by James Burke

One only needs an active imagination to enjoy Iron Horse encounters of the past throughout The Four Corners Country. Just follow an abandoned grass grown grade cutting with recognizable grace thru brushy hillocks and curving accurately atop an old eroded fill to that place where a few weathered timbers still stand, of a once tall trestle spanning laughing waters. Sit for a while and absorb the sounds of the still happy stream. Soon the strains of a distant steam whistle will stir your senses—faintly from far beyond the woods that swallow the grade. Subtly the unmistakable cadence starts to rise."—I think I can—I think I can—I think I can." A cloud of smoke and steam erupts above the trees and the yellow glow of a headlight pokes through the gloom. In full view now the shining Iron Horse gallops toward you—rods flashing in the sunlight—smoke and steam casting shadows—and passes above atop the tall sturdy trestle. Then the rumble of tonnage as the cadence begins to fade. The benign caboose draws a calming curtain.

—The laughing waters retake the stage—undistracted by what has passed.

It can happen in the Ponderosa forests stretching south from Flagstaff to Mormon Lake and the Mogollon Rim.

It can happen on the cedar studded highlands west of Cedar City where rails once wound around and up to Iron Mountain.

It can happen in Salina Canyon where rail less tunnels now stare astounded at traffic on Interstate 70.

It can happen on the Alkali flats of the seared Cisco Desert where scattered ties lie like bleached bones of an ancient snake.

It can happen in the Canyon of the Lake Fork of the Gunnison and along the shores of storied Trout Lake and here— along El Rio Chama.

—But Wait!— By Gawd Maude

—That warn’t no ghost!

Copyright 2000-2006 James Burke

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