Lost Rail

Peaceful Snows on a Transcon

2011-12-29T18:49:00.000-08:00

Before taking leave from the Midwest and pursuing the abandoned transcon of the Milwaukee Road, I knew the Santa Fe's own road west quiet well. Well, to be completely accurate, I knew the BNSF Transcon through Illinois quite well. A decade ago there were still quiet a few traces of ATSF to be found, however. Warbonnets were found with some regularity, some even "unpatched" and wearing their original Santa Fe numbers and heralds.

Edelstein Hill was a favorite spot of mine to watch trains roll out on the high iron. This grade up out of the Illinois River Valley was harsh, and steepest on the line anywhere east of the western mountains. The surrounding Midwestern landscape was typical but beautiful. Fields of corn in the summer gave way to winter browns and then white winter snows as temperatures plummeted. These pictures are just a few taken one winter afternoon during an Illinois snowfall.

One of the most striking things about fresh snow fall is how quiet everything is. Cars that pass seem to roll by with nothing but a "whoosh" sound. Even the trains on Edelstein Hill felt more subdued that afternoon. As I reflect on the Midwestern snows, I'm reminded of their silence and pristine beauty. The silence of falling snow is breathtaking and often a welcome respite from the noise that surrounds us most of the time. As we roll quickly into a new year, I hope you find times of Peace and silence to enjoy.

The Years and Miles of Decembers Past

2011-12-09T06:53:00.000-08:00

Many, many miles ago, it was a dry and hot summer in the Eastern Montana Badlands. The land was baked in the heat of the arid day. I had come this way to see what was left and to track the remains westbound across the state, following the old Milwaukee Road along the course laid out many years before. It was a day about as far removed from December as possible, and yet, a day that was inexorably linked nonetheless.

December 6, 1960 saw the Milwaukee Road file an ICC "train off" petition for it's famed Olympian Hiawatha. There would be no more Super Domes to the Emerald City, and the remnants of the service would be cut back to Deer Lodge before a complete annulment. There would be no more scheduled passenger service over some of the best engineered railroad on the continent, maybe the world. The rising Saddle Mountains from the Columbia River basin, the Cascades, the Bitterroots, all would be left to the haunts of freight trains - and those only for a short while longer.

December 19, 1977 marked the Milwaukee's final entrance into bankruptcy and one that it would never exit. It existed as a diminishing enterprise for a couple of years following, but would leave the North Coast and Northwest it had boldly pursued 70 years before. What followed was politics, scrappers, and the scars of America's final Transcon. Whatever dream it was, it had come to an end and there would be no more trains over the best engineered railroad on the continent. Maybe the world.

December days carry some tough reminders of the things that were and what's been lost. The bleak mid-winters can carry haunts that span the years and miles -- even to a hot and sunny day out in the Montana Badlands. Here, close to the infamous Custer Creek disaster, one of the railroad's old bridges bakes in the hot sun. The smell of old creosote still wafts in the air and sunflowers and wild grasses keep the line company. Come December, the flowers will be gone and the bridge will withstand another harsh winter of sub-zero temperatures and blowing snow. Unlike the finality of the Milwaukee Road's Decembers, however, the flowers and grasses will return as the Badlands return to life.

Thanksgiving and Nothing Could be Finer...

2011-11-24T14:31:00.000-08:00

In the years of railroading's past, holidays and holiday meals were something of an event. Those were curious days by today's standards: dining cars employed chefs who cooked on stoves and ovens using fresh ingredients from along the way. The Northern Pacific, for example, restocked dining cars with fresh fruit from Central Washington as trains made their way through. Railroads had their own recipes that made their dining cars famous and specialties that set them apart from competitors. Moving people was important, and the business of railroading reflected that.

The holidays had their own menus in many dining cars, reflecting the best meals for travelers who found themselves out on the rails. For many years, even Amtrak changed its regular meal plan to offer special holiday turkey for Thanksgiving. The picture above reflects one such holiday specialty: Alaskan Railroad Cranberry Pie. It is a thing of beauty, and has become a tradition for our friends and family many years after it first pampered travelers in dining cars long forgotten. To compliment this rare cranberry delicacy, a Fred Harvey apple pie is sure to round out a Thanksgiving meal.

I hope you find reason for Thanks this holiday season - and try some of your own railroad recipes if you feel so inclined. They are a unique way to look back to times when things were just a bit different, and truly, nothing is finer than some old forgotten recipe from a diner.

Spring Creek Sunsets

2011-11-02T15:37:00.000-07:00

Location: Spring Creek Trestle, near Lewistown, MT. 2005

Big events change things quickly, but the accumulation of small changes mark the years and decades just as effectively. The sun comes up and the sun goes down: one day leads to the next as a mix of change.

Every so often, there appears just a few years of stability when the reliability of the status quo seems unshakable. Recently the expectation of burgeoning productivity and expansive wealth have been questioned, though for years they marked the American Dream. Cheap energy was a hallmark of the U.S. as was its ability to manufacture products for domestic and global consumption. For years the railroads owned the landscape and mail was always delivered by RPO car. Today the RPO is long gone, and the unique Saturday delivery that as marked the USPS seems destined to follow it into history as well. Many of the towns that were served by these institutions are depleted or vanished.

There was a time, during one of those periods of stability, when a sunset along Lines West marked the end of the day across the Milwaukee's extension to the West Coast. It foretold the dawning of another with the usual activities spread out across the system. The coming day would see locals and patrols out along the lines exchanging grain cars in the Golden Triangle, or serving the railroads and industries of Butte. It would be another day of pace-setting manifest trains burning miles from the big ports of the coast to the central U.S. A day of electrified power across the mountains, of sleek passenger trains that rivaled any in the West out amidst scenery that was second to none. There was a time when a beautiful sunset promised another day out along America's final transcon.

Today the changes have accumulated, and the perceived stability is benched in quiet abandonment. Above, the Spring Creek Trestle bears witness to another end of day - but is listed as unusable and the lines that it connected in Lewistown are gone anyway. One day, probably not in the distant future, it will share the same fate as all of those other institutions that litter the historical landscape. A sunset over Spring Creek promises another day, but merely edges ever closer to an obvious conclusion. It is always tempting to gaze at the span of only a few years and feel secure in the stability that surrounds us, yet there are quiet places that shout out the opposite is true. A sunset on Spring Creek Trestle is one of them.

Famous Goodbyes from the Energy Crises

2011-09-29T21:30:00.000-07:00

There was a time, now many years ago, when there was a different economic malaise, a different energy crisis, and a different set of hard choices. For the Milwaukee Road, this energy crisis of the mid-seventies produced an interesting result: the decision to maintain electrified operations across the Rocky Mountains through June of 1974. The original plan had the juice turned off in 1973 so this represented a stay of execution, but not a lasting reprise. For reasons that are not always clear, the electrification was turned off and the Milwaukee Road turned to newer diesel power for its trains across the Rockies.

Ironically, the final costs of new diesel locomotives to replace the scrapped electrics, combined with ever increasing fuel costs of the energy crisis, cost the Milwaukee dearly. Detailed studies of this decision, as well as original GE economic analysis can be found here. Particularly troubling is evidence that the Milwaukee actively misrepresented operating data to make the case for electric abandonment. Maintenance costs for locomotives were stated incorrectly, and without regard to the rising fuel costs, electric operations were 40-60% less costly then Milwaukee diesel operations (source).

But that was all a long time ago. When the power was cut and the wires came down, the electrification was gone and the fuel crisis soared. It remains a memorable and regrettable goodbye from the days of the energy crisis.

The electric locomotives were replaced with a new order of SD40-2s from General Motors. These locomotives reflected the times. They were produced with 16 cylinder, 3000 Hp diesel engines that shed 4 cylinders and 600 horsepower from the previous SD45 locomotive design. Fuel economy was increased and the reduced length diesel resulted in improved reliability. These new locomotives became a mainstay of locomotive fleets across the country in general, not just within the Milwaukee Road stables. Pictured are Chicago Northwestern variants, still working hard in their third decade of service across a wintry Iowa landscape in the mid 90s. Built on the same frame as the SD45, these locomotives have lengthy "porches" at either end. The smaller, more efficient diesel engine allowed the shorter hood which remains not just an identifying feature, but also a small reminder of the times that produced them.

Today these SD40-2 locomotives are still found in various types of service though their numbers are falling. Recent products from GE and Electro-Motive have added computer controls, advanced fuel delivery systems, and more horsepower without damaging the all important fuel consumption characteristics. Many of these old locomotives now find themselves in slow speed yard service with reduced horsepower ratings. It is a far cry from their early days when they were "the best." Their goodbye continues after spanning the years from one energy crisis to another.

It wasn't just the railroads that experienced some motive power downsizing. Automakers were faced with similar problems and the enormous American cars that were so popular through the 60s and early 70s began to shrink. When Chevrolet introduced its new Impala sedan for 1977, it was truly small compared to the outgoing model. As part of the times, Ford introduced a smaller "large" car in 1978 on the so-called Panther platform. The Panthers would span decades, just like SD40-2. The names were varied, but the platform was a constant: there was the Ford LTD which became the Crown Victoria. Much of this sheetmetal was shared with the Mercury Grand Marquis. Even Lincoln sold a Panther in the form of the Town Car. Within the last few weeks, Panther production has wound down and the final Crown Victoria has rolled off the assembly line. It has been an incredible run for a design that has spanned decades. In the photo above, Panthers from various generations bask in the sun atop their full-length frames.

With the demise of the Panther, the U.S. no longer makes a rear wheel drive car mounted atop a full frame. Although the design was developed during the previous energy crisis, the extra mass of the frame and overall size of the car make it difficult to meet ever tightening economy standards in this present crunch. GM ceased production of its own body-on-frame passenger cars in 1996, leaving only the Fords as mainstays of police forces and cab companies everywhere. Now even those are singing their own goodbye song and the days of smooth-riding American v8 passenger cars continue to fade.

These are ends of eras in many ways. Things that were spawned in the 70s in response to the economic challenges of the times are giving away. Time and ever increasing efficiency make locomotives like the SD40-2 or vehicles like the Crown Vic dinosaurs in a land filled with new options. These products displaced famous faces when they debuted - from the quad headlight nose of the Little Joe, to the full size Caprice convertible, they replaced them. Now these reminders of that previous time and previous generation are passing as well. Their replacements carry names like Taurus or SD70ACE but it seems unlikely that these replacements will have the same staying power.

The past few decades have seen two distinct energy crises, and spawned innumerable famous goodbyes. Today we acknowledge just a couple more.

Historical Scars

2011-09-09T07:36:00.000-07:00

At the peak of railroading in the United States, over 250,000 miles of track crossed the continent (source: ICC). More than 180 Class 1 Railroads were operating by 1930 (AAR). The next 80 years would see a dramatic reduction in these numbers, brought about through rationalization of duplicate lines, corporate mergers, and outside pressures like affordable air travel and the Interstate system.

Often left behind are remnants of these original companies and rail lines. They exist in large cities and small towns alike. Dearborn Station in Chicago still stands, but the multitude of railroads that used it daily are gone as are the tracks and station platforms. Shops and a small park now take their place. Countless abandoned grain elevators still dot small towns where tracks used to connect them. A few still offer storage and service via trucking, but more are just silent hulks. Large or small, these are relics of that railroading peak 80 years ago.

Between the towns and cities lie other remembrances: the landscape scars. They are a cut that still exists in the side of a hill, or tunnel that gapes darkly at the surroundings. A small bridge over a little creek, or gravel atop a culvert. Line side poles sometimes follow these scars along, although time has brought many down one way or another. They are not always obvious - it's easy to quickly drive by these disturbances in the land without giving a second thought. Many have also been tilled into surrounding fields or simply overcome by the vegetation that surrounds them. Nature continually works to rework and reclaim.

The picture above is the Milwaukee Road's Pacific Coast Extension, just east of Rosalia, WA. Here, the poles are in place and the cut in the side of the Palouse hill nicely marks the line traced out in the early 1900s. Old tunnels and bridges abound nearby as the line sets its sights on the Bitterroot Range just to the east. These are the historical scars that mark some part of the way things used to be. Things weren't always better, but they were different. From big city stations to cuts in the hillsides, they're good reminders of what went before.

Decades in the Making

2011-08-18T15:00:00.000-07:00

The year is 2005 and a hot summer's day finds the photographer with Velvia slide film and an old Pentax camera pointed Railroad East. The blues and greens that are captured by Fuji's high saturation film disguise the 100 degree temperatures and hot breeze that reside in this western mountain valley. To the left and right, the old Northern Pacific mainline to Northwest Coast enters and exits frame. In 2005 the NP is home to the Montana Rail Link and its unique fleet of sd45s, a few remaining semaphore signals, and (as always) a close proximity to America's Resourceful Railroad.

This is Huson, MT. Huson was located at milepost 1662.2 on the Milwaukee Road - just over 1660 miles from Chicago's Union Station. The Milwaukee's mainline to the West Coast lies directly ahead of the camera and under foot in this 2005 photograph. The feeder lines to the Milwaukee's network of substations and overhead DC power still mark the old right of way's northern edge, but the grade-level crossing with the NP is gone.

In 1979, Wallace Abbey photographed this location from the back seat of a 1970s era Suburban hi-railer. His trip began in Tacoma and journeyed east along Lines West. The photograph below is just one of many that record the state of the Milwaukee Road main as the 1980 liquidation loomed.

More than a quarter century separate the views and much has changed, though the photos also show elements where time's influence has been less dramatic. The mountains that form the backdrop show the same profiles and dry slopes. The Montana blue skies are there, and even the nearby farm has many of the same buildings left in place. Most obvious, though, are the AC power lines that mark the right of way and the old NP that still crosses the Pacific Coast Extension. These two views of MP 1662.2 have been decades in the making.

Special thanks to RailroadHeritage.org for use of this W. Abbey photo from their collection. Both views are available online at their website with additional background and information: 2005 1979

All the Romance of the American Railroads

2011-07-28T15:13:00.000-07:00

The train was slowing down. They slid past sidings full of empty freight cars bearing names from all over the States – ‘Lackawanna,’ ‘Chesapeake and Ohio,’ ‘Lehigh Valley,’ ‘Seaboard Fruit Express,’ and the lilting ‘Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe’ -- names that held all the romance of the American railroads.

‘British Railways?’ thought Bond. He sighed and turned his thoughts back to the present adventure.

From: I. Fleming, Live and Let Die, 1955

It's been a long time since that unexpected piece of prose landed in the novel, Live and Let Die. It was a romantic look at the American Railroad experience from an unexpected source, though its heartfelt poetry is undeniable. It's easy to imagine yourself in Bond's place, rolling south along the Eastern Seaboard as those names that speak of far away places on 40 foot boxcars flick by outside. Now, more than 55 years later, all of those names are consigned to the historical record. In some bit of irony, the fictional character of James Bond has outlived them all.

Two pictures here show two distinctly different places and days but share the same story. On a cold and sunny day in Bovill, ID the remnants of the Milwaukee Road's line into the forests of the Idaho Panhandle is remembered by a set of forlorn highway flashers. The little town of Bovill itself feels tired and run down as well. Milwaukee Road mallets used to ply the rails here, and passenger service extended from the mainline at St. Maries, serving the old logging communities. For many years the rails to Bovill have been paved over, only recently have they been deactivated all the way from St. Maries South.

On a blisteringly hot day, many miles removed from the cold winter winds of Bovill, an old passenger station stands in the small Kansan town of Bazine. The side door is still clearly marked, and on the peak of the A-frame wall the old Santa Fe emblem is just legible. A 100 degree wind howls about the old building and down the vacant streets of the small prairie town. The main street is wide by today's standards but sized to turn the horse-drawn transportation of an era long ago. Like Bovill, the best days are behind the small town and what's left recalls something that hasn't been seen in a long time.

The past decades have changed something. It's something you can see in the empty towns that dot the big prairies of the west, or those forgotten logging towns of the Rocky Mountains. It's seen in the abandoned railroad stations that cling to existence along rusty rails that used to glisten on blistering sunny days. Where interurban lines once crisscrossed Midwestern corn fields, or where a casual rise in the ground still extends to the horizon line. "All the romance of the American Railroads," on which Bond mused so long ago, is gone. Although that is likely only a small piece of the overall puzzle that finds small towns vacant, jobs evaporated, and branch lines abandoned.

Significant Dates

2011-07-06T14:42:00.000-07:00

The day was July 4th, the year was 1909.

The Milwaukee Road had been working on its Pacific Coast Extension since 1906 and by 1909 had finally achieved its goal: the PCE was connected end to end. On July 4th, regular freight service started across the West on the newest, and for America the final, transcontinental railroad.

The Milwaukee did its part to spurn a new round of western settlement. Small towns were generated along the mainline and out along the branches as well. This settlement and renewed interest in farming coincided with other parts of the country: the prairie lands of Kansas and Oklahoma were experiencing above average rain falls and the price of wheat was increasing dramatically. It is interesting to consider all of these events actually playing out at the same time across different parts of the country. The booming economy would crash 20 years into the future, but in 1909, the West raced onward and upward.

The picture shows Choteau, a small farming town out on the Montana Golden Triangle. In this 2007 picture, thoughts of an Independence Day 98 years in the past are hard to come by. Still, the events of that day provide some foundation for the remnants at hand. Many of the Milwaukee rails are in place through town and even a Milwaukee standard switch stand rests colorfully by the rails. In times past, ribside boxcars would roll out of Choteau heading south and then east to Great Falls. From Great Falls, it was a trip out across high coulee trestles and rolling grasslands to Lewistown, then south to the mainline at Harlowton. Like the mainline, much of this feeder network is gone, even the existing remnants have been ravaged by floods and their future is uncertain.

July 4th marks a significant day in the life of America's Resourceful Railroad, but it is a harsh world where the things that were meant to last forever prove to be as transient as everything else.

Lonely Branch in the Dustbowl

2011-06-15T16:33:00.000-07:00

The vast spaces of the Great Plains are a barren and unforgiving landscape, but beautiful in their starkness and profound in their emptiness. This photo of Southwest Kansas is Dustbowl territory, and on this particular day it feels like it: sustained winds of 40mph and temperatures of 100 degrees.

Lost in this sea of emptiness is a lonely old branch of Santa Fe origin. It is a thin ribbon that still plies these great plains, connecting what is left of the small towns beneath hot and endless skies.

Calling at Butte

2011-06-07T18:00:00.000-07:00

Some have offered the roaring 20s as the "Golden Age" of U.S. passenger rail. The famous named trains that were born from this general era are numerous and memorable. The 20th Century Limited, the Broadway Limited, the Phoebe Snow, the Chief, and Golden State Limited are only a few of these famous trains that arrived during the first quarter of the twentieth century. Long forgotten are the innumerable unnamed trains that existed only as numbers, but branched out from the country's main lines and connected the small towns and places scattered off the beaten paths. Many of these were mixed freights, comprised of only a passenger car or two and freight cars that were switched at the small towns along the way. At its peak during WWII, the U.S. passenger train network accounted for 90 billion passenger miles.

Like the other railroads across the United States, The Milwaukee Road took an active roll in passenger railroading's golden age. Grand stations were built across the Pacific Coast Extension. These included towered and ornate stations at Butte, Missoula, and Great Falls in addition to the numerous smaller wooden stations built in the new towns now linked in to the great U.S. rail system. The original station at Butte is still located downtown, a proud structure that recalls those days of travel by rail. It was designed as a "stub-end" station. Instead of being located directly on the mainline, it was served by a "Y" that split from the main and terminated at the station. This required passenger trains like the Olympian and Columbian to come off the main and back into the station where they were serviced.

Throughout the second half of the twentieth century, passenger rail declined in use and route miles. Roads improved, vehicles became more accessible to a growing middle class, and air travel cut time dramatically on long distance trips. Thousands of stations were abandoned, and countless trains were lost forever. The vast passenger infrastructure system that defined American travel during the first half of the century was wiped out. Milwaukee Road passenger trains were no exception. The final run of the Olympian to the West Coast was in 1961 when its terminus was cut back to Deer Lodge. Another casualty of the times was Butte's unique stub-end station. To save time and cost, a smaller station was constructed directly on the mainline. The final passenger trains operating on Lines West would call here, at this second station. Its construction reflected the times and the money available to continue passenger services. The cache of large ornate entrances to American cities was gone, and the cost to maintain and operate them was not lost on the railroads of the time. Today both stations still stand in Butte and point to two very different times in U.S. rail travel. Not far from either, Interstate 90 roars by as the modern replacement for both.

End of the Line

2011-05-13T18:53:00.000-07:00

To the west, the tops of the Rocky Mountains peak above the end of prairie land in Big Sky Country. Not far from here, a parade of RVs and sightseers make their way to Glacier National Park, nestled in beautiful mountain wilderness. That was Great Northern territory. For the Milwaukee Road, the end of the line in Montana was here - at Agawam.

The Golden Triangle area of Montana was one of the most lucrative on-line revenue producers for Lines West. Fleets of Ribside boxcars and Federal Yellow hoppers rolled from these plains to the mainline at Harlowton. At Agawam, two elevators still mark this end of track. Grasses grow thick among the ruins here, as cars old enough to remember days of orange and black plying light rail rest beside them. There are a few places out along the haunts of the Milwaukee Road where visitors can see time - and Agawam is one of them.

Many have marveled at the beauty of God's creation in the Rocky Mountains just to the west. Today Glacier continues to be a popular stop, and for good reason. But these wide plains and big skies that surround Milwaukee's old end of the line - somehow seem just as amazing, and just as breathtaking in their own distinct way. On a day when the grasses rustle in a summer breeze it is the still, small voice that calls.

Guts and Hustle Muscle in Montana

2011-04-28T20:53:00.000-07:00

It's been a few years now, but there was a time not so long ago when solid sets of 20 cylinder diesel locomotives could be found pouring their guts out doing what they always did best. Even further back than that, these beasts could be found on railroads across the entire U.S. When these pictures were taken the year was 2005 and there were but a few remaining daily users. The SD-45 (and its close relative, the F45) was quite a machine, and Montana Rail Link used them as they were always intended, even in their fifth decade of service.

"Hustle Muscle" was the nickname applied to first SD-45, owned by the Great Northern. Other nicknames have included flare-45 because of the unique flared radiators at the rear of the unit. These flared radiators were necessary to provide the extra cooling capacity for the large 20-cylinder diesel that EMD installed under the long hood. The 20 cylinder diesel made only a brief appearance in the EMD lineup and sales of the 45 series locomotive lasted from 1965 to 1975. The SD-45 itself bowed in 1971.

In 2005, the Montana Rail Link began replacing many of these old 45s with new locomotives from EMD. But in the summer of 2005, sets of 45s still roamed freely along the former NP tracks in Montana and Idaho. I set out to photograph some of these big units at work, and found them to be as impressive in 2005 as they must have been in 1965. Standing trackside on Bozeman pass, the 20 cylinder diesel engines gave a deep, chest pounding feel as they pushed loaded coal trains to the summit at 10 mph. This was pure mountain railroading, from the era of the muscle car.

Today's MRL still attacks the grades laid down by the NP as it made its way across the Rockies to the West Coast - but the solid sets of SD45 helpers are gone. In their place a new "flare" has filled in, but like many things, the new version doesn't seem to have that same old-time panache.

The new 4300Hp locomotive uses the extra capacity of flared radiators to keep temperatures in the 16-cylinder diesel lower for reduced pollutant formation. That, of course, was never a consideration in 1965. Fuel efficiency was another point where the 20 cylinder 45s lagged. Indeed, their production ceased with the coming of the 1970s fuel crisis. What's interesting on both counts, however, is that both the original 20 cylinder SD-45 and its replacement, the 16-cylinder SD70AcE lack the brute power of the 5000 Hp Little Joe. Now that was Hustle Muscle.

Badlands

2011-04-12T15:03:00.000-07:00

The pages of many books are filled with images of America's final Transcontinental railroad. They show high mountains and electric locomotives from the West, or perhaps vast corn fields and grain trains from the Midwest. Streamlined Hiawathas that were photographed at speed through Wisconsin countryside are reproduced faithfully. Little Joes engaged in an assault on the Bitterroots show the grittiness of a heavy mountain railroad as sand flies from around the running gear. Wherever the locale or whatever the subject, most of the images recall a Milwaukee Road that doesn't look anything like this: the Badlands.

The Badlands are a harsh environment. Filled with dry sage and dry hills, these inhabit eastern Montana as part of the Milwaukee's journey west. Shown in the above photo, the Resourceful Road crosses the Yellowstone River at Kamm, MT into a big sky beset with the pastel colors of a dipping summer sun. Soon the cool of night will engulf the badlands and the scorched earth will yield its heat back into the night sky.

Like other forgotten places on the transcon, there were few who journeyed with the Milwaukee to this remote river crossing. Ahead, beyond the large bridge, lie the more famous Milwaukee haunts and electrified Rocky Mountain Division. Behind, the path back to the corn belt of the Midwest. On this evening the bridge stands as an imposing reminder of what was and the grand scale of that vision. The bridge is seemingly ready and able to host a Dead Freight or XL Special at any moment should the need arise. But as it has for more than 30 years, time will again slip by and another night will fall away silently without the rumble of large locomotives. The next night will as well. Only the occasional rancher will pass this way, or perhaps a fisherman looking to drop a line into the Yellowstone. Silence is a constant companion of Lines West. The Badlands amplify it to a full crescendo.

The Least Time

2011-03-10T15:53:00.000-08:00

March 9 is an important date in Milwaukee Road history. In 1908 on this date the first train arrived in Harlowton, MT from the East. Harlowton would become a small town of major importance to the Milwaukee, and Central Montana as well.

Here at Harlowton, the Milwaukee would construct a large yard and engine facility. The line to the Golden Triangle would originate from the east-west main here at Harlowton, providing the outlet for wheat crops to reach far away markets. Other shipments from the areas north of Harlowton worked their way south as well including oil from the Lewistown area. Harlowton was also the beginning of the Rocky Mountain Division for trains heading west. Here in the big yards, the famous electric locomotives that defined the Milwaukee's Mountain operation for decades would be swapped in and out. March 1908 marked the beginning. In a bit of irony, March 1980 marked the end of the Milwaukee's operations across the west. The last train headed east through Harlowton and scrappers soon followed, pulling rail.

It has been 103 years since the Milwaukee first rolled into the small town of Harlowton, 31 since it left. I find myself reflecting on these passages of time more and more as I get older. As a friend of mine recently observed, time becomes the thing that is most valuable because it is so easily syphoned and committed away every day. The push of life and the frenzy of the days ensure this. At the same time, our memories of special times or special places grow more fond and more meaningful by comparison. Even the photo above is aging: the scene reflects the Harlowton depot as it existed on a hot summer day in 2003. The yard tracks are long lifted and the roundhouse is dilapidated. I had time to pursue the old railroad then, but didn't appreciate the significance of it at the time. Now, only as the years continue to mount, do I realize the gift that times like that are.

Heat of the Day

2011-02-17T13:51:00.000-08:00

Milwaukee memories abound in this photograph of a hot summer day in St. Maries, ID. Two GPs that trace their lineage back to days of orange and black stand ready to haul empty log cars to the reload. The log cars themselves can trace their heritage back to the Milwaukee. Even one of switchstands among the many yard tracks still bears the chevron markings of its former owner. Pictured here is the St. Maries Railroad in its final summer as a log hauler, 2009. It's a hot day, and the rising heat is captured through the lens of a big telephoto. The final image is distorted, but says "summer time" just as clearly as the smell of creosote.

Though the St. Maries RR remains in place to haul wood products from producers in St. Maries to the Union Pacific connection at Plummer Junction, the days of ancient log cars traversing the Elk River Branch are over. The flats have been torched, and the line south of St. Maries is quiet but for the continuous sounds of the nearby river it closely paralleled.

Big Sky Blues

2011-02-10T09:48:00.000-08:00

Out on the Montana plains, near places with names like "Straw" is the Milwaukee Road's old line to the Golden Triangle: one of the country's breadbaskets.

The Milwaukee Road plotted two mainlines across Montana. The first, the main through Harlowton, Three Forks and Butte. This would be the east-west transcon where the Little Joes roamed. There was a second mainline considered by the Milwaukee as well, a northern route through Lewistown and Great Falls. The line between those two cities was built and operated throughout the life of the Milwaukee Road as a critical feeder to the main artery at Harlowton. The full vision of this second main was never realized, although the line was surveyed out across the Rocky Mountains. Two large stations were built on this secondary main that symbolized the importance of the line, although in some sense, an importance not realized in the original sense. Today the two large stations stand at Great Falls and Lewistown. The depot at Great Falls is one of Montana's iconic stations with a beautiful tower similar to those at Butte or Missoula.

Although never realized as a true second main, these "Northern Montana Lines" were connected to the real mainline by a north-south run that originated at Harlowton and ended at Lewistown. On its way north, it found one of the Milwaukee's competitors in the form of the GN at Judith Gap. While the Milwaukee's mainline through Montana was never far from the Northern Pacific, it seems its Northern Montana Lines were never far from the GN. Today, the Milwaukee's lines to the Golden Triangle wheat country continue to fade - but the GN is in place and used by BNSF to haul unit grain trains from this lush wheat country. The lack of competition following the Milwaukee's exit has been a story of politics. Montana has repeatedly lamented the high shipping rates charged by BNSF for the grain that is taken from this country, and arbitration of these seems ongoing (source: progressiverailroading.com).

Evidence of the lasting BNSF monopoly is clear near Judith Gap where the GN flyover is still in place. Beneath the bridge is the old Milwaukee feeder line, connecting the abandoned transcontinental line with the old Northern Montana Lines that fanned out into the wheat country. Federal Yellow hoppers roamed here once, kept company by the Milwaukee's fleet of aged ribside boxcars and unique locomotive power. Today, the BNSF runs overhead beneath the big skies and deep blues and remains the final player in the vast wheat country of the Golden Triangle. Here, as in other places across the West, the loss of the Milwaukee Road is deep and lasting.

Under Wire in the Emerald City

2011-01-20T13:43:00.000-08:00

In 1911 a new station opened in Seattle - not so far away from the current King Street Station. Actually, it was just across the street. The main concourse was truly grand and reflected the importance of the railroads at the time. Union Station (as it came to be known after some initial confusion) is today one of the fine examples of historical preservation. The original tenants, the Union Pacific and Milwaukee Road, are long vacated but the building stands ornate and proud as it did 100 years ago when passenger trains were called "Varnish" and heavy-weight Pullmans were the preferred mode of luxury travel.

Today, Union Station is the hub for Sound Transit and travelers can descend below ground to catch the bus or light-rail from this historic building just as travelers from times past. The difference in decades is unmistakable, however. Today's long distance travelers board the light rail bound for the SEA-TAC International Airport, not the Armour Yellow of departing Union Pacific or Milwaukee Road passenger trains. Inside on the main level, painted names above open doors still advertise the Women's Waiting Room or Men's Toilet and Barber Shop but these amenities are long vanished from the old station. The era of the highly polished and well-dressed traveler are seemingly over. Travel has changed and become more accessible to all, while at the same time, entering into an era of TSA body scanners.

It is interesting to consider Union Station and its undergrounds. In days past, travelers entered on street level, but departed on Olympians from sub-ground platforms. The Vintage Seattle Blog has a very nice post card of a departing Olympian on the sub-level. The close relation of the two Seattle depots is obvious.

Look carefully in the post card: the overhead catenary is visible above the waiting Olympian Hiawatha. This electrified Olympian must have been one of America's truly unique travel experiences. Certainly the lands it traversed seem unequaled, and the line it traversed was one of a kind.

The Milwaukee Road's final runs from Union Station were in 1961 and by that time the Bi-Polars were replaced with E-units from General Motors. For the next 10 years, the Union Pacific would utilize the station until the coming of Amtrak when all passenger trains into the Seattle downtown were relocated across the street. A massive refurbishing and rebuilding of Union Station was completed in 1999, formally saving the Great Hall for the future in the glory of the past. Beneath the surface, another nod to the past exists: the electrified light rail, where passengers can still depart the Emerald City under wire.

Bleak of Winter

2010-12-29T18:42:00.000-08:00

In winter, snowfalls and low temperatures are normal throughout the Milwaukee Road's West. Single digits and negative numbers are common across Montana and the great plains as snows blanket plains and mountain pass alike. Small towns that dot America's final transcontinental line take shelter in this weather. They seem more silent, more deserted, and more isolated than at any other time. The few people who inhabit these places hide behind walls and curtains that try to seal out the cold and the bitter winds that blow just beyond.

In the final years of the Milwaukee Road's Pacific Extension, the quiet of these blistering winter nights was shattered, on occasion, by the passing of a Dead Freight or the descendant of a fast hotshot like the Thunderhawk or XL Special. Time and weather took their toll on these fast trains, and the names were dropped in favor of numbers as the economic slump of the time made itself known across the industry as a whole. These were cold times, and dark days.

The suffering wasn't limited to the small towns and hotshot schedules. Many General Electric locomotives met their end traversing the lonesome mainline beneath the Big Skies of Montana. In the bitter cold, these locomotives were recalled from the West Coast, but sent west "dead in tow" and without the draining of their coolant lines. As trains moved from Palouse Country of Eastern Washington out across the Bitterroot range and into Montana, the coolant froze in the bitter winter temperatures. The old GEs and their ruined engines wouldn't see the west again and the Milwaukee would rent power in the final winters as their fleet numbers declined precipitously. It has been said this destruction of the old GEs was done under orders. Perhaps it was. Whatever the reason, they never had a chance against those bitter Montana winters and the cold journey back to the Midwest.

Today, many of the small towns out on the old transcon cling to existence through the cold winter months and passing years. As in decades past, the cold seems to intensify their silence but unlike times past, it is an unbroken silence. The orange and black that traversed the wintry landscapes is relegated to memory - often faded and fuzzy as the passing years take their full effect. Still, the air feels cold on those nights just like it always has and the stars shine brilliantly in crystal clear skies above. It is a winter scene that is played out again and again, both bleak and brilliant in the same brushstroke. It's haunting to think of those old GEs in a silent death march out across the cold plains, as it is to consider the long silence of what followed shortly thereafter and remains entrenched to this day.

The Other Way out of Town

2010-11-25T11:51:00.000-08:00

In Seattle, the Milwaukee Road called Union Station home. The famous trains named Columbian and Olympian called there until 1961 when the passenger trains were cut back to Deer Lodge. Eventually the last Hiawathas would never make it further west than the Twin Cites. Union Station still served the Union Pacific, but there was another way out of town as well.

Just across the street from Union Station, the NP and GN called King Street Station home. Famous trains called here as well, and to some extent, at least one still does. The North Coast Limited and Empire Builder were just some of the top of the line passenger trains that left from the sheds of King Street. Unlike the Milwaukee Road, UP, and NP, the GN left town heading north out along the Pacific coast. At Everet the line to the Midwest turned east and headed over the Cascades and Stevens Pass. It was there that the GN had a small electrification project of its own, and varnish like the Empire Builder was headed by powerful electric locomotives until the advent of dieselization.

Amtrak's Empire Builder still leaves King Street on a daily basis, still in close proximity to Union Station and the haunts of old Olympians. Just like the original Builder, she heads north and the modern streamliner rolls through the ever expanding Seattle area and small coastal towns along the shores. In the photo above at Mulkiteo, a beautiful winter morning is at hand along the old GN main. The air is crisp, the leaves have turned, and fresh snow tops the distant mountains. This is still the other way out of town, although for rail passengers heading to the Midwest for holidays and family, it is also pretty much the only way out. How times change.

Happy Thanksgiving to you all.

Author's note: it is possible to leave King St. on a southbound Coast Starlight or Cascades for points south, and eventually east, if desired.

Trans Missouri

2010-11-01T14:55:00.000-07:00

Miles City, Montana was a point of activity for the Milwaukee Road's line to the Pacific Coast. Company shops were located here as was the division headquarters for the line's Trans Missouri division. The Trans Missouri linked the Milwaukee's famous electrified Rocky Mountain Division in the west with Mobridge and the crossing of the Missouri River in the east. Here, in the Trans Missouri, the line plied the plains of the great American West.

Comprised of both fertile ground and desolate badlands, the Trans Missouri wrestled directly with the vast distances and big skies that greet westward travelers to this day. While many seem appalled at the boredom of traversing this land, it offers unique opportunities to witness the true scale of the world in which we live. Out on the Trans Missouri, it is difficult to hide from the sobering reality that we are, in fact, quite small.

Trains arriving in Miles City were subject to 500 mile inspections. Great hotshot freights with names like Thunderhawk paused here in Miles City as they made their sprint across the plains. Miles City saw the Milwaukee Road's passenger power show true grit across these plains: a single locomotive held point on the line's varnish for the entire distance from St. Paul to the start of wires over the Rocky Mountain Division. Miles City was also a home to the rival NP, and the two railroads left town heading east within a stone's throw of each other. Miles City was a real point of activity.

Today in Miles City, much of the old Milwaukee Shops still stand. Via their connection with the old NP (now BNSF), they're even in business as a private corporation, Transco. The salvage of the shops has led to another interesting remnant here on the Trans Missouri: mainline. From the crossing of the Tongue River on the west side of town, to the shops and connection with the old NP on the east, the mainline rails of the Pacific Coast Extension still hold ground. Standing on the Tongue River bridge and staring west, it's not difficult to imagine the rails continuing out across the flatlands ahead. It would be another 200 miles to electrification and the Rocky Mountain Division. 200 miles out across a vast landscape looked over by the big skies of the Trans Missouri. Although famous for its electrics and mountain ranges, this too was Milwaukee Country. Land of the Resourceful Railroad.

I've Missed You

2010-09-25T14:07:00.000-07:00

There has been an expanse of decades that have passed since the last wheel turned on Lines West. America has been without her Resourceful Railroad, without her best engineered path to the Northwest, without orange and black in a sea of Washington wheat or mountain green. Others, employees and observers, share their memories of the last days while pictures of dilapidated locomotives and a torturous winter in 1979 tell their own story.

But I missed all of that. My first memories of the Milwaukee Road's west involve the ever changing scenery of I90 as viewed from the second row of an old suburban. The seats were vinyl and sticky on hot days, but the old truck always made the trip. The cascades offered brief glimpses of high black trestles on the west slopes, then the occasional bridge on the east side of Snoqualmie. The massive Renslow trestle near Kittitas spanned the 4 lane and loomed large outside the confines of the suburban, especially for this 6 year old who strained to see the roadbed above. I strained my head to keep the bridge and road bed in view as long as possible, looking for evidence of tracks and trains. The ties scattered down the side of the embankments during those years told the story even for this young child: something bad happened here.

Many years later, my Milwaukee Road wanderings would find me in Potlatch, ID. Here, the Milwaukee's own WI+M railroad had left behind a small yard and large depot. The years had not been kind to the depot, but they had spared it. Such a fate is not often repeated across the western reaches of Milwaukee Country. The WI+M itself was a shadow of its former life in these wanderings. The line connecting Bovill, ID to the old Northern Pacific at Palouse, WA had been severed for several years. In the gradually softening economy of early 2007, double-stack well cars had been situated in amongst the old yard tracks and station.

There's an irony here: the Milwaukee's extension to the west coast offered some of the best travel times and fewest interchanges of any western line. The transcontinental travel times were enviable, even as the system began to fail in the late 70s. If the Milwaukee had made it a few more years, or the value of Lines West had been noted and embraced, well cars like these might be rolling on other parts of Milwaukee rails, hauling double-stack containers across the continent much like the transcon survivors do today. But on this day, these cars sit and bask in a cold setting sun that blankets them and the old WI+M depot in a low light. Soon the temperatures will plummet and a cold winter night will settle across the Palouse country.

The beauty and quiet of the scene is cause for reflection: I missed the Milwaukee Road in the West. Still, my memories and photographs only confirm what that small child from decades ago already knew: something bad happened here.

Author's Note: The WI+M depot has since been restored through the tireless work of dedicated volunteers and donations from various organizations and individuals. It is a beautiful restoration, and a wonderful tribute to much of the old Inland Northwest, including the Milwaukee Road.

Hangman Creek Trestle: Brownfields Part 2

2010-09-13T15:13:00.000-07:00

After a little prodding from Lost Rail's good friend, Oil-Electric, I've put together a link to the bridge abutment's location on the western edge of Spokane:

View Larger Map

The abutment stands, more or less, at the point where W. Ohio Ave and N. Summit meet and points south-east in the above photo. From here, the old trestle in question would have crossed the Spokane River and Hangman creek on its way across the valley. A walking bridge now spans the River in the approximate location of the old trestle piers. When the water level is lower, these are still visible just east of the walking bridge, however, seem covered in the image above.

Also of interest, to the north and east of the abutment are the remains of the old UP round house, still visible from above. Spokane was quite the railroad town...

Brownfields and Open Spaces

2010-08-27T13:57:00.000-07:00

There's a term used to describe abandoned industrial sites: brownfields. Across the expanse of the United States these places exist as reminders of hustle, industrial might, and a growing country flexing its industrial muscles. In Pittsburgh the old steel mill sites dot the river banks that make the city famous. In Birmingham, it's old iron works and furnace sites. The remains of old industry are scattered out across the Midwest rust belt with empty fields or rusted and mangled machinery dotting old sections of small and large cities alike. The West has its share of brownfields too. The city of Spokane has extensive stretches of land once occupied by a bustling railroad yard that stretch from near downtown west to the canyon that marks the city's western edge.

A massive trestle spanned the Spokane River here, carrying trains from the shared UP/Milwaukee Road trackage across the chasm and into the heart of the city. The leftovers today consist of a few embedded foundations in the river valley below, and the concrete form that anchored the trestle's eastern edge. This was the route of the Milwaukee's transcontinental passenger trains, and the shared UP trackage was the company's access to the Inland Northwest's capital city.

The World Fair of 1974 changed all of that for the UP, the Milwaukee, and the other railroads and industry that made up much of downtown Spokane. The downtown was thoroughly reconstructed and cleaned for the exposition. The UP/Milwaukee depot was removed as was the GN depot, save for the clock tower that still stands in Riverfront Park. The leftovers of this massive reconstruction have existed ever since: giant brownfields and a few concrete remnants of the old industrial downtown. The anchoring pier of Hangman's trestle rests at the edge of the Spokane River in the picture above, glowing in the setting sun of a cool spring day. It ends abruptly, leading only to the open spaces above the river far below. Here, as everywhere else, time changes things. Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse.

Today, change continues in this part of Spokane. A brownfield reclamation project is underway and redevelopment is in the cards. Given time, even these remnants will be forgotten but for a few old photos. Such is the story of so many of America's industrial places. The Milwaukee Road can certainly count itself among them.

Answers to Questions

2010-08-04T10:53:00.000-07:00

In the years that have spanned the Milwaukee Road's "retrenchment" from the Pacific Coast, there have been more than a few questions posed. There have been more than a few answers offered. There have been more than a few arguments started, and more than a few facts misinterpreted. The common thread is the quest for answers to the question, "What happened out there?"

Although it was Lines West that seems to be the most memorable scar from the Milwaukee tragedy, perhaps because of its seemingly inherent value, all across the Milwaukee empire things were not well. Travel times across the Midwest were high, slow orders abounded. Harsh winters reduced the locomotive fleet to the point where Canadian National and Baltimore and Ohio units made guest appearances. Out on the Pacific Extension, worn U-boats old GPs trudged through the snows and dilapidation of what was left of a modern engineering marvel.

I don't pretend to have the answers to the questions the ghosts of the old railroad conjure. But on an early spring day out along the transcon, the questions howl like the bitter Palouse wind. The bridge at Seaburry, WA still stands and carries the vacant right of way across the old interurban line in Eastern Washington. The photo looks east, toward the Bitterroot mountains and famous Rocky Mountain electrified division. Beyond that, the plains and badlands of Eastern Montana. Then the Dakota plains and grand Missouri River. Farther still, the big Midwestern cities of St. Paul, Chicago, and the rest. The distance seems so unfathomably vast from the forgotten outpost of Seaburry -- yet that is what we are left with. Big distances, big questions, and the cold winds of Eastern Washington.

The Haunts of Shadows, Great Rivers, and Hiawatha

2010-07-08T11:19:00.000-07:00

Ye who love the haunts of Nature,

Love the sunshine of the meadow,

Love the shadow of the forest,

Love the wind among the branches,

And the rain-shower and the snow-storm,

And the rushing of great rivers

Through their palisades of pine-trees,

And the thunder in the mountains,

Whose innumerable echoes

Flap like eagles in their eyries;-

Listen to these wild traditions,

To this Song of Hiawatha!

From: "Hiawatha," Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

'Fleet of foot was Hiawatha.' America's Resourceful Railroad had a stable of Hiawathas that ran through the Midwest; in the shadows of the forest, out across the rushing rivers. In late June of 1947, the Milwaukee added a transcontinental Hiawatha to its passenger streamliners: The Olympian Hi'. Initially pulled by iconic FM diesels, later by Little Joe electrics on the mountain passes of Montana, and then sets of streamlined boxcabs and rebuilt Bi-Polars. Armour yellow E units marked its final days of transcon running.

Grand stations were built by the Milwaukee through the state of Montana. These stations, like the passenger trains that called there, showed the importance and prestige of rail travel and railroads in previous generations. Large towers graced the buildings in Butte, Great Falls, and Missoula. Other stations, like Miles City, had simple but grand entrances that welcomed travelers to the experience of passenger rail.

The great trains like the Olympian Hi' were fitted with full-length Super Domes and the Milwaukee Road's unique Skytop Observation cars. Out on the long runs of the Pacific Extension, the special fleet of Skytops included cabins for first class travelers. Passengers could watch the ever changing landscape of a large country slip by from the flatlands of Illinois to the sheer faces of the Washington Cascades. Under the wires of the electrification, the view included some of the country's most unique motive power like the Little Joes or Bi-Polar electrics.

The original station in Butte was built as a "stub end" station: trains backed into the station tracks and left by pulling out forward. The station was situated in the downtown of one of Montana's largest mining boom towns and matched the grand houses of the downtown wealth. As the railroad aged, however, the passenger trains faded. Little Joes were moved to freight service and replaced by older streamlined boxcab electrics. By 1961 the Milwaukee ceased transcontinental operation of passenger trains all together. The final runs were made by E-unit diesels operating beneath the wires of the Cascades and Rockies much like the old FM diesels had many years before.

The final incarceration of passenger trains west of Miles City called in Butte, but ran only as far as Deer Lodge before readying for a return trip to the east. The grand Butte depot was substituted by a small structure located directly on the mainline, requiring no complicated backing moves. The old station with large tower became a TV station and the grand days of passenger trains were clearly ending. What started as 'Fleet of Foot' would end quietly and without much fanfare on the rails of the Western Extension.

Today, both depots in Butte still stand and recall distinctly different eras of travel by rail. The original grand depot recalls one more uniquely Milwaukee aspect, however. Still anchored to the ends of the old brick structure are the mounts for the electrification guy wires. And a sign that warns of the high voltage overhead. Looking up from beneath the sign, only the high blue skies of a summer day in Montana stare back. No catenary, no high voltage, no more Olympian Hi. Decades have passed and the world has changed, but small haunts of a different time remain across the Milwaukee's west -- the song of the Hiawatha.

Building Forward and Onward

2010-06-17T15:32:00.000-07:00

Often, it is the things just below the surface that make a history or place interesting. Old stories of personal sacrifice or challenge that make up the big history are often quite special. These things lie just below the surface of what is normally seen, weaving the fabric of history into what is now casually observed as "current."

The piles of rock and filler that abound in the picture of Deer Lodge, MT lie atop one of those intriguing old stories. In the distance, a few poles jut into the sky between the trees. They are a reminder that this is a special place. This is a place where America's final transcontinental railroad pushed west toward the mountains in the distance. This is a place where Little Joes pulled time sensitive Thunderhawk and XL Specials up for crew changes at the nearby depot. They rolled out beneath those old poles, from between the trees and into the rails of the Milwaukee's Deer Lodge yards, now home to large piles of DOT filler and debris.

Beneath those piles, just beneath the surface, lie the ruins of a company that pushed forward and onward. It has been a long time since a headlight pierced that space between the trees, even longer since electric wire provided the potential to drag Thunderhawks across the challenging Montana landscape. These were the visions of progress carried out in their day. It's not difficult to look at the old poles and mountains in the distance and imagine a scene from yesteryear. It was a different time: building and expansion that feels more incredible with each passing year. It was a bold vision, a bold execution, and a quiet end to the push onward.

Summer Times

2010-05-27T08:44:00.000-07:00

One of the things that often strikes me is the cost of growing up. We move from a child's simplicity to an adult who is full of stress, strain, and the burden of too much information. From relaxed summer days of fun and few cares to gripes about heat and humidity, the endlessness of yard work, and the ever present journeys to and from our 'real' jobs. As another summer unfolds in the Northern Hemisphere, allow me to journey back in time to a few fond memories of summers many years ago. Perhaps it is the lack of adult work loads and stress that makes these memories stand out and seem so pleasant.

I haven't always been an avid photographer. My real love for the hobby started in high school, but my first pictures come from the summer of 1990. As with many summers through the mid 90s, I spent a couple of weeks in Lafayette, IN with my grandparents. That summer an old Brownie camera was unearthed and film scrounged from a local photography shop. In general, summer days there were always fun for a railroad buff like myself. Lafayette sits at an intersection of several significant railroads: the Wabash, the NYC, the Monon, and even the Nickel Plate. By 1990, only two were making much noise through the city limits near the grandparent's house. These were the Norfolk-Southern version of the Wabash and the CSX version of the Monon Lines. Still, traces of predecessors were everywhere.

One of the best photos taken by the old Brownie camera was of a NW General Electric running one of the few stretches of double track on the old Wabash main. A recent summer thunderstorm has passed, leaving everything looking clean and shiny.

While the Wabash was most easily viewed from my grandparent's house, the old Monon lines through town were always of particular interest. My Grandpa and I would take early morning walks downtown to see what action there might be on this most unusual piece of street running. Although relocated off of 5th street in the later part of the decade, 1990 still saw trains operate as they always did: right down the middle of the street. Speeds were slow and the traffic tie-ups could be quite impressive if a long freight was caught meandering through town. The old camera again caught some CSX predecessor action that summer: A Family Lines GE is entering the street running, pulling freight through the heart of downtown Lafayette.

In those days, other predecessor roads were easier to spot in the mix of freight cars. A GN box drifts down the street somewhere behind the old Family Lines GE. There's a lot of history in these two old pictures: mergers, abandonments, corporate struggles, and lost identities...although a child's view through an old point and shoot camera reveals none of those. It's takes years, travels, and the sights and sounds of abandoned Pacific Extensions to bring all of that into focus.

The old Monon line was also Lafayette's link to the national passenger rail network. The Chicago to New York Cardinal called there in the 1990s, and still does today. A couple of summers after my initial work with the old Brownie, I found myself upgraded to a Pentax Spotmatic. Loaded with film on another Indiana summer day, a trip was made with Grandpa downtown to watch the passenger train through. On the point that day, another image of the times: Amtrak's venerable F40PH locomotive.

The cardinal was always an interesting train. It operated, as it does today, tri-weekly. On days off, it was substituted by a local Chicago to Indianapolis only run. Days where the Cardinal called at Lafayette were special because it was the "long distance" train, complete with diner and sleeping car equipment. I recall several interesting things about the train in those days. The roar of the F40 is one of them as it continued providing electrical power to the train even during the stop. The diner exhaust fans and smells of breakfast were another: the morning schedule into Lafayette put breakfast at just the right time for french toast on 5th street. I always thought the passengers were a lucky group.

On many days, the Cardinal would be incorporated with equipment heading to or from Amtrak's main shops in Indianapolis. As such, locomotives with paint patches, extra passenger cars, even dead heading commuter cars, all saw their way down 5th street at one time or another. Amtrak's prototype Viewliner sleeping car was another frequent guest on 5th street. This car, produced by the Indianapolis shops, served as the model for all the subsequent Viewliners purchased for use on the single level trains of the East. Here, the cardinal slips down 5th street with the Viewliner nestled in to the usual long distance consist.

Of course, the CSX version of the Monon can actually be noted for something else that is quite interesting. Even after the street running was removed, many upper quadrant semaphores still spanned the single track main south of Lafayette. In 1990 I had no idea that these were there, but by accident, in the summer of 1998, I found a several beautiful examples.

My grandpa had passed by that time, but a friend and I visited the old Lafayette stomping grounds nonetheless. Our fortune took us to these old relics, still in service out among the cornfields of the beautiful Indiana countryside. CSX has been slowly removing these old mechanical signals, but they still evoke a strong reaction from me. They literally span decades of political, economic, social and world change.

As with many memories, time seems to bring fondness and we are blessed that even those experiences which seemed terrible are oft mellowed by passing years. As another summer unfolds across the U.S., these are just a few of the old memories that occasionally churn through my mind in the midst of all my responsibilities that take over life's perspective more than they should. I'm always thankful for these images and memories of another time, and strive to keep a perspective that even in the midst of being a grownup, there are wonderful benefits to a healthy and humble view of life.

Long Standing

2010-05-05T20:52:00.000-07:00

As the days drag into weeks, oil continues its rush from the Gulf floor to the ocean above. The politicians point fingers, the residents along the Gulf Coast question response times and commitment, and the coastline waits for the slick to make landfall.

Amidst the chaos and noise, the economy of the region hinges on the effects and success of the spill containment. Oyster beds dot the area, shrimp fishing is common place. These are the economic realities that coexist with the environmental impacts.

The world economy thrives on readily available oil products that move cars, heat homes, even form the backbone for the many plastics that are relied on every day. In 2008 the U.S. Department of Energy reported that 28% of the U.S. energy use was consumed by the transportation sector alone [1]. Much of the transportation sector consists of internal combustion engines operating on the Otto or Diesel cycle. The staggering consideration is that many of these engines are only 35 to 40 % efficient [2]. For every gallon of gasoline consumed, nearly two thirds is wasted.

The remnants of one alternative is a long standing one, found out under the big skies of Montana. Now just a relic left in only a few places, the Milwaukee Road's electrification represents a different choice. In the photo above, the old line-side poles coexist with the catenary poles along an old stretch of mainline. Trains have not passed this way since 1980. Electrified trains have not passed this way since 1974. To many, the Milwaukee's decision to cease electrification cost the company its existence: on the eve of the fuel crisis of the 70s, the highly efficient electric lines were turned off, the powerful locomotives sidelined and scrapped.

This brought America's Resourceful Railroad back into line with all of its competitors and counterparts, ending the alternative means of propulsion at a time when it was, perhaps, most critical.

There are decades that span the gap between the crisis in the Gulf and the Resourceful Railroad's path to the west coast. Yet, at least in my mind, the events are linked in some strange way and the decisions that have been made have unarguably led us to this point. What will the next several decades hold? Is there any room for the long standing alternative still seen in lonely stretches of the West? Perhaps. Although it is unlikely that a Little Joe will be under wire any time soon.

1)EIA. Annual energy review 2007. Technical report, Energy Information Administration,

http://www.eia.doe.gov/emeu/aer/contents.html, 2007.

2)C. Ferguson and A. Kirkpatrick. Internal Combustion Engines. John Wiley and Sons Inc., second edition,

2001.

Rock-a-bye bye bye?

2010-03-31T07:06:00.000-07:00

There are footnotes to history and there are chapters. Dependent on your perspective, sometimes those footnotes deserve a book unto themselves.

As the economy sagged in the seventies, railroads were hit hard. The East saw a general collapse in the form of Penn Central. As the seventies wore on, the PC would be combined with several other bankrupt roads to form Conrail, a government backed corporation who's sole goal was to save rail transportation in the eastern half of the country. Collapse worked its way through the western lines during these years as well.

The Milwaukee Road pulled out of the West just over 30 years ago at the beginning of March. Bankrupt and reeling, its retreat to the Midwest would last only a few more years until its absorption by Soo Line. Its competitors in the West and Northwest managed to hang on, but healthy balance sheets were not to be found in the board rooms of the Cascade Green lines in those years.

The Rock Island had a long flirtation with the Union Pacific through the 60s. Merger was oft discussed and seemed inevitable at points in the late 60s. To boost the attractiveness of the company (i.e. its bottom line), decisions to delay maintenance and physical plant spending were made in the Rock's Chicago offices. As the seventies hit with an economic thud, the railroad found itself poorly managed and without an interested merger partner. Exploration of a true transcontinental merger with the Erie Lackawanna was conducted, but no deal was consummated. Given the collapse and deteriorated mess of the PC, perhaps a combined Rock-Erie would have done no better. In an attempt to re-invent itself, a new logo and look was established as part of the "Capitol Rebuild Program" that rebuilt parts of the old locomotive fleet in an attempt to keep trains moving. The light blue applied to the rebuilds and new rolling stock seemed to fade quickly and, just as quickly, became known as Bankruptcy Blue. An ill timed labor strike would be the final straw.

And so the seventies did to the Rock Island what they did to the Milwaukee and all of those Eastern lines: relegated them to historical studies, barren right of ways, and old grain elevators that stand over small quiet towns across the Midwest. The elevator above still stands at Downie, IA along the Rock Island's former mainline to Omaha and points west. It has been 30 years since the Rock Island rolled up, in the company of its faltered competitors who proceeded it.

"Rock-a-bye bye bye" was a title given to a brief D.P. Morgan article in Trains Magazine in July 1975. On the cover was a picture of the Rock Island's E-6 locomotive #630. It seemed inconceivable that the "Route of the Rockets" could actually collapse so completely, yet in 1975 the writing was on the wall. As Mr. Morgan noted, "The Rock Island Line became a might sad road." The beautiful lines of the streamlined E-6 recalled a profitable and exciting time for the railroad, nearly 4 decades previous. As pictured in 1975, beneath the night lights of the Chicago skyline, it was a gritty museum piece in forced labor. It was a time of tumultuous change, of economic unease, and an unsure future. Five years later the unthinkable would happen and another railroad legend would sign off and lower its flag. Bye bye Rock Island Lines, now thirty years on.

Those Magnificent Quads

2010-03-24T15:13:00.000-07:00

It was the electric motors on the Milwaukee Road's Lines West that received them: those beautiful quad headlights.

The original lamps that adorned the famous electrics, from the Bi-Polars to the Little Joes, seemed average

enough. Pictures posted across

various pages on the internet show a single headlight centered in a larger reflective housing, just like the steamers and diesels of the same era. Somewhere along the way, however, during the rebuilding that kept those electrics in service for decades and decades, a modification was made. A 4 sealed beam

headlight was installed, making the electrics instantly identifiable. Even the Little Joes received them, and their slightly smaller headlight housing made them all the more distinctive. The photo of the Joe shows the quad light arrangement, slightly truncated on the edges.

But then, it wasn't just the electrics that got this treatment. On a beautiful sunny summer day, tucked away in the back of the yards in St. Maries, ID, a distinctive non-electric resides with that beautiful quad on full display. The plow was a home-built for the Milwaukee, number X900109. The rib sides recall other Milwaukee projects like their distinct cabooses or ribside box cars. It was a construction technique used to bolster the strength of the side walls and it resulted in some very unique Milwaukee equipment.

The paint is badly faded on the old plow and rust resides around many of the weld joints. When needed, however, it has seen a recent call to action. The winter of 2007-2008 required its services on the Elk River branch. Shop crews spent a few days readying the plow and then pushed it out of town using a pair of the St. Maries River Railroad GPs. Perhaps the only disappointment of the trip was the lack of light from that fabulous quad: no power hookup was available from the locomotives to turn it on.

It appears that there will be no further calls to action for X900109. As noted in previous postings, the Elk River Branch is silent and the log cars that roamed there are cut into scrap. For now though, that quad headlight still rests atop the old plow in the yards at St. Maries. It's a nod to the Milwaukee's uniqueness, its home shops, and to those distinctive electric locos that ran the electrified mountain divisions for those many many decades. A magnificent quad.

Firsts and Lasts

2010-02-28T07:00:00.000-08:00

The year was 1827, the date February the 28th. American railroad history was made with the incorporation of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad through an act of the Maryland Legislature. It was a date that would begin an era of expansion and industrialization in the New World. With the explorations of Lewis and Clark only two decades before, the entire country was opening before an onslaught of settlers and progress moving west.

For its part, the B&O would remain one of the dominant forces in the railroad and transportation industry for more than a century. In the era of streamliners and profitable eastern lines, its slogans proclaimed its stature with memorable lines like, "Linking 13 Great States with the Nation" or, "Timesaver Service."

The era of expansion across the American frontier would eventually see the construction of several transcontinental railroads spread out over key northern, central, and southern corridors. Famous lines like the Central Pacific and Union Pacific were first, however, others soon followed. Out across the Northwest came the Northern Pacific and Great Northern. To the Southwest rolled the Santa Fe and Southern Pacific. The Milwaukee Road was built firmly as a Midwestern Granger line but made an appointment with the West Coast as well. It became America's final transcontinental railroad early in the 20th century with vast stretches electrified across the western mountain ranges by 1919 (although many parts were electrified prior).

The Milwaukee Road would adopt several corporate slogans over the years of its run to the Pacific. These included the "Route of the Hiawathas," and later the memorable, "America's Resourceful Railroad." Indeed it was. The long stretches of electrification stood as the only long distance electrified route west of the densely populated east coast lines. By many estimates its electrification saved it millions and was so well built it lasted with relatively few changes until 1974.

By 1974, however, the Resourceful Railroad was clearly in decline. Reinvestment in the lines had been minimal over the past several years and the struggling economy of the mid and late seventies did little to help. The more profitable western extension, with its long runs and efficient routing, was continually plagued by the money losing Midwestern lines and a management that did little to support it as the seventies wore on. In 1977 the company would declare bankruptcy, its final of several spread out over its tumultuous existence. While other western lines around it would face similar economic hardships, the Milwaukee focussed on retrenchment and a pull back to its Midwestern routes.

As February 28th dawned in 1980, a long and bitter winter was finally ending across the Milwaukee Road's west. The line had been run to the ground, surviving on virtually nothing but the will of its people to keep it moving. Locomotives were dead and out of service, derailments were a daily occurrence, and the end was upon the Western Extension. What had started life as America's final transcontinental route was ending life as the first one abandoned. It would leave behind it more questions than answers, a legacy of poor management, and the best engineered route to the Northwest coast. The magnitude of the failure is matched only by the lines potential.

February 28th: a day of firsts and lasts, now 30 years on.

Juxtaposition

2010-02-16T14:43:00.000-08:00

On a quiet Sunday afternoon, a small group of worshipers gathers in a small traditional looking church. The A-frame design bespeaks years of expectation and American church culture. The singing inside follows a tune that is familiar to some, albeit mostly those from older generations. Words ring out with a chorus of, "This is my savior, this is my song. Praising my savior, all the day long." The old hymn's title: "Blessed Assurance."

The small group concentrates on the harmony of the old hymn and memories of Sundays that have played out over the many years before. "This is my song," they sing as the chorus again rolls around. It's a scene from countless churches sprinkled out across the great landscape of the American countryside. It recalls similar gatherings sprinkled back across the years of the small American churches as well. Little has changed in many of these places. Change seems reserved for a few added creases in the bindings of the hymnals and faces of the congregation. Outside these walls, however, change has been unstoppable.

It has been nearly three decades since the Milwaukee Road packed up its bags and left its Pacific Coast Extension to the annals of history. Left behind are lonely places like Acola, MT shown in the photograph above. Once part of a small grain branch operating off the mainline, the grain shipments in 40 foot ribside boxcars have long ceased. The plains and mountains play a give and take in this part of the Milwaukee's haunting grounds. Beautiful sunsets and gentle colors mark the area and nearby are the headwaters of the Missouri River. Cold nights are common here as well. The sky is so clear, the heat of the day - even a hot summer day, seems quickly lost to the black expanses of night overhead. It was to places like these the Milwaukee called home to its Lines West. When it left them, it left depth and reverence. These two elements seem common accompaniment to the memories and stories of those who came before. Acola is just one of many lonely places that exist in juxtaposition.

The old hymn remembers those old times though. Those were the times the Milwaukee Road was marveled around the world for its bold electrification and well engineered route. The one to whom the songs are sung remembers them too. The juxtaposition runs deep: praise inside in a way that seems unchanged over decades, quiet reverence and reflection outside amidst a sea of change and history. Yet the two were never meant to be separate. The inside versus outside defies the original intent and forwards a juxtaposition that should not exist.

Great Plains and Big Sky

2010-02-03T08:30:00.000-08:00

The world is a big place...but on some levels it doesn't seem so large any more. Communication has made contact with other cities, states, and countries unremarkable. Yet 100 years ago, the system we take for granted today was unthinkable and unheard of. In 1910 roads were poor, autos were for the wealthy and well-to-do, and telegrams were a normal means of fast communication. Many rural stations had Western Union offices for that very reason. 100 years ago, the world was a very big place indeed.

Interestingly, the world itself hasn't changed all that much. The wind blows across the plains of the West, the tall grasses whisper and bend beneath its howling, the clouds still roll quickly across the big skies. While much of the country has connected itself to everything, the land it inhabits still shows many of the constants it always has. We've done our best to carve it up and parcel it out but that original beauty of what was is still there somewhere. Somewhere beneath the glitz and glamor, somewhere out there.

Great plains and big skies give perspective to these things. They give perspective on where we actually stand and our tenuous grip on "control." They remind us of how small we are, and that what was here before is much bigger than we ever consider. Away from cozy confines of office buildings or comfortable reclining seats, these spaces represent something very very different. This is apparent in places like Mozart, Saskatchewan shown above. The grain elevator stands as the tallest thing for miles on the great expanse of plains. The wind rushes an oncoming front across the sky above. The roads are bad, the people are few and far between, and loneliness is a frequent companion. There is no glitz or glamor here, just wide open beauty that imposes itself on you, just as it always has.

A Joe Photo Study

2010-01-08T15:01:00.001-08:00

I had a special request for a few more detail shots of the Milwaukee Road's only surviving Little Joe. If you can, she's worth a visit in Deer Lodge, MT, but plan on spending some time around her. She's loaded with interesting features and dripping with stories. I could write something for each of these shots, but for now, I'll let them speak of their own accord. Enjoy.

Silent Snows

2009-12-24T12:32:00.000-08:00

Snowy mornings have a special kind of quiet. Grey clouds above roll along with only the lonesome sounds of a wintery breeze pushing them forward. Standing near a field or line of bushes, little rustle is heard -- just the silence of of a new snowfall. As snow fall covers the ground and sticks to the roads, even the passing cars drift by silently.

It's a snowy winter morning along Lines West, the location is Rosalia, WA. The old tilted rectangle of America's Resourceful Railroad still clings to the bridge side -- just barely. Located on the south side of the old structure, it has been subject to direct sun for many many years and they show. Just out of frame to the left is the old electrified interurban from Colfax. At one time Rosalia hosted the transcontinental Milwaukee Road, the electrified Great Northern (who purchased the interurban), and the Northern Pacific line from Spokane to Lewiston. The three big northwest players all in one small town, out amongst the hills of Palouse country.

But the year is 2004, not 1934, and the sights and sounds of interurban travel and transcon freights are matched in silence only by the fresh snow fall. The NP line was in place, but only as far as Moscow, ID when this photo was taken. Today, it ends at the Idaho border. Times change, but the quiet of fresh snow and its tranquility in places like this seem unchanged.

Even though snow and Christmas seem tied inexorably together in Western culture, Peace and tranquility don't always seem to play an important role. The noise of shopping mall parking lots and scream of continuous entertainment do a fair job blocking quiet and thoughtfulness. But on that snowy December morning five years ago, surrounded by history and the deep quiet of a snow storm, tranquility and quiet seemed so very important.

May you find some Peace and quiet of your own this holiday. Merry Christmas.

Details

2009-12-10T13:47:00.000-08:00

It's all in the details.

The Milwaukee Road's Little Joe is an amazing collection of enormous castings. The shear amount of metal that encompasses the running gear and supports the carbody is something to behold. The design and manufacture dates back to a time when American foundry work was second to none, the country manufacturing base healthy, and the infrastructure of the country alive and growing. General Electric clearly built these locomotives to last in a harsh environment that saw frequent extremes in weather, loading, and speeds. In their lives as front line Western power, they encountered all of these.

In the details of an old machine like this Joe, much is learned about old processes and standards, previous ways of thinking, previous ways of problem solving and, just as important, the problems that were solved. The details are a history lesson in themselves. In amongst all of the details of Milwaukee's only existing Little Joe is a detail that harkens back to the days of a Cold War and a growing Soviet Empire.

The detail in question is located on the "b" end of the Joe, the end where the cab was removed and windows plated over. There, an obvious outcropping exists from the massive casting that supports the rear half of the locomotive and drivetrain. It can be seen in the above photo, supporting a nicely painted grab iron. It's original purpose, however, would seem to be related to the locomotive's original destination. While the Americanized railroads never had much use for bumpers between equipment, the European and related lines used them extensively. The Soviets had specified bumpers for their fleet of GE electric locomotives and indeed, the mounting platform was in place -- and still is.

Montana became the home for Milwaukee's Little Joe, but it was never the original destination. The European elements of these fantastic locomotives still show through in a few of the details and are a good reminder of the importance of details.

Travels

2009-11-22T11:49:00.001-08:00

In my many years away from home, travel by train has always held an excitement as part of the holiday journey. In November, thoughts turn to Thanksgiving and the end of autumn weather. Cool nights and warm days give way while the colors of foliage drift from their lofty perches to a sea of browns on the ground.

A Thanksgiving trip many years ago brings back memories of a speeding California Zephyr under the care of three Genesis locomotives, number 1 running point. It was a cool day in 1997 and the low southern sun gave the train an unparalleled look at a beautiful sight occurring to our southwest. It glistened as far as the eye could see on the distant, and flat, Illinois horizon. West of Sandwich, the train kicked those fallen leaves into the orange sky of the November sunset as old line-side poles flipped by outside the Zephyr's windows. The train ran a losing race that day, into the low and setting sun. Just one memory of Thanksgiving travels from times past.

Passenger trains have run a losing race for many years in the U.S. Where travelers used to line trackside and await the coming of the holiday trains, stations are closed and rails are gone. In Miles City, MT, those closed and locked doors stand beside America's final transcontinental railroad, the Milwaukee Road. The old platform on the far side still rests next to the remnants of the old double track mainline, but the presence of the rails is deceptive here. They end just west of town, and extend only to the old shops to the east. The rails are rusty, weed grown, and quiet.

Another year is upon this old gateway in Miles City, and another season of holiday travels will pass without the rush of anticipation that is a coming passenger train. The Columbian and Olympian have not called here for decades, and it seems likely these locked doors will not open for holiday travelers any time soon. The quiet in these old gateways, bereft of holiday bustle, seems especially pronounced in a season of family memories and travels.

The Romance

2009-11-01T12:20:00.000-08:00

It’s almost midnight in Pittsburgh this brisk November evening in 1996. My breath hangs in the air as I step out of a cab and walk quickly into Penn Station. The single escalator is moving the wrong direction so I take the stairs up to the old platforms. A lonely Amtrak diesel, number 310, is idled peacefully on a spur, retired for the night. As I wait on the platforms of Pittsburgh’s Penn Station I stare eastward, looking for the late Capitol Limited. Snowflakes slowly drift down through holes in the old train shed.

The Capitol pulls into the station one hour late lead by a new Genesis locomotive. 838 is its number and it leads a set of double-decked Superliner cars on an 800 mile sprint from the nation’s capital to the capital of the heartland. The stop in Pittsburgh is just one of many scheduled throughout the night before arrival in Chicago. The Capitol is nothing like an airplane or bus. You never meet the engineer, reasons for delays are guarded secrets, and the passenger is usually wrong or in the way. But to some, train travel still has its magic.

The Pittsburgh skyline and Golden Triangle slip away as 838 heads us west along the Ohio River and beside old US highways. Near Sewickley the falling snow makes the lights of Conrail’s massive Conway yard soft and diffuse.

The Capitol’s next stop comes at Alliance in the wee hours of the morning. No one is there waiting. Only a few parked cars, a tool shed, and a sign that reads “Chance takers are accident makers” greet the train. With no passengers on or off the Capitol is ready to head west but the snow has become too deep. The automatic switch machines are frozen and one of the crew must wade through the snow and throw them manually. His comment is well received, “someone owes me a cigar for that.”

Cleveland’s distinctive skyline rolls into view as the Capitol creeps its way into the city. Speeds are usually faster here but tonight there are twelve inches of snow on the ground, frozen switches, and long slow freight trains. Leaving town two hours late, we cross “Bridge 1.” This old lift bridge has seen many snowy nights like this one. Fifty years ago, a crack passenger train named the 20th Century Limited waited for a half hour at Bridge 1 while a novice bridge operator let a barge pass beneath it. Those were the days when trains like the 20th Century didn’t wait for anything and the operator was fired. Those were also the days when trains had sleeping cars called Pullmans and didn’t stop in Toledo or Pittsburgh for half an hour to unload mail and packages. But such is the progression of time and there are few on this train who know how different it used to be anyway.

The train is late enough out of Toledo that dawn breaks in western Ohio. The countryside is now distinctly Midwestern, full of harvested cornfields and gently rolling hills. The sun is rising and as the train races along at 80 it kicks fresh snow up and into the orange sky. For me, this is the romance and magic of railroading; a connection to the past and a forgotten soul of a nation. Chicago is still five hours to the west and we’ll pull in 3 hours late but it doesn’t matter, the trip has already been worth it.

Nighttime in Chicago is a beautiful collage of color and people. In Union Station the scene is more subdued. The stately marble and granite give the old Grand Concourse an impersonal and intimidating feeling, recalling times when the Pennsylvania Railroad called itself “The Standard Railroad of the World” and its pride was the Pullman only passenger train named the Broadway Limited. In 1902 the train was premiered in New York as the Pennsylvania Special just a short distance from the New York Central’s own premiere festivities, kicking off the storied 20th Century Limited. And so a great rivalry and race was born as the two legendary trains ran the gauntlet between New York and Chicago. The Century ran along the Water Level Route via Buffalo, Cleveland, and Toledo. By contrast the Broadway headed out across the Alleghenies to Pittsburgh and Ft. Wayne. The rivalry lasted until the late sixties when the Century was pulled from service, leaving only the Broadway to soldier on. Amtrak inherited the train in 1971 making it their own premiere eastern train and benchmark for quality service. It was the first train to get matching passenger cars in the seventies; a symbol of progress over the rainbow of colors Amtrak collected from the freight railroads. It survived Penn Central, Conrail, and the rise of the Capitol Limited to the position of “premiere eastern train.” But it couldn’t survive the budget cuts of 1995 and after 93 years of continuous service, the operation ended quietly in 1995.

A million years from streamlined Centuries and Broadways and just off the Grand Concourse in a small waiting room with worn brown carpet and plastic foliage, I stand with a small group of people. We are waiting for the call to board the last train in the station. Yesterday this train wasn’t here, in fact, not since The Broadway has there been a train to New York via Pittsburgh. Even though this train isn’t named the Broadway Limited, the schedule and train numbers are the same. Traditionally train 40, The Broadway, was the last train to depart Chicago and this new train, The Three Rivers, is set to pick up where the Broadway left off. Most passengers waiting with me aren’t aware this is a first run. Fewer are aware that it is the second coming of a railroad legend. I guess it’s understandable since unlike 1902 New York, there is no fanfare.

The train is going to make only one stop between Hammond and Pittsburgh in a little town called Nappanee, Indiana. With so few passenger cars and so many express cars, it looks more like a freight train than an old benchmark for quality service. Leaving Chicago on time behind two venerable F40 locomotives we make our quick stop in Hammond and leave Lake Michigan behind.

The single level Amfleet cars pitch and roll as we outpace the schedule across the dark northern Indiana countryside. The Three Rivers turns out to be a little train with an attitude all it’s own. People stay up all night and play cards in the cafe car but never ask for names; it doesn’t seem important. Farm houses with lighted windows and dark vacant towns with single blinking four way stops slip by outside the window, bearing silent testament to our passing. Unlike the previous night, snow is no problem and the Three Rivers pulls into Pittsburgh twenty minutes early. It’s good to have this train with us again. Pittsburgh is cold and gray and the first flakes of the next snow blow through the station platforms, hurried by a sharp and cutting wind. Only thirty hours have passed, but the ride on the Capitol Limited seems years away as I walk the length of the Three Rivers back into the station. Hailing a cab we pull away from Penn Station and leave 1000 miles and a new beginning behind.

Epilogue: The resurrection of a disbanded railroad icon is a rare thing indeed, but the Three River's time proved as limited as everything else. The abandonment of mail contracts in 2005 led to its demise in March of that year. I wasn't able to share in the last run as I had in the first; time had placed me far away in the lands of the western Hiawathas. Still, the memories of that snowy night and the crisp coolness of the Pittsburgh platforms remain vivid and heartfelt. God, has it really been 13 years?

The Sun Rises

2009-10-21T06:46:00.000-07:00

One of the oft remarked places of note on the Milwaukee's line through Eastern Washington was the large wooden trestle near Pandora. It was a hidden treasure for those who ventured the Pacific Extension beyond the bounds of the electrified districts. This was dark territory and history recounts the accident here when two freights met head-on. These were the final months before the resourceful railroad became part of lore and legend.

Today, the large trestle near Pandora is gone. It has left a large cut in the sweeping curves and large embankments of the Pacific Extension's travels through the Palouse. Fading are the memories of that fatal accident now many years in the past. Recollections of the last runs of orange and black across the rolling Palouse fields are fading as well. Only the abandoned right of way is left to hint that something larger was here before.

These last runs and old sights that now seem so faded point to a larger, disconcerting truth. The things that pass from this place into finality are at best given passing notice. In reality, the sun rises the next day, people get up and go about living their lives, and the world continues on without. Many people and places have passed since the Resourceful Railroad in the west became the quiet memorial that defines it today. In an uncaring forwarding of time, it slips further and further into the fogs of the past and the sun rises on still another day. It takes special effort to recall and put context to the events and people of times past. The stories are deep and meaningful. If you choose to pursue them and take note of them, however, they can lead to something far larger. This is a true call which beckons us to remember what has come before. It requires sacrifice and perseverance so that the rising sun of another day will not simply be an uncaring and insignificant forwarding of time. Instead it will be used to ask, to seek, and to knock.

Kingdom of Idols

2009-10-01T08:08:00.001-07:00

In the shadows of the old U.S. 2 lane highway, a portion of the Milwaukee Road's Lines West sits basking in the hot summer sun. The nights are frigid here, but the days are hot and dry.

In many places, it seems one could simply relay the rails of America's final transcon. At Cyr, however, this bridge over the Clark Fork River is gone. One of the victims of the scrappers and the bankruptcy of days past.

The thoughtful quiet of Cyr pales in comparison to some of the remote sections of the Rocky Mountain division. Although US 10 has been relegated to a service road, its replacement is not far away. A few hundred feet to the south, just out of eyeshot but never out of earshot, lies the modern transcon: I-90. While in many ways a symbol of American success and personal freedom, it remains a reminder of the price of the Milwaukee's failure. The continuous noise of all season radials on concrete echo along the Clark Fork River while the best engineered railroad to the West sits as a historical marker.

The idols of the ages change from time to time, but it's not hard to determine what they are. We rest in one of entitlement and gratification, one that quickly moves beyond past accomplishments for which we have no personal use. Our current idols have plotted an interesting course that is just now coming into clearer focus. The destination does not always seem appetizing, but the howl of radials along the Clark Fork remind us of its coming.

Montana Skies

2009-09-18T09:50:00.000-07:00

Skies tell a remarkable story in their ever changing features and moods. Sunsets in the summer often speak of a long day's field work in hot weather. Wintery moon rises in a clear sky speak of cold infinities. At one point the sky seems happy and celebratory, at another, somber and moody. The skies over the Milwaukee Road's west have revealed all of these and more.

Few remaining stretches of Lines West show their ties to the Milwaukee's unique early 20th century signature. While all of the western roads can boast of high bridges and long tunnels, the Milwaukee created a unique calling card in the form of its catenary. While the Northern Pacific was never far from the Milwaukee's western extension, it was never difficult to tell the two lines apart. As they made their way across Montana's ever changing landscapes, the wooden poles supporting the electric lifeline to Milwaukee power were a clear sign and symbol of the Resourceful Railroad. Railroad legend often links the electrification with the health of the railroad in general. Many associate the Milwaukee's ultimate demise with its decision in the mid seventies to eliminate electric operations. A review of fuel economy and fuel prices adds significant credibility to this argument: the electrics posed a significant cost savings compared to the diesels that replaced them. This author has noted the correlation in the past, referring to the Little Joes as Orange Canaries.

On a cool summer day, unlike may of the hot afternoons felt across the wide plains of Montana, one of the few catenary poles still stands. 35 years have passed since the last Joe passed beneath it. Almost 30 have passed since the railroad passed. With the old lineside poles keeping it company, it stands still as a signature left behind. The skies above on this cool day take a somber and quiet tone, fitting well the events that have transpired here.

4 Years of Memories

2009-09-06T14:42:00.000-07:00

From the archives, now four years back:

In the late winter of 1977 (December 19 to be exact), the last transcontinental railroad that was built in America filed for Chapter 11 Bankruptcy protection. Its lines across the mid-west and west lay in ruins as a result of a complicated and inter-twined series of events that, at best, are difficult to understand. The winter of 1979 would be its final winter and in 1980 The Milwaukee Road sold its Western Extension to scrapers from Terry, MT to Tacoma, WA. The company that emerged (with track only in the Midwest) would last only five more years before being sold to The Soo Line, thus completely ending the granger railroad that never really came to grips with being a large transcontinental route.

As a matter of fact, the 1970s weren't a happy time for railroads in general. At least up until the Enron fiasco, the record for most money lost in a single day by a corporation was held by the Penn-Central Railroad. The Rock Island Railroad would, like the Milwaukee, file for bankruptcy protection and be gone as a corporation by March 1980 and its occasionally rumored merger partner to the east, the Erie-Lackawanna, would be bankrupt and put under the wings of Conrail in 1979.

So what makes The Milwaukee Road special? Perhaps it is its bold and scenic route across the upper Mid-west and West that pits it against five mountain ranges. Perhaps it is its storied love affair with electrified operations through the Rockies and Cascades. Or perhaps it is the people and towns that it has left behind to wonder at its passing and marvel at the scale of its failure. For whatever the reason, the old road is fascinating to me and I'll post some more thoughts and history as I feel led.
It was an introduction to something I felt passionate about sharing: The Milwaukee Road and the journey it has been. Long dark tunnels, abandoned schools, old elevators, and lonely sunsets across the West. Again and again I found myself out along the line these past few years, desperately trying to photograph what was left behind. It has been a journey of a thousand miles, started with a single step.

These travels, however, have led me to more than just the Milwaukee itself. On occasion, I have been confronted with the realization that we are much smaller than we like to think, that there is something larger, something deeper beyond the noise that surrounds us. It remains a small quiet voice. It is a voice that lurks on the inside, pointing us onward or prodding us to look more closely at what we would normally miss. It is the voice that adds depth, character, and an important sense of reverence for things passed.

These travels have also found me taking in old sights and sounds beyond the scope of Lines West itself. Off the forgotten trails of the Hiawathas and Columbians lie the remains of other places from similar times. The photo above is one such place along the old Rock Island in Eastern Iowa. A wintery day and a cold sunset for a desolate CTC signal, left behind in the aftermath.

Now, with four years of Milwaukee Road under the belt, I am going to expand the scope of the blog for awhile. The Milwaukee will still be present without doubt, but other fallen flags and fallen places will join it in the coming months and, hopefully, years ahead. I hope you will enjoy the continuing journey for there is much to discover. The still quiet voice leads on.

Fading to Quiet

2009-08-28T07:04:00.000-07:00

I remember well my first trip to see the logger in operation on the Milwaukee Road Elk River Branch. It wasn't so long ago, just a few years. Leaves on the bushes and deciduous trees were turning to shades of orange and red. The tamaracks adopted brilliant yellows against the green canopy of evergreens around them. The sky was blue and crystal clear and the crispness of a fall day was at hand.

The outbound train to Clarkia that day glinted off the St. Maries River as empty log cars made their way south to be loaded. It was a small, out of the way railroad located in beautiful Idaho wilderness on an amazing fall day. My slides from the day still show the brilliant colorful hues of the West at its finest.

The railroad itself was in immaculate shape. Heavy rail, rescued from the original Milwaukee mainline along the St. Joe River, was placed on the line's many curves. The trestles and bridges looked fantastic. This was a railroad that dripped Milwaukee history as well: Milwaukee crews still waved from the power and caboose. The sound of GPs that echoed from the canyon walls were the same that had plied the line when wearing black and orange many years before.

Now, just a few years beyond my first encounter with the logger, it seems that life may be coming to an end for these old trains. Rumors have swirled for awhile that Potlach was going to stop using the log trains and give up on the Milwaukee's Elk River Branch altogether. Recent activities and newspaper articles seem to bear this out. Storage cars have been removed from the line between Clarkia and Bovill and, it has been said, that the last loaded log trains have left the Clarkia log deck.

This summer was my most recent, perhaps last, visit to the Milwaukee's branchline to see it in operation. As always the track and equipment were immaculate, the crews friendly. The image above captures the power and caboose heading home in the long rays of a western evening sun. It was a warm day in the Idaho mountains, but the Kodachrome skies were most welcome. It was a nice way to say goodbye to another piece of the Resourceful Railroad. The railroad will continue to haul finished products from St. Maries to Plummer along the old Milwaukee mainline and that will keep some of the equipment and employees around. Perhaps, if the rails to Clarkia and log cars make it through the recession and into another diesel fuel spike, the final chapter may not yet be written. As it stands now, however, another piece of Lines West is quickly slipping away. The aged Milwaukee equipment, the waves from the caboose, and all of those journal bearings rolling down jointed rail are becoming memories and images of the past. It has been a pleasure and blessing to see them as they were.

Interesting Time

2009-08-25T18:13:00.001-07:00

It is an interesting time we find ourselves in. Consider this: we are still able to look back at some of the things that defined the nation's growth and see them as they were. In another 50 years, these relics of past people, past towns, past lives will be truly gone. Another generation, perhaps two, will grow up in these old places and move out into the rest of the world. This movement has been ongoing for decades, but it has an accumulating effect. Little by little, many a bustling little town slowly becomes a quiet field of memory across America's frontier.

In 50 years, a trip along The Milwaukee Road and its Western Extension may still run along US 12, but how many more bridges will be missing? How many more miles of right of way tilled into the fields? How many old grain elevators will be left to mark an old settlement? How many will remember what was?

The photo shows the Handel elevator as it looked in July of 2003. Located near the town of Musselshell, MT the elevator stands on this summer day as the Milwaukee's mainline to the west lays dormant at its feet. You can still see the elevator name painted near the top, still see the tall silhouette from afar much as it was when 40 foot boxcars parked near its loading chutes. Days like this summer present an interesting time: the past is visible here, but only for now. The accumulation of years will see to that.

And the One that Remains

2009-08-13T08:17:00.001-07:00

Only a block or so away from the old yards and station of Deer Lodge, MT rests one of the few tributes to the Milwaukee Road and its Lines West electrification. Resplendent in freshly painted orange and maroon, Little Joe E70 sits in the shadow of the old Deer Lodge prison, welcoming visitors from nearby I-90.

The Joe still reflects the power of the Milwaukee's electrification. The lead pantograph is raised and it looks ready to apply 5000 HP to the point of a transcon freight bound for the mountain crossings of Pipestone Pass or perhaps the Bitterroot Range.

This Joe is the only Milwaukee Joe to escape the torch, although examples of this design still exist in Brazil and Illinois from the other lines that acquired them. The spoked drivers are evident on the unit as are a few nods to its original Soviet Union destination. If one looks closely, the mount points for the bumpers that are so prevalent on European rolling stock are still there, nestled behind the large snow plow on the Joe's pilot. These units reflect a unique time in U.S. history: mounting tensions of the cold war, propaganda and fear at home, and a unique railroad that hung wires along its western mountain lines. It is fascinating to consider the journey that this Joe has been on and what the men and women who worked in and around it were a part of.

Compared to its original scope and ambitions, there are few reminders of the Milwaukee's Western Extension. The freshly painted Joe is certainly prominent among its remaining highlights and worthy of some thoughtful consideration.

The Joe that Never Was

2009-08-07T06:15:00.000-07:00

The Milwaukee Road was famous for its Western electrification. The wires were strung between wooden poles much like an interurban line and images of Boxcab electrics and Little Joes can be found all over the web. Especially photos of the Little Joe electric locomotives. These 5000+ hp monsters plied the Rocky Mountain Division from their purchase in 1950 until the wires came down in 1974.

The story of their arrival on Milwaukee property is well known, but interesting. Originally destined for the Soviet Union in 1946, they found themselves stranded state side due to mounting Cold War tensions. Legend has it they were named "Little Joe" as a reference to the dictator they almost knew. They sat for 2 years at GE's plant in Erie PA before finding homes. Some were taken to South America, 3 others to the South Shore Electric Line, and the remaining 12 to the Milwaukee Road in 1950. It is ironic that one of the problems the Milwaukee faced with its electrification in 1974 was a lack of electric locomotives. They had the opportunity to purchase the entire lot of electrics from GE in 1948 but passed, and as such, lost a few to the other lines. It seems as though the price was right from GE -- they really just wanted them off the lot, but the demo locomotives proved "slippery" on mountain grades and the power supplied through the overhead wire needed a boost from 3000 to 3300V DC to take full advantage of their pulling power. With these modifications made, the 12 the Milwaukee finally obtained in 1950 proved exceptional units until 1974 and the demise of western wires.

Meanwhile, a few thousand miles away from the Milwaukee's Western Extension, America's other electrified railroads on the East Coast were dabbling with their own variety of electric locomotives. Among them the famous GG1 of the Pennsylvania Railroad. Amazingly these GGs worked for up to 4 railroads during their very long lifetime: The Pennsy, Penn Central, Conrail, and Amtrak. Another entry from GE was the EP-5 electric, nicknamed "Jets" because of their loud blower motors as they raced along the New Haven railroad's lines north of New York City.

As the toy train industry boomed in the 1950s, models of the PRR GG1 and N.H. EP-5 were both well represented by the iconic Lionel corporation. Both models took a few liberties with length (or in the case of the EP-5, length and axle count), but certainly captured the look of the real units. In Lionel's history, it was the N.H. EP-5 that came first in their line of EP-5s, but it was not the last. While the real world limited the use of the Jet to the east coast and the New Haven RR specifically, Lionel saw no need to limit its model to that one particular niche. Proudly following on the heals of the N.H. model, came the Milwaukee Road EP-5 and the Great Northern EP-5. Both pretty models but fantasy in the tradition of toy trains of the period. Instead of Jets, they were even referred to as Little Joes.

Hence, we have the Little Joe that never was. There are some similarities between the Jet and Joe: the cabs have a similar GE style, and at first glance they appear to be quite similar units overall with their dual pantographs and streamlined stylings. The Jet was just a few years newer (1955) and, like the Joe, had ceased being used by the mid 70s. By 1977 all examples were scrapped. They remained thousands of miles apart in the real world: one chewing through miles and miles of mountainous, lonesome terrain and the other on sprints between the big cities of the East Coast. In Lionel world, however, lashups were common.

Powder Blues and Old Emblems

2009-07-21T09:58:00.000-07:00

The Milwaukee Road had a couple of impressive crossings of the Missouri River. One, located on the Western Extension at Mobridge. The second, located a bit to the south at Chamberlain, SD. These are but two examples of the impressive engineering that went into this old railroad's westward progress.

Chamberlain is a small town in South Dakota in the lands of rolling prairie and tall grasses. Not too far away, a famed author would later recount her days growing up in De Smet as her father worked on building the railroad west in a little house on the prairie. This is that country.

Memories of the Milwaukee are found out in this sea of grasses as well. The old line across this part of South Dakota still rolls along with the gentle hills, but train movements are exceptionally rare.

In Chamberlain rests the remains of many Milwaukee relics from years past. On this day, a pair of old SD-9 locomotives rest silently by the old depot on the outskirts of town. Keeping company are an assortment of dormant switch stands, boxcars, old passenger cars, and some aging company vehicles. The famous tilted rectangle still adorns many of the pieces here in Chamberlain, although it is clear that time is taking its toll and they wear the mark of the fallen. What was one of the preferred colors prominent in the 1970s - that amazing powder blue - is faded and cracked as is the logo on the door. Standing tall in the background, the remnants of another tilted rectangle looks on.

The dilapidation of an old strategic link in the transportation system is quiet and sad in places like Chamberlain. By dynamic contrast, I-90 rolls along outside of town destined for its own crossing of the Missouri River. Its massive 4 lanes and howling all-season radials are anything but quiet and faded blues. At least so far.

Mists

2009-06-25T10:54:00.000-07:00

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

2009-06-09T14:28:00.000-07:00

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

2009-06-04T08:34:00.001-07:00

Kamm, MT

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

The Sun Sets West

2009-05-25T08:44:00.000-07:00

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

2009-05-20T13:34:00.001-07:00

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

2009-05-05T10:37:00.000-07:00

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

2009-04-30T14:11:00.001-07:00

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

2009-04-17T06:59:00.001-07:00

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

2009-03-31T07:19:00.000-07:00

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

2009-03-17T09:44:00.001-07:00

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

2009-02-23T08:57:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-12T08:21:00.001-08:00

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

2009-01-19T09:43:00.000-08:00

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

2008-12-24T05:25:00.000-08:00

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

2008-12-20T09:22:00.001-08:00

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.

Big Iron

2008-11-24T08:51:00.000-08:00

There's not much argument when it comes to one aspect of the Milwaukee Road: it built things on a large scale and to a high degree of quality.

Spanning the valley at Tekoa, WA is an enormous steel trestle that bears witness to this fact. For decades it lofted the Milwaukee's freights across the valley floor and the tracks of the Union Pacific in this small Eastern Washington town. Here, and in many other locations like Tekoa, the Milwaukee "simply" built across the valley, dwarfing the small town and the Union Pacific branch in the process.

Today the big iron of the Tekoa trestle stands as the easternmost portion of the John Wayne trail, although it is closed to the public. The Union Pacific that existed beneath the Milwaukee's Pacific Coast Mainline is gone as well, leaving the old railroad town of Tekoa without any of the lines that supported it for so long. The past isn't forgotten by this little town, however, as signs sporting large black silhouettes of the Milwaukee trestle still encourage travelers on nearby US 95 to stop by for a visit.

Out in the rolling hills of the Eastern Washington Palouse, the abandoned Milwaukee main finds itself in good company with many other lines that have fallen to scrappers and "progress." The Union Pacific, the Northern Pacific, and the Great Northern all had lines that split the rolling wheat fields through here. Most of them have suffered the same fate as the Pacific Coast Extension and now lie as reminders of times past. In places like Tekoa, however, the reminders of the Milwaukee remain larger and more impressive. Just like when they were built.

The Recurring Question

2008-11-07T13:58:00.000-08:00

What really happened out there? In 1974, at the peak of traffic on Lines West, what really happened? In the waning years of the seventies, what really happened? I'm not sure, I wasn't there.

My first brush with the Milwaukee Road came in the early 80s, from out the backseat window of an old red Suburban that occasionally crossed the Cascade Range on the way to Sand Point. I knew nothing about it, except those trestles sure were neat. One trip, I remember the trestle at Renslow had ties strewn about its approaches and I wondered 'why?' even as a small child.

The question still remains and remains unanswered - why? From my chair in front of the computer, now a few thousand miles and a few decades away I try to imagine all of the forces that played on the fallen transcon. Double-counted maintenance expenses in the last years of operation. Maintenance left undone in 1975. Electrics scrapped whose value to operation was well established. A marathon of derailments in the Bitterroots. An unfriendly and corrupt politician in Seattle. Derelict lines of locomotives in the cold winters of '78 and '79. Reports that showed the promise of the line for modest repair costs that were never invested. Unsuccessful attempts at mergers. Poor accounting. Political positioning. And still, at the very end, it seems Lines West actually made some profit in spite of this list of sufferings.

So we're left with a whole lot of nothing. No silver-bullet answer and a 1200 mile scar across 3 western states where an American icon used to roam. There is a depth to the death of this line that makes it difficult to understand while my own passions make it difficult to stomach. I can only imagine what it was like for the people who actually were there and saw it happen. The brief periods of hope when rumors of government bailouts or interested buyers surfaced. The encouraging reports of rehabilitation costs. But in the end, it's gone and the question remains.

Today, there is a sadness out along those lines. I've noted before in other posts the restlessness you can feel in the gentle breezes that accompany the quiet of the old line. The feelings of anxiety and unresolved tension. The story that comes from out along this line begs telling, but the story has no clear outline and the resolution is disquieting and concerning. And always that one question remains. Always.

So much potential, so much quiet. Why.

Days End

2008-10-16T09:22:00.000-07:00

Location: Ruff, Wa.

It's the end of a warm fall day in Central Washington and the heat of the day belies the cold night that lies ahead. It has been a day of wandering the old Marcellus Branch of the Milwaukee Road, and as the sun sets at Ruff, I think about how it has been a day filled with sagebrush, coulees and ghost towns. These are common occurrences in the land of Hiawathas, although it seems as though I never quite get used to the feeling. The quiet invites time for reflection, while the vast openness of the dry plains makes even the biggest of us feel very small.

Progress seemed to come slowly, or not at all, along this old line. When the line was removed after the final bankruptcy, the rails were still original 65lb material and it seems as though more than a few ties never saw a tie plate. Vintage 40' ribside boxcars roamed the rails here to the bitter end even in places like Ruff with its high capacity elevators. Unit trains were common on the line, but trains of weathered ribside boxcars and not today's high capacity hoppers. Despite this, it seems the line contributed significant revenue to the Milwaukee's struggling balance sheets even in the final years of operation. The grain harvests were large and outbound loads would sometimes have to double or triple the grade out of Ruff on their way to Othello and the coast.

With night falling along the Wheat Line, it brings this day to a close. The elevators at Ruff are slipping into another cool night of quiet out on the Washington plains and soon darkness will envelope them. The drive out of the Milwaukee's wheat country will be under a full array of stars. Such is days end on the Wheat Line; quiet and beautiful, memorable, and more than a bit humbling.

Blowing Desert Winds

2008-10-02T22:01:00.000-07:00

There are a few places along the Milwaukee Road that seem to hold special significance in the hearts of Milwaukee fans. Places like Harlowton, where the famous Rocky Mountain Division began, as did all of those amazing mountain passes. Places like East Portal, where the enormous substation and Bitterroot Mountains are etched in so many Kodachromes of the day. Places like Othello.

Today, there's not much Milwaukee Road to see in Othello. Rails come in from Warden, stopping along the way at a few local industries, then head out of town under state route 26 before finally disappearing from view, rolling west into the dry desert lands. Large and vacant plots of sagebrush are scattered to the west of downtown where the Road once had an expansive yard and engine terminal. Here in Othello, in the days of electrification, trains would swap their steam or diesel power that assisted them across the electrification gap between Othello and Avery for Boxcabs and Bipolars headed to the coast. Switch jobs like the Mosey Local called Othello home, as did employees who were based out of the old depot long after the days of the Columbian and Olympian.

Othello survives today without the jobs of a transcon or the continual sounds from a working rail yard. Quiet is the order of the day around the foundations of the roundhouse and a few old spurs that cling to the Central Washington dust. Othello holds a special place in today's Milwaukee Road, however: in a rare occurrence, the mainline is preserved through town. Though the majority of the yards are gone, the path of the main artery still exists, curving ever so gently on its way out of town beneath Route 26. Ground wires still bond the rails together here and its easy to find oneself stepping back in time, imagining the way things were. As a final nod to what has been, old rusting signals stand like sentinels along the mainline. Their targets long removed, they wait quietly for whatever will come in the blowing desert wind.

Times of Optimism

2008-09-16T14:02:00.000-07:00

It's easy to think of the Milwaukee Road and its Pacific Coast Extension as the place where the Little Joes toiled on Montana mountain grades, or as the stomping grounds of Boxcabs and Bipolars. Images from the line's glory years reveal a cross-country mainline and company that seems undaunted in the face of famous names like Great Northern and Northern Pacific. There's an optimism associated with these photos and memories. Perhaps the passing of time has added a veneer of romance to the entire affair - maybe the BiPolars weren't always shiny or the Joes always ready to head a freight up St. Paul Pass, but it's hard to see that in those amazing photos of Olympian Hiawathas and freights like the XL Special.

This optimism could be found off the beaten path of the mainline as well. Hopes were high when the Milwaukee built its Northern Montana line. Its east-west line from Lewistown to Great Falls was envisioned as a second mainline to parallel the original. A large and magnificent station was built in Great Falls, replete with an unforgettable tower to watch over the Milwaukee's expansion. Grand trestles spanned large coulees while tunnels linked the line together in the same style as the mainline to the pacific coast. The wheat poured from the line to feed the original main at Harlowton while oil was pulled from the ground around Lewistown. These were grand times.

Somewhere along the way, however, the optimism gave way to a stark reality. Later pictures of Little Joes and Boxcabs show dirty paint and countless miles. Hiawathas were discontinued to the coast by 1961, the Bipolars leaving the property shortly thereafter. Fast freights like the XL Special would first lose their name, then lose their schedule as the east-west traffic became the home of Dead Freights and worn out locomotives. The second mainline across Montana was never completed; the Northern Montana line destined to be a feeder for the original main its entire life. Light rails and tall grasses would mark its final years as tired locomotives hauled ancient boxcars to small elevators lost in the enormity of Montana skies.

To know the Milwaukee is to know the duality of optimism and reality of the lines and the places it served. Today, along the Northern Montana lines, the quiet reality of places like Red Coulee (above) shout out this duality. Here, the promise of progress and early optimism have faded. They are replaced by a quiet reality filled with the sounds of swishing grasses or the call of Red Wing Blackbirds. Old telegraphy poles still dot the right of way through here, gray with age and leaning precariously. The darkness of Tunnel IV at Red Coulee no longer holds the promise of a locomotive headlight and we're stuck with the uncomfortable idea that times change and optimism can give way to quiet.

Majesty of the Cascades

2008-09-03T13:46:00.001-07:00

Some of the most famous Milwaukee Road photos have come from its beautiful crossing of the Cascades via Snoqualmie pass. Like most everything else on the Western Extension, the workmanship remains second to none and the lasting power of the old line in this wet climate is a tribute to those who built it nearly 100 years ago. Old catenary supports still grace many of the trestles on the west side of the pass, recalling old publicity photos with new Bi-polar electrics or box-cabs pulling varnish east toward the big cities in the Midwest. Even though it's been more than 45 years, it's easy to imagine some of the last Olympian Hiawathas behind yellow e-units making their charge up the hill here as well.

Like the Bitterroot crossing, Snoqualmie pass is popular with mountain bikers and is not nearly the lonely outpost that are places like Boyleston and the Saddles. The proximity of I90 on the far side of the valley offer continual glimpses of "civilization" from the line's many trestles. It was these west-side trestles that I spied as a young child from the rear windows of an old Suburban. I didn't know a thing about the Milwaukee Road, but the trestles always fascinated me whenever my family headed east over Snoqualmie Pass. Often obscured by rain and mist, their looming presence high on the hills is still seared in my mind, now many years later.

While trestles and wet, dark forest dominate the west slope of Snoqualmie pass, the east side is approached with relative ease as the Milwaukee's mainline makes its way up gentle grades to the old substation and town of Hyak. Though the substation has been removed, some operator houses remain near the large parking lot for those biking the line.

East of Hyak, along the quiet shores of lake Keechelus, evidence of the line's old automatic block signals can be found in the ditch by the right of way. Nature is taking this old sentinel back, but its ladder and old silver paint are unmistakable. It's easy to miss this relic, I found it by accident, but it recalls some of the finest times and highest hopes in the Western Extension's history. Before the first bankruptcies, while the railroad was considered one of the wonders of the age and its bold mountain crossings and electrification were admired around the world, these signals kept company with the newest transcon. As time wore on, they saw the demise of Bi-polars and boxcabs, the arrival of SD40s, the predominance of Dead Freights, and finally the end itself.

The crossing of the Cascades stands in stark contrast to its other mountain crossings. The mountains are high and unparalleled in their sheer vertical reach toward the sky. Rains pelt the landscape around the pass much of the year and snows here are measured in feet instead of inches. Across the great pass lies the Emerald City and the end of the line for the Milwaukee. While the other passes were "on the way" to the Northwest's ports, Snoqualmie pass was in some sense the arrival and welcome. This is where we leave this series on the Milwaukee's mountain crossings. The bold undertaking is undeniable and the railroad's vision and strategy to go west remain impressive. Though it has been gone for over a quarter century, I can't help but wonder whether the line's Pacific Coast Extension still holds some promise for the future. Grain and doublestacks across the country's best constructed transcon? In a world of high energy costs, well, I can't help but wonder. Maybe, just maybe, the final chapter has yet to be written.

The Saddles

2008-08-19T15:06:00.001-07:00

Washington is called the "Evergreen State," but there are parts of it that defy that title. The Milwaukee Road's path across the Saddle Mountains is situated in one such high desert where the rains rarely fall and the sage brush tumbles with the blistering hot winds.

After climbing the Bitterroots and descending into the St. Joe River valley, the Milwaukee Road blazes a path out across the Eastern Washington Palouse where some of the most fertile soils in the world support an amazing bounty of grain. As the line works its way west, however, the grasses give way to dry scab lands and the annual rain fall decreases until the line finds itself in the Central Washington high desert. It is here, in this desert country, travelers on nearby I90 are warned to turn off their car a/c as they climb the grueling grade from the Columbia River Valley towards Kittitas. After crossing the mighty Columbia at Beverly, the Milwaukee Road climbs the same mountains to finally crest the Saddles at Boyleston.

There is so much that can be written about this pass. I've pondered my experiences here before, and perhaps for another perspective, you may revisit my first writings about the Saddle Mountains from the archives, called "Following the Call." In Milwaukee Road lore, it's a pass known to be the steepest on the entire Pacific Extension, 2.2 %. The line snakes its way from the Columbia Valley floor through sand, sagebrush, and high heat during the west's long summer days. The torture of trains climbing the line can be experienced first hand should you decide to bike the ascent: the sandy roadbed clings to bike tires.

This pass was also the home of the Milwaukee Road's Bipolar fleet that towed the road's crack passenger trains out across the desert in a streak of orange and maroon. The old substation at Doris has been demolished, but the foundation still sits on one of the line's many curves. Ancient barbed wire and the remains of operator houses still lie at rest here as well. On the way up the grade, old names with no places go by. Names long forgotten like Cheviot and Rye.

At the crest of the grade, tunnel 45 sits silent and dark. I met the Lord here once. Perhaps that sounds quite insane, and even now as I write this, I must agree that it doesn't sound "normal." Still, the experience sent me down one of life's great journeys and the Milwaukee has played an important part. It's funny that in places like this high desert, one can actually feel history, feel a certain heaviness about times past and a world that has moved on. I've learned over the years since my encounter with tunnel 45 that God really seems to care about history and there's significance to be found in remembering that which came before.

The sunsets can be amazing atop the crest of the Saddles. The eerie oranges of desert heat and dust make the landscape seem all the more daunting and huge. It's easy to feel small here in the Saddles and, for me, that's one of the amazing things about the Milwaukee. Just how big it is and how many different passes and places the old line still traverses. For each of the 5 mountain ranges the line crossed, there seem to be an infinite number of quiet old places that rest silent and still.

Next time: the Cascade Mountain's best crossing and the final mountain range crossed by the "Resourceful Railroad."

Journal Boxes on the STMA

2008-07-21T15:53:00.000-07:00

Nestled in the Idaho Panhandle, along the Milwaukee Road's old western extension mainline, lies St. Maries, ID. St. Maries isn't so far from the famous Milwaukee Road 'hotspot' of Avery. Today, however, St Maries is a very different place from Avery. As the electrification ended in 1974, Avery withered. The engine facilities became unused and the yard was gradually pulled up for scrap. Trains no longer added Little Joe locomotives for their climb up St. Paul Pass and Avery was no longer a designated crew change. The formal abandonment and dismemberment of the early 80s saw all tracks gone across the pass and through Avery. The high iron that had been nestled in the Bitterroots was replaced by a blacktop highway. Where the substation stood, a simple memorial now rests.

The old crew change at Avery moved to St. Maries, just a few miles down the St. Joe river, for the final years of the Milwaukee Road's western operations. Unlike the yard and facilities at Avery, St. Maries still bustles with the activity of railroad operations courtesy of the St. Maries River Railroad. Even more interesting is the prevalence of old Milwaukee rolling stock, locomotives, and employees who can trace a seniority date back to the days of orange and black SD40-2s. The mainline from St. Maries to Plummer still exists to serve the local forestry industries and the connection with the UP at Plummer remains as a sole connection to the outside world.

South out of St. Maries, the Milwaukee line to Clarkia still exits under the STMA RR. Today's railroad carries logs for Potlatch Corp on ancient flats that boast 'R'age markings - cars too old to be interchanged off home rails. Like the classic log hauler it has always been, the trains head south full of empty flats with journal boxes, clanking down the jointed rail as they head for loading at Clarkia. Once dropped in the yard at Clarkia, loads head slowly north, back to the mill at St. Maries. Power is supplied by a pair of ex-Milwaukee GPs that ply their old home rails every trip.

The St. Maries River Railroad is an amazing operation through magnificent mountain country. It is appropriately known as the last full logging operation left in the US. With the mill and log reload still operating, the STMA continues to operate as the Milwaukee intended. As has been the case with other logging operations, however, one can't help but wonder how long this can last. Hopefully it lasts for a long time as it remains one of the last Milwaukee outposts in the West. The abundance of old Milwaukee equipment makes it even more special.

Dust of the Bitterroots

2008-07-02T09:10:00.000-07:00

Spring comes late to the Bitterroot Mountains and St. Paul Pass. While much of the country begins to warm beneath summer suns, the mountains slowly begin to show the signs of spring in full bloom. The small meadows that dot the slopes between dark forested slopes awaken in full color.

A few hundred feet below St. Paul Pass, and the old substation foundation at East Portal, lies the area known as Taft. Taft was a small town built as the railroad pushed its way westward across this third mountain range. In its prime Taft was fully a Hell on Wheels town, filled with railroad workers and liquor. In later years, it quietly dwindled and was a stop along old US-10 at the base of Lookout Pass. The coming of the interstate saw Taft paved over with concrete and forgotten but for an interstate exit sign that says "Taft Area." After the interstate's arrival, even the small cemetery was seemingly buried by the interstate's grade and its location remains somewhat of a mystery to this day.

Not far from the old site of Taft, along the narrow gravel road that takes travelers up to East Portal and the site of the old substation, lies another cemetery of sorts. Old wooden catenary poles, grey with age, lie at the base of the grade to East Portal among the wildflowers that bloom in the late mountain spring. These are just a few leftovers from the Milwaukee's assault on St. Paul Pass, now discarded and left to history. It isn't clear how they ended up near the old site of Taft, perhaps they were piled up to be disposed of, then left to age on their own. Whatever the reason, they rest here quietly just like the old railroad that lurks high on the forested slope behind them. Taft, the Milwaukee's Pacific Extension, and its bold electrification: all silent and standing in strange contrast to the warmth of the sun and the color of nature around them.

This, perhaps, is one of the most disturbing things about these old places. As they turn to dust, the world continues to move on without them. What was once a "wonder of the world," is now history in a small mountain field or gravel between tall fir trees. The thunderous roar of trains on an ascent to St. Paul pass is but a cold shiver on a beautiful spring day and a memory of times long past.

I must now take a break from this journey through the Milwaukee's mountain passes. Unfortunately, I find myself away from my photo collection. The next entries will focus on some more recent outings, perhaps along the St. Marries River Railroad. Nonetheless, this quest to travel the Milwaukee's 5 mountain ranges is not forgotten. It will return -- the Saddle Mountain pass is a most interesting mountain crossing, for many reasons.

Bitterroot Crossing

2008-06-14T18:52:00.000-07:00

One of my first adventures shooting the Milwaukee Road was several years ago on its breathtaking Bitterroot Mountain crossing. There are few other places where the Milwaukee's original vision and commitment are displayed so boldly. The shear scale of this mountain pass is humbling, made all the more so by the many trestles and tunnels that dot this mountain range.

There were several routes considered by the Milwaukee as potential crossings into the Idaho Panhandle. The route up the Clark Fork had been claimed by the NP many years previous and the potential crossing into the Clearwater River valley posed problems as well. Although I've never come across this, I suspect the presence of the UP and NP in the form of the Camas Prairie Railroad may have weighed heavily in the decision to leave the Clearwater Route alone. In the end, it was reported to Milwaukee management that a potential crossing of the Bitterroots south of Wallace, ID showed the most promise and it was this route that was selected to cross this third range.

For many years, the largest substation on the entire extension sat at the top of the pass at East Portal, MT. Just to the west, the line plunged into the depths of St. Paul Pass and the 1.5 mile long tunnel that bore the line into the state of Idaho. Today, on the western edge of the tunnel at Roland, there remain a few foundations of the station and houses that once stood beside the line. Scattered remains of catenary poles still dot the right of way through the mountains as the line descends from its crest to the St. Joe River at Avery. An old boxcar door rests beside the right of way near mile 1751. Perhaps the remains of one of the many derailments that plagued the Road toward the end of its life?

While the pass hasn't seen a train since 1980, it still sees plenty of traffic in the form of mountain bikers who ride the old road bed over the high trestles and through the many dark tunnels. It was the biking of this old line that really convinced me to pursue the entire Milwaukee story across the West, launching five years of pursuit and thousands of pictures.

As I think back to my first adventure on this pass I'm still torn apart by how big the line was and how gone the line is. Perhaps that seems a recurring theme in my writing, however, there is little escaping the gravity of what happened, nor the magnitude. There are two places where the sadness of this old railroad really hits me. The first: under the enormous skies of Central Montana or Central Washington. The second, atop the grand mountain passes now all too quiet.

The quiet is even more amplified by winter snows. The bikers and sightseers are gone, leaving the mountains to await warmer weather. St. Paul Pass is beautiful during these times, although difficult to access. At Falcon, one of the old passing sidings and small towns along the line, the deep blue of a winter sky stands in contrast to the dark trees that cover the mountains. The wind blows and those who journey to this lonesome place quickly find themselves alone on one of America's great mountain passes. Alone with their thoughts, and with the old memories of times past. This is the Bitterroot crossing, where the Milwaukee Road showed true grit.

Vendome

2008-06-12T13:44:00.000-07:00

There are many places where the Milwaukee's Pacific Coast Extension seems so well kept that rails could be relaid today and trains could run tomorrow. Vendome, MT is one of those places.

As the Milwaukee pushed west, it began its climb out of the Jefferson River Valley and up one of the famous loops of western railroading: Vendome Loop. On this stormy day in 2005 the old path of the right of way is still clear beneath the bridge of highway 41. The first of many sweeping curves begins the road's assault on the mountain grade as it heads toward the summit of the Rocky Range. Old AC power lines are still in place here and the surroundings look little changed from days when boxcabs pushed trains up and over the pass. This area on the east side of the Rockies lies in a rain shadow, and trees are sparse just as they were 30 years ago when the last dead freights fought their way upgrade.

Old US-10 closely parallels the line and they both climb the slopes of the Rockies together to a summit at Pipestone Pass. Today traffic on the old highway is sparse for, just like the railroad, both have been replaced by the I-90 crossing just a few miles north. However, it is interesting to ponder these once prominent overland routes, now bypassed and overlooked. As US-10 snakes its way down from the summit on the west side of the range, the Milwaukee's own tunnel marking the summit crossing is just visible through the trees. How long has it been since a "Super Dome" laden Hiawatha plunged into the depths of the old tunnel? Since the iconic 4-beam sealed headlights of an electric locomotive split the darkness? It's been too long.

The Milwaukee Road left behind a sprawling signature that, even today, is obvious across the face of the West. Through mountains, across canyons, along rivers and through prairies the signature remains. Nonetheless, memories of the "Electric way across the Mountains" keep fading and so-called progress keeps pushing us forward. Forward and away from a time when Pipestone Pass echoed with Thunderhawk freights and Boxcab electrics.

Loweth and the Belt Mountains

2008-05-25T09:32:00.000-07:00

The sweeping compound curve of the Milwaukee's attack on the Belt Mountains is as obvious today as it was 30 years ago when some of the last trains passed this way. In better times, telegraphy and catenary poles dotted the right of way through here while Little Joes and Boxcabs plied the rails between them. At the crest of this, the first of five mountain ranges, the ancient substation at Loweth still stands watch over the now silent right of way. Cows quietly munch the grasses at its feet as they pick their way carefully through the foundations of the crew houses that remain here as well.

Loweth, and the crest of the Belt Mountains, stand in the quiet Big Sky country of Montana. Here the rainy season is short and the summers are hot and dry. This is rattlesnake country. Track crews would often walk the line with snake sticks to fend off the wildlife. Even without the ghosts of an abandoned transcontinental railroad nearby, there is an undeniable loneliness to the landscape. The railroad has indeed left its share of hauntings through here though. The right of way still sports occasional track side signals. Now with their lenses shot out, they seem hollow and sad. As the wind gently blows through this hot summer day, the faint electrical hum of a substation can be heard as well. It's eerie to imagine it comes from the old brick structure with its broken windows and gaping dark interior. Its source, however, is across the two-lane asphalt road where a more modern substation sits behind a decidedly modern chainlink fence. Loweth is one of those places where it's easy to feel small and lost.

On this summer day in 2003, there are no friendly Milwaukee crews to wave to or substation operators to chat with. The struggles of westbound freights up the compound curves is lost to the past. As this was never helper territory, their struggles were at times quite heroic. This was mountain railroading -- the roars of superchargers and traction motor blowers would have been amazing, especially compared to the silence that rests here now. To the west of the summit the line begins its decent toward Ringling and 16 mile canyon. A lone ABS signal peaks through the cut in the photo as the giant Rocky Mountains lay waiting in the distance. This is the next crossing the Milwaukee would have to make on its way to the Puget Sound. Beautiful on this day, but tall and challenging. Here we leave the Belt Mountains behind and set our sights, just as the Milwaukee did, on the Rockies that lie beyond.

True Grit

2008-05-16T12:11:00.000-07:00

If nothing else, the decision to push the modest granger railroad, known at the time as the St. Paul Road, west to the land of the Pacific Northwest was bold. Very bold.

In its path were two well established competitors in the form of the Northern Pacific and the Great Northern. Both had already laid vast claims to coastal traffic before the Milwaukee Road even considered its Pacific Coast Extension.

Not only were there two established competitors, but between the Midwest and the Northwest lay several mountain ranges that would require enormous engineering and construction efforts to cross. By the time the route was finally selected, the Milwaukee would cross five ranges.

Yet, in spite of these obstacles, the decision was made to go west and then undertaken with all practical speed and the best construction techniques available. To accompany the push west, the Milwaukee established an all out marketing blitz to encourage farmers and others to move west along its new lines. The building of Lines West led to a renewed interest in the railroads in general as well as the relocation and settlement of farmers from the Midwest. Today the left overs of this push west can be seen along the abandoned right of way in the small ghost towns that dot central Montana.

And it is at this point the story becomes a bit cloudy. There are many who suggest that the costs of the Pacific extension greatly exceeded the original estimates (including myself at one time) but the reality is a bit unclear. What is clear, however, is the number of bankruptcies that dotted the company's history including the final one in late 1977. Perhaps it was a poor decision to build the line, perhaps not. Nonetheless, built it was and when it was completed, it was amazing.

This was a serious, serious railroad built to high specs and built to last. The quality of its construction is still obvious today in the many bridges and miles of road bed left in relatively good states of repair. It was also a serious mountain railroad, crossing five ranges on its way to the coast. Over the next several blog entries I'm going to explore each crossing beginning with the Road's crossing of the Belt Mountains at Loweth, MT.

In the picture above, the old substation at Loweth still stands. This is the summit of the Milwaukee's first mountain crossing and it is here that we will begin a look at the Milwaukee Road's True Grit.

Places and Spaces

2008-04-24T14:18:00.000-07:00

Transcontinental. For some, the word conjures up visions of black and white photos at Promontory where the CP and UP met, linking the nation by rail. For others, its mention recalls the big cities of the west coast like San Francisco and LA - destination points of a country increasingly on the move.

These are just a couple of things that might come to mind when thinking about transcons. What doesn't come immediately to mind for many (myself included much of the time), is what the transcontinental lines actually crossed to join the nation together. For every glistening end-point like LA or Seattle, there are thousands of small little towns clinging to the same steel link. Between these small towns are miles and miles of open space.

Out in these spaces, time takes on a different meaning. There's no escaping the vast distances that these transcon lines crossed, nor the time it takes to move through them. As we journey the wilderness these lines traversed, little towns flick by quickly as only minor outposts. In places like Seabury (above), the Milwaukee's transcontinental line rolls through the green hills of Washington's Palouse country far from the glitz of port cities or grandeur of mountain crossings like the Cascade Range. Even today, the line is dwarfed by the vastness that surrounds it just as when rails crossed these rolling hills. I think it's a vastness that is cause for reflection and one that characterizes the Milwaukee's transcontinental link. Perhaps this is one of the reasons that its abandonment in 1980 remains so shocking - how much was taken away and the sheer vastness that was left behind. For me, it's a vastness that seems all the more poignant simply because of the silence of this old transcon.

Cold Winters

2008-04-15T12:59:00.000-07:00

The last two winters that gripped the Milwaukee's system before the abandonments of 1980 were harsh. Leased units from the B&O and Canadian National were used to fill in for disabled Milwaukee locomotives in 1978. This was driven by the need to maintain some semblance of system fluidity.

As 1978 wore into 1979 and the first traffic embargoes on Lineswest in October, 1/3 of the locomotive fleet was out of service. Ordered to reactivate the Western Extension soon after, the Milwaukee limped forward with strings of dilapidated GE locos and worn out GPs. The winter across the west was no less inviting than the year before and the best locomotives were forcibly held to points east, away from much of the transcontinental traffic. How sad, to ponder the "Electric Way Across the Mountains" in these final hours, in this final state.

Along the logging branch to Bovill, ID, a few rails remain in the remnants of the yard that still remembers those last cold winters. A classic Milwaukee switch stand leans to the right in the low sun of a cool winter day. A time to reflect on those cold winters, now almost 30 years past.

Prairie Towns

2008-04-03T11:57:00.000-07:00

One of the fixtures on prairie landscapes for the past 100 years has been the local grain elevator. In many places it is stationed next to a railroad line that has seen better, or in many other places, next to an old right of way that no longer hosts rails at all.

While harbingers of efficiency in their day, these old elevators are quickly falling silent as they find themselves surrounded by huge shuttle elevators, capable of loading 100 car unit trains. The days of loading just a few cars at several small elevators along the route seems destined for history books and small photographs adorning a wall in some forgotten museum. In many places, this has already come to pass.

Along the Milwaukee's Northern Montana Lines, this story is unfolding as I write this. Two giant shuttle loaders are being constructed north and south of the old line, promising to quiet many of the remaining grain bins on this old line. At Square Butte, the old Northern Montana line from Great Falls to Lewistown still bakes in the hot summer sun (above), but its only purpose is to support these small elevators that still stand ready.

So far, this portion of the Milwaukee has escaped the fate of its larger transcontinental line to the south, but time marches on and with it, change. Change will leave these old elevators and the small prairie towns they have served for decades alone with history and the ever diminishing remnants of a failed empire.

Two Steps Back

2008-03-05T11:06:00.001-08:00

It was a decade of paradox along America's Resourceful Railroad. In the early 70s, the creation of the Burlington Northern had allowed the Milwaukee Road access to new ports on the west coast. These were a few concessions given the railroad which found itself surrounded by a large and driven competitor. Some would argue that these concessions were far from enough, nonetheless, new markets were opened for the Milwaukee.

The mid-seventies saw traffic along Lineswest on a significant uptick. Shippers were fans of the Road's schedules across the plains and mountains of the west and rewarded the line with traffic for their priority freight trains. The fuel crisis hit, but the Milwaukee seemed to be in good position to weather the storm by relying on its efficient and capable Little Joe electric locomotives. Record grain harvests in the late seventies should have bolstered the bottom line as well, given the Milwaukee's access to west coast ports and grain growing country across the Western US. In many respects, it really seemed as though the Milwaukee could make a significant step up, rebuilding and reinventing itself as a significant hauler in the changing American economy.

Despite these advantages, however, something seemed to go wrong. The increased traffic across Lineswest had the beneficial effect of added revenue, but little effort was made to improve the tracks to support this heavier tonnage. As the trains increased in number, the track began to come apart. Schedules lengthened, shippers went elsewhere.

In the midst of the fuel crisis, the Milwaukee management assessed their railroad's electric operations as outdated and inefficient. This despite engineering reports that indicated the opposite and pointed instead to the failing condition of the track. In 1974 the electrics were pulled and scrapped. The valuable copper wire that hung above hundreds of miles of Western Extension track was taken down and sold as well. It is interesting, as an outside observer, to note that this decision came at the same time as a temporary spike in copper prices. By the time the wire had been pulled, however, supply had caught up with demand and the recycled copper the Milwaukee turned in was worth relatively little.

In the place of the retired and scrapped Joes, the Milwaukee purchased new diesel-electrics. The lengthening schedules across the west, however, quickly proved they had purchased too few and the economics of the fuel crisis quickly proved that they were no match for the Joe's efficiency. As the wheat rush of the late seventies boomed, the Milwaukee found itself with 1/3 to 1/2 of its locomotive fleet unavailable. Locomotives from the transcontinental line were "stolen" to run grain hoppers out along the branch lines of Central Montana in an effort to move the grain to ports. The spiraling decline, spurred on by decision after decision, was reaching the end.

And now, on a summer evening in 2005, the haunting decisions that doomed an empire reverberate across 25 years of time. The air has begun to take on the cool flavors of nighttime in the flatlands of Montana. Just as before it arrived, silence is what's left along much of the old Hiawatha trail. Silence, and a few small pieces of rail that perilously cling to the present. One small section that remains is along the old Northern Montana grain lines near Lewistown. On this brilliant evening at Judith Gap Trestle, the summer sky fades to black and that old song drifts to mind, "one step up and two steps back."

Dead Freight

2008-02-18T09:24:00.003-08:00

Perhaps even before the mid-seventies wore into the late seventies it was obvious that things along America's final transcontinental railroad were headed in such a backwards direction that salvation might be near impossible. Not because salvation was an impossibility, but because no one with the ability to change things for the better was allowed to. The final years of the Milwaukee are wrapped in the sort of corporate mystery and intrigue that add layers to its story and depth to its misery.

Out along the line in this period, the scheduled trains disappeared as schedules became increasingly difficult to maintain. Thunderhawks and XL Specials were gone, replaced during the renumbering program of the mid seventies. Then gone completely as traffic began to dry up along the transcontinental line and across the decayed eastern half of the Milwaukee empire. The final days of the Milwaukee Road saw Dead Freights rule the high iron.

Traditionally the Dead Freights had been made up of cars left over in the yards after scheduled secondary trains had departed with maximum tonnage and priority shipments. These leftover low priority cars were herded together and headed out as extra trains, tagged as dead freight. In time, these Dead Freights were all that remained along the transcon. They became aptly named as the system crumbled. In some sad sense, their name was prophetic.

Under a full moon in January 2008, nearly 30 years after the Milwaukee retreated from the West, the headlights of a modern day dead freight highlight the expansive Benewah trestle. This is one of the last, possibly the last, outposts of Milwaukee Road activity in the West. Now the St. Maries River Railroad, the line still traverses the old transcon main between St. Maries and Plummer, ID. Its business is forestry products and it uses an amazing collection of old Milwaukee locomotives and log cars as part of its daily operations. On this cold, cold night, it even recalls the lonesome headlights of the Milwaukee's final Dead Freights during the winter months of 1979 and 1980. The brutal cold of the night is highlighted by the blue cast of the moon and deep snow of Idaho's beautiful panhandle.

With only the headlights and moon to light the scene, it's easy to think about a different time when the rails continued east of St. Marries and across the Rocky Mountain Division to the great plains and big Midwestern cities. To times when the line rolled west of Plummer, across the Palouse, the dry Saddle Mountains, and the rich wetness of the Cascades. But those were different times of unending rails, even if the headlights that illuminate the trestle look the same and the moon overhead is just as it was 30 years ago.

Land of Hope and Dreams

2008-01-12T12:46:00.000-08:00

The overwhelming quiet of America's historical ghosts stand in stark contrast to the loud and bright comforts we surround ourselves with. Not very far from the interstates with 4 lanes of unending concrete, not so far from the enormous super shopping centers with their acres of blacktop, lie the remains of America's forgotten places. Not so long ago these old towns and homesteads were the centers of activity that pushed the development of the West. Now, their quiet underscores an ending that their founders never envisioned.

Small single-room schoolhouses sit abandoned in ghost towns or along the country roads that used to feed small farms. Nearby, a rise in the ground extends horizon to horizon. It's covered with dry weeds and rolls for miles and miles between these small towns. At one town, an old station stands beside it with a roof caved in and windows broken out. The station, like the town and the railroad, are no longer links to a growing world or the romance of travel now long forgotten. Where passenger trains named 'Olympian' and 'Columbian' roared, weeds grow and the old station creeks in the brutal sun of a hot summer day.

This was the land of hope and dreams. This was the place where homesteaders started anew and the now quiet lifelines raced with people and commerce. Time has taken its toll in these places, everyday a little bit less is left. The abandonment of the Milwaukee is more than just a story about a failed corporation or a study in corporate missteps. It's the same deep story that grips so many of these small places that are sprinkled about the West. Where there was hope there's now desolation and where there were dreams now exists a stark, quiet reality. There's a sadness here in these places and along this railroad. It seems to be a sadness of what was but no longer is. You can feel it when you listen to the quiet and the rustle of the wind. While the world passes these memories by they cry out a warning that what we assume will last forever is, in fact, just as temporary as everything else. This is a real sadness and it's tempered only by a hope that it doesn't have to be this way and perhaps, it was never intended to be.

With restored steam locomotives like the 261 in action across the country we're reminded of the hope and dreams from a long time ago. Perhaps we're offered a glimpse of the alternative as well.

Great Halls

2007-12-25T11:34:00.000-08:00

Someone once suggested that the enormous train stations located in the hearts of America's great cities were gifts from the railroads who built them. They have been lasting gifts in many cases and many that remain have outlasted any remnant of the companies who originally built them.

In 1925, Chicago's second Union Station was built through the agreement of five different railroads: The Pennsylvania; The Chicago, Burlington and Quincy; The Michigan Central; The Chicago and Alton; and The Milwaukee Road. The twenties were roaring and the bold station reflected the importance of the railroad companies in American society. The Pennsylvania Railroad proclaimed itself, "The standard railroad of the world" and the Milwaukee proudly billed the "Electrified" Olympian and Columbian passenger trains that left daily for the Northwest Coast.

Now, more than 80 years later, the grand Union Station still stands in downtown Chicago and finds itself at the heart of passenger rail just as it always has been. Vestiges of the past still cling to the present here: leaving from the North Concourse, the commuter line is still called the Milwaukee District. This despite the fact that the Milwaukee itself has been gone since 1986 and no electrified Olympians have departed for Tacoma since 1961.

It's easy to feel the depth of history in places like Union Station. So many people have walked beneath the tall statues and beneath the arched entrances. Through times of depression, war, and dramatic social changes places like Union Station seem to remain a relative constant. Inside the Great Hall waiting area, where the celestory roof lofts itself high above and the arched entrances grace the walkways, travelers today are still lost in the grandeur of the old building just as they always have been. The gold and bronze colors that trim the hall still seem stately as though the building itself is a doorway to things far greater just beyond.

Wandering through the Great Hall this Christmas Eve I had to wonder at it all. The birth and death of so many great trains and enormously powerful companies seems ironic compared to the monolith they left behind. Leaving out of the North Concourse onto old Milwaukee rails, travelers this holiday can't ride in Superdomes but they can still get to Seattle by train. Amtrak can get you there even if the old orange and red colors of the Milwaukee's passenger equipment are lost to the decades absorbed by Union Station.

Small Rails and Big Boats

2007-11-30T14:19:00.001-08:00

In the lands to the west of the great Cascade Range, beneath the watchful peak of Mt. Baker, lie the rich farm lands that exist in the heavily watered region of Washington State. A far cry from the high desert of the center of the state or the bleak rain shadows east of the Rockies, this pocket of land is known for its corn fields and dairy farming. To this land, the Milwaukee went as well.

The rails the Milwaukee owned in this country near the Canadian border were somewhat unique in that there was no direct connection to the rest of the Milwaukee system. Early in the years of the Pacific Extension, the Milwaukee had purchased the system from a local railroad who had constructed lines from Bellingham north to the Canadian border. For many years the Milwaukee accessed these far flung rails via ferry in the Bellingham harbor. As a concession of the BN merger in 1970, trackage rights were granted to the Milwaukee to access them via the BN line from Seattle to Bellingham, thus making the ferry runs unnecessary.

While the isolation of these lines from the rest of the system made them unique, as the seventies wore on another claim to fame arose. It was on these lines, with small rail laid at the turn of the century, that the Milwaukee operated some of its biggest and heaviest equipment. Perhaps deemed too unreliable to make the trek across the mountainous grades of the mainline, the Milwaukee set some of its General Electric-made 6 axle diesels to the chore of shuttling small trains up down the branch lines near Bellingham and Linden. GE designated these diesels as U-33C or U-36C (U standing for 'Universal') types depending on their horsepower. U-33's were outfitted with 3300 HP while the U-36's housed 3600 HP power plants. More than enough power to slowly ease down some of the line's small, small rails. They carried more than enough weight too. Each so-called U-boat weighed about 395000 pounds.

Today much of this isolated system is still intact. The bankruptcy of the Milwaukee led the BN to purchase the line and today rails still connect Bellingham with the border towns of Linden and Sumas. The days of massive U-boats and small trains of boxcars are history, but the memory of this unique practice of the Milwaukee lives on in a few photos taken in the dark days of bankruptcy and decline.

By the Shores of Rock Lake

2007-11-12T13:27:00.000-08:00

Where the rolling wheat fields of the Palouse run into the high desert scablands of Eastern Washington and the tall grasses become dry sage brush lies the deep and quiet Rock Lake.

Even today, in this era of vacation homes, it remains much as it always has. Perhaps because of its remoteness and isolation it remains this way. Or perhaps, it has just been forgotten by developers who have concentrated on more hospitable environments like Cheney. Whatever the case, to travel to Rock Lake requires effort and to see the path that the Milwaukee laid out along its shores requires more still. Even when America's final transcon was still running trains, those who journeyed here to photograph them were few in number. Now there seems little reason to travel the grassy paths along farmer's fields to reach the reclusive lake, and with private property sprinkled along the lake's banks, little opportunity as well.

Still, those who make the journey are treated to what few have seen. A deep lake nestled between high cliffs and an old railroad grade that often clings to the walls along the eastern banks. Tunnels and trestles still stand along the line and the right of way still clearly shows the old passing siding at LaVista near the lake's southern mouth. At sunset, the western cliffs present a dark silhouette against an orange sky while a lone pine stands over the scene and keeps watch. These are the times when deep calls to deep.

The crews that operated the gap knew these scenes well, but few others have experienced the awesome quiet of Rock Lake. The paths there are not well known and the journey is one of solitude. Today, as before the railroad's arrival, the lonesome cry of a circling hawk falls on silence below. Time marches forward putting another day between us and what was undone so many years ago. Happy trails Rock Lake, may you be forever reclusive.

The Other Wheat Country

2007-10-30T16:19:00.000-07:00

While many Milwaukee road enthusiasts, myself included, think of Northern Montana as the Milwaukee's foray into the wheat fields of the west, there was another. In the center of the state of Washington, the Milwaukee plotted a course through the Rocky Coulee and up onto the grain producing lands of the Evergreen State. Occasionally called the "Wheat Line," it was small rail, 40 foot boxcars, and sagebrush to the very end. And, unlike some other wheat branches, it lasted to the very end.

The boxcar unit trains that plied the weeds through the coulee in the late seventies must have been a site to behold. A few pictures remain in some publications, but overall, the line seems to have lived in relative obscurity. Like the central part of the state itself, it was largely ignored by fans of mountains and electrification.

At the end of the line stands the elevator of Marcellus, WA. At one point, Marcellus boasted a locomotive wye and water tank. Now, it is almost impossible to discern the right of way that comes into this old place through the sagebrush of the coulee. There's one resident who still calls Marcellus home, but apart from a nearbye road named for this old town, it has slipped into the past just like the railroad that founded it. All around, the fields of grain that beckoned to the Milwaukee in the first place still produce the wheat that is shipped out of ports on the coast. Even though the yields are higher today, and the prices higher still, the wheat is shipped out on trucks and the strings of old forty foot boxcars have been relegated to scrap.

A mile or so from the elevators at Marcellus stands another monument to the changing times along the Wheat Line and along Lines West in general. From gaping windows and darkness beyond the front door, this abandoned homestead still resides with a view of the Milwaukee. This was a place where families lived, screen doors slammed, and life moved forward. The old kitchen, center to so many homes, is hardly discernible through the haunting black windows. The days of watching a GP switch boxcars from out a bedroom window are over but I wonder if anybody still remembers them? Do the people who came from here still remember the Milwaukee's other wheat country, or have they, like the railroad itself, been gone for too long?

This was the Milwaukee's other wheat country.

Black and Whispery

2007-10-12T17:29:00.000-07:00

In my mind, I can see them: the pictures taken so many years ago of snow-blown dead freights struggling across the Central Washington desert. Some with lashups of tired old GP-30s and U-boats. Others stopped short of their goal when crews ran out of hours to be operating the train. The cold wind seems to blow right out of the pictures along with the icy needles of the driving snows.

Here at Taunton, you can find old pictures of trains sitting and waiting for a relief crew to arrive and ferry them to Othello. Sometimes they'd sit for a long, long time. These photos come from the Milwaukee's final winter in the west. It has been rumored that the winter of 1979-80 was a harsh one. The Railroad had been in bankruptcy since late 1977 and the gradual slippage of its condition throughout the early seventies had worsened considerably. Perhaps that winter felt all the more cold and heartless because of the railroad that ran through it and the sad and dilapidated state it found itself in. Somehow, operating with junk, the people made the line run until the early spring of 1980 but then it was over for good.

A few decades later, there's a lot that looks the same around Taunton. The rails are still here amongst the weeds and the old substation still stands as one of the few that remain. The skyline hasn't changed - the dry Saddle Mountains still dominate the horizon line. And while it seems that not much has changed, in some sense, everything has changed. The quietness of the line can attest to that as can the ominous clouds that have rolled off the Cascade range in the skies above. The clouds are black and whispery, just like the scene they overlook below.

Early Sunsets on Lines West

2007-10-02T11:54:00.001-07:00

Many years ago a small town existed at the base of the Saddle Mountains along the shores of the large and powerful Columbia River. It was named Beverly and it marked the Milwaukee Road's crossing of the mighty Columbia across an enormous bridge that only Western Railroads could envision. The station and crew houses were well kept and a set of boxcab electrics was kept ready to assist trains to the top of the Saddle mountains.

The climate was harsh in this small Central Washington town. Breathtaking winds raced through the Columbia River Valley and across the brutal desert that surrounded it. The saddle mountains loomed tall and dark around the town and sage brush spotted the dry earth on all sides. But there was a pipeline to the outside world. It brought people to Beverly who lived and worked there and was a link to the world that didn't live in the shadows of the mountains. The world beyond Beverly was the world that didn't exist in the lonesome high desert. It was the world that was fed by technology and discovery, arts and people. The pipeline of the Milwaukee Road brought it into Beverly and supported it in the small town.

But Beverly always lived in the shadow of the mountains and the sun always set early there. In the late seventies as the Milwaukee accelerated its death march, the helpers and crews were pulled out of Beverly and the railroad's presence began to recede. It was dusk for the small town as what seemed unthinkable became unavoidable. Sunset occurred in 1980 with the end of the mighty transcon and the dismemberment of the pipeline that fed the small town of Beverly.

Today Beverly has closed shops, wind blown streets, and an occasional angry dog that wanders through the quiet. The high desert has resettled in the small town on the shores of the Columbia. The link to the world beyond the tall Saddle Mountains is quiet - as though it had never existed. The sun has set here and just like the railroad and its other hauntings, the sunset came early.

Forgotten

2007-09-06T13:13:00.001-07:00

Location: Pendroy, MT

The solitude of the Milwaukee Road's transcontinental mainline is, at times, breathtaking. Perhaps all of the western transcons are the same in this respect, but the Milwaukee seems to have selected a route that is particularly removed from people and towns. To feed its mainline with wheat from the golden triangle, it sent lines north from Harlowton to reach the fertile fields of Northern Montana. At one of the furthest outposts from the mainline, at the literal end of the branch line from Great Falls, rests the small town of Pendroy, MT. A sign along US 89 directs the vacationers from Glacier National Park to "Visit Pendroy," though from the looks of it, few travelers do.

The main street of the old town hangs on by a thread and the local saloon with its flickering neon seems the only open business. Where the Milwaukee came into town stand the remains of a few small stock yards and that's it. There's barely a rise in the ground to show where this far flung remnant of the old empire laid claim. The wind picks up and the sky darkens on this summer day. The tall grasses whistle as a summer storm approaches from the Rockies just to the west. In the dimming light, the windows of the old school seem stark and barren. When it was built in 1919, there must have been much optimism. The twenties were roaring, and the newest transcontinental railroad had recently reached the town. Then the world changed and left places like Pendroy off the new map of progress and prosperity.

Today, those who venture off US 89 and visit Pendroy find a town that's been forgotten, at the very edge of a railroad empire that has suffered the same fate. As went the Milwaukee Road, so goes the small towns it touched. Pendroy, replete with the remnants of youthful optimism, isn't unique in this respect and the many ghosts that haunt Lines West show this to be an all too real truth. Standing in the presence of these places that harken back to years past, one can't help but wonder at the changes that have taken place and the direction of things to come.

Where the AC Flows

2007-08-23T13:20:00.000-07:00

With the crossing of two mountain ranges behind it, the Milwaukee pushed west toward the Bitterroot mountains along the Clark Fork River. Nearbye the Northern Pacific, its rival and original line to the Pacific Northwest, traveled as well. Envisioned in a time where travel was by rail and not air or blacktop, America's final transcontinental railroad boldly executed a plan to transform itself from its modest Midwestern status.

Somewhere along the timeline of history, things began to go poorly for the railroad. Perhaps it was a lack of maintenance or quesitonable leasing practices designed to impact the bottom line at the expense of long term viability. Or perhaps it was simply that folks in the offices back in Chicago got tired of their western reaches, packed up, and went home.

But not before they sold everything and anything of value. From the rails, old substations, and lands, to the trestles that spanned the enormous gorges of the western mountain crossings, all were sold for whatever could be negotiated. Scrappers and salvagers removed most of what was of value, while land owners laid claims to that valuable right of way that still carves its way across the western states. The railroad sold the land beneath the AC power lines too, to the electric company which to this day uses it as part of their network across Montana. What was initially the pipeline to the electric locomotives survives today as just a little reminder of a very unique railroad.

In places like Jens, MT (above), the right of way is being taken back by wild grasses and wildflowers. The old highway bridge that crossed the line here has been removed and filled in. But two things remain as reminders of the past. The old Northern Pacific line is still just a few feet away, and the AC power still flows in those lines that parallel the route of the Hiawathas.

Silver on the Journey

2007-07-30T09:44:00.000-07:00

181 Miles from Lewistown, out among the rattle snakes of the hot Montana Plains, on the abandoned portion of the Milwaukee's "Northern Montana Lines" sits an old milepost, a dismantled trestle, and more of the remains of America's last transcontinental. The green grasses and wheat fields of the Red Coulee area belie the heat on this June day, but my full-length snake boots that are tied tight against my legs constantly remind me that it is just plane hot.

The journey to Red Coulee has been an interesting one. In fact, the journey along the abandoned corridors of the Milwaukee these past several years has been loaded with amazing and deep experiences. My partners on the journey have been few, but consistent. As a wind begins to blow across the coulee and a red wing black bird chatters from atop the old telegraphy pole, the cold chills I feel remind me of one of my traveling partners - the one who put this old railroad on my heart to begin with. The One.

From an early age, sitting in the back seat of an old '76 Suburban I would stare out the windows. My goal was to see the big trestles that spanned valleys on the west side of Snoqualmie Pass. Around Ellensburg I'd catch another glimpse of an old railroad as a large bridge crossed the Yakima river, then a final encounter at Renslow, where a high black trestle spanned the interstate. It seemed immense and imposing, the sort of thing that makes a strong impression on a young kid. I stored these memories away for a long time, but they were never forgotten. When I arrived back in the West they came back like a flood. I was inspired to search out these things of my youth, and fill in the story around them - the story of the Milwaukee Road.

My travels would lead me across the great plains of Montana, to the tops of the Bitterroot Mountains, and out across the very trestles that I remembered as a child. Finally, the full picture was becoming more clear. When I wandered into a darkened tunnel atop the Saddle Mountains I felt something. It was the presence of something far bigger and far more comforting than I had ever experienced and the implications of my memories and ongoing journeys out across the Milwaukee became just a bit more focussed. It wasn't just a journey to find the Milwaukee, but to find the One that searches for us all.
And so, as I stand among the blowing winds of Red Coulee and feel the coolness of God's hand in the high heat of the day, the immensity of the moment overtakes me and I'm filled with love and passion.

A ways up the old right of way, my second companion on this ongoing journey sits and waits for my return. It's newer than the old red '76, but the gracefully aging 1990 suburban has seen as much of the Milwaukee as I have. Just as with the thousands of miles before, the silver beast rests patiently as I follow the call. On this day, the call has led me to Red Coulee, but the old girl was with me on the day when I traversed the darkness of tunnel 45 atop the Saddle Mountains too. On the day I found and drove Vendome Loop, the suburban was doing the work and it was her headlights that lit the evening scene as we rounded the darkening curve of the massive Rocky Mountain crossing. At Drexel (left), an old substation used to power trains on their way up the Bitterroots. Now, just a lonely photographer and his companions share in the visions of how things used to be.

Years before, during one of my first journeys along the Milwaukee Road I stumbled upon a great breakfast for $3 at Three Forks. The place was run by an older lady with curly silver hair who did all of the cooking at the back along a large grill. She was the only one cooking there and it seemed like her eggs, potatoes, sausage, and biscuits were well known around the area. It was like stepping into a different time, isolated from the outside world. The old truck was newer then when I parked it outside the cafe, but still the same girl. The dirt on her flanks shows the trials of the previous day's journey to Sixteen Mile Canyon and the area around Lombard. The cafe was closed when last I was in Three Forks. Like so many other things we've seen, time takes its toll on the small towns that still remember the Milwaukee and it looks to have caught up to that great little cafe. Silver and I won't park there again for that time has past. It is never forgotten though.

Near the forgotten town of Bonnefield we trekked across dry creek beds and beside old telephone poles. Poles that used to power ABS signals along a big transcontinental railroad, now just standing among the parched grasses of the Montana Badlands. To places like these we journeyed as well. The loneliness and beauty of a sunset on the badlands of Montana is a sight to remember forever.

The journey has been amazing, and the journey into the heart of something far bigger continues to this day. The inspiration for a journey of your own will come to you, have no doubt about that. The same companion that puts that inspiration in you, he'll give you the other companions needed to complete the journey - don't doubt that either. The experiences will be intense and deep, and the memories will be something to be treasured and passed along. The suburban isn't as new as she used to be, her paint is peeling these days, and the a/c hasn't worked for a long time. But she's ready to go whenever the call strikes. That's what's nice about your longtime companions, the ones that are sent along by the man upstairs, they're always ready to go.

The Way it all Would Go

2007-07-07T14:55:00.001-07:00

How could it all just be gone? How is it possible that something so big would simply disappear into the shadows of history? I've traveled and photographed almost every part of the Western Extension, and the thing that hits me most is the scale of what they did and then, 70 years later, what they undid. From Terry, MT in the east, to Seattle and Tacoma in the west. It is all just gone.

I've shared a lot of stories and photos now that this blog is about two years old. I've reminisced about the rolling wheat fields of the Palouse, the huge trestles of the Bitterroots, the silence of a day spent in Harlowton, even the lonesome winds that blow across the Northern Montana Lines. But every once in awhile, the scale of this beast just gets to me. The hundreds and hundreds of miles that are marked by little more than a gravel path, or an old telephone pole are haunting. To come across an old milepost still fixed to a lineside pole and actually think that milepost 1899 means that I'm 1899 miles from Chicago makes me feel really small. To know that there's no way to get back there makes me really sad.

One day, perhaps I'll understand why I continue to head out to these quiet places to look for the lost. Perhaps one day, God can explain why it sits so heavily on my heart. Perhaps one day, He can explain why it all went this way and why a few of us care so much about it.

Remember the Milwaukee

2007-06-29T10:06:00.000-07:00

The year was 1917. That was the year the Milwaukee sent its first electrified trains out across the Rocky Mountain Division. It was a system designed to be state of the art, and it incorporated so many advanced features that people from around the world traveled to see it in operation.

Twenty-two substations were built across the system to convert 110kV AC to 3000V DC and feed power to the overhead catenary. The first few decades of electrification had several operators stationed at each substation for continuous 24 hour operation. Those off duty lived with their families in small houses located next to the large brick substations.

Today there are few reminders of the Milwaukee's great electrification. Most substations have been torn down and removed. Of the 22 originally constructed, only a handful survive in various states of repair. Some are used for private businesses, others are subject to vandalism and decay. Most sit in out of the way places where their names have been long forgotten and time continues to erode the remains of the railroad that was once at their feet.

Here at Ravenna, the old substation still sits with vandalized windows and saplings growing from its brick work. The operator houses beside it have long disappeared into the surrounding forest. Easily spotted from I-90, its presence offers more questions than answers and its future in this remote area seems doubtful. The old Northern Pacific line, just 100 yards away, still rolls trains by the old substation, but no Milwaukee train has passed this way since 1980 -- and no electrified train has passed this way since 1974. The once immaculate interior is decimated with shards of window glass and broken insulators. The motor-generator sets are long removed, and a few holes left in the walls are what remains of the large control panels. Overhead, the remains of a gantry crane still reside, but the missing chains and motors mark this as a memorial. Even the vacant stare of broken windows reflect what this old substation is: a piece of history that casts its shadow now 90 years beyond its inception. I wonder if people then could have imagined what could happen in the course of 90 years. What will happen in the next 90? Will places like Ravenna have anything to remind us of The Milwaukee Road? Or will the shadow of history fade completely away?

Naturally Beautiful

2007-06-07T12:36:00.002-07:00

The Milwaukee Road built through some rough and pristine country when it headed west to the coast. Its route was, arguably, the best and fastest from the Midwest to the Pacific Northwest. It was engineered to the highest standards of the day, and among the first lines to adopt block signals to protect the movement of trains. Its electrification of vast sections of mainline are storied, even today. The railroad was proud of its technology and its powerful electric motors that hauled trains across the Cascades and the Rockies. Tall and spindly trestles were built to vault the line across huge expanses. Long tunnels burrowed under the tallest peaks on the line. Yet it was a late comer, and surrounded by legendary competitors like the Great Northern and the Northern Pacific. The markets were unkind to the line, and its multiple bankruptcies stand in contrast to the magnificence of the initial vision to build the best line to the west. So delapidation set in, schedules faltered, and derailments soared. In 1980, it was over and the following couple years would see the finest engineered railway removed from the face of the west. No more mountains to climb, no more valleys to traverse, no more high deserts to cross, no more prairie winds to run with.

But the story hasn't ended because what the railroad was built into survives. The serene and beautiful lands it crossed exist still, many just as they were when the first rails were laid. I guess that's what keeps the Milwaukee Road so beautiful so many years after its demise. Although the old line is gone, a new day brings fresh and beautiful life to blossom. It stands in sharp contrast to the graveside it grows along, but somehow, they're both beautiful.

Standing in the Gap

2007-05-18T16:08:00.000-07:00

Location: Near Rock Lake City, in The Gap

Far from the prying eyes of railfans and the glamour of Little Joes. Between the hundreds of miles marked for their bold electrification and beautiful mountain passes. Away from the passenger trains that veered north to Spokane. In a place where the only signals were for rock slides. Welcome to the Gap.

Once the place to find big 4-8-4 locomotives pulling freight, then in later years SD40-2s and flared SD45s, and finally a last resort for whatever junk could be assembled to pull a train. Railroading in the electrification gap between Othello, WA and Avery, ID was, if nothing else, off the beaten path. Look through a book on the Milwaukee, chances are good you won't find too many pictures from the gap. From Avery? Sure. From Three Forks? You bet. Othello, Seattle, Tacoma? Yep. Revere? Ewan? Seabury? Malden? You won't find many. There weren't very many trains, and there were even fewer people who ventured out to capture them as they rolled across the continually changing face of east-central Washington and the Idaho Panhandle.

As with the rest of Lines West, today there's quiet in the beautiful places like Rock Lake. The right of way is mostly owned by the state, and it survives its run through the gap in the same obscurity its always enjoyed. Near the plotted town of Rock Lake City, evidence lies by the side of the roadbed, left alone after all of these years. With seven trains left before all was done, a dead freight derailed and left two boxcars behind. What was useful and easily taken was removed, the hulks that still read "The Milwaukee Road" were left in the quiet to tell the tale to those few who might venture into the gap.

If you go into the gap, enjoy the beauty of the rolling landscape, the seclusion of Rock Lake, and the quiet of a few lone elevators scattered along the line. Marvel at what always seemed to play second fiddle to the electrified mainlines that were the concert masters. Take a couple of pictures, in time we'll appreciate having them around even if there are no trains to photograph. Welcome to the gap.

A Sea so Big

2007-04-26T10:23:00.000-07:00

I know a girl. She's a good kid who grew up in Eastern Washington and has spent most of her years somewhere in the eastern region of the state. She can be silly or serious, engaged or wandering, rooted on the ground or have a head in the clouds. She knows Jesus and follows him even when things tells her not to. She's a good kid.

She's listened patiently to my ramblings about the disgraces of The Milwaukee's abandonment; how I perceive the management to have acted inappropriately and in the face of obvious facts. She's listened to me pine for a better alternative than driving across the state of Washington on I90, or hopping on a passenger train in Spokane at 2 in the morning. She's listened and been fascinated by my recounting of the tale when I stepped into a darkened tunnel #45 in the Saddle Mountains and found myself to be in the presence of something far bigger than myself. All of these things she's listened to and internalized, but she'd never been to the graveside itself.

Then, on a cool spring day, we were there at a place called Pandora. The grasses of the Palouse had yet to awaken from their winter slumber, and a harsh wind cut across the prairie toward the Bitterroot Mountains. Old telegraphy poles stood near the bottom of the fill and a hawk circled far away on the powerful currents of the wind. The feelings of solitude and loneliness were strong as we walked the grade. She said, "I feel anxious."

I felt it too, as I had many times before. There's a sadness here and among the ruins of other places where time has long past them by. A friend of mine described the feeling as a "quiet reverence" that seems to cry out from these lonely places of old. The girl I know had found the real Milwaukee Road and witnessed what's left of it. To me, it represents a truth far larger than we like to admit. We try hard to convince ourselves that we're in control, to cover up the obviousness of our smallness with noise, lights, and technology. But we can't escape forever. The quiet solitude and cutting winds of the places we've forgotten quickly point out our folly. We're constantly reminded that, "Lord, your sea is so great, and my boat is so small."

I know a girl and she's a good kid.

Another Long Hard Lesson Learned

2007-04-06T11:00:00.000-07:00

Several years ago I sat in the back seat of a small sedan, headed west on I90 across the state of Washington. The rolling wheat fields of the palouse gave way, as they always do, to the harsh scablands and desert of the arid center of the state. Sagebrush and harsh sun mark the summers in this part of the country, and mock Washington's "The Evergreen State" slogan.

As I90 began its descent into the Columbia River Valley, my thoughts turned to an old friend we'd soon see again. Just as I90 plows its way up the grueling west slope out of the Columbia River Valley, the Milwaukee Road begins its assault on the Saddle Mountains just a few miles to the south. The old roadbed passes names with no places, like Doris and Cheviot, and crests its 2.2% grade at Boyleston, then crosses I90 at Renslow as it parallels the interstate into the Kittitas Valley. In different times, passengers aboard the Columbian or Olympian were treated to views of Mt. Rainier as the lush Kittitas Valley region welcomed them into the land of the Cascades.

Now travelers are treated to the same view, but from the independence of a 4 lane superhighway. The interstate exits at Ellensberg reflect the times: a background of beautiful mountains - drowned out by the noise of fast food chains and gas stations. The Resourceful Railroad sits as an underused bike trail while people crowd the asphalt with cars.

Standing on the abandoned right of way near Cheviot and looking back over the sagebrush and sand, the quiet and solitude of the moment screams out against the noise we build up around ourselves. To me, there is a sadness that these choices reflect and it's all summed up in the loneliness of this old Saddle Mountain grade. As the world fills up with suburbias and parking lots, little pieces exist to remind us that it doesn't have to be that way. Beautiful mountains don't have to be lost in the noise of fast food chains, interstates don't have to be the only way to travel and see the country, and the quiet of the Milwaukee's corridor across the west doesn't have to be a finality. But as long as it is, and as long as they are, then I guess it's just another long hard lesson learned.

Pandora's Box

2007-03-21T14:06:00.000-07:00

On a beautiful early summer, beneath an amazing sky of blues and whites, surrounded by rolling wheat fields still in their spring coats of green, by a lone pine tree and an old concrete foundation lies Pandora.

Pandora has a marred history, although from the quiet breezes that blow through the grasses on this summer day, you'd never know. It is located at MP 1866 on the Pacific Extension and the site of a lengthy passing siding used by the Milwaukee's transcontinental freight trains. This piece of the transcon existed in the "gap" between the electrified portions on the Rocky Mountain Division to the east and the Cascade crossing to the west. It also existed in the gap of block signals. This was dark territory where trains moved on the authority of written instructions only, without the safety net provided by signals along the line.

On February 19, 1977, in the days before bankruptcy, the westbound train #200 ran through its designated point for a meet with an eastbound. The two met on the mainline near Pandora with fatal results.

Now, thirty years later, the tragedy and chaos of that day seems surreal. Grasses and wildflowers cover the railroad, slowly taking back the old right of way and covering its history. The tracks are long gone and the peace of early summer stands in stark contrast to the grey days of a winter so many seasons ago.

Old Ribbons

2007-03-12T11:32:00.000-07:00

As the 1960s turned into the 1970s, several things became clear. First, like the Rock Island (another large Granger road), the Milwaukee Road had been attempting to make itself more attractive to merger partners by maximizing short term profits. This translated into reduced money spent on such things as track, freight cars, and locomotives. It was a plan that, while slightly underhanded, seemed to make good business sense for a management that was becoming increasingly tired of railroading as an independent company. Simply take some of the money that would have gone into infrastructure and apply it to the profit statement instead. Within a couple of years, a different railroad would buy the 'very profitable' Milwaukee Road and none would be the wiser.

The second thing that became clear was that there existed a slight problem with this strategy for, also like the Rock Island, no merger partner came forward. So after many years of neglected maintenance, derailments and travel times soared across the west. What had been a strategy for merger had become a very big snare. The business increase across Lines West during the 1970s only served to magnify the problem, beating the few remaining years out of the tracks even more quickly. A rebuild was possible, with independent analysts showing that the only way for the Road to be profitable was through an extensive upgrade to its western extension (interestingly enough, counter to what management was claiming at the time). But the stomach to make that kind of investment had long evaporated in the headquarters building, and the bankruptcy judge agreed.

Today, little actual Milwaukee rail exists across the west. But in Palouse, Washington, a grim reminder of those final days still exists on the Milwaukee's wholly owned subsidiary, the WI&M. Although purchased and upgraded by BN after the Milwaukee's implosion, the line through town still shows some of the old effects of a failed merger strategy and failed upper management.

Armour Yellow in Hiawatha Land

2007-02-20T14:45:00.000-08:00

There are few pieces of the Milwaukee's Western Extension that exist beyond the huge stretches of barren rights of way that run across the landscapes of the west. Small pockets do linger, like the logger operation in St. Maries, the Central Montana Railroad north of Harlowton, or the bit of mainline that still serves old shops in Miles City. But with few exceptions, the rails and ties are simply gone from the vistas of the west. In their place stand eerie bridges and concrete viaducts that loft over rivers and coulees.

Spokane has a few interesting pieces that are the exception. Expo '74 did its damage to many of the structures that graced the downtown (although it did do its part to help clean-up the city), but if one looks closely, the ghosts of the Milwaukee's extension to the west are still there -- and some are still being used.

To the east of downtown, behind a large Home Depot and Costco store, lie the Union Pacific Railroad yards. Trains come and go, freight cars are shuffled and in the cool sun of a Northwest winter day, locomotives in famous armour yellow paint rest between jobs. But the armour yellow hides a secret; these yards are the Milwaukee's former Spokane yards. Still used every day, just as they were intended, this piece of the western extension holds on and plays an important roll. It's been many years since orange and black colors were flown across the west, but the Milwaukee's system lives on in a select few places nonetheless.