Christmas time and trains

Setting up dad’s old train on Dec 1 is as much a tradition in many homes as is putting up a Christmas Tree. Trains still hold a fascination and thrill. But will our little boys and girls romance the train in the same way we do?

Most adults have some hands-on recollection of the train. It isn’t just about some horrible accident reported on the news or that black moving thing in the far off distance that dad and mom excitedly point out. Christmas time and trains bring back many fond memories for most.

There’s one in my memory I’ll never forget. As I look at the broken tracks and derailed train cars that sit beneath our “boy-handled” tree, I am taken back to an adventure in the Andes Mountains some years ago at Christmas time.

I decided to buy a train ticket into the past. I left Cuzco, Peru, on a third class, commoners train filled with Indians, straw and farm animals. I never traveled with the tourists if I could help it. We were headed for the mysterious ruins of Machu Picchu – an Inca village, built centuries ago and 14,000 feet above sea level.

The altitude made me sick to my stomach and my head ached. The hype of Christmas was no where to be found. Our train sped deeper nd higher into the jungle and far from civilization. The thought crossed my mind that these Indians may resent my presence. Not one smile reflected mine. I began to sense that something foreboding was about to occur.

Suddenly, the train began to teeter from side to side, then slammed to a halt. The animals, the Indians and I all became one big heap at the end of the car.

I scrambled to my feet and made my way outside the train, not knowing what I would find. Within minutes every fellow passenger seemed to evaporate into the jungle and I stood there totally alone. The train had fallen off the track in the middle of nowhere. The locals knew where they were going, but for me, there was no civilization in sight. I felt for the small piece of bread in my pocket and wondered if the sustenance would keep me alive until found.

The knowledge one reflects upon immediately is that there are no journalists to report the train accident, no helicopters hovering, no emergency assistance teams gathered together to save you. This is it. If you are going to live it will be because you struggled to make it so.

I instantly undestood why some American’s kiss the ground as they return home from the untamed worlds beyond our borders.

I walked towards the head of the train, hoping to find some fellow human beings. It was a sad sight. The front car held tourists. For them this was a day trip. The women wore sandals, sun dresses and tear stained faces. They were not equipped to handle the situation we found ourselves in.

Of the 20 or so remaining souls, none of us spoke the same language. I guess because I always went looking for adventure, I was mentally prepared for it when it came to me. When the elements are beyond my control and fear threatens to govern my actions, I whip out every song my memory can find. I began to sing Christmas carols while a man speaking German led us to shelter in one of the train cars. For hours and hours we sang Christmas carols in every language represented.

That year, Christmas came a little early for 20 frightened souls. We received the gift of continued life on this earth and the knowledge that we could survive almost anything.

For many, trains are the vehicle that touch our lives in unforgettable ways. On Sept 9, 1900, the first coal-dawn train cars came to Piute County.

In the next 49 years, mining booms and the livestock industry caused Piute to grow to several thousand people. It was a rich time for this little county. But the train is now gone and with it went the jobs and most of the people. And now, even the tracks have disappeared and have been replaced with a bicycle path.

The mining towns have become ghost towns, the deceptive hills have driven away the investors and the environmentalists attempt to keep hidden, the wealth beneath the earth.

But the little doorways into the mountain mines can still be seen from Highway 89. For a few more generations, moms and dads will point them out and talk of the train that meandered near those doors, and how once those trains brought a way of life now long forgotten.

For the souls that continue to remain in Piute County, the train under the tree is a special symbol. As we watch it encircle our Christmas trees, we give thanks for our lives and the knowledge, born somewhere in our past, that we can survive anything, even the changing of an era.