“You’re gonna hafta run, Bob”

“You’ll hafta run, Bob.” (Photo by BobbaLew.)

Another trip to the Mighty Curve near Altoona, PA (“al-TUNE-uh;” as in the name “Al”), by far the BEST railfan spot I have ever been to.
But it may be a trip to the Mighty Curve without the Mighty Curve.
We’ll get here about 4 p.m. Add a half-hour to check in at Tunnel Inn Bed & Breakfast, and we’d get to the Curve about 4:30-4:45; just short of closing-time.
And by that time in October it’s starting to get dark.
The Curve is a great railfan spot, scenic and loaded with close-up action. You’re right smack in the apex of the Curve, and trains are fairly frequent.
Wait 20 minutes and you’ll see a train.
But it’s not very photogenic.
I’ve taken hundreds of photos there, and hardly any ever worked.
Photography never does the place justice — you hafta see it yourself — a giant amphitheater.
It was a trick by the Pennsylvania Railroad to cross the Allegheny mountain barrier without steep grades.
The railroad was looped back across a valley to stretch it out.
It’s the same alignment laid out in 1854, although now it’s Norfolk Southern. Pennsy is gone.
It’s now a national historic site.
In 1854 Allegheny Crossing was an engineering marvel.
And since it’s a hill, anything climbing is wide-open; assaulting the heavens!
All you do is sit at the picnic-tables and wait for trains.
I’ve done it so much it’s become boring.
There are so many other spots worth visiting.
All (almost all) were introduced by Phil Faudi (”FOW-dee;” as in “wow”).
Faudi was the railfan extraordinaire from Altoona, who supplied all-day train-chases for $125. —I did one two years ago, alone, and it blew my mind.
Faudi had his rail-scanner along, tuned to 160.8, the Norfolk Southern operating channel, and knew the whereabouts of every train, as the engineers called out the signals, and various lineside defect-detectors fired off.
He knew each train by symbol, and knew all the back-roads, and how long it took to get to various photo locations — and also what made a successful photo — lighting, drama, etc.
I let Phil do the monitoring. I have a scanner myself, but left it behind.
Phil knew every train on the scanner, where it was, and how long it took to beat it to a prime photo location.
It’s gotten so these trips have to be wedged in.
Pick a time about two months in advance, and from then on say Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday of that week we’ll be out of town, so we can’t do anything those days; e.g. medical appointments.
The YMCA Exercise-Gym is Monday, Wednesday and Friday, so the Mighty Curve can scotch one day.
I already did the YMCA Monday. I’ll see if I can do it Friday after we return.
Saturday a guy is coming to install ceiling fans and outdoor fixtures.
We also have to find time to walk our beloved dog.
Mornings are two-three hours, afternoons are 45 minutes, and the last about 15-20 minutes.
She’s a very high-energy dog. We’re committed to giving her a good time.
The morning walk is in a nearby park, the second walk is up-the-street and our fenced part, and the last walk is just our fenced part.
Therein she’s loose.
I also have to mow our HUGE lawn.
I mowed everything else, but ran out of time.
I hope it can wait until Saturday.
The whole idea of this trip was to get fall foliage pictures, but it looks like we’re too early.
Some trees are turned, but everything is still pretty green.
I guess ya hafta live here to get good fall foliage pictures.
Picking dates two months in advance is a gamble.
264 miles, portal-to-portal. (Garage to Tunnel Inn.)
Perhaps a half-mile of that was a short detour circumventing a closed on-ramp in Williamsport from Route 15 to 220.
Five hours.
We drove in our CR-V, now seven years old.
No problems; seven years old, but as recently deceased Art Dana (“DAY-nuh”) said, “looks like new.”
Art was the retired bus-driver from Regional Transit with fairly severe Parkinson's disease.
For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service (RTS), the public transit-bus operator in Rochester, NY. My stroke October 26, 1993 ended that.
Art's wife was gone, so he lived with his sister in Pittsford. He was 69.
Art and I had similar interests, hot-rod cars and trains.


Train 25Z climbs Track 3 at Slope Interlocking. (Photo by BobbaLew)

Day Two:
So ends another Faudi train-chase, our last, because Faudi is gonna give it up.
His reasons are:
—A) His car, a newish and very nice Buick, which he doesn’t beat like his old Buick, which limits some of our photo locations, which are on dirt-tracks.
—B) His exposure to possible liability suits.
Recently a lady fell or something, and nothing came of it, but it made him worry.
Chasing trains also involves ramming around in your car prompting adventurous maneuvers of incredible daring-do.
Faudi is sensible, but various traffic situations make him nervous.
It was what I dealt with driving bus, trying to maintain a schedule despite all the madness around you.
People cutting you off, and trying to beat the bus.
“Oh look Dora. A bus. Pull out! Pull out!”
Throw in trying to see every possible train, and driving becomes a rat-race.
Faudi is the same age as us.
You can’t drive at that fever-pitch all the time.
Plus his Adventure-Tours had become too much a business.


Two SD40E helper-units lead a train down past Alto Tower. (Photo by BobbaLew)

“I just almost got hit,” he said.
He had left us on 17th St. bridge in Altoona to take a photo with Alto (“al-TOE;” as in the name “Al”) Tower in it.
He had gone to a nearby McDonald's for a potty-break.
We were walking down off the bridge, and no Faudi.
Yet here he comes up 17th St.
“I saw you guys walking back, so I hurried to make my turn. and almost got clobbered,” he said.
“Ya don’t need to, Phil,” we said.
“These are the things that make me nervous,” he said.
Fall foliage was out-the-window — we were too early.
So a simple train-chase.
“You’ll hafta run, Bob,” he said, as we pulled into Bellwood, a photo-location on a footbridge.
I’m not Lance Armstrong, but I got it (lead picture).
I had indeed run — I still can.
The train was in sight as I ran onto the bridge.
Everything we shot was north (railroad east) of Altoona, not Allegheny Crossing.
Okay with me; north of Altoona are some of the best locations.
E.g. Plummer’s Crossing, east of Tyrone.
But that’s a westbound — no westbounds coming.
Also, “Six Targets,” one of my most photogenic locations.


Train 14G (monstrously late on the siding) comes under the six target-signals in McFarland’s Curve. (Photo by BobbaLew)

“I hafta be able to find this place,” I said.
It’s up a short dirt-track off the old Route 220.
Our Adventure-Tour had diverted into finding various photo-locations on-my-own.
E.g. “Six Targets” and Slope Interlocking.


Helper-units downhill at Slope Interlocking. (Photo by BobbaLew)

Almost all of the photo locations are doable.
The west side of Allegheny Crossing I already know fairly well.
Plus the only location extraordinarily worth doing on the west slope, the Viaduct Overlook, gobbles over an hour.
North of Altoona is fairly productive; about five-six locations.
And west of Allegheny summit would probably have been drenching rain. It’s up in the hills.
North of Altoona was dry.


A coal-extra approaching the Tipton grade-crossing. (Photo by BobbaLew)

Most of what I hear on the scanner any more makes fairly good sense.
What I know is defect-detectors — where they are.
What I need to know, which Phil knows, are -a) the location of signal-towers, and -b) train symbols.
The engineers of trains call out signal-aspects on radio as a train approaches.
Which is how Phil knows a train is coming, and where it is.
The engineers also say what track they are on, as do the defect-detectors.
Phil also knows what scheduled trains are coming, and when (if on time).
With all that in my head, I could successfully chase trains in Altoona.
Phil was a good teacher.
But I still doubt my wait-times would be as short as his.


Train 14G (again) approaches Slope Interlocking on Track One. (Photo by BobbaLew)

His knowledge is reflected in the success we have, but in my case it’s coming.
I can usually make sense of what I hear on the scanner, and I more-or-less know where things are.
I didn’t before.
Waiting out in the cold a long time for nothing is less likely, and I could probably chase trains myself fairly successfully.
He also mentioned Cassandra Railfan Overlook is doomed.
A piece of concrete fell off the ancient overpass and damaged a locomotive.
The caretaker can’t afford to repair the bridge, so the railroad wants to remove it.
A tragedy.
Cassandra Railfan Overlook was a wonderfully shady spot to watch trains.
And it was between two defect-detectors.
But to get to it, ya need that bridge.


RoadRailer west through downtown Altoona. (Photo by BobbaLew)

So here I am, on-my-own.
Can I match Faudi?
I think not.
But I’ve learned a lot, and will do better.
I advanced quite a bit when I figured out where the defect-detectors were, and which track was which.
Add the signal-locations, and we’ll do much better.
I also know the photo-locations, but can we beat that train we just heard to a certain location, or should we try further up the line?
Doing so might add 10-15 minutes to a wait-time, or miss the train altogether.
Not that I care that much, but I would like to do better.
What’s ironic is I know Norfolk Southern’s Allegheny Crossing near Altoona better than the CSX Water-Level near where we live.
There I have no clue at all. —No Faudi; start from scratch.
Faudi said this was my sixth train-chase; I guessed fifth.
We wish him well; he will be missed. —And I’m sure I’m not the only one.

Day Three; back to reality.
But not without exploring first.
Can I find Six-Targets, and Slope, and 6th Ave. north out of Altoona?
Slope was a slam-dunk.
I happened to drive Walnut St. after 31st St., which as it approached downtown Altoona going north turns west right over that bridge over Slope Interlocking.
31st St. I know. I use it to get to Brickyard Crossing.
I then went east on 24th St. following what looked like the same route Faudi took, destination 6th Ave. north.
Sixth Ave. was also a slam-dunk.
I turned north on the streets that are Route 764 toward downtown Altoona.
They eventually intersect 17th St., the main drag into Altoona from the east.
Instead of turning west toward downtown Altoona, I turned east, and then north toward the Railroader’s Memorial Museum.
It looked like the same route Faudi had taken.
After the museum I turned east again, toward 6th Ave.
Then north on 6th Ave., just like Phil had done.
We followed 6th far north of town, but missed a turn toward the old 220.
I could have taken old 220 north too, but Faudi always used 6th Ave. because it was closer to the tracks.
Six-Targets was the hairball; we drove by its secret entrance at least four times.
The secret entrance is a fairly-well hidden dirt-track between buildings the railroad uses as a service-road.
But the road also crosses the tracks, so it may be a farm-road.
It’s just off old 220, near an amusement-park to the south, and just south of the Grazierville (“Gray-zher-VILL”) exit off I-99.
We paraded up the old 220 to a giant truss-bridge where the tracks cross under the highway.
“Wait a minute,” I said. “That puts the tracks on the wrong side (east of 220); they’re supposed to be west.”
We turned around, heading south on old 220, past Tipton (and its amusement-park), all the way to the road into Bellwood.
“I forget the order of things,” I said. “Six-Targets north or south of the Tipton crossing.....
Far as I know, that secret dirt-track is north of Tipton, and just south of the Grazierville Exit.”
North on 220 again, to just short of the truss-bridge.
Back south, but turned west onto McFarland Road.
That’s because Six-Targets is on the railroad’s McFarland’s Curve.
“But that secret entrance is off the old 220,” I said.
Back south on 220; turned north at the amusement-park.
“That entrance is just south of the Grazierville Exit,” I said.
“I bet we’re near it,” Linda said.
Headed north again we passed a Ford dealership.
“Do you remember that?” Linda asked.
“No, but I remember that baby-blue Mustang in the lot with the trick wheels,” I answered.
Back south, and headed toward Tipton and the amusement-park.
Finally, “I bet that’s it!”
We had just passed the secret entrance.
Around again, and in we went.
Up the rocky dirt-track Faudi is a little afraid of doing because his Buick is a car, and doesn’t have the ground-clearance of our CR-V.
All the way up the road, and there it was; the Six-Targets signal-bridge.
We could go home.
It’s not that hard to find, now that I know where it is.
But we also tried Plummer’s Crossing, east of Tyrone, where the railroad turns east toward Harrisburg.
Plummer’s Crossing is a fabulous shot of a westbound.
But nothing yet — nothing was coming.
No more Faudi. I have to be able to find Plummer’s myself, and can.
Now all I hafta do is make sense of what’s on my scanner.
So I don’t have to wait hours.
That’s within range.

Reflections:
—1) As is commonly the case, this trip was the first time this season I wore long-underwear.


Train 22W booms through Altoona toward the 8th St. bridge. (Photo by BobbaLew)

There was a frigid breeze on the 8th St. bridge.
The weather was lousy; cloudy and cold, but at least not raining — or not raining down in the valley where we were.
There wasn’t enough light.
I had the camera on auto-exposure, which renders a shutter-speed so slow the fronts of trains were often blurred.
E.g. my lead picture, “Run,” up top.
I should have had my camera on “shutter-priority,” at least 1/200th, or cranked up the ISO.
—2) I was able to do the YMCA the following Friday. In fact, I mowed the backyard the Thursday afternoon after we got back home.
—3) We purchased Tasty-Kake® chocolate cupcakes at the Foy Ave. Sunoco in Williamsport on the way down — but only because they had them.
A mistake.
Tasty-Kake® chocolate cupcakes were a favorite staple when I was growing up.
They’re only available around Philadelphia.
All they are is a layer of chocolate icing on leaden cupcakes; probably done by a machine.
I have since learned that real baking is much better (i.e. my wife).
The Tasty-Kakes were like lead.
My mother never baked.
As reputable as they are, they’re not worth getting.
—4) Gallitzin (“guh-LIT-zin”), PA, the Allegheny Summit town Tunnel-Inn is in, was in mourning.
The entire town was decorated with yellow ribbons, and EMS and fire personnel were everywhere blocking streets.
Apparently a young Gallitzin Marine had just been killed in Afghanistan.
His body was at a funeral-home.
A horrible waste.
Faudi made a comment, but I try to avoid politics and religion lest I destroy good friendships.
—5) We never visited the Mighty Curve at all.
In fact, we never used my scanner, except during my exploring.
—6) This train-chase was probably the least successful, mainly because of the weather.
Too cloudy and dark.
I suppose it had to happen sometime.
All previous Faudi-gigs were perfect weather, sunny without a cloud in the sky.
The only exception was last February, but that was snow-squalls, with the sun breaking through occasionally.
Perfect winter conditions.


My last Faudi picture; Amtrak’s westbound “Pennsylvanian” approaching the Bellwood footbridge about 5 p.m. (Photo by BobbaLew)

—7) This train-chase was also sad.
My last train-chase with Faudi.
I feel I made a friend, a fellow train-nut like myself.
The guy he chased trains with the day before was also at Tunnel Inn, and he suggested he drive his own car, and pay Faudi to direct him.
I don’t know as that would interest me, as my intent was always to chase trains myself.
On the other hand, Faudi and I hit some fabulous spots in that old Buick of his, and I’d hate to have him miss out because of that great car he has now.
My CR-V has gobs more ground-clearance, so won’t bottom on forest tracks.
I also am not that concerned about shrubbery scratching the paint, and doubt it would anyway.