The Mighty Curve

One up; Amtrak down. (Looks like the Genesis tanked.) (Photo by the so-called “old guy” with the dreaded and utterly reprehensible Nikon D100.)

Monday, June 2, 2008: Here we are at the mighty Curve, first time in months, despite it being fabulous and by far the BEST railfan spot I have ever been to.
In fact, had it not been for the death of our beloved dog, we might not have been able to visit the Curve this year.
A number of sorry and difficult circumstances have got in the way.
First was my wife’s cancer, lymphoma, evident as a fairly large tumor in her abdomen last August, our second or third visit to the Curve last year.
Usually I try to visit once a month in season, but due to her cancer, August was our final visit.
We sprung into action.
Wilmot Cancer Center in Rochester began administering chemo, and poof, her cancer disappeared.
As did her hair.
So now her cancer is in remission and her hair is growing back.
Our dog was not so lucky.
Evidence of his lymphoma appeared about two months ago, swollen lymph-nodes in his neck.
We sprung into action there too, starting a chemo regimen for our dog.
But no poof.
Some shrinkage, but lymphocytes were still in his blood.
He started to fag out.
Some of it might have been the chemo, but some of it may have been cancer.
Finally he was so wiped out he seemed ready for the Big Sleep.
We pulled the plug May 22 ; a sad affair — best dog I ever had.
So now we are dogless, and can hit the mighty Curve.
We drove here in the CR-V. Last August was to be its last time to the mighty Curve, but trade-in has been put off by the cancers.
Along with many other things.
Like getting another dog.
That will wait until we return, perhaps until even after another visit in July.
We always disliked putting a dog in the slammer just so we could hit the Curve.
The trip down was uneventful; no mistakes.
Earlier trips had a mistake or two. Nothing major; no off-road excursions.
Usually just drifting across the double-yellow line which has a rumble-strip cut into it.
And once allowing myself to be distracted by a roadside display advertising sign next to the Interstate.
I had to suddenly correct my approach to a curve; at 70 mph.
It seems my being a stroke-survivor compromises my concentration occasionally.
But not this time. The stroke was almost 15 years ago.
It appears the expressway north of 350 is complete and in service.
It’s been under construction for years. The I-99 expressway was in service from Pa. State Route 350 south past Altoona, and it was much better than the old State Route 764 we used many years ago.
But north of 350 it was still the original U.S. Route 220 two-lane.
Expressway has been built from I-80 south, but still fed into the old U.S. Route 322 crossing of Bald Eagle Mountain.
New expressway was being built next to 322 the last time I drove that way, but I decided it wasn’t worth going that way as long as it still fed into 322.
So we continued to use the two-lane.
So here I am bopping south on the ancient U.S.-220 two-lane, now Alternate-220 — “maintain two-dot minimum following distance; beware of aggressive drivers; targeted enforcement area” — and I angle into Port Matilda (Port for what? Where’s the ocean?), where 322 used to turn right (west).
I see signs also to the right for I-99; usually I continue straight south to 350.
“Well okay; if you say so,” I say.
I turn right, and quickly the new expressway appears.
The expressway leaps the entire Bald Eagle valley, including the old two-lane, and the old Pennsy Bald Eagle branch, now a shortline (Nittany & Bald Eagle) — and soon we are up on the western face of Bald Eagle Mountain.
There’s the old refrigerator-dump far below, a waymarker along the two-lane.
I’ll try it going back — this may have been our final use of the mighty Milesburg Exit.
This visit will be like previous visits; a one-day surgical strike. Down Monday, all day at the Curve and then Cassandra Railfan Overlook on Tuesday, and then back on Wednesday.
We are staying at the Tunnel Inn Bed & Breakfast, right on top of the old Pennsy main at the tunnels atop the Alleghenies.
Tunnel Inn is the old Gallitzin Library and Town Offices, built by Pennsy in 1905.
New town offices/library were built across the tracks, and the old building abandoned.
The building was bought by a confirmed railfan, and he had to sandblast all the paint off the original brick.
The building was remodeled inside into a bed & breakfast, its angle being “Only the engineer is closer to the train.”
We were able to start earlier; 9 a.m. instead of 10, not boarding a dog (or dogs).
We arrived in Altoony about 2, so went directly to the Curve; can’t check in at Tunnel Inn until after 3. (Tunnel Inn is 5-7 miles from the Curve.)
“I don’t know why they didn’t tunnel under some of these mountains,” declared Gramps loudly in the Curve viewing-area.
“Well, it was built in 1854,” I said. “They didn’t have modern-day construction equipment back then.”
“Shoulda built it like Copper Canyon in Mexico; that line took 40 years to complete.”
“Well, this line didn’t take no 40 years. In fact, I doubt it took 10 years,” I said. “Maybe even less than five.”
“It’s worth riding, if ya can,” I added.
“Don’t they run railfan excursions?” Gramps asked. “Seems they oughta be able to run railfan excursions, just like Strasburg. There they even have Thomas the Tank-Engine.” (Although apparently “Thomas the Tank Engine” is just visiting — see Strasburg site.)
“Well, this is a working railroad,” I said. “It sure ain’t no Strasburg.”
“The sign says 60 trains per day,” Gramps exclaimed.
“That sign’s outta date,” I said; “at least 20 years ago.”
“That sign’s from back when Conrail operated it. Now I bet it’s 80 trains or more per day.”

Westbound around the Curve and up The Hill. (Photo by the so-called “old guy” with the dreaded and utterly reprehensible Nikon D100.)

This surgical-strike will include all the usual eating establishments: -1) the infamous spaghetti-joint (Lena’s — “the best Italian restaurant in Altoona”) on Monday night; -2) pancakes at Perkins Tuesday morning; and -3) a Philly cheese-steak sandwich at Cresson Springs Family Restaurant on the way back from Cassandra Railfan Overlook.
Adventures at Lena’s — the infamous spaghetti-joint.
“Waitress, what’s this $1.25 on my check?” snapped 250-pound scowling Granny.
“Oh, that’s your coffee, hon.”
“Well, you better get a-hoppin’ with that there pencil, deary!” Granny snapped. (I don’t think anything was changed.)
Granny began struggling to get out of her chair, and grimacing angrily extended her flabby arm at 250-pound daughter, who also had to struggle to get out of her chair.
Together they had consumed enough to feed a family of eight in Bangladesh.
Granny stumbled into her walker, snarling slowly toward the door, angrily cursing the restaurant-help under her breath.
I had to use the restroom before leaving, and as I headed out a little old man was at curbside struggling to get out of his passenger-seat into his walker.
Took him at least 10 minutes.
“Boy-oh-boy,” I said to Linda. “I sure hope I never get that crippled.”
“Which is why we gotta keep moving,” Linda said.
At long last I finally have the exact global coordinates for the mighty Curve, and they are Lat N 40° 29’ 52.5”; Lon W 78° 29’ 8.6”.
My cellphone has a GPS service installed as an option. I got it because I was told it could get the coordinates of where it is.
I also have a GPS from Radio-Shack.
All I ever wanted it to do was render the coordinates for where I was standing, but since my cellphone will do that, the Radio-Shack GPS stays in the closet.
Like all gizmos, getting the coordinates out of the cellphone was a challenge.
I paged through the manual for about 10 minutes; index, FAQs, the whole stinkin’ kabosh.
I finally gave up and tossed it aside. The old waazoo; the way I’ve figured out almost every gizmo. No manual. (“Get outta here with that manual! Real men don’t need manuals!”)
Just enter and see what happens.
First I fired up VZ-Navigator — I think my option is wireless Internet via the satellite, and VZ-Navigator is a site.
Okay, I have no idea what this silly globe icon is, but enter, and see what happens.
“WHOA! ‘Get map of location’ is an option.”
Wham-bam — downloading map.
Seconds pass; about 10.
“WHOA again! There we are; Glenwhite Road.”
I try the Option soft-key.
Again, “WHOA! ‘Location-info’ is an option.”
There it is: Glenwhite Road, Altoony, Pa., Lat N 40° 29’ 52.5”; Lon W 78° 29’ 8.6”.
I tried it again: Glenwhite Road, Lat N 40° 29’ 52.5”; Lon W 78° 29’ 8.6”.
I tried it again at Tunnel Inn in Gallitzin: Lat N 40° 28’ 53.4”; Lon W 78° 33’ 1.1”.
I could do this anywhere; just stand outside and get the coordinates.
At last my MyCast weather-site can have the exact coordinates for each location (the “mighty Curve” is a location), although they’re rounded off.
Not that it matters that much.
My weather-radar is surveying a 170-mile wide area.
But coordinates are better than ballparking by eye.
And as always, I did it without the manual. That manual was no help at all; no VZ-Navigator information at all.
VZ-Navigator had a Help, but that was no help either.
Just the old guile-and-cunning. Ain’t rocket-science.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
—A) So here we are quietly eating our breakfast muffins on the raised back observation-deck of Tunnel Inn.
It’s raining a little, but the deck has a roof, so we’re sheltered from the rain.
Below is our CR-V parked next to a dark-green Oldsmobile so-called soccer-mom minivan that arrived last night with a nice couple from Ohio.
Below that are Tracks Two and Three of the Norfolk Southern east-west main in the old Pennsy tunnel-cut.
The original Pennsy tunnel had to be enlarged to clear double-stacks — it was also enlarged for two tracks (Three and Two).
The adjacent Pennsy Gallitzin tunnel (built in 1912) was abandoned, although reportedly it still has track in it, in case Allegheny is ever blocked.
But it won’t clear double-stacks. That tunnel was originally Track Three — Allegheny had Track Two; only one track, although quite wide (originally two tracks, in the 1850s).
Track One is in the old Portage Tunnel across town, built long ago as an improvement of the original Pennsylvania state combined canal-system and portage railroad (the vaunted Public Works). Pennsy, a private company, got the Public Works system (the canal and portage railroad) when the state gave up. —Portage Tunnel was incorporated into Pennsy’s Allegheny crossing, although Portage is higher than the other tunnels, and requires steeper grades to ramp it back down to Tracks Two and Three.
A westbound general-freight emerges from Allegheny and rumbles by below — two Dash-9 40Cs on the point, still throbbing because it’s dragging its train up the grade.
The train is long and probably heavy; many coil-cars.
Two SD40-2 helpers are shoving on the rear, roaring at the heavens.
Here they come.
Suddenly “pramp-pramp-pramp-pramp!” The so-called soccer-mom minivan is sounding its alarm-horn.
SD40-2s passed, the minivan stops blowing its horn.
“Must be it was saying hello,” Linda says.
Right about then the owners appeared.
“Them pushers tripped your alarm-horn,” I said. “Was that doing that all night with every passing train?”
The owners were very embarrassed.
“Was that thing keeping you awake all night?”
“Nope; first we heard it,” I said.
“Well, we heard it a couple times. Them pushers must have radar or something.”
This shows why I avoid auto-alarms. Get too close with a shopping-cart, and all Hell breaks loose.
—B) Quite a bit of the I-99 expressway is finished, but still not across the summit of Bald Eagle Mountain.
But it’s almost finished — essentially just needs to be opened. I’ll probably go that way from now on.
I tried it, and still got fed into 322 at mountain-top. There also was an area where the cut-facing may have washed out. It appeared to have slumped onto the pavement, and we were driving around it.
And as I recall, some cut material was toxic, and had to be specially disposed of.
But it looks like it will open in a month or two.
—C) On a number of occasions we passed phenomena that begged explanation:
-1) First was a wire or pipe or something suspended on the roadside utility poles, that appeared to be spewing mist or smoke out of nozzles.
“What’s that?” Linda asked. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
“Ask Jack,” I said. “He knows everything.”
-2) Climbing a short grade we went into a dense cloud of thick black smoke.
It appeared to be diesel-smoke, as if left by a truck.
“Now what’s this?” Linda asked.
“Ask Jack,” I answered; “the self-proclaimed knower of all things.”
We eventually passed a trailer-less diesel truck-tractor that was running rich.
—D) In order to avoid driving out of our way to hit the Canandaigua Weggers, which is always kind of a pain, we patronized the mighty Williamsport Weggers during our return, which we pass.
Rochester-based Wegmans, extremely successful at marketing the classiest act in grocery supermarkets, has expanded down into Pennsylvania, and even Jersey and next to Dulles Airport in Virginny.
I bought bananas and milk; what I would have bought at the Canandaigua Weggers anyway.
I angled our sissy-cart into an Express Lane, presented my “Shoppers Club” key-tag, and an unused bottle-exchange receipt from the Canandaigua Weggers.
“What’s this?” the clerk asked, fingering the bottle-exchange receipt. “Never seen one of these before.”
“It’s only 10¢,” I said. “We’ll exchange it at the Canandaigua store when we get back home.”
Perhaps Pennsylvania doesn’t do container-deposit; although I think they do.
We certainly saw enough smoky funeral-pyres of burning brush.
“Must be they allow open burning in Pennsylvania,” Linda observed.
My blowhard brother-in-Boston had a comment on that.
“They’d never allow that in Massachusetts,” he once bellowed.
“In Massachusetts ya gotta file an environmental impact statement to cut a fart.”
—E) We picked up Killian’s ashes at the nearby Honeoye Falls Veterinary on the way home.
“Goin’ home, Little Monkey,” I said. “Last time.”
Killian loved home more than anything.
We’d bring him home from boarding, and he’d run all over the house like a loose cannon, checking out all the rooms.
Then he’d dash out back like a bolt of lightning to check out our back yard.
“I’m home! I’m home! Yippee!”
We think what Killian liked more than anything was that we had given him a home — an end to getting shoved from here-to-there.
We distributed the ashes of previous dogs to places they liked. Casey’s got sprayed in Cobbs Hill Park where she caught her first squirrel. Tracy’s got sprayed in our south wing, where she always sniffed for critters.
Sabrina’s got put into a wet spot in Boughton Park where she used to hunt toads (she hunted toads more than anything).
But Killian will get buried intact here at home; since home was what he liked most.

Reflections:
—A) I suppose the passing of my dog is tempering my enthusiasm for this visit somewhat.
Although we’ve visited so many times, it’s become old hat.
Earlier visits were distracted by boarding our dog (or dogs), which to him (them) was jail.
Still, I’ve been a railfan all my life, and Horseshoe Curve is by far the BEST railfan spot I’ve ever visited — and I’ve visited many.
The reason is the long-gone Pennsylvania Railroad, ever flush with gobs of money from moving all that west-east traffic (witness the original Gallitzin town offices/Library, built long ago by Pennsy), didn’t just cut through the face of Kittanning Mountain at its point. They leveled off the adjacent area, to make a viewing area smack in the apex of Horseshoe Curve.
And any more the railroad is so busy you wait a few minutes (usually no more than 20), and a train passes. Often two at a time; or sometimes three (every track in use — it previously had four).
Plus it’s a grade; 1.8% — so climbing the engines are wide open; assaulting the heavens. Stand in the apex and you can see the grade — the south calk is much higher than the north calk.
—B) I feel slightly less agile than last visit — probably a result of having to back off some at the YMCA due to back-problems.
But I’m still able to do the steps without stopping (194), and still able to run. It seems I have bad days and good — and our visit to the mighty Curve was a bad time.
Not that bad for age-64. Beat a younger pup up the stairs; he stopped.

The “mighty Curve” (Horseshoe Curve), west of Altoona (“Altoony”), Pennsylvania, is by far the BEST railfan spot I have ever been to. Horseshoe Curve is a national historic site. It was a trick used by the Pennsylvania Railroad to get over the Allegheny mountains without steep grades. Horseshoe Curve was opened in 1854, and is still in use. (I am a railfan, and have been since I was a child.) —Horseshoe Curve has a web-cam, but it’s awful.

RE: “‘Old guy’ with the dreaded and utterly reprehensible Nikon D100.......” —My macho, blowhard brother-from-Boston, who is 13 years younger than me, calls me “the old guy” as a put-down (I also am the oldest). I also am loudly excoriated by all my siblings for preferring a professional camera (like the Nikon D100) instead of a point-and-shoot. This is because I long ago sold photos to nationally published magazines.

RE: “Looks like the Genesis tanked.....” —Amtrak uses a diesel-electric locomotive made by General-Electric that GE calls its “Genesis” Series. Looking at the picture, it appears the entire train (only the nose of the Genesis-unit is visible) is being pulled by a Norfolk Southern diesel — i.e. the Genesis has failed.

Our dog was “Killian;” a rescue Irish-Setter. He had lymphatic cancer, and didn’t survive. —He was over 10; we never knew his birthdate. I used to call him “Little Monkey.”

My wife of 40+ years is “Linda.” She also had cancer, but survives.

“The CR-V” is our 2003 Honda CR-V SUV.

I had a stroke October 26, 1993.

RE: “Maintain two-dot minimum following distance......” —The highway department had elongated dots painted on the highway surface, to delineate following distance. I usually did 2&1/2 to 3 at that speed, which was about 55-60 mph.

The “refrigerator-dump” was a large roadside dump for old kitchen appliances and cars.

RE: “The mighty Milesburg Exit......” —The Milesburg exit is an exit off Interstate-80 far north of Altoona. I get off I-80 back toward Altoona at the Milesburg exit, and have done so for years. A few years ago my macho, loudmouthed brother-from-Boston (“Jack”), the ad-hominem king, who noisily badmouths everything I do or say, and I rode our motorbikes to Horseshoe Curve, and used the route I’ve taken in the past, which includes the Milesburg Exit. He disagreed, and claiming I was stupid loudly declared we used an earlier exit. I’ve been trying to tell him ever since we used the route I had previously used, which uses the Milesburg Exit. “Mighty Milesburg Exit” is a fillip my brother-in-Delaware added.

“Cassandra Railfan Overlook” is an abandoned iron highway overpass over the Pennsy main in the town of Cassandra, about 15+ miles from Horseshoe Curve. Railfans started congregating there, so the locals made it the Cassandra Railfan Overlook. It has tables and benches. A You-Tube video at Cassandra is http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yt15WcTn3_Q

“Copper Canyon” in Mexico is a railroad built through Copper Canyon; very mountainous and a continuous strenuous climb. Many short tunnels, and very difficult to operate. It has become a railfan tourist destination.

Strasburg is Strasburg Railroad, a small tourist railroad in southeastern Pennsylvania. It runs steam locomotive operated excursions for railfans and their families. It’s mainly oriented towards children. We have ridden it, but it only does about 10-15 mph over 3-4 miles of track; out in the middle of vacant Pennsylvania-Dutch country. I’ve ridden better.

“So-called soccer-mom minivan” is a put-down rendered by my blowhard brother-in-Boston of our 1993 Chevrolet Astrovan, since traded.

Horseshoe Curve was built by the Pennsylvania Railroad, which merged in 1968 with rival New York Central to form Penn-Central. That eventually went bankrupt, as did almost all northeast railroads, which were merged into “Conrail,” at first a government funded railroad, but eventually it went public. Conrail was sold and broken up a few years ago; CSX Transportation bought most of the ex-NYC lines, and Norfolk Southern Railroad bought most of the ex-PRR lines. So Horseshoe Curve has been operated by PRR, Penn-Central, Conrail, and now Norfolk Southern.

General Electric makes a railroad freight diesel-electric locomotive called the “Dash-9 40C;” “40” meaning 4,000 horsepower, “C” meaning a six-wheel truck (three axles; three traction-motors per truck).

“Coil-cars” are special railroad flat-cars made to carry coiled rolls of sheet steel. The cars have covers to protect the steel coils from rain.

“SD40-2” is a railroad diesel-electric locomotive made by General Motors’ ElectroMotive Division (EMD) in the late ‘70s; “Dash-2” meaning Dash-2 (and more up-to-date) solid-state electronics. “SD” is the six-axle iteration (three traction-motors per truck); and is a six-axle variation of the GP40. The railroad uses double-units of SD40-2s as helper-units to help climb, or descend, the grade. If a train is heavy enough, it needs helpers to help climb the grade; often two in the rear, or sometimes four; and/or two added to the front. An SD40 can be identified because it is the smaller SD-40 carbody (a V16 engine) on the larger SD45 frame (a V20 engine). As such it has a large open area known as “the porch.”

“Jack” is my loudmouthed macho brother-from-Boston (Jack Hughes). He noisily badmouths everything I do or say.

“Weggers” (“Mighty Weggers”) is Wegmans, a large supermarket-chain based in Rochester we often buy groceries at.

Wegmans has a small grocery-cart, which only holds what groceries a daily shopper might buy. Since it isn’t large enough to hold a week’s groceries, my siblings refer to it as a “sissy-cart;” un-Christian.

Nearby “Boughton (‘BOW-tin’) Park” is where I run and we walked our dogs.

A “1.8%” grade is 1.8 feet up for every 100 feet forward; not that steep, but fairly steep. I’ve seen railroad grades in California of 2 to 2.5 percent. Get up to four percent, and you’re limiting -1) the ability of the locomotive to maintain a grip on the railhead, and -2) train-weight. A steeper grade severely limits train-weight. Diesel-locomotive powered freight-trains were better at handling grades, because of constant low-speed torque put out by traction-motors. Side-rod steam locomotives (the usual practice) weren’t constant torque; it varied according to piston-thrust. A side-rod steam locomotive was more likely to break adhesion on a grade. Side-rod steamers were limited by this. Diesel locomotives allowed longer train-length = increased weight. Most highway grades are 6% or more; Interstate around 6%.

I work out at the Canandaigua YMCA exercise-gym.