Trains

Our place here, up on the hill, is just far enough from the tracks that the trains passing through the canyon in the night are charming. From down on the river, though, it is a different story. It’s nice down there. Campsites backed right up to the rushing river. You leave your bedroom window open at night so you can sleep to the sound of the water. Then you get the trains. Ten trains a night. Freight trains. Coal trains, a hundred cars long, fully loaded, two engines in the front, three in the middle, two in the back, grinding their way up the canyon, the scream of metal-to-metal, steel wheels on steel tracks, straining around the sharp turns.

From up here, in the distance, it is a charming sound.