Trains meet at Dolores in this stunning header shot!

o the usual way this works is that I come to a layout, the owner surrenders it to me, and I dispatch. Yeah, he might have paid for it and built it, but I’m the guy who runs it.

With Al, with his literal and archaic perception of ‘ownership’, that can cause issues. But this time, I would not be dispatching. He had a visitor who, I believe, was working on AP hours. Since Reverend Jim was off with grandkids (which I view as a character flaw), I was bumped down to station operator in charge of Navajo, Dulce, Placerville and Placerville Junction. Al would be on the other side of the room, working Denver Yard, Alpine, and the balkanized town of Deloris (oddly, divided into stations “East” and “West” – such a metropolis. I mean, can’t people walk three blocks to the other station? I thought these were hearty mountain folk.

So the newbie dispatcher was (a) a visitor and (b), as mentioned, new, so he was not out to make waves (as opposed to my tsunamis). I’m not being critical – its just that he moved markers and really didn’t issue any orders (and this was with three extras). And that left Al and me to rush into the void like two highly-combustionable gasses.

A train rolls into Denver Yard, the crew ready for beans!

This became noticeable when 124 left out of Denver and arrived at Dulce. I was standing on the warped boards of the station platform, watching the boys shunt and shove their cut about, working the gramps tanks and getting a little tangled. I’ll admit that the string looked a bit long for the usual shorties we run – before departing, they found a car or two they overlooked and had to crowbar them out of the cut. The clock ticked. 124 was now seriously late. I advised the dispatcher of this. I heard the Denver operator call that 122, the Navajo Turn, was clearing yard limits. It would reach Alpine shortly and there was more tunnel than open sky between there and Dulce where 124 was working, oblivious to being forty-five minutes late. Since the crew was muttering all sorts of words save “flag”, I realized they were unprotected. This is why I called the dispatcher and requestion holding 122 in Alpine until we could untangle my station.

The dispatcher agreed, and a second later, Alpine operator hooked onto the line. “Aline is my station. Why are you telling me how to run it?” “Because nobody else seems to mind that I’ve got cars all over the property and we’re still fussing them clear.” We barked and snapped a little more while 122 held, during which time the 124 announced they were ready to leave. I still remember the conductor pulling out his timetable. “So, we’re ready to go. Oh, a little late, I guess.” Yeah, over an hour, and I am literally protecting your ass.

An afternoon westbound works Alpine. Keep your voices down – this is avalanche country!

Still, this shouldn’t come off that the session was as rocky as the mountains towering over us. Actually, in my mind, it was probably one of the best sessions. 122, even though running late because of the aforementioned delay, worked Navajo quickly and cleared for through trains, making up their time and hitting Denver close (if not on) the printed. And 243 did a masterful job at Placerville, finishing up well before 391 rolled the Junction, which put all the Dolores meets on the dots.

The Dispatcher shut down his desk to take a potty break near the end of the session, not the best move since THREE extras were coming in at end-of-day. Extra 51 would overtake the busy 122 at Dulce, and there was still Extra 42 coming up from Denver for an Alpine meet with one if not both of them. With nobody in the dispatcher’s office, I jumped into a phone booth and reemerged as “DispatcherMan!” I gave orders for Extra 51 to pass 122 at Dulce (they were already clear, had set turnouts and were standing by). But Al countermanded my orders, making me have to hold the extra in the tunnel above Ute Junction. Sure, Al, stop a train in a tunnel and smoke out the crew, why don’ca? After exchanging points of view, he laid one across my jaw and I conceded we’d do it his way. I spat out blood and a tooth and slunk back to my Navajo office, muttering empty threats.

I wish I could have hung out for the briefing. The crews of 122 and 243 gained my respect for quick on-site work and I would have noted this. But overall, I think it was a great day on the Western Bay. Thanks to Al for hosting us and feeding us.

All that was left was my big adventure in Miami later that evening, but that’s another blog.

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(All photos: Al Sohl)

Al assigns crews based on careful consideration. In this case, the train whose switching involves the highest and longest reach goes to the two shortest guys. But Chip and Jack nailed the run!