Mars Lights, Night Shots, and the Musings In Between

It takes about half a day, in general, for the first wave of cell phone pictures and hastily edited DSLR shots documenting a notable steam excursion to show up on social media. So it was with the 844’s run a week ago. Those of us who were there snapped our shots and got them up as soon as possible; those at home followed eagerly to get their first, second-hand glimpse of the locomotive in service in almost three years.  

Most of the discussion surrounding those earliest photographs and videos was congratulatory, invigorated, thankful to see such a notable locomotive returned to the rails. It did not take very long for a refrain to emerge out of the comments, though: Where is the Mars Light?

It was understandable that so many people would notice that the 844 had reappeared without its ruby-red headlight: For decades it had been prominently visible, and removing it did give the locomotive a different profile. Hearing its absence brought up so often, though, soon became a bit grating. Was it not more important that the 844 was hot, under full pressure, approaching Denver at a steady mile-a-minute clip?

Later that evening, after the 844 has been tucked into a siding near the Denver Coliseum and hidden safely away from its admirers, I move on to the Colorado Railroad Museum in Golden. They have two of their engines in steam to pull the day’s rides and to provide the subject for a nighttime photo charter put on for National Railway Historical Society convention, happening concurrently on the same weekend.

Number 346 is the workhorse for this weekend’s activities. It is a unique engine, sleek and compact compared to the K-37s and K-36s that are common to this part of the world. The design of those burly engines alludes to the truly massive forms of motive power that began to appear on the mainlines around the same time; the 346’s form instead harkens back to the small American types and their slow march across the prairie.

Night comes in earnest as soon as the sun retreats behind the mountains, and the darkness brings out the 346’s most distinct feature. It has the typical classification lights mounted on each its smokebox, but, quite unique among surviving steam locomotives, they are lit by kerosene instead of by the dynamo.  True to history, the lights are somewhat troublesome to keep lit--the crew spends a good fifteen minutes playing with the wick and fuel in between the last passenger runs-- but eventually, they consent to provide a steady, amber burn.

The photo shoot gets under swing just as dusk arrives, and in between bursts of flash, the 346 disappears into the night. It would be misplaced completely if not for the two dim, oblong rectangles at its carapace. The locomotive seems to squint out of the darkness, to dare us to click the shutter, to roil with mischievous inclination. It is downright eerie to hear the 346 barking down the track, but see nothing of its form except for the twin lights and the faintest outline of its boiler and domes.

Experiencing the 346 like this, in the deep of night, makes for the kind of surreal experience that sucks you into a different frame of mind, that tempts you to think that you might have inadvertently ventured somewhere beyond humanity’s normal purview. I would go as far to as to say that the classification lights were integral to the mood at this particular photo charter.They were akin to the glowing skylines and neon lights in the city,  to the starlight and campfires in the wilderness, other small, luminous details that can turn a passing moment into a truly lasting memory.

I came away from the photo charter in a more pensive mood, a bit more sympathetic to all the talk of But what about the Mars Light? Each of the surviving steam locomotives commands a loyal following, in no small part because they seem to inspire us to the sort of emotional catharsis that otherwise takes great effort to achieve. Sometimes one specific apparatus, or a certain shade of paint, any other small that seems to give a specific engine its character.

It is understandable, then, that there is usually some backlash to real or imagined changes to a steam locomotive’s cosmetic components. Take those away and the locomotive may not be as effective in  evoke a certain mood, animating a long-dormant memories, or providing a fleeting sense of the familiar. As with actual human beings, the jewelry is part of what gives a locomotive its ‘personality.’

On the other hand, though, the presence or absence of a light is completely unconnected with the things that make steam locomotives truly transcendental--their heat, their smells, their keening cries from the distance. Incidental apparatus only help personalize an already sentimental experience. Lights or not, the trains are still running, and for me, that's enough.