The speed of the mixed train probably did not exceed 20 mph. Once we reached the summit of White Pass, there was not much for the brakeman to do. So he and I sat down on the rear platform of #268, his legs dangling on one side of the coupler and mine on the other, and he told me about his experiences living and working in Alaska and the North- as the high country of the North receded before us, no sign of human presence as far as you could see except for two rails narrowly spaced pointing into the far distance, the archetypal clicking of the wheels on the rail joints like music.
I was young then, but wise enough to listen.
Perhaps my favorite photo of all these years: