Where trains stand still

Add it to the list—another vaguely odd museum I desperately wanted to see.

The Canberra Railway Museum is in a charming—and distant—little corner of the capital city’s oldest suburb, Kingston. It, admittedly, appeals to a niche audience of old men wishing they still lived in the steam age and young boys. Picture men of a certain age sporting caps emblazoned with logos of long-defunct railway companies and peering through bifocals at the intricate details of locomotives. Don't ask questions unless you want to stand there smiling politely while they regale you with their encyclopedic knowledge of every nut and bolt. Running loose behind those guys are 10-year-olds, darting from car to car, making choo-choo sounds, and pretending to shovel coal into the imaginary fires of their boundless imagination.¹

The museum has a small "interpretive center" at the front, displaying train-related memorabilia somewhat chaotically in a glorious, slightly bewildering mishmash. Here you’ll find a miscellanea of artifacts that range from the profoundly historical to the profoundly questionable. Dusty old timetables pinned to the walls, faded photos of stern-looking conductors, and enough brass buttons to outfit a small army of railway employees. Every little thing has a story, though I think that often the story is, “I found this in the back of the shed—anyone know what to do with it?”

But the entrance area is just the beginning, a sort of “Welcome aboard! Brace yourself for a journey through time and clutter!” before you step outside into what feels like a gigantic diorama in which you play some small part. Take a deep breath, adjust your conductor’s hat, and dive into the museum's eclectic collection of rolling stock, steam and diesel locomotives, and carriages with unique histories.

First up—Locomotive 1210, a Z12-class steam locomotive that pulled the very first train ever into Canberra in 1914.² This is the museum’s pride and joy, a venerable behemoth of iron and steam that once ruled the rails like a Victorian-era rockstar. Upon its grand debut in 1878 as a fancy passenger locomotive, the Z10 had more character than an entire season of Downton Abbey. Time passed, though, and steam technology advanced, leaving this grand old dame relegated to coal-hauling duty. Now, of course, it serves mainly as a jungle gym for overzealous children whose parents are just happy to find a place where they can't break anything too expensive.

Next is the 3016, and she’s a diva. The Maggie Smith³ of locomotives, this beauty demands your attention the moment you see her. Built in 1914, she’s got curves in all the right places—you know, if you’re into industrial-era machinery—and enough horsepower to make modern engines look like lawnmowers. Lovingly maintained by volunteers who treat her like royalty, 3610 sits there with the quiet dignity of an old movie star, ready to whisk you back to when trains were the epitome of travel sophistication and not just a way to avoid hidden airline fees.

The CPH27 is a diesel rail motor, part of the CPH class introduced in the 1920s by the New South Wales Railways to address the financial inefficiencies of operating steam trains on less-traveled branch lines. Built in 1924, the CPH27 is lightweight and constructed primarily of wood. It features a simple diesel engine, making it more cost-effective and easier to operate with minimal crew. Affectionately known as “Tin Hares,” these were a common sight on many regional lines, providing reliable passenger service until their retirement.

By the 1950s, it was obvious that steam was on its way out. Most of the world had already moved to diesel and electric power, so Australia decided to join the 20th century by introducing main-line diesel locomotives. The S300, affectionately known as "Matthew Flinders," was a distinguished member of the Victorian Railways fleet built in 1957 by Clyde Engineering. As the first of its kind, this diesel-electric powerhouse was designed to haul express passenger trains, notably the prestigious Spirit of Progress between Melbourne and Albury. Painted in a striking livery and featuring the iconic streamlined design of the era, the S300 quickly became a symbol of modern rail travel.

The museum boasts—and boasts about—a meticulously restored 1901 Pullman sleeping car—I mean, they are really pouring themselves into this one. The only wood-framed, Pullman-designed sleeping car in the world, this car epitomized luxury travel with exquisite pressed-metal ceilings and rich red cedar timberwork. By the 1930s, though, it was apparently old news. This car and its sister were repurposed as a mobile dental clinic, traveling through regional New South Wales to provide much-needed dental care.⁴ That second life ended when a generator fire left one car destroyed and this one a charred ember. Volunteers have been working since 2002 to restore its original grandeur, from the intricate metal ceilings to the fine white upholstery.

At first glance, BJ⁵ 897 looks like the AL1040’s (fraternal) twin, but there are some big differences. Born out of the Mann Boudoir Car Company that opened in 1888, this carriage’s pedigree is linked to the infamous Orient Express. Mann, an American engineer with more hats than a milliner’s shop, gave the world the sleeping compartment and the corridor connector, only to see his company gobbled up by Pullman by 1909. This car was rebuilt as a first-class sitting car in the 1930s when more popular sleepers came on the market.

The 897's sister, BVJ 1457, was rebuilt as a second-class sitting car at the same time, and both were retired from service in the 1960s. But instead of heading to the scrapyard, it was stripped of its interior and transformed into a bar-on-wheels with tables and dining car seats straight from the NSW network. They installed hydraulic jacks to simulate the rocking motion of a moving train and rechristened it as a Hostess Training Car. Yep, this is where train hostesses practiced serving hot food, coffee, and tea to tables instead of travelers’ laps.

Then there’s TAM 1888, one of the ubiquitous TAM-class⁶ carriages that ultimately replaced the Pullmans. These cars were the epitome of early 20th-century luxury, with plush upholstery, gleaming wood paneling, and intricate brass fixtures. Each compartment was a cozy sanctuary with comfortable berths, soft linens, and elegant lighting. The attention to detail was impeccable, from the polished mahogany trim to the velvet curtains that ensured privacy and a touch of opulence.⁷ This car, along with many others, was repurposed during WWII to support the war effort. Requisitioned by the Australian Army, it served several years as part of an ambulance train.⁸

The 1960s saw the introduction of the LAN 2351, a dazzling example of mid-20th-century design that embodies sleek Art Deco. Built of gleaming stainless steel, this roomette sleeping car features a zig-zag corridor design, increasing travelers’ sense of privacy. High-gloss linoleum and vibrant Formica create a streamlined, contemporary look. Chrome accents and stainless-steel fixtures add to the car's polished aesthetic, reflecting the era's fascination with futuristic and hygienic design. Each compartment is a cozy, single roomette, offering passengers a private retreat with cleverly integrated bathroom fixtures and seating that transforms into a comfortable bed.⁹ Randomly, a room-sized model train set is installed in one of the empty cars attached to this sleeper. Bizarrely captivating, it's full-on with miniature villages, tiny cows, and even tinier people who appear to be perpetually waiting for a train that's never coming.¹⁰

The Canberra Railway Museum is almost entirely volunteer—from the cashier to the engineers and artisans who refurbish the train cars. They are nothing if not inordinately proud of their defunct train cars here. As they should be—they work like crazy to restore them to their original glory.¹¹ I know I and all the other 10-year-olds appreciate their efforts.