It's the wet season on the northern coast of Australia. Here in Darwin, the ground is soggy, and the only variation in the weather is the rain — sometimes a drizzle, sometimes a downpour, but not stopping.

A hundred or so passengers are gathered under the roof of the Darwin train station, ready to board the legendary Ghan. The train waits at the platform, 23 silver rail cars behind two maroon locomotives — one to do the hauling, the other in reserve should there be a breakdown hundreds of miles into the Outback.

Departure is on time at 10 a.m., and by 10:30, passengers from a half-dozen or more countries have found their way to the lounge car, and with train travel as the common bond, conversation flows easily. A few will be leaving the train tomorrow at Alice Springs, but most of us will stay aboard as the Ghan bisects the continent on its two-night, 1,850-mile journey due south to Adelaide on the Southern Ocean.

The passing landscape is lush and green at this time of year, with occasional herds of cattle grazing in knee-deep grass. Many of the fields are dotted with dark brown termite mounds, some 6 to 7 feet high. "Nasty little beggers," says a retired Australian farmer. "That's why we can't use wood sleepers (cross ties) to build our railroads."

At noon, we're called to luncheon in the elegant dining car. I choose smoked lamb, a baby-spinach salad with red wine dressing, and a rhubarb and ginger ice cream torte for dessert. If this is any indication, we will be eating very well indeed over the next two days.

Ninety minutes later, the Ghan pauses for a three-hour stop at Katherine, giving us ample time for a leisurely tour in this town of some 7,000 people.

One of the first "Flying Doctor" services was located here, with physician pilots responding to emergency calls from ranches and farms hundreds of miles away in the Outback. Dr. Clyde Fenton was one of the first, and his canvas-covered bi-plane, a 1934 deHaviland Gypsy Moth, is on display in a corrugated metal hangar.

On the other side of town is the Katherine School of the Air, where a faculty of 17 teachers conducts elementary and high school classes using satellite and TV monitors for more than 200 children scattered over 500,000 square miles of Outback.

Tonight at dinner — one of the options is grilled kangaroo, by the way — I'm seated with a Norwegian couple. They look at me warily as I join them, but break into wide smiles when they learn I'm an American. They speak very good English but have had a difficult time penetrating the heavy Aussie accent of other passengers.

When I return to my compartment, the berth has been made up, complete with a downy comforter. After a steaming hot shower and 30 minutes with a paperback novel, the rocking of the train takes effect and I drift off.

HELLO, ALICE

The next day brings a stop at Alice Springs, which began as a telegraph relay station for the railroad and was named after the wife of the first telegraph operator. Today it's home to about 30,000 people, and there's a familiar feel to the place. It's as if the Ghan has transported us back to the '70s and into a dusty Kansas town. There's a Kmart just down the street, and a huge Woolworth's anchors the shopping mall.

What makes it different — very different — are the aborigines, standing in small clusters on street corners or wandering through the mall, chatting in one of their many tribal languages. Many of the women are clad in skirts and blouses made of wildly colorful fabrics that contrast dramatically with their dark — almost literally black — skin. Several of the men are wearing jeans, cowboy boots and wide-brimmed hats, marking them as "stockmen," the Australian equivalent to our Hawaiian paniolo. From what I'm told, they are every bit as skilled in the handling of horses and cattle, too.

By 1 p.m., the Ghan is off again, southbound through the Outback. At first impression, there appears to be a monotonous sameness to this harsh landscape but in fact, it's constantly changing: sometimes flat with almost no vegetation, then gray-green brush and scrawny trees appear. Later still, there are rocky mesa-like hills framing the horizon.

Just as I'm finishing lunch in the dining car, the Ghan slows, then trundles onto a bridge crossing the Finke River. It's several hundred yards wide, and a few weeks ago, after heavy rains, this was a serious waterway. Today, however it's almost bone dry, save for some water ponding here and there in low spots.

CAMEL DAYS

The man seated across from me runs an office-supply business in Brisbane. Staring out at the dry riverbed, he says with a distinct note of pride, "That's Australia for you, mate. Either too wet or too dry, too hot or too cold."

Perhaps, but from my limited experience, it's mostly very hot and very dry. In fact, that is precisely why camels were brought to Australia during the late 19th century, to carry men and supplies into the Outback for the building of this very rail line. The Afghan herders who came with the camels were nicknamed "ghans" by the Aussies, and it's from them that this train got its name.

The next morning, when I raise up on an elbow in my comfortable berth to peer out the window, the Outback is behind us. Adelaide is less than 300 miles up ahead, and at the moment we're passing broad fields of grain, recently mowed. There are flocks of sheep, too, grazing on the stubble. Gently rolling hills in the distance are topped with stately wind turbines.

The closer we get to Adelaide and the end of our journey, the more passengers gravitate to the lounge car, where e-mail addresses and phone numbers are exchanged. Outside, clusters of houses are beginning to appear, then an occasional small town. After coming from Darwin through endless miles of arid desolation, familiar signs of civilization seem vaguely out of place.

Suddenly we're in the suburbs, the Ghan rattling through a crossing where a dozen cars wait behind lowered gates and flashing lights. Ten minutes later, the journey is over, and we're standing on the platform at Parklands Terminal.

Adelaide is a very comfortable city, with wide streets, well-tended parks and friendly people — a bit larger than Honolulu, but similar in many ways, and I'm looking forward to seeing a bit of the town.

Yet my trip is really over. As anyone who has traveled by long-distance train knows, it's not about the destination, it's the journey.