#Nearest Railway Station

[nearestmetrostation]

Nearest Railway Station to Kedarnath: Your Ultimate Travel Guide

Kedarnath, one of the holiest pilgrimage sites for Hindus, is nestled in the Himalayas of Uttarakhand. Dedicated to Lord Shiva, this sacred shrine is part of the revered Char Dham Yatra. Every year, thousands of devotees and adventure seekers embark on a journey to Kedarnath for its spiritual aura and breathtaking landscape.

If you're planning to visit Kedarnath and wondering about the nearest railway station and how to reach this divine destination, this guide covers everything you need to know.

Nearest Railway Station to Kedarnath

The nearest railway station to Kedarnath is Rishikesh Railway Station (RKSH), which is approximately 216 km away. Rishikesh serves as the primary railhead for travelers heading towards Kedarnath and other pilgrimage sites in Uttarakhand.

Alternative Railway Stations Near Kedarnath

If you are traveling from different parts of India, here are some alternative railway stations:

Haridwar Junction (HW) – Approximately 240 km away.

Dehradun Railway Station (DDN) – Around 257 km away.

Kotdwar Railway Station (KTW) – Roughly 250 km away.

These stations are well-connected to major cities across India and serve as key transit points for Kedarnath pilgrims.

How to Reach Kedarnath from Rishikesh Railway Station

Once you arrive at Rishikesh Railway Station, you can choose from various transportation options to reach Kedarnath:

1. By Bus

Uttarakhand Transport Corporation (UTC) and private operators run buses from Rishikesh to Gaurikund (the last motorable point before Kedarnath).

The journey takes around 8-10 hours.

The fare ranges from ₹300 to ₹800, depending on the bus type.

2. By Taxi or Private Cab

Taxis are available from Rishikesh to Gaurikund.

The cost of a private cab ranges between ₹5,000 and ₹8,000.

Shared taxis are available at a lower cost.

3. By Self-Drive or Rental Car

If you prefer driving, renting a car is a flexible option.

Roads are well-maintained, but driving in hilly terrain requires experience.

4. By Helicopter

Helicopter services operate from Phata, Guptkashi, and Sersi.

Booking in advance is recommended during the peak season.

Trek from Gaurikund to Kedarnath

From Gaurikund, visitors must trek 16 km uphill to reach Kedarnath Temple. Options for the trek include:

On Foot: The traditional and scenic way.

Pony or Mule Services: Charges range from ₹2,500 to ₹4,000.

Palki/Doli Services: Ideal for elderly pilgrims.

Helicopter Services: Available from Phata, Guptkashi, and Sersi.

Why Visit Kedarnath?

Kedarnath offers a divine experience beyond religious significance. Here’s why it is worth a visit:

1. Spiritual Significance

Kedarnath is one of the twelve Jyotirlingas of Lord Shiva.

Part of the Char Dham Yatra and Panch Kedar pilgrimage.

2. Scenic Beauty

Surrounded by the majestic Himalayas.

The trek offers breathtaking views of glaciers and lush valleys.

3. Rich History and Architecture

Built by Adi Shankaracharya in the 8th century.

Resilient against harsh weather conditions.

Best Time to Visit Kedarnath

Kedarnath remains closed for six months (November to April) due to heavy snowfall. The best time to visit is:

May to June: Pleasant weather and open temple doors.

September to October: Fewer crowds and a serene atmosphere.

Avoid Monsoon (July to August): Landslides and heavy rains make travel risky.

Nearby Attractions

While visiting Kedarnath, explore these nearby attractions:

Bhairav Temple – Located near Kedarnath Temple, dedicated to Lord Bhairav.

Vasuki Tal – A stunning high-altitude lake.

Triyuginarayan Temple – The legendary site of Lord Shiva and Goddess Parvati’s marriage.

Guptkashi – Known for the Vishwanath Temple.

Travel Tips for Visitors

Start Early: Roads close early due to hilly terrain.

Pack Warm Clothes: Even in summer, temperatures can drop.

Stay Hydrated: High-altitude travel can be exhausting.

Book Accommodations in Advance: Especially during peak season.

Follow Temple Rules: Respect religious customs and dress appropriately.

Conclusion

Kedarnath is a must-visit for spiritual seekers and adventure enthusiasts alike. With Rishikesh Railway Station being the nearest major railhead, reaching this divine destination is accessible and convenient. Whether you travel by road, helicopter, or trek, the journey to Kedarnath is a soul-enriching experience filled with faith, breathtaking scenery, and cultural heritage.

Plan your trip today and embark on a journey to one of India's most sacred shrines!

[freerangetropicalbirds]

I've been obsessing over train travel for the past week help

I live in a no train area

[travelthrivehub]

Explore the Spiritual Wonders of Kainchi Dham

Did you know Kainchi Dham started over 60 years ago? It was founded by Neem Karoli Baba. Now, it’s a famous spiritual retreat that draws thousands every year. It’s in the Himalayan hills of Uttarakhand. This place is a safe spot for those looking for peace. It also has beautiful nature around it. When you visit, you’ll learn about its history and feel its special…

[statueofunitytentcity]

Ultimate Guide: Chennai to Statue of Unity Tour Packages

Discover seamless travel options from Chennai to Statue of Unity. Explore tour packages, stay near the Statue of Unity, and indulge in luxury at Tent City-1. Delight in the serenity of nature, luxuriate in the comforts of opulent accommodations and forge memories that will endure a lifetime.

[joezworld]

Christmas Story

Tidmouth Station - December 27, 1984 - 10:00 AM

City of Truro was roused from his cold and uncomfortable slumber by the movement of his wheels. He opened his eyes to find that he’d been attached to a goods train. He was facing rearwards still, and a sea of hostile looking trucks and vans stared back at him. He stared back, not about to be scared by a group of lesser creatures. 

Presently, there was a whistle, and another green engine rolled past him, a single flatbed truck behind him. “Good morning!” the engine said cheerfully. “I was wondering when you were going to wake up.”

Truro blinked, unused to common courtesy after the savage treatment he’d endured. “Yes, I am now awake,” he said slowly. “Where are we going?” 

“To the mainland - well, that’s where I’m going at least,” the engine prattled on as he was backed down onto the train. “I think you’re going beyond there.”

“My own fifteen guinea special, as it were,” Truro remarked blithely. “It seems that my loan here has fallen through.”

“Ah well,” the engine said - was he a Black Five? He seemed to have some Stanier in his design. Maybe a touch of Gresley too. “Not everything works out. I’m sure that the museum will have you back on display in no time.”

Truro had to avoid gritting his teeth. “Yes, I’m sure they will.”

-

The journey continued mostly uneventfully as the train continued down the line. Quite naturally, it was a slow pickup goods, and so there was plenty of time for this… LMS? engine to talk and talk and talk. 

“-and so then I said- oh my goodness, what is he wearing?” The engine cut off as they rolled past a signal near some no-where station in the middle of the countryside. 

Truro didn’t have to guess at who was coming the other way - the growling motor was obvious from a distance. 

The two trains passed at a relatively slow pace - the horrid diesel growling away at a quiet roar. It said something to the engine pulling Truro along, and then was sliding away down the line, surely to ruin someone else’s day. 

The green engine was silent. 

“What was that about?” Truro hoped that he could perhaps find an ally against this backwards island with its diesel loving steam engines. “Did it-”

“Oh, nothing.” The green engine said. “I’ve just been in the works for a few months. I haven’t seen him since October and, well it seems like I’ve missed some things.”

“Like this monster…” The truck nearest to Truro whispered. Truro shot it an icy glare to make it subside. 

“Oh goodness me,” Truro said with faux-drama. “I can only sympathize! I’ve been on this island a month and I wish that I’d been in the works the whole time!” 

“Really?” the engine laughed. “Why’s that? I can say it’s not the picnic it used to be!” 

“Oh, well, let’s just start with that blasted diesel that just passed us…” Truro launched into a… reasonably accurate tale of the last month, not noticing how quiet the engine in front got as he went on. 

He pointedly ignored the deranged looking smiles on the faces of the trucks behind him.

----

Halfway to Kellsthorpe Road Station - December 27, 1984 - 1:35 PM

“Henry.” The Fat Controller didn’t even have the energy to be upset. “You have been out of the works for five hours.”

Henry was defiant. “Sir, I wish that someone had told me. I would have dealt with him in the yard.” 

“That is not the right response.” Stephen Hatt called from where he was inspecting the p-way gang. They almost had a track open. 

“With respect sir,” Henry said without a hint of shame. “But you’re not the Fat Controller yet.”

Charles Hatt inspected the gravel by his shoes, trying very hard to remember why he put up with these engines. 

“-you dare lay your filthy hands upon me!” came a bellow from the lineside. The men were slipping cables around City of Truro’s battered form. “I am the Great Western, and you will all pay for this treachery!” 

Ah yes, there it was. 

Charles looked up at Henry. “Henry, the National Railway Museum and the Great Western Museum had to go through a great deal of trouble for him. There was some kind of an engine trade.”

“So?”

“Henry, we owe Swindon and York an engine now. The same engine.”

“He’s still in one piece.” There was a clunk. “Mostly. Say, if he’s in two pieces, he can-”

“An operating engine.”

There was a pause, as Henry thought something over. “Well I’m certainly not going.”

The Fat Controller felt exhausted. “Henry…” 

“I won’t. He deserved it.”

A deep sigh escaped Charles. “I want you to know that I’m only agreeing to this because it will soon not be my problem.”

“Sir, you’re not retiring from the Hatt Locomotive Trust as well, are you?”

“Bollocks.”

--------------------------

The Museum of the Great Western Railway at Swindon - January 3, 1985 - Early in the morning. 

“ATTENTION, BILGEWATER DRINKING WESTERNERS!” a voice rattled the walls of the museum, startling the exhibits awake. 

“What in the world..?” Lode Star stammered as she blinked the sleep out of her eyes. 

“I AM A REPRESENTATIVE OF A SUPERIOR RAILWAY, AND I HAVE JUDGED THIS FACILITY TO BE INFERIOR! YOU SHOULD BE FURIOUS AT THE SQUALOROUS CONDITIONS THEY HAVE FORCED YOU TO- what? No, I shall not be silent! Do you think I want to be here?! This is a ramshackle hovel! By an industrial park! You should be ashamed that you keep anything of value here, let alone locomotives!” 

A blue tender was backing into the spot that Truro had vacated over a month prior. Complaints and whinges followed in its wake, finally resolving into the form of a 4-6-2 of distinctly eastern design. 

“Who are you?” Lode Star asked, trying very hard to be imposing. 

“I,” the big engine said imperiously, “am Gordon, first of the Gresleys and an honored member of the London and North Eastern Railway. I am here, however temporarily, as a “fill-in” for your most reviled member, City of Truro.” He said Truro’s name like it was a curse word. 

“Whatever happened to Truro?” she asked, suddenly very concerned. 

“You shall find out, in due time,” the blue engine said ominously.

--------

The National Railway Museum, York - April 25, 1985 - Midday

The engines in the Great Hall were abuzz with anticipation, although it couldn’t be said that it was pleasant. The train had been delayed by several hours, and this gave some engines time to request a move outside. 

When the request had been denied, they stopped asking and started ordering. 

-

“I’m going to give him one chance to explain himself.” Caerphilly Castle set her jaw, waiting for the train to come into view.   

“I’m surprised you’re going to give him that much,” Evening Star said grimly. 

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Western Fusilier growled. 

Evening Star eyed the big diesel-hydraulic. “Fuse, you shouldn’t be here. It’s not going to be healthy for you.”

“And I suppose that you possess a recently-discovered wellspring of calm?”

“Quiet, the lot of you!” Railcar 4 snapped. “We’re going to talk to him, and then-”

“We’re going to kill him,” Fusilier sniffed. 

“No!” 

-

Inside the doors to the Great Hall, a trio of Gresleys watched with varying levels of concern. 

“I wish that they weren’t out there,” Green Arrow said quietly. “It’s not going to end well for them.”

“Oh, do give over.” Mallard sniffed. “What are they going to do? Yell him to death? Not a one of them can move under their own power!” 

“You would be surprised at the power of words, cousin,” Gordon said quietly, watching the proceedings. 

“I am well aware of the power of words, mister Representative Most Plenipotentiary.” The streamlined engine scoffed. “What exactly were you thinking with that? Letting some of them into our ranks?”

“Mal, I didn’t see you complaining when they tapped the shovel to your buffers.” Green Arrow raised an eyebrow. 

“Why you-!” 

“Quiet!” snapped Coppernob, from his place near the doors. “Do we want to hear this or not?”

The train slowly rolled into view, and the entire museum fell silent. 

“Well cousin,” except for Mallard, of course. “You’ve certainly done it now.”

First along was Truro, who was being pushed into the yard by a diesel - oh goodness gracious it was Bear. 

It didn’t look like Bear.

Then again it didn’t look like Truro either. 

Bear, still unmistakably a Western Region diesel-hydraulic, was painted from buffer to buffer in LNER Express Apple Green. In an oval in the center of his bodywork, 7101 was spelled out in gold letters, while it was flanked by the letters LN ER. His wheels were rimmed in white, and he had traditional red bufferbeams, with № 35 102 painted on it. He practically sparkled in the sun, and there couldn’t have been a cleaner engine inside the museum. 

And then there was Truro. 

His GWR green was gone. 

In its place was a very drab BR Black. 

[kaydreamer]

The Flirting Game

Hope and Hancock were only five minutes along the train line when they heard the telltale snarl of feral ghouls.

The fight was over quickly. Hancock was a whirl of deadly red at close quarters, and while Hope preferred to be a hell of a lot further away from her targets, she was swift on her feet and lethal with her pistol. There was an exhilaration to a gunfight at close quarters, one which swept her up in the rush of combat, then left her dizzy and hollow in the aftermath.

This time was no different.

Hope lowered her gun, breathing hard to quell the nausea, looking grimly at the slain ghouls. When she’d fought her first horde of ferals, mere weeks ago, she’d been terrified. They had rushed her like zombies in a horror movie, snarling monsters torn from nightmare. It wasn’t until they were dead, and she’d noticed one of them holding a teddy, his hand fused shut around it, that the tragedy of their lost humanity struck her.

She wondered if it was the same with super mutants. 

She wondered what Hancock thought.

She looked over at him. He was checking the area, making sure there were no more ferals lurking in any of the rail cars. He must have felt her eyes on him, because he turned to look at her, frowning when he caught her conflicted expression. He returned, placing an uncharacteristically tentative hand on her shoulder.

“You okay?”

“Does it… upset you?” she asked softly, looking down at the nearest ghoul. “You know… having to shoot them?”

Hancock shook his head. “It’s a mercy. They… ain’t who they were.”

Hope nodded, swallowing hard.

“Yeah. I guess so.”

They both jumped as Dogmeat barked, growling at a rustling sound coming from one of the bushes. Hancock had his shotgun up in an instant, pushing Hope behind him as a mole rat burst out, only for its head to explode with an almighty blast a heartbeat later. 

“Would ya look at that?” said Hancock. “Looks like dinner just announced itself.”

“A mole rat?!” said Hope, aghast. She screwed up her face in disgust. “No thanks. I’ll go hungry.”

“You kiddin’? Mole rat is delicious. I’ll prove it.” He turned to her, his expression smug. “Twenty caps says you like it after I’m done cookin’ it.”

“Ugh…” Hope winced. “That means I have to actually eat some.”

“Fifty caps.”

“...Fine.”

Hancock grinned, grabbing the headless mole rat by the tail and hoisting it over his shoulder. “Guess I’m about to be fifty caps richer,” he said, with a confidence Hope had very little faith in. “Let’s take it to Oberland. If they got mutfruit, then I got the perfect recipe in mind.”

It was just getting dark by the time they reached Oberland Station. A chugging generator lit a row of empty rail cars along the train line, each repurposed as a hotel room of sorts. Hope had learned during her last visit that Oberland Station was a common stop for travellers on their way to Diamond City, so the ‘Railway Hotel’ received a steady stream of guests - as did a second line of rail cars which served as a market. The settlement also boasted a small farm for tatos and mutfruit, along with a fairly well-maintained station house which provided communal living for the permanent settlers.

The leader of the settlement was a dark-skinned woman by the name of Valerie, who greeted Hope enthusiastically, and Hancock even more enthusiastically when she caught sight of the mole rat carcass he was carrying.

“We’ve already made a tato soup and bread rolls for tonight, but we haven’t had fresh game for a few days,” she said. “If you’re fixing to sell that, dinner is on us.”

“Oh, I’ll do ya one better,” said Hancock. “Let me use some mutfruit, and some sugar sap if ya got it, and I’ll cook it for ya. Free of charge.”

“Done,” said Valerie. “There’s a cooler bin further in, you can dump it there.” She turned to Hope. “Sorry, didn’t mean to be rude. It’s great to see you again, General.”

“Just Hope is fine,” said Hope, elbowing Hancock as he saluted her. “I don’t suppose you have a room free?”

“None in the Railway, I’m afraid - we got two caravans of traders stopped here tonight. But Tess and I made one up for ‘specially for the Minutemen while you were gone. Got one bed and a couch in it. Let me show you.”

The room was upstairs in an old white switching tower which, Valerie informed her, was officially the Minutemen tower in the past, and was officially the Minutemen tower again. The downstairs portion had a desk, a radio, and some shelves for storing supplies.

“Speaking of the radio,” said Hope, as they approached the tower after depositing the molerat by the dining shack, “I need to update your network map. Goodneighbor is joining the radio relay, and Oberland is the closest relay partner.”

“Is that how you stole their mayor?” asked Valerie, chuckling.

“I guess my reputation precedes me,” said Hancock.

“Not many ghouls around dressed like they raided a museum,” she shrugged, smirking. “Map’s in the desk drawer. Jed’s in charge of the radio, give him the listening frequency and he’ll keep it tuned.”

“Do you mind if we use it to test the signal tomorrow?” asked Hope. “I’d like to radio forward to Sanctuary along the relay as well.”

“It’s all yours, Gener- Hope,” said Valerie, pausing at the foot of the switching tower. “Dump your things upstairs and come join us for a meal.”

The dining shack was a large wood-and-sheet-metal building filled with long picnic tables. A bar sat in the middle, behind which was a kitchen with a wood-fired stove. It hummed with conversation. As Hope entered, a few shouts of greeting were raised by the permanent settlers.

“Aren’t you little miss popular?” said Hancock, as they approached the kitchen.

“I should hope so,” said a dark-haired woman, waving a ladle. “Those damn raiders haven’t touched us since she took care of the bunch out at Back Street Apparel. It’s good to have the Minutemen back.” She poured an extra large serving of soup into two bowls, along with two thick slices of bread. “I’m Tess, by the way,” she said to Hancock. “Val said you bought in the mole rat. You best make sure you clean my kitchen once you’re done with it.” She waved the ladle close to his nose, but the smile on her face belied the threat.

“You have my solemn vow,” said Hancock, a hand to his heart.

“Good. Now get some food in your bellies, before it goes cold.”

Hope found herself pulled into a number of conversations as she and Hancock enjoyed their meal - mostly by the settlers, who were eager to chat. The caravan traders sat in stark contrast, glowering at her from a separate table. Hope overheard a few dark mutterings from their group, which contained the words ‘ghoul’ and ‘shouldn’t be allowed’. But Hancock seemed determined not to let it get to him, and when Tess overheard one particularly foul remark, which sounded to Hope's ears like 'ghoul-fucker', she smacked the man across the back of the head with the ladle and banished him from the dining shack. 

By his hoot of laughter, Hancock certainly enjoyed that.

“It’s ridiculous, anyway,” said Valerie, afterwards. “We get a lot of ghouls through here, and we deal with a lot of ferals, and not once have I seen one turn into the other. But we kick out a drunk human every other week.”

“I hear ya, sister,” said Hancock. “And thanks. Means a lot to hear.”

Eventually, one of the settlers invited them back to the station House for drinks, where Dogmeat received a bounty of belly scratches from a pair of delighted children, while Hancock lost a few dozen caps on several animated games of poker because  - to Hope’s amusement - he had a terrible poker face.

At least, he did where she was concerned.

Poker turned into darts, and when Hancock was drunk enough to decide that darts would be more fun as a game of dodgeball, with himself as the target, she’d finally dragged him away to get some sleep.

By the time they got back to the switching tower, they were both mentally buzzing and physically exhausted. Hancock flopped immediately onto the couch, Dogmeat at his feet, while Hope stood and unclipped her Minutemen chest armour. Hancock whistled softly through his teeth as she removed it, looking her up and down with a crooked grin.

Hope raised a slow brow. “Like what you see?”

“Oh, you bet I do,” said Hancock, his voice a low rumble. “That vault suit hugs all the right curves.”

“Fahrenheit did say you thought I looked hot in it.”

“Did she?” Hancock’s flirtatious expression took on a hint of bewilderment. “Since when does she do shit like that?”

“It was after the thing with Bobbi,” said Hope, shooing him along the couch so she could sit. “I think she was trying to cheer me up.”

“Heh. Did it work?”

“A bit,” said Hope, catching his eye with a smile.

“By the way… about all the comments and shit,” said Hancock, shifting in his seat a little. “I like to flirt, it’s all in good fun. I don’t mean anythin’ by it. But if I ever make you uncomfortable, just tell me to back the fuck off.”

Hope paused at that remark. She felt the weight of it shift something in their dynamic, the unstable ground beneath her suddenly a little more solid. ‘All in good fun.’ Just a game of playful banter.

They were on the same page.

Too bad Hope was competitive.

“Oh?” She straightened up a little, tilting her head, her voice dropping a few notes. “You don’t think I can give as good as I get?”

Hancock grinned as he turned toward her, mirroring her tone. “Is that a challenge, sunshine?”

Hope smirked. “Sure, why not. Let’s see if I can find out whether or not ghouls can blush.”

“Oh, this ghoul can,” said Hancock, leaning toward her. “But you’ll have to work really, really hard for it.”

“What do I get if I win?”

“What do you want?”

“A kiss,” said Hope, as her better judgement got up and walked out of the room.

“Done,” said Hancock quickly, a flash of mischief in his eyes. “No take-backsies. You’ll have to try harder than that, though.”

“Who said I was trying?”

“Heh. I like this game. So, what do I get if I win?”

“What do you want?”

“Oh, so many things.” Hancock ran a finger up her arm, and Hope’s skin beneath the vault suit burned. “But… I’ll settle for a date,” he said, leaning back. “‘Cause I’m a gentlemen.”

“Haven’t we already been on a date?” Hope teased, her face warm and her composure hanging by a thread. “You even bought me dinner.”

Hancock chuckled, soft and warm. “Damn, ya caught me. Alright, I want a second date.”

Hope’s heart did a bellyflop. “Well,” she breathed. “I look forward to losing.”

“Oh, so do I, sunshine,” Hancock purred. “So do I.”

When Hancock opened his backpack and pulled out some Jet, Hope was quick to take him up on the offer. The day had been long, full, and exhausting, and a little mental quiet seemed like an excellent idea. They took their hits together, flopping along opposite sides of the couch, legs tangled over Dogmeat who had curled up in the middle. Hope focused on the visuals this time - not as vivid as Daytripper, but still bright, and so pretty with the sparkling quality everything had. The slowness of the world was pure bliss. She breathed deeply, allowing the momentary serenity to wash over her. As she came back to herself, she felt thoughts began to drift back in. She let them float through, soft and easy.

To learn that flirting was something Hancock did for fun, and not something he expected anything to come of, was a profound relief. Bittersweet, because she felt an undeniable spark. But every time she’d found herself in a casual fling, which wasn’t uncommon in the peace-and-free-love crowd, it had ended in heartbreak. She always caught feelings. Every. Fucking. Time. The last thing she needed was to ruin a blossoming friendship, not to mention an outright alliance between Goodneighbor and the Minutemen, by making the same mistake she’d made dozens of times before, getting herself and her heart tangled around a man whose swagger and charm both screamed ‘no strings attached’.

A crush and a flirting game, though? That territory was safe enough, and undeniably fun. The sting of unrequited feelings, already flickering to life, was something she could endure. Certain friendships were worth that.

And if they ever were requited? If it became obvious he shared her feelings? 

She’d rejoice.

But she’d have to hear it from him. She’d been wrong too many times to trust her own judgement anymore.

Hancock’s jet-clear thoughts orbited around the baffling nugget of knowledge that Fahrenheit had told Hope he thought her vault suit was hot. Fahrenheit did that. Sure, Hope had said the comment was meant to cheer her up, and it’s not like he hadn’t made it blindingly obvious himself, but still - Fahrenheit had never once had anything to say about any of the women he’d taken a fancy to before now. And certainly-the-hell-not to the woman in question. She stayed out of that shit.

Damn girl was far too perceptive. 

It was because he hadn’t slept with Hope. He was infamous as a flirt - damn proud of it, in fact - taking pretty ladies, and the occasional handsome fellow, on ‘tours’ of Goodneighbor which always ended upstairs in his private room at the Statehouse, or in his now-former apartment. Not getting Hope into bed when he was obviously attracted to her was weird for him, and suddenly Fahrenheit seemed to have a lot to say about her.

If Fahrenheit had noticed something was off, the devil only knew what Hope herself was thinking - which was why he’d finally bought up the flirting. He had to let her know he wasn’t expecting anything, that she could tell him to buzz off with no hard feelings.

Instead, she’d decided to make a competition of it, and damn if that didn’t make this whole tangled mess even more fun. He was going to lose that game. He was going to lose it more than once, cursed to spend god-knows-how-long ducking away whenever he felt heat rising in his cheeks, so he didn’t put her in the awkward position of making good on her promise.

Much as he longed to kiss her, he knew one taste of her lips would hook him harder than any chem ever had, and he’d probably combust with yearning in the aftermath.

It was sweet torture, wanting what he couldn’t have.

He kinda liked it.

Hope was wandering lazily around the room in her post-jet afterglow, eyes half-shut, enjoying the tingles along her skin and the slight shimmer which still buzzed along the corners of the world. She watched as Hancock stretched his arms out slowly with a long yawn. “I’m beat,” he said. “You wanna get some shuteye?”

“Sounds good,” she said, through a yawn of her own. She glanced at the bed, then back to Hancock. As if in answer, he kicked off his shoes and stretched out along the couch, pulling his hat down over his eyes. 

“Bed’s all yours.”

“You really are a gentleman,” Hope teased, deliberately angling the zipper of her vault suit to make it as loud as possible as she slowly pulled it down. Hancock breathed out a huff of amusement, hand twitching toward his hat before he let it fall back to his side. Hope flicked off the light and shimmied into the bed. It wasn’t as soft as the one in Goodneighbor, but it was a damn sight better than pretty much anything else.

“Goodnight, Hancock.”

“Sweet dreams, sunshine.”

First Chapter

Chapter 7

Chapter 9: COMING SOON

[scotianostra]

On December 14th 1896 the first carriage of the new Glasgow District Subway, as it was originally named, departed Govan Cross at 5am.

The first cars were cable-hauled and would remain so until electrification was introduced in 1935.

The brainchild of civil engineer Alexander Simpson, it had been built to serve a rapidly-expanding industrial city with a population fast approaching 1 million people.

As dawn broke it seemed the whole city was out in force and directors and officials were soon congratulating themselves on the success of their new system. However, any fist-pumping or back-slapping was to prove premature.

At around 3pm a complete breakdown occurred on the outer circle, causing momentary chaos. Stranded passengers were forced to walk along the lines back to the nearest station.

A few hours later, as normal service resumed, one man suffered a horrific foot injury as the huge swell of people forced him between the carriage and. As if that wasn’t bad enough for day one, worse followed at just before 11pm when a stationary carriage awaiting the signal to approach St Enoch Station from Bridge Street was hit by another car running at near full speed. The two carriages were carrying roughly 50 passengers each at the time of the collision and 18 were reported as seriously injured. platform.

One 14-year-old boy was rendered unconscious and taken to the Royal Infirmary, having suffered a severe cut to his left temple.

The accident made headlines up and down the UK, forcing the closure of the Subway until January the following year.

An enquiry into the collision concluded that defective electrical connections between the signals had been the cause, although private trials in the weeks leading up to the opening had failed to flag up any major issues.

The driver of the approaching car claimed that he had spotted the stationary carriage but had been unable to stop in time to prevent the collision.

Despite the accident, the vibe was mostly positive - one of the main complaints being that the number of cars available on day one had been “hopelessly inadequate”. Subway directors countered this by stating that the extreme “rush of traffic” had exceeded all expectations.

They weren’t wrong - over 9 million passengers travelled on the Glasgow Subway in its first full year of operation.

When the Subway opened, a fixed fare price of one penny allowed passengers to travel around the six and a half mile long subway as many times as they wished. Many passengers had taken full advantage of this on the inaugural day - including the 14-year-old boy who suffered the severe head injury at 11pm, who, it’s said, had been travelling round and round the system for 8 or 9 hours prior to the collision. The fixed rate was soon abolished in favour of a fare stage system to avoid future congestion.

The railway ran with little further change until 1977 when the new operators, Greater Glasgow Passenger Transport Executive, closed it for major modernisation investment. The railway in its present form reopened for operation on 16 April 1980.

The Glasgow Subway system is the only metro system never to have been expanded from its original route in 125 years, although a report published in 2018 summarised various extension plans from 1937 onwards.

Strathclyde Partnership for Transport (SPT) unveiled a £200M contract with Stadler and Ansaldo STS in 2016 for modernisation of the Subway, including new driverless rolling stock. These trains were expected to enter service after the modernisation completed in 2020; however the trains entered passenger service in December 2023. The trains were built by Stadler Rail at their factory in Altenrhein in eastern Switzerland.

The Glasgow Subway still uses a flat-fare structure rather than a distance-based fare structure. A ticket allows passengers to stay on the Subway for as long as they like.

The Subway runs from 06:30 to 23:40 Monday to Saturday and 10:00 to 18:12 on Sunday. Trains run every 6–8 minutes during off-peak periods on both Inner (Anti-Clockwise) and Outer (Clockwise) services.

The celebrated Glaswegian writer and broadcaster Cliff Hanley composed a satirical song about the pre-modernisation era Subway entitled "The Underground Song". It was popular as a stage piece performed by the comedians Rikki Fulton and Jack Milroy in their Francie and Josie act. Hanley is more famous for another song, Scotland the Brave.

The chorus of the song is:

There's Partick Cross and Cessnock, Hillhead and Merkland Street, St George's Cross and Govan Cross where all the people meet; West Street, Shields Road – The train goes round and round; You've never lived unless you've been on the Glasgow Underground

The Glasgow Subway and its adjacent public houses are the focal point of a pub crawl known as the Subcrawl. Participants buy an all day ticket, disembark at each of the 15 stations and have a drink in the nearest bar

[forcastedapocalypse]

I miss summers a lot. I’m native to a small coastal village, I don’t miss the 8 hours of car travel but it’s worth seeing all the constellations in the beach. My village is like any other.

Just one of those coastal villages where everyone knows everyone. The nearest railway station is 29 km away. There’s a big boat to travel between villages. Coastal villages with more temples than schools, heatwaves, and a shop owned by a couple in their late 60s. They always remember to restock your favourite popsicle flavour and off-brand maggi.

In the middle of the summer vacation, the trees are as loud as can be. You can feel the hot sun like a layer of skin you wanna peel off. Try it if you must. My neighbours are back home with their daughter, they cut her hair short again.

The summer is like every other. Kids making funny noises by talking into the table fan, I think we sounded like aliens, she thought it was like robots. That’s how we’ve always been, I wanted to reach beyond the Sun and she wanted machines to take over their daily hard labour.

Summer vacations end, and we go back home to our toasters, heaters, washing machines, and ACs. I could reach her in 8 hours if I start driving, but sometimes I feel like she lives 6 years away. I think I miss her more than the summer.

[weirdowithaquill]

Has the NWR reconnected with any preserved lines along the old Furness Railway? I know one was mentioned once.

Sorry for how long I took to answer this ask! I was on holidays in Far North Queensland to be with family - and yes, I am adding a picture cause *Cane Trains!*

To answer your question, I would say unfortunately not. The only preserved line along the old Furness Railway is the The Lakeside and Haverthwaite Railway, which is a heritage railway built along a former branchline of the Furness Railway - however there is a problem with connecting it to the Furness mainline and the NWR.

It's called the A590, which uses part of the trackbed of the former branchline between Haverthwaite and Plumpton Junction.

The A590 sort of blocks all plans to extend the heritage railway to rejoin the mainline, an issue which came up when they were first purchasing the line in the 1960s. Unfortunately, the road makes it rather difficult to rebuild the line and connect the two - however, it is likely that the NWR would have trains that run to the nearest mainline station (Ulverston) and would advertise taking a trip down on a shuttle bus. Might be a nice retirement option for Bertie!

Thank you for your ask!

[stephensmithuk]

The Hound of the Baskervilles: Three Broken Threads

Hat tip to @myemuisemo for another excellent post that covers much of what I was planning together:

Data protection was not really a thing back in 1889. However, paper hotel registers would be something filled in by the front desk staff, not the guest. They would contain details of extra charges incurred as well, all stuff generally done by computer, but you can still buy paper copies today. Particularly for the Indian market, where less than half the population have Internet access. These registers are generally mandatory and in some countries, the data will still be passed to the police when it concerns newly arrived foreigners. That's why they ask for your passport.

Newcastle upon Tyne, the one people generally talk about as opposed to Newcastle-under-Lyme in Staffordshire, was at the centre of a major coal mining area in North-East England, the Durham and Northumberland coalfields being in close proximity. The industry was still employing children - boys as young as 12 could work in mines - and was still a pretty dangerous, not to mention unhealthy industry.

The British economy was heavily reliant on coal, especially the newly built electric power stations. While the railways had a big coal trade for internal transport for domestic purposes, boats also played a big role, either going via canal or down the East Coast of Great Britain to the London Docks. This route would become vulnerable to German attack in the World Wars, particularly in the second war from fast torpedo boats known to the British as "E-boats"; the East Coast convoys are a lesser-known part of the naval war, with Patrick Troughton having served with Coastal Force Command.

The Mayor of Gloucester, like most civic mayors in England, is the chair of the council, elected to a one-year term by their fellow councillors. The current holder is Conservative councillor Lorraine Campbell. It's a mostly ceremonial role involving going to various events while wearing a red cloak and a big hat:

Gloucester's Deputy Mayor is called the Sheriff of Gloucester. There is still a Sheriff of Nottingham, by the way.

The Anglophone Canadian accent was historically noticeably different to an American one and of course had its own varieties. They've gotten closer over the decades, especially due to television.

Sir Henry would have limited luggage space on the ship over, so three pairs of boots would be reasonable. He'd have to ship over anything else at further cost, so it could be cheaper to buy new in London.

Deliveries of telegrams that weren't in the immediate area of the office cost extra. Bradshaw's Guide for Tourists in Great Britain and Ireland would state the nearest telegraph office for a town, as the 1866 edition demonstrates:

Sir Charles' estate was worth around £80m in today's money, but that would not even get him onto The Sunday Times Rich List, which starts at £350m (Sir Lewis Hamilton, i.e. the F1 driver). It tops out with Gopichand Hinduja and his family at an estimated £37.2 billion, whose conglomerate is many focussed on India, but also are the biggest shareholders in US chemical company Quaker Houghton.

Westmoreland was a historical county in Northern England; it was absorbed into Cumbria in 1974, but its area became part of the Westmoreland and Furness unitary authority in 2023.

"Entailed" means that Sir Charles has stipulated in a legal document that the Baskerville estate would have to pass to Sir Henry's heir intact. This was a feudal era practice that has now been abolished in most jurisdictions, with limited remaining use in England and Wales. Simply put Sir Henry is not allowed to sell the house or the land, even part of it. He can do what he likes with the cash and probably the chattels, the movable property like the candlesticks and the toasting forks.

This page covers it in relation to the works of Jane Austen with relevant spoilers:

Borough is another name for the area of Southwark. It got a Tube station in 1890, when the City and South London Railway opened, now the Bank branch of the Northern line. It also is famous for Borough Market, then a wholesale food market under cover of buildings from the 1850s. Today it is a retail market for specialty food; kind of like a farmers' market.

In 1888, the 10:30 from Paddington would get to Exeter at 15:35, a journey of five hours. @myemuisemo provides route maps. I would add at this point, GWR services to SW England went via Bristol, adding a lot of time to the journey, while the LSWR route from Waterloo was a lot more direct. Wags dubbed the former "the Great Way Round". The construction of two cut-off lines allowed the GWR to go via Westbury and Castle Cary.

I will cover the modern day condition of the route in my Chapter 6 post.

The GWR still had some broad-gauge track at 2,140 mm(7 ft 1⁄4 in) left that Brunel had favoured, but this would be finally eliminated in 1892.

Finally, Holmes is referencing the sport of fencing when he learns the cabbie has been given his name. The foil is the lightest of the three swords used in competitive fencing, such as the Olympics.

In an age before electronic fencing equipment, point scoring relied on the eyesight of the umpire... and the honesty of the competitions.

I was in my fencing club at university. I can't say I was that great. I preferred the epee, which doesn't have the priority rules...

[nearestmetrostation]

Nearest Railway Station to Shani Shingnapur: Your Best Travel Guide

Shani Shingnapur, a small village in Maharashtra, is famous for its Shani Temple, dedicated to Lord Shani, the deity of justice in Hindu mythology. Thousands of devotees visit this sacred place every year to seek blessings and experience the unique tradition of the village, where houses have no doors as a symbol of faith in Lord Shani’s protection.

If you're planning to visit Shani Shingnapur and wondering about the nearest railway station, this guide will provide you with all the essential travel information, transport options, and tips for a hassle-free pilgrimage.

Nearest Railway Station to Shani Shingnapur

The nearest railway station to Shani Shingnapur is Ahmednagar Railway Station (AGN), which is approximately 35 km away from the temple. Ahmednagar Railway Station is well-connected to major cities like Mumbai, Pune, Nashik, and Shirdi, making it the most convenient choice for train travelers.

Alternative Railway Stations Near Shani Shingnapur

If you are traveling from different parts of India, here are some alternative railway stations near Shani Shingnapur:

Shirdi Railway Station (SNSI) – Approximately 70 km away.

Pune Railway Station (PUNE) – Around 160 km away.

Aurangabad Railway Station (AWB) – About 130 km away.

Nashik Road Railway Station (NK) – Roughly 140 km away.

These railway stations are well-connected to various parts of the country and offer multiple transportation options to reach Shani Shingnapur.

How to Reach Shani Shingnapur from Ahmednagar Railway Station

Once you arrive at Ahmednagar Railway Station, you have several options to reach Shani Shingnapur:

1. By Bus

Maharashtra State Transport (MSRTC) buses frequently run from Ahmednagar to Shani Shingnapur.

The journey takes about 1 to 1.5 hours.

The fare ranges from ₹50 to ₹100 per person.

2. By Taxi or Private Cab

You can hire a taxi from Ahmednagar Railway Station for a comfortable journey.

The taxi fare is approximately ₹1,000 to ₹1,500.

Shared taxis are also available at a lower cost.

3. By Auto-Rickshaw

If you’re traveling on a budget, auto-rickshaws are available for hire.

The cost is around ₹300 to ₹500, depending on bargaining skills.

4. By Self-Drive or Rental Car

Many car rental services operate in Ahmednagar.

If you prefer driving, rent a car for a more flexible travel experience.

Why Visit Shani Shingnapur?

Shani Shingnapur is a one-of-a-kind pilgrimage site with a unique spiritual aura. Here’s why you should visit:

1. Unique Open-Shrine Temple

Unlike most temples, Shani Shingnapur has no roof or walls; the idol of Lord Shani is placed on an open platform, emphasizing direct connection with the deity.

2. Doorless Houses Tradition

The village is famous for having no doors or locks, as residents believe in Lord Shani’s divine protection.

3. A Spiritual Experience

Devotees believe that sincere prayers at Shani Shingnapur bring protection from misfortunes and justice in life.

Best Time to Visit Shani Shingnapur

Winter Season (October to March): Ideal weather for a comfortable visit.

Shani Amavasya (New Moon Day): A significant day when thousands of devotees gather for special prayers.

Saturdays: Dedicated to Lord Shani, making it the best day for a visit.

Nearby Attractions

While visiting Shani Shingnapur, you can explore these nearby attractions:

Shirdi Sai Baba Temple (70 km) – A famous pilgrimage site dedicated to Sai Baba.

Ahmednagar Fort (35 km) – A historic fort with rich heritage.

Ranjangaon Ganpati Temple (100 km) – One of the Ashtavinayak temples dedicated to Lord Ganesha.

Ellora Caves (150 km) – A UNESCO World Heritage site featuring ancient rock-cut temples.

Travel Tips for Visitors

Respect the Temple Rules: Follow the traditional dress code and rituals while visiting.

Avoid Peak Hours: Weekends and special festival days witness heavy crowds.

Carry Cash: Small vendors might not accept digital payments.

Book Transport in Advance: For a smoother travel experience, especially during peak seasons.

Conclusion

Shani Shingnapur is a must-visit for devotees seeking divine blessings and a unique spiritual experience. With Ahmednagar Railway Station being the nearest railway station to Shani Shingnapur , reaching the temple is convenient and accessible. Whether you're traveling solo, with family, or on a spiritual journey, Shani Shingnapur offers a deeply enriching experience filled with faith, culture, and tradition.

Plan your visit today and witness the divine aura of Lord Shani at this incredible pilgrimage site!

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Catching Out: Part Two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Summary: Spencer has his suspicions about your parents but you refuse to even listen to him. There is nothing going on with your parents... right? No, they’re normal parents that are just overprotective of you. Spencer is just being paranoid.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: So, I know in previous episodes I had mentioned the reader's birthday is in February, but I forgot that when I wrote this episode. I have decided to change it to April since I've also based some other episodes around her birthday being in April. So, from now on, the reader's birthday is now in April.

I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

x

The nearest train tracks around the Modesto home are only a mile away, given it's close enough for the unsub to get off the train and watch the couple he killed for a few nights. There are freight haulers at the train station, and they are willing to talk to you, Derek, Emily, and Rossi when you arrive.

"The guy we're looking for is using freight trains to get around. He targets homes within a mile of the tracks," Derek says after he explained what's going on.

"Bulls and 'bos don't usually cross paths."

"Bulls and 'bos?"

"They call rail cops bulls. We call them 'bos, as in hobos."

"You're saying you rarely see hobos around here?" Rossi asks.

"I see them plenty. To tell you the truth, I'm nothing more than an armed scarecrow. When they see me coming, they get the hell away. Their biggest problem is with each other. If you get two of them in one boxcar, it usually gets ugly."

"So, if a 'bo jumps off one of these trains in a new town, is there someplace he goes first?"

"The jungle. That's what they call the camps. A local one's a couple of hundred yards that way," the man points to where it is.

"Do you happen to have a vending machine in here?"

"Yeah."

Rossi thinks if he has food for them, then they might be willing to tell them what they want to know. Your phone rings, and you step off to the side and answer your boyfriend.

"Where are you?" he asks.

"We're just off Highway 99. We just got done talking to the freight haulers. I think I'm going to drive back up to you and leave them down here. Though, I can tell this area is nothing but crops. There are neighborhoods on one side, and the other are all crops."

"They are farmlands. You can't see that from standard road maps."

"The railway track runs parallel to Highway 99 most of the way. I think I'm seeing a lot of what the unsub saw."

"Most of central California is one big valley. It's a flat basin surrounded by mountain ranges on all sides, supported by rivers, lakes, and aqueducts. It's ideal for farming."

"Well, I don't know what it gets us, but I think we should at least factor it into the conversation."

"I agree."

"I'll see you in about an hour." You hang up on him and approach Rossi who has a couple of candy bars in his hand. "I think I'm going to drive up to Sacramento. You two can handle it down here, right?"

"Yeah. We got it."

"I'm going to come with you," Emily says.

By the time you two get to the headquarters in Sacramento, they are ready to give the profile. Spencer told Hotch and JJ about the farmlands, so they have a better-sculpted profile to give.

"Let's get started," Hotch announces. "I'd just like to reiterate that this unsub is not getting around on Highway 99. His travels are linked near railway lines."

"He's targeted five homes and killed eight people in six weeks. We're looking for a male, indigent transient between the ages of twenty-five and forty-five. He's fit enough for the physical demands of train hopping, or 'catching out' as they call it," you inform.

"He'll be bruised from jumping on and off trains, and he might also be beaten up from just defending himself in any kind of turf war. He may look homeless, but he's taking clothing from his victims' homes. So, he'll be the only transient on the tracks in clean clothing."

"The trains and the rail yards are his home. When he gets tired of these, he chooses a house to make his own," Hotch says.

"He'll have a pronounced red, dry rash around his mouth and nose. It's what's commonly referred to as a 'sniffer's rash'."

"How do you know that?"

"He takes household cleaners and sniffs them," you explain. "We believe he's abusing them as psychoactive inhalants. He'll use nail polish remover, glue, paint thinner, lighter fluid, or whatever is the cheapest high available. They're referred to as 'tollyheads' because they derive a high from sniffing toluene, a chemical solvent. Once inhaled, the effects are felt instantaneously."

"We believe he's living out a fantasy in these homes. The fantasy is that it is his house for the night. He spends hours enjoying the comforts of his victims' homes. Upon leaving, he takes clothing, money, jewelry, and small electronics. If you get close to him, you won't miss him. He will smell like a combination of human filth and paint thinner."

"Please spread this around to the other departments in neighboring cities. Thank you."

The profile is disbanded, and you look at JJ who takes a seat tiredly. She places a hand on her stomach, and both you and Spencer walk over to her.

"Are you okay?" you ask and sit next to her.

"He's kicking a lot today," she chuckles.

"In the third trimester, there's an average of thirty fetal movements per hour. Babies kick to explore movement and strengthen muscle," Spencer explains.

"Have you ever actually felt a baby kick?" When he shakes his head, she grabs his hand and places it over the area where her son is moving. "Do you feel that?"

"Doesn't that freak you out?"

"No, not at all. Why? Does it freak you out?"

"Very much so."

"Okay, I see how it is," you nod.

Spencer looks at you with a weird expression, but you don't say anything more about it. You and JJ lock eyes, and she knows exactly what you're thinking. JJ's phone rings, and she answers it when she sees it's Penelope.

"Hey, Garica."

"Bad news alert."

"Hold on a second," you tell her. "Guys!" Hotch, the detective in charge, and Emily walk in when you call them. "Go ahead."

"Earlier, I had Garcia look into all unsolved burglary homicides in central California while paying particular attention to small farm towns."

"I found his DNA in three more cities."

"How did I miss this?" the detective sighs.

"Small towns don't always link their evidence up to state or national DNA databases. It can happen when unsubs cross jurisdictional lines."

"What are the cities, Pen?" you ask.

"Tehachapi, Vacaville, and Orange Cove. They're all farm towns, and all super far away from Highway 99."

"Thanks, Garcia. Could you look into the farm life surrounding those areas? The sales of the crops, maybe?"

"I'll hit you back when I have more."

JJ gets up and waddles over to the fan that is blasting. The air conditioner must either be out or not working well. Being pregnant is hard enough, so you want to make this as easy as possible for her. You grab some cold water and a damp cloth and approach her with a smile.

"Here. It looks like you need it."

"Thank you."

She takes the water and gulps half of it down before placing the cloth on her forehead. You kneel next to her chair and look at her stomach with a smile.

"May I?"

"Of course."

You place your hand on her stomach, and she moves it to the spot where her son is kicking. Your eyes light up at the feeling.

"I'm not going to lie. I kind of miss this. It was different before, of course, but when I felt my daughter kick for the first time... It didn't matter how old I was or what happened. At that moment, I felt pure joy."

"How is she doing?"

"She calls and texts me, but she has her own life. She knows I'm here if she ever needs me though. With your baby, though, I am going to be the best aunt ever. I'm going to spoil the shit out of him." You realize your mistake and smile shyly. "Sorry. I don't mean to cuss around him."

"Would you consider having babies with Spencer?"

You look behind you at Spencer and Emily, and you can't help the smile from forming on your face.

"In a heartbeat," you say truthfully. "I'd be very lucky to have his kids, and they'd be lucky to have Spencer as a dad. I can picture it now. He'd play chess with them, but our baby girl would want to play with her dolls instead. He'd read them bedtime stories and dance with them to the music on an old radio. He'd perform magic for them because they'd laugh and he'd never want to stop making them laugh."

"You're happy."

"I am. He makes me feel like I'm the only woman in the world. It's why this is so hard with my parents. My dad doesn't like him, and it hurts me. I know he'll come around eventually, but I just wish he'd get there sooner."

"It'll be alright. I know it."

Spencer looks behind him at you and JJ in thought. Emily sees the look he's giving you, so she nudges him.

"Are you considering it?"

"Considering what?"

"Having baby geniuses one day?" she smiles.

"With Y/N? In a heartbeat," he says truthfully. You two have been together for over two and a half years. He's not ready to be a dad, but he knows that one day, he'd love to have some with you. "I'd be very lucky to have kids with her one day."

Penelope calls Spencer back, and he calls in you, JJ, Hotch, and the detective.

"I've noticed in the cities, including the new ones we've discovered that there's a spike in the sales of certain crops during the time the unsub is there. In the last week of August, the apples in Tehachapi spiked. In the first week of September, the tomatoes in Bakersfield rose. In the second week of September, the fall squashes in Fresno were high."

"He's in town whenever there is a big harvest. If this unsub is riding trains from town to town during big harvests who doesn't have a car or permanent residence, then we're looking at a migrant farm worker."

There is news of another murder close to where you are, so you quickly head over there. The murder is still fresh, so the victims are still lying on the ground in their bedroom. You can't look at the victims without seeing the unsub beating them over and over again.

"He left a shirt on his male victim again," Hotch says.

"That's not all he left." Spencer holds up the newspaper that was printed a couple of days ago. The headline reads 'Modesto Couple Victims of Highway 99 Killer'. "This was printed before we released to the press he's using trains to get around."

"He's taunting us, telling us he's smarter than we are because we got his mode of transportation wrong. The more confident he gets, the more he's experimenting with his ritual."

"The first few murders were five to eight days apart. This one was just one day since Modesto. If we don't find him soon, he's killing another couple tonight."

"Okay, this couple is Hispanic. The previous couples were Caucasian. He switched his victim profile," you say.

"I don't think he knows or cares what race they were. I think this house was just an easy target."

Spencer's phone rings, and he places them on speakerphone.

"Yeah?"

"So, we got something," JJ says from the office. "The jewelry stolen from the home in Sacramento turned up at a pawn shop in Modesto. Garcia just sent you a picture from the security cam. The employee said he was about 5'8", slight build, late thirties, and has dark skin with a red rash around his mouth."

"Circulate the picture, JJ," Hotch says.

"I'm already on it."

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[statueofunitytentcity]

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[mariacallous]

Down the road from where I live a friend came across a man tearing down pictures of Israeli hostages. You’ve probably seen the portraits by bus stops and railway stations. Activists print them off from sites highlighting the hostages’ plight and fly-post pictures of the men, women and children Hamas kidnapped.

As the hostages are civilians, my friend asked why would anyone want to destroy their pictures.

He was beaten up for his pains. Defending innocent Jewish civilians makes you an accomplice of Benjamin Netanyahu in London today.

And not just in London. Anti-Jewish hatred in the UK has exploded since Hamas attacked Israel – recorded incidents have doubled.  The violence my friend experienced is still rare, thankfully. But the fear of Islamist terrorism or just everyday thugs running riot is everywhere in the Jewish community, and to a lesser extent in wider society as well.

A drumbeat of stories builds the tension.

Belatedly and reluctantly, the Labour party disowned its Muslim candidate in the forthcoming Rochdale by-election. He had all the usual prejudices, and a few I had not heard about before.

He imagined that “people in the media from certain Jewish quarters” were targeting pro-Palestinian politicians, and that the Israeli state had allowed Hamas to rape, shoot and burn alive 1200 of its people because it wanted a pretext to invade Gaza.

As I am writing this piece, there’s news of a (white) comedian, who describes himself as an “experimental fusionist” and an “absurdist laughter chef,” and is just as stupid as his description implies. In a scene redolent of medieval prejudice, he encouraged the audience at the Soho Theatre in central London to chant “get the fuck out” and “free Palestine” at a Jewish member of the audience.

Incidentally the Soho Theatre is on the site of the old West End Great Synagogue, built at a time when Jews were welcome in London

Before that Rabbi Zecharia Deutsch, the Jewish chaplain of Leeds University, his wife and two kids were moved to a safe house on  police advice after receiving hundreds of death threats.

Online “activists” pointed out the rabbi had served in the Israeli Defence Force, and so presumably any number of violent threats were justified.

The justification, such as it is, would have carried more plausibility if incidents of hatred had not exploded as soon as the news of the Hamas massacres broke in October.  They were celebrations of anti-Jewish violence not a reaction to the violence of the Israeli armed forces.

If you doubt that there are reasons to be frightened, go to your nearest synagogue and see the guards. Or talk to the parents of Jewish children and hear them describe how Jewish schools tell pupils to discard uniforms that allow potential attackers to mark them out as targets.

All of this and much more is causing deep alarm in the Jewish community, and a dangerous reaction among right-wing Jewish pressure groups, who are getting the response to racism about as wrong as they possibly can.

Here’s how.

The Jewish right is caught up in the same paranoid ideology of the rest of the modern British right, and indeed of the Trumpian right in the United States. It sees the woke mind virus everywhere. It assumes that progressives have marched through the institutions and made them borderline antisemitic, if not all-out racist.

In the case of violence against Jews, the supposed triumph of wokedom means that ideologically compromised police officers will not protect Jews by standing up to far leftists and Islamists.

 The Campaign Against Antisemitism, has encouraged its allies in the Conservative government to introduce ever-greater restrictions on rights to protest. This week it was welcoming new punishments for demonstrators who desecrate war memorials (who could already be prosecuted under existing law) and who wear face coverings to conceal their identity.

I do not want to condemn the campaign out of hand. There’s no doubt the pro-Palestinian marches in London frighten Jewish people. Some  90% of British Jews say that they would avoid travelling to a city centre if a major anti-Israel demonstration was underway.

There is no doubt, too, that fear of violence is not just confined to Jews. It is everywhere, although we don’t like to talk about it.

People disappear in ​the UK for offending Islamists, and respectable society looks the other way. Before the rabbi at Leeds University, there was a religious studies teacher at a Yorkshire school. Three-years ago he showed his students a cartoon of the Prophet Muhammad. He still remains in hiding and is unlikely ever to return home.

The UK is nowhere near being the free country it pretends to be. I understand why so many are frightened. That said, you can still look at right-wing politicians and organisations and wonder where they are heading.

While praising Conservative ministers’ trifling changes to the law, which are little better than PR stunts, the Campaign Against Antisemitism denounces the police.

“For months now, we have been asking for tougher restrictions to be placed on these protests, which have made our urban centres no-go zones for Jews. While the police have failed the Jewish community and law-abiding Londoners, the Government, to its credit, is listening. These new laws will help address the mob mentality that we have observed in these protests. There is no justification for such scenes, and now, there will be no legal defence.”

Jewish leaders who work to protect the community told me on condition of anonymity that the attacks on the police make no sense. They consult with officers regularly, they say. The idea that the police are part of some woke conspiracy to ignore radical Islam and turn a blind eye to potential terrorism is ridiculous.

So it is, and it conceals a dangerous desire.

For if you think that conservatives are yearning to ban peaceful demonstrations, you are not wrong. Rishi Sunak and Suella Braverman, his radical right home secretary last year, tried to force the police to do just that.

Braverman fell into anti-woke conspiracy theory and accused the police of taking a tougher approach to right-wing groups than to “pro-Palestinian mobs displaying almost identical behaviour”.

The Met to its credit refused to buckle under the pressure. Officers told the politicians they could interfere with freedom of assembly only if there was a threat of serious disorder, and that the "very high threshold" has not been reached.

The right has not given up. Here is the Campaign Against Antisemitism again.

“The people of this country expect the lawlessness on our streets to be brought firmly under control, and with these changes there are now even fewer excuses for police inaction.”

The attack follows the Campaign’s previous denunciations of London’s liberal Muslim mayor Sadiq Khan (which I covered here). Khan has gone out of his way to defend London’s Jews, but is the centre of a far-right and at times a fascistic hate campaign from Donald Trump and others, simply because he is a Muslim.

Yearning for bans is hopeless from both a moral and practical point of view. Tactically, it is all wrong. I can think of nothing more likely to fuel conspiracy theories about Jewish power than the banning of demonstrations.

If they were turning into riots, it would be another matter, and they should be banned regardless of the conspiracy theories.

But they are not degenerating into riots, and in a free country, people should be free to protest. We do not want to be governed by the Western equivalent of Hamas, after all.

Equally if protestors are not engaged in violence or the incitement to violence, it is a waste of police time suppressing them: police time which – and forgive me if I am labouring the obvious – could be better spent countering authentic threats to Jews and everyone else.

For who on earth do right-wing Jewish groups think stand between them and Islamist terrorism? The Tory party? The comment desk of the Daily Telegraph? A professional loudmouth on GB News?

Or the police service they waste so much time and energy denigrating?