Mandalay to Myitkyina

by Neil Harris

The timetable, such as it was, suggested the trip would take around 24 hours. This proved rather optimistic, as was the name on the side of our carriage 'Upper Class Sleeper'. Upper compared to what?

The line north from Mandalay is single track narrow gauge, allegedly one metre wide. Those familiar with these two constraints will know that progress will be 'shaky' and potentially stopped by any obstruction of the line. Both of these would apply.

Lake Padu

The train edged out of the station soon after 1pm. The line goes south out of Mandalay through the rather shabby suburbs, then west across the Irrawaddy River before looping northwards towards Lake Padu, well actually through Lake Padu. The lake, post-monsoon, lapped the rails such that the sleepers were under water, the rail at one point becoming half submerged. I hadn't expected a boat train! Floating through a lake on a train is a rather surreal experience. After a hour or so the sleepers shook off the lake, the cue for the hawkers to emerge.

We pulled into a small unidentified halt; the only sign was in unintelligible Burmese script; to be assaulted by various vendors plying their wares along the narrow gap between rail and lake. The offerings were largely lake based; fresh water shrimps for instance; the sellers rather laid back. There was even a water taxi to take passengers to onward destinations. A co-ordinated transport system!
We continued northwards towards dusk, the waters of the lake melting away to pasture and paddy fields. A spectacular sunset led into the night. The lack of on-train lighting left options for entertainment limited and with alcoholic supplies at a minimum, a very early night beckoned. The carriage contained four bunks, my bed was to be an upper berth. As the train gained speed, so did the wobble factor (see shaky above).

This varied. A sideways sway became a roll; think force 6 on the Solent. Being over 6 foot I could wedge myself between the walls. Jim in the bunk opposite, being shorter, slid backwards and forwards across his bunk with the swishing sound of trousers sliding across plastic leather. Rather amusing; to me anyway. The more alarming and certainly more dangerous wobble, thankfully only rarely, was the rodeo ride. A sort of bucking bronco movement where one was thrown skywards off the bunk, perhaps 2-3 inches in the air, the landing cushioned by the thin foam mattress. Again rather amusing in a perverse way. I took to wondering if my insurance covered death by derailment. Sounds like an Agatha Christie novel.

The morning dawned misty, our overnight journey having lifted us into the highlands. The first stop was Indaw. Vendors swooped again, the best on offer being solid teak collapsible tables; a snip at $3. If only the weight allowance on my flights was nearer 50 kilos than 20.
Our next station stop was Mawlu. The twin lines here indicated a passing point. The word on the track was that we'd be here awhile; little did we know awhile would be 5 hours. After wandering around for a look see, we returned to our carriage in case the train left; some chance. An audience of children assembled outside the window to watch the weird farang; a rare sight, apparently, in these parts. The fly in the ointment of progress was that the south bound train had broken down to the north of Mawlu. We were going nowhere until it was mobile again. A retinue of mechanics sped north on a contraption that clung to the spare line, hope of movement heightened.

The offending south bound train eventually arrived into the station at around 3pm, soon after a hoot on the whistle indicated our imminent departure.

The late afternoon sunshine lit up the countryside with a pleasing golden glow. I sat on a plastic stool in the corridor to admire the scene. As the train swept around a right-hand curve I noticed a hawker, complete with wares, walking along the roof close to the front of the train. A whole new meaning to the job description of travelling salesman!

We should have arrived at our destination at around 1pm. As night fell another bucking bronco ride ensued, the train was making up for lost time. How nice! We trundled into Myitkyina towards midnight thankful that the journey was over, but knowing it was one I would not have missed, but one I never want to repeat.

First published in VISA issue 73 (June 2007)