No 
one can follow the action of a gunfight when it
starts. Traditionally they last only a matter of seconds. This
was an exception even for that. I honestly can't say what the bad
guys were doing as my eyes and camera were glued to the Marshal.
In somewhere around 1/2 to 3/4s of a second John Goodmore drew
from a cross draw holster set to the front, and fired 4 .45
caliber blanks from a single shot pistol. This translates to over
120 rounds a minute, an impressive speed for any automatic weapon
of that caliber. This man was the fastest multi-fire draw I had
ever witnessed. Immediately afterwards there was an instant
resurrection of banditos and an autograph and photo opportunity.
Before long the whistle blew and it was "all-abroad".
The train is a vintage model of the old steam or diesel type
which offers 5 different levels of travel ranging from the coach
class aboard an authentically restored 1923 Harriman coach to the
Coconino Dome class which features a panoramic view from an upper
oval glass enclosed observation area. Refreshments are available
in each class as is befitting that station of travel. The final
offering in the top class is a glass of Champagne to finalize the
return trip. After reviewing each class, we settled down in the
dome, to watch the pronghorn antelope dance along the prairie in
retreat of the train, even a Bobcat chose to lope across the
plains in retreat of the great monster that 
lumbered down
the track at some 40 miles an hour. Josh, who was the steward for
the dome car, continually updated us as to this thing or that as
we plodded by valley and hill.
I have never been in a train wreck and hope to never be, but for
those who have, I can relate that the first thing you notice is
the high pitch screech of steel sliding on steel as the emergency
system slams into action and the train is "brought
down". The second sensation is being thrown forward in your
seat as inertia takes its effect. Added to this was the
simultaneous sounding over the public address system throughout
the train. "EMERGENCY -- EMERGENCY" blared in every car
as we grabbed for the seat in front of us without thinking. There
was no collision, no overturned cars, nor smashing of glass or
twisting of rail. We quickly stopped and settled back into our
seats. The expression on Josh's face was anything but smiles as
he stared out the dome toward the engine somewhere just around
the corner. Finally the woman in the far right seat exclaimed
"I see it, there's a car on the tracks!" Some 20
minutes later, we were off and running again and it would not be
until we actually reached the Canyon that we would hear the
details from an "informed passenger?" It seems that an
"Islander", possibly a Jamaican who was touring the
area got lost on a dirt road, and coming upon the railroad tracks
decided to use them to turn around, subsequently getting stuck on
the tracks. The crossing is somewhat near an curve and so the
engineer had little warning and when seeing the car sitting on
the tracks as if it were a train, slammed on the emergency brakes
and laid on the horn. Having successfully brought the train to a
stop, short of a collision, it was necessary to literally pick up
the small compact and move it off the track. The only employees
available for such a task were the dozen or so
"desperado" actors aboard, who were to rob the train at
a later time. They were quickly hustled forward and physically
picked up and carried off the compact, placing it back on the
side road. It was reported that the driver said "When I saw
the train coming down on me, mon, I thought I was dead. When I
saw all those banditos with their big guns coming at me, I knew I
was dead. America - it is a dangerous place mon." I'd like
to be in Kingston when that story is told. The old West is alive
and well. We were now chugging along as normal. When we weren't
wandering down the passageway to the stairs and down to the
buffet type snack table, we were listening to the campfire tunes
sung by Brian Sheen, as he accompanied himself on guitar. As he
passed from coach to coach he entertained all with that western flair
of music that is so traditional. Shortly we pulled into the Grand
Canyon Depot and exited to the South rim of the Grand Canyon, and
what an adventure that was,
Having spent an enjoyable afternoon at the Canyon, it was time
for the return adventure. This was the time for Champagne and
more snacks. We road quietly for about an hour while we got to
know those who were sitting around us. A few minutes before we
reached the Williams Station the train, which had slowed to
around 15 miles an hour began blowing its horn. Suddenly,
up along the side of the coach came masked banditos, riding fast
and blazing away with six guns at the cars
they were passing. In
real life, this looks just like the movies, the horses were
stretched out for all they were worth, Gunslingers bent in the
saddle, wind whipping around their bandanas. Our coach guide
calmly announced that the train was being robbed, and sure enough
within a few minutes Bad Barge was slithering down the isle,
pistol in hand and a gleam in his eyes. When he caught sight of
pretty 29 year old Jennifer Sabe of Phoenix, the sneer on his
face turned to a crooked smile. He was just about to make his
move on this poor defenseless creature, when from the back of the
coach came a booming voice. "Barge"! We all turned 
to
see slow walking, slow talking big bad John, pistol in hand and
fire in his eye. The fear in Barge's face was evident by the twitching of his lip and
the shaking of his gun hand. He submitted, with out resistance,
to the demands of the old time Marshall, placing himself under
arrest and removing his carcass from the coach. Marshal John
stayed around long enough to comfort the distressed damsel and of
course get his picture taken one more time. This was the end of
the trip and what a trip it was. I'll put it high on my list of
must see items.
*** THE END ***
