o after a nice drive to Tampa with Jeff C, and a cup of Burger King’s signature lukewarm coffee (ugh! Literally a stone-cold overnight pot-sitting blend) we arrived at Greg and Gail’s abode, had a great cup of piping-hot coffee and got down to the business  of running trains up and down the wooded hills and tight hollers on the West Virginia Northern.

So I spent all of my morning up at Harris, the high-point yard at the top of the Elkview grade. First I came in from Clifton Forge and swapped cars out. Then I picked up the Harris local job, perhaps trying to do two many functions at once. I was relying on memory of what I needed to do and how I could combine these functions, a very dangerous game. Even as I finished my yard switching and moved to be backlot to push up to the hilltop businesses, Greg came in with a train that had to swap out. I was left pondering if it was because I was slower than usual, more inefficient than normal, or just copping out. But then someone noted that Greg was running about an hour early, so whew, not Alzheimer’s, not yet.

Jeff hostels and hostels until his hosteler is sore.

After a capitol lunch, I jumped on a through freight – nobody expects much from you with this, and it’s a chance to run the dust off. Jeff C, I noticed, was Hostler King, having done it morning and afternoon (but he offered it to me first, so he was polite about it). So off I went on my run. All fine until I arrived at the high end of Elkview where I learned a lesson all railroaders know – don’t throw another man’s turnouts. I threw the main switch to line up for the helpers to come out but thought that helper would set his own spur turnout (which he thought I’d set). End result – heavy steam on the ground. We got it back onto the rails (or so we thought), coupled up, blew the whistle and started out. But while in the long looping tunnel, I heard a weird thumping noise. I blew my whistle and got a response. Asked the helper to blow, he did, heard it. So we were both technically on the rails, both still moving. Eventually we came out onto the steel trestle to see that the helper’s pilot wheel was off, thumping on the ties. It was a shared gasp moment – we bought the train to a halt clear of the girder cage and got the wheels back on. Given that we’d just gone through about ten feet of tunnel and a foot or so of framed bridge, there were a lot of places where a derailment would have be a nightmare.

Setting up to push up to Hilltop. Set the brakes!

The through run was over far too quickly and the next thing on the list was a local line job from Ashbury to (of course) Harris. I’d checked my time and still had forty-five minutes to departure but here came Gail on the varnish and I was supposed to run ahead of her. This seemed to be the hallmark of today – everyone was running early. So out I went. But I’d only gotten to my first stop, a riverside mill, and the West Ashbury yardlette is apparently paddling upstream in a kayak, asking when I’ll be done. Hell, I’m at my first stop, I’m running early, and that’s still not good enough. I just waved him off and continued on my way, switching my way through Darby and Elkview. Mounted the grade to Harris (only one car in the cut, so not helper tricks this time). Now, end-session at Harris is usually where things go south. I’ve come up there before on this same run to find two trains battling it out like Rock-em-Sock-em Robots. That time, it was so screwed that the session was called. This time, I spotted one operator (name redacted) just leaving up the Blackstone line. Otherwise, the yard was nice and tidy-clean. Great. But as I pulled up the passing track, I realized it was TOO clean. Where were the outbound cars for me to take back to Ashbury? I’m supposed to swap here! And I see them, over on boundry rails at the far edge of the yard, a set of suspicious freight cars on the coal track. Pulled the cards off the peg – sure enough, these were supposed to be sorted onto the various Harris tracks (including the two I needed). Called Mr. Redacted over and asked. He looked at his instructions “Did that. Did that. Did that. Did… ooops. Yeah, I skipped that.” Well, no shit. But he’s long-gone to Blackstone and not coming back. So now it falls on me to do his work, sort everything out, and then go back. About this time, that same yardlette rolls by on a work train, and asks “Not done yet?” For real?

Anyway, it took a little doing but I switched out the yard (do I get paid for this? Where’s my union rep?) and then headed home. Night was falling – literally – as the clock dialed the lights down. In gathering twilight, I met Jeff (who’d also taken another run since I was the only crew out) and was running eastbound coal. We slipped around each other at Darby, a tight shave but I didn’t carry off any grab irons. It was full fledged night when I pulled into Ashbury, the only thing in that sea of moonlit rails. By instructions, I should have just left my train on the receiving track for the hostler and west yardman to put away. But Mr. Redacted and Mr. Yardlette were gas-bagging with the hosts in the other room. And Hostler Jeff was laboring his coal up the grade. So, why not. I’ve been a hostler AND a west end yardmaster before. So I hostled my engines to the roundhouse, then spotted my cars on the Huntington track with the yard goat. And after doing the jobs of three men (four if I count my own), I punched out for the night.

All my carping above is just for entertainment purposes. Overall, it was one of the best sessions I’ve been on in the WVN; everything ran early and sharp (especially when they left steps off their instructions). We finished the session well before 3pm, meaning I was tossed out of Jeff’s moving car to roll across my driveway just after 5pm. It was really quite a nice day, abandoned cuts and icy coffee not withstanding.

Thanks to the Komar’s for the wonderful session and tasty lunch!

>>>AND THANKS, IN ADVANCE, FOR GOING DOWN THIS LINK AND BUYING A BOOK!<<<

All photos Greg Komar, used without permission or payment. Yeah, I’m a cheapskate.