It’s easy to envision ruins as some stodgy, dusty artifact — a pile of collapsed Doric columns, a field of mold-encrusted tombs, or an overgrown garden having swallowed its attendant manor house eons before. These ruins are perhaps far more surprising to the motley that finds them: it’s the wreckage of a 10-car locomotive. The icy steel tracks fade off into the snow (for the locomotive sits mostly buried beneath wind-swept winter), and the blocky beast of a train sits kinked up like a zig-zagged garden house.