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Just a few more trains for your viewing pleasure!!!

February 11th 2009

Roseville, California

The three of us said our goodbyes, and as they rode away into the cold dark night it began to rain. Of course, at this point all I wanted was a train, any train. Pacing back and forth in the area near the north and south bound departure tracks, I watch and wait intently for an approaching train going in either direction. I missed three trains as the rain fell all around me, seeping into the ends of my bindle, dampening my clothes, and bedroll. Finally I had, had enough. Walking in somewhat of a dejected manor towards a nearby bridge to lay out my gear, the rain blew sideways, spraying my sleeping bag, chilling my already dampened clothes and bones.

Sometime after midnight the rain finally ceased. In the morning as I awoke, I was confronted by Mr. Henry, Roseville's railroad Bull. He took my info, checking my I.D. He mentioned that through checking my name, he discovered that I had an extensive history with the Union Pacific Railroad, and that it would be in my best interest to leave the yard. After a lot of "Yes Sirs," I was on my way. I walked along to the west end of the yard, where I will wait for a slow, or stopped train going east.

Hobo life can be a real drag sometimes, as we are always trying to get to a new place, and simply ride trains to get there. "What's the harm in that?" Once again, here I am again in complete limbo waiting for night to fall on the cold quiet solitude of my home away from home; track side

February 15th, 2009

That was the longest four days that I can remember in a great long while.

I traveled into Nevada today completely by accident. Deciding to go into the yard between the first two trains, I waited patiently, and watched carefully to locate a worker in Roseville's "J.R. Davis" yard. Soon enough I had flagged down a fella who told me that the train on track one would be leaving at midnight going to Hinkle, Oregon. The train on track three, "my saving grace, or so I thought" would leave around nine pm, going north to end in Eugene, Oregon. I chose the early train!

I walked the entire train, as it snaked through the yard sitting silently in the cold of the falling night. From the middle to the front, and to the train's tail, I found only one rideable car, a shallow Rio-Grande gondola. Honestly not the best choice for a ride, as the sky was threatening rain. Looking like "Lego Logs" scattered in the gondola, there were layers of old dilapidated sheets of plywood, and rows of four-by-four posts. I immediately set to work building a "lean-to," using the material there in hopes to make a shelter against the impending storm brewing in the nights sky.

After a calm, and collected wait, my train started it's way out of town. I had already bedded down with a sense of accomplishment for finally making a train that would take me home. I neglected to see that in fact my train did not travel north along the route I had anticipated.

When I woke up early the next morning, at what I guessed to be half way between midnight, and sunrise, I discovered that I was being snowed into my little make-shift hovel. In only a few hours, there had accumulated nearly a foot of snow. Surrounded by mountains, trees, snow and cold thick fog; there is a comforting silence one can only dream of. First I stuff all my gear into the bottom of my sleeping bag. Then without even thinking twice about neatness, or order, I climbed over the edge of the gondola, descending the ladder to discover that the ground was blanketed with over two feet of powdery snow.

On the ground I take off at a slow steady pace towards the front of the train. I say out loud to myself, and to any god that will listen, "Please be an Engine at the front of this train!" Walking at first with the bag draped over my right shoulder, I think of "days of old," the people that have stomped along this very path, in as many other real "do or die" situations. Now, me! Sweating profusely, like every pore on my body has blown it's gasket, I switch the increasing weight to my left shoulder, and slow down to a slow, even slower than slow crawl. The snow, as deep as my mid-section, pushes against my body, wetting my entire bottom half, although I barely noticed. Only one goal in mind, get to the front of the train, or die!

Walking that way for what seemed like an "eternity," the ground is white, right there in front of me. As I slogged along, I could see that in the distance there were the shapes, and sounds of the Unit at the front of my train.

I can see the black, bold lines of the Unit's Cabin. There, also are very distinct features, forming the windows of the cabin there within it's cutting edge profile.

The sounds of trains are very special, and can indicate a trains actions when faced with a situation such as mine.

At first, as I trudged through the drifts of snow, the sense was that the silence surrounding me was astoundingly deafening. Then there in the opaqueness of the mountains, within the grasp of it's timeless existence, a snow storm brewed. Twisting, creating a swell of powder and wind looking like a tornado, and a hurricane teamed together, showing me the way to my chariot waiting. Despite being soaked completely through with sweat; my clothes beginning to freeze over the upper half of my body, I had reached the familiar hissing and popping sounds of the third and final Unit in line at the front of the train. As I approached the rear Unit I could hear the clear and unmistakable tsst, tsst, tsst, sound telling me that the train was releasing it's brakes and was about to move.

"Holy shit," I yelled aloud, nearly out of breath. I could hardly believe my timing. What a lucky break, I thought to myself. Had the train moved any sooner, had I stopped to take a piss, a break, I could have easily been stranded, stuck there in the mountains. Up till that point I still believed we were in the mountains stretching along the Pacific Coastal Range, on my way north to Oregon.

In the Unit I melted on the floor, still breathing heavily, as seconds became minutes. I finally thawed catching my breath, warming to the heater I had switched on the moment I had made the Unit's cabin. Helping myself to several bottles of water that are kept in the Unit for the crew, I lay completely flat and still, quite content with my situation. Happy for having true resilience, I travel now with my fingers crossed as the train slowly picks up speed, stealing me softly away into the night, home!

February 17th, 2009

Shangri la

In each Unit there are big, comfy, leather seats, like you might imagine in the cab of a "Big Rig." There is a bathroom available often located in the nose of the Unit, as well as a small refrigerator where bottles of water are kept for the crew. Very few people like riding Units and most prefer not to out of fear of a stronger punishment for being caught, but at times those same people will hike from there car the entire length of the train in order to find that lone bottle of water, or a slip of paper to wipe their ass. Another one of the Unit's finest attributes is that they each come equipped with heat, and air depending on the season. No matter the time of year, you are sure to have an exceptionally cozy ride.The floors are made of recycled tires and plastics, and the windows each open for a breathe of fresh air.

Proudly I exclaimed, "I am the Railroad Rabbit, Sir!"

Once boarded safely upon the train, it rolled only a mile I guessed, and stopped. I had been falling asleep in the chair, when the door opened at the rear of the Unit. Followed by a brisk rush of cold air and a blast of snow, the conductor came into the cab. I piped up saying, "Good morning Sir." With a startled jolt he turns and asks, "who are you there?" With a strong and unshaken sense of self respect in my voice, I say to him, "I am the Railroad Rabbit Sir."

After relaying to him my desired destination, and he sadly informed me that I was on an east bound train, crossing the infamous, and treacherous "Donner Pass." He went on telling me how fortunate I was for making it to the Unit. "We are headed into one of Northern California's most dangerous, and well known tunnel." He told me. Further more he added, "To most tramps and train enthusiasts, it is known as "The Big Hole." This tunnel is two and a half miles long, and travels at an uphill grade going east. Often eastbound trains traveling through this tunnel reach whopping speeds of only ten miles per hour. For any tramp or hobo this can be a real tough, and hellish two hour ride choking on the carbon monoxide of the trains exhaust.

The conductor allowed me to stay there in the heat of the Unit, knowing full well that if I was left there in the mountains, I could easily die in a snowy grave.