Rail away

I stirred, and the world awoke.

Slowly at first, the first sliver of dawn crossed the land. Then, gradually and certainly, the sun came out, its rays caressing the tops of bare and broken trees like a gentle touch, while the frigid night slowly sank away. Frost, and flakes of ice that glimmered like tinsel in the morning light, flew past the window. The train rocked steadily on.

Just the day before, a crazy thought crossed my mind. A leap of faith, a sudden determination that removed (almost) all doubt, and a few hours later, I am journeying into the northern prairies and forests, into a land I have never been before, but somehow seemed so familiar from pictures in brochures. Soaring pine trees with upturned arms embracing the heavens, enchanted woods of green, yellow and red, rolling creeks reflecting the world in its watery surface, jagged rockfaces covered with a layer of ice, broad estuaries, the distances spanned by lonely railroad bridges. And now, I was finally here.

What lay at the end of the line I did not know. Did it matter? Sometimes, breaking away from the routine of school and work, even if it meant a 'temporary absence' (read: skipping class) does good to the soul. A still world flashed past, barely enough time for me to see and admire all the beauty in the lifelessness that is just beginning to see the life of day. A vast land stretched, till an endless horizon. I imagine those pioneers who first scouted these lands so very long ago. Did they too feel such a similar sense of awe and inspiration as I did with the nature all around? Mountains stretched like the crooked backs of sleeping black bears. Suddenly, the lonesome whistle of the engine was embarrasingly loud.

Sometimes the rail tracks run parallel to one another, across this stunning yet desolate landscape. There are moments when a single track must run its own course alone, encounter bends and winds and steep obstacles uphill. At other times, the tracks splits, and trails along the smooth calm sea, white picket fences of quiet little towns, and empty stations with but a wind-roughened sign and bare bench. Like people, tracks cross, come together, and part again, only to meet and merge into one further down the journey.

Rail away, rail away...


  
  (On a 17hr journey to surprise and support a friend who is going through a very rough low point in life...)