The End of the Line

Tuesday 28th August

As I mentioned in my last post, a visit to the old Franklin and Megantic was high on my list of priorities. A little bit more history is in order here, as one of the interesting things about the two footers is in the machinations of getting them built in the first place.

The original Sandy River Railroad was completed in 1879, and ran from Farmington to Phillips, via Strong. Some five years later, the Franklin & Megantic was chartered. Shortly afterwards, construction began from a junction with the Sandy River at Strong, up to Kingfield, some 15 miles to the northeast, and through some fairly challenging terrain, including one section where the grade was 5%!

By 1894, the owners of the F and M had built an extension from Kingfield [1] to Bigelow [2], via Carrabasset [3], a further 15 miles or so north and then west. This extension was built under a separate charter, and was officially known as the Kingfield and Dead River Railroad. This despite being owned and operated by the F and M, and never having any of its own equipment. A lot of interesting financial murkiness lay behind these smaller lines, which is very well documented in Jones' 'Two Feet Between the Rails' - a hefty and very comprehensive history of the entire Sandy River system.

the Kingfield and Dead River RR

My own layout back home, based on the Bigelow to Carrabasset section, is set in 1919, well after the merger, but I've chosen to call it the Kingfield and Dead River Railroad, in part to allow for a slightly altered version of real history so I can justify a few departures from reality in my modeling - for example using equipment from other lines, which the K and DR 'acquired' for their own uses. If anyone is interested, I can expand on this alternate history another day.

Meanwhile, back to the 21st Century. After breakfasting at a funky little cafe on the outskirts of Kingfield, and armed with two sets of fresh camera batteries, I headed toward Bigelow.

One objective of today's mission was to get some good panoramic photos of the area, for future use in a backdrop for the layout. How's that for authenticity? So, a gentle cruise was in order, earmarking potential sites for capture on the way back, when the light would be better.

An easy 20 minutes, mostly following the Carrabasset River, brought me to Bigelow Station Rd, which occupies the original right of way, and right next to it, Bigelow station itself - not much altered from when this part of the line was abandoned in 1923.

Bigelow Station - now a holiday home. The road out front is on the old ROW.

A few metres further down the road I came across the remains of the old Section House, which the track maintenance crew used as their base for looking after this section of the line. Plans for this building were published in a recent issue of Maine Two Foot Quarterly. The plans had me scratching my head a bit, as the arrangement of a lean-to attached to the back of the building was not totally clear, but seeing it in flesh cleared that up nicely.

Bigelow Section House

Another useful acquisition at the convention provided me with some more period photos of this structure, and the general area, so I've got plenty of good reference material to help with my modeling endeavours. In fact if you scroll down to the bottom of the linked page, you can see the very photos to which I refer.

As a bit of a sidebar, I had the pleasure of meeting both book author Peter Barney and publisher Tim Mulina at the convention. I'm just going to have to do some more name dropping as I go along here, because in the rarified world of 2 foot modeling, all the 'Rock Stars' were there. And one didn't have to act like a groupie to enjoy a chat with them, either - all thoroughly nice people.

After finishing exploring Bigelow, it was back on the road, with frequent stops for those background photo ops.

Quite by chance, I found Huston Brook, and what I assume was the original RR bridge on what is now another snowmobile trail.

Huston Brook Bridge

Next stop was Carrabasset, which was pretty much silent as to it's RR past, but very pretty nonetheless.

Looking north up the Carrabasset River. I believe that's Mt Bigelow in the background.

As you can see from the photos, I have been very lucky with the weather in Maine, and apart from that one very welcome evening thunderstorm, have been blessed with blue skies and warm weather.

Back to Portland

Heading south again, I passed through Kingfield one last time, and after a fruitless attempt to locate the old Car Shed, the only RR building remaining there, I headed for Portland. I took a somewhat more direct route than on the way up, and arrived back mid afternoon, in time to check back into my old digs at the South Portland Econolodge, and then went off to the Maine Mall in search of a haircut - I really needed to lose my NZ 'winter coat'.

I was pretty shagged out by this point, so I got some takeaways from 'The Scottish Restaurant', and headed back to the hotel for a bit of vegeing in front of TV (66 channels of sh!t to choose from). Then, another early night - tomorrow being the official start of the convention!

5 Star Whistle Stop Bus Tour of the Sandy River and Rangeley Lakes RR

Monday 27th August

An early start from Kingfield [7], and a leisurely drive the 20 odd miles to Farmington [1] led me to the parking lot of the 'Narrow Gauge Theater' on the very spot where the Sandy River and Rangeley Lakes RR interchanged with the standard gauge Maine Central. Not much evidence of what disappeared in the '30s remains, but was there was a bus, a bunch of other narrow minded railfans, and Gary Kohler - author, publisher, and researcher of 2 foot history - the man behind today's edutainment.

Today's map will attempt to show the route of the Sandy River, as best as I can with a road oriented mapping program - it should give you an idea of the ground we covered, as well as the bits we didn't have time to see (Strong & Phillips ended up with two ID numbers, to make the route came out more or less right).

Simplfied Sandy River and Rangeley Lakes RR System Map

We left Farmington [1] bound for Strong [2,6], with a brief stop at South Strong on the way, all the while accompanied by a commentary from Gary as to what used to be where. It's all rather confusing, and road realignments and changes of ground levels over the years make it a bit of a challenge to relate to.

There are 3 original RR related buildings still at Strong, the largest of which is a toothpick factory. Imagine how many toothpicks you could fit into a boxcar - even a wee narrow gauge one! With a squint, and a bit of imagination, I could figure out where the tracks must have been, but in all honesty it didn't bear much resemblance to the many period photos I have of the place.

Next stop was the main yard at Phillips [3,5], where the old depot and car shop remain, and for the really keen, the remains of the old turntable pit, buried in the weeds down from the depot.

Phillips Depot, HQ of the SRRL.

Next stop was the old Phillips upper yard, just across the river, and originally the base of the Phillips and Rangeley, another of the original pre-merger lines. It is currently the site of the 'modern' SRRL, and the historical society had a treat waiting for us!

Our train awaits - the engineer is a real Sandy River man - great(?) grandson of Master Mechanic Stinchfield from back in the line's heyday.

Waiting at the station in full steam was Monson #3, on lease to the SR&RL, with a 19th century passenger car and caboose waiting to take us up the line to the 'old stone fort', now the site of a wonderful restoration effort. The crew put on a grand show for us, switching a freight train and doing a few run-bys.

Making up our freight train

The new 'old stone fort' - built on the foundations of the original structure

Freight train run-by in the meadow

After an all too quick hour or so had passed, Gary was starting to get a bit agitated. We were having fun, but were running well late for our lunch at Saddleback ski resort, just east of Rangeley. So, back on the bus, and off we went. By this time my camera batteries had unceremoniously given up the ghost, so you will be spared any more photos of the day's activities.

Late or not, the buffet lunch was very nice, and I got chatting to a bunch of guys from Washington DC, who model Colorado 3' narrow gauge in Nn3 - that's N scale (1:160), on 6.5mm track gauge. They had a modular layout on display at the convention, which was spectacular, not least because of the tiny size of the models! It ran pretty well too - having modeled in N scale standard gauge, I'm well aware of the challenges inherent in getting reliable operation with these small models. Physics, and the inverse cube law work agin us here.

After lunch it was down to the site of Rangeley station [4]. Once again, not a lot left, but we did enjoy a hilarious few minutes when our bus snagged some low hanging phone lines,trying to negotiate a goat track we really had no right to be on. Never mind - we extricated ourselves without harm to bus or wires, and our driver deserved a big round of applause for boldly going where no bus had gone before.

Next, it was off to Marbles station, right at the end of the line. In days gone by, it served the Rangeley Lake House - a huge hotel, where rich Bostonians would ship themselves and their families off to for the summer. The station itself, now a private residence, is a cute little stone building with a turret. I didn't get any photos, but you can see some here

The lakes area really is spectacularly beautiful, and I can see why the 'rusticators' would have thought it worthwhile to make what must have been a fairly arduous trip a century ago.

Next we headed back south towards Phillips, and a stop off at Toothaker Pond, and Madrid Junction. The Madrid RR was another of the predecessor lines incorporated in the big '08 consolidation, and existed like a lot of the branches, only as long as there was timber to be hauled out of the woods. The junction was the site of a huge sawmill for a number of years, with the pond itself used as a log pond to facilitate getting the fresh cut timber from the RR log dumps up into the mill.

By now, the afternoon was getting on, so sadly we bypassed the old F&M, from Strong to Kingfield and beyond to Bigelow, and headed back to Farmington. This was a bit of a disappointment to me, as the F&M is the bit I'm modeling, but I remedied that oversight next day, under my own steam (metaphorically speaking :-).

At Farmington, it was time to bid adieu to my traveling companions. Many of them I would see again later in the week, back at Portland, but for this tired little pixie, it was back to the Herbert, dinner and beddie-byes.

Kermit goes Skyward

I had the corvette checked out by a local mechanic today, and had a good look at the undercarriage when it was up on the hoist. The news is all good!!

No structural rust - a bit of surface rust, but that's to be expected in a 32 year old car.

New brake-lines & calipers, New fuel pump & radiator, New shocks, and plenty of evidence of regular maintenance. All very reassuring. The emissions test indicates the motor is is good nick, and my test drive left me more impressed than I expected to be, and with a big grin on my face.

The VIN checks out as a genuine L82 (205 hp vs. 165 hp for the standard L48 motor), and as the hi comp motor represented less than 7% of that year's production, it is definitely more desirable from a collector's perspective.

Even better, it is remarkably original in almost every respect - or unmolested, as the collector fraternity would say. Not that originality is hugely important to me per se, but from a future resale perspective, I'm very comfortable that it will be a good investment, and the purchase price is very fair.

So, deposit paid, insurance sorted out, and now I must patiently wait for the wire transfer to come through from home to Brendan's account. It's gonna be a long weekend!

Slate Hauling, and a Grand Old Lady

Sunday, 26th August

After an agreeable breakfast at 'Moosehead Lake Lodge' [1] and a pleasant chat with Jack (I was his only guest the previous night), it was time to wend my way just a little further north, and see what I could find of the Monson Railroad, or the 'Two by Six' as it was known - two feet wide, and six miles long. It was the only one of the two footers to last into the 1940s, and it's raison d'etre for the entire history of the line, was to haul high quality slate from the many quarries on line, down to the the interchange with the 'broad gauge' (standard 4' 8.5" gauge in reality) Bangor and Aroostook at Monson Junction.

Monson depot [2] was easy enough to find, thanks again to Moody, and it is in pretty good shape. I was lucky enough to meet the owner of the property, who was was helping his long suffering wife pull weeds from the slate ballast on the wee bit of line they have adjacent to the depot. Once again, I received a guided tour, and a history lesson. Its neat to see these preservation activities underway, and in particular when it is the work of just a small number of folk with a personal interest in helping save part of their history. It kind of makes me think the human race aint too bad sometimes.

I wish I could remember the gentleman's name, as he was very friendly, and showed me where to find other signs of past activity, including a couple of the quarries, and spots where one can still see the old ROW. I even filched a genuine piece of slate ballast from up the line, as a souvenir















Monson Depot - my northern-most stop!

After leaving the depot, I spent a pleasant hour or so stooging around the quarries (amazing the places rental cars will go without complaint :-), and then headed off in search of the elusive Monson Junction, and the BAR interchange.

One of the old slate quarries serviced by the MRR, long since flooded

Monson Junction was always going to be a challenge to find. I thought I had located it on a 21st century map, extrapolating from period documents, but it is in the middle of nowhere today, with little to refer it to the present day topology. After my GPS optimistically attempted to send me down a 'road' which was actually part of the old right-of-way, and is now a snowmobile trail at best, I finally got lucky when I spotted a minor, minor side road, which the GPS map was silent on, name of Monson Junction Lane. Luckily there was nobody behind me, and after the smell of burnt rubber had dissipated, I nosed my way into the bushes, and voila! Confusion! Well, this must be the right place - that there building looks like an old depot, but it seems to be facing 90 degrees from what I expected. Oh well, snap a few photos, water the ballast, and hope I've got it right!

Monson Junction Station??? Note the flashing on the chimney - the whole building has settled a foot or so, as the foundations have disintegrated over the years.

I need to jump ahead a few days here, as my mystery did get solved, and I WAS in the right place. See the photo below, of part of one of the (prototypically accurate) layouts on display at the convention. The Station IS oriented at right angles to the BAR tracks, not parallel to, as one might expect.

Crap photo (I need a new camera), but it shows the station at right angles to the standard gauge BAR tracks. My 'real' photo was taken from just beyond where the end of the brown boxcar is located top right of the model photo.

By this time, my tummy was rumbling, so it was time to head off towards Kingfield in Sandy River country, with the hope of a good feed somewhere along the way.

Time for a map, eh?

Kingfield was an easy hour and a half drive from Monson country through very picturesque countryside, and was punctuated by lunch at the 'Antlers Inn' at a tiny village called Bingham. The food was nice, but the Inn should have been 'Antler' without the 'S', as the life-size Moose model replica outside was missing one of his. Looked most odd with one antler, and one piece of rebar, where the missing one had been :-). But hey, I finally saw a moose - well, almost.

And so, onward to Kingfield [4], and the Herbert Grand Hotel. Kingfield was an important town on the Franklin and Megantic RR, which was merged into the Sandy River and Rangeley Lakes RR with the other five Franklin County lines in 1908. The Herbert likewise played a significant role in the history of the town, so it was quite a thrill to be able to spend a couple of nights there. Do check out their website - I didn't get any decent shots of the hotel myself, and it's worth looking up the Grand Old Lady's skirts, so to speak.

After checking in, I just had time for a nana-nap before dinner - all this touristy business is hard work - then it was across the road for yet another nice dinner at a local restaurant. I think I might be putting on an extra kilo or two - no harm there.

Another early night was on order, in preparation for the legendary 'Gary Kohler 5 Star Whistle Stop Bus Tour of the SR and RL' on the morrow!

P.S. Why the h%$$ won't this blog let me use ampersands?

Foreign Exchange Wiz - or just lucky???? Plus, where did the $$ go?

If you ever need to do any foreign exchange transactions, or even heaven forbid, wish to speculate on the forex futures market, then do check out Eldridge-Lynch (www.fx.co.nz).

I bought a bunch of USD a month or so ago, at $0.76, and converted some of my leftovers back to NZD today at $0.695 odd. I can't really claim any great insight into the market, so the 9% odd profit is more by good luck than good management. The transaction fees are very reasonable in comparison with doing a wire transfer through any of our trading banks, and it's all done very painlessly over the web. Brilliant! Good customer service too. Big 'ups' for these guys, and they are 100% Kiwi owned to boot.

That leaves more than enough on a/c to pay for Kermit the Vette - here's hoping I don't find any nasties at the mechanic tomorrow morning.

I've also managed to sort out the mire of registration and insurance requirements needed for me to get an in-transit registration, and drive to LA, legally and comprehensively insured.

My other new 'toy' arrived this morning - the one I just blew $4.5k on. It's a portable oxygen concentrator. Say what???????

The majority of you know I've been battling Alpha-1 Anti-trypsin deficiency (a.k.a. Genetic Emphysema) for the last few years, and slowly losing. The timing of this trip has been interesting to say the least, as I've been right on the cusp of needing supplementary oxygen on a day to day basis for a while now.

I headed off from NZ knowing full well that things could turn pear shaped, but also with the attitude that life is for living, and I'm damned if I'm going to let a minor problem like not being able to breathe stop me from enjoying life to the full, and in particular, living this dream.

Well, as you may have picked up from an earlier post, I picked up a nasty chest infection on the plane on the way out, and it really laid me on my ass for a bit - right in the middle of the convention too. This prompted me to look into these devices in more detail (drawing on information from my wonderful support group on the ANZ Alpha-1 Yahoo email list), and with the support of Sheryl, my extraordinary GP, I elected to purchase an Inogen-1 concentrator, which should help enhance my quality of life quite significantly over the next few years.

I don't really want to say too much more on this subject - it is not what this blog is all about, but sometimes real life gets in the way. Suffice to say, challenges aside, I'm enjoying life immensely right now, and nose hose aside, I don't see myself as a victim here, and if any of you lot try to say different, well, just you watch out, OK? Nuff said!

Right, now give a few minutes to edit my post with the trial map, then scroll back down a coupla days, and I'll tell you what I got up to last Saturday.

Stop the Presses - 'Vette Found !!! ???

Well, I think I might have found the right car! Not perfect, but close enough.

It's a well maintained, very original 1975 L82 (the 'high' performance motor), 4 speed in a particularly lurid (but allegedly correct for the year) metallic green (yes, Ian, GREEN!!!).

It's a later model than I really wanted, and it doesn't have A/C, which I might regret, but in all other respects stacks up really well. And it's well under budget, which considering I just blew US$4,500 on an unanticipated but necessary purchase (more on this later), is a welcome bonus.

It is currently owned by a NY Firefighter, called Brendan, who seems a really nice guy, and has owned his 'baby' for 15 years. He's only selling it due to a second child having just arrived, and I got a good vibe from him - unlike a couple of other sellers I've met just recently.

Next step is a Friday morning trip to the mechanic for a lift on the hoist to check the chassis &c. for rust, and to do a compression check. If it passes that test, and another test drive, I think we have a have a deal. Fingers crossed!!!!!

Into the North Woods - (was playing around with Maps)

Saturday, 25 August

I had planned a fairly ambitious itinerary for this particular Saturday, perhaps a little too ambitious in the circumstances, but hey, the weather was great (high 20's, sunny, if a bit on the humid side), & I had 4 litres of Chrysler grunt under the bonnet.

After my usual leisurely start to the day, I left my hotel in South Portland [1], and crusied up I295 to the very pretty little village of Wiscasset [2], on the Sheepscot River. Back in the day, Wiscasset was the southern terminus of the Wiscasset and Quebec RR (Later Wiscasset, Waterville and Farmington Ry), the first of the Maine 2 foot gauge lines to be chartered. Second in size only to the Sandy River and Rangeley Lakes RR in size, it lasted into the 1930s before, like it's compatriots, it succumbed to progress, and the encroachment of the automobile.

More on the WWandF later, when I report on my visit to the museum at Sheepscot - a real highlight of the trip so far.

Wiscasset today remains a picturesque village, making a living from selling antiques to 'rusticators' from 'away', as tourists are known hereabouts.

I enjoyed a crab roll, (my first, and mighty fine it was too) and a local Shipyard ale for lunch, at a restaurant which used to be the local garage. Looking north towards the WWandF upper yard - old right of way on trestle-work on the right

My view overlooking the river corresponded very closely to a couple of photos in my trusty copy of Linwood W. Moody's The Maine Two Footers' which I had brought over with me for reference. It was a bit of a thrill (sad, eh?), to actually be on the spot which I'd read about, and to still see remnants of the trestlework, which carried the narrow gauge along the shore-front all those years ago.

Next stop was an hour or so north, to see if anything remained of the Kennebec Central RR. This titan of the two footers ran for all of five miles, between Randolph [3], and Togus [4], bringing coal from the deep river port of Randolph, on the Kennebec River to the Old Soldiers Home in Togus, as well as shuttling the old soldiers themselves between the two points, so they could sample the fobidden delights of Randolph, and Gardiner on t'other side of the river.

Looking across the Kennebec River to the location of Randolph yard - old yard retaining wall just visible above speedboat.

Apparently, the RR crews were known to help smuggle drunken old soldiers back home on occasion, when they were attempting to return home after lights out. I'm sure Matron would have disapproved!

There wasn't a lot to see here, RR-wise, but it's a lovely spot, and if I were an old soldier 90 odd years ago, I reckon it would have been an agreeable spot to wait for God. Mind you, I've not seen it in wintertime!

One of the many picturesque buildings remaining at Togus

Next up was back on the trail of the WWandF, this time, with a side trip to Albion [5], to check out what remained of the northern terminus of the line.

It was a bit of a challenge to find, not being on any modern maps, but I did get lucky, finally chancing on the right spot late afternoon.

I braved the 32 degree heat, and met all the members of the Albion Historical Society, who were busy working on building a new blacksmith shop adjacent to the old depot, which is undergoing restoration.

All three members gave me a guided tour, and I think they were quite chuffed that a Kiwi had come all this way to check them out - this novelty factor has opened a lot of doors for me here in the U.S., and you can bet I'm making the most of it :-).

I was starting to wilt in the heat by this time, so was happy to continue heading north through Waterville [6] towards my overnight stay at 'Moosehead Lake Lodge' [8].















Albion Station, and the remnants of the 2' line.

After dinner at the picturesque village of Dover-Foxcroft [7], I finally found my way through the boonies, to meet mine hosts, Jack and Joyce, at their very agreeable BnB, buried in the woods. Still no moose, but Jack did show me some nice photos of some wandering around the back yard. That, and two metre high snowdrifts in the front yard in February!

Well, by dusk I was absolutely shattered, and enjoyed an early night. Just after lights out, a front passed over, with a spectacular thunderstorm ahead of it. Sure killed the humidity, and set the scene for a perfect week to come, with blue skies, and balmy mid 20's temps. Absolutely Perfick!

The 'vette hunt, plus new photos

A few of the faithful have been asking how the 'vette hunt is going. The short answer is nowhere fast just yet. Today is Saturday morning, the first day of fall, and I have a weekend full of convention related activities to keep me busy.

Come Monday however, the hunt starts in earnest. I am keeping a watchful eye on e-bay, as usual, and there are a few likely suspects on my watchlist; plenty of options out there for sure.

The other heads up, just to keep you guys on your toes, is that I'm starting to add photos to some of my earlier posts - I'm currently about a week behind reality with the detailed travelogue, and another week or so behind that with the photos, so please bear with me - this is after all about living the trip, and not spending too much time behind the keyboard :-).

Heading 'Down East'

You would think it a trivial matter, to collect a rental car, to pick up a suitcase last seen in Oregon, to undertake a leisurely drive to a neighbouring city. Yeah, right!

The first step was straight forward enough. After a gentle start to the day, I checked out of the hotel (first time I've ever rented a room by the hour - cheeky buggers charged me an extra $10 to put checkout time back an hour to noon, but hey, the extra hour's sleep was well worth it), and hailed a cab from the front door.

One ten minute ride later, I was at the Hertz office closest to Boston South Station, where my big ol' suitcase was hopefully waiting. Another free upgrade; this time from the expected Ford Focus hatchback to a 4.0l Chrysler Pacifica SUV. Oh well, if I screw up, at least I'm likely to come out on top.

The nice lady at Hertz gave me a map, and showed me the route to the station - left, then left, then left, then straight for a couple of miles, and bingo; another Tui moment! I'm sure she threw an extra left in there just to confuse me, as I very soon found myself on the freeway headed for heaven only knows where. Off again at the first exit, and time to fire up the GPS. I finally found my way to back to Boston South, and circled the station like a hungry Hyena looking for a feed. After the third time, and no legal carparks in sight, I resigned myself to a bit of a walk in the 30 degree heat, and extended my search spiral. Voila - a sign! Station Car Park, quoth it in large friendly letters. Oh goody, thinks I.

Yeah right! It was the @#$% bus station car park! Fortunately after 2 elevators, an escalator, a ramp, and a 10 minute walk in the sun, I was back to where I had gotten off the train some 15 hours earlier. And no, before you ask, the checked luggage place wasn't open when the train arrived late the previous evening. It shuts at 10:00, and we got in about 10:05.

Still, at least my suitcase WAS there, patiently waiting. At least one thing is going right today! Time for a bite to recharge the old batteries, then reverse my route back to the car with suitcase in tow.

With my trusty GPS back on the job properly (the windscreen mount had been in the big suitcase), it was onto the interstate just in time to join the rush hour traffic heading north. To cut a very long story short, after only confusing my lefts and rights a couple of times (those cloverleaves sure are confusing when you have to do them inside out), I arrived at my digs in South Portland just in time for dinner. A quick unpack, and the across the road to a wicked Tex-Mex restaurant for a very welcome feed of spicy stuff, washed down by a 'Negro Modela' Cerveza. I would never have thought to put lime with a dark beer, but that's the way they drink it here in Mexico, err sorry, Maine. Mighty fine it was too.

Well, that was One Hot Friday, and bed was calling. I had some fairly ambitious plans for Saturday too...

Following in Giant's footsteps

As I awoke to a gray upstate New York morning, with nowt to see for miles but mist shrouded trees, interspersed with the occasional passing small town or river crossing, a few things came to mind as I sipped my morning coffee...

As a child, reading the 'Classic Comics' version of the 'Tale of the Headless Horseman', which was set in this part of the world. The mood outside just made it leap to mind - I know not why.

You may recall my earlier mention of reading Paul Theroux, before embarking upon this trip. His journey started on this very same train which I'm now riding - albeit in the opposite direction, so I thought that making that linkage was kind of cool too.

Another positive influence on me in recent times, particularly in terms of doing a blog on this trip, is Gareth Morgan. I was first introduced to Gareth when presented with his 'Silk Riders' book as a birthday present by Ted & Jenny (a.k.a. my parents). This documented a motorcycle trip following the in the footsteps of Marco Polo from Italy to China. This book was then followed up earlier this year by the release of 'Backblocks America' doumenting a similarly adventurous trip around North America. Both excellent reads, by a very intelligent and insightful, but down-to-earth Kiwi, and supported by an excellent website - World by Bike.
Gareth, Jo and crew are currently in Africa - well worth checking out, makes my wee adventure pale in comparision.

Anyways, back to the 'Lake Shore Limited'. Possibly a more apt moniker if you are westbound, but I slept through Lake Erie (or should that be past, as we didn't get wet), but one thing was evident - due to host railroad CSX doing major summer maintenance, we were going to be a good hour and a half late into Albany, NY., where our train split in two, with the main section continuing to New York City, while those of us bound for Massachusetts were downgraded to a coach only service for the last five hour leg into Boston.

Once settled, and underway again, I retired to the snack car to escape the mad-woman from San Francisco seated in front of me, who just would not shut the $%^& up, and settled down with a chicken burger, a half bottle of California Merlot, and Kathy Reichs (in paperback, I hasten to add). Not along afterward, I was accosted by a fellow passenger who accused me, in quite friendly terms, of being a railfan. This might possibly have had something to do with my wearing a bright red tee shirt emblasoned with Rocky the Mountain Goat, the Great Northern Railway mascot, which I had picked up at the Isaak Walton Inn.

It turned out that Dave was also going to Portland for the convention, so we had a bit of a chat over dinner. I must get more of these RR shirts - seems a good way of attracting a certain type of company. Hmmm I can think of other possibilities too......

Amazingly enough, we were only ten minutes late arriving in Boston. I did think five hours looked a long time for a relatively short leg. Methinks Amtrak keeps the occasional scheduling ace up their corporate sleeve.

A quick cab ride to my flash hotel in Back Bay, and all tucked up ready for bed by 11:00pm. A longish day, but I've made to the right coast, and state number 14!

Where are all the Moose?

Just a very quick update to say I have made it back to Portland after four fabulous days exploring parts of northern Maine.

Absolutely outstanding scenery, lots of interesting 2 foot gauge railway bits, and a couple of hundred photos to sort through.

The only fly in the ointment is inevitably I have picked up a @$#%^ chest infection, but with some aggressive self medication, I'm starting to get it under control. It's slowing me down a bit, but hey, nothing new there, and I'm damned if its going to spoil my enjoyment one iota!!!!!

Anyway, its sleepy time for me, and I promise I'll update things in more detail when I get a bit of spare time.

Oh, and where are all the Moose? Despite promises galore, the closest I got was road signs warning 'High Rate of Moose Crashes Next 7 Miles'. Why they keep giving them driving licenses I'll never know!

Into the Wilderness

I'm off to the north woods of Maine today for a bit of ferroequinological archaeology, and will likely be off the 'net for a few days.

I will catch you up on my doings since Chicago upon my return to the more civiised world of Portland, ME.

You lot behave yourselves while I'm gone, OK!

Windy City Wanderings

I had hoped to post a few updates before checking out of the Best Western, but alas, blogspot.com was deader than roadkill. Damn you Google! If you are going to take over the whole internet, you could at least make it work reliably!

So, back to Union Station – a slightly less traumatic trip this time. I checked my bag for retrieval later in the day, and jumped on a Metra commuter train out to Lisle via the BNSF ‘racetrack’ line. I’m pretty impressed with the city train service here – quite similar to Sydney, as it needs to be to adequately serve a city of four point something million.

As arranged, I was met at Lisle by Rich Weyand, another model railroading friend, whom I ‘met’ via email about 12 years ago, through our then mutual interest in modeling similar areas of the Norfolk & Western Railway in N Scale.

Rich took me to one of his favourite Italian Restaurants, where I enjoyed possibly the best Lasagna outside Italy, washed down with a very nice Italian lager. Rich & I enjoyed getting to know each other for real, and discovered a whole bunch of interests in common outside trains, which was really neat.

After lunch we cruised on back to Rich’s place in a nice quiet spot on the outskirts of greater Chicago, where I met his wife Wendy, and had a tour of his Pocahontas Division layout. It is considerably more impressive in person than in photos I had previously seen, and it definitely rates as one of the most thoughtfully designed and engineered layouts around, and the way Rich has captured the prototype is most impressive. Given the number of good layouts I’ve seen over the years, I don’t make such comments lightly, either.

We spent another very pleasant couple of hours gasbagging about all sorts of things of mutual interest, before heading back to Lisle, and my train back to the City.

Rich, thank you once again for your hospitality – it was a great pleasure to finally meet you, and I hope we can do it again some day. And I really do hope you get that book published. I want to read it!!!!

I got back to the city with a few hours to spare before my next train was due to board, so I caught a water taxi down the canal to Navy Pier, a tourist hotspot where the city meets Lake Michigan. I must have looked like a real tourist, snapping away at the Chicago skyline as we went. Once there, I repaired to a funky jazz bar for a beer and a bite, and then took another, even scarier, taxi ride back to Union Station. I swear that bastard taxi driver was trying to kill us both! Is it absolutely necessary to accelerate to 60mph in the space of every 200 foot long city block? Didn’t you know that leaning on the horn continuously does not guarantee that 6 inch gap is going to open up wide enough to insert us into every time without fail? I was definitely ready for a cup of tea and a wee lie down after that experience!

By the time I retrieved my bag, and got myself checked into the flash Amtrak Metropolitan Lounge, I literally did only have time for a cuppa before the boarding call came through. The Lakeshore Limited doesn’t leave Chicago until 10:00pm, but we sleeper passengers get to board at eight, and enjoy a pre-launch wine & cheese party before the off. Very civilized! I enjoyed the company of two very nice sisters, and their young companion, who were also doing the Portland to Portland run. Amongst other things, we got chatting about cars, and Stephanie, one of the two sister, just happens to have a daughter in law, whose father restores old Corvettes! She very kindly hunted me down before we left the train, and gave me his email address, along with a note to say he would be happy to hear from me. Cool eh?

I got myself settled for the night, and from my bed, watched the lights of Chicago recede behind us. Then, another state line, another time zone, and a good night’s sleep, with no early morning deadlines to worry about.

A Nasty Case of the Robbie Burns’

As in ‘ The best-laid schemes o' mice an 'men gang aft agley’….

We were awoken at an unreasonably early hour with the news that flash flooding in eastern Minnesota had washed away the tracks, not only of our intended route, but also the only practical backup route to Chicago. I guess that is only to be expected when you get 12 – 17 inches of rain inside 24 hours. As a result, we were to detrain at Minneapolis-St. Paul, and would be bussed the remaining eight or so hours to Chicago. Oh Joy!

Trying to get 300 odd people onto buses proved interesting for the Amtrak officials, and I did get to see a couple of good examples of ‘Ugly Americans’ amongst the passengers. I can’t quite see the point in trying to blame the whole thing on Amtrak at the top of one’s voice. It got quite farcical, as one or two others started trying to shout down the original heckler. Get a grip guys! At least we will get to Chicago eventually, unlike the seven people who perished in the flood.

The trip itself wasn’t actually too bad, and we were no later getting into Chicago than we would have been anyway! It was a relief to get there though, and for a while I just stood on the sidewalk in amazement watching the world go by. What a madhouse! I’m glad I wasn’t driving, and the cab ride to my hotel was one of the scariest 10 minutes of my life to date. These people are nuts! Far worse than L.A!

I got settled in my hotel, which had a distant view across Grant Park to Lake Michigan. It was warm and very humid, and it felt mighty fine to have a nice long shower and wash off a bit of travel grime.

Then it was downstairs to enjoy pizza and vino at a sidewalk café next to the hotel, followed by the best night’s sleep I’d had since arriving in the States. I think my body clock is finally adjusting, thank goodness.

The Empire Builder Strikes Back

Back on board my train, and eastward bound once again! I was quite frankly worried about Marias Pass. Although it is the lowest point at which one can cross the continental divide between Canada & New Mexico, it is still up at 5318 feet, a good 1500 feet higher than Essex. Well, I didn’t even notice it – maybe a day spent acclimatising at Essex helped. That hurdle out of the way, I relaxed and enjoyed the trip down the eastern side of the Rockies, and out onto the high plains of eastern Montana.

I now see why it’s called ‘Big Sky Country’. Just acres and acres of gently undulating prairie grass as far as the eye can see, and the great dome of the sky overhead. And so it remained through into North Dakota, and presumably well into the night as well, punctuated only by the occasional town, and more often by the many prairie skyscrapers (grain elevators), located trackside at regular intervals along the route.

The highlight of the afternoon for us nobs in the sleepers, was a wine and cheese tasting session in the dining car. We sampled four different wines from Washington state, and four cheeses from Minnesota. All very nice, but I was gutted at not winning a very nice bottle of Shiraz, by failing to guess the Conductor’s quiz question as to which famous Rock Group he had in mind, of which all four members were dead. The answer was of course – Mt. Rushmore!

I seem to have developed a habit of being seated with elderly retired couples for meals, and I had three very different ones on this leg. Most of the conversations tend to be fairly superficial, as one would expect, however my dinner companions proved a little more interesting. They were from Boston, and had retired to North Carolina. They were quite obviously better educated that most I had met to date, and reading between the lines, Paul had obviously enjoyed a successful and lucrative career in business &/or finance. We somehow got talking politics (which I had promised myself I was going to stay away from on this trip), and I learnt quite a bit about how the political climate has changed here in the last year or so, and some of the challenges facing the US as the world economy is evolving.

I think he appreciated my views as an outsider, and I tried to be tactful. He even agreed with my assertion that America as a country is very much like a teenager in comparison with Europe – thinks it’s 10 feet tall and bulletproof, is full of testosterone, and has that sense of insecurity that a lot of us don’t grow out of until we reach adulthood.

The Compleat Angler

What has fishing got to do with traveling on Amtrak? Well, ‘The Compleat Angler’ is perhaps the seminal work on recreational fishing, and was written by an English gentleman by the name of Izaak Walton, and first published in 1683.

In 1929, the Great Northern Railroad constructed a bunkhouse in Essex, Montana, as this was then a crew change point on the railroad. In around about 1949, changes in operating practice meant the bunkhouse was no longer needed, and it was converted and upgraded to become the Izaak Walton Inn, and was of course named after the fishy fellow himself.

The Inn still operates today, and was to be my home for an all too brief 24 hours. It is located on the southern border of Glacier National Park, a very spectacular wilderness area, renowned for its natural beauty, black bears, glaciers and fishing.

I was quite content just to ‘lax out at the Inn, and enjoy a quiet day not traveling. I had thought about doing the Jammer Bus tour up through the park, but it was always going to be a very tight connection, and given the Empire Builder was 20 minutes late coming into Essex, that pretty much put an end to that idea.

I was operating in extra slow mode, as the altitude was proving a little challenging, but the staff were most accommodating in helping me with my baggage, and getting me settled in.

The Inn is a fascinating place to wander around, as it is absolutely chock full of railroad memorabilia. It could have very easily have been horribly kitsch, but wasn’t, as much as anything because it actually is the genuine article.

After a nice lunch accompanied by a local ‘Honey & Huckleberry Ale’, I went for a gentle amble trackside to take a few photos and do a bit of railfanning around Essex yard. This brought to mind the reason I was there in the first place. A number of you will have had the pleasure of knowing Mark Coldwell, a very dear friend who was taken from us last year at far too young an age. I think it’s fair to say that Essex was one of Mark’s absolute favourite places to visit, and so it became an important stop on my trip as well. It was quite a bitter-sweet experience sitting there trackside, watching the world go by, and reliving a very special ten year friendship. Thanks for the memories Mark!

Wandering back to the Inn, I met a chap who had just pulled into the carpark on his very tasty BMW R100GS. We got chatting about bikes and biking, as you do, and after a humorous few minutes spent bagging poseur Harley riders, Jeff must have thought I was tolerable company, so he invited me down to the flagstop bar for a drink. Montana has a thriving micro-brewery industry, so I enjoyed a local IPA, and Jeff had a hot toddy.

He was just out for a Sunday afternoon ride from his home in Whitefish, 50 miles or so west, and the Izaak Walton is a regular stop off for him whilst enjoying the twisties the area has to offer. Nice bloke, and a bit of a larrikin, I’d say. It was interesting to meet a genuine Montana native too, as everyone else around the place seemed to be from ‘away’.

After a very tasty dinner of chicken with huckleberry-orange sauce, I repaired back to the bar to do battle with the rather dodgy Wi-Fi connection supposedly available down there. It proved to be an exercise in frustration, as the connection kept dropping, and I think I only managed to get one post away successfully before giving up in frustration. Instead, I had a quiet giggle over my Cab Sav, watching a couple of lezzies trying to play pool. Then it was off to my very nicely appointed room, and an early night, due to another early start on the morrow.

As it happened, I could have slept in a bit longer, as guess what – today’s train was running even later than yesterday’s. Something tells me I had better get used to this….

Four States Before Breakfast

I got myself settled in my roomette on the Empire Builder, in good time before our 4:45 departure. Tarek, my sleeping car attendant, cheerfully hauled my bag upstairs for me, and got me settled with a Piccolo of California Methode Champagnois (incidentally, in California, Extra Dry seems to mean somewhere well on the ‘Sec’ side of ‘Brut’ – Gill, you would drink it by the caseload I’m sure).

California Dreamin'

Off we went, straight over the Columbia River and into Washington State. We hung a right, and continued up the north bank of the Columbia River for 55 odd miles. That is one majorly impressive waterway! Wildlife spotted en route included salmon, deer, seals, and Washingtonians with Guns.

Crossing into Washington State

I met up with Shane & Nancy, a nice couple from the wilds of NW Alaska, who were traveling up to Spokane. Shane was of Cherokee stock, but had lived up in Alaska for some years working as a commercial crab fisherman. It sounds like a bloody hard life to me, hauling 7 foot square crab pots up from ridiculous depths, 200 miles out into the Bering Sea. This is on a 185 footer, with a hold capacity of a couple of hundred thousand pounds! Like a lot of things round here, you come across stuff that is on a scale which is hard to comprehend in terms I’m used to.

Looking south across the Columbia River, at Mt. Hood back in Oregon

After dusk fell, and we started to head more northward, leaving the Columbia River, and heading for Spokane, and a rendezvous with the Seattle section of the Empire Builder.

We got to Spokane about half past midnight, and spend half an hour or so consolidating the two trains into one for the remainder of the trip east, and the headed off into Idaho. I totally missed Idaho, and when I woke up about 7:00am, we had already been in Montana for a couple of hours.

My next stop was at Essex, a couple of hours further east. To be honest, I was having a few reservations about this next section, as we had been climbing all night and the lowe air pressure was making things a bit uncomfortable. Still, no way was I not stopping as Essex....

Serendipity

This is one of the really cool things about this trip so far – once in a while something totally unexpected will pop up, and really make your day. At Frank’s suggestion, I went into Pioneer Courthouse Square, which is the hub of the city. My cab driver told me about an event called the ‘Tour de Fat’, which was taking place down on the riverside, just a few blocks from downtown. I caught a free tram down to the river and wandered along a bit, enjoying the lovely sunny weather, and the general ambiance of the place.

The abundance of bicycles was my first clue I was getting close. The second clue was the live music, which I can only describe as a fusion of Jazz, Punk & Rockabilly. The venue itself was just a big fenced off area of grass on the riverside, but with free entry – the fences just being to keep things contained. The Tour de Fat itself, is a celebration of bicycle culture, beer, and sustainability. The whole shebang is solar powered, features two stages of all sorts of really entertaining ‘fringe’ music, comedy, whatever. The beer is served in plastic ‘glasses’ which are made from corn, and are biodegradable – what a cool idea! While I was there they were holding bicycle races to see who would win the 2007 Portland Slowest Bicycle Rider championship. This was eventually won by a dude on a seven foot tall unicycle, who seemed to be able to balance himself in one spot for as long as he liked, whilst drinking a pint of beer.

As well as enjoying the beer and the very friendly buzz of the festival, I was dazed and confused, amazed and enthused, about the sheer variety of bicycles, skin art, wacky hairdos and outrageous costumes on display. It appears that mutton chop whiskers are very much in vogue in Portland this summer. I did get a few photos on my cellphone, but will have to wait to get home to retrieve them.

After a couple of hours of sitting in the sun giggling, I figured I had better wend my way back to Union Station. I could have cheerfully stayed much longer, as the whole thing was an absolute hoot. Anyway, after a few minutes gentle amble, nature was calling (one only rents the very fine Organic Amber Ale for a short time, sadly), so I repaired to Paddy’s Bar & Grill for a pee. Not wanting to be rude, I thought I had better have another beer, and sat at the bar marveling over their ‘top shelf’. This would have to be the most amazing collection of liquor I have ever seen – seven shelves, about 35 feet long, full to the gills with anything and everything one could possibly imagine. I briefly contemplated sampling a single malt or three, but after not being able to choose, opted for a Tia Maria for the road, and asked the barman to call me a cab.

My cabbie, Jeanette, duly arrived and we wandered off, arm in arm, towards her cab. I think she thought I was much drunker than I thought I was. I’m still not sure who was right, but we did have a fairly lucid conversation, so I can’t have been too far gone. In fact, I was her last fare for the day, and as we got chatting, I discovered her Dad is a bit of a train nut too. Discovering I was likewise afflicted, she decided she was going to take me to see some old preserved locomotives heaven only knows where. I said that it sounded like fun, but I was running out of ready cash, so not to rack up a big fare. ‘Not a problem,’ quoth Jeanette. ‘It’s about $5.00 from here to the station’, and then she switched off her meter, and off we went on a tiki tour. The closest we got to the locos was a distant view from an overpass, as by the time we got that far we were both starting to run out of time, so it was off back to Union Station. However, I did get to enjoy the company of an awesome lady for half an hour or so, and a free tour of Portland, with a lot of laughs beside.

Jeanette duly delivered me back to Portland station with a comfortable amount of time before my boarding call, we swapped business cards, and that essentially, was Portland. What a fabulous afternoon it was, and all totally spontaneous. I was sad to have to leave, as it was just such a cool place, and I would like to have been able to see more of it. In fact Oregon generally rates as a really cool place in my book. Still, another 25 odd states to go, so we shall have to see if it holds up long term.

Pushme-Pullyu

Saturday started with a quick trip back to Hertz, to return the lumbering beast. I’d ordered a cab the previous evening, to pick me up from there at 8:30am, and surprise, surprise, he was there on the dot. Auckland cabbies could learn something from this!!!!

A quick 5 minute drive to Eugene Station, left me with plenty of time before my train’s scheduled departure at 9:15. This train, the 1004, was a push-pull service which arrived from Portland just before 9:00, and then disappeared back towards Portland, on time, with me on board.

It was an interesting consist, with an F40PH locomotive on each end, and one single level coach and a snack car sandwiched between. The only bugger was that there was no checked baggage service, so I had to wrestle both bags on board, and nearly blew a foo-foo valve in the process. I breakfasted on the train, partaking in something Amtrak euphemistically call a ‘Breakfast Sandwich’. It was actually a hot Bagel, filled with a sausage patty and scrambled egg. Odd, but actually quite nice when accompanied with a coffee.

We duly arrived in Portland, Oregon after a couple of hours traveling through mainly open farmland – more cropping than livestock, with a few stops in smaller towns en route. The last 20 minutes or so were alongside the Willamette River, through scenery remarkably like the section of SH1 that parallels Lake Karapiro back home. Very pretty, and a pleasant contrast after the rather dry, depressed looking cropland further south.

The approach to Portland Union station is via a very impressive two-level steel bridge, with the railroad on the bottom level, and vehicular traffic up top. The station itself is very impressive, and what was even better was having my baggage whisked away by a waiting attendant, straight to the very posh lounge reserved for us up-market types traveling onward by sleeper. Frank, the helpful lounge attendant sorted me out, so I was ticketed all the way through to Boston, and also checked my big suitcase all the way through to there as well. That is quite literally a big load off my mind, and I won’t need to worry about it until after I pick up my next rental car in Boston.

I had a four hour layover in Portland before my first leg on the Empire Builder. Hmmm – what to do?

Tenses, Time Zones & Technology

I’m finding it a tad confusing keeping track of the days with some of these posts. I’m generally writing them offline, a day or two after the events themselves, and then due to the vagaries of internet access, it can be another day or two before they actually get published.

For example, as I write this, it’s Monday, just coming up to 3:00pm Mountain Time (that would be 9:00am Tuesday back home), and I’m riding the Empire Builder, just east of Havre, Montana. Hopefully I will get on the ‘net from my hotel in Chicago Tuesday evening, and you’ll be able to catch up with what’s happened since my Friday afternoon, on your Wednesday afternoon or evening. There! I’m glad we’ve got that all sorted out!