My ride on the incredible Australian train that winds through lush rainforest to a station where PYTHONS glide across the platform… here are my images

When the first pile was broken on May 10, 1886 for the 37km Cairns to Kuranda railway line, designed to connect the sleepy coastal town in far north Queensland with the rugged interior, wild celebrations took place with roasted oxen and large quantities of beer continued well into the night.

They knew then that this was a huge moment: laying the tracks would require hundreds of workers, inns to meet their (often thirsty) needs, plus hotels and support businesses galore.

The line would also provide vital transportation for tin and gold miners, and open up fertile pasture beyond the feared mountains.

In one fell swoop – much to the dismay of nearby Port Douglas, which had also competed for the railway – Cairns was firmly on the map and the future looked bright. The trains were coming!

They could not have imagined that for 140 years, carriages full of tourists – some in the ‘Gold Class’ sipping fine wines and nibbling cheese – would travel along the winding line into the dangerous rainforest for their pleasure. After all, in the 1880s the interior was a place of malaria, dysentery and appalling conditions.

It is believed that a total of 32 navvies (construction workers mainly from Ireland and Italy) died during the construction of the line, which eventually opened in 1891.

Today you board at Cairns station, tucked away by a multi-storey car park and a huge shopping centre, a ten-minute walk from the oceanfront Esplanade with lively seafood restaurants and bars.

It is a somewhat gloomy place, far removed from the tourist glamor of the city. Yet it is lit up by something very special: the brightly colored locomotives of the Kuranda Scenic Railway, which offers rides in beautiful old rickety carriages – some more than 90 years old with original oak panels.

MailOnline Travel’s Tom Chesshyre boards the Kuranda Scenic Railway (above)

The 27-mile route passes through Barron Gorge National Park, Queensland

Tom is pictured above in a Gold Class carriage, fitted with ‘chic’ green and gold armchairs

My train has ten carriages – there can be up to fifteen (with a capacity of 500 passengers) – pulled by two diesel-electric locomotives of the class 1720, built in 1966, each with 1,000 hp engines.

Trainspotter-esque facts perhaps, but this power is important: the line, on narrow gauge (3ft 6in), rises dramatically from sea level to 328 meters (1,076 feet) in height (crossing 55 bridges and entering 15 tunnels). The appearance is vital.

After admiring the locomotives, which are painted with images of Buda-Dji, the ‘carpet snake’ from the ‘dreamtime’ stories of indigenous Australians, I get into my carriage and it rattles.

The fun of the ride comes from vibrating out of the city center, with its gritty auto parts yards and warehouses, followed by smart suburban homes with solar panels and swimming pools, into the deep, uncompromising rainforest of palm fronds and towering dangling eucalyptus and fig trees . climbing plants.

Colorful butterflies flicker here and there. Tropical birds tweet. You are officially in the Wet Tropics of the Queensland World Heritage Site – more specifically in the Barron Gorge National Park, through which the Barron River flows and follows the path that Buda-Dji is said to have built many millennia before the settlers Down Under arrived in the 1770s.

The change of scenery happens quite suddenly, almost before you have a chance to take in the surroundings.

I was in Carriage Ten, standard class (called Heritage Class), dating from 1944 and with an interior decorated with burgundy leather sofas, old black and white photographs of the brave 19th century navies, beautiful oak paneling and open windows with metal bars. The latter provided a nice cool breeze. No need for air conditioning.

The train stops at Barron Falls, ‘a beautiful waterfall that tumbles 265 meters (869 feet) over large boulders into the valley’

Kuranda train station has more than 200 plants – and sometimes you can see pythons gliding across the platform, Tom learns

The only other ‘luxury’ consists of a simple water cooler in a corner (there is no dining car). However, in Gold Class (on selected services) you do get beautiful green and gold armchairs plus beer, wine, soft drinks, cheese platters, sorbets and souvenir cards and pens.

This is an additional £28 each way. I am reliably informed by Aiko, one of the cheerful guards. The Heritage Class fare for a single journey is £29.

Deeper and deeper the train winds into the jungle – tree kangaroos, possums, flying foxes and strange cassowary birds lurking somewhere. A running commentary tells you all the basics, about the trials and tribulations of the workers of the 1880s.

Some of those affected are said to be buried under the tracks we drive on. Meanwhile, in those early days, dilapidated encampments with rough and ready bars had sprung up along the line.

There are several highlights of this utterly glorious ride. After an early 180-degree turn called the Jungarra Loop, the carriages clatter on to the 80-metre-long Stoney Creek Bridge. And here, on my trip, we are followed by a tourist helicopter – hovering dramatically above a gorge.

Further on, the train makes a stop at Barron Falls, a beautiful waterfall that tumbles 265 meters over large boulders to the valley floor. What a spectacular view.

Tom meets Kuranda stationmaster Paul Courtney, who reveals that a five-metre python was once spotted on the platform. But he adds reassuringly: ‘They don’t like people’

Station master Paul in the greenhouse of the Kuranda station. ‘How many stations have such a station?’ Tom notes

Tom is pictured here in the old-fashioned signal box of Kuranda station

The final treat is pulling into Kuranda station – perhaps the greenest in the world, literally. More than 200 plants grow on the long, curly platform (many in hanging baskets). I know this because I am told all about it by the friendly and very long serving station master Paul Courtney, who points out ‘elephant ear’ plants with huge leaves and ‘painter’s palette’ plants with bright red flowers.

After showing the platform greenhouse (how many stations have one of those?) and the old-fashioned signal box, I ask about snakes. The rainforest looks like prime snake territory.

“Oh yeah, mostly they’re just pythons,” Paul says casually. ‘We once had one of five meters. Most of the time we just wait for them to slip away. They don’t like people. But if they don’t leave and there are passengers nearby, we’ll let them move.”

Of more concern are taipan snakes. “They are one of the deadliest snakes in the world,” Paul says again nonchalantly. But apparently they are quite rare.

At the end of this fantastic ride – one of the best for this distance – you’ll have the laid-back town of Kuranda to explore with its charming restaurants, bars, art galleries (some featuring top-class native Australian works) and cheap and cheerful souvenir shops.

All I have to do now is return to sea level, which I do via the amazing Skyrail cable car, which rises above the rainforest canopy. You can of course also take the train back down.

Any rail enthusiast visiting Australia should prepare for Kuranda’s 1 hour 55 meter ride, as tourists have been doing since 1936, when the first services for holidaymakers began.

One of the most beautiful railway stories – and most beautiful journeys – awaits you.

• Tom Chesshyre is the author of Slow trains to Istanbul… And back: A 4,570-mile, 55-ride adventure published by Summersdale.