This Nerd Can’t Pass By a Train

While the arboretum was more of a planned, “next scheduled stop”, we couldn’t just drive past the Don River Railway without looking at it, at least over the fence. “I’ve already checked and they don’t run trains today, Carl,” said Brigid as we approached. It’s good to have friends who know my level of nerd and, as the kids would say, don’t yuck my yum, and instead entertain my nerdy enjoyment. So we drove past the railway and stopped for a quick look over the fence, which quickly escalated into buying tickets for all of us at a grand total of $15 to explore the trains and museum. When in Rome, why not. I like stopping into weird little museums when I travel, especially if they have a transport focus to them. Cue the armchair autism diagnosis from close friends right about here… lol. Embrace it.

With there not being any trains running today, we pretty much had the place to ourselves to explore. There were a few diesel trains hooked up to restored heritage carriages on the platform, which we boarded and evaluated. Brigid and CK rated one carriage as having “better seats than the Spirit of Tasmania”, so I snapped a picture of them posing on those for the archives. The endless mirror carriage was cute and great for a cheeky mirror selfie, but the older carriage with “Women” and “Smoking” compartments was the one that had had the most restoration work done on it. That leather seating looked brand new and like a much more comfortable way to ride than the current hard-arse seating found on the rails in 2026.

Interiors examined, we skipped across from the platform to the turntable, where a trio of steam engines in a lesser state of restoration were longing for some love. I climbed aboard the front of one of them for a nerdy selfie before Brigid and I climbed up into the driver’s cabin of the larger steam engine. Standing in the open cabin, big call Brigid asked me the big philosophical question of the day. “If you were born 150 years ago, would you have been a train driver or a conductor?” I like that these were the only career options for this avgeek travel nerd Carl 150 years ago, before aviation was even invented. Without hesitation I opted for the conductor option — “you’d get too dirty from all the coal and smoke being a train driver, I’d be the conductor.” On reflection, it wasn’t just the cleanliness factor that swayed me. The uniforms of railway staff back in the steam era had a certain level of flair and class about them.

The only real recollection I have of conductors is those working Melbourne trams in the 80s, with their side bags full of tickets to sell and hole punches to validate each passenger’s fare. And who wouldn’t want to shout “All aboard!” before blowing a whistle or waving a flag to signal the driver to get that train moving. Perhaps this is also why I love period dramas like Bridgerton and Downton Abbey — the clothes of the day would look good on me, I think. That assumes I was nobility though, and not a peasant… which is sadly the more likely of the two options.

Fantasy historic careers sorted, we had a quick look in the signal box with all its levers controlling every aspect of the rail yard. How times have changed, with this now all controlled from some windowless, dark control room instead of the iconic towers that used to adorn railway stations. Inside the museum I had a little play on the old telephone switchboard and a few other odds and sods before we grabbed an ice cream, some lollies, and sat outside in the cool shade of a tree. Like many museums of this nature scattered across small country communities, most of the labour and love comes from volunteers passionate about keeping this part of history alive. And good on them.

It’s such a cute little place to visit on our journey today — giving me a hit of transport nerd joy, and Brigid and CK a hit of country museum charm… and ice cream. Snacks consumed, it was time to continue our road trip deeper into Tasmania in search of platypus.Read more