JOURNEY TO THE SUN

So my long advance-booked screening of Lawrence of Arabia finally 
came around on Sunday. In a fit of optimism after finding it was 
screening roughly close to when I'd finish reading T. E. Lawrence's 
Seven Pillars of Wisdom at my usual glacial pace, and that the Sun 
Theatre screening it in 70mm film was right next to a railway 
station, I booked in the assumption that train services would be 
running normally. In any case there were different lines I could 
take in without needing the encounter the unthinkable horror of 
attempting to drive in city traffic. But of course, as with the 
last time I attempted public transport, they exceeded my own 
capacity for doubt and had closures that weekend affecting pretty 
much every line through the city.

So, next in fear after driving myself, I resigned to catching two 
"rail replacement" buses (choo-choo-buses, as I call them to 
myself) to cover the closures on both the lines I was planning to 
use. At least by driving half-way there I could take a service that 
ran by train within one stop of where I planned to change trains 
for the line running to the Sun at Yarraville, so that bus trip was 
only between two stops. Many hours of research on the three 
official websites for the different public transport services: 
V/Line, Metro, and PTV who half-heartedly cover both. None were 
correct.

Since I'd decided against catching a choo-choo-bus running to the 
local railway station, I couldn't use a paper ticket and had to buy 
a Mickey Mouse card (AKA Myki), since they pointlessly expire after 
four years so my old one was surely dead and burried (along with 
whatever credit I had left on it). Unlike last time when I was 
referred on to a snack food vendor who'se accent I couldn't 
penetrate at all, now I read you could buy a Myki card at a ticket 
office at staffed railway stations. However only with $24 credit 
pre-loaded. But I pleasently found that this last detail was wrong, 
when you buy at the ticket office they can load just as much as you 
need, taking the $30 effective fare down to $13.50 ($6 card + $7.50 
maximum travel).

The next online inaccuracy wasn't so pleasent. The Metro website 
showed a Google Map of a path from the station to the buses at 
about a block away, but also a label which, when clicked on, said 
they were next to the station - nowhere near the path shown (which 
at least saved me the bother I was having trying to print the 
pop-up map of the path out). One bit of info that did seem solid 
was three numbered bus routes, two stopping at the next station 
where I wanted to go, and one express bus that zoomed through to 
Southern Cross Station in the CBD. I was glad to find plenty of 
high-vis wearing hand-wavers herding the crowd towards three 
buses, one accompanied by a man shouting "express to Southern 
Cross". No numbers in sight remotely matching the routes on the 
website, but hey it's obvious: Avoid that "express" bus, jump on 
the next one, oops it's almost full, quick... On I got, into the 
"no standing" space next to the door, where nobody really seems to 
care if you're standing, and off we go.

Unfortunately that bus took me straight to Southern Cross, express, 
into the concrete crypt beneath the station which I'd never 
discovered before, although heard about from news stories about the 
poor ventillation and diesel exhaust fumes resulting in air quality 
deemed dangerous by any safety standard. Obviously I needed to 
catch back one of the non-express buses and I'd be on my way. But 
no sign of them, or anyone to ask. Exiting the crypt there was a 
V/Line information desk where I tried to explain myself but they 
seemed unaware of the other non-express buses. "Where are you 
trying to go?", "Yarraville", "oh that's Metro, I'm not sure how 
they're running things today, go up the escallator and ask there". 
Up there was a Metro information desk with nobody inside, but 
lurking behind it and looking all the world like private security 
in all-black padded vests was a huddle of Metro assistants who 
insisted that I had to take a train in the wrong direction, and 
then catch a bus back again from the next station along.

Presuming that the bus services I was originally aiming for didn't 
actually exist, I followed this advice and meandered my way 
waywardly around that next station until stumbling upon a bus with 
a woman in the door asking everyone which station they wanted and 
waving them in. Besides confirming that I'd found the right bus, I 
was lucky to also note another bloke announce his journey to 
Yarraville, since it turns out this bus, even though it was 
definitely a train replacement service, stops as bus stops as well, 
completely sabotaging any attempt by someone who doesn't know the 
city to simply count the stops expected along the railway line 
(nobody announces the stops on buses either, it seems).

After winding a strange route down all sorts of tight suburban 
streets, reversing through a roundabout at one point to avoid a bus 
coming the other way down a street too narrow for it to pass, the 
Yarraville man I was now stalking made a move for the door and sure 
enough I found myself deposited beside Yarraville station behind 
him. Locating The Sun on the other side of the tracks, I was glad 
to see my precaution of leaving extremely early had still left me 
an hour and fourty-five minutes of free time to calm down before 
the movie started. Prepared with a Port of Melbourne historic trail 
guide, I set off to explore the history of the river bank a few 
blocks away.

Actually this guide must not be that popular for walkers, because 
the only historic marker I made it to before turning back was at 
the end of an unpaved footpath crowded with all the weeds of the 
world probably blown off foreign ships, largely untrampled by 
fellow history-seekers. The actual "trail", as vaguely marked on 
the map, seems to go through restricted dock areas anyway, then a 
boardwalk that was closed except to people wishing to brave a 
makeshift bridge over a missing section. Anyway there's no space 
that captivates me more than an aged and largely deserted (on a 
Sunday) industrial area, so I was thrilled by it all.

My take on the movie I'll leave to a later piece on my various 
recent peeks into the life of Lawrence. The walk at least did it's 
job to numb the nerves that had built up in me through the whole 
public transport ordeal, although follwing the movie I felt really 
too tired to attempt it all again in the dark of night, yet costs 
of (and my helplessness to find) accomodation in Melbourne dictated 
no other option.

A bus driver claimed, so far as I could tell through his accent 
after a couple of repetitions, to go to the station where I 
originally intended to change choo-choo-buses, so I made another 
attempt at my original planned route. Although still unnerving me 
with extra bus stops in locations made even more mysterious by the 
darkness of night, it did arrive there quite obviously. Then, 
remarkably I found the bus service running through between the line 
closure and Southern Cross, proving there _was_ a non-express 
service after all. It arrived at the other end of the station to 
where I'd got on before, so it seems I'd been hurded directly away 
from it, though signs also pointed in the opposite direction.

Now where's the train? Of course after all these stations I'd 
forgotten the platform I'd arrived in on, but I found a screen 
above an escallator announcing that mine was due to depart in a 
couple of minutes! Down I went, in the door just as it's beeping 
its intention to close, and... Hang on, this is a Metro train - I 
wanted V/Line. I lept out again in the nick of time to avoid being 
whisked off in yet another wrong direction. Luckilly I was now 
looking sufficiently confused to attract the attention of a staffer 
who pointed me at a platform close to where I'd entered, well away 
from the screen above the platform I'd gone to. By the time I got 
to it of course my train had left, but that only meant a 20min wait 
since it's a mercifully regular service compared to the trains to 
my local station.

Then I was finally back on rails, and heading comfortably to the 
end of the line, not needing to worry that the best feature of the 
(comparatively) modern V/Locity trains running on that rural 
service, the digital "next station" display in the carriages, was 
turned off (maybe they couldn't be bothered reprogramming it for 
the changes?). Having left home just before 9AM I got back a little 
after 9:30PM, having only had a petrol station sausage roll for 
lunch and no dinner. If I'd driven all the way, it probably would 
have been about eight hours instead of 12.5, but I was stressed 
enough in the bus getting driven through Melbourne traffic that I'm 
sure I won't attempt again to drive through it myself. The 
conclusion is clearly back to "don't go to Melbourne then", yet if 
only the damn trains would run it would be OK. In fairness these 
closures were apparantly for works connecting a new underground 
rail tunnel that will speed up travel across the city. Except that 
tunnel comes out in a part of Melbourne that I never have wanted to 
go to/beyond anyway, so bugger all difference that's ever going to 
make to me. Plus they could surely do better than announcing 
"planned closures" for such major works only half a month in 
advance on their website (if you know where to look even then).

Cost at least worked out OK at roughly $67 including food, fuel, 
Myki card and movie ticket. It used to cost almost that much for 
one return paper ticket into Melbourne from the local station until 
they capped the charges a few years back. I might try the likes of 
it again without booking things far ahead, but no more 
choo-choo-buses!

 - The Free Thinker