Railroad Landscapes: West Virginia — Cleveland — China — Hokkaido — Western U.S. — Portland
What I remember is a dazzling October Sunday afternoon when I was 10, standing with Mom in the warmth of the slanting light and looking down into the depth of the shadows where a hundred-car coal train twisted along the river, 600 feet below us. I had learned to count on those black hopper cars with the yellow Chessie logos, but in a state so wreathed in dense foliage, there are few chances for a boy to witness the entirety of such trains.
More than two decades later, I still marvel at the majesty of the canyon and the novelty of seeing a mile-long train from beginning to end. Now I also know that those trains are carrying away parts of the mountains, and now I must live with this conundrum. There is dissonance in the harmony I seek between the coal trains and the mountains and rivers they traverse. Yet the notes sound sweeter when heard from far away, so I still seek those rare openings between the folds in the mountains, where I can trace the bends of the rivers and catch the shimmer of the following rails. I look now with the knowledge that all is not harmony along them, yet I feel not repelled, but drawn in even deeper.
