Blue Train

About every month or so, I have lunch with some people who are very dear to me. This is to say, a group of about a half-dozen women that I worked with for 20 years or more, including the woman who was my supervisor (supervisor to all of us, actually) for many years, and then she retired, but then she came back and worked part-time and I was HER supervisor. Which we worked out between us with a marvelous aplomb. None of it mattered: by then, we were friends first, everything else second. Anyway, the group of us that goes out together is usually a total of six. But today, two were missing: one was having knee replacement surgery, and one other was having an eye doctor appointment. So on this day we were four.

I say "worked," past tense, because all of them are retired now but me. I am, as I often say, "the last of the Mohicans," the last member of my original working group from the mid-1980s to still be employed. And don't think that every time I see them, they don't tell me about it! How wonderful my retirement will be. How I won't have any trouble at all filling up my time. Oh, and how soon might that be? But that milestone looks to still be a few years out for me. So we lunch, and we chat, and I am envious. But still happy. Always (or mostly) happy . . .

On this day, we had lunch at Cafe on the Park, a little restaurant on the edge of Talleyrand Park in Bellefonte. I had a slice of quiche and a nice little salad with ranch dressing. And we yakked and we yakked and we yakked. As we were leaving, my one friend, who is a Bellefonte native, commented to me that the last time she was in Talleyrand, she thought she had heard trains on the tracks - sometime around 1:30. (Whether or not these tracks carry trains regularly had been a matter of some debate.)

And then our lunch was over, and instead of going straight home, you know what I did. I had wisely marked the afternoon as vacation time, and so was not in a big hurry: I grabbed my camera and took out for the railroad tracks which run along the edge of Talleyrand.

You've seen Talleyrand three times before: the bridge across the big spring run, the spring itself, and the beautiful railroad track that runs across a little bridge and past the historic Match Factory.

When I responded to comments on the railroad track blip, I promised a few of you that the next time I was in Talleyrand Park, I would show you the view of the railroad tracks looking in the other direction, toward the big red brick buildings of the Match Factory. And I set out to do that. I walked down the tracks, stood on the bridge, took a bunch of pictures. I shot it in auto, I shot it in vivid, I shot it in mono, I shot it posterized. I shot it every which way to Sunday. I was sure I had a decent one in the bag. I was happy. I had accomplished my goal.

And four little kids followed me out onto the railroad bridge. They were playing; I was taking pictures. And then we heard the sound that will either delight you - if you are a railroad lover - or make your blood run cold - if you are a railroad lover who just happens to be stupid enough to be caught on a railroad bridge with a train coming. It was the sound of a train whistle!

So I did what any self-respecting adult would do. I tucked my camera under my arm and RAN like the dickens! The four little kids, who had been slipping down between the slats in the bridge to look at the creek, also wisely high-tailed it on out of there. I did look later, and if I were skinny enough (which is a matter of some debate, and I would only know if I could do this if I tried it), it might have been possible to jump through those slats into the creek below. (If you are doing something that is potentially ill-advised, it's wise to have all possible escape routes plotted out. Intrepid photographers, make note of this. Someday you may thank me.) But I would have had to sacrifice my camera to the water: the choice between my life and my camera is one I hope I never have to make.

Anyway, on this day, the fates were with us, and after all that excitement, no train came! We all stood at the edges of the bridge and looked at each other. And I admit I was wary of the bridge for a while. But apparently the train that had been coming took a side path. I had been biding my time taking pictures of the green willows by the creek, and the endless parade of ducks. So after a reasonable amount of time, I got back on the rails and walked them. Instead of heading down toward the Match Factory, though, I walked back up toward the Gamble Mill Tavern, which is the red building you see in this picture.

I had never seen the Gamble Mill from the back, and it was startlingly lovely. All nice shapes and neat windows, very symmetrical and pleasing to the eye. And crisp and lovely against the blue sky that was emerging from behind the morning clouds. I crossed the tracks, stopped at the creek, captured some reflections of the building in the water. And then I heard it: a train whistle! And felt the rumble on the tracks that can mean only one thing: an approaching train! This time it was for real!

So I made my way to a safe vantage point, and I watched the train approach, snapping several pictures as it came. It was not moving at a very fast speed; in fact, I might have been able to run faster than it was moving. This was the final shot I got of it coming at me, and at the very last minute, I took a risk and switched from auto to vivid mode - which gave me a redder than usual Gamble Mill Tavern and a bluer than usual railroad engine. When I downloaded the pictures, I backed off the color saturation quite a bit to get the somewhat more normal looking result you see here: blue engine against red building, but the color tones are just a bit sweeter than usual.

The train, which came through at maybe a quarter to two, was the highlight of my little photo shoot. I had a delightful time on the train tracks photographing them. As I've mentioned before, I'm the daughter of a railroading man - my father worked as a railroad brakeman on the Enola yards in Marysville (across the river from Harrisburg) for 40+ years - I talked about that a little bit here. And so I have come by my love of trains - and train tracks - honestly. I waved to the engineers - I always do, for railroading is a lonely business - and they waved back. And we smiled at each other. It was a beautiful day. The moment passed, and I followed the train down the tracks back down to my car and headed for home.

There is a price to be paid for such adventures though, apparently. I noted as I left the tracks that I was limping a little. My right foot hurt. Apparently, outrunning two trains and walking for a ways on the railroad tracks in both directions required a bit more support than the work flats I had on my feet. (My husband told me when I got home and relayed my adventures that I should buy some steel-toed boots if I planned to chase trains. My reply: Yeah, but what should I wear if the trains chase ME?) So: note to self, better shoes next time.

I wanted the song to accompany this train picture to be a Johnny Cash song, for the man can sing a train song like nobody's business. And so the song that had been running through my head (Oh listen to the jingle/ The rumble and the roar/ As she glides along the woodlands/ Through the hills and by the shore) was the Wabash Cannonball. But I also wanted to add a bonus song for this blue blue train (or at least a blue engine), and so here is that song also. It's from the album Trio II, featuring Linda Ronstadt on vocals, with Dolly Parton and Emmylou Harris on back-up: Blue Train. Every song on the album is good, and I highly recommend it.