iGuanaGaL's Blog: The Train To Copper Canyon

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

The Train To Copper Canyon

by K.M. Samet

The summer of 1972 was hot. The sun shone overhead mercilessly as I boarded the train to take the scenic ride through the Sierra Madres down to Copper Canyon.
It was a long trip, over ten hours, and the train seats became uncomfortable after awhile - even the spectacular scenery was overshadowed by the need to move about, stretch my legs and be released from my little confined space inside the passenger car.
I decided to take a walk to the dining car and get a cup of coffee. I was surprised when I got there to find that the coffee was served in fancy cups with saucers - I had been expecting something much less glamorous, as this was Mexico - and the touristas had not yet discovered its then unspoiled wonders. Most things were simple there, unpretentious and understated. But here, even the tables had linen table cloths, and the dining car stewards wore tux shirts and cummerbunds.
Sadly, two cups of caffeine was all I could take, and I was not looking forward to returning to my cramped seat. Still a little stiff, I got up to return to my seat and give others my table.
On my way back to the passenger car, I had to pass in between the train cars - which for some would have caused a great deal of anxiety as there was not a lot between me and the ground save a small safety gate - it looked as if one good bump could send me flying right off the train, and it was moving along at a good clip.
I was hanging on to the hand rails and thought I'd stop and have a smoke before I went back to sit down.
Leaning up against the back of the train, I lit up and leaned back to relax and watch the clouds race by. Standing there, the wind whipped around me - it was over 90 degrees, and the coolness of the air rushing over my body was soothing. I begin to lean into the rhythm of the train as it went along the tracks, a predictable movement only interrupted by some occasional swaying as the tracks curled around the tall mountains down into the canyon. Relaxing, I realized I now had "the best seat in the house" - no longer impeded by a roof over my head, I could see everything in the entire valley rushing by me - the majestic mountains spread out before me as far as the eye could see.
The sky was a brilliant blue, white clouds floated by - it was like riding in a convertible car. Most people going from one car to the other raced by rather quickly, no doubt feeling the same initial nervousness I had felt at first, had they but only stopped for a minute and given it a chance, perhaps they would have found this place I had found. I was thankful for the solitude, though.
There was a feeling of adventure in my bones as I stood between the cars, hair flying in the wind, sun shining down on my face - a private adventure as I looked out at the expanse of mountain range before me - thinking about the men who had lain the tracks, what life was like there before the railroad was built, and feeling somewhat like the desperadoes of days gone by, secretly riding the rails, perhaps only one step away from being thrown right off by an angry bump, or an even more angry porter catching me hitching a ride.
Most experienced the ride that day within the confines of a steel cage - I experienced most of the rest of the trip outside in the fresh air, feeling wonderful and free.
Taking just a little risk enabled me to see so much more of everything - I felt as if I had been let loose onto a movie set where John Wayne would come walking out any minute, or perhaps if I looked carefully below me, I might catch a quick glimpse of The Sundance Kid hiding beneath the cars.
A trip through the Sierra Madres, a journey of epic proportions, and one lone woman standing in between trains having the time of her life.

// posted by iGuanaGaL @ 10:52 PM