A quaint Queensland adventure - the Brisbane to Sydney train

Brisbane to Sydney

Not quite the adventure I was hoping for...................

Checks?

And having thought I'd picked my seat... hmmm, that's where it started.

The jouney

This is what attracted me. The opportunity to see S-QLD and N-NSW without having to drive it.

A Tale of Two Trains: The XPT vs. LNER

There’s something undeniably magical about train journeys—the rhythm of the tracks, the slow unfolding of landscapes, and the way time stretches differently than it does on a plane. In the UK, I often take the majestic LNER service between London and Edinburgh. Those that know me know I enjoy gliding seamlessly through the countryside in comfort, fitted with power outlets, WiFi, food delivery to the seats and well-appointed carriages. It's a lovely experience.

Last year, I braved the Melbourne-to-Sydney journey, an experience that was more endurance test than pleasure ride, thanks to an antiquated train with no power or connectivity. Yet, undeterred (or perhaps with selective amnesia), I found myself once again embarking on an epic Australian rail adventure, this time from Brisbane to Sydney aboard the XPT.

Smaller than the LNER

My six carriage chariot

A dirty but First Class

Brisbane Station

The XPT, a relic of another era, runs inland through the Lamington National Park and the Barrington Tops among others, crossing rolling hills, sleepy country towns, and long stretches of untouched bushland. It’s a route that promises incredible sunrises, glimpses of rural Australia, and a throwback to travel before convenience was king. What it lacks in modernity, it makes up for in nostalgia—at least, that was my hope. With six rather compact carriages, it’s a far cry from the 12–16-car grandeur of the LNER, which sweeps up and down the UK with efficiency and elegance.

Seat Dramas? Oh, yes.

Despite there being a sea of empty seats, I was assigned an aisle seat next to a curtain. Hoping for a better vantage point to enjoy the early morning light, I asked to move, only to be met with an utterly bizarre refusal. The elderly customer experience officer, seemingly unbothered by logic, declared that she wouldn’t change my seat because she only had a four-hour shift, while the next customer experience officer had ten hours. An odd justification, but not wanting to push, I waited. With three hours to go until the next stop and still plenty of vacant seats, I took matters into my own hands, relocating to enjoy the sunrise in all its glory.

Alas, my joy was short-lived. The next time the conductress passed by me, clearly on a power trip, she marched over and demanded very loudly that I return to my assigned seat. With an imploring look, I politely assured her I’d move back before the next station in case the seat was booked, but she wasn’t having it. “You can’t be there! You have to move!” she barked repeatedly. I resisted the urge to ask exactly how these ghost passengers were supposed to board a moving train between stops, but I knew better than to argue with bureaucracy. Resigned, I shuffled back to my assigned seat, my view reduced to a curtain and an aisle, while the vast emptiness of the train carried on beside me.

To add to the absurdity, my original window seat remained vacant for the next five hours (and counting at time of posting!). While I wasn’t scolded personally for briefly occupying it, the crew took the time to make an announcement reminding all passengers not to move—even temporarily—to unoccupied window seats. Apparently, we were to leave them vacant for the invisible ticket holders who, rather inconveniently, were not yet on the train. This level of devotion to an unclaimed seat would have been admirable if it weren’t so utterly nonsensical.

However, I was advised that if I wanted a window seat, I could purchase another ticket.

Purchase another First Class ticket.

................and from the same Customer Experience Officer who couldn't be ar5ed to find me a seat on first request.

The irony kills me.

But my humiliation wasn’t finished. After the tannoy announcement, a NSW Transport guard/worker came and positioned himself in front of me—despite the plethora of empty seats in the train. This was an unmistakable intimidation tactic, a silent enforcer ensuring I kept to my assigned seat. The absurdity of it all left me stunned. A full carriage of options, yet I was being watched like a rebellious schoolchild. It was unnecessary, uncomfortable, and deeply frustrating.

The frustration of the emptiness. That's the seats and carriage, not the vast space that is the Australian Bush.

BNE to Kyogle

Kyogle to Casino

Casino to Grafton

Grafton to Coffs

Now, let’s speak about the buffet facility. A great asset for the fourteen hours of travel with many different offerings. Even before Grafton, it had opened and closed three times, each with a corresponding set of announcements. It’s going to close; it’s going to close in five minutes; it’s closed, it’s going to open and now… ta da, it’s open. If you were trying to sleep after the 5am departure, you had no chance. Absolutely no chance whatsoever.

But the morning tea, lunch, afternoon tea and dinner options were most welcome and very reasonably priced. I'll note here that I didn't eat them all, but the thoughts of tea and scones was tempting.

But was it all worth it?

I read an article recently in a travel journal.

On reading, I thought, ah, “she’s one of my people.” The author undertook the train trip from Melbourne to Adelaide, relaxed, managed to get some uninterrupted work done, and thoroughly enjoyed taking the time out. Despite the logistics of last year, I knew what she meant, and with that in mind, I looked forward to my forthcoming Brisbane-to-Sydney trip even more.

I didn’t realise that after asking for help and permission, I would be refused—help, not permission—berated, made to feel uncomfortable, and quite publicly, in Car B, humiliated, all within the space of three hours. It was quite the morning. And all over a seat in the sun.

Australia’s long-haul trains hold a unique charm, even with their quirks. The journey took me through quiet railway towns, open plains, and dense bushland, with glimpses of rural life that make these trips worth taking—if only for the stories. But next time? When you think you’ve booked a window seat in advance – check – check – check and check again. Lesson learned

So was it all worth it?

Maybe it was. But I wouldn't do it again and I wouldn't recommend it.

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