
The Mountain Pass by Local Train
The local train crosses the mountain pass in stages. It climbs beside a river, enters a tunnel, and emerges above a line of roofs before turning toward a high meadow. The journey takes less than an hour, but the changing views give it the spacious feeling of a much longer trip. At the lower stations, passengers carry shopping bags and work tools. Higher up, a few travelers board with walking poles and folded jackets. The train is not a dedicated sightseeing service; it simply connects places where people live along the slope. Each station marks a different arrangement of the mountain. One sits beside a sawmill, another beside a school and playground, and a third has only a shelter and a path leading into forest. The names on the signs are short, but the places behind them take longer to understand. The tracks follow the river where the valley is wide enough, then move into tunnels when the rock closes in. In a tunnel, the windows become mirrors. I see my own reflection, the faint outline of other passengers, and the landscape briefly replaced by the interior of the carriage. At the pass, I leave the train for a short loop to a lookout. The path climbs through larch trees, each trunk marked by thin orange lichen. A wooden rail follows the steepest edge. Beyond it, clouds move across the…
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