The opportunity to work #3 to capacity is a rare event that I was privileged to do in Feb. on our photo charter thanks to mother nature. Our train with the photographers was not max. tonnage as such, but the ice and snow that had settled on the rails since the line had been cleared added a new dimension to winter opps. I was quite surprised at the rolling resistance that the snow added to the train. Up around "Ballast" the snow with an ice crust began to create a sensation on the engine like going over a cattle guard. During the bumpy moments I began to have trouble with wheel slip but recovered several times then finally stalled. I was experiencing that "Heisler torque lean" each time I corrected from a bit of wheel slip by partially closing the throttle then opening back up. With the photographers on the rear in either the coach or caboose and the recently restored wood framed Westside Tank just behind the engine, I didn't even consider bucking slack. We cut the train off, and ran light to Sumpter to break a trail and was quite careful not to hot rod the engine in case we would derail. We continued to experience the cattle guard effect which was a real butt puckerer. I had one hand on the throttle and the other on the independent. We recounted this last weekend that by my count it took 4 tries to go up the final grade to the depot, though one of our crew line side said it was 6. These were real ease er up tries, not balls to the wall by any stretch.
After recoupling we really struggled as the ice crust had mostly just sort of parted for our light move and fell back in. The throttle was pulled out all the way from the upper end of S Wye area to just below Sawmill Gulch. I wasn't paying much attention to what Taylor who was firing was doing, but we were dropping pressure and water pretty fast. Due to Sawmill Gulch crossing which I didn't dare blow through and the 2 switches at S. Sumpter, I could not maintain momentum. When the rear of the train passed the upper switch the throttle came out all the way again and I started dropping the bar notch by notch to give it all we had, which wasn't enough as we stalled short of the Austin St. crossing with 90lbs. and not a comfortable amount of water to have leveled off at the depot. That last couple hundred ft. was dramatic with each chug being a blast that sounded like it should be from a much larger engine. Somewhere in this final pull we blew the ash dump cap off of the engineers side of the stack. I never jerked the engine around, but just let it give us all it could. I am pretty sure Taylor will back me up that this little account is no exaggeration. I realize I might not ever experience this kind of cab drama again as these kind of opportunities are few and far between. I do indeed feel privileged.
