Bill Middleton's new book is a collection of stories about favourite train journeys by this inveterate railway enthusiast and train traveller. A half century career as an engineer, Naval officer, and university administrator took Middleton to almost every part of the globe, and everywhere he took with him an abiding interest in railways, and a notebook and camera to record his experiences. His North American journeys have included experiences as diverse as the long journey north through Manitoba to polar bear country on Hudson Bay, a trip to Minnesota's Mesabi Range to haul a boatload of iron ore to Lake Superior behind a giant Yellowstone articulated steam locomotive, or the trip between Costa Rica's Atlantic and pacific coasts by narrow gauge railway. His European travels have ranged from a Pullman seat on the crack London-Paris Golden Arrow to the slow trip across Thrace on one of the last runs of the celebrated Simplon-Orient Express. In Asia he travelled through the Toros Mountains of Turkey on the famous Istanbul-Baghdad Toros Express, experienced modern high-speed railroading in the cab of Japan's Bullet Train, and rode to Asia's highest mountain east of the Himalayas on the little trains of Taiwan's Ali Shan Forestry Railway.
From a 1959 trip on the Duluth Mesabi Iron Range Railroad, pulled by a 2-by-8 with a Yellowstone 2-8-8-4:
'All black,' called the brakeman as the Yellowstone leaned into a curve and he looked over the train. Ahead, a trackside farmhouse stood out momentarily as the headlight beam swept around the curve. Green interlocking signals and a clear order board led the way through Alborn and Coleraine Junction. It was 9:05 p.m. and the Saginaw hill was just 10 minutes away.
Crackling lightning to the south had given way to more rain. Wet rail was going to make the hill just that much tougher. App had the tonnage rolling for all it was worth as the 2-8-8-4 charged through Burnett and stormed the 4-mile grade. At the Cloquet River bridge a diesel came grinding down the hill with yet another string of empties for the range.
Slowly the grade cut into the Yellowstone's speed. The exhaust that had been a continuous rush of sound became a series of separate and distinct reports, as the stack hurled soot and cinders into the sky like a giant shotgun. Steaming beautifully, the big engine never faltered as App laid a fine stream of sand on the wet rail from both sanders and adjusted throttle and reverse lever to get the last ounce of tractive force.
Wham! With a sound like a minor explosion 228 slammed under the highway 33 overpass. Smoke and steam swirled through the cab, and cinders pelted the cab roof as they rebounded from blast plates under the concrete slab. Just a little over a mile to the crest now.
Minutes later the white frame Saginaw depot loomed up in the headlight beam, and the M4 rolled over the crest with a few miles per hour of momentum to spare. Ed App eased off the throttle and looked distinctly relieved. With a certain smugness I remembered that diesel that hadn't quite made the hill earlier in the day. Railroads Past and Present edited by George M. Smerk