Trains

 

Mum’s fascination with trains in Sri Lanka started when she came with my brother for Christmas in 1989. This was when we hired the Viceroy Special, a steam train, to go up to the hill country for Christmas. A colleague had suggested getting a group of people together to hire the steam train to take us all up to the hills for the holidays. Despite my natural inclination to run a mile from large group events, this one seemed like too good an idea to miss. So he set it up and we all boarded the train in Colombo. There must have been about 20 of us and it seemed a bargain. Mind you, there were not a lot of tourists around in those days; too many people intent on killing each other. The journey was from Colombo to Nanuoya which is the closest you can get to Nuwera Eliya by train.  It did take a long time or so it seemed. The track stems from the planters' desire to avoid a 12 day bullock cart journey to take their goods to Colombo for shipment. The section we were on was completed in 1885 and took the best part of a day.   

Mum loved the majesty of it all. I'm sure she felt like the Queen! Kids ran after the train waving at everyone. Villagers stopped what they were doing to wave at us as we went past.  Crowds gathered every time we stopped to fill up on water (which happened too many times to mention). We could stop the train anywhere. You just needed to tell the driver you wanted to take a picture. We travelled through lots of different landscapes, climates and geographical elevations, stopping to enjoy the valleys, mountains and waterfalls on route.  The railway viaducts, bridges and tunnels  are still  impressive engineering feats today. It was one of those experiences that stay with you,  and mum always talked about the time we hired a train.   At the end of it mum got a commemorative plate with a picture of the train on it and this hung on her wall in her house in Bothwell right up to the day she moved here.  We stayed in the Hill Club that Christmas.  My brother had to borrow a tie before he was allowed in the dining room.  It was cold but we were well provided for with fires in the rooms and a hot water bottle each.

Like boats, mum seems drawn to trains. And they do seem to be part of our landscape now. The Swimming Club in Colombo where we often go for lunch or dinner has got the main railway track south running between the pool and the sea. Mum can sit and count the trains that go past at frequent intervals. She does try to count how many go up and how many go down but totals elude her. Despite the fact that there are some new trains around the majority are still very open and certainly the commuter trains are typically jam packed making mum worry about casualties. She is always happy to go to the Swimming Club; she never remembers its name but the minute you mention the trains, something clicks and she readily gets her shoes on.  

The track south follows us as we drive up and down at the weekends. There is a stretch at Moratuwa  that runs along the coast parallel to the road. Considering the usual state of mum’s memory  it never ceases to surprise me that  the minute we hit this stretch she will ask “Where are the trains?” and even more surprisingly  9 times out of ten, one will appear. This is even wierder when you discover she thinks she is in Motherwell at the time.  Trains running along the same track (but much further south) can also be heard from the poolside at the Fortress as the track runs parallel to the coast but just a little inland.  She can be watching for the ships passing when all of a sudden you can hear the train horns in the background  warning people and cars not to cross at the railway crossings behind the hotel. “Train,” she will say.

Even in the flat in Colombo trains intrude. Again the same rail track is only a block or so away. And amidst all the other noise of colombo on a busy day, the train sound can be heard distinctly. Unawatuna is no different. The Galle-Matara track runs a fair distance away behind the house. Nevertheless when  there's a train (and it's a popular commuter and tourist route) mum spots it. She even imagines trains when there is none to hear. The noise of the fan on the porch in Unawatuna she always claims is a passing train. This would be a bit of a feat if it was the case because it is always on. But I've given out pointing out the noise is from the fan. If she wants it to be a train, then so be it!