I assume this feeling is as old as railways themselves. You know that feeling you get, whether you are a railfan or not, when you first see the light of the engine coming your way? Perhaps it's that feeling you get on a station platform, knowing that your train will soon be arriving, and thus, taking you to where you want to go, whether it be home for a rest (pun intended) or to the waiting arms of a loved one elsewhere.
Or it could simply be the feeling that a train will soon rush by where you are standing, breaking the momentary peace. You can already smell the creosote and hear the clicking and buzzing of insects trackside. Perhaps it's just a light hush of wind over the shimmering snow in winter.
It's the feeling of anticipation.
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You see your quarry before you can hear it. Sometimes, it's the faint rumble you feel before the horn sounds. Sometimes, there is no horn at all, just a bell (or possibly an electronic approximation). But the train always comes and the moment is usually charged. It might amble by you slowly, as you bathe in the heat and exhaust lines emanating from the power. Or it might rush by you, swallowing you up in its slipstream, carrying you a half step off kilter with its wind.
I've always enjoyed that feeling that something is coming and you don't always know what it is. Will there be an old car from a long-forgotten fallen flag in tow? Will it be a unit train with an endless line of tank cars? Is it a container train, with its colourful assortment of boxes stacked two high for a mile? Or is it simply a sleek, streamlined, orderly Venture set?
When I was growing up in my hometown, the rail line was a quick minute bike ride from my house. The crossing had very few visual obstructions, as there was no town to speak of where I used to watch the trains go by. Now, there are homes, a car wash, commercial development and other developments of all sorts.
One time in Peterborough, as I was going for an evening jog along Lansdowne Street, I saw the crossing signals go down and heard the train coming. I had more than enough time to cross the tracks, but I didn't. I stopped, took a breath, and watched as two SW1200s and a mixed freight rushed by, on their way to Havelock.
When I lived in Kitchener, my gym backed onto the tracks, and there were a few windows for train watching. I recall a time when I stopped what I was doing, and watched a local shunt a few cars into the Lancaster Street yard, with the conductor braving the elements, manning the switches.
Even now, with very little to see, I can still sometimes hear the passing Via Rail trains a ways off from my home, breaking through the hum of the city, letting me know they are on their way to their destination.
And that feeling returns. Anticipation. What does that train look like? Where is it going? What stories does it hold?
Timeless.
6 comments:
My school friends and I, all budding railfans, were also 'a mile or so' to the CN Kingston Sub in Amherstview. Before a row of townhouses was built trackside, we could get a glimpse of the eastbound train we were racing to see on our bikes, legs burning!
I think your post reminds us why next to nobody takes a picture of the middle of a train going by. It's almost always the head-end, and it's all about the anticipation and what ended up passing by!
It's the difference between going to see the same rolling stock static in a museum or seeing it fly by. It's the movement!
Thanks for sharing,
Eric
That's a familiar story, Eric! I remember doing the same. I think we sometimes get so caught up in the numbers, the engines and the details that we sometimes forget about the thrill of the chase, the awe of so much power and weight in motion, and the initial inklings we had in childhood that inspired our love of trains.
"I've always enjoyed that feeling that something is coming and you don't always know what it is" - I swear this was written for me because that's always the draw and the feeling every time I am by the rails. This hope and excitement that something COULD come and you never know what to expect. I spent a few years growing up down in Trenton with the CP mainline at the bottom of the street/hill from my house - you could always hear activity which for sleeping took some getting used to! I could mostly see the tracks from my front door and yet I loved that sense of wonder each time I was outside with the fact I could virtually look up at anytime and see absolutely anything. Usually it was the expected headends with what seemed like endless stacks grumbling by, but once in awhile I got to see some special ones poke through. Never forgot that feeling or lost that wonder and it has been so fun passing that onto my kids slowly as they get into those fun single digit ages.
We lived in Milton when I was a kid, and skied at a place called Glen Eden. You actually had to cross under some CP tracks to get from the parking lot to the ski hill. I watched hundreds of CP freights over the years, along with the evening GO consists on their way to Guelph or wherever they parked for the night. Pretty sure Milton was the last stop on the GO line back then. We even recognized the odd power, as there was an F unit that had an engine fire at some point, and wasn't repainted. Them were the days!
These are all great memories, gents. Thanks AJ! It's good to hear from you again and I am glad you are passing along your love to your kids. Keith, those are great reflections. I do miss being close to a CP line, as that railway's history runs deep in my family and I have great memories of watching CP trains in Windsor.
I love that feeling of anticipation. Hearing the train but not seeing it yet. Wondering what's on it. Sometimes, wondering which direction it's coming from!
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