Writer & Photographer: Marie Barbieri
Train of Thought
Riding the rails between Cape Town and Pretoria, South Africa’s rich tapestry of landscapes, gourmet cuisine and a single stop in a quirky village make journeying aboard Blue Train the ultimate escape. A cocktail of history, heritage and decadence awaits.
Whenever I see a train, I yearn to jump aboard. Trains are magical and nostalgic, and synonymous with romantic stories. The most famous and revered luxury train is undoubtedly the Orient Express, which was immortalised by Agatha Christie in her Hercule Poirot series, and Belmond, the company behind that famous locomotive, has developed into the single largest luxury train operator in the world today. But they’re not the only player worth a gander and if you’re looking for opulence and attentive hospitality then don’t miss the chance to ride on the legendary Blue Train in South Africa.
Starting bright and early at 7:30am at Cape Town Station, it’s via a blue carpet that I enter the Blue Train’s pre-departure lounge and here I find smiling waiters gracefully pouring cups of freshly brewed rooibos from fine china teapots. My amiable butler, Michael, affords me the time to enjoy my cuppa before offering to guide me to my carriage for orientation – and what a rolling palace it is. All wood-panelled with brass fittings, the elegant sitting room leads to a generously sized bathroom with heated Gialo Royale marble tiles underfoot. There are fluffy monogrammed towels, gold plated faucets, a generous sized bathtub, free unlimited WiFi as well as remote-controlled blinds and custom-controlled air-conditioning. It’s clear I won’t be left wanting.
Historically, it was the discovery of gold and diamonds that gave birth to South African train travel and the current Blue Train is a descendant of the Union Limited and Union Express that began rolling in 1923, between Johannesburg and Cape Town to service UK-bound mail ships, fortune-seekers, mining magnates and affluent travellers. It took its current name in 1946 after being painted royal blue. Two new Blue Trains then arrived in 1997 and 1998. Today, South Africa’s five-star boutique hotel on wheels tracks 1,600 kilometres over 30 hours.
In the Observation Car, positioned as the last of the 17 carriages, I am offered a comfortable armchair positioned so to maximise the view from three enormous windows, one on each side of the car and the third forming the back of the train. One minute, I’m looking up at serrated ramparts and conical peaks, and the next, across the Cape Winelands. Sheep farms reveal rusting, retired windmills, interspersed by canary-yellow canola fields and stream-bordered valleys. I hope to spot leaping springbok between the rivers and open plains.
Snaking through the gently joggling carriages and lulled by the rhythm of the whispering wheels, I take a moment to appreciate the walnut and birch walls, polished into rich honeys and chocolate browns, adorned with paintings and murals of African wildlife that bring the outside in. I notice marquetry inlays depicting the route’s passing vistas like Table Mountain, Kimberley diamonds and Karoo windmills. It’s charming stuff.
Lunch, prepared by executive chefs, is a three-course silver service affair, all cut crystal and impeccable manners. There are some pan-seared scallops with parsnip purée and a cranberry reduction, followed by a ‘satiated chicken supreme’: a chicken breast, stuffed with peppadew and feta, served with maple potatoes and julienne vegetables. It leaves only just enough room for the chocolate cigar laid alongside a scoop of sorbet and persimmon compote.
The snowy peaks of Matroosberg Mountain zip by before we whoosh through the 14-kilometre-long Hex River Tunnel. Rising to the parched Karoo plateau, pocked by koppies on a landscape of dusty browns, we then savour the fine views of the Swartberg mountains.
Halting at the desert town of Matjiesfontein, we disembark. On the platform, a jocular chap named Johnny blows into a bugle. He ushers us onto a vintage red double-decker London bus still sporting a sign that reads: “Do Not Spit. £5 Fine.”
“It’s show time!” shouts Johnny. “Welcome to the shortest tour on Earth!” Driving through the pristinely preserved Victorian town, Johnny spins a series of wisecracks: “We go left… because we can’t go right!” And: “The train on the left we call the Blue Train… because it’s not a green train.” Johnny’s face is deadpan, but the crowd laugh, somewhat bemused.
The town was the brainchild of Scotsman James Logan, who bought land here in 1884 with ambitions to create a high-altitude, clean air oasis for travellers crossing the barren Karoo. Before long, all the bigwigs of the Victorian era, including Rudyard Kipling, Cecil Rhodes and Lord Randolph Churchill, were propping up the bar of the local watering hole. At its height, during the Boer War, there were as many as 20,000 British troops stationed here.
These days, things are rather sleepier. Now a National Heritage Site, Matjiesfontein is a pristine fossil of Britain’s imperial heyday. Victorian lampposts line the street. There’s an impossibly quaint post office and the historic Laird’s Arms bar is the perfect spot for us to quaff sherry from short glasses engraved with the Blue train’s iconic insignia. Beneath on-looking taxidermy in the antique-filled saloon, Johnny bashes away at the century-old piano leading a honkytonk sing-along. Passengers join in, animatedly.
Back on the train, we glide through farmlands that give way to goldfields of old, until mid afternoon delivers high tea. The feast comprises: finger sandwiches, fresh scones with clotted cream, chocolates, fruit platters and cheeseboards celebrating the region’s churns.
Pre-dinner drinks are shaken and stirred at the bar, where a particular cocktail, named the Blue Train, of course, constitutes the bulk of the orders. The barman, bless him, insists that I try the blend, containing vodka, Cointreau, blue curaçao and lemonade and I oblige willingly.
At 8:30pm, diners arrive in sartorial elegance at the lavish Dining Car, where we enjoy five-course haute cuisine cradled in bone china and cut crystal, complemented by logo-engraved silver cutlery. Boutique South African wines match the gourmet dishes, which include Knysna oysters and Karoo lamb. But for me tonight, the entrée is an oriental seafood parcel with a fennel and bean sprout salad, a giant curried prawn and grilled langoustine. And the main course of prosciutto-wrapped monkfish with butterbean puréee, orange braised fennel and herbed butter, tops the icing on this exquisite journey through culinary decadence.
Post dinner, trundling towards South Africa’s Highveld grasslands, some head to the Club Car for coffees, cognacs and Cuban cigars. Here, passengers split decks of cards and compete at chess, as pastimes from a bygone era are played out. I choose instead to retreat to my suite.
The elegant living room I had left a couple of hours ago has been transformed by my trusty butler and it’s now a cosy bedroom, romantically lit by brass sconces. And upon the generous double bed (replete with a goose-down duvet and pillows and 100 per cent percale cotton bedding), sits a tiny box of chocolate truffles. Heaven resides here tonight.
I lay, blissfully cocooned as various shades of dusk draw the rainbow nation to a close and succumb to timelessness, absorbing the naked beauty of the night stars. ‘A window to the Soul of South Africa’ is the train’s strapline. Indeed, it is just that.
I awake long before my alarm, eager to lift the electric blinds and watch the baby pink horizon do the same. At breakfast, I am brought steaming coffee, freshly baked pastries and cut fruit. I also indulge in some eggs benedict – soft-poached to perfection – with gypsy ham and homemade hollandaise sauce.
A slow roll between Johannesburg and Pretoria reveals suburban townships, goats trackside, and schoolchildren crossing the rails. The train, that journeyed me through the soul of South Africa, and its authentic hospitality, sadly comes to a stop and it’s time to disembark. Such farewells are never easy.
