Phantom Trains
By Joseph A. Citro
In the realm of unusual ghosts, I have often pondered the widely reported phenomenon of “Ghost Trains.” How exactly can something as big, heavy, smelly, and presumably soulless as a railroad train produce a ghost?
Although the notion is more than vexing, the accumulation of stories is evidence of a sort. The most famous example is the nine-car train that transported President Lincoln’s body from Washington, D.C., to Springfield, Illinois after his 1865 assassination. Since then, Lincoln’s “Ghost Train” has been spotted all along the way. Witnesses near the tracks say they feel a cold rush of air and soon an old-fashioned train appears and soundlessly passes.
Though Mr. Lincoln’s Ghost Train may not have stopped in Vermont, it is worth mentioning that our state has at least a couple of Phantom Train accounts that require further investigation. I know of two; please let me know if you’re aware of others.
Track 1
Sometime in the late 1990s, two men, father and son, were heading home, traveling along the sparsely populated section of Route 12 between Worcester village and Lake Elmore. It was a dark, bitterly cold January night, around twenty below.
The son told me, “A couple miles outside of Worcester village, we heard a very peculiar sound. It was the sound of an approaching locomotive.” It was so loud, he said, that they could hear it in their moving car with the windows rolled up and the heater blasting.
It was also peculiar, the witness explained, “Because this section of Route 12 is in a fairly mountainous area that hugs the Worcester Range and leads up to the hills of Elmore.”
After that, the highway plunges into a five-mile stretch of wilderness with nothing around but dense forest. There had never been any train tracks within miles of Worcester. The closest were probably in Montpelier, a good ten miles away. Or maybe over the mountains in Waterbury, a fair distance beyond.
Intrigued and puzzled, they pulled over and rolled down the windows. “We heard the sound as plainly as if we were in a station. We heard the phantom train approaching, and it got louder as it did. It seemed to pass us in the dark, and we heard it die away in the distance.”
Track 2
At a writers' conference a decade or so ago, I met a fellow scribe who lived in Chittenden. He seemed quite interested in my work collecting Vermont’s legends and lore. We had a wonderful chat about the mysterious things of this world and the next.
Now, if you’ve dipped into my books, you know that anything can happen in the especially enigmatic town of Chittenden, from the world-famous Eddy séances to vanishing staircases in solid rock, to dramatic Bigfoot sightings.
My companion was kind enough to share some information regarding another local anomaly, one I had never where no train should be. From what little he could tell me, the resemblance to account number 1, above, is remarkable: the distinct sounds of a railroad train in a tree-thick wilderness. heard about: A Ghost Train. The unmistakable chugging of the engine and the sound of a steam whistle were heard but not seen in the thick woodland outside of town – a place
As in the first story, there were no train tracks anywhere around, but with one minor difference: years before, plans were in place to install a rail line in the approximate location the phantom train was heard.
So, what are we to make of stories of this sort? Eavesdropping into the future? A memory of an unfulfilled past? A palpable real-world echo from a great distance away, measured in miles or in time?
Who knows? But I think there is a lot more to learn about The Chittenden Ghost Train and its counterpart in the Worcester Range.
As a certain Mr. Wilkins said about the Haunted Clock that we’ll hear about in a future installment: “I leave the mystery for others to solve, for I know that the above are simple facts without any coloring.”
Joseph A. Citro is a Vermont author and folklorist known for collecting New England’s ghost stories, legends, and strange-but-true lore. His most recent book is The Vermont Ghost Experience, available at local bookstores or wherever books are sold. You can also ask your local library to order it for your enjoyment and the enjoyment of other library patrons. In Passing Strange, Citro shares folklore with a curious eye, a storyteller’s warmth, and just enough mystery to make you look twice on the ride home.