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Back in '92, North Bank Fred, world-renowned hobo and all-around great human being, convinced me to ride the Southern Pacific's last eastbound train (accompanied by a bottle of Gallo White Port) on the Siskiyou Line from Black Butte to Medford. I'd made a dozen or so trips to Ashland (the terminus changed to Medford after I left SP), both on the head end and on the helpers during the mid-80's, and the Siskiyou Line over the hump at Tunnel 13 was my all-time favorite run.
This said , my my first westbound trip out of Ashland was nearly a runaway when the brakes of our downhill train unexpectedly released.. For a L-O-N-G moment, it appeared as if we were going to wind up in the ditch, or more likely, in a heap down the steep mountain side. My recollections of this - "Mr. Toads Wild Ride "- can be found in the Summer, 2024 issue of Southern Pacific Historical & Technical Society's Trainline.
Though I no longer worked for SP in 1992 , both the head-end and helper engineers were friends, so I could have ridden with one of them. But OH NO! Fred convinced me to ride in a boxcar, something that I'd never done even in my brakeman days.
Riding in a boxcar was a revelation.
First off, you've never heard so much NOISE in your life! It was as if we were riding within the confines of a giant guitar reverberating away at 130 decibels. Distressingly, as Fred pointed out, much of the noise came from empty boxcar wheels banging down after lifting completely off of the rail as the train rocked along at twenty mph.
SP engineers the had a saying, "Don't look back when your piggyback train is pulling through a 10 mph siding," because low rail joints derived from lack of maintenance could cause a hellacious and disconcerting harmonic rocking on loaded, top-heavy pig flats at certain low speeds. Ignorance is bliss.
I confirmed Fred's assertion by, as he instructed, lying on my stomach and poking my head out the door to get a proper view of the car's lead truck. The realization that most of the train was doing this hit me like a hammer. Despite years of riding cabooses and pusher engines behind them, I had no idea that this sort of thing was the norm at certain low speeds on ill maintained rail. Yikes!
Nevertheless, the train made it to Medford in good order; we successfully evaded the SP Bulls (Police); and later found out that SP, at the last moment, this lesson in railroading was enough to sate me. So ended my hobo career...E.O.
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(above) Engineer Al "Double A" Marske labeled me "Hawaii 5" when I was a young SP fireman in Dunsmuir, due to my penchant for Hawaiian shirts. So in hobo tradition I came up with a (crudely drawn) moniker for the day's trip, which I scribbled on a few boxcars and bulkhead flats.
(below) A self portrait of North Bank Fred on another day, southbound out of Roseville
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(below) This eastbound passed while our train's crew switched at Black Butte. Today (2012), the former trainorder office is long gone, the victime of an Amtrak derailment, and the Black Butte Center for Railroad Culture lays across the tracks behind the row of trees. Their prize is a restored GN/McCloud River wooden caboose, to which Wx4 made a modest donation of T&G siding towards completion.
(below) 'The Help', with Engineer George Faithorn manning the tools, near Klamathon
(below) George's engine again, this time at Bellview, OR
(below) semaphores at North Medford)
Just after we bailed off behind the Medford Pak 'N Save, a local (the Brother?) headed into the yard.
Postscript: Most of the photography that day was done with a video camera (sadly, it's battery gave out at Snowden...), so the few photos below are sort of a 'teaser' for the clips that one day hopefully will appear on Wx4, assuming that staff technicians can figure out the stupid software.
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