Trains may or may not turn you on, but they could, depending on where you were born and into what family you grew up in. For some they may be a means of livelihood, for others a means of travel and convenience, or for others a hobby by which to relax, but for some not just a hobby but also a passion that will take them across the country and maybe even around the world.
It was the weekend when the Santa Fe steam locomotive 3751, which had recently been restored by the San Bernardino Railroad Historical Society, was making its first run from Los Angeles through Barstow to Bakersfield and back again. This was a historic event for any train aficionado who could arrange passage.
I was fortunate or otherwise, to be invited to go along on the only train chase of my life. Four of us took off one Saturday afternoon from Highland CA on our way to Bakersfield where we planned to spend the night in preparation for an early departure the following day.
When we arrived at the terminal the next morning, Engine 3751 was already puffing steam and chomping at the bit.
My son in law’s father, Ted, and his friend, had bought expensive tickets as far as Barstow on old 3751’s return trip to Los Angeles, along with several hundred other lucky enthusiasts. In the meantime Teddy, my son in law and his foster brother Preston and I jumped into Preston’s Ford Bronco and took off after Engine 3751 hoping to keep it in sight for the next four or five hours.
Now talk about scary. It seemed that we were not the only ones with the wild passion to end our existence on the sometimes-twisted highway paralleling the train tracks. Many of the train fanatics bend on their own destruction were determined to take as many innocents along with them as possible. One guy passed us standing up and videoing through his sunroof while driving his car. That wouldn’t have been so bad but some were driving two abreast while videoing, and forcing the oncoming cars to hit the shoulder.
It appeared quite soon to me that the intent of the next few hours was to get a view of the train from as many vantage points as possible just to make sure we hadn’t missed something during the previous go around. We would roar down the road as fast as fate would permit, all the while searching for a pull out that gave us a new view of old 3751 as it chugged into view, in the hope of seeing something we had missed the previous time. I will say by the time the morning had worn away I could recognize old 3751 in my sleep. To keep with the spirit however I continued to frantically video until we finally pulled into Barstow later that afternoon just ahead of old 3751.
I must say it was an exciting experience and my last shoot, shows old 3751 huffing and puffing as it chugged into the station where Ted and his friend disembarked.
That was my first train chase and probably the last, but it did give me a bigger view into the world of the train enthusiast and even though I do not have their zeal or passion for the sport, I did find my time spent in their world a fascinating experience.
Bird Cove Looking into Bay
Looking West into the Bay
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Saturday, July 16, 2011
112 “Holy Cow Grandpa, That Sure Stinks!”
Camping is always fun, but some of the best times are when you are with family. The joy of family, especially the grandkids is what really adds to the pleasure of the experience. We had talked our daughter Teri with her husband Teddy and their first child Meagan, to go camping with us. One of the many places that we liked to camp on Vancouver Island was the Bald Eagle Campsite just south of Chemainus on the Chemainus River.
For something to do that weekend we visited the Duncan Forestry Museum. We were having a good time riding the old Shay steam engine and looking at all of the old logging equipment. Meagan who was two at the time was too cute to believe when she came to the raised boardwalks. We were walking along when suddenly she stopped and would not take another step. For some reason it spooked her to step over the cracks between the boards. We all had a good laugh, but there was nothing we could do to get her to step across any space between the boards, no matter how hard we tried.
Meagan even as a baby was where the action was. She was not content to sit by herself, but had come over to watch Grandpa empty the holding tanks on his RV. Things were not going well for Grandpa and for some reason the hose became disconnected when emptying the black water tank. Well the proverbial poop was flying and I mean flying everywhere. Poor little Meagan was out of the way but not out of the smell and all she could say was, “Holy cow Grandpa, that sure stinks.” And I certainly had to agree with her.
Meagan always loved to sing even as baby and I will always remember the Christmas we spent in southern California with Meagan and her mommy and daddy. It was after the service and we were sitting in the large “University Church,” at Loma Linda University, waiting for Teddy to finish his duties as a deacon. Suddenly we head a small child singing. When we looked up there was three years old Meagan on the platform saying, “Hey guys listen to me! Hey guys listen to me!” And off she went singing “Itsy Bitsy Spider.” As if her heart depended upon it. After she had our attention of course.
Meagan loved “Knock Knock” jokes and would carry on endlessly with anyone that loved to humor her, and I happened to be that person. It didn’t matter what the joke was about or how corny it might be as long as it was in the “Knock Knock” format she would laugh effortlessly and immediately come up with one for me to finish. It didn’t matter to her which part she had to play in the scenario, and this would go on, not until she got tired, but until Grandpa finally weakened and quit.
I will never forget one of Meagan’s creative bents when she was still a kid, and I must say I was amazed at her ability to make things from nothing. What prompted her to come up with the idea I will never know but I was quite charmed by her friend a Mr. Stickly. Mr. Stickly was quite thin but never the less had all of the necessary body parts to function as her generic friend. He would show up most anytime and always appeared to fit right in with what was going on at the moment. It wasn’t until a number of years went by before he seemed to melt slowly into the background but still carry with dignity the role of the lesser friend that he is today. For a piece of wood 1 inch by 3 inches by 4 feet tall, Mr. Stickly carried it off remarkably well.
For something to do that weekend we visited the Duncan Forestry Museum. We were having a good time riding the old Shay steam engine and looking at all of the old logging equipment. Meagan who was two at the time was too cute to believe when she came to the raised boardwalks. We were walking along when suddenly she stopped and would not take another step. For some reason it spooked her to step over the cracks between the boards. We all had a good laugh, but there was nothing we could do to get her to step across any space between the boards, no matter how hard we tried.
Meagan even as a baby was where the action was. She was not content to sit by herself, but had come over to watch Grandpa empty the holding tanks on his RV. Things were not going well for Grandpa and for some reason the hose became disconnected when emptying the black water tank. Well the proverbial poop was flying and I mean flying everywhere. Poor little Meagan was out of the way but not out of the smell and all she could say was, “Holy cow Grandpa, that sure stinks.” And I certainly had to agree with her.
Meagan always loved to sing even as baby and I will always remember the Christmas we spent in southern California with Meagan and her mommy and daddy. It was after the service and we were sitting in the large “University Church,” at Loma Linda University, waiting for Teddy to finish his duties as a deacon. Suddenly we head a small child singing. When we looked up there was three years old Meagan on the platform saying, “Hey guys listen to me! Hey guys listen to me!” And off she went singing “Itsy Bitsy Spider.” As if her heart depended upon it. After she had our attention of course.
Meagan loved “Knock Knock” jokes and would carry on endlessly with anyone that loved to humor her, and I happened to be that person. It didn’t matter what the joke was about or how corny it might be as long as it was in the “Knock Knock” format she would laugh effortlessly and immediately come up with one for me to finish. It didn’t matter to her which part she had to play in the scenario, and this would go on, not until she got tired, but until Grandpa finally weakened and quit.
I will never forget one of Meagan’s creative bents when she was still a kid, and I must say I was amazed at her ability to make things from nothing. What prompted her to come up with the idea I will never know but I was quite charmed by her friend a Mr. Stickly. Mr. Stickly was quite thin but never the less had all of the necessary body parts to function as her generic friend. He would show up most anytime and always appeared to fit right in with what was going on at the moment. It wasn’t until a number of years went by before he seemed to melt slowly into the background but still carry with dignity the role of the lesser friend that he is today. For a piece of wood 1 inch by 3 inches by 4 feet tall, Mr. Stickly carried it off remarkably well.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
111 Hornby Island Here We Come
Hornby Island has to be one of the neatest islands in Georgia Straight and one of the greatest places to camp. We and many of our friends used to look forward to the 24th of May. This was the earliest weekend that the weather might cooperate and allow us to get out and cure the winter blues.
I remember out first camping experience with our friends on the island and the great time we had in just getting there. After the hour and a half drive to Buckley Bay the fun really began with a ferry ride to Denman. Once on Denman it was a mad scramble to the Hornby ferry terminal with the hope of maybe moving up in the ferry lineup, by either passing all the cars that you could as you crossed the island to the Hornby terminal or by using the short cut to circumvent the long traffic line.
I will say one thing about the ferry help; they would cram as many cars on the ferry as they could. I remember one time when my little tent trailer hung out over the water on the back end of the ferry, with it’s wheels still on the ramp when the ferry pulled out. I was somewhat relieved that the wheels actually landed on the ferry and not in the water as the ramp slowly pulled out from under its wheels.
Once on the island we headed to the Tribune Bay campsite and even though it was sometimes in disarray we liked the campsites and had a great time with all of our many friends. We used to gather all of our campers around in a grand circle and sit in a huge ring around a large roaring campfire known as the Betts’ fire. Compliment or otherwise it meant that no one was left out in the cold.
After everyone had gathered round we used to sing songs and then someone would present a spiritual lesson and have a prayer and ask God’s blessing and protection over our group. On Sabbath we always had a mini Sabbath School and a lesson study Sabbath morning. After that we would have a huge potluck as everyone hauled out that special dish they had prepared for the occasion.
Sabbath afternoon was a great time to take a nap, but a bunch of us would usually go for a walk along the sands of Tribune Bay. This has to be a great sand beach, especially along the east end of the bay with its sculptured sandstone.
We never left the island without visiting Helliwell Park and its amazing scenery and wildlife. The three-mile loop through the park was one of the most memorable experiences of the whole weekend. The walk takes a person past the sandstone bluff with their pelagic cormorants and the pungent smell of the guano painted cliffs along Tribune Bay. The wildflowers with their many colors leave you with a most memorable experience. Flores Islet off St. John’s Point, the south tip of the park, is home to sea lions and its waters are where the primitive and rare six-gilled shark lurks. Coming around the backside of the loop and just as you enter a magnificent old growth Douglas fir stand, is where you pass beneath the home of a bald eagle’s nest high in the top of a large Douglas fir tree, with the young eaglets eagerly waiting to be fed. What a treat.
I will always think back on the many May weekends that we enjoyed on Hornby and the great fun we had with our many friends and aquaintenances. All in all a most beautiful experience and one that I will always treasure.
I remember out first camping experience with our friends on the island and the great time we had in just getting there. After the hour and a half drive to Buckley Bay the fun really began with a ferry ride to Denman. Once on Denman it was a mad scramble to the Hornby ferry terminal with the hope of maybe moving up in the ferry lineup, by either passing all the cars that you could as you crossed the island to the Hornby terminal or by using the short cut to circumvent the long traffic line.
I will say one thing about the ferry help; they would cram as many cars on the ferry as they could. I remember one time when my little tent trailer hung out over the water on the back end of the ferry, with it’s wheels still on the ramp when the ferry pulled out. I was somewhat relieved that the wheels actually landed on the ferry and not in the water as the ramp slowly pulled out from under its wheels.
Once on the island we headed to the Tribune Bay campsite and even though it was sometimes in disarray we liked the campsites and had a great time with all of our many friends. We used to gather all of our campers around in a grand circle and sit in a huge ring around a large roaring campfire known as the Betts’ fire. Compliment or otherwise it meant that no one was left out in the cold.
After everyone had gathered round we used to sing songs and then someone would present a spiritual lesson and have a prayer and ask God’s blessing and protection over our group. On Sabbath we always had a mini Sabbath School and a lesson study Sabbath morning. After that we would have a huge potluck as everyone hauled out that special dish they had prepared for the occasion.
Sabbath afternoon was a great time to take a nap, but a bunch of us would usually go for a walk along the sands of Tribune Bay. This has to be a great sand beach, especially along the east end of the bay with its sculptured sandstone.
We never left the island without visiting Helliwell Park and its amazing scenery and wildlife. The three-mile loop through the park was one of the most memorable experiences of the whole weekend. The walk takes a person past the sandstone bluff with their pelagic cormorants and the pungent smell of the guano painted cliffs along Tribune Bay. The wildflowers with their many colors leave you with a most memorable experience. Flores Islet off St. John’s Point, the south tip of the park, is home to sea lions and its waters are where the primitive and rare six-gilled shark lurks. Coming around the backside of the loop and just as you enter a magnificent old growth Douglas fir stand, is where you pass beneath the home of a bald eagle’s nest high in the top of a large Douglas fir tree, with the young eaglets eagerly waiting to be fed. What a treat.
I will always think back on the many May weekends that we enjoyed on Hornby and the great fun we had with our many friends and aquaintenances. All in all a most beautiful experience and one that I will always treasure.
Monday, July 11, 2011
110 Flying High With Dan and Lou
The stress of raising a family, both its joys and heartaches soon turns into, “I can’t believe it happened so fast, and where did they go?” Unless of course the experience wasn’t what you hoped it would be and then it’s, “Whew am I glad its over.” With Sandy and I it was a grand experience and one that we enjoyed, maybe not handled well enough to do over again, but at least well enough to visit the kids far to often, at least from their perspective.
This meant visiting them for whatever excuse seemed reasonable and a birthday of course was a valid enough reason. Our son Bobby’s birthday fell wouldn’t you know it, on February 28 every year. It would have been better if it would have occurred at least occasionally in May or June as the weather was so much better for traveling that time of year.
This particular year we left to visit him in the middle of a big snow storm and even as we turned onto the highway from our house the little red ‘77 Civic couldn’t make the corner it was so slippery and we slid up, on, and over the divider in the middle of the road. Not a good omen for what was ahead.
After picking up our friends Dan and Lou Johnson we headed off into the snowstorm. Getting to the ferry for the trip to the main land was not a problem but it was snowing most of the way to Walla Walla where our kids were attending College.
Dan did not seem too worried until we had climbed up the west side of Snoqualmie Pass and were flying along on the hard packed snow after the summit. It was soon after this that I noticed that he had slowly moved his hands up until they were both white from grabbing the back of my seat and his face had the determined look of survival. Trying to assure Dan that by driving fast made it easier to stay on the snow packed road only seemed to increase his terror. What added more to the drama and Dan’s panic were the forty cars that we flew by in the ditch. Some were still spinning their wheels trying to get back on the road and one car had slid onto the guardrail and was waiting for a tow truck to lift it off. In the meantime Lou had dosed off into a sound sleep while waiting for our arrival in Walla Walla.
Just for the record, we had a lovely time visiting our children, at least from my perspective and I’m happy to say that our trip home turned out well with no accident or problems of any kind, but I will never know if that was because of, or in spite of Dan’s terror. The bible does say that, “the prayers of a righteous man availed much,” and I’m not going to comment on how righteous Dan may or may not be but I’m sure Dan was praying most of the way. I think we all were.
This meant visiting them for whatever excuse seemed reasonable and a birthday of course was a valid enough reason. Our son Bobby’s birthday fell wouldn’t you know it, on February 28 every year. It would have been better if it would have occurred at least occasionally in May or June as the weather was so much better for traveling that time of year.
This particular year we left to visit him in the middle of a big snow storm and even as we turned onto the highway from our house the little red ‘77 Civic couldn’t make the corner it was so slippery and we slid up, on, and over the divider in the middle of the road. Not a good omen for what was ahead.
After picking up our friends Dan and Lou Johnson we headed off into the snowstorm. Getting to the ferry for the trip to the main land was not a problem but it was snowing most of the way to Walla Walla where our kids were attending College.
Dan did not seem too worried until we had climbed up the west side of Snoqualmie Pass and were flying along on the hard packed snow after the summit. It was soon after this that I noticed that he had slowly moved his hands up until they were both white from grabbing the back of my seat and his face had the determined look of survival. Trying to assure Dan that by driving fast made it easier to stay on the snow packed road only seemed to increase his terror. What added more to the drama and Dan’s panic were the forty cars that we flew by in the ditch. Some were still spinning their wheels trying to get back on the road and one car had slid onto the guardrail and was waiting for a tow truck to lift it off. In the meantime Lou had dosed off into a sound sleep while waiting for our arrival in Walla Walla.
Just for the record, we had a lovely time visiting our children, at least from my perspective and I’m happy to say that our trip home turned out well with no accident or problems of any kind, but I will never know if that was because of, or in spite of Dan’s terror. The bible does say that, “the prayers of a righteous man availed much,” and I’m not going to comment on how righteous Dan may or may not be but I’m sure Dan was praying most of the way. I think we all were.
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Bird Cove
Looking East from House