In Egypt, there were miles of sand, which refused to remain pleasantly flat. It made the tracks undulate so much that it gave our train a pronounced sway – so much so that at times it felt like the car holding our cabin was going to tip right over. There was also some slightly suspect food. By the time we arrived in Luxor, I was sick as a dog, and spent the entire night in our hotel bathroom. But there was no way I was going to miss the tour of the Valley of the Kings the next morning, and though wrung out, I did it, by God!
In Peru, we snaked along the unruly Urubamba River, watching clouds lower onto the tops of the surrounding Andes mountains. In places the track had been cut through the rock and we edged along sheer faces of it or through narrow tunnels. Next there might be a small grove of banana trees, or stands of prickly pear cacti. Periodically we’d pass a train making the return trip from Aguas Calientes, the town at the base of Machu Picchu, as well as piles of sacks of potatoes (waiting for transport by a more utilitarian train) and a few stacks of construction materials.
On the Eurostar ‘Chunnel’ train, we raced from England to France so smoothly that we had no sense of the speed until we passed another long train in a flash. And if you’re wondering, it’s completely black inside the tunnel and we dozed off. Still, it was pretty cool to travel right under the English Channel inside an engineering feat for the ages.
My hubby and I enjoy all forms of transport, from horses to race cars, but I think trains are our favourite. There’s something wonderfully romantic and intimate and relaxing about them, sitting and watching a world that no motorist can see pass by through your window. You might have tea, or a meal, while you people-watch the others in your car. There’s a characteristic sound as the train rolls along the track, and the shimmy that makes you stagger slightly on trips to the washroom.
My hubby and I take trains whenever we have the opportunity – usually a specialized version transporting us to a remote location, or a local nostalgia excursion in vintage cars. To us, the experience of being on a train trip is the point, i.e. it’s less the destination than the journey itself.
And so I was sad to hear that the British Royal Train is slated to be decommissioned next year, after 158 years of service. It’s another economization by the Royal Family to keep themselves relevant in an era that increasingly questions the validity of monarchies.
I understand the move politically, the optics of spending less money. Princess Katharine wears some pretty nice duds, but she also shops at places you or I would, and re-wears a lot of items in her closet, sometimes redesigning them slightly to freshen them up.
Previous British monarchs kept themselves separate from their subjects, behind an aura of glamour and ‘otherness’. They had the mystique of being ‘ordained by God’ to rule the country (and one-time empire). Queen Elizabeth II kept up this modus operandi, maintaining strict protocol whenever she was in the presence of the common folk. It worked for her; there was just something about the way she operated that subliminally said “I am THE QUEEN”.
Princess Diana came along and completely broke that mold, doing things like hugging AIDS patients that she visited and walking around land mines. People loved her for it.
Surprisingly, despite their tragic marriage, she seems to have rubbed off on King Charles, and definitely on her sons. I watch William and Kate and am regularly impressed by how much they engage with people from all walks of life. Recently Kate visited an old textile mill in Wales, chatting and browsing the display of fabrics, and offering first-hand support so that traditional crafts aren’t lost to time.
The royal family have travelled around recurrently for many decades, and personally I feel a comfortable private train to expedite their journeys wasn’t too much to ask.
The British Royal Train began its run in 1869, after Queen Victoria took a jaunt on the Great Western Railway train on June 13, 1842 and enjoyed herself thoroughly. Nine custom-designed “bespoke” cars were made at Wolverton Works, containing offices, bedrooms and a dining car were put on the track, and allowed the royals to work and sleep while they travelled through the UK.
In 1901, King Edward VII introduced electricity to the cars, powered by the steam engine. In 1941 a generator was installed in 1941, as well as telephones and a radio.
Queen Elizabeth II used it frequently when she became the monarch, and there are photos of her and Prince Phillip waving gaily as it departed stations.
Today there are seven carriages. One is a day coach for King Charles, along with his bedroom, bathroom and lounge and a dining car. The rest are used by support staff.
The carriages are owned by Network Rail while the locomotives, named King’s Messenger and Royal Sovereign, are owned by DB Cargo UK, who provides engineers for each journey. Gemini Rail Services now runs Wolverton Works, where the train is still maintained, and supplies on-board personnel.
It’s been an expensive proposition, to be sure. The annual publication of the royal finances revealed that a journey on the royal train over two days last February had cost over £44,000 (currently about $82,000 CAN). Storage alone costs £400,000 each year. So it makes fiscal sense, I suppose, to turn it into a museum, with the upside that visitors will be able to step on board and imagine themselves travelling about in gorgeous clothes, waved at by throngs of well-wishers wherever the train stopped.
Trains are a delightful remnant of a less-hurried world, hovering just a few feet above the countryside as they wend their way along, comfortable and cozy. I hope they never become defunct.
