The Train To Taitung

Pa and I both had an itch to hop on a train, to ride the rails to an unknown destination.

Having only experienced Taipei, we didn’t know what was possible. But having traveled together long enough, we know almost anything is possible.

Without a guidebook, we consulted a map.

North, east, or west wouldn’t give us the journey we yearned for.

But south, yes south was the ticket,

and a train would get us there.

Pa grew up with trains, as I did. Knowing Walt as he does, Pa recited a few lines:

The walking beam of the steam-engine, the throttle and governors, the up and down rods , the cart of the carman, the snow plough and two engines pushing it, the ride on the express train.

My earliest recollections are of being with my father, a switchman on the Rock Island. When I was old enough, and could make it through the night without complaint, my father would take me with him to ride in the lead engine, his engineer buddy at the helm. I’d look out the window from the great beast and watch my father work the yard, coupling and uncoupling the boxcars, cattle cars and tankers bound for elsewhere.

Neither Pa nor I expected the experience of our youth. But still, to ride the rails is always a thrill, no matter how quiet the ride might be.

If you’ve traveled to Southeast Asia, Hong Kong, Taiwan or Japan, you know that 7-11’s are nearly everywhere,

and you can purchase almost anything you need to make it through the day - train tickets included.

So we stopped at the one nearest the Taipei Triple Tiger, and with the help of a young clerk, were in and out in a matter of minutes, ticket in hand. The next afternoon we’d be on the 426 at the Banqio Station - destination Taitung.

We arrived early, and were down below with minutes to spare.

Again, for those who’ve traveled the far east, you know that a train station is a quiet place where the rules are followed without exception,

and no one utters a word.

Edward Hopper?

Our ticket was for 12:33, and at 12:33 the 426 arrived.

Two minutes later and we were on our way.

Quiet though it was - there was no sound of wheel touching rail beneath us - it was all we hoped for.

The Pacific to our left,

mountains

and fields to our right.

Occasionally our view was interrupted by a city,

or town,

or dwellings in the distance.

And at times there was competition.

But mostly it was just us and the 426, making our way south,

and look’n out to sea.