Mists

It is an unsettling feeling to look back at life and ponder the passage of time. It is unsettling to wonder how or why things worked as they did. It has been said that life is a mist, here and then gone. Perhaps the key is to live in such a way that every day is made to count, that every day is meaningful in some way?

In the grasslands of Central Montana, in a small town named Roundup, the mist of the Milwaukee Road's life is slowly dispersing out across the curve of time. The grasses sway and the trees rustle in a warm summer breeze, but the sounds of America's Resourceful Railroad have been gone for many many years. Like the cattle drives that preceded the railroad, lending Roundup its name, quiet is here and life is moving on.

In the tall grasses an old signal stand sits alone with the remnants of a few electrical wires at its base. The insulation is cracked and crusty and their connection to a national lifeline has long been severed. Like other tombstones spread out across the Milwaukee's West, these that remain in Roundup are the fading mists of a line and people who have moved on. A few still stop and take notice of them, but how many? Off the beaten paths, places like Roundup and the Milwaukee Road are where we've been, but somehow, no longer wish to go.

Undeniably, however, these fading signatures of different times still make a difference. I can't explain it, nor even understand it, but I know days I've spent along the route of the Columbian were meaningful and counted for something. I wonder if we would live life differently if we asked ourselves at the end of the day, "what counted today?" It is ironic that even in its life after death, the Milwaukee Road still counts and makes a difference. It fulfills no purpose ever envisioned by those who sent it west, but it remains a difference maker for a few of us nonetheless. On that warm summer day in Roundup, on that day, it made a difference to someone. Now, many years and many miles away, it still does. I guess that's a day that counts for the old girl.

Between Mountain Ranges

Location:  Ralston, WA

The lands east of the Cascades and west of the Bitterroots are remarkable in their variety and beauty.  Between these two ranges lie high desert country, rolling wheat fields, foot hills, massive rivers, tumbling sage, abundant wild flowers, rain shadows, endless skies, and a long, long right of way plotted by America's Resourceful Railroad.

To this land between mountain crossings the Milwaukee Road journeyed.  While other parts of the Western Extension existed in near infamy, this land existed in relative quiet.  Like the lands east of electrification, it existed out of the spotlight and away from many photographer's cameras.  The summer heat is harsh and the treeless plains offer little relief.  The winter is cold and the winds have little to break their howl as they roll across the undulating landscape.

The small town of Ralston sits along the right of way here.  It rests beneath Washington skies as the clouds that break apart over the Cascade Range roll out and across this land.  The grasses sway in the summer winds and the grain elevator watches over the small town.  It's a scene that's played out in thousands of places across the West, and many places along the old Resourceful Railway.  The old station has been removed and placed nearby in a farmer's field.  Half of the building is now collapsed and the paint has been missing for many years.  The grasses have taken over much of the old right of way here as well.  Although it remains part of the John Wayne Trail, maintenance is uncommon and use is light.  Much like the days when orange and black locomotives plied the rails, visitors to Ralston are rare.

For those who travel with the Milwaukee Road between the mountain ranges, places like Ralston are a quiet place to stop and ponder.  Apart from the occasional farm truck that rolls by with a wave, this is a lonely journey in a large world.  There is no safety in numbers here - no constant noise from a nearby interstate, no lights to chase away the darkness of long nights.  Now, all of these years beyond the bankruptcy and abandonment, there is no lonely railroad either - just the traveler and that thick feeling of depth that goes beyond what is simply seen.  This is the land between mountain ranges and between electrifications.  In life, and along the Resourceful Railroad, all part of an incredible journey.   

East of Electrification

Kamm, MT

The end of a hot day in 2003, in the lands east of electrification.  

The Sun Sets West

There was a time, not so long ago, out in the high deserts of Central Washington when the lonesome sagebrush and eerie sunsets weren't quite as alone. Nestled high above the Columbia River in a place named Boylston a railroad built a small station, planted trees, and went about the business of running trains to the West Coast.

The station at Boylston was small and modest, like many others scattered along the rails of The Milwaukee Road. Old photos show Boxcab electrics and infamous Bi-polars climbing the grades here through the Saddle Mountains where Boylston marked the apex. Later photos show SD40-2's pulling hard up these same slopes, the electrification deactivated in the early 70s. The trees are bigger in these later photos and stand in obvious contrast to the desert landscape that surrounds them. This was an outpost on America's Resourceful Railroad, and much like the railroad itself, seemed to exist in spite of the obstacles around it.

Summer in the Saddles still brings hot and dry winds that suck the water out of any creature who braves the midday sun. Tumbleweeds roll across the landscape as they make their way to destinations unknown. The trees planted long ago by a small station named Boylston are tall and remain defiant creatures in this land of sage and sand. But those are the only constants from those old photos. The depot and the railroad have been relegated to memories and that thick feeling of history that beckons from this high outpost above the Columbia River. The sunsets and lonesome sagebrush have returned to the way things were before the railroad got here and that lonseome quiet has returned as well.

But we've got some memories and pictures of a once upon a time, when the sun sank in the west on the old electrified line.

Under a Watchful Gaze

In the Pacific Northwest, the Milwaukee Road had an interesting collection of branch lines with equally interesting histories.  Some were not connected to the rest of the system via Milwaukee rails, but with ferries.  Among these isolated lines was the old Bellingham Bay and British Columbia.  This was purchased by the Milwaukee to increase its footprint in the lush Pacific Northwest.  The line operated 25 miles from Bellingham to Sumas on the border with Canada.  Merger conditions that resulted from the Burlington Northern allowed the Milwaukee to do away with its car ferry and access these lines directly.  Despite the light rail, this line was known to be home to some of the Milwaukee's heaviest diesel locomotives as the fleet wore down and the seventies wore on. 

The BNSF still maintains a presence here along these old Milwaukee Lines.  Now that the paint on their locomotives has adopted an orange and black motif, perhaps one could say that not much has really changed.  Compared to other parts of the western extension, I suppose that not much has:  the rail is still in place here, and the sounds of freight trains can be heard echoing across the corn fields as they roam the small north-south line.

On a beautiful summer day like the one pictured, the watchful gaze of Mt. Rainier watches over the cornfields and old Milwaukee rails.  All along the Western Extension, it is the elements that exist beyond the Milwaukee that remain truly constant and seemingly unchanging.  Where rails have been pulled, towns have vanished.  In many places there remains very little evidence that the railroad was ever there.  In many places there is even less evidence of the people who lived along side it.  Nonetheless, constants like Mt. Rainier continue to dominate breathtaking scenery with which the Milwaukee shared space.  Some have argued that the Milwaukee Road traversed the most beautiful scenery on the continent.  Even off the mainlines and away from the haunts of the old electrics, scenes like this seem to bear this out.

Intervening Years

It's a warm July day in the Idaho Panhandle.  In the yards of the St. Maries River Railroad sits a collection of old cars that could easily be at home in a museum.  Old snow plows are lined up with an old ribside caboose and Hiawatha baggage car that still faintly reads "The Milwaukee Road."  A few ancient log cars are stored here in the yards as well.  They're old beyond the point where interchange is allowed and are restricted to St. Maries track as a result.

Other relics sit about the yards as well - in various stages of livelihood.  What makes them so unique is that they have not journeyed very far from their original stomping grounds.  These yards go back to the time of the Milwaukee Road's western extension and its vision to access the west coast.  The original mainline through town is still used several times a week as forrest products from St. Maries, ID make their way to Plummer and interchange with the Union Pacific.  Large mainline trestles, like the one at Pedee, are still used - a stark contrast to the many others that lie dormant across the rest of the Pacific Extension.

Tucked into a corner of the old Milwaukee yard are the remains of an outside braced boxcar.  Today, it is a tool shed but its paint and markings belie its history.  Still legible on the old boxcar door:  Automobiles.  The old car dates back to a time of large 4-8-4 steamers and mallets that roamed the mainline through town.  Bridging the sections of electrified mainline, these large steamers ruled the St. Joe River Valley and the wandering prairie lands of the Palouse that lay beyond.  Tucked in behind them:  scores of forty foot boxcars like the old one in the photo above.

On this warm July day, the passage of time seems thick with significance.  The old auto carrier tells of a time of fresh new Pontiacs, Oldsmobiles, Plymouths, and other marks that have vanished from the landscape.  The events that have played out in intervening years have left us reminders in the absence of these storied companies and the presence of faded and flaking paint.  Instead of fresh Detroit iron in a new outside braced boxcar, we're left looking at the remains from those old days gone by.  In many respects, relics like this one are a real historical marker.  It's a nod to the past and the ways of those that came before.  It's also a nod to the significance of all of those years that have come and gone between.

A Look Back

There are few places west of the Dakotas where the rails laid as part of the Milwaukee Road's expansion to the coast are still in place.  When found, they tend to be in small segments like the small portions found across the Idaho panhandle or around Othello, WA.  Out in the grain fields of Montana, the story is much the same.  

In this "Golden Triangle," where the Milwaukee pulled a great deal of traffic in its times before retrenchment, most of the old lines are relegated to photographs and memories.  There are, however, a few segments left in operation.  The Central Montana Railroad operates part of the old line that linked Lewistown and Great Falls.  The line now stops well short of Great Falls at Geraldine.  West of Great Falls, the BNSF operates a few miles of old Milwaukee trackage as well.  It is here, just south of a small town named Fairfield, we find some remains that look back at what the Milwaukee left behind.

Broken ties and frost heaves are common on this little used section of the old empire.  BNSF has made some repairs to the line north of Fairfield, but here, on this section that is relegated to overflow storage for the local grain elevators, there has been no such effort.  We see a line that, in many ways, echoes the final conditions of the Milwaukee itself.  The Golden Triangle lines were some of the most important sources of online traffic along the entire Western Extension.  Like everything else, however, the final few years of neglect and deferred maintenance are easy to see in the old steel ribbons.  These were the stomping grounds of ribside boxcars and decrepit SD7s.  Using these old rails to look back, it's easy to imagine the conditions that existed at the end.

Legacy in the Canyon

Under wire since leaving Harlowton, the Milwaukee Road mainline to the Pacific Coast began working its way through a series of mountain passes and river crossings.  The Belt Mountains were the first to be crossed and from there the old Pacific Coast Extension dropped south and west toward Three Forks and the Rocky Mountains that lay beyond.  

The country in this part of Montana is stunning.  From the Belt Mountains, the Rockies rise solemnly in the distance as the mainline bends and twists its way down toward the Missouri River.  The old line follows (for the most part) the path laid out by Montana's Jawbone Railroad that was purchased as part of the Milwaukee's push west.  Small towns like Lennep and Ringling are plotted along the line before it turns into 16 Mile Canyon.

16 Mile Canyon is famous for some of the Milwaukee's publicity shots.  It is here in the canyon that Eagle's Nest tunnel is located.  This was often a favorite photo location due to the close proximity of tunnel and trestle:

Eagle's Nest

As the canyon and railroad wind south toward the Missouri the foundations of the old substation at Francis can be found.  Further south the small town of Maudlow appears around a bend in the creek and the railroad.

Like many other places along America's final transcontinental railroad, Maudlow is a quiet place without easy access to the world that lays beyond.  An old two-story school still stands here along with a collection of other old buildings that remember better times.  A small general store and gas pump remain in the weeds while a few fly fishermen work their way up and down the old right of way and 16 mile creek.  The AC power lines that still traverse much of the old Rocky Mountain Division still wind their way through Maudlow as do a few remaining catenary poles.  Both remind us of the Milwaukee's bold vision - but also serve as testimonies to the reality that befell it.  From growling motors of boxcabs and little joes to the uninterrupted, quiet burbling of 16 mile creek.  From the sounds of gas pumping and activity at the old general store to peeling paint and broken windows.  The demise of America's Resourceful Railroad was more than the loss of a transportation corridor and industry giant.  

On a beautiful summer day like the one in the above photo, all seems peaceful.  The sun is warm and the creek wanders through the canyon like it has since long before the Milwaukee Road arrived along its banks.  In places like Maudlow, however, there's an unmistakable tension and need to remember what has happened here.  As we watch the unfolding and dismemberment of other industrial giants in the current recession, the lessons and outcomes of the past seem especially relevant.  This is the legacy that exists in the canyon, the legacy of Lines West. 

41: The Untold Story

Someone once said (and many have repeated it), that "it's got to be about the going there and not the getting there."

While my last post focussed on tunnel 41, there's an interesting backstory about the going there.  Back in Februrary of '07, a friend and I set about photographing some of the abandoned lines of Eastern Washington.  The Milwaukee Road was included in our plan, naturally.  What started off as a clear and sunny day in the Palouse quickly turned to fog and wet sloshy snow as my buddy's trusty Jeep headed us up into the Idaho panhandle and the resting place of the Resourceful Railroad.  We accessed the old right of way near Plummer, ID and boldly pushed our way through the sticky stuff towards the mouth of tunnel 41.  When the snows grew too deep, we hiked the last half mile and recorded the image that you see below in the previous post.

Our journey out was more interesting than our journey in.  We un-stuck the jeep several times before we successfully turned it and photographed it for posterity beneath the US95 overpass shown in the photo above.  We were within a couple of miles of Plummer at this point, but it would take us the better part of 5 hours to make that short trip.

Coming down off the old right of way on the "jeep trail" the vehicle broke through a thick layer of ice that had overlaid enormous potholes dug after many jeeps before us had made a similar trip.  The cold winter had frozen the water in these miniature lakes and our way in gave no warning of the problems that lay beneath.  We found half the jeep lodged in the deep wheel ruts.  The other half was still up on the frozen puddle that covered the similar trench on the passenger side.  Hours of digging and help from some generous locals with a tow chain passed.  Nothing would dislodge the jeep as its front differential was now dragging against the ground, a victim of not enough clearance.

A tow truck was summoned and a hydraulic winch attached to the front axle made short work of the problem.  Our trusty jeep popped right up and out of the offending hole.  Tired, wet, muddy, and $150 lighter the day ended in darkness with dinner at one of the local US95 cafes in Plummer.  We looked quite the mess, but Plummer didn't seem to mind.  The french fries were hot, and the burger was good.  

41

I don't do a lot of black and white photography.  My first experiences with it were in a high school photo class and since then I've pretty much always shot color.  I migrated from print to slide film when I found the colors were more vibrant and the detail of a 50 speed film hard to beat.  More recently, I picked up digital photography.  It has great detail and excellent sharpness - although it does lack that artistic slide-film quality.  

On a cold spring day back in 2007 I ventured out into the mountains near Plummer, ID.  Plummer was a famous spot for the Milwaukee Road.  At Plummer the connection to Spokane splits from the main transcon and heads north.  Meanwhile, the freight-only transcon continues its westwardly migration out into the rolling wheatfields of the Palouse.  

Before its arrival on some of the world's most fertile soil, the Milwaukee road makes one more pass through the mountains of Eastern Idaho with tunnel 41.  On the western side of the tunnel a small town was plotted named Sorrento, lending its name to the 2500 foot long tunnel as well.  

Overgrowth and undergrowth have become synonymous with the Milwaukee's western extension in the years since abandonment and here, at tunnel 41, that remains true.  The tunnel is long and dark and on this cold spring day the water that slowly drips from the roof collects in stalagmites of ice resting on the old roadbed floor.  Unlike so many of the other long tunnels on the western extension, 41 shows no signs of electrification as it was always located in the "gap."  Trains through here always relied on steam or diesel to wind their way through the treeless Palouse country that exists just beyond the western portal.

The view above is out of the eastern portal, looking back towards Plummer and all of those amazing places that exist between MP 1840.5 (tunnel 41) and Chicago.  On this cold and wet spring day, with the snows still in place and trees bare, the image is essentially a black and white.  One of my few.

Small Towns, Big Railroad

The hustle and noise of big cities seems a far cry from the lonesome quiet that pervades the vast spaces between. Perhaps one of the greatest ways to experience this today is to ride one of the few remaining passenger trains across the great expanses of the West. Chicago bursts with activity on a early afternoon weekday departure. By next morning, trains like the Empire Builder find themselves out in the great seas of open prairie. The expanse under big skies is incredible, broken only by grain elevators and the small towns they stand over.

The Milwaukee Road's journey across the West had all of these elements as well. Long and unbroken expanses of prairie grasses that were separated by small collections of houses and buildings. These little groupings, like Lennep, MT as seen above, made up the prairie towns on the Western Extension. Lennep had a small industry track for the collection of livestock, a school, church, and a few people. The snarl of large electric locomotives and the clickity-clack of transcon freights on jointed rail were what broke the quiet here, but quiet would always return.

Today, old signals stand along parts of the old right of way near Lennep. They have dark faces and unlit lenses that stare blankly at the gravel path left by America's final transcontinental. The Church still stands in Lennep and the remains of the old stock yard and industry track remain as well. The snarl of electrics is gone though, as is the sound of steel wheels on jointed rail. Now the quiet remains unbroken in this small little town and the stark difference of life on the prairie and those big cities is all the more dramatic. Despite the noise and action of the big cities, I feel the pervasive quiet of these small and forgotten towns along Lines West is of greater depth and great reality. It is a reality that is challenging to come to grips with simply because it is so encompassing and so vast. It is a reality that we don't control, one that seemingly exists without us and that, in itself, is difficult to grasp.

Lennep, MT. A small town on a big Railroad.

Progress

There's a sign at the airport in Spokane, WA that welcomes travelers to the "Inland Northwest."  Spokane must be the heart of this country as it's by far the largest city in the region.  It's a major stopping point for today's travelers along I-90 and a fascinating focus point for a great deal of the area history.  

Spokane seemed the logical waypoint for many of the western railroads on their way from the Midwest to Seattle.  Among many other things, Spokane became a cross-roads for these companies.  The Northern Pacific, Great Northern, Union Pacific, and SP+S all had a presence here at one time.  That doesn't even take into account the various lines that were absorbed into the larger companies (like the interurban 'Spokane and Inland Empire' which became GN or the 'Spokane International' which rolled into the UP).  Railroad history is thick here in the heart of the Inland Northwest.

There was a late entry into the city of Spokane as well:  America's Resourceful Railroad, The Milwaukee Road.  Its original line (and mainline) across the state of Washington bypassed Spokane, choosing to remain south of the city.  This brought it through the small towns of Rosalia, Pine City, and along the shores of Rock Lake.  While this line remained the mainline for transcon freight operations to the bitter end, early in the life of the Pacific Coast Extension, the Milwaukee realized the need to access Spokane.   Trackage rights were worked with Union Pacific to allow access to the bypassed city and Milwaukee yards were located to the east of downtown.  

All of this was long, long ago.  The yards the Milwaukee plotted are still used by the Union Pacific today, but little is left of the Milwaukee in Spokane itself.  The passenger station where the Olympian and Columbian called was removed for the World Exposition of 1974 as was the monster steel trestle that carried the UP/Milwaukee across the Spokane River.  The long trench that was dug to accommodate the line out of Spokane to the east of the station has also been slowly filled in.  Just recently one of the last remaining sections has been filled as part of a Washington State University campus project.  Time has a way of changing things, and Spokane has seen some dramatic changes.

A Birds-eye view of downtown Spokane on a lovely summer evening in 2008 shows the city as it exists today.  The UP/Milwaukee route is gone, the Great Northern has been lifted as well.  Trains now share the Northern Pacific line through the city and Amtrak's Empire Builder calls at the old NP station - now also the Greyhound station.  Few vestiges of the old railroads that joined in Spokane's downtown remain while the city itself continues its drive to renew and reinvent.  This view of Spokane can conjure up a host of emotions ranging from the heaviness of history and change to the hope of a city trying to find its new place in the world.  Progress is not always beautiful even if hope is.

Working on a Dream

The Milwaukee Road is famous for a number of things, not the least of which is its bold electrification, famous electric locomotives, and that wonderful slogan, "America's Resourceful Railroad."  Huge trestles and long dark tunnels remain through the mountain passes to this day, reminding the 21st century of dreams from 100 years ago.

Not as famous, but breathtaking in its own right is the Milwaukee's crossing of the great plains - the lands east of electrification.  

The lands east of electrification are lands of Big Sky and open plains.  These are the lands of crystal blue skies and deepest black nights where grasses sway in summer breezes or stand stiffly in a frigid January coating of snow and ice.  Here on the plains the Milwaukee also rolled its trains across the Western Extension.  ABS signals stood in place along the single-track mainline to the bitter end, when dead freights were the order of the day and derailments averaged 1 per day across Montana.  

Earlier days saw the Olympian and Columbian race beneath these same unending skies, through small outposts like Vananda as seen in the photograph.  Like the railroad that once pierced the landscape here, today this small Montana town exists more as a memory.  It is a memory of dreams and high hopes from those who came west with the Milwaukee into these big plains.  Today, in Vananda, the nights are long and the days are lonely, but there was a time when there were people here who believed in something and dreamed of a different future than the present reality.  

When the Milwaukee Road pushed west with the people who would settle the great plains, they were all working on a dream.  

White Christmas

It was a cold winter day in Eastern Washington one Sunday morning, now several years ago. Loading the old suburban up with camera gear, I headed out to one of my favorite photo subjects, just to see a bit of snow fall on The Milwaukee Road. The snow was heavy and thick at Rosalia, but thinned as I worked my way west toward Rock Lake. At Pine City, the clouds broke and the weak winter sun glinted for just a few moments off the old Pine City elevators.

It was a peaceful and quiet morning along the lines of America's Resourceful Railroad, I hope your holiday season finds moments of the same.

Ghosts of Christmas Past

In the cold winter months of 1977, it was announced that the Milwaukee Road would file for bankruptcy. The date was December 19.

The path to bankruptcy had been one in the making for many years, seemingly unavoidable, and without any large government loans or bailouts forthcoming. Perhaps the government was simply not in the mood to form a "Conrail West" made up of the struggling Rock Island and Milwaukee Road. Perhaps the lobbyists that seem to play such a prominent role in the workings of money and policy were simply better funded at the Milwaukee's major competitors.

History records that the line's final winters were cold indeed. Locomotives were borrowed to supplement a dilapidated fleet and movements across the system reflected the deteriorated condition of the lines. The announcement of bankruptcy must have been a crushing blow to the people who relied on the Road to make a living. Perhaps it was expected, but the announcement from the managers to their employees on that day 31 years ago must have been hard to swallow. The cold winter, the dilapidated railroad, the uncertainty of a bleak future, all at a time of year marked by hope and supposed joy. In the warm glow of Christmas trees across small Milwaukee towns in the West sat those who were most effected by the line's bankruptcy, caught in the irony of the season.

That season was a dark one in the history of America's Resourceful Railroad. In towns like Harlowton and Othello, where the job losses were crippling, the shadow cast lingers to this day. This was the Milwaukee's final bankruptcy from which it would never fully recover. The company that proceeded forward would be without it's Western Extension, a so-called "retrenchment" of it's Midwestern core lines. It would also be without it's most profitable lines and its balance sheets reflected the poor performance of the new Midwestern core immediately. A final irony from a railroad that seemed to exist on them.

31 years later, these ghosts of Christmas past haunt other industries in times of financial turmoil and bleak outlooks. Bailouts are available to some, but many people feel the crunch of an uncertain future. Nonetheless, there is something that can transcend the darkness of the moment in the brightness of a holiday season. The Bitterroot Mountains, shown on a cold and snowy day above, no longer echo with the passing of Milwaukee freights, but their beauty and presence remains today as it has since well before the Milwaukee hung its first electric wires over the line. There are reasons for Hope, even amidst the ghosts of Christmas past.