Slow and Easy – A Haibun

Writing haibun poetry is my favorite kind of poetry to write.  A combination of prose and haiku, haibun is better for me to tell a story than any other kind of poetry.  So, this week’s blog is a haibun of our ride on the Royal Gorge Railroad.  (The Cranky Crone)

Slow and Easy – A Haibun

Slow and easy is the ride on the Royal Gorge Railroad.  Powered by diesel, the ride does not include the soot and grime that accompanies a ride behind a coal-fired engine.  If you’ve taken the Cumbres-Toltec train between Chama, New Mexico, and Antonito, Colorado, or the Silverton Train in southwest Colorado, you know about soot and grime.  Both of those rides pass through beautiful country, but neither of them takes you into the depths of a canyon like the Arkansas River Canyon.  Before the Arkansas River goes crashing through the canyon, it has started somewhere near Leadville, Colorado, fed by winter snowpack.

Eons of time make

A canyon deep and narrow

Run a train through it

Reservations for my Nebraska journalist friend Mary Jane and me were in the observation car where our attendants that were friendly and knowledgeable.  Passenger presence may have been somewhat reduced because school is back in session; and so, the two of us were seated at a table for four.  Several tables were sets of two people where four might have been seated on a busier day.  We loved the extra room.  Lunch was great.  The food and the service were excellent.

Passengers on board

Eat and talk and like the view

Maybe, take a nap

Mary Jane left the observation car to be in the open-air car to get a full view of the canyon.  I like staying inside, so my time was spent photographing the canyon walls, the river, and the rafts and kayaks challenging the rapids. That is, of course, why it’s called an observation car – you can see the outside from inside.

What are they thinking

Daring water with their lives

What are they thinking

The train smoothly traveled the rails on the north side of the river, close to the canyon wall.  Across the river, the wall was just as steep, allowing for nothing like a shelf road or railroad bed to exist beside the edge of the river.  For miles, the only man-made thing we saw on the south side was the deteriorating trestles that held the pieces of water transport pipe built to supply water to the State Prison in Cañon City; later, it was also used to provide water for the city.

We reached the end of the west-bound journey where the train reversed direction to return to Cañon City.  Still on the north side of the river, our engineer seemed to have just put the train in reverse and off we went.  When we reached the spot where the Royal Gorge Bridge was directly above us, the  train stopped for passengers to photograph the bridge so high above us.  After that, I remember taking a short nap.  In my defense, it was a SMOOTH ride, and I AM eighty-three years old.  A ten minute nap was just the thing to do!

Can you see the bridge

So very far above us

Look up and see it

Mary Jane returned – laughing – to our table from her time in the open car.  She told me that one of the women in the open car with her asked why we weren’t returning to Cañon City on the south side of the river.  She thought the whole train would be turned around to head back on the south side of the river.  Mary Jane and I wondered if she had paid any attention on our west-bound trip – that there was no track on the south side of the river.  Only space for the water pipe, hanging precariously on the side of the canyon above the river

We could have spent more time riding the Royal Gorge Train, but our journey ended about two-and-a-half hours after it began.  Thoroughly enjoyable, I would do it again in a heartbeat; maybe, the next time I’m in the city of my birth.

Be safe and be well.

The Cranky Crone

If you have thoughtful feedback or questions, please let me know with a comment below.