She yanks hard on the 2-foot-long rope stretched above the engineer's head. Instantly, a two-toned train whistle blasts into the bright autumn afternoon. This ear-splitting noise marks the high point of my 7-year-old daughter's first train ride. For me, the sound conjures nostalgic images of train robbers, hobos and the wild West.
We've just pulled out of Belfast aboard the self-propelled "Budd" rail diesel car. The authentic-looking conductor says this train is roaring down the tracks at between 12 and 14 miles per hour. That's about as fast as we'd be traveling on a bicycle, I figure.
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Train rides in Maine feature everything from Thanksgiving dinner to stops at an antique car museum. Click here for a list of some of the train-related attractions.
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From the looks of it, nobody here is in any rush. The 25 or so passengers lean back against vinyl seats and take in the view. It ranges from sweeping vistas of Belfast Bay to intimate glimpses of the estuaries along the Pasagasawamkeag River. On this early fall morning, we're still weeks away from peak foliage, but the maples and poplars are showing splashes of crimson and gold. We squeeze into the engineer's driving compartment and feel the brisk breeze through the screened front window.
This 90-minute ride, offered by the Belfast & Moosehead Lake Railroad Co., is one of about a dozen passenger-train trips available in the state. Trips range from a 15-minute tour of a re-created historic town to a multiday excursion with hotel stays and gourmet meals. Maine train buffs can even climb aboard to enjoy Thanksgiving dinner or to sip hot chocolate with Santa Claus.
For us, the Belfast trip holds special appeal because of the other attractions we've discovered in this coastal town – the bears, for starters. The Belfast Bearfest, from mid-June through mid-October, puts more than 50 larger-than-life-sized bears on display. Local artists paint fiberglass, touchable sculptures to resemble everything from a bride in an off-the-shoulder wedding gown to a collage of portraits of beautiful women. The bears are auctioned off in late October to benefit local charities.
We've also found great food and shopping in this eclectic town. We try to time our trips to Acadia and other coastal points to allow for stops in Belfast for breakfast at Dudley's Diner or dinner at Darby's Restaurant and Pub. Both are memorable for good eats, pleasant atmosphere, and friendly servers. Shopping opportunities range from collectibles at The Purple Baboon to books at The Fertile Mind Bookshop.
All aboard
We arrive in Belfast about an hour before our departure time of 1 p.m. The ticket office on Front Street is housed in a cherry-red antique railroad car. The price of $20 for one adult and one child seems reasonable.
After buying our tickets, we drive over to Dudley's Diner on Main Street. We'd looked forward to a lunch we'd enjoyed here before: a hot dog for my daughter, Laura, and clam chowder and grilled cheese for me. But the diner serves only breakfast on Sundays. So we settle for a fine meal of scrambled eggs, home fries, bagels and juice.
Over breakfast, we confer with the waitress about the bear sculptures. She shares a story about a sophisticated woman from a city south of Maine who purchased a 6-foot-tall bear at the auction last year with the intention of displaying it on her front lawn. "I live in a very snooty neighborhood," she told our waitress.
We have a few minutes to duck into the "Out on a Whimsy" gift-shop before returning to the train station. I'd like to buy a realistic-looking violin-shaped music box and a collection of small, colorful glass fish. Laura spots a handsome Halloween-colored teddy bear in the half-price basket on the store's front sidewalk. We decide to mull over the purchases during our train ride.
Back at the train station, we're pleased to see a large group of fellow riders. I knew the trip would be more fun for Laura if there were other kids on board. The conductor, Jim Butler, explains that we'll be traveling seven miles up the line to Waldo Station. "It's a town with a population of about 10 if everybody's home," he says. We'll make a short stop there at a reproduction western-style village, then return to Belfast. "I guess I'm supposed to say something like 'All aboard!'" he announces in closing.
Butler is one of the highlights of the trip. He's been well cast as conductor. He's a tall, white-bearded man who's mastered the art of conversing with children. As soon as we find our seats, he invites Laura to color a picture to add to his prominently displayed collection. He then announces a challenge: along the lines of "The Price is Right." He offers a free washer-dryer set will be given to the passenger who can find these appliances on board.
Laura and I give up quickly on the washer-dryer question. I wonder if Butler's speaking in some sort of train-conductor code language. But we accept his invitation to explore the car. We watch as the engineer slows at crossroads and waves to passers-by. We look out the windows for signs of bald eagles and deer, wildlife that have been spotted during previous train trips, according to Butler. We walk hand-in-hand up the aisles as the train sways alarmingly from side to side.
Belfast bound
The stop at Waldo Station is disappointing. The reproduction of a western town, featuring a jail and saloon, is amateurish. We get out to shoot pictures, then climb back on board.
The novelty of the ride has begun to wear off for Laura by now. She keeps herself busy finding train-related terms in a word puzzle provided on board. Butler offers some interesting information about the sights outside the window. One riverside spit of land, known as the Beavertail, is the site of an archeological dig, he says. Based on the American Indian artifacts found there, historians believe this spot was an important food-gathering locale for native peoples. They would catch fish in summer and dry it for use in winter.
We also learn that trains began running in this area in the 1870s. Steam engines were used at that time for transporting granite in the Belfast and Searsport areas. The train we're on was built in 1950 by the Budd Co. of Philadelphia and was previously used for the Boston and Maine Railroad.
Butler then makes a surprise an- nouncement. Someone has won the washer and dryer. Laura quickly looks up from her word puzzle. The conductor strides down the aisle to retrieve the "appliances": a wooden clothespin with a small metal washer attached. Someone on this train is either highly perceptive or has taken this ride before, I whisper to Laura.
We retrace our route alongside Belfast Harbor. It's now crowded with sailboats and small fishing vessels. The last quarter mile of the trip is the most scenic by far, I decide. Other passengers agree.
"I loved the old train and the scenery near the water. But once you're past that, the scenery got a little dull," says Mary-Beth Taylor of Poland. "But they were very accommodating. They let people walk around and had things for the kids to do."
Taylor's traveling companion, Judith Taylor of Portland, adds that she was impressed by the train's authentic details, such as antique light fixtures.
Laura and I stop at the small gift counter in the ticket office, then continue our browsing around Belfast. We peruse the Halloween decorations, Beanie Babies, and glassware in The Purple Baboon. We return to "Out on a Whimsy" to buy Laura's half-priced Halloween bear. We then enjoy a snack of clam chowder and French fries at Darby's Restaurant and Pub on High Street. The chowder is thick and subtly seasoned with sage and other spices, from the taste of it. This eatery also makes a chicken and cashew chili that I'd wager could win a statewide chili contest.
While we sip our apple juice and iced coffee at Darby's, Laura points up at a painting that covers one wall. "That's us," she says excitedly. It's a picture of a steam engine emerging from the woods beside a placid river.
In that tiny statement, I see the value of this adventure. She and I have stepped beyond our usual roles of mother and daughter to become fellow train travelers. We've explored the new territory of sun-swept harbors and swift-moving rivers. We've hurtled along the tracks at 12 miles per hour.
The next time I hear the two-toned train whistle, I won't just think of hobos and train robbers. I'll recall a day of riding the rails, hand-in-hand with a second-grader.
Michele Pavitt is a free-lance writer who lives in Brunswick.
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