The Romance of Regional Rail

A few weeks ago, after a few too many hours in front of the computer, a change of scenery was in order, and I made plans to visit with Dad in in the Central West of Victoria. A relatively easy trip, and a great opportunity to put on a podcast and take in the scope and scale of the open countryside.

By George Thompson, Director

January 2025

Part of a series of articles on place, space and customer, drawing on the diverse experience of Erebus co-founders George and Finn.

A few weeks ago, after a few too many hours in front of the computer, a change of scenery was in order, and I made plans to visit with Dad in in the Central West of Victoria. A relatively easy trip, and a great opportunity to put on a podcast and take in the scope and scale of the open countryside.

January 2025

Part of a series of articles on place, space and customer, drawing on the diverse experience of Erebus co-founders George and Finn.

"…rail travel isn’t really about the journey, but about connecting people and places."

Pre-2020, this was one journey I would always have made by train – who doesn’t love a chance to take in regional Victoria’s sights and sounds from the comfort of an airconditioned caboose? But in the aftermath of COVID-19, the idea of sharing that reconditioned air with strangers became a bit of an obstacle, and driving quickly became my preferred mode of transport.

Now, with enough water under the bridge, the thought of enduring bumper-to-bumper traffic with countless others heading out through Melbourne's sprawling suburbs on a stunning autumn day was far from appealing. So, I decided, what better day to rediscover the romance of regional rail?

Talk to anyone about rail travel in Australia and they will tell you categorically that the trains are outdated and slow. However, in Victoria significant effort has been put into updating regional rail in recent times. The still-relatively-new V/Line VLocity 160 trains boast comfortable seats, toilets that actually flush, and (as the name suggests) a top speed of 160km/hr. That’s another advantage over road travel – if I clocked up 160km/hr in my car I'd be looking at a $962 fine and a 12-month license suspension, at best!

Arriving at Southern Cross Station, the brakes were quickly pulled on my dreams of a faultless rail experience.

A digital board displaying real-time service information coldly informed me that there was a disruption on the line, and that I’d need to avail myself of the dreaded rail replacement bus. But then, during the short walk between the gate and the coach terminal, the delay miraculously cleared and the board updated itself: the train was back on track to depart in only a few minutes.

On the scale of rail disasters, this was admittedly only the smallest of hiccups, but I did wonder whether the information could be provided in a better way. Had I been travelling with armfuls of luggage, had I not been paying attention, or if I were unable to run between platforms, I’d probably have missed the train altogether. As a human-centred designer, this is the kind of thing we’re constantly thinking about – what about the people that couldn’t have made the connection? Those who might have been late for a shift and lost their job, or missed a medical appointment, or missed a connection with a loved one. What kind of simple intervention in that flow of information could have made their lives easier? In these situations, providing someone with more information can empower them to make a more informed decision. For instance, displaying the time when the incident occurred may have given me pause to consider waiting for the next train.

I was still thinking about the digital screen as I boarded the carriage and took a seat by the window. As the diesel engines wound up and we began to steadily move away from the platform, my affection for regional rail travel flooded back as the busy built environment receded.

As we began to sprint towards the towns of Melton and Baccus Marsh, I reflected on my lifelong love affair with rail. I distinctly remember my first long distance train trip – it was a quite a social experience. With an extended travel time, and no iPhones back in the day, passengers freely exchanged stories. I still remember an older lady offering us sweets, and (ever the budding industrial designer) listening keenly to the stories of a former sign maker who now worked in a factory making soldering irons.