Lost Rail

When the decision was made to push the large, but modest, Midwestern line known as The Chicago, Milwaukee, and St. Paul Railroad to the northwest the year was 1905. Already 22 years after the Northern Pacific had driven its golden spike at Gold Creek, MT. Still, the railroad looked at its Western Extension with optimism, electing to electrify large sections of its line across the mountains to the west. Still, despite this optimism, it's hard to argue the Milwaukee wasn't late to the party. While some of its extension tapped the fertile wheat fields of central Montana (and over time these central Montana lines would prove to be its most profitable of the entire extension), most of the extension entered into environments already well developed with rails. In the wheat fields of Eastern Washington this scenario was played out with the NP and UP both vying for supremacy among the rolling hills of The Palouse. Secondary players contributed to the juggernaut of rails that encomp...

It was a clash of timelines. The year was 2003, on a hot Montana summer day in late July. I had risen early that day and pointed the truck west along dirt back roads to follow the abandoned Mussleshell Division of the Milwaukee Road as it ventured west toward Harlowton. I joined US12 at Forsyth and continued my trek through old towns named Vananda and Sumatra. The fading signature of the Milwaukee followed closely, marked by a continuous dirt rise in the ground or occasional bridge that was left in place when the tracks were removed. I veered from US12 at Harlowton, now following the old electrified Rocky Mountain Division. Toward Ringling we ventured, through the towns of Martinsdale and Lennip on the way. A few miles west of Lennip, where the old railroad closely follows the state highway, I found two signals standing alone and neglected. I stopped and took this photograph that seems to looks across and through periods of time. Seen here are the remnants of America's final...

As I-90 winds its way down the east side of Lookout Pass a cut in the trees becomes visible high up on the sides of the lush Bitterroot Mountains. It's not much of a clearing, but it is marked by the continuous presence of seemingly out of place high-tension power lines. Winding further east and down-grade, the cut in the trees gets closer to the road and at a small town called Saltese, an enormous black trestle spans the Silver Creek valley and the houses that have been built up around its large pilings. For east bound travelers, they have met The Milwaukee Road and it will travel with them to Butte as they blast eastward on the modern four lane supher-highway, I90. On a day back in July of 2005 I sped east past the silent bridge at Saltese and toward Missoula and Butte. I marveled at the old substation at Ravena, a remnant of Milwaukee's much publicized electrification of the late teens, but continued to push east. The miles were adding up and I arrived in Butte in the earl...

June 15, 1974. A Little Joe lowered its pantograph for the final time and the Rocky Mountain division was de-energized forever. For weeks the day had loomed; a derailment at East Portal on St. Paul Pass had removed several feet of catenary, but knowing the end was near no fix was authorized. The final days saw electric locomotives lowering their pantographs across the broken section, then raising them on the other side. Now, on June 15, no more electricity would flow through traction motors anywhere on Lines West. So here we are, 32 years beyond electrification and 26 years beyond Lines West. More than a quarter century has passed between us, and the hands of time have left places like Rock Lake, shown above, quiet and alone as before all of this happened. From high-iron and named freight trains to a gravelled rise in the ground, running a shockingly long distance from eastern Montana to the Pacific Coast. Aboard an airline flight on the evening of Memorial Day 2006 I looked down...

The subtle tones of an evening sun cast warm light on an old drive-in sign near Miles City, MT on a mid-summer day in 2003. 100 feet away the remains of the Milwaukee rest beside the still used NP line that got here first, and has outlasted its rival as well. The time of day that casts these subtle tones, a dramatic shift from the harshness of midday sun, is perhaps my favorite time of day. Gusting winds have given way to gentle breezes that rustle the grasses while the gentle beauty of the land cries out to be noticed. As I traveled home from Spokane yesterday evening the sun was dropping low in the sky and the green fields of wheat rolled off into the distance in all directions. To the east, they rolled toward the Bitterroot Mountains, resplendent in the golden light of evening. To the south lay Rosalia, WA, where the wheat fields were cut open by Pine Creek and the roadbed of the Milwaukee, still closely following the cut as it always had. The arched bridges that carried the old...

What is the fascination with The Milwaukee Road? Here on this Lost Rail blog, I've talked at length about my own fascination with the old road, recalling times as a small child where our paths crossed, relating the feelings of a cold and dark tunnel atop the Columbia River grade, and pondered the mystery of abandoned towns in Montana. But that's just me, or is it? There exists a large group of true fans that follow the railroad through history and cross terrain, relating stories and encounters of how the old line affected them. There's an even larger group who at least wonder at The Milwaukee's lengthy stretches of electrified mains and love to see pictures of orange and black diesels rolling across flat plains or snowy mountain passes. An editor of CTC Board magazine once answered the question, "why do another issue on The Milwaukee Road" with the response that if you asked railfans what their favorite line was, many of them would list a couple of lines a...

The big black trestle, the one that spans I90 just east of Kititas and Ellensburg. Or the one that sits close to the top of Ryegrass summit on the way up from the I90 crossing of the Columbia River at Vantage. It has a name you know. Its name is Renslow. If you take a few minutes and get off the interstate you can drive up the old two-lane highway that parallels the interstate through this part of Washington and go visit the old girl. I think the old two-lane might be a remnant of US 10, but I'm not sure. Renslow trestle still sits just where she has for a long long time, back all the way to when The Milwaukee draped electrical wire along its Rocky Mountain and Cascade crossings and proclaimed itself as being "Electrified to the Coast." A ticket purchased in Seattle would loft eastbound travelers up and over the Cascades, out into the Kititas valley, and over Renslow Trestle on their way to the Rockies and the plains that lay beyond them. Today she remains as more of...