The Phantom Train of Marshall Pass, Colorado

The rugged landscape of the Colorado Rockies has long been a fertile ground for tales of the strange and unexplained. Among the most enduring of these is the legend of The Phantom Train of Marshall Pass, Colorado, a spectral locomotive said to haunt the stretch of railway that once traversed this formidable mountain pass. This narrative, steeped in the atmosphere of late 19th-century railroading, speaks of a terrifying encounter, a desperate race against an unseen foe, and a chilling premonition of disaster.

The story, popularized by Charles M. Skinner in his 1896 collection Myths and Legends of Our Own Land, centers around an experienced engineer named Nelson Edwards, who was assigned to a passenger train shortly after the Denver and Rio Grande Railroad laid its tracks across Marshall Pass. This daunting route, reaching elevations of nearly 12,000 feet, presented numerous challenges to those who dared to navigate its steep grades and treacherous curves.

Edwards, a seasoned veteran of the rails, had been running the route for a couple of months without incident. However, one particular night, a sense of unease settled upon him as he prepared for his journey. The silence seemed more profound, the canyons darker, and the air carried an unusual bite of frost. Compounding his apprehension were reports of a defective rail and an unsafe bridge further along the line. With a knot of anxiety tightening in his stomach, Edwards began the arduous ascent.

As his train emerged from the first line of snowsheds, a piercing whistle echoed through the icy landscape. Simultaneously, the gong in his cab clanged, signaling an emergency stop. Edwards immediately applied the brakes, bringing the heavy train to a screeching halt. The conductor, visibly puzzled, rushed to the cab, questioning the sudden stop.

"What did you stop for?" he demanded.

Edwards, equally bewildered, countered, "Why did you signal to stop?"

The conductor denied issuing any signal. "I gave no signal. Pull her open and light out, for we’ve got to pass No. 19 at the switches, and there’s a wild train climbing behind us!"

Edwards, now thoroughly alarmed, released the brakes and sanded the track, urging the locomotive forward. But the chilling whistles behind them grew louder, closer, sounding an unmistakable warning of impending danger. Rounding a curve, Edwards glanced back and saw a train barreling towards them at an alarming speed, threatening to collide with their rear cars.

Fear gripped Edwards as he jammed the throttle wide open, desperately trying to outrun the pursuing locomotive. The fireman, understanding the gravity of the situation, shoveled coal into the furnace with frenzied energy, pushing the engine to its absolute limit. The passengers, alerted to the peril, dressed hurriedly and peered anxiously out the windows, whispers spreading among them of a "mad engineer" driving the pursuing train.

As Edwards’s train crested the summit of Marshall Pass, he cut off the steam, surrendering to the force of gravity for a brief respite. Looking back, the faint light reflecting off the new snow revealed a horrifying sight. The driving wheels of the pursuing engine appeared larger than his own, and a tall, shadowy figure stood atop the cars, gesturing wildly. At a sharp turn in the track, the pursuing train was a mere 200 yards behind. As Edwards navigated the curve, he caught a glimpse of the other engineer, who leaned from his window and laughed, his face described as "like dough," a chilling detail that adds to the supernatural feel of the story.

Snow began to fall, quickly accumulating in the hollows, but both trains continued their reckless race. Bridges groaned and shook as they thundered across them, and the wind screamed past the ears of the terrified passengers. The dreaded bridge, the one rumored to be unsafe, loomed ahead. Edwards held his breath, his heart pounding in his chest, and somehow, miraculously, they cleared the chasm.

The switch was now in sight, but Number 19, the train they were supposed to meet, was nowhere to be seen. As the brakes were released, Edwards’s train shot past the switch like a fleeting shadow. Suddenly, a red light appeared ahead, swinging ominously back and forth on the track. It seemed as though they were not only being chased from behind but were also being lured into a trap. Edwards heard the pursuing locomotive’s whistle shriek behind him. He reversed the lever, slammed on the brakes, and braced for the inevitable impact.

But then, silence.

Edwards cautiously glanced back. The wild train was almost upon them, seemingly poised to leap onto his own. But at the last possible moment, the track appeared to spread apart. The engine toppled from the embankment, and the entire train plunged into the canyon below, vanishing into the darkness.

Edwards shuddered, listening intently. No sound emerged from the abyss – no cries of injured men, no hiss of escaping steam. Only the mournful groan of the wind remained, echoing through the black depths. The red lantern ahead had also disappeared.

Knowing that Number 19 might be approaching, Edwards resumed his desperate run. He reached the second switch just in time and continued his journey to Green River, arriving well ahead of schedule the next morning. However, a chilling message awaited him. Scrawled in the frost on his cab window were the words:

"A frate train was recked as yu saw. Now that yu saw it yu will never make another run. The engine was not under control, and four sexshun men wor killed. If yu ever run on this road again, yu will be recked."

Edwards, understandably shaken to his core, immediately quit his job. He returned to Denver and found work with the Union Pacific. According to the legend, no wreck was ever discovered in the canyon where Edwards had witnessed the disaster. And, to this day, The Phantom Train of Marshall Pass, Colorado has not been seen in pursuit of any other engineer who has dared to cross the divide.

The legend of The Phantom Train of Marshall Pass, Colorado is more than just a ghost story; it’s a reflection of the harsh realities and inherent dangers of early railroading in the American West. It speaks to the isolation, the unforgiving terrain, and the constant threat of accidents that plagued those who worked to connect the nation by rail. The story’s enduring appeal lies in its ability to evoke a sense of mystery and dread, reminding us of the unseen forces that may lie just beyond our perception.

The tale is filled with vivid imagery: the echoing whistles, the frantic shoveling of coal, the terrified faces of the passengers, and the chilling laughter of the dough-faced engineer. These details, combined with the story’s ambiguous ending, leave the reader questioning what Edwards truly experienced. Was it a hallucination brought on by fatigue and stress? Was it a premonition of a future disaster? Or was it, as the legend suggests, a glimpse into the spectral realm?

Whatever the explanation, The Phantom Train of Marshall Pass, Colorado remains a captivating piece of Colorado folklore, a reminder of the bravery, the hardship, and the enduring mysteries of the American West. The legend serves as a chilling testament to the power of the mountains and the enduring spirit of those who dared to conquer them.