Around the U.S. By Train – Part 2

When I wake up and peer out of the window, we’re passing slowly through Lordsburg, New Mexico, a dry and dusty town of some 3300 people. Just a few hundred yards off to the right is the Luxury Motel, which, judging from it’s exterior, isn’t. It’s a dump, but is no doubt a whole lot better than the internment camp located here during World War II in which 1500 Japanese-American citizens were held.

Back in open country again, the Sunset Limited is rocking along at a steady pace across a landscape that is tabletop flat – sandy brown, but dotted with gray-green clumps of grass. There are mountains off in the distance, shimmering in the haze and the heat. A small herd of antelope is apparently finding something to graze on a few hundred yards from the tracks.

We cross into Texas while I’m at breakfast and, 20 minutes later, as the train slows nearing El Paso, we literally pass within 40 or 50 feet of the Mexican border which is “guarded” here by a four-foot high chain link fence. That’s Mexico … right over there.

I try to imagine actually building a effective barrier fence along the entire border, through the endless, dry, hostile wasteland we’ve been crossing for the past 18 hours. A few minutes later, I mention this to our car attendant, Phil, as we stand beside the train in the El Paso station. He shakes his head. “Craziest idea I ever heard of,” he mutters.

Forty-five minutes later, we’re off again, heading across West Texas. The countryside is more of the same: vast stretches of hot, dry scrub land. We occasionally cross narrow dirt roads that head off straight-as-a-string to the horizon and beyond. What could possibly be at the end of such a road?

And it’s hot out there. Very hot. I have a small radio receiver that lets me listen to conversations among the various members of the train crew and, just after noon, the engineer and conductor agree that we should reduce speed to 45 mph because the outside temperature is causing one of the locomotives to overheat.

Mid-afternoon finds the Sunset departing Alpine, Texas, which gets its name, I suppose, from the fact that we’ve been climbing gradually for a while and the terrain has become considerably more uneven … dry stream beds cutting through actual hills, causing the train to swing right then left as it threads its way through them. It’s a bit cooler here, too, and we’re back to running at 70 mph.

We’re also beginning to see more wildlife: jack rabbits with comically long ears and more pronghorn antelope. Up ahead and off to the right there are low gray clouds with streaks of rain slanting down, then disappearing – evaporating – before reaching the ground. There are cattle, too … small herds with numerous calves that scamper away from the train, then turn and stare as we pass.