WEBVTT 1 00:00:00.080 --> 00:00:05.839 You train through autumn countryside. This is a long journey. 2 00:00:06.759 --> 00:00:10.480 We'll spend some time on a peaceful train ride through 3 00:00:10.519 --> 00:00:16.199 beautiful autumn landscapes. There's no destination we need to reach, 4 00:00:16.559 --> 00:00:20.800 no schedule to keep, just the gentle rhythm of the train, 5 00:00:21.160 --> 00:00:25.800 the changing views outside the window, and all the time 6 00:00:25.920 --> 00:00:31.640 in the world to simply be get comfortable, very comfortable. 7 00:00:32.079 --> 00:00:34.520 You won't need to move for a while. Close your 8 00:00:34.520 --> 00:00:38.520 eyes if you'd like, take a deep breath in, hold 9 00:00:38.560 --> 00:00:43.920 it gently, and let it out slowly. Let's begin. It's 10 00:00:43.960 --> 00:00:47.600 a Wednesday morning in mid October and you're standing on 11 00:00:47.679 --> 00:00:52.320 a small railway platform in the countryside. The platform is simple, 12 00:00:52.840 --> 00:00:56.280 just a strip of weathered concrete with a wooden shelter 13 00:00:56.759 --> 00:01:00.880 at one end and a bench. That's I've seen many 14 00:01:01.079 --> 00:01:08.319 years of travelers waiting just as you're waiting now. The 15 00:01:08.439 --> 00:01:12.319 morning is cool and clear. The air has that particular 16 00:01:12.439 --> 00:01:17.840 quality of autumn mornings, crisp without being cold, fresh without 17 00:01:17.920 --> 00:01:22.480 being harsh. You can see your breath just barely when 18 00:01:22.519 --> 00:01:27.640 you exhale, but it's not uncomfortable. You're wearing layers, a 19 00:01:27.840 --> 00:01:32.879 soft sweater under a jacket, and you feel perfectly warm. 20 00:01:33.599 --> 00:01:38.560 The platform is quiet. There are only two other people waiting, 21 00:01:39.120 --> 00:01:42.640 an elderly man reading a newspaper at the fore end, 22 00:01:43.159 --> 00:01:46.319 and a middle aged woman with a worn leader bag 23 00:01:46.400 --> 00:01:50.480 sitting on the bench. No one is talking. There's no 24 00:01:50.599 --> 00:01:57.879 need for conversation. Everyone here understands that this early morning 25 00:01:58.040 --> 00:02:02.359 hour is for quiet. You can hear birds in the 26 00:02:02.439 --> 00:02:06.640 trees beyond the platform, the liquid song of a robin, 27 00:02:07.280 --> 00:02:10.879 the chattering of sparrows, the distant core of a crow. 28 00:02:11.840 --> 00:02:15.560 You can hear the rustle of leaves in the slight breeze. 29 00:02:16.120 --> 00:02:22.439 Autumn leaves mostly fallen, now skittering across the platform with 30 00:02:22.599 --> 00:02:27.319 a papery whisper. The trees surrounding the platform are in 31 00:02:27.400 --> 00:02:31.919 full autumn color. There are oaks with leaves gorne, bronze 32 00:02:31.960 --> 00:02:35.680 and rust. There are maples in shades of orange and 33 00:02:35.840 --> 00:02:40.000 red and yellow, some so bright they almost seem to 34 00:02:40.039 --> 00:02:45.080 glow in the morning sun. There are birches with leaves 35 00:02:45.439 --> 00:02:50.599 like scattered gold coins, trembling in the breeze. You've been 36 00:02:50.680 --> 00:02:54.560 looking forward to this for weeks, a day long train 37 00:02:54.719 --> 00:02:59.319 journey through the countryside, taking the old scenic root that 38 00:02:59.479 --> 00:03:04.240 the force trains don't use anymore, the slow train, the 39 00:03:04.319 --> 00:03:08.680 local train, the train that stops at every small station, 40 00:03:09.680 --> 00:03:14.759 that winds through valleys and are long river, that takes 41 00:03:14.919 --> 00:03:19.759 its time because time is all it has. You have 42 00:03:19.879 --> 00:03:24.919 no particular destination. You bought a day pourse that allows 43 00:03:24.960 --> 00:03:27.879 you to ride as long as you want, get off 44 00:03:27.919 --> 00:03:31.960 where you like, get back on the next train, but 45 00:03:32.120 --> 00:03:35.599 you think you'll probably stay on for the whole route. 46 00:03:36.520 --> 00:03:42.800 Eight hours of gentle travel through autumn landscapes, eight hours 47 00:03:42.840 --> 00:03:47.800 of watching the world go by, eight hours of peaceful, 48 00:03:48.439 --> 00:03:53.479 meditative movement. In your bag, you have a book, though 49 00:03:53.520 --> 00:03:57.280 you suspect you won't read much. You have a bottle 50 00:03:57.319 --> 00:04:00.800 of water and some simple food as sad which an 51 00:04:00.879 --> 00:04:05.960 apple some natist. You have a notebook, though you don't 52 00:04:06.039 --> 00:04:13.080 know what you might write. Mostly you have time, unscheduled, unstructured, 53 00:04:13.479 --> 00:04:17.279 open time. You hear the train before you see it, 54 00:04:17.759 --> 00:04:21.560 a distant rumble, the faint clank of wheels on rails. 55 00:04:22.199 --> 00:04:26.680 Then it comes into view around the bend, moving slowly, unhurried. 56 00:04:27.319 --> 00:04:31.439 It's an older train, not sleek or modern, but solid 57 00:04:31.959 --> 00:04:37.879 and reliable and somehow comforting in its old fashioned design. 58 00:04:38.839 --> 00:04:42.439 The train pulls into the station with a gentle squeal 59 00:04:42.480 --> 00:04:45.800 of brakes and comes to a stop with a sigh, 60 00:04:46.399 --> 00:04:50.319 as if settling in after a long journey. The doors 61 00:04:50.439 --> 00:04:54.800 open with a hydraulic hiss. You board, climbing the few 62 00:04:54.839 --> 00:04:59.319 steps into the carriage. Inside, it's warm and smells faintly 63 00:04:59.360 --> 00:05:04.839 off older wholstery and metal, and something like lemon cleaning solution. 64 00:05:05.839 --> 00:05:10.040 The carriage is about off full, a dozen people scattered 65 00:05:10.199 --> 00:05:15.399 among the rows of seats, most of them sitting alone, 66 00:05:15.959 --> 00:05:21.360 looking out windows or reading, or simply staring into space. 67 00:05:22.800 --> 00:05:26.439 You choose a window seat about halfway down the carriage 68 00:05:26.560 --> 00:05:29.720 on the right side. You stow your back on the 69 00:05:29.839 --> 00:05:34.800 overhead rack and settle into your seat. The seat is comfortable, 70 00:05:35.120 --> 00:05:39.879 worn but well patted, upholstered in a faded blue fabric. 71 00:05:41.000 --> 00:05:46.000 The window is large and clean, offering a perfect view 72 00:05:46.120 --> 00:05:52.920 of the world outside. The doors close, there's a gentle lurge, 73 00:05:53.319 --> 00:05:57.680 and the train begins to move. At first, you are 74 00:05:57.759 --> 00:06:02.639 still among buildings, the small station, a few houses, a 75 00:06:02.800 --> 00:06:07.920 road running parallel to the tracks, But within minutes the 76 00:06:07.959 --> 00:06:12.519 buildings fall away and you're in open countryside. The train 77 00:06:12.639 --> 00:06:16.240 moves slowly, much slower than a gore would move on 78 00:06:16.319 --> 00:06:20.959 a highway, slow enough that you can see everything. Every tree, 79 00:06:21.160 --> 00:06:25.399 every fence post, every bird in the fields. Slow enough 80 00:06:25.439 --> 00:06:31.560 that the movement feels gentle, rocking, almost soothing. The rhythm 81 00:06:31.639 --> 00:06:36.879 of the train is hypnotic, the steady cluck clap of 82 00:06:36.920 --> 00:06:41.160 wheels on rails, the occasional sway and rock as the 83 00:06:41.240 --> 00:06:46.040 train rounds a curve. The vibration that you can feel 84 00:06:46.199 --> 00:06:52.040 through your seat, through your whole body, not unpleasant, just 85 00:06:52.480 --> 00:07:00.279 present a reminder that you're moving, traveling, going somewhere, even 86 00:07:00.360 --> 00:07:05.879 though the destination doesn't matter. The landscape outside your window 87 00:07:05.959 --> 00:07:11.000 is beautiful in that particular way of autumn countryside. Everything 88 00:07:11.120 --> 00:07:16.120 is touched with gold. The fields are golden with harvested 89 00:07:17.120 --> 00:07:23.240 grain stubble, The trees are golden with turning leaves. Even 90 00:07:23.319 --> 00:07:27.920 the gross seems to have a golden course to it. 91 00:07:28.199 --> 00:07:32.600 In the morning sunlight, you posse a field of cows, 92 00:07:32.879 --> 00:07:37.519 brown and white dairy cows, grazing peacefully. A few of 93 00:07:37.560 --> 00:07:41.680 them look up as the train passes, mild curiosity in 94 00:07:41.759 --> 00:07:46.120 their large dog eyes, but most ignore the train entirely. 95 00:07:46.879 --> 00:07:52.319 They've seen trains before. Trains are just poured off the landscape, 96 00:07:52.839 --> 00:07:57.000 just another element of their wall. Beyond the cows, you 97 00:07:57.120 --> 00:08:01.519 see a farmhouse, an old stone building with a slate 98 00:08:01.680 --> 00:08:06.199 roof and smoke rising from its chimney. There's a garden 99 00:08:06.279 --> 00:08:10.160 beside it, mostly done for the season now, but you 100 00:08:10.240 --> 00:08:14.000 can see the meat rows where vegetables grew, and the 101 00:08:14.079 --> 00:08:20.199 tall brown stalks of what were probably sunflowers. There's washing 102 00:08:20.519 --> 00:08:24.959 hanging on a line, white sheets and towels moving gently 103 00:08:25.079 --> 00:08:29.240 in the breeze. You wonder about the people who live there. 104 00:08:30.000 --> 00:08:34.000 What are they doing this Wednesday morning, making breakfast perhaps, 105 00:08:34.679 --> 00:08:38.360 or sitting at a kitchen table with tea, or out 106 00:08:38.519 --> 00:08:42.799 doing chores in the barn. You'll never know. You're just 107 00:08:42.960 --> 00:08:49.440 pausing through a temperary observer of their landscape. The train 108 00:08:49.559 --> 00:08:52.480 follows a river. Now you can see it through the 109 00:08:52.600 --> 00:08:57.399 trees to your left, a broad, shallow river moving slowly 110 00:08:57.519 --> 00:09:02.159 over stones. The water touches the sunlight and throws it 111 00:09:02.279 --> 00:09:08.240 back in flashes of brightness. The river banks are lined 112 00:09:08.360 --> 00:09:14.039 with willows, their long trailing branches yellow gold and swaying. 113 00:09:15.279 --> 00:09:19.799 You see a heron standing in the shallows, a gray heron, 114 00:09:20.159 --> 00:09:24.840 perfectly still waiting for fish. The train pauses, and the 115 00:09:24.919 --> 00:09:29.799 heron doesn't move. It's a statue, a piece of the landscape, 116 00:09:29.840 --> 00:09:34.559 patient and eternal, The carriage is warm and quiet. You 117 00:09:34.639 --> 00:09:39.639 can hear the train sounds, the wheels, the occasional creek 118 00:09:39.919 --> 00:09:44.120 of the carriage, the low hum of the heating system. 119 00:09:44.440 --> 00:09:48.320 You can hear a few quiet conversations from other passengers, 120 00:09:48.759 --> 00:09:54.720 but the voices are low and don't intrude. Mostly there's 121 00:09:55.120 --> 00:10:00.639 just the train, the movement, the pausing view. You settle 122 00:10:00.759 --> 00:10:05.720 deeper into your seat, feeling your body relaxed completely. Your 123 00:10:05.759 --> 00:10:11.039 shoulders drop, your jaw unclenches, your breathing slows and deepens. 124 00:10:11.679 --> 00:10:15.240 There's nothing you need to do, nothing you need to 125 00:10:15.320 --> 00:10:22.519 think about, just this, sitting, watching, being carried gently through 126 00:10:22.559 --> 00:10:27.720 the world. The landscape changes gradually. The river curves away, 127 00:10:28.000 --> 00:10:33.080 and you're moving through woodland. Now. The trees press close 128 00:10:33.200 --> 00:10:36.120 on both sides of the track, forming a tunnel of 129 00:10:36.279 --> 00:10:41.519 autumn color. Overhead, the light filtering through the leaves is 130 00:10:41.639 --> 00:10:48.159 golden and dappled, creating patterns that move and shift as 131 00:10:48.200 --> 00:10:54.840 the train passes beneath. It's like traveling through a kaleidoscope 132 00:10:54.879 --> 00:11:00.159 of autumn red leaves, orange leaves, yellow leaves, brown leaves. 133 00:11:00.679 --> 00:11:05.039 Some trees still holding onto most of their foliage, others 134 00:11:05.080 --> 00:11:10.919 already bare their branches, stalk and beautiful against the blue sky. 135 00:11:12.279 --> 00:11:17.600 The fallen leaves corporate the ground in thick layers, and 136 00:11:17.759 --> 00:11:22.159 when the breeze catches them, they swirl up in little 137 00:11:22.240 --> 00:11:27.200 spirals and eddies. You pause a small clearing where someone 138 00:11:27.240 --> 00:11:31.799 has stacked firewood neat cords of split logs, ready for winter. 139 00:11:32.679 --> 00:11:37.159 The sight is somehow reassuring someone has prepared, someone is 140 00:11:37.240 --> 00:11:41.360 ready for the cold months ahead. There's comfort in that 141 00:11:42.080 --> 00:11:46.159 the train emerges from the woodland into more open country. 142 00:11:46.879 --> 00:11:52.039 Now you're passing through rolling hills, gentle slopes covered in 143 00:11:52.159 --> 00:11:57.519 grass that's gorne, golden brown. There are sheeps scattered across 144 00:11:57.559 --> 00:12:06.039 the hills, white dots again the gold. They're grazing, moving slowly, peacefully, 145 00:12:06.879 --> 00:12:12.519 their wooly bodies fat and healthy as they prepare for winter. 146 00:12:13.840 --> 00:12:17.399 A stone wall runs along one hillside, an ancient wall, 147 00:12:17.480 --> 00:12:22.600 built stone by stone by hand, probably centuries ago. It 148 00:12:22.679 --> 00:12:27.360 follows the contours of the land, rising and falling, dividing 149 00:12:27.559 --> 00:12:32.720 one field from another. Moss grows on the stones, small 150 00:12:32.840 --> 00:12:37.200 plants have taken root in the crevices between them. The 151 00:12:37.320 --> 00:12:42.720 wall is falling down in places, but mostly it still stands, 152 00:12:42.759 --> 00:12:47.440 still doing its job, after all these years. The train 153 00:12:47.519 --> 00:12:51.600 comes to a station, a small country station, even quieter 154 00:12:51.720 --> 00:12:55.320 than the one where you boarded. The platform is empty 155 00:12:55.600 --> 00:12:59.080 except for a single bench and a hanging basket of 156 00:12:59.240 --> 00:13:05.799 late season flowers. Petunias you think, still blooming purple and 157 00:13:06.000 --> 00:13:11.120 pink despite the autumn shell. The train stops, The doors open, 158 00:13:11.600 --> 00:13:15.840 no one gets on, no one gets off. After a minute, 159 00:13:15.879 --> 00:13:19.519 the doors close again, and the train moves on. It 160 00:13:19.639 --> 00:13:24.120 seems almost comical they stop at an empty station, but 161 00:13:24.240 --> 00:13:31.080 it's also somehow perfect. The train stops because it's supposed 162 00:13:31.120 --> 00:13:36.440 to stop. The schedule says to stop here, so it stops. 163 00:13:37.559 --> 00:13:41.360 Whether anyone is waiting or not. Is beside a point 164 00:13:41.960 --> 00:13:46.480 you're climbing now. The train is working harder, the sound 165 00:13:46.559 --> 00:13:50.480 of the engine more pronounced. You're heading in the hills, 166 00:13:50.759 --> 00:13:56.639 real hills, the landscape becoming more dramatic. The trees here 167 00:13:56.720 --> 00:14:03.639 are different, more corniferous, mixed with that deciduous trees, dark 168 00:14:03.679 --> 00:14:08.200 green pines and firs standing among the gold and red 169 00:14:08.759 --> 00:14:13.919 of maples and oaks. Through gaps in the trees, you 170 00:14:14.039 --> 00:14:19.240 catch glimpses of views, valleys stretching out below other hills. 171 00:14:19.320 --> 00:14:23.840 In the distance, a patchwork of fields and woodland and 172 00:14:23.919 --> 00:14:27.600 the silver thread of a river winding through it all. 173 00:14:28.399 --> 00:14:31.919 The train rounds a long curve, and suddenly there's a 174 00:14:32.240 --> 00:14:36.879 view that makes you catch your breath. A lake spread 175 00:14:37.000 --> 00:14:41.600 out below in a valley, its surface perfectly still and 176 00:14:41.799 --> 00:14:46.200 mirror like, reflecting the sky and the hills and the 177 00:14:46.360 --> 00:14:52.759 autumn colors. The lake is large, maybe a mile across, 178 00:14:53.399 --> 00:14:58.080 and so still that it looks like glaws. There's a 179 00:14:58.159 --> 00:15:01.440 small island in the middle of the lake, crowned with 180 00:15:01.639 --> 00:15:06.080 trees that are bright yellow. The reflection of the island 181 00:15:06.200 --> 00:15:09.200 in the water is so perfect that you can barely 182 00:15:09.320 --> 00:15:14.559 tell which is real and which is a reflection. It's 183 00:15:14.720 --> 00:15:19.240 like looking at a painting, like something too beautiful to 184 00:15:19.320 --> 00:15:26.360 be real, and yet there it is completely real, completely natural. 185 00:15:28.000 --> 00:15:31.840 The train follows the shore of the lake for several minutes, 186 00:15:32.480 --> 00:15:36.200 and you press close to the window, not wanting to 187 00:15:36.240 --> 00:15:40.200 miss a moment of this view. You see a few 188 00:15:40.320 --> 00:15:44.200 houses along the shore, set back among the trees. You 189 00:15:44.360 --> 00:15:48.960 see a small dog with a rowboat tied to it. 190 00:15:49.840 --> 00:15:54.840 You see ducks paddling near the reeds at the lake's edge, 191 00:15:55.200 --> 00:15:59.200 and then the trees closer in again, and the lake 192 00:15:59.320 --> 00:16:05.720 disappears behind you. Already becoming a memory, something you saw 193 00:16:05.879 --> 00:16:10.600 and will carry with you. The train levels out now, 194 00:16:11.360 --> 00:16:16.200 following a valley floor. There's a village here, the first 195 00:16:16.279 --> 00:16:20.639 real village you've passed through. The train slows as it 196 00:16:20.879 --> 00:16:26.519 approaches the station. The village is picturesque in that way 197 00:16:26.600 --> 00:16:31.919 that English countryside villages often are stone cottages with slate roofs, 198 00:16:32.759 --> 00:16:36.039 a church with a square tower above with a hanging sign, 199 00:16:36.759 --> 00:16:40.600 a village green with a warm memorial, and some old trees. 200 00:16:41.840 --> 00:16:45.919 The train stops at the station, and this time people 201 00:16:46.000 --> 00:16:50.480 do get off. Three or four passengers gather their things 202 00:16:50.600 --> 00:16:55.120 and descend to the platform. You watch them go, wondering 203 00:16:55.240 --> 00:16:59.960 what brings them to this particular village. On this particular 204 00:17:00.159 --> 00:17:05.880 Wednesday morning, a couple of new passengers get on, an 205 00:17:06.000 --> 00:17:10.519 elderly couple, moving slowly, helping each other up the steps. 206 00:17:11.400 --> 00:17:15.319 They settle into seats across the aisle from you. The 207 00:17:15.319 --> 00:17:18.799 man takes the window seat and the woman sits beside him. 208 00:17:19.680 --> 00:17:23.640 They don't speak, but the man reaches over and takes 209 00:17:23.720 --> 00:17:28.799 the woman's hand, and they sit like that, hans clasped, 210 00:17:29.160 --> 00:17:34.680 looking out the window together. There's something deeply touching about 211 00:17:34.680 --> 00:17:39.160 this simple gesture. How long have they been together fifty 212 00:17:39.240 --> 00:17:44.079 years sixty? They move with the ease of long companionship, 213 00:17:44.680 --> 00:17:49.400 each knowing what the other needs without words. And here 214 00:17:49.799 --> 00:17:54.240 they are taking a train ride together on a Wednesday morning, 215 00:17:55.000 --> 00:18:01.039 still finding small pleasures to share. After all these, the 216 00:18:01.119 --> 00:18:06.400 train moves on, leaving the village behind. The landscape opens 217 00:18:06.480 --> 00:18:12.240 up again, more fields, more gentle heels, more of that 218 00:18:12.599 --> 00:18:18.119 endless autumn gold. You realize you're hungry, so you reach 219 00:18:18.240 --> 00:18:21.920 up to the overhead rag and retrieve your bag. You 220 00:18:22.000 --> 00:18:26.039 pull out the sandwich you packed, simple cheese and tomato 221 00:18:26.160 --> 00:18:30.799 on brown bread. You unwrap it, slowly, taking your time. 222 00:18:32.000 --> 00:18:35.880 The first bite tastes wonderful. The bread is fresh and 223 00:18:36.000 --> 00:18:40.319 slightly chewy, the cheese is sharp, the tomato is ripe 224 00:18:40.359 --> 00:18:45.400 and juicy. You eat slowly, savoring each bite, washing it 225 00:18:45.480 --> 00:18:49.480 down with SIPs of water from your bottle. Eating on 226 00:18:49.559 --> 00:18:54.480 a train has its own particular pleasure. The gentle movement 227 00:18:54.799 --> 00:18:59.720 somehow makes everything taste better. Or perhaps it's just the 228 00:18:59.799 --> 00:19:03.440 lack of rush, the fact that you can take as 229 00:19:03.559 --> 00:19:07.000 long as you want, that there's nowhere you need to 230 00:19:07.079 --> 00:19:11.960 be and nothing you need to do except sit here 231 00:19:12.559 --> 00:19:16.799 and eat and watch the world go by. When you 232 00:19:16.880 --> 00:19:21.079 finish your sandwich, you eat the apple you packed. It's 233 00:19:21.119 --> 00:19:24.960 a good apple, crisp and sweet and torn all at once. 234 00:19:25.759 --> 00:19:28.720 The sound of biting into it is loud in the 235 00:19:28.799 --> 00:19:33.200 quiet carriage, but no one seems to mind. You eat 236 00:19:33.240 --> 00:19:37.400 it down to the core. Didn't wrap the core in 237 00:19:37.519 --> 00:19:43.799 your sandwich wrapper to dispose of later. You feel satisfied, 238 00:19:44.279 --> 00:19:50.400 content fit and warm and comfortable, with hours of journey 239 00:19:50.480 --> 00:19:55.319 still ahead of you. The train is following another river, 240 00:19:55.440 --> 00:20:00.880 now a different river, smaller and faster than the first one. 241 00:20:00.920 --> 00:20:05.680 This river tumbles over rocks, creating white water in places 242 00:20:05.799 --> 00:20:10.640 rushing and energetic. The bunks are steep and lined with 243 00:20:10.839 --> 00:20:16.039 trees that lean out over the water, their branches nearly 244 00:20:16.200 --> 00:20:21.359 touching the surface. You see a fisherman standing in the river, 245 00:20:21.960 --> 00:20:25.799 wearing waders that come up to his chest, a fishing 246 00:20:25.920 --> 00:20:30.799 rod in his hands, perfectly still as he watches his line. 247 00:20:31.519 --> 00:20:35.200 He doesn't look up as the train passes. He's absorbed 248 00:20:35.279 --> 00:20:41.079 in his own quiet activity, in his own relationship with 249 00:20:41.119 --> 00:20:45.920 the water and the fish and the autumn morning. The 250 00:20:46.079 --> 00:20:50.079 train climbs again, switchbacking up the side of a valley, 251 00:20:50.640 --> 00:20:55.319 the river falling away below the track. Here clings to 252 00:20:55.440 --> 00:20:59.720 the hillside with a slope rising steeply on one side 253 00:21:00.039 --> 00:21:04.480 and dropping away on the other. The views are spectacular. 254 00:21:05.200 --> 00:21:09.480 You can see four miles layer of the layer of 255 00:21:09.680 --> 00:21:14.960 hills fading into blue distance. At the top of the climb, 256 00:21:15.079 --> 00:21:19.759 the train passes through a short tunnel, thirty seconds of darkness, 257 00:21:19.799 --> 00:21:23.480 broken only by the lights inside the carriage, and then 258 00:21:23.759 --> 00:21:30.559 you emerge into sunlight again, the brightness momentarily dazzling. You're 259 00:21:30.599 --> 00:21:35.960 on a high plateau. Now. The landscape different here, more exposed, 260 00:21:36.079 --> 00:21:40.799 more windswept. The trees are smaller, bent by prevailing winds. 261 00:21:41.599 --> 00:21:46.119 The grass is shorter, tougher. There are stone walls everywhere, 262 00:21:46.160 --> 00:21:51.519 dividing the plateau into a complex pattern of fields. You 263 00:21:51.640 --> 00:21:54.960 pause a flock of sheep being moved by a farmer 264 00:21:55.039 --> 00:21:59.400 and his dog. The dog, a Border Collie, black and 265 00:21:59.519 --> 00:22:03.400 white and low to the ground, works with intense concentration, 266 00:22:04.119 --> 00:22:08.200 running back and forth, keeping the sheep. The sheep bunched together, 267 00:22:09.039 --> 00:22:13.240 responding to whistles from the former that you can't hear 268 00:22:13.960 --> 00:22:18.440 over the sound of the train. The sheep flowed like water, 269 00:22:19.200 --> 00:22:23.400 moving as one organism, the dog guiding them with some 270 00:22:23.599 --> 00:22:29.440 invisible force. It's beautiful to watch, this ancient partnership between 271 00:22:29.599 --> 00:22:33.839 human and dog and sheep, This scene that has probably 272 00:22:33.960 --> 00:22:39.640 played out on this plateau for hundreds of years. Another station, 273 00:22:40.200 --> 00:22:43.839 this one is slightly larger, with a small building, a 274 00:22:43.960 --> 00:22:49.079 waiting room perhaps, or what used to be a ticket office. 275 00:22:49.119 --> 00:22:53.400 The platform has planted with late seasoned flowers still blooming, 276 00:22:54.039 --> 00:23:00.440 marigolds and asters in orange and purple. Several passengers get 277 00:23:00.559 --> 00:23:04.599 off here. More get on, including a young woman with 278 00:23:04.680 --> 00:23:08.119 a baby in a carrier on her chest. The baby 279 00:23:08.240 --> 00:23:12.680 is sleeping, its small head nestled against its mother's chest, 280 00:23:13.039 --> 00:23:19.559 tiny fist skurled. The young woman sits down carefully, trying 281 00:23:19.680 --> 00:23:24.000 not to wake the baby, and settles in by a window, 282 00:23:24.839 --> 00:23:30.960 one hand resting protectively on the baby's back. The train 283 00:23:31.160 --> 00:23:36.599 moves on. You're descending, now, dropping down off the plateau 284 00:23:36.720 --> 00:23:41.519 into another valley. The track winds back and forth, following 285 00:23:41.559 --> 00:23:45.480 the contours of the land, taking it slow and easy. 286 00:23:46.680 --> 00:23:50.319 Through the window, you catch glimpses of where you've been, 287 00:23:51.319 --> 00:23:57.680 the high plateau behind you, the track you traveled visible 288 00:23:58.279 --> 00:24:04.319 as a thin line cutting across the hillside the valley. 289 00:24:04.359 --> 00:24:08.680 Your entering is broader than the others, more settled, There 290 00:24:08.720 --> 00:24:13.440 are more farms here, more houses, more signs of human activity. 291 00:24:14.200 --> 00:24:18.799 But it's still rural, still peaceful, still beautiful in its 292 00:24:18.839 --> 00:24:24.559 autumn colors. You pass orchards, apple orchards, mostly the trees 293 00:24:24.640 --> 00:24:29.519 still bearing fruit. Some of the apples have already been harvested, 294 00:24:29.960 --> 00:24:33.359 but many still hang on the branches, red and green 295 00:24:33.480 --> 00:24:38.400 and yellow. There are wooden boxes stacked beside the trees, 296 00:24:38.720 --> 00:24:42.920 ready to be filled. In one orchard, you can see 297 00:24:43.039 --> 00:24:48.319 people working tiny figures among the trees, peaking apples on 298 00:24:48.440 --> 00:24:53.160 this perfect autumn day. The train follows a canal for 299 00:24:53.200 --> 00:24:57.559 a while, a narrow canal with a tow puff beside it. 300 00:24:58.119 --> 00:25:02.359 The water is green and still reflecting the sky. There's 301 00:25:02.400 --> 00:25:06.240 a narrow boat moored along the bank, a traditional boat 302 00:25:06.480 --> 00:25:11.119 painted in bright colors, with flowers in pots on its roof. 303 00:25:11.880 --> 00:25:17.279 Smoke rises from its chimney. Someone lives there. You realize 304 00:25:17.319 --> 00:25:20.400 someone has made that boat their home, and they wake 305 00:25:20.559 --> 00:25:24.039 up each morning to this view of the canal and 306 00:25:24.119 --> 00:25:28.920 the trees and the autumn countryside. You're feeling drowsy now. 307 00:25:29.240 --> 00:25:33.720 The warmth of the carriage, the gentle rocking of the train, 308 00:25:34.160 --> 00:25:38.200 the hypnotic rhythm of the wheels, the full belly from 309 00:25:38.200 --> 00:25:42.200 your sandwich and apple. It all combines to make your 310 00:25:42.240 --> 00:25:47.000 eyelids heavy. You don't fight it. You let your eyes close, 311 00:25:47.279 --> 00:25:51.720 let your head rest against the window, let yourself drift. 312 00:25:52.720 --> 00:25:58.000 You're not quite asleep, but not quite awake either. You're 313 00:25:58.039 --> 00:26:02.799 in that peaceful in state where the world becomes soft 314 00:26:03.200 --> 00:26:07.759 and dream like. You can still hear the train, still 315 00:26:07.880 --> 00:26:14.160 feel its movement, but it's distant, gentle like ella lull by. 316 00:26:15.720 --> 00:26:21.119 Time passes, you're not sure how much. Ten minutes twenty, 317 00:26:21.799 --> 00:26:25.279 When you open your eyes again, the landscape has changed. 318 00:26:25.839 --> 00:26:29.480 You're in woodland again, deep forest. This time. The tree 319 00:26:29.519 --> 00:26:34.519 is thick and close. The light filtering through is green 320 00:26:34.680 --> 00:26:41.240 and golden, giving everything an underwater quality. The train is 321 00:26:41.319 --> 00:26:46.279 moving very slowly here, barely faster than walking pace. The 322 00:26:46.400 --> 00:26:49.880 track must be old, must need repair, So the train 323 00:26:50.119 --> 00:26:55.440 takes it easy, careful and gentle. But that's fine. There's 324 00:26:55.480 --> 00:27:00.759 no rush. There's nowhere. You need to be up straight 325 00:27:01.039 --> 00:27:05.519 and look around the courage. Some passengers have changed, a 326 00:27:05.599 --> 00:27:09.880 few have gotten off at stations you didn't really notice. 327 00:27:10.279 --> 00:27:16.240 Others have gotten on, But the atmosphere is the same, quiet, peaceful, 328 00:27:17.200 --> 00:27:22.759 everyone absorbed in their own thoughts their own quiet journey. 329 00:27:23.759 --> 00:27:27.400 The elderly couple across the aisle are still holding hands. 330 00:27:28.279 --> 00:27:32.000 The woman has fallen asleep, her head on the man's shoulder. 331 00:27:32.759 --> 00:27:35.880 The man is still looking out the window, but gently 332 00:27:36.440 --> 00:27:42.640 so as not to disturb his wife. His expression is content, peaceful. 333 00:27:43.559 --> 00:27:47.799 This is a good day for him, you think, a 334 00:27:47.960 --> 00:27:53.119 simple day, but a good one. The young woman with 335 00:27:53.240 --> 00:27:56.799 the baby is reading a book, one handed, the other 336 00:27:56.960 --> 00:28:00.960 hand still resting on the baby's back. The baby is 337 00:28:01.079 --> 00:28:06.400 still sleeping, its small chest rising and falling with perfect, 338 00:28:06.559 --> 00:28:10.759 peaceful breaths. You check your watch and are surprise to 339 00:28:10.839 --> 00:28:15.880 see that you've been traveling for four hours. Already four hours, 340 00:28:16.279 --> 00:28:19.440 and yet it feels like barely any time at all. 341 00:28:20.400 --> 00:28:27.079 Time moves differently on this strain. It stretches out, becomes elastic, 342 00:28:27.519 --> 00:28:34.480 becomes irrelevant. The train emerges from the forest into farmland again. 343 00:28:35.279 --> 00:28:38.640 The afternoon sun is lower now, the light taking on 344 00:28:38.759 --> 00:28:43.880 that particular golden quality of autumn afternoons. Everything glows. The 345 00:28:43.920 --> 00:28:48.799 fields glow, the trees glow. Even the dust motes in 346 00:28:48.880 --> 00:28:52.319 the air inside the carriage seem to glow in the 347 00:28:52.480 --> 00:28:57.279 shaves of sunlight coming through the windows. You pause a 348 00:28:57.359 --> 00:29:01.599 small church standing alone in a field, an old stone 349 00:29:01.680 --> 00:29:06.559 church with a grave yard around it. The gravestones are old, lean, 350 00:29:07.039 --> 00:29:11.960 leaning at various angles, covered in moss and licor. The 351 00:29:12.039 --> 00:29:18.400 church looks abandoned, but somehow not sad, just peaceful, just resting, 352 00:29:19.000 --> 00:29:24.519 just being. More villages, more small stations, more gentle climbs 353 00:29:24.559 --> 00:29:29.000 and descends. The train winds through the landscape like a 354 00:29:29.039 --> 00:29:35.440 thread being drawn through fabric, connecting places, connecting people, connecting moments. 355 00:29:35.920 --> 00:29:38.960 You eat your nuts, taking them one at a time, 356 00:29:39.400 --> 00:29:44.400 making them lost their good nuts. Almonds and cashews and walnuts, 357 00:29:45.079 --> 00:29:48.599 lightly salted. Each one is a small burst of flavor 358 00:29:48.720 --> 00:29:53.440 and texture. You drink more water. You feel completely content. 359 00:29:54.799 --> 00:29:58.559 The sun is getting lower. It must be late afternoon now, 360 00:29:58.920 --> 00:30:03.160 maybe four of five o'clock. The light is rich and warm, 361 00:30:03.559 --> 00:30:07.240 painting everything in shades of gold and amber and honey. 362 00:30:07.960 --> 00:30:12.799 The shadows are long, stretching across fields and roads and houses. 363 00:30:13.960 --> 00:30:17.079 You pause a farm where someone is bringing cattle in 364 00:30:17.319 --> 00:30:21.680 for evening milking. The cows walk in a long line, 365 00:30:21.720 --> 00:30:25.519 following the path they know by a hoard heading toward 366 00:30:25.599 --> 00:30:30.240 the barn. A dog runs alongside them, not really needed, 367 00:30:30.319 --> 00:30:39.319 but enjoying the activity. Anyway, tail wagging, tongue lolling. The 368 00:30:39.400 --> 00:30:43.559 train slows and stops at another station. This one is 369 00:30:43.599 --> 00:30:48.599 slightly larger, a junction where another line branches off. There's 370 00:30:48.640 --> 00:30:52.160 a cafe on the platform, a small refreshment room with 371 00:30:52.319 --> 00:30:58.079 windows glowing warmly in the afternoon light. Several passengers get off, 372 00:30:58.599 --> 00:31:02.480 and quite a few kits on. The carriage fills up 373 00:31:02.480 --> 00:31:07.680 a bit more a group of teenage boards, laughing and chatting, 374 00:31:08.240 --> 00:31:12.279 full of energy. They settle into seats near the back 375 00:31:12.319 --> 00:31:18.400 of the carriage, their voices loud at first, but gradually softening, 376 00:31:19.279 --> 00:31:25.920 adapting to the quiet atmosphere of the train. The train 377 00:31:26.039 --> 00:31:32.200 moves on. The light continues to change, becoming softer, more diffuse. 378 00:31:33.200 --> 00:31:37.000 You're aware that the journey will end eventually, that you'll 379 00:31:37.039 --> 00:31:40.119 have to get off at some point, return to your 380 00:31:40.160 --> 00:31:44.200 regular life, but not yet, not for a while yet. 381 00:31:45.799 --> 00:31:51.680 The landscape is heillier again, the train working harder to climb. 382 00:31:52.440 --> 00:31:55.640 You're heading into what must be the final stretch of 383 00:31:55.680 --> 00:31:59.720 the route, the last range of hills before the destination. 384 00:32:01.240 --> 00:32:05.359 Through the window, you can see spectacular views now, the 385 00:32:05.440 --> 00:32:09.079 sun low on the horizon, the sky beginning to show 386 00:32:09.279 --> 00:32:13.519 colors of sunset, pink and orange and purple are storing 387 00:32:13.559 --> 00:32:17.359 to bleed into the blue. The clouds catch the light 388 00:32:17.599 --> 00:32:22.480 and glow like ambush. The train crests a hill, and 389 00:32:22.640 --> 00:32:26.480 suddenly you can see the destination town in the distance, 390 00:32:27.319 --> 00:32:31.000 a spread of buildings in a valley. Lights beginning to 391 00:32:31.079 --> 00:32:35.400 come on as evening approaches. You'll be there in maybe 392 00:32:35.480 --> 00:32:40.000 twenty minutes. You feel a small pang of regret. You 393 00:32:40.119 --> 00:32:43.640 don't want this journey to end. You want to stay 394 00:32:43.880 --> 00:32:48.119 on this train forever, moving gently through the world, watching 395 00:32:48.640 --> 00:32:53.680 and observing and being at peace. But all journeys end. 396 00:32:54.160 --> 00:32:58.640 That's the nature of journeys. The train begins it's descind 397 00:32:58.880 --> 00:33:05.559 toward the town. The landscape becomes more populated, more houses, 398 00:33:05.880 --> 00:33:12.279 more roads, more signs of civilization. The wild autumn countryside 399 00:33:12.400 --> 00:33:18.440 gradually gives way to suburbs, to gardens, to streets. The 400 00:33:18.559 --> 00:33:23.039 light is fading now evening settling in the sky is 401 00:33:23.079 --> 00:33:26.119