Nomad of Mid-America
Epilogue
At the turn of the year, 2019/2020, I made a pilgrimage to the last holdout of steam-powered revenue rail service in the world. Isolated physically due to its location on the Gobi Desert's cold lifeless plains and figuratively in time from its outdated-yet-enduring technology, the otherwise unremarkable coal mine railroad at Sandaoling in the Xinjiang Autonomous Region of western China became the focus of steam aficionados the world over, the final thread to which workaday steam locomotion grasped while all other counterparts dissolved into nothing more than memories. As 2019 turned to 2020, a lucky seven JS class 2-8-2s clung to life here, living out their final days and concurrently the final days of steam operation, amidst rumors of the demise of the pit mine and the closure of the railroad as collateral damage. Against an outlook certainly bleak, an awe-inspiring show played out each and every day, commencing with the servicing at sun-up, turning to the dramatic performance of 8-coupled drivers marching in unison to lift their payload out of the pit at midday, concluding with volcano-like displays of sparks being hurled out of the stacks come nightfall.
The trip itself was an adventure. After a few days of sleeper-car and high speed train trips across the eastern half of the country, exploring ancient wonders and the unique facets of daily Chinese life at every stop along the way, we touched down late-night in the Gobi city of Hami, nearby to Sandaoling. A sputtering, poorly sealed, knock-off Land Cruiser of unknown Chinese branding was our chariot, picked up from a mom-and-pop rental car agency and filled with gas from a station gated and secured from foreigners. Checkpoints dotted the landscape, inside which curious guard personnel checked with much apprehension the identification cards of us American "tourists", a strange demographic to a region so guarded and far-removed from anything most of the western world had ever seen. All the while, a pair of security guards assigned specifically to shadow our presence kept constant surveillance on each and every one of our actions--or at least in theory, as the surprisingly incompetent group showed little concern with our behaviors or understanding in our unusual fascination with the steam locomotives that plied the land and mostly left us to ourselves. Overtones of Uyghur suppression, one of the current world's most notorious cases of governmental immorality, ran rampant in every facet of life in Xinjiang. But against such serious topics of personal freedoms and alleged genocide, our journey explored fresh experiences and created lasting memories; perusing the wares of vendors of markets on densely-packed city streets, munching on freshly rolled noodles each morning at the breakfast joint in a small desert town, stumbling across a long-abandoned village with remnants of a larger-than-life mural of Chairman Mao fading on its stone flanks at the town's center. And perhaps most memorable of all were the exchanges of friendly smiles from the faces of different shapes and colors living half a world away that have so little in common of language to lifestyle, but nevertheless share perhaps the most fundamental connection of all: humanity.
At the start of 2020, the daunting tick of the clock in its eleventh hour could be heard all around Sandaoling. It was to be the last year for the mine railroad and would bring to a close over 200 years of motive power history it burdened on its shoulders. Estimations proved to be exaggerated, as 2020 came-and-went, as did 2021, with steam still clinging to life. But the grave was finally dug in 2022. In late April, the last coal trains from the pit mine ascended to the desert floor and most of the fires were unceremoniously dropped shortly thereafter. Almost immediately, demolition crews began scouring the earth at the physical plant, ripping up the tracks into the pit and stabbing the final dagger into Sandaoling. It is rumored that a couple steam locomotives will remain to switch the small yard that connects the nearby underground mine to the national rail network. These will join the rumored sporadic revenue steam operations spread in small pockets of the globe such as Asia and eastern Europe.
But truly, it is all over. Steam locomotion's reign lasted over two centuries and played a monumental role in shaping the world into what what it looks like and how it operates in the modern age. Its pragmatic functionality has been praised for its ground-breaking utility and grand sensory effects, enduring long after the innovations conceived to replace it were implemented in droves. But time and technology always marches on, and continuous improvement yields more efficient means of solving society's problems. The limitations of steam and its more feasible alternatives were realized many moons ago, though they took longer to travel to wind-swept Sandaoling, where on an early morning in the first days of 2020 JS #8225 rested in anticipation of a fresh load of coal and water at the Dongbolizhan depot. But as right as things were on that cold January morning, there was never a doubt that the demise of steam would catch up with Sandaoling, too. With the loss of these scenes, the final chapter has been written on steam's incredible story, 118 years after Trevithick's locomotive plied the rails for the first time. The fireboxes have gone cold, and Gobi Desert plains are now even colder.
Epilogue
At the turn of the year, 2019/2020, I made a pilgrimage to the last holdout of steam-powered revenue rail service in the world. Isolated physically due to its location on the Gobi Desert's cold lifeless plains and figuratively in time from its outdated-yet-enduring technology, the otherwise unremarkable coal mine railroad at Sandaoling in the Xinjiang Autonomous Region of western China became the focus of steam aficionados the world over, the final thread to which workaday steam locomotion grasped while all other counterparts dissolved into nothing more than memories. As 2019 turned to 2020, a lucky seven JS class 2-8-2s clung to life here, living out their final days and concurrently the final days of steam operation, amidst rumors of the demise of the pit mine and the closure of the railroad as collateral damage. Against an outlook certainly bleak, an awe-inspiring show played out each and every day, commencing with the servicing at sun-up, turning to the dramatic performance of 8-coupled drivers marching in unison to lift their payload out of the pit at midday, concluding with volcano-like displays of sparks being hurled out of the stacks come nightfall.
The trip itself was an adventure. After a few days of sleeper-car and high speed train trips across the eastern half of the country, exploring ancient wonders and the unique facets of daily Chinese life at every stop along the way, we touched down late-night in the Gobi city of Hami, nearby to Sandaoling. A sputtering, poorly sealed, knock-off Land Cruiser of unknown Chinese branding was our chariot, picked up from a mom-and-pop rental car agency and filled with gas from a station gated and secured from foreigners. Checkpoints dotted the landscape, inside which curious guard personnel checked with much apprehension the identification cards of us American "tourists", a strange demographic to a region so guarded and far-removed from anything most of the western world had ever seen. All the while, a pair of security guards assigned specifically to shadow our presence kept constant surveillance on each and every one of our actions--or at least in theory, as the surprisingly incompetent group showed little concern with our behaviors or understanding in our unusual fascination with the steam locomotives that plied the land and mostly left us to ourselves. Overtones of Uyghur suppression, one of the current world's most notorious cases of governmental immorality, ran rampant in every facet of life in Xinjiang. But against such serious topics of personal freedoms and alleged genocide, our journey explored fresh experiences and created lasting memories; perusing the wares of vendors of markets on densely-packed city streets, munching on freshly rolled noodles each morning at the breakfast joint in a small desert town, stumbling across a long-abandoned village with remnants of a larger-than-life mural of Chairman Mao fading on its stone flanks at the town's center. And perhaps most memorable of all were the exchanges of friendly smiles from the faces of different shapes and colors living half a world away that have so little in common of language to lifestyle, but nevertheless share perhaps the most fundamental connection of all: humanity.
At the start of 2020, the daunting tick of the clock in its eleventh hour could be heard all around Sandaoling. It was to be the last year for the mine railroad and would bring to a close over 200 years of motive power history it burdened on its shoulders. Estimations proved to be exaggerated, as 2020 came-and-went, as did 2021, with steam still clinging to life. But the grave was finally dug in 2022. In late April, the last coal trains from the pit mine ascended to the desert floor and most of the fires were unceremoniously dropped shortly thereafter. Almost immediately, demolition crews began scouring the earth at the physical plant, ripping up the tracks into the pit and stabbing the final dagger into Sandaoling. It is rumored that a couple steam locomotives will remain to switch the small yard that connects the nearby underground mine to the national rail network. These will join the rumored sporadic revenue steam operations spread in small pockets of the globe such as Asia and eastern Europe.
But truly, it is all over. Steam locomotion's reign lasted over two centuries and played a monumental role in shaping the world into what what it looks like and how it operates in the modern age. Its pragmatic functionality has been praised for its ground-breaking utility and grand sensory effects, enduring long after the innovations conceived to replace it were implemented in droves. But time and technology always marches on, and continuous improvement yields more efficient means of solving society's problems. The limitations of steam and its more feasible alternatives were realized many moons ago, though they took longer to travel to wind-swept Sandaoling, where on an early morning in the first days of 2020 JS #8225 rested in anticipation of a fresh load of coal and water at the Dongbolizhan depot. But as right as things were on that cold January morning, there was never a doubt that the demise of steam would catch up with Sandaoling, too. With the loss of these scenes, the final chapter has been written on steam's incredible story, 118 years after Trevithick's locomotive plied the rails for the first time. The fireboxes have gone cold, and Gobi Desert plains are now even colder.