CAMLIK

There are many reasons to visit the little town of Selçuk south of Izmir in Turkey's Aegean region. The House of the Virgin Mary, which was declared a shrine by the Vatican in 1961, is here, and the ruins of Ephesus are the most famous of its many sights. Less well-known, however, is the Museum of Steam Locomotives at Çamlik to the south of Selçuk. This museum will fascinate everyone, especially those over the age of 50 who remember travelling by steam train in the days when the Eastern Express crossed Turkey from end to end from Haydarpasa to Kars, or who as children dreamed of travelling overnight in a sleeper carriage on the Kurtalan Express. A regular minibus service from Selçuk Bus Station is one way to get to the museum, but for train enthusiasts, by far the most enjoyable and appropriate way is of course by train, even though it be a modern diesel. So one morning we made our way to Selçuk Railway Station to await the Denizli Express, which was due in at 10.37. The train drew in on time and we boarded. Before long the train began to climb, passing through orchards of peach, olive and fig trees. Beyond them the magnificent Selçuk Castle was not lost to sight until we entered the first tunnel. Hardly were we through that than we plunged into another, and then the third and longest, which at 1056 metres seemed neverending. Soon after emerging into the daylight once more, we disembarked at Çamlik Station. From there is it was a short walk to the Çamlik Steam Locomotive Museum. The now silent giants reposed amidst oleanders and palms. All were shining and well cared for. We were in a paradise for steam engines.

Museum director Attila Misirlioglu welcomed us and explained that his father was the first signalman at the station. 'So the museum has a sentimental significance for me,' he told us. After the decision to establish the museum was reached by three regional offices, the Turkish Railway Company proposed that Misirlioglu undertake the job of setting it up. Misirlioglu knew that the collection was a major one, and resolved to establish a museum worthy of it. The 30 steam locomotives were manufactured in various countries, including Germany, Britain, France, the United States, Sweden and Czechoslovakia. We began our tour of the museum, around which are laid old sleepers, coming first to a German Borsig, number 3405, which started its career on the Edirne line in 1906. The plaque told us that it weighs 54.9 tons and has a maximum speed of 75 kilometres per hour.

Beyond it stood number 46103 built by the Robert Stephenson firm. This locomotive began working on the Izmir-Ödemis line in 1929 and had a speed of 60 miles per hour. Part of the fun of visiting the museum is that visitors are permitted to climb into the engines, so we climbed into a 110.6 ton locomotive manufactured by the US Vulcan Iron Works which went into operation on the Kayseri-Çankiri line in 1948. Just imagine with what roaring and heavy breathing it must have entered Kayseri Station. How many people it must have reunited and how many left weeping behind.

And what about those unforgettable acquaintances forged in old-fashioned sleeping compartments? Turkish novelist Resat Nuri Güntekin (1889-1956) has left us a humorous account of these in his book Anadolu Notlari: 'One or two nights spent alone with a stranger on a train mirrors all the stages of a long married life. Starting out as two shy strangers, you first take off your socks and boots in front of one another, then remove your shirt and put on your pyjamas or nightshirt. You prepare your meals and eat them together. You divulge things that you would never consider revealing to colleagues that you have faced over the same desk every day for years; opening up the most private and vulnerable corners of your soul. Facing one another, side by side, head to head, or sometimes without compunction putting your feet next to one another's heads, together you sleep and wake up by turns amidst diverse shaking and buffetting. Often the person you looked on as an enemy at the outset of the journey and could have strangled has turned into an old friend by the time you part. Sometimes you embrace one another, agree to meet again and exchange addresses. The strangest thing is that the more genuine malice you harboured towards one another at the beginning, the more genuine and kindly affection and loyalty you feel towards that person one or two days later.'

When we asked Attila Misirlioglu which of the engines was his favourite, he pointed out one dating from 1887 that was fuelled by wood rather than coal, and explained that there are just one or two others of its kind in existence.The museum incorporates the old Çamlik station, which today is unused. Formerly known as Aziziye, Mustafa Kemal Atatürk renamed it Çamlik when he visited in 1937. The station was built in 1885 and still has its original repair shop, hydraulic press, and rails. Standing on the British made turntable you wonder how the huge locomotives were ever turned by manual power alone. The old water tank, a carriage dating from 1890 seating 20 people, two snow sweepers and winches are other reminders of what real train travel was like! Attila Misirlioglu told us that revenues from the entrance charges are not sufficient to cover the costs of maintaining the museum, and the Turkish Railway Company and the Third Region Office do their best to meet the shortfall. The young Turkish Republic was justly proud of its thousands of kilometres of railway track laid throughout the country in such a short time. The grand old veterans of those railways which puffed their way across plains, rivers and mountains carrying passengers and goods for nearly a century are now retired, but they still appreciate reminiscing silently with visitors about the good old days of steam.

* Narhanim Alidedoglu is a freelance writer