My scariest rail journey was up the Tunisian coast from Gabes to Sousse in 1977 (fortunately I was young, strong and reckless). Our train started at Gabes but filled up immediately as locals on the platform pushed their smallest offspring through the open windows in order to bag whole compartments before the rest of the family boarded the train by more conventional means. By time we’d reached the train it was completely full - compartments and corridors, and although I managed to get my rucksack just inside, the only place left for me was on the steps outside the train doors…
For the next two hours, I rode on the steps tightly gripping the handrail and being very conscious that the track was bordered by very large cacti - further incentive to hang on tight (as if any was needed) was a memory of one of our trains the previous summer in Morocco when two step sitters fell off and were run over by the train (think I’ve posted before on that incident, so won’t bore here with further gory detail).
Eeh, the things we used to do!