Another Faudi gig

Head-to-head at Tipton. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

Day One:
We are quietly driving south down Interstates 390 and 87 in our 2003 Honda CR-V.
We are on our way to The Mighty Curve, another short vacation from retirement.
We’d have used our Bucktooth Bathtub, but it’s making a noise.
I don’t think it’s serious, but what do I know?
The exhaust system on our CR-V is finally rattling apart.
It must be stainless steel — it’s original.
It too isn’t serious, so I felt I could trust it.
We are not far from the infamous Campbell (“KAMP-bell;” not the soup) Rest-Stop, our first widdle stop to The Mighty Curve.
We just got on the interstates at Bath.
All-of-a-sudden RING-RING-RING-RING!
It was Linda’s cellphone.
It’s her brother from Florida; he never calls.
“I have news,” he says. “Not the best.”
We thought it might be about his wife Nancy, who the day before endured ultrasound, which found an enlarged bladder.
“Mother is in the hospital, I think,” he said.
This is Linda’s 94-year-old mother, who lives on her own in a retirement center in the shadow of the mighty De Land water-tower.
“What do you mean ‘think?’” my wife asked.
“Well, it’s not via Mother,” her brother said. “It’s via a guy from the Salvation Army.”
Linda’s mother set up an annuity with the Salvation Army, with her getting interest until she dies, and then Linda’s brother.
She had met this guy to consummate the deal.
The guy then met Linda’s brother.
“How’s your mother?” the guy asked.
“Okay as far as I know,” her brother said.
“She’s in the hospital,” the guy responded.
“Do I turn around?” I asked. By then we were in the Campbell Rest-Stop.
“Why is it every time we head for Altoona, Mother ends up in the hospital?” my wife asked.
I was thinking of coming again in October when the leaves change. Do I dare?
“I don’t think she wanted us to know,” Linda’s brother said.
She can be that way.
But she had also forgot her phone list.
Her brother also dislikes her giving money to various charities.
But were it not for the Salvation Army we might not know about the hospital.
We continued on.
Linda got her mother in the hospital room.
By then we were in a gas-station in Gang Mills.
A tube had extracted vile green stuff from her intestines; she started feeling sick a few days ago.
As usual, suffer in silence.
She went to the hospital on the advice of a nurse service, but took a taxi.
No ambulance.
Waves of pain were washing over her, but do-or-die she was keeping that appointment with the Salvation Army.
In fact, the Salvation Army may have played a part in getting her to the hospital; she looked awful.
Our cellphones are getting plenty of use.
Linda’s battery gave out calling her brother later.
She had to use mine.
We were at Tunnel Inn five minutes, and a train blew past.

Photo by BobbaLew.

Tunnel Inn.

Tunnel Inn, in Gallitzin (“guh-LIT-zin”), PA, is the bed-and-breakfast we stay at in the Altoona area.
It used to be the old Gallitzin town offices and library.
It was built by Pennsy in 1905, and is brick and rather substantial.
It was converted to a bed-and-breakfast when Gallitzin built new town offices.
Its advantage for railfans like me — also its marketing ploy — is that it's right beside Tracks Two and Three.
It’s right next to the old Pennsy tunnels through the summit of the Alleghenies.
Trains are blowing past all the time.
Three is westbound, and Two can be either way. —Track One is not visible; it’s on the other side of town, using New Portage Tunnel. Tunnel Inn also has a covered viewing deck behind its building, plus floodlights to illuminate trains approaching or leaving the tunnels in the dark.
We went to The Mighty Curve about 4 p.m., but it closes at 6.
Up the 194 steps without drama.
Wasn’t sure I could, coming down from a cold.
A couple trains passed, including Amtrak’s westbound Pennsylvanian, on time.


Eastbound auto-racks toward New Portage Tunnel at Five Tracks. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

Day Two:
As usual, the whole idea of this journey is another Faudi (“FOW-dee;” as in “wow”) gig.
Faudi is the railfan extraordinaire from Altoona, PA, who supplies all-day train-chases for $125. —I did one two years ago, alone, and it blew my mind.
Faudi has his rail-scanner along, tuned to 160.8, the Norfolk Southern operating channel, and knows the whereabouts of every train, as the engineers call out the signals, and various lineside defect-detectors fire off.
He knows each train by symbol, and knows all the back-roads, and how long it takes to get to various photo locations — and also what makes a successful photo — lighting, drama, etc.
I let Phil do the monitoring. I have a scanner myself, but leave it behind.
Phil knows every train on the scanner, where it is, and how long it will take to beat it to a prime photo location.


Eastbound coal up Track One at Lilly. (Photo by BobbaLew.)


Westbound mixed freight down Track Three past eastbound coal up Track One at Lilly. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

Faudi has a new car, a used 2003 Buick LeSabre.
It replaced the 1993 Buick we chased so many trains in.
We don’t know if it will help him chase trains any.
He’s too enamored of it, and justifiably so.
We used to beat that previous car like a Jeep.
We took the new car up one weedy track Faudi had to stop on.
He feared scratching the paint — it’s a pretty car.
Last tour we went down some forest track closed in on all sides by brush.
I doubt we could do the same with the new car.
Most of our train-chasing was on highways and streets, not forest tracks.


Westbound Trash Train with too little power approaching McFarland’s Curve. That’s a GP38 leading. (Photo by BobbaLew.)


Eastbound camp cars down the siding at McFarland’s Curve. (That’s also a GP38 on the point.) —”You’re too close; it’ll be on the siding.” (Photo by BobbaLew.)

These train-chases are always wearing, although in my case not that wearing.
I managed to keep up fairly well.
Giant swooping U-turns would get executed on the main highway.
“Woops, we’ll miss this one if we don’t get back to where we were.”
Trains were coming willy-nilly.
We couldn’t get out of Lilly.
Then it was three times to McFarland’s Curve.
“Not there! It’s gonna be on that track.”
That was one the many doubles we saw; two trains at once.
One passing another approaching.
“Wanna keep going (4:30 p.m.)? The westbound Amtrak is coming.”
“Sure.”


Westbound double-stack on Track Three at Brickyard climbing toward The Curve. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

We checked out a place Phil long ago shot video at.
“There’s a ditch to cross,” I said. “I don’t think we can do it.”
It was all overgrown anyway, and would have involved a climb up a near-vertical embankment.


Six locomotives, two of which are a helper-set. A very heavy train. (Photo by BobbaLew.)


Two more helpers on the rear; the train is downhill, east on Track One. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

Some of the photo-locations seem rather moribund although I could be surprised.
We reconnoitered a glitzy footbridge in Bellwood over the tracks.
The tracks were straight, and the primary adventure involved the passing of a John Deere lawn tractor.
No steps, luckily. The footbridge also had long wheelchair ramps a lawn-tractor could negotiate.


Eastbound on Track One at Bellwood. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

My camera also threw a hissy-fit.
Its image-files get stored to a buffer which transfers to the memory-chip; the chip’s not fast enough.
If the buffer is full, it won’t shoot; that is, until the image-files get transferred to the chip.
The camera also has an internal clock that can imprint the image-file.
I have that turned off — I don’t want that silly date mucking up a picture.
But all that information gets stored along with the image-file, including what camera it was, aperture, shutter-speed, etc. The whole kibosh.
The clock gets driven by a battery, charged by the battery that drives the camera.


In your face at Slope Interlocking. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

That clock battery had died, which resets the clock to zero.
Our supposition is the buffer wouldn’t empty, because the clock needed to be reset.
We reset the clock.
No more flashing clock icon predicting Armageddon.
But still no shoot. That apparently came back later.
The buffer emptied, so I was back in business.
Same as before — this has happened before.
It involved a stop at Tunnel Inn, for a short battery recharge, and picking up the manual.
The clock got reset as we drove north. We had already lost a couple shots, but nothing important.


Westbound Amtrak Pennsylvanian approaches Altoona (about 5 p.m.). (Photo by BobbaLew.)

By McFarland’s Curve, about noon, we seemed back in business.
We had started about 8:30, and the camera threw its hissy-fit about 10:30.
I’d been shooting multiple shots, like motor-drive, and throwing out the bad.
But everything was so fast-and-furious at Lilly, I never got to weed.
My impression was the buffer maxxed at Lilly; too many image-files.
The poor thing needed time to write all that stuff to the chip.
Plus there’s the possibility it couldn’t because the clock needed to be reset.


Eastbound at Pinecroft on Track One. Track Two is to the train’s left, and the one to its right is a siding. It’s a two-track railroad here. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

Despite all that I managed to snag that fabulous image at the beginning of this blog.; two engines head-to-head in Tipton.
Pictures like that make this whole train-chasing thing worthwhile, worth every bit of the $125.
“Bam!” I shouted as I shot the picture.
One headed east (approaching), and a second headed west (passing).
Faudi was in ecstasy; a maximum double, and I got it.
“That’s a calendar shot,” I shouted.
It was the third of at least five doubles, maybe six.
“I need you to get stuff like this,” I told Faudi.

Day Three; back to reality!
.....Back to the wild bucking bronco ride of trying to wedge 89 bazilyun all-important errands and medical appointments amidst mowing our HUGE lawn, walking our dog, and working out in the Canandaigua YMCA Exercise-Gym.
It’s utter madness and frustrating; a rat-race.
When I get home I have three things I absolutely, positively have to do.
They are:
—1) Turn our tankless water-heater back on.
—2) Reset the house thermostat from “hold” back to “run program,” and
—3) Process our combination DVR/VCR so it can record the news, which it does on DVR.
Altogether these three things comprise 5-10 minutes, but if I forget anything.....
—1) I won’t have hot water.
—2) The house thermostat keeps holding at 78 degrees, and/or
—3) The DVR in the recorder is maxxed out, and can’t record the news
I didn’t pull the plug on our combi DVR/VCR, just the TV.
It recorded both days we were away.
Our previous DVR/VCR was flaky about recording anything if the plug had been pulled — my next science experiment is pulling the plug on our current combi.

Lessee..... Tomorrow, Sunday, August 8, 2010:
—1) Walk dog at Boughton (“BOW-tin;” as in “wow”) Park; about two to two-and-a-half hours.
—2) Shave, shower, eat breakfast; about two-and-a-half hours. —That includes feeding dog beforehand, and treats if she eats everything; about a half-hour of the two-and-a-half.
—3) Key as much of this monster in as I can while drinking coffee — maybe three hours. That includes processing all the pictures I wanna fly. I may have to minimize pictures; each is about 10 minutes.
—I have another monster almost all keyed in; I did a lot of it in Altoona. But it’s not fully written yet, and may have to wait.
—I have two other blogs I’d like to write, but they may get shunted aside.
As always, I’m up against how late can I stay awake?
—4) Mow Back 40, and southern wing; perhaps 3-4 hours. Both were put off before this trip, so absolutely, positively have to get done.
Thankfully, I have a mower that helps me.
It’s a zero-turn, so is fairly quick.
It’s mowing two segments in the time it took to previously mow one.

Okay, drag out monthly schedule for August.
Lessee, what about the coming week?
Fairly easy, just a haircut for me on Thursday.
That means I can work out at the YMCA Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.
Every YMCA day is also the grocery-store; largest visit on Monday.
Also any other errands in that direction.
That haircut scotches walking our dog on Thursday.
I have a 5K footrace on Saturday; first time in about two years.
I’m still running at age-66, albeit slowly.
Mowing lawn may not be possible; the weather may not cooperate.
And starting Monday I have a blizzard of phonecalls to make. A car needs tending, as do my teeth.

Notes:
—1) I used this here laptop with no problem at Tunnel Inn.
Tunnel Inn is a hot-spot.
I couldn’t log in last visit until just before we left.
Probably due to a defunct password; an earlier wireless router.
This time I just turned on the machine at Tunnel Inn, and I didn’t even get a log-in query.
“Try your Internet,” my wife said.
I did, and “There they all are,” my saved Internet tabs.
It didn’t even ask for a password; it must have memorized it.
—2) Can I chase trains without Faudi?
Trains are frequent enough on this line, so I probably could.
But there are lulls.
Our experiences at Lilly and McFarland’s Curve remind of an earlier experience by ourselves at Cassandra Railfan Overlook.
Every time we went to leave, my scanner would call out another approaching train.
We were stuck over two hours.
At that time all I understood was defect-detector broadcasts; 253.1 west of Lilly, and 258.9 at Portage. (Cassandra is in between.)
Faudi is also making sense out of the train-engineers calling out the signals. He knows where the signals are.
Which means he knows better to see trains; he doesn’t miss any.
I might get an hour wait, but with Faudi it’s 5-10 minutes.
Where we end up is not necessarily one of my favored photo-stops, but I’m not freezing in the cold.
—3) Along those lines, a favored photo-spot is Alto Tower.
But that’s a morning shot.
The shooting-window there is only a couple hours, plus it’s not near the other photo-locations.
To my mind, the only way to shoot Alto is to sit there a couple hours, and can anything else.
Which is Faudi-less, unless we’re in the area, and he knows of an approaching train.


Eastbound at Alto. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

We did this last visit — me and Faudi.
It was June and after sunset — the light was all wrong.
But it was light enough at 8:30 p.m. to make a shot (above).
The weather Saturday morning (Day Three) was fabulous; I coulda done an Alto morning gig.
But I was more interested in driving home, and getting our dog.
—4) On the way home we patronized the Wegmans in Williamsport, PA.
We usually do. We need milk and bananas.
Plus it avoids the Canandaigua Weggers, a more boring route up through Watkins Glen.
Plus there was a NASCAR race. I’m sure it woulda been a mess.
It’s our first contact with the world we know, although the Williamsport Weggers is different than Rochester area Wegmans.
Williamsport is the Little League Baseball capital of the world; the Little League World Series gets played there.
As such the order separators on the check-out belts are miniature baseball bats.
And the benches by the rest-rooms are made out of baseball bats.
Leaving the store, we followed a 200-pound hottie in short-shorts.
Her shorts were gigundo size. Each giant buttock was squarely encased, and waddled about four inches with each footfall.
“Ba-boom-ba, ba-boom-ba, ba-boom-ba,” I said.
Her flaccid calves were about the circumference of my thighs, and thigh-flesh drooped below her knees.
“At least my wife doesn’t look like that,” I said.
“Not yet,” my wife said; “and probably never will.”
The other night, there was the Bachelorette, looking chipper and cute.
“Well,” I said; “she’s sexy, but in my humble opinion what really matters is what’s between the ears.
Whaddya wanna bet she divorces the winner, and marries one of the guys she dumped.”

• RE: “That’s a calendar shot.........” —I’ve assembled many of my train-pictures from here into a calendar at Kodak Gallery.