Megan G. is a 19-year-old artist who seeks adventure, sunshine, and plans to travel full time.

It was a foggy November night. Connor assured me I was able to back out if the idea of riding a cold, wet train did not speak to me. Around 10 p.m. we arrived at the Longview Train Station and waited for a northbound train to Little Rock, Arkansas. This was my first train hop, a very calm route, just a straight shot from here to there. I was excited. We’d bought a 3 a.m. Amtrak ticket back to Longview to be sure we had a ride home.

The sounds of steel rolled up. “This is us” Connor said. We walked into the yard and scoped out the cars to make sure this train was bound to stop in Little Rock and climbed into the porch of a white plastic hopper. Water puddled at our feet. We laid our packs down and sat on two trash bags to keep dry. Ten minutes passed and we began to roll.

The train stopped twice the whole time. We climbed on top and listened to music. The forecast predicted rain, but we only received light sprinkles. Laying on our backs, the water pelted my cheeks, making them sting from the blistering wind. Silhouettes of pines zipped past. I turned to Connor and said, “I understand why you enjoy this so much.” It felt like my whole world was on standby. The ten hour ride felt like five.

As the sun rose, we began to dismount. My first mistake was not looking fully ahead. I started to step off only to notice a small bridge in front of me. My second was not taking my pack off beforehand. I was not able to keep my feet stable, causing my left leg to get hung up on the rocks below. I knew I shouldn’t panic in fear of getting swept under the wheels. My knees dragged under me causing minor scuffs and bruises. As the train started to gain speed, I pushed myself away from the ladder and stumbled as my feet made contact with the rocks. 

Our itch to draw became strong. We walked four hours to a Hobby Lobby to acquire markers or paint and made our way back to the tracks. Around midnight, we set up a sleep spot about five feet from the tracks. Laying under a signal box, I found the rail rocks comfortable.

The bright light of an oncoming train is not how you want to wake. We were two feet from a Union Pacific engine honking at us, holding on to each other's shoulders, swaying left and right, pulling each other to a fence away from the train. The train rolled past. We caught our breath. Still clinging to one another, we moved farther from the tracks. Neither of us could remember waking up or how we ended up standing near the tracks. It might have been the lack of sleep and food. After the shock dissipated, we laughed about how we wished we could have seen footage of ourselves.

Three in the morning rolled around. A woman on the Amtrak scanned our tickets and guided us to the top floor. Our bodies melted into the red leather of the seats, and a deep sleep soon followed.

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Masthead

Editor-in-chief — Andrew Fedorov

Rails Editor — Connor McFarland

Altitude Editor — Matt Gu

Deputy Rails Editor — Connor Noble