By the time we got to Porus we would have already spent several hours on the train and eaten most of our lunch plus whatever else we had bought along the way. Porus, was the longest stop en route because a lot of cargo was taken off here, for distribution in the hinterland. As well, frequently another engine was added for the continuing steep ascent through the hills. Porus was noted for its farm gate fresh tangerines and oranges hung on strings in bunches of one dozen. We always chose the tangerines as a knife was not required to peel them. Sometimes “bammy”, a type of round cassava bread, was also available and the quality in this area was considered exceptional.
The air was noticeably different – fresher and cooler, in this part of the country. The earth was also different. It was a bright red brick colour, contrasted against very green grass. This was bauxite country and the home of the Alcan, Jamaica – Kirvine plant. We could see a “tailings pond” as the train went by.
I was always anxious to get to the tunnels and would count them off on my fingers. With the advantage of a window seat, I could watch the train meandering up the hillside – the valley on my side of the train and the opening of the tunnel ahead. I would pull my head in before the train entered the tunnel and suddenly, we were enveloped in darkness as we whizzed through the tunnel to emerge again in bright sunshine and look out over the same, or another valley. From experience, I knew there were at least six or seven tunnels, enough to carry through to nightfall if the train was late!
The vegetation in these hills was dense and at dusk could seem quite foreboding, looking out, as the trees briefly took on all sorts of ominous shapes, when the light from the engine fanned out beyond the tracks.
As the train got closer to its final destination, there were fewer passengers on board. There was now lots of space to stretch our legs. I would start counting the number of stops left to our destination – Cambridge, Montpelier…three, then two…By the time it got to one, we started assembling our snacks and purchases, checked the location of our suitcases and waited for that wonderful refrain “all tickets please, all tickets please…” With one stop to go, the conductor was not going to do the rounds twice. He’s had a long and busy day!
Slowly, the train pulled into Anchovy – a hamlet really! First the station master’s house was visible. Then the station and the station’s platform. As the train was inevitably longer than the platform, our coach would not stop in front of it, so we had to jump down from the train steps to the grassy verge below. We scanned the faces waiting to see if we could locate our grandmother and wave to her. She would come running alongside, knowing that Anchovy was not a long stop. Bags were handed off and we were helped down by other passengers. People were always kind and helpful to us. Then the train whistled and sped off into the darkness. Although it was scheduled to arrive at about 5.p.m., it was 6.p.m. or later when it pulled in, at dusk. But amid the excitement no one complained, not even of tiredness or the length of the journey, no one! As far as we were concerned, our adventures were just getting into “higher gear!”
