In the rail-riding classic The Great Railway Bazaar, it is Paul Theroux’s fellow passengers, rather than the places he visits, that provide the most memorable moments. I found myself thinking of that odd crew of bunkmates and dining car companions again the other day, when I learned that British rail company First Great Western will no longer allow strangers to share sleeper compartments on their trains.

I’m a big fan of overnight trains. The 20-plus hour ride from Halifax to Ottawa was a favorite ritual in college: a moving oasis of calm between the chaos of final exams and the chaos of the holidays. Likewise, in India, sleeper trains were my lifesaver—10 or 15 precious hours of air-conditioned quiet—and though I didn’t meet a Theroux-esque cast of characters, I was happy even to have met polite, middle-aged Indian businessmen (who mostly seemed slightly terrified to find a solo female college student in their midst). It’s a shame to see such experiences being extinguished on the midnight run from London to Penzance.

I haven’t been the only one pondering sleeper cars and their inhabitants following First Great Western’s announcement. In this essay for the Guardian, Stephen Moss rides the sleeper train from London Euston to Fort William, Scotland, and reflects—with some help from his fellow passengers—on “the poetry of the journey.”

Photo by Jsome1 via Flickr (Creative Commons)