Hard Work On the Peñoles Railroad

"I'm not afraid of the bridge, Senior. I'm afraid of what I will land on when I fall off of it!"
- Pedro

Peppy slowly withdrew a thin steel rod from the firebox of El Burrito, one of the two locomotives owned by the Peñoles Mining Railroad. At the end of the rod were two perfectly roasted peppers that he gently removed and placed on a plate covered with Huervos Rancheros. Yum! Nothing like a good breakfast and he didn’t even have to leave the locomotive. In August the town of Madimì is already over 100 degrees in the morning so the loco makes a great stove for frying eggs.

The little Porter belches thick, black smoke as Peppy cracks the throttle open. Adobe engine houses don’t have very good ventilation with their flat roof construction and small windows so the heavy smoke chases coworker Pedro out of the building coughing and gasping for breath. Slowly the tiny engine creeps across the well-rusted rail toward the oil bunker.

With a drink and a bellyful of oil, El Burrito is ready to make the long vertical journey to the mines. Pedro has link-and-pinned two ore cars and the “fortress” flat car to the loco. Jose and German jump on the flat car, their large shotguns slung over their shoulders and their water canteens dripping on their pants legs. They can sleep on the way up since there is no silver to guard on this empty train.

Enrique the telegraph operator runs out to the train with the paperwork to give to the Station Operator in Agua Caliente, a small town half way up in the mountains. The only way to get to this town is by train and most of the time the telegraph doesn’t work so the boys drop off paper letters quite often.

The cars bang and bump as the rough track trips the train on its way up the steep grade. The first of a series of dark tunnels approaches and Peppy and Pedro pull their bandanas over their faces and slide their enormous sombreros down over their eyes. As the lights go out the cool of the rock and the oily black smoke engulf them. Darkness surrounds them as the rock passes inches away from the cab.

They explode back into the blazing Mexican sun and expunge their lungs of the greasy cloud that has invaded them. The inferno penetrates their cotton shirts and the perspiration begins to form again. Pedro looks back at Jose and German who are still sleeping soundly on several bags of flour. Tough job being a guard, I guess.

The water level is just right and Pedro loosens the valve to increase the oil flow. They’ll need a little more steam as they continue to climb up the steep slopes. Both men watch with great attention for rocks and boulders that might have found their way on to the track. Without air brakes stopping the little train is almost impossible.

Just up ahead now is the town of Agua Caliente. It’s on the north side of the mountain and is the hottest place in the region. Here is where they load lime for the smelter in bags and barrels for a trip down the hill. The engine crew won’t get off the train here. They never do. It’s a very dangerous place, Agua Caliente. Two rival families control the town and its gun and liquor smuggling. Everyone avoids the Baxters and the Rojos. You just leave as quick as you can and keep your head low.

The locomotive belches fire as we slowly stop at the tiny station shack. A very old man stumbles out on to the track and swaps papers with Pedro. He’s a nervous little man who smells of tequila. Peppy pulls the bell cord and wastes no time spinning the wheels on the little burro. The climb gets steeper from here so he’ll try to pick up some speed.

Jose pours water on an old rag and wipes the dust from his face. The noon sun is starting to make the rivets on the flat car as hot as an iron skillet. Flies encircle German’s head as rivers of sweat pour down on the ammunition belt slung across his shoulder. The flat car bounces even harder.

All vegetation is gone now except a few small shrubs just barely clinging on for life against the side of the tan rock. Looking up you know you’ll see a boulder falling down on your head. It’s a long walk back to town if you lose your locomotive and Pedro and Peppy have done it many times. Most of the rust is just on the outside so maybe the little loco will last another year. Maybe.

They pass through another tunnel and tight curve around the mountainside. Several vultures have noticed the little train rattling along its course and are hanging around just in case a free meal is to be had. German aims his gun with a skillful eye and BLAM. Once less vulture is flying and one free meal is served. With the tip of his hat he shades his eyes and German is again fast asleep.

The breeze picks up as they enter the highest reaches of the peaks. It is a hot wind like a blast furnace and it carries the sand up from the plains. Again the bandannas cover the now oil covered faces of our two heroes as they prepare for the truly frightening part of the journey. The suspension bridge.

She stretches for 1,000 feet across the chasm, held up by wire rope stretched between two spindly towers of riveted wrought iron. Down below is 320 feet of air and then a cavalcade of jagged rocks. As they approach they can see the bridge sway in the furnace like winds. It appears they will be going across today as they have done hundreds of times before, hoping they will make it home to their children again. They are paid well for what they do but a dead man makes no money.

Peppy drops the throttle back and checks the gauges. You don’t want to have a problem on the bridge and you can’t go too fast. As the weight of the engine grabs the bridge there is a slight drop. A different kind of sweat stings Pedro’s eyes and they slowly drag the train over the floating track. The breeze moves them to and fro and the men never look anywhere but forward. They are motionless as the steam from El Burrito creeps out into the air. Slowly. Slowly.

On the other side of the chasm El Burrito strikes the ground track and the bridge lurches up slightly, relieved to have the heavy weight off its back. The cars jump up and down with delight, all glad to be away from the fearful bridge. Jose scratches his nose and turns over to shield his eyes from the wind.

Out of nothingness they arrive at the busy mining camp. Hundreds of men are running back and forth with materials and shovels. Smoke rises from the company house and also from the mess hall. Peppy gently screws down the brakes as El Burrito belches up smoke and crawls to a halt at the station.

Pedro jumps down into the dust and skips across the track to the tiny depot. His orders are punched on to a stick so he jerks them off and reads where the empties go. Jose and German jump off the flat and walk toward the mine office. They will probably pull watch tonight so they’ll find a place to sleep the rest of the afternoon. Peppy has fallen asleep in the cab.

With a shout and a wave to Peppy the locomotive lurches forward and they move down to the track on the far side of the tipple where they leave the cars. Using a rag, Pedro carefully pulls the hot pin that links the cars to the enginer. The men are done for the day as there is nothing ready to leave yet so Pedro and Peppy put El Burrito to bed for the night and stroll to the mess hall for some beans and tortillas. There is always a poker game at the mine and a few pesos to spare…and tequila!

Tomorrow, they take silver down to Madimi…and you need a good night’s sleep if you are going to be shot at.