High in the rugged San Juan Mountains of Colorado, where the rails of the Denver & Rio Grande Railroad once dramatically traversed the formidable Marshall Pass at elevations soaring above 12,000 feet, a chilling legend endures. This is the tale of the phantom train of Marshall Pass, a spectral encounter that left an indelible mark on an experienced engineer and became a classic piece of Western folklore.
It was soon after the challenging tracks were laid across Marshall Pass that Engineer Nelson Edwards was assigned to the route. For several months, he had navigated the perilous mountain passes with passengers in tow, always without incident. However, one particular night, as he embarked on the ascent to the divide, an eerie stillness permeated the air. The canyon seemed darker, the silence deeper, and the frosty air carried an unusual chill that hinted at foreboding events to come.
The Ominous Journey Begins
Edwards commenced his long climb with a sense of unease. Earlier that morning, reports of a defective rail and an unsafe bridge had reached the crew, adding to his already burgeoning apprehension. As his locomotive emerged from the first series of protective snowsheds, an unsettling whistle pierced the cold, thin air, echoing strangely among the icy peaks and rugged rock formations. Simultaneously, the gong in his cab clanged, startling him into action. Instinctively, he applied the brakes, bringing the heavy train to a halt.
The conductor, rushing forward, demanded, “What did you stop for?” Edwards, equally bewildered, countered, “Why did you signal to stop?” The conductor’s response sent a shiver down Edwards’s spine: “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.”
A Desperate Race Across the Divide
With a surge of adrenaline, Edwards yanked the lever wide open and desperately sanded the track, compelling the massive train to regain momentum. Yet, the phantom whistles behind them grew undeniably nearer, sounding increasingly like desperate danger signals. Rounding a sharp curve, Edwards glanced back, his heart pounding, and saw a train tearing after them at a terrifying speed. The trailing locomotive was moving at a pace that threatened an inevitable collision with the rear of his own train if he didn’t act swiftly and decisively. A cold sweat broke out on his brow as he pulled the throttle even wider, causing the engine to lunge violently into a snowbank.
The cars lurched precariously, but the heavy snow was dramatically flung aside, and the train roared through another snowshed. This was the precise location where the defective rail had been reported, but a far greater, more immediate danger was pressing relentlessly from behind. The fireman, fueled by panic and necessity, furiously piled coal into the firebox until his clothes were soaked with perspiration, and fire belched spectacularly from the smoke-stack. Inside the passenger cars, occupants who had been warned of their dire peril dressed quickly and anxiously peered out of the windows, whispers circulating among them that a mad engineer was relentlessly driving the train pursuing them.
The Phantom’s Pursuit and a Miraculous Escape
As Edwards finally crossed the summit of Marshall Pass, he cut off the steam, surrendering his train to the formidable force of gravity. Looking back into the faint, fresh light of the new snow, he could discern that the driving wheels on the pursuing engine were notably larger than his own. More disturbingly, a tall, shadowy figure stood atop the phantom cars, gesturing frantically. At a particularly sharp turn in the track, the gap between the two trains had horrifyingly closed to just 200 yards. As Edwards swept around the curve, the engineer of the chasing train leaned from his window, a ghastly, dough-like face contorted in a chilling laugh.
Snow was falling steadily, beginning to drift ominously in the hollows, but the trains flew onward relentlessly. Bridges shook violently as they thundered across them, the wind screamed through the ears of the terrified passengers. The suspected bridge, known for its instability, was reached, and Edwards’s heart leaped into his throat as his train seemed to clear the chasm in a single, desperate bound. The switch was now in sight, but No. 19, the train they were meant to meet, was conspicuously absent. As the brakes were reluctantly freed, Edwards’s train shot past like a flash. Suddenly, a pulsating red light materialized ahead, swinging erratically to and fro on the track. He heard the piercing yelp of the pursuing locomotive’s whistle close behind him, yet with a desperate resolve, he reversed the lever and slammed on the brakes, enduring a few agonizing seconds in a hellish state of dread.
The Vanishing Act and a Haunting Message
When silence finally descended, Edwards glanced back, the absence of sound almost as unnerving as the preceding chaos. He saw the wild train, seemingly about to leap upon his own. But just before impact, the track ahead of the phantom locomotive appeared to mysteriously spread apart. The engine toppled from the embankment, and the entire train rolled into the dark canyon below, vanishing utterly from sight. Edwards shuddered, listening intently. No cries of injured men, no hiss of escaping steam ascended from the depths below—nothing but the mournful groan of the wind as it rolled through the black abyss. The mysterious lantern ahead had also disappeared, leaving him in an unsettling void.
Another danger now loomed: No. 19 might be on its way, and he had no time to linger if he was to reach the second switch before it moved out. The mad, desperate run was resumed, and the second switch was reached just in time. As Edwards was completing his run to Green River, which he astonishingly reached in the morning ahead of schedule, he discovered a chilling message etched into the frost of his cab window:
“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.”
The Enduring Mystery of Marshall Pass
True to the ominous warning, Nelson Edwards quit the railroad that very morning. He returned to Denver and found employment with the Union Pacific, forever leaving the haunted tracks of Marshall Pass behind. The next day, no wreck was discovered in the canyon where he had witnessed the phantom train’s demise, nor has this spectral express been reported in pursuit of any other engineer who has dared to cross the divide since that fateful night. Charles M. Skinner, the renowned folklorist, first documented this spine-tingling account in his 1896 work, Myths and Legends of Our Own Land, ensuring its place in the annals of American ghost stories.
The legend of the phantom train of Marshall Pass remains a compelling piece of Colorado’s rich history and folklore. It speaks to the dangers and isolation faced by early railroad engineers, whose lives were often on the line, and whose experiences sometimes blurred the lines between reality and the supernatural. Whether a true ghostly encounter or a vivid manifestation of the pressures and fears of the rail, the story continues to captivate, reminding us that some mysteries are destined to endure, forever woven into the fabric of the landscape and the legends passed down through generations. This tale serves as a powerful testament to the wild, untamed spirit of the Old West and the eerie, unexplained phenomena that often accompany human endeavor in untamed territories.
