Photo (and caption) by Gary O. Ostlund

Against a setting sun, a Union Pacific Railroad shipment of Canadian potash is crossing the Snake River on a 3920′ long viaduct.  The Canadian Pacific Railway exchanges this and other traffic with the UPRR at the British Columbia border northeast of Spokane.  The Joso Viaduct, opened on September 15, 1914, is reported to be the last major “hot rivet” railroad bridge built in the west, although verification is elusive.  The bridge was the centerpiece of a new direct and more efficient U.P. line reaching into the Inland Empire.  The rail is 240′ above the water.  The bridge crosses the Snake near Starbuck, Washington, once an important UPRR town.                       

Building of the four notorious dams on the mighty Snake has flooded the region including some of the bridge piers.  Concrete encapsulates the four tallest piers in the river due to higher water.  This lake is the back pool of Lower Monumental Dam, about 20 miles downstream.               

I used this picture and story in my “railfan Christmas card” in 2000.  As you have seen by now, I do like sunsets and silhouettes.  This shot was taken from the Lions Ferry State Park campground, obviously one of my favorite RV stops.

About a mile upstream is a recycled steel highway bridge.  The state highway department took it apart, piece by piece, transported over a hundred miles and reassembled. That bridge and the ferry it replaced will be a subject for another day.

 

Railroads have long played a major role in the automobile industry, from the era of primitive converted wagons to today’s high-performance cars.  Auto manufacturing is a key market segment for railroads, so train schedules have often been geared to production deadlines and needs.  There will be at least one follow-up to this series.

 The evolution of change in handling finished automobiles is seen here.

Twenty seven loads of “Big Inch” pipe from Kaiser Steel enroute to Wyoming.

 So why the boxcars, fore and aft.  Those empty cars are for crew protection in the event of a mishap along the way.  Those heavy pipes would be like missiles in any kind of sudden stop.  The buffer cars provide at least some level of personal protection.

This scene is just north of Sacramento very late in the steam era, September 1956.  This Southern Pacific train will deliver the cargo to the Western Pacific at Marysville for onward shipment.

The use of buffer cars continues to this day.  100 plus car trains of crude oil, likewise lengthy trains of ethanol have buffer cars behind the power, you no longer see a caboose and the friendly wave from the crew.  Buffer cars today are partially filled with sand to reduce the impact in the event of an accident.

The jury is still out as to the wisdom, efficiency, even the safety of shipping crude via rail or pipeline.  My take is in favor of the rails, as the infrastructure allows flexibility in sources and destinations, on an existing transportation plant.  No need to tear up the countryside and abuse the environment with underground pipe.  Ethanol cannot be shipped via pipeline, so we’ll always that on the rails of barges.

Credits:  photos by Richard E. Lohse as seen in Classic Trains – Spring 2018     Gary O. Ostlund

Mishaps will always be a part of railroading.  These scenes show the old and newer methods of cleaning up a wreck scene.  In years past the railroads owned and positioned “big hooks” and associated equipment out on the line.  Such equipment was always in the ready-mode, warmed up and on the go in a moment’s notice.

In today’s “contract-out” way of doing business, private firms like Hulcher Services are called to the task.  They and other firms have highway transportable lifting equipment on the scene dispatched from numerous locations around the country.  Upon completion of the Interstate highway system truck-transported clean-up equipment allowed the rail lines to reopen sooner.

Note the special tread on the pair of crawler tractor side-mounted lifting machines.   I didn’t use the word “Caterpillar” because their origin could be of a different manufacturer.             

Most railroad roundhouses were round, thus the name, duh!.   However, here in Avery, Idaho we have a unique design dictated by geography.   The narrow valley, with the robust St Joe River immediately behind, made for this unusual building.  Avery was where helper engines were added to assist trains over St Paul Pass, crossing the Bitterroot Mountains into Western Montana.   A two-mile tunnel was dug under the summit.  The history of that event is recorded in the book: Doctors, Dogs and Dynamite.  A good read.

Avery became a key terminal for the Milwaukee Road with crew and engine changes.  440 miles of electrified operations from central Montana ended here.   Westward trains switched to steam, and more recently diesel locomotives.  The line from Othello in Central Washington to Tacoma and Seattle was also electrified.   Monday morning QBs say the 216 mile gap was one of the downfalls for the Milwaukee.   Either way, for 71 years the Milwaukee Road provided “spirited” competition to the NP, GN and UP.

The Milwaukee was the last kid on the block, in its westward venture, necessitating two important facets.  First, the railroad had fewer choices in selecting routes, particularly through mountainous areas;  and second, they rose to that challenge by constructing the most direct, and subsequently the fastest route from Chicago to Tacoma.   In their heyday, the Milwaukee Road ran freight trains from the windy city to the coast in 55 hours.  Amtrak could only wish.

Credits:  Photo by Bruce Black as seen in Frederick W. Hyde’s book:  The Milwaukee Road  – Gary Ostlund

After reaching their goals, and becoming profitable, the western railroads soon made major improvements to their infrastructure. On the western slopes of Snoqualmie Pass the Milwaukee Road crossed six water courses.  The forests provided ample supplies of heavy timber and wooden trestles such as we see here were the result.

Wooden trestles required a lot of maintenance, and were subject to forest fires.  Some were filled like Humpback Creek.  The planking shields the structure from damage when dumping fill.  A hefty culvert allows passage of the creek to this day. The other five wooden trestles were replaced by steel structures, assembled within the confines of the wooden trestles.  Traffic was only minimally disrupted. Somewhere in my “stuff” I have a picture of that work in progress that I will share, someday.

Many years later the westbound Olympian Hiawatha is seen at the same location, about to enter a snow shed, also made out of 12 x 12 timbers.  The locomotive, (a motor in railroad lingo) is one of 5 Bi-polars built by General Electric.  They were unique in that the axles were the armature, no gears.  Other than the clickety-clack of jointed-rail, they were extremely quiet. While traversing the warehouse district of Seattle, with many street  crossings, the engineers were required to keep the bell clanging in addition to using the whistle.

Credits: Wooden trestle: Unk; westbound Olympian: Milwaukee Road photo 

A large high-speed locomotive, like the New York Central’s Niagara 4-8-4, will consume a lot of water.  By volume, the loco will require many times more water than fuel.  At Tivoli, beside the Hudson River, #6009 takes water from a track-pan at 80 MPH.  A Hostler fills the tank to capacity from a water-plug, probably at Harmon where passenger trains from Grand Central Terminal switch from electrics to steam or diesel.

The Central’s marketing and advertising many times, included the phrase the “Water Level Route.”  Chicago-bound trains followed water-courses and avoided any serious grades.  Their posh all-Pullman 20th Century Limited promotional material toted “ride and sleep on the Water Level Route.” 

Track pans were spaced about thirty miles apart for the entire route.  A closer look at the tender clearly shows the enormous length of the 46-ton coal bunker, and the relatively small water compartment. The Niagara needed refueling only once between the “Big-Apple” and the “Windy-City.”

Credits:   Photos by W. A. Akin as seen in Kalmbach’s Steam’s Lost Empire

Submitted by Gary Ostlund

Spotting features:                                      photo- Kalmbach Media           

This is not your ordinary well-manicured railroad R-O-Way (city park..?)  The roadbed is nicely maintained, the ballast is neatly dressed, (little attention is given to most land abutting RR ROW.)  The crossing arm is down as it should be, and we must assume the lights are flashing alternately.  (The crossing arms might be short, as there are no counter-balancing weights.  Perhaps this is a walking trail (in that park) rather than a highway crossing.)

Orange-tipped gas line marker (some rights-or-way are used for buried utilities, phone lines mostly, but this appears to be a line crossing under the railroad).  Rusty – welded, protective barrier made of used “rail.”  To me that means the railroad probably fabricated and placed it there.  (is it protecting a fire Hydrant.?  Seems to be in an unusual location, so close to the rails, yet there is foliage).  Graffiti-laden well-cars.  (the closest being an articulated unit, then a solo, followed by a 5-set, the fifth segment in the shade. Articulated units share a wheel-set between each car.)

Wally-world has gone modern (those containers have been extended to the legal limit of 53 feet, also there just may be an element of “promotion” with such dominant placement.)  It’s Spring or Summer (who can identify the red flowers..?  Can anybody ID the location?)

My friend and advisor, Dave Sprau correctly pointed out that this was a promotional display kicking off new logistics within the Walmart organization.

Gary O. Ostlund  

Being the third day of winter, at least according to the weather bureau, let’s talk snow. With his pack, canteen and camera gear, photographer James A. Turner is ready for another day on Stevens Pass in the Washington Cascades.   The scene is Corea, near the Great Northern’s Martin Creek loop, in 1925.

Turner placed himself properly to one side, looking into the picture, in what must be a tripod, timed picture.  From what I know about him he traveled alone, and did not own a car. He no doubt rode the train from Seattle and managed a drop-off. A man of class, you will see Turner dressed this day with a white shirt and tie.   He was a personal friend of my friend, the late Warren W. Wing, also an avid railfan photographer and book publisher. Turner’s son’s home in Gig Harbor was literally a gallery of his father’s works.

Snow sheds were common in West Coast railroading.   Those vertical beams and sloping roof are solid 12 x 12s.    Providing those today would be nearly impossible.   Is it any wonder why the Great Northern Railway, with miles of snow sheds, invested in the 8-mile tunnel under Stevens Pass.?

There is irony here. Some say if the railroad had not cut down so many trees in their quest to build snow sheds, that saturated snow would have remained in place on those slopes.  Others will say the beams didn’t come from those same trees.   Hmmmmm.

Note the attachment: The eastbound is about to enter the Horseshoe Tunnel.  It will curve to the right, cross another trestle and work its way to and through the upper snowshed.  Turner was standing about where the boxcar is exiting the lengthened snow shed.

Credits:  attachment photo by Lee Pickett, seen in book:  Lines West by Charles R. Wood  – Gary Ostlund.

Before we got used to the jumbo covered hopper cars so prevalent now, grain was shipped in a common 40’ boxcar.  In the early days grain was shipped by the sack.   Bulk grain shipment by rail required the use of a temporary grain door secured inside the doorway.  In the picture to the left, the wooden door has been removed and the men are manually shoving product out the door.

In the other picture, a loaded boxcar is being mechanically tilted and tipped to completely off-loading the product. The car was secured firmly, then raised to about a 45-degree slope, and tipped side-to-side.  The car is lowered and the process is repeated as the other end is lifted.  This time the car will be tilted before it is raised in hopes of the product not refilling the far end of the car.  The whole process was fairly swift, as I recall watching at the Port-of-Tacoma back in the 50s, probably five minutes total. With all those fancy dressers observing behind the protective glass, , and there are no other cars lined up, this appears to be a demo.

Back at the grain elevator before loading, the grain door was secured and heavy paper lining was applied generously to all surfaces.   When loading is complete, the regular sliding steel door could scoot past the temporary grain door and be secured.   More than one loaded grain car arrived nearly empty, days later after bumping along over the clickety-clack. Such happenstance kept railroad claims adjusters busy.  Even one tiny break in the paper, in the wrong place, with tons of pressure, for a week or more, could wreak havoc.  Pigeons and others loved it.

Grain doors only went a little more than halfway up the boxcar door opening, varying some due to the weight and density of the product.  Corn, soy beans, and rice received the same treatment. 

Reportedly, the very last grain-filled boxcars left the elevators in western Oklahoma in the Spring of 1978.  The Missouri-Kansas-Texas Railroad, better known as the “KATY” did the honors.  Why was it called KATY, you ask?  Because the KATY’s New York Stock Exchange ticker-tape symbol was “KT”.

Credits:  photos from the Oregon Historical Society, as seen in the Union Pacific Railroad Historical Society’s Streamliner Fall 2011 issue.

Submitted by Gary Ostlund

The shiny new Budd-built commuter cars are being loaded aboard a ship destined to Brazil.  Brazilian railroads have both broad-gauge and standard-gauge.  These cars appear to be standard, meaning 4 foot – 8-1/2 inches between the rails.  In 1957 Brazil had the eighth-longest rail transport network in the world.

The Budd Company produced a wide variety of passenger equipment including the popular dome cars that AMTRAK retired.  Personally, I liked to be able to see forward, over the top of the train as it careened across the country, even after dark.

Why the arrow, you ask.?    The arrow is pointing to the rear mast.  Large ships of the 20th Century were built with the pilot house and creature comforts, amidships.  Most had two masts forward and a single astern.  Notice the upper portion of the single mast astern is blackened.  This was typical, as was the forward masts and bow of ocean-going ships painted white with a large band from the most forward point back to the first step along the gunwales, (the top edge of the side of a boat).

The reason for the blackened rear mast and the bright white forward was to provide a vivid image from afar during daylight hours.  It’s a big ocean out there, and your eyes can play tricks on you.  It’s extremely important for the helmsman to know precisely the attitude of any nearby traffic.  From the bridge of your ship when you could see the white bow and super-structure, you knew the far-off ship was facing you.  In hours of darkness red, green navigation lights provide the visual.

Large ships built today usually place the pilot house and all amenities positioned at the stern.  Some of the reasons:  from the stern the Captain has a better feel of control, particularly when docking, and the propulsion source is near the propeller, eliminating a lengthy drive shaft and housing that could affect the lading capacity.  Photographer unknown

From Gary O. Ostlund

 

Yes, that’s the bell, mounted behind the cow-catcher, or more officially, the Pilot.   Whether the bell rotates with an independent clanger, or mounted rigid and mechanical, is unanswered.  Perhaps a New York Central aficionado will set the record straight.

There is a very good reason why the bell would be placed somewhere other than on top of the boiler, typical on most steam locomotives.   Clearances were tight on the NYC and most others in the east.   Early railroad infrastructure was built to a smaller standard, and as trains got longer and heavier the motive power and rolling stock grew in size.  Lineside obstructions could be moved, but tunnels were unforgiving.

If we could see the of the top of the boiler, you would notice that smoke stack, whistle and other apparatus is also very low profile.  Clearance issues is the reason dome cars were virtually nonexistent in the northeast.   Double stack container trains were also late in coming to the east coast railroads for the same reason.

The loco above is one of New York Central’s finest, a Niagara 4-8-4 #6011 built by American Locomotive Company.   Those smoke-lifting wings gave them a sleek appearance.

Credits: photo by Ed Nowak – NYC,  as seen in Classic Trains magazine, Summer 2013

Submitted by Gary O. Ostlund

 

I couldn’t resist.   We’ve had high nineties for what seems to be forever, and today only 90.    So just to jog our memory of cooler climes,  this January 1979 scene seemed like a nice idea.    I feel cooler already.

The eastbound is exiting one of two wooden show sheds along Lake Keechelus.  Interstate 90 occupies the shoreline across the lake.   Snoqualmie Pass and the 11,789 foot tunnel are a few miles behind the train.  The vertical milepost number 2112 indicates the miles to the bumping post at Union Station in Chicago.

Everything except the power poles in this scene are gone, track, sheds and all.  Yours truly became the proud owner of the salvaged the milepost sign after the abandonment.   The right-of-way is owned by the state parks system,  and great for hiking and biking in the Summer, and cross-country skiing in Winter.

Credits: Picture by Jay Lentzner from the book “The Milwaukee Road,” by Frederick W. Hyde.  Submitted by Gary O. Ostlund, gary.ostlund@att.net, Pinehurst, NC

 

 

Way back when, few insurance companies would write policies for railroaders  —  their jobs were considered too risky.   Early in the 20th Century (and before the various “Safety First” campaigns that we still see today),  a dozen railroaders – on average  —  died on the job each day.   On any given day, tens or hundreds more were injured or maimed.

So railroaders set up their own group insurance plans and mutual benefit associations.  The idea of a pension was not new.  But an industrial pension program so that employees could expect to retire (rather than work until they died) was largely a railroad innovation.  The first plans emerged in the early 1880s and led to the creation of the Railroad Retirement Board in 1934, which was the model for the Social Security Act a year later.

Credits:  Pix and text from Working on the Railroad, Kalmbach 2011 – Submitted by Gary Ostlund

 

At 70 miles per hour, this Kansas City bound Piggybacker will disappear across the Oklahoma prairie as quickly as the sky darkens in the vivid sunset.  You probably have never heard of Avard,  but to a railfan, this is a “hot spot.”   This line in northwestern Oklahoma was the Santa Fe mainline.  Now as the Burlington Northern Santa Fe’s “Transcon,” these rails see more action than ever, over a hundred trains a day.  Gary Ostlund