SD40-2's On Ice

In the last episode, we took an uncontrolled ride down the controlling grade on CN's Lumby sub.  The train, heavily loaded with forest products including lumber, plywood veneer, wood chips and poles got away from me and, at times reached more than twice the allowable speed limit.  Right at the bottom of the hill was an old wooden trestle that had been downgraded to ten miles per hour.  We approached it doing upwards of fifty miles per hour and.... well, we made it and stopped without rolling over into the valley below, or causing any personal injuries.

However, there was considerable damage to the braking apparatus under all of the locomotives and that had to be fixed up enough to get them to the nearest facility, which was in Kamloops where they could be fully repaired and put back into service. 

Naturally, they had an envelope full of demerits they wanted to give to somebody and I was the logical choice; I had, after all, been in control of the train. At least until I was no longer in control of it. 

In an apparent effort to build an iron-clad case against me and not jeopardise the employment records of the other members of the crew, CN's local manager called upon one of the Engine Service Brakemen (ESB) assigned to the terminal to make a round trip on the Lumby Switcher to observe my performance and report back to the supervisor/manager.

So, the next day I arrived at the yard office to find my conductor and brakeman 'booking in' while the car checker was printing up a list of the cars that were to be spotted at the various industries on the Lumby sub.  As well, there would be cars already on spot that would have to be pulled and brought down to Vernon for furtherance to Kamloops and beyond. 

Don would spend a half hour or so on the phone with the shipping clerks at each of the industries on the hill, and from those discussions, he would decide which cars would be taken with us, leaving some in storage near the Lumby Jct. switch where there were four tracks used by both CN and CP crews to hold out traffic.

Through the partly opened door to the manager's office at the far end of the hallway, I could see "Bob", the ESB I mentioned earlier, casually slumped in a chair and deep in conversation with the manager.  This wasn't unusual.  Bob could quite often be found in close proximity to the manager and in fact, seemed to exercise considerable influence in the decision making process and operation of the Okanagan Division.  I took the brakeman with me and we went to check out the locomotive consist that we would use for the day. 

Once settled in, brake tests completed and cab swept out, I called the office to tell the conductor we were ready to go.  Within a few minutes, he opened the front door of the SD40-2 and stepped into the cab.  The look on his face told me that something wasn't quite right.  He pursed his lips and began whatever he was going to say with..., "Well..., " and he said it with a bit of a western drawl.  Don had a large repertoire of interesting, sometimes poignant, and always full-of-meaning sayings that he used at the most opportune times.  Sometimes serious, sometimes humorous, but always to the point.  I liked working with Don.

On this day, he finished his opening sentence with..., "it looks like were going to have company today."

"Oh" I said. "Who's coming with us, and why?"

"Well....," he said. "I don't know the 'why', but the 'who' is Bob," the local engineer, ESB I spoke of earlier.

 I knew by the look on his face that he knew much more than he was going to tell me.  He had a rather simple philosophy about almost everything, and it was obvious he was applying one of his favourites on this day.  "In any given situation, there's two ways to handle it..." he would say.  There's "Lever A" and "Lever B".  This situation called for "Lever B" (Leave 'er be) and I would find out the "why"soon enough.

At that point, Bob stepped into the cab and the brakeman, Eddy got up and gave him his seat. 

"What are you doing here today, Bob", I asked?

"Uh, the boss asked me to tag along to, uhhh, have a look at the subdivision and, er..., well, to see if, uh, well, how the track is, and, uh.....". He trailed off to catch his breath.

"You mean, you're here to check me out...", I said.

"Yeah", he said.

I asked him if he was here in an 'official' capacity, but he said "No", he wasn't.  I thought about asking him to leave the cab, as he had no pass or other authority to be on board my engine.  But then, I thought...., if he gets hurt while riding with us, that will bring the wrath of the Worker's Compensation Board of BC down on the neck of the manager that I held in such high regard.  I kept my mouth shut, neither giving him my permission to stay, nor asking him to leave.

We spent an hour switching, picking up and setting out cars in Vernon and at Lumby Jct. where both CN and CPR interchanged cars with each other.  Once our train was all together and the SBU attached to the rear car, we had a brake test, checked our paper work one more time and left for our day on the Lumby sub.

The first nine miles was all uphill, and we were pulling empty boxes, bulkhead flats and chip cars for two lumber mills; cars of sand and soda ash for the glass plant, and gondolas and flats for another industry that shipped raw poles for hydro installations and log house building.  We would get rid of most of those cars on the way out, and some on the way back.  All in all, we never stopped for a break, or slowed down for any reason.  We had to be back into Vernon in time to add all the traffic we brought in to the cars that the Kelowna switcher brought to Vernon.  The Armstrong switcher would leave their cars in the first CPR siding south of Vernon, at Larkin.  The 'north' would pick those up before tackling the hill from Armstrong to Monte Lake that evening.

The weather had been particularly cold and the snow, once it began falling in November seemed never to stop.  City streets were clogged with the stuff.  Both railways, CN and CPR did not have snow removal equipment in the Okanagan, so we simply pushed it around with the engines and swept and shoveled to find and move the switches. 

Eventually, we left Lavington, after switching the lumber mill and the glass plant and we headed for the Riverside Lumber mill, just a couple of miles west of the town of Lumby.  There, we would slow down to check the doors on the boxcars spotted at the 'studs' track, then look at the chips being loaded in the tail of the studs track.  Beyond that, the conductor and brakeman would drop off to clean a facing point switch so that we could arrange to 'drop' our train on the two mile downgrade that led to 'end of track' in Lumby. 

After leaving the glass plant, I let the train roll down a gently curving downgrade that ran for about a half mile, then straight across a meadow.  The speed of the train had settled out about 30 mph (speed limit 25), but I knew that when we began to climb out of that hollow, the speed would drop and the engine would pass the "Cautionary Limit" sign at less than 15 mph and would continue to drop to less than 10 as we passed the loading platform of the studs track.

As the engine passed the studs track switch, the conductor and brakeman were getting ready to check out the boxcar numbers, door seals, handbrakes, etc.  Bob was keeping up an excited banter with the brakeman about not much in particular and I was watching the track ahead for the large rubber tired forklift that was often found foul of the main track in that area despite the fact that I always blew the whistle, rang the bell and ran with full headlights and ditch lights.   That forklift driver had nine lives, I'm sure.

The track took a slight turn towards the right as we ran beside the loading platform and I took a minimum brake to warm up the shoes in case I needed them in a hurry. 

Before the brake valve exhaust had stopped hissing in the cab, I "plugged it", putting the train into emergency!  All conversation ceased immediately and all eyes were looking forward, then at me.  It seemed that I was the only one in the cab who could see that there was a potentially dangerous situation developing right in front of the engine, and we were about to tangle with it.

It seems that the mill, in an effort to find a way to get rid of the vast amount of snow that had been accumulating during that particularly heavy winter season, decided to use that forklift to scoop up snow from the parking lot, the chip loaders, the access roadways, and the concrete railcar loading ramps..., and pile it next to the beehive burner.  The burner gave off an inordinate amount of heat which melted the snow and...., voila..., there it was - gone!  Well, it was almost gone.

As we know, water takes several forms, it doesn't just 'go away.'  In this case, the snow turned to water and flowed toward the loading ramp, over the edge and onto the studs spur.  It didn't stop there either.  No..., it flowed onto the mainline where it froze in an ice sheet about ten inches thick.

With the train brakes set in 'emergency' and the engine softly idling, we rode up onto the ice and, the front truck turned slightly, directing the engine into the page wire fence that outlined the cattle rancher's property and the boundary with CN's right of way.  And that's where we stopped our forward movement. 

Addressing the brakeman, I said... "Eddy, tie a hand brake on 'er please."  "I think we'll leaver her here for the day and go home by taxi."

Then, looking at Bob, I asked him how he planned to write this up in his report.  "Do you think the boss'll find a way to blame this on me?" I asked him.

He dug a cell phone out of his jacket pocket and called the boss to tell him what had happened.  There was a silence on the other end of the line that was audible.

During the night... (The Kamloops shop staff didn't like having to come to Vernon in the dark, or in the winter, and this was both of those.) a truck arrived with something called a 'Hoesh', and by morning, they had the SD40-2 back on the rails.  http://www.railquip.com/pages/prod01.htm

Also the next day, I paid a visit to the boss in his office, but he didn't seem to want to talk about my 'ice capades' the day before, so I left, knowing that I was still doing a good job.

What’s in a Name?

Sometime shortly after we’re born, we assume an identity which is partly attributable to the genes we inherit, and partly by the name we’re given.  We grow up with the realization that our given names are a good fit with the personalities we develop, or perhaps that isn’t the case at all.  Those who wonder what the hell their parents were thinking when you were given your ‘handle’ may live their entire lives trying to gather up enough courage to have their name legally changed, and at the same time, avoid hurting mom’s feelings. 

While my mother was waiting for me to be ready for my birth, she spent her resting hours reading the classics, one of which was the story of the Scottish King, Robert the Bruce.  

On the night before the battle in which the 5000 man Scottish army, led by Robert the Bruce defeated the 20,000 man English army of King Edward II, Robert must have felt discouraged knowing that he was outnumbered 4 to 1 by a well-armed, and well-trained superior force.  As the story goes, Robert sat in a cave, trying to plan a strategy that might result in an outcome that wouldn’t see 5000 of his countrymen lying dead in the mud, their fallen flag covered with their own blood.

As he sat, staring into the small fire that was only large enough to warm his legs, he felt abandoned by his tactical skills.  Then, he noticed a spider working steadily to build a web near the roof of the cave. 

Despite the cold, the humidity, the smoke from Robert’s fire, and groundwater that seeped through the rocks onto the spider, it continued to  spin its web, feeding it from the spinneret on its abdomen and carrying it from anchor point to anchor point.  The rock was wet and the web didn’t hold very well, letting the spider fall toward the fire below.  With each setback, the little spider arrested its fall and climbed back to the roof to look for a better spot to anchor its web. 

As Robert the Bruce watched, the spider continued until, finally, the web was finished.  The spider then moved to the center of the web and settled in to wait for its first victim.  Job done.

Perhaps my mother felt there was a good chance, being born into a railroad family, in a small railroad town (Capreol, Ontario), that I would become a railroader too.  If that was to come true, then I would benefit from the lessons that came from the story of the King, Robert the Bruce.

One of the things about ‘names’ that has always fascinated me, while at the same time, eluded me…, is a nick-name.  Nick-names are humorous, serious, malicious or descriptive.  As I advanced through my many years of railroading, I was called many things, but none of them might be called a ‘nick name.’ 

Jump ahead to the year 1998.  It had been a very long, hot summer in BC’s southern interior. After a wet spring, the valley entered summer with a thick, green blanket of growth.  Weed growth along the roads and railway rights of way reached almost unbelievable heights of more than ten feet.

CN MOW crew backing into Kalamalka siding. 
Photo by the Author

BC’s Premier Gordon Campbell (Liberal) delayed cutting the weeds that grew right to the edge of the province’s highways and, following suit, CN Okanagan Division’s Operations Manager refused to release funds to cut the weed growth along the right of way, in the yards and at public crossings at grade (road crossings).  The unions complained, wrote letters, made phone calls and made strong verbal presentations to the Ops Mgr.  He would not be moved, reasoning that the snows of winter would knock the weeds down. 

We struggled through the summer, but the experience wasn’t without some drama, but that’s another story…., or two.

That same year, winter arrived with a vengeance.  It came early, and it came hard.  Week after week of sub-zero temperatures, strong winds and heavy snow filled the low-lying places in the valley with hard-packed, driven snow. 

The Ops Mgr was right.  The weeds were eventually beaten to the ground, however the sturdiest of them took a long time.  Those that had grown closest to the track collapsed where they had grown, the wind blowing them over the rails in a great blanket of slippery fiber, snow and ice.  On the Lumby sub, where the heaviest snowfalls are traditionally encountered, pulling and spotting industries was particularly hazardous due to not only the deep snow, but also the tangle of weeds that lay beneath the snow cover.

The work was intense under the best of conditions.  In bitterly cold weather, when the crew-men are bundled up in layers of heavy clothing, heavy socks, insulated boots, toques, at least two pairs of mitts, one wool and one leather…, a job that is, by nature a dangerous one, becomes treacherous.  Even small mistakes can bring dramatic results.

We started this day with a ‘rescue’ of the southbound CN train ex-Kamloops.  The night crew hadn’t been able to get out of Kamloops Junction until their mandatory 12 hours on duty had almost expired, and as a result, they had to leave the train at Monte Lake, where we found it and brought it into Vernon. There, the motive power consist of four SD40-2’s was broken up to provide three crews with power to run to Kelowna, Armstrong and Lumby.  At the end of the day, the three crews  returned to Vernon where the power was re-consisted into a four-unit consist to take all the cars that had been gathered throughout the valley all day.  Such was the normal cycle of activity in CN’s Okanagan sub in the 1990’s.

Photographer unknown

CN M420's northbound at Westwold, between Falkland and Monte Lake, ca. 2002.

Timing was everything with this operation.  Whenever the southbound freight had to be rescued…, and it happened way too often, the whole operation had to go like hell to try to make up some of the lost time.  If that lost time wasn’t made up, the northbound train would arrive late into Kamloops Jct, resulting in another rescue, this time the train would have to be rescued in Kamloops, causing even greater delay.  Once this pattern developed, it would often carry on all week, taking the weekend to get caught up and back on schedule.  All in all, a bothersome situation.

Brakeman Mark Goode and Conductor Don McMillan 

Today we’re late.  The office calls, wanting to know what time we might make it back to Vernon. 

We had gone up to Lumby, switching Lavington's wood chip plant, the glass plant and Lumby's mills.  We were on our way back with one more stop to make at Lavinton.



Leaving Lumby with twenty cars for Vernon.

Photo credit Len Vandergucht of Salmon Arm



The CPR crew hadn’t yet returned from Kelowna and might get back to Lumby Jct. before we do.  We would have to wait for them to complete their switching at the junction before they could get up to the north end of town to put their engine on the shop track. Our Kelowna crew managed to get back to Vernon and had placed their power on the shop track.  The Armstrong crew was on their way in. 

Timing is everything. 

Our last stop on the way back to the junction was at Tolko (Forest) Industries in Lavington.  We had already picked up a dozen loads of wood chips at Lavington on the way to Lumby. Added to the wood chips, lumber and veneer we pulled out of Riverside Lumber at Lumby, we arrived at Lavington with a long, heavy train.  We left the loads on the main line and backed into the mill with some empty bulk-head flats and some Rail-Boxes for lumber loading.  We pulled the loads and spotted the empties, and returned to the mainline to couple onto the cars we had brought from Lumby.

After the air had been cut in and the pressure in the SBU had come up to 80 psi, I set the brakes for a brake test.  Since the rear portion of the train had already been properly tested, we did a proper setup and release with a walking inspection of the Lavington pick-up.

With everybody on board, I release the engine brake and edge the throttle out.  It's a bit of a lift, at first, as the train is sitting on an incline, but soon the train moves more easily ahead.  In a couple of minutes, we're heading down a steep decline into a swale.  Highway 6, the road to Lumby, Cherryville and other southern BC centers lies at the bottom of the swale.  I set the brakes, partly to prevent the train’s speed from exceeding the legal speed limit of 25 mph, and partly to satisfy my need to ascertain that the brakes were working properly.  With whistle blowing loud, we cross the highway and begin to climb out of the hole and onto a mile of straight, level track. 

The brakes have applied and the train feels steadied.  I move the brake valve handle to release them, working power and watching the air flow meter and the brake pipe pressure reading on the TIBS display.  The brakes seem to drag longer than I expected them to and are slow to release completely.   The speedometer settled out at about 15 mph and the brake pipe pressure slowly crept back up to a level I was happy with.

The conductor is in the cab of the second unit, writing up his train.  The head end brakeman sits across the cab…,  watching my facial expressions. We discussed the fact that the brakes seemed to be behaving a bit strangely, but since they had both applied and released during our brake test at Lavington, and had applied again as we were leaving there, we weren't overly concerned at that time.

Now, up out of the swale and travelling over the straight track, there was only a quarter mile of the flat track left ahead of us. I checked the BP pressure again.  It was slow recovering…, too slow.  The brakes have released, but without a fully charged brake pipe, I would have fewer options available to control the train's speed going down the hill. Was it the cold weather?  The train line was reasonably tight, with only slight leakage before we left Lavington. 

The bright orange light on the front panel of the air flow meter was flickering on and off, meaning that the air pressure wasn't pumped back up after our latest application and release.  As the engine led the front of the train off the level track and onto the 1.5 to 2 % descent to Lumby Jct., I cursed CN for failing to provide dynamic brakes on our road power.  Sometimes, air brakes alone just weren’t enough to do the job. 

I thought about stopping to check out the brakes, put up some retainers, or put on some hand brakes.  But, with an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach, and feeling the pressure to keep the train moving toward Vernon, I decided to keep going. I was gambling that the brake pipe would continue to charge and that there would be sufficient air pressure available to slow or stop when we were approaching Cautionary Limits, or the spot where we might find other train movements using the track were on.

The speedometer began to edge past 25. With some reluctance, I reduced the throttle to ‘idle’ and took a light reduction from the brake pipe. A higher throttle setting causes the air compressor to put out greater volume at greater pressure, and I needed that compressor working hard to replenish our air reserves.  I followed that with a light application of the engine brakes.  I wanted to warm up all the brake shoes on the train.  We had been clipping the tops off snow drifts over the track and I was conscious of the possibility that a build-up of snow between the wheels and brake shoes would make braking difficult, if not impossible. 

Our speed was still increasing. Feeling that I was running out of room ahead, I decided to stop the train on the hill. I made a heavy brake application and waited for the full-set brake to stop the train. 

The speedometer climbed past 40 mph.  The brake reduction I had made hadn’t given me the results I wanted. 

My options were getting pretty slim.  

With only a couple of cards left to play in my hand, I pushed the brake valve handle into the EMERGENCY position!  The sudden rush of cold air escaping from the brake valve was loud and jarring!  In an emergency situation like this, "plugging her", or "putting her into the 'Big Hole'" was a head-end man's second-to-last card to play.

The last card is whether to stay and ride it out, or ..., jump.

The brakeman had a look of real concern on his face.  The conductor called from his seat in the second unit and, speaking in a soft voice, said…, “Have you heard from the CP crew?”

He knew we were not going to stop anytime soon and was now concerned about whether or not the CP crew would be working at Lumby Jct. when we arrived there. 

My most immediate concern at that point was that we would roll onto the old wooden trestle at the end of the Lumby sub at great speed and end up on Kal Lake road below the trestle. 

 CN train on Lumby Jct trestle

RBH photo

We  called the CPR crew on every radio channel that we had in common.  We knew they had a switching channel that we didn’t have, and feared that we wouldn’t be able to reach them in time to avoid a terrible wreck. 

The speedometer stopped climbing at just over 50 mph, the indicator needle bouncing slightly as the faded, yellow “Lumby Jct. One Mile” sign came into view in the distance.  I edged the engine brake on a little more.  The brake shoes had been getting hotter and hotter and were now smouldering, as they began to crumble and fall away from their hangers.  Brake shoe smoke was now filling the cab. 

The brakeman, began looking through the contact list on his cell and discovered that he had a cell number of one of the CPR crewmen.  A quick call discovered that they were switching at Lumby Jct. and they said they’d clear off the main line and line up the switches for us.  

Soon, they were monitoring our radio channel, waiting to find out how we were doing.  The main line was clear, they said, and if it was at all possible, they would try to help in any way they could.  They had two GP-38’s with dynamic brakes and would tie onto our tail end and use their DB to slow us down…, if they could catch us! In the meantime, they took up a position where they would be handy to help us, if help was needed.   They were also in a good position to witness a spectacular derailment if we failed to negotiate the curved trestle and piled up in the valley below.  

 I called the CN office to let them know our situation, as there were a number of busy road crossings at the bottom of the hill, in downtown Vernon.  These would have to be protected…, if we got that far.

 I glanced at the speedometer.  It was at 43 mph and dropping slowly.  The brake smoke in the cab was getting severe and the brakeman had the front door held partway open with his boot in an effort to clear away the acrid smoke. 

The three photos above are provided by Andy Cassidy.

They demonstrate badly worn brake shoes and shelled wheels similar to, but not as severe as the damage done to the wheels in our story.

I knew the engine’s wheels would be hot, blue and probably condemnable, but I didn’t care a damn for the wheels at that point.  In fact, if the wheels broke into pieces, we’d soon be in a pile-up, but at least it would be a pile-up on solid ground and not inside the Kal Lake General Store!

With the engine entering the steepest part of the downward grade, the east end of the trestle came into view. 

Snow began to fall.  It was a peaceful scene, but perhaps not for long.

The speed began to fall as the brakes began to take hold.  The train’s brakes were finally working!

Now, with most of our train on the heaviest down-grade of 2%, and the engine reaching for the wooden trestle, the brakes dug in hard, bringing the train to a stop. The ancient timber trestle creaked and groaned beneath the weight of the locomotives and the loaded lumber cars.  Rolling slowly across the span, the train finally came to rest  with the engine sitting just clear of the west end of the trestle, and clear of the Vernon-Kelowna main line.

Notice the CPR locomotives beyond the roadway. 
 They're standing on the Kelowna line, just clear of Lumby Junction.
Photo by the author

The wheels were very badly burnt, with almost every colour of the rainbow evident.  They weren’t cracked, but…, oh my…, they were cooked!  And the brake shoes?  They were non–existent.  Even the cast brake rigging that held brake shoes in position was burned off every truck. 
The engine consist couldn’t be moved on its own.  Half of the Okanagan sub's motive power fleet was crippled. 

We called a taxi to take us to the yard office where we booked off duty.  The night crew had arrived and were instructed to take the remaining two units to Lumby Jct and bring the crippled units to the shop track. They grumbled, but had no choice in the matter.

As a post-script, and because you’re going to want to know….CN sent a couple of truckloads of men and equipment from Kamloops to Vernon, where they worked for 16 hours to make the units fit to be moved back to Kamloops for repairs.  The temperature on the shop track while they worked was in excess of minus 32 degrees Celsius. 

And that’s how I came by my nick-name….., HOTWHEELS HARVEY.

CN's Christmas Train - 1984

It was the night before Christmas, and all through the house

Not a creature was sleeping, not even the .... mouse?

I had worked on the spareboard the whole year through,

Rolling up the miles, like all good hoggers do.
 

All my vacation time used up, I had no paid days remaining.

The family was packing, suitcases were straining.

 

Warm socks and sweaters, mittens and slacks.

Our plans were all made; there were no cracks.

I had worked extra shifts, racking up the miles.

We were going away for Christmas.  Look at those smiles!

 

We gather for dinner, excited at last,

For tomorrow we leave, not driving too fast.

 

Granny's for Christmas, it's been our plan all year.

Kelowna's our goal, the road's good, I hear.

 

One more night and we'll be away for a week.

So, off to bed kids!  Have a good sleep.

 

We want to leave early..., get a jump on the crowd.

What's this? The phone is ringing; it's ever so loud. 

 

'Tis time for the 'Board Change'. But I have  nothing to fear.

For I have my miles in. I've put in my time for the year.

 

Should I answer it? It continues to sound.

The crew office perhaps..., I pick it up in one bound.

 

My mileage date is the 28th, and I'm good to that date.

What lies beyond that, I will accept as my fate.

 

Be it spareboard or midnight goat

I'll be the hogger and that's all she wrote.

 

But not just now.  We're off to see Gran.

Gifts are all wrapped. That is the plan

 

That could be the Crew Office calling to tell me I've been bumped off my spareboard job and onto a yard assignment.  I'm not concerned though.  I have my miles in and it won't hurt to take a few days off to spend Christmas with family.

My hunch, based on countless phone calls coming only minutes before the 18:00 cut-off on Friday evenings, the hour of the weekly board change, was correct.   It was the crew office.  I wasn't being bumped...., it was worse!!!

I was being promoted!  One of the engineers assigned to passenger trains 1 & 2 had taken a leave of absence at the last minute, and I was to take his turn for two weeks or more. 

I tried to beg off, but there was no one else available who had been qualified on steam generators.  I tried to get out of it, but when the Assistant Superintendent came on the line, I knew my appeal had hit the wall!

I told him that we had made plans to spend Christmas with family and couldn't change the arrangements we had in place. 

"Just do what you gotta do," he said.

In a flash, the solution came to me.  "... Do what you gotta do...?"

The next day, December 24th, 1984 found me climbing up the side ladder and into the cab of a CNR FP9a on the head end of number 2 in Vancouver, BC.

In the 2nd engineer's seat, Mark Liggins was looking through the pile of train orders, clearances, bulletins and instructions that would cover our movement over BN track to Sapperton, then CP track to Mission, across the Mission Bridge and onto CN track at Matsqui.  After that, we'd be on home territory to Boston Bar.

Passengers are moving up and down the platform, looking for their assigned car numbers; baggage carts are tranferring baggage and express into our head-end cars; trainmen and porters are standing close to their orange stepping boxes, assisting passengers with their onboard luggage.

The carmen call me to ask for a setup and I apply the brakes for our brake test.  Soon, the brake test completed we get the OK to leave Vancouver.  The train is now on it's way to Edmonton, Winnipeg, Toronto and Montreal. 

I had taken the Assistant Superintendent's advice and did what I had to do.  I announced to everyone at the dining room table that our plans had changed and, starting tomorrow, we would spend some of our Christmas Holiday as travellers on the Canadian National Railway's crack 'Holiday' passenger train.  They would get a chance to dine in the fine dining atmosphere of the dining car; would see sights along the way that too few people ever get to see and, would share in an experience at the end of the line that even fewer people could even dream of.   They would spend a night or two sleeping in the bunk house at Boston Bar.  However, because of the change in plans, it was agreed by all, and at the children's request, that the kids would spend Christmas with their father, and would come with us on the New Years run.   We're good to go!

During that two week period, the second engineer, Mark Liggins invited his father to join us on occasion.  Even so, the cab, which had three seats, never seemed to be crowded. 

 

Train Number Three, standing on the main at Boston Bar is waiting for orders which were being changed, due to a minor derailment somewhere to the west.

 Left to right, Bruce, Mark, Susan and Mr. Liggins Sr.



Number Four, meeting Number One at Mission.  Until later modifications were made to the operation, all trains moving over the crossovers west of CP's Mission station were governed by train orders, block indicators and manually operated switches.  Later developments saw the installation of CTC signals and powered, remotely controlled switches.   Here, our head end brakeman, Lorne, walked up and checked the block indicators, lined the switches and gave us a proceed signal by hand when everything was ready for the train to move westward.  



 

 



 In this photo, Number Four is headed by FP9a 6531.  Note, the strobes on the roof of the cab.  this was an eastern modification, and not often seen in the mountains.

 



Here, Assistant 2nd Engineer-in-training, Susan Harvey is watching for hand signals from the engine watchman who has been filling the engine's water tanks.

The weather had been typical for the south west slope.  It was cool, wet and sometimes foggy.  There were rumours that it could change to snow in a week or so, but for now..., it was to be a wet Christmas. 

On arrival at Boston Bar, the houses above the rail yard were lit up with strings of lights..., white, green, red and blue.  With no traffic on the highway, and only foot traffic on the narrow side-roads, Boston Bar appeared to be hunkered down for a long winter's nap. But, with a large planer mill in operation there, it wouldn't be long before logging trucks, fork lifts and log loaders would be rolling up and down every avenue again. 

But on this night, on Christmas eve, the gentle lights of quiet celebration served up shards of  coloured lights on the snow covered ground.

As we approached the station, bell ringing, the bare incandescent lights that hung under the eaves over the platform created a pool of daylight in the endless darkness.  The baggage cart waited just beyond the express office doors and the lights in the beanery showed up every empty table. 

After spotting the day coaches in front of the station, Mark, Susan and I stepped off onto the platform and walked back to the station where we wished the operator a Merry Christmas.  He told us that we were the only CN crew in town for the night, and the beanery was being held open so we could have dinner before retiring for the night.  Since all of the eating establishments in town were closed for Christmas, we were grateful to CN and the beanery staff for making this service available to us.

Regrettably, I can no longer recall their names, but the man and woman who operated the beanery in those days were fine folks who worked hard to provide good, home-cooked meals on short order and at fair prices. 

When we entered the brightly lit dining area, we found ourselves alone, so chose a table and sat down.  The lady came to our table and told us that we could have whatever we wanted from the menu, at the posted prices; however...., there was a fresh roasted turkey in the kitchen and we were welcome to share in the feast with the staff...., at no charge.  In fact we could eat our fill until midnight and wouldn't have to pay a dime.  And we did.   We had a wonderful dinner, replete with home made half pound butter tarts!!!!

Leaving the beanery, we walked over to the bunkhouse where we found the two storey building lit up, warm, clean and inviting..., but empty.   Therefore, we booked into our rooms and eventually turned in for the night.

Marks father drove to Boston Bar a took Mark home for Christmas, planning to bring him back before train time in the morning.

In 14 days, I made 7 round trips.  On four of those trips, my wife travelled with me. On the New Years trip, the kids came along too.

On the trip prior to New Years Eve, Delores, the woman who was in charge of the bunkhouse told me that the towns-people had invited us to join in the New Years festivities in Boston Bar.   I told her that I was grateful, but that we would have the children with us on that night, so would stay in the bunkhouse.  Delores told me that the ladies were aware of that and had arranged for a baby sitter to be available for us.  Wow!  Thank you Delores, where ever you are.

When we left Vancouver on New Years Evening, Mark was staying in the bunkhouse and he volunteered to keep an eye on the children so that Susan and I could go to the New Years Eve dance at the community center.

It had been snowing hard all day and the news was getting worse with each passing hour.  Only the passenger trains were being kept moving.  The highway was closed both east and west of Boston Bar.  

With driving snow skidding over growing drifts, we set out from the bunkhouse and turned up the hill toward the community center.  After only a couple of hundred feet of plowing through the drifing snow, we heard the voice of a man calling out to us.  Standing in the open doorway of a nearby house was Phil Moreau, one of the CN operators.  He waved to us and invited us in for an appy.  We were happy to join Phil and his lady for a visit.   When we got inside their house, we saw that they were prepared for a much larger party, but we were the only ones there.  Phil said that they had planned their New Years Eve party for months and were to be joined by friends who would drive in from Kamloops and beyond.  The snowstorm now in progress had changed their plans.  No one was coming and the table and sideboards were heavily laden with goodies.  We thought we would be doing a good turn by staying to ring in the New Year with Phil and his lady.

The next morning, with snow still falling heavily, we set out on Number 1.  With the train drifting lazily down the gentle grade out of Boston Bar, and large snowflakes seemingly hanging in the air, we listened to the thrumming of the 567's, easy exhaust sounds and steam escaping from uncountable leaks and vents.

By the time we left Yale, 27 miles from Boston Bar, Mark, Susan and I had been joined by a variety of senior CN officers who were enjoying a mid-winter break, coupled with a head-end ride on the old FP9's.   Lorne had brought them up from the coaches, and he also brought tall, strong coffees and warm muffins for the engineers.  He knew that I could use one after last night's revelry at Phil's house.  Thanks Lorne.

None of them questioned the presence of my wife in the cab and I wasn't concerned that they might.

After all, I was just obeying an order from my Assistant Superintendent when he said that I must "do what you gotta do."

There have been a lot of changes since 1984.  The FP9's don't pull passenger trains on CN main lines any more.  Stations and their beaneries have vanished, passenger service in Canada has nearly gone the way of the dinosaurs.  But, for now, and at least for the foreseeable future we still have Christmas, the winter Solstice and the new year.

Thank you, good friends, for sharing with each other throughout the year.  And thank you for reading Caboose Coffee's stories, which are my gift to you.

In closing, please accept my humble offering of a wish for a very Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

NOTE:

Mark Liggins sent an email with his recollections of our time together on the passenger train (backed up by his trip notes of the day).  I added his email to this blog in the "comments" section, below.