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 THE carriages rattle out of Regatta Point.
It's not long after 10am on a late-March Thursday and summer hasn't given up yet.
It seems too early for a sparkling wine but that's part of the experience in premier class on the West Coast Wilderness Railway, along with a starter pastry of chicken and camembert.
We are in the final carriage with a wonderful view of all we are passing.
The hobby farms of Lettes Bay used to be dairy producers with the perfect transport network for selling milk and cream to miners and railway workers.
The visual stimulation is complemented by the voice of commentary steward Graeme Tatnell, whose lively recollections and anecdotes flow like a West Coast brook as we reach Lowana Yard and start along the King River.
I'd heard of Mr Tatnell the day before from a couple of US visitors, who said his authenticity and enthusiasm made their day.
"His dad was the engine driver,'' the Oregonians said. "It's
wonderful to meet someone doing a job they love.''
Mr Tatnell shares his love of this railway with passengers: "Fifty years ago my father sat me on this engine and I got a tingle in my spine then; I still get a tingle in my spine every time I sit on it.''
We are alongside the King River where a German television crew is filming the train from a speedboat.
They film us, and as trees permit, we photograph them and our moving camera duel wobbles on towards Teepookana.
When the mines were pumping,this was the fourth-busiest port in Tasmania, if my sparkling-influenced senses are receiving the commentary correctly.
It also has a grand old iron bridge that was shipped up the King and put in place in 1898. Like the revolutionary track teeth of Roman Abt's rail technology, there is a sense that no task was beyond the pioneering engineers of the early West Coast.
The Mount Lyell Mining Company announced it would build the ridiculously difficult rail link between Queenstown and Strahan in 1892. Four years of toil, operating under the motto, Labor Omnia Vincit (we find a way or make it), saw the first loco steam into Queenstown in 1896.
The modern tourist trip doesn't neglect the human sacrifice.
A souvenir booklet carries extracts from a worker: "Dear Mum and Dad. The blowflies and snakes were bad over summer but now we're working in icy winds and rain.''
The "back-breaking work and the mud'' of the young diarist is a long way from the 2010 journey in a premier carriage. Here we have the dedicated services of premier steward Debbie Beamsley.
Mrs Beamsley, who commutes each day from Zeehan, is as bubbly as the Tamar Ridge TRV she serves and offers a mid-morning coffee and a platter of watermelon, cantaloupe, grapes, strawberries and cheese.
We are getting used to the idea of luxury travel when we make our first stop about 11am at Lower Landing.
The building of the Abt was a massive project but so was the upkeep. We have crossed the Quarter Mile Bridge, which was regularly swept away by King River floods.
It's hard to imagine such intensity on a warm, still autumn day, as passengers file off the train at Lower Landing for a closer look at the King River and a sample of local honey.
There's time to reflect on the ironies of wasps buzzing around honey and how the King, a river killed years go by mine tailings, can appear so naturally beautiful.
Mr Tatnell chooses Lower Landing for one of his anecdotes.
Apparently, in the days of the old Abt, two boys chose this spot to hold up the train with cap guns.
The driver went along with the gag and hopped out with arms in the air. The kids panicked, shoved their cap guns into their pockets and "were last seen bolting for the river with their pants on fire''.
So far, we've been dragged along by diesel and the gradient has been a ruling 1 in 20. That's all about to change at our lunch station, Dubbil Barril, where we switch to steam and the Abt system bares its teeth.
The writer was a guest of West Coast Wilderness Railway.
AT A GLANCE
See puretasmania.com.au or call 1800 420 155.
A premier-class ticket on the Abt costs $210. Tourist class is $129 and $30 for children.
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