All Aboard the Essex Steam Train & Riverboat in Essex, Connecticut

A black-and-white photo of my grandfather hangs on the wall of my office in New Hampshire. There he is in his train conductor’s uniform, a broad smile stretched across his face as he waves down at the photographer from the gangway of a railcar. I thought of this moment as I stood alongside my 4-year-old son on a sunny July morning on the platform of the historic 1892 Essex Station, the headquarters of the Essex Steam Train & Riverboat in Essex, Connecticut.

A deafening roar blasted the morning air, scattering birds and causing my son to cling to my leg. “Is that the train?” he asked excitedly.

At the opposite end of the rail yard, a giant black steam engine emerged through a gray billow of coal smoke. The century-old train hissed and chugged its way down the track before coming to a screeching halt in front of us. The radiating heat from the massive iron boiler hit our faces, and the sweet summer air was filled with the aroma of burning coal and engine oil.

“This is the kind of thing you have to see, smell, and hear in order to truly experience,” said Joseph Cassineri, the railroad’s operations manager. He was standing beside us on the platform, welcoming visitors who had arrived in cars with license plates from across the Northeast and as far away as Ontario.

People’s reasons for visiting here are many, Cassineri told me. “People come because they have someone in their family who worked for the railroad,” he said. “We have people come because they love trains, or because this is the only steam-train-to-riverboat-connection experience in the country. And, I think, people come here to go back to another time, away from the stresses of their daily lives.”

I was struck by Cassineri’s youth, and that of his fellow railroaders, engineer Carmen Vaccarelli and fireman Elijah Jackson. Connecticut natives Cassineri and Vaccarelli started working for the railroad as teenagers in the late 2010s, while Jackson came to the railroad two years ago from the Midwest.

“We’ve been coming here since we were kids,” Vaccarelli said. “We’ve always loved trains, and now we get to do what we dreamed about doing.”

Today, they help carry on the tradition established by the forward-thinking volunteers who started the Valley Railroad Company in 1971. The goal was simple: to reinvigorate the old line that ran near-daily trains between Hartford and Old Saybrook from 1871 into the 1960s. Eventually, Valley Railroad restored more than 20 miles of track through the Lower Connecticut River tidelands. A steamboat leg added more mileage and scenery. The combined journey, which is offered three times a day from May to October, is a two-and-a-half-hour trip that takes visitors on a meandering journey through one of the greatest undisturbed ecosystems remaining in New England.

Soon, my son and I were ushered to our coach car, a beautifully restored 1914 Pullman. Around us sat some 50 other travelers, including young couples, families, and train buffs. A pristine natural world quickly came into focus: the wide expanse of the Connecticut River tidal wetlands, where myriad wildlife, especially birds like cormorants, egrets, herons, and osprey, fluttered into and out of view. The smell of salt marsh wafted through the open windows. A bit later, vistas of old farmhouses and stone walls provided the sense of traveling back in time, to when the train and the river served as the region’s lifelines.

A good 30 minutes into our journey, we came to a whistled stop at Deep River, a town with a maritime history stretching back to 1653. There, we boarded the Becky Thatcher, a replica 1870s riverboat whose white cladding and three decks made it look like something you might have seen chugging down the Mississippi in days gone by.

On board, Captain Grant Westerson, a white-bearded man who has captained the Becky Thatcher for the past 11 years, turned up the energy. “Shout it out!” he exclaimed to the passengers. “Who traveled the farthest to be here today?”

“Italy!” replied one visitor. “Pakistan!” another volunteered. “Greece!” said another still.

The click-clack of the train wheels were soon replaced by the gentle sound of lapping waves and the steady hum of the Becky Thatcher’s motor. My son and I stood on the top deck and watched the river’s landmarks appear one by one: the Chester-Hadlyme Ferry, in operation since 1769; Gillette Castle, atop its stately promontory; the sturdy steel trusses of the East Haddam Swing Bridge; the rolling green of the Seven Sisters hill chain; the white clapboards of the Goodspeed Opera House shining brightly under the sun.

An hour and a half later, we were back on the train, bound for Essex Station. My exhausted son tucked himself under my arm and closed his eyes. As we rolled along, my mind wandered back to my grandfather’s photo. I briefly imagined him walking along the aisle, asking passengers how they’d enjoyed their trip, and it struck me that for so many, trains and boats like the ones we’d boarded today are not mere conduits of history, but a slow and idyllic journey through time. essexsteamtrain.com 

This feature was originally published as “Full Steam Ahead” in the July/August 2026 issue of Yankee.

Ryan Cashman

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