Item #3 from my never-published book, posted at The Goat last year, seems appropriate here:A Difficult Day on the Railroad (Item #3)
(This is the third installment of the book. By now, I presume both of my readers
understand that I’m not writing this in any particular order. These are just vignettes, that
will eventually be organized -somehow- into a whole.)
My most memorable day on the railroad was September 25, 1975. At that time of year,
the leaves of the aspen trees have turned brilliant yellow, the manzanita brush has turned
dark red, and the spruce trees haven’t turned anything at all - they are just the fine green
that they are all year. If a little snow falls, to salt the landscape with a bit of white, the
scene is simply mystical. And that is what we had on that day.
The railroad has always been a marginal entity, business-wise. But, many Colorado and
New Mexico residents know how beautiful the high country can be at that time of year,
and come out to ride the train and enjoy the scenery. On that particular day, we had over
700 people that wanted to ride. Our regular train could handle about 500. We had an
“overflow” train, originating at Cumbres Pass, that could handle several hundred more.
We joined the trains at Cumbres, because one locomotive could handle the cars on the
downhill trip eastwards. There must have been thirty cars on the train, which would have
made it about a half-mile long.
The first de-railment occurred after lunch, somewhere beyond the Toltec Gorge.
As conductor that day, it was my responsibility to manage the problem. People who are
not involved in railroading think that the locomotive engineer is in charge of the train.
That is not the case. The engineer is simply a locomotive driver. The conductor is in
charge of the train, in the same way as a captain is in charge of a ship. So, I had a mess to
deal with. We re-railed the car fairly quickly, using equipment that is always carried, and
got underway again. I assigned an employee to ride on the troublesome car, the
“Hinman”, with a communication cable, to stop the train if there was another problem. He
was in the toilet, or something, when the second derailment occurred.
Fortunately, the cars of the regular train were in front, behind the locomotive. The other
locomotive, in position to pull the overflow train back to Cumbres, was up ahead at
Sublette, having turned around at Big Horn, waiting. I wrote an order sending the main
train (500 passengers) on to the end of its trip to Antonito, and requiring the reserve
locomotive to come back and help us. That all happened. I had to carry a heavy thing
called a “re-railing frog” the length of the train, along a steep and slippery side-slope, in
the rain, to get ready to put the uncooperative car back on the track for the second time.
After taking the regular overflow cars and their passengers to Sublette, we did re-rail the
bad car.
We finally got back to Cumbres Pass around midnight. I was astonished when we got a
big round of applause from our passengers. They had obviously understood the problems
we had been dealing with, our very sincere efforts to minimize their discomfort, and the
fact that we had done fairly well, all things considered.
Our night wasn’t over. We had to get the overflow train off the mainline, so it would be
clear for the next day’s regular train. As we had never done switching at night in the past,
we were all extremely cautious - as well as tired from the long and trying day. In order to
signal at night, you move a lantern in vertical strokes to indicate that the locomotive
should move ahead, in circles to have it come back toward you, and in horizontal strokes
to show that you want it to stop. We talked this through, to make sure we were all
reading the signals the same.
As I worked that night, doing my best to make sure that nothing went wrong, and that
no one got injured, I was extremely tired, and might have started hallucinating. We were
working at the east switch of Cumbres, just above Tanglefoot Curve, setting the overflow
equipment onto the siding there. A hillside slopes up to the west. I literally felt the
ghosts of railroaders, sitting on the hillside, who had been there before me, knew what I
was going through, and - I felt - were cheering me on. I’ll never forget that image.
Bob Keller
abc
