Train-chasing without Faudi

PRAAMP-PRAAMP; PRAMP-PRAAMMPP! (Photo by BobbaLew.)

So concludes our first attempt at chasing trains in Altoona, PA (“al-TUNE-uh;” as in the name “Al”) without Phil Faudi (“FOW-dee;” as in “wow”).
I have written up Phil so many times, I would just be boring constant readers, if there are any at all.
If you need clarification, click this link, and read the first part. It explains Phil.
I ended up with only three photographs, and we saw seven, maybe eight, trains.
With Phil it’s usually over 20. One time we saw 30 trains in a nine-hour day.
But I don’t think it was lack of Phil.
Hardly anything was running, plus there seemed to be track-work restricting things.
Most of the time my railroad radio scanner was silent; and lotsa times it was maintenance foremen closing track.
There are only three tracks over the mountain, and only two approaching from the east. (It used to be four, “the Broad-Way,” and six over the mountain [six, then down to five and then four, now three].)
It seemed most of the time at least one track was closed — including from the east.
There are a slew of scheduled freight-trains, but only a few were getting through.
And what did seemed to be running late.
Bottlenecks were somewhere.
Well okay, but the whole idea of this effort was to show my sister from south Florida the Mighty Curve (Horseshoe Curve).
Horseshoe Curve is another thing I’ve written up so many times I probably shouldn’t.
If you need explanation, click this link. Find the picture of the Curve; explanation will be around it.
My sister from Florida looked utterly bedraggled — and well she should. She had been driving for days.
First was getting from Fort Lauderdale to my baby sister’s in Lynchburg, VA.
That took two days.
Then to my brother in northern DE, and then my other brother near Boston, the macho Harley-dude who loudly badmouths everything I do or say.
Then it was from outside Boston to Altoona; a drive of seven-to-eight hours.
My brother was leading her on his Harley, and knows fast ways around New York City.
Nevertheless, it’s a day-long grind; something I’d be loathe to do.
My south Florida sister is 65 (I’m 67). —We’re not spring chickens!
My Boston brother and I are both railfans, and we’ve both been browbeating my Florida sister to see the Mighty Curve, by far the BEST railfan spot I’ve ever been to.
The fact my Boston brother was also coming meant train-chasing was a given. My Florida sister had never seen the Curve, and my Boston brother had never seen some of the fabulous places Faudi had showed me.
More importantly, it was a famblee reunion; although not all were present. Missing Altoona were my DE brother and his wife, my Boston brother’s wife, and also my sister from Lynchburg and her husband.
Also missing were their kids, my DE-brother’s only son (a railfan), my Boston brother’s kids, a married daughter and her younger brother, and all my Lynchburg sister’s kids, all boys, all three.
But finally we were getting my Florida sister to see the Mighty Curve.
My wife and I arrived first — we had the shortest drive, only five hours.
We called my sister, who was still at least two hours away.
My wife and I went up to the Curve ourselves, and saw the one-and-only Amtrak passenger-train across PA, the “Pennsylvanian,” westbound.
It goes past about 5:15-5:30 p.m. Eastbound is in the morning.


The eastbound Pennsylvanian, last February. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

It only goes to Pittsburgh, and is subsidized by the state. (PRR had many.) But it also runs the Northeast Corridor up to New York City from Philadelphia.
I called my sister again, but she was still driving — “out in the middle of nowhere.”
So we went to a restaurant we usually patronize in Cresson (“kress-in”).
My sister called as we were cashing out; she was finally in Altoona.
Back to the motel we drove, which was fully reserved, but my sister was one of the reservations.
She had reserved a king-sized bed, but king-size was no longer available, probably because they checked in after 6 p.m.
Oh well, better than nothing. All motels in Altoona were “no vacancy” well in advance; something was going on. (Altoona has a branch of Penn State, and there was thought they were doing something.)
The next morning I suggested we hit Plummers Crossing first, a long drive north of Altoona, just east of Tyrone (“tie-RONE”).
Tyrone is where the railroad turns east toward Harrisburg, through a notch in the mountains.
We set up at Plummers; it’s a dirt-track in.
We waited about 15 minutes, and all-of-a-sudden the lights came on on a nearby signal-bridge, which meant something was in the track-block.
My scanner had been indicating a possible westbound, but no, here it comes, eastbound, charging toward us on Track One.


Yrs trly at left, my brother Jack, Tom Reynders (“Rine-ders;” my sister’s husband), and my sister (extreme right). (Photo by Linda Hughes.)

It blasted past, about 40 mph, blowing its horn for the road-crossing (Plummers is a crossing).
We all shot photographs; mine is the one at the lead of this blog.
My siblings were all ecstatic, even the non-railfans.
Especially my railfan brother: “Bobby, this place is fantastic!”
At Plummers the trains are right in your face.
Our next stop was McFarlands curve, which I think is the most photogenic location Phil has taken me to in the Altoona area.
That’s because an old Pennsy signal-bridge is right on the curve, and can silhouette against the sky.
The signal-bridge has six target-signals on it. They signal each track either way. —They make a nice picture.
The farthest tracks are mainlines One and Two. Nearest is a controlled siding.


A camp-train is on the controlled siding. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

McFarlands is not easy to find.
You access it off a one-lane dirt farm track, which the railroad also uses as a service-road. —Except it has a street name per Google-maps.
You have to know where it is, lest you drive right by it.
There wasn’t much shade, but we found some, and my sister set up folding beach-chairs she had brought.


(Left-to-right) me, my sister, her husband Tom, and my brother Jack, all at McFarlands curve, which is also a grade-crossing to farm-fields across the tracks. (Photo by Linda Hughes.)

Nothing came.
But this is where the great marker debate occurred.
“I see pipeline markers!” my brother loudly bellowed.
“Oh maybe not,” I said. “I know for a fact a fiber-optic cable is buried in the right-of-way all along the tracks.”
“It’s a pipeline, I tell ya!”
I walked across the tracks, and looked at a marker.
“‘Buried fiber-optic cable,’” it says.
“How about that sign on the marker?”
“‘Buried fiber-optic cable.’”
“How about atop the marker?”
“‘Buried fiber-optic cable.’”
“How about that sticker on the bottom of the marker?”
“‘Buried fiber-optic cable.’”
“You’re just givin’ me the business.”
My sister’s husband Tom came across the tracks to look at another marker.
“‘Buried fiber-optic cable,’ it says.”
“I know it’s a pipeline marker. Inspectors fly over it to check for leaks. They got it signed wrong.”
“But it says ‘Buried fiber-optic cable.’
Just face it Jack, you blew it, and ya won’t even cross the tracks.
Increasing your volume doesn’t make ya right.
There may be a pipeline buried here, but the markers say ‘Buried fiber-optic cable.’”
Next stop was Bellwood, where a recent fancy-dan footbridge goes over the tracks.
It’s not that photogenic, but the tracks thread a residential area. It’s also a straight-line (no curvature), which makes it less photogenic.
The segment over the tracks is completely covered with tight chain-link. You have to shoot from the ends; that is, the tracks aren’t under you, and can be partially obscured by trees.
Again nothing, although my scanner seemed to indicate something was coming. But it was also indicating track-closings, in this case Gray Interlocking to “Park.”
I know where Gray is. It’s near Tyrone, and is where the controlled siding ends.
But I’ve never heard of “Park.” I didn’t know east or west of Gray.
No shade at Bellwood, so we left after about 20 minutes.
Next would be Cassandra (“kuh-SANNE-druh;” as in the name “Anne”) Railfan Overlook, a long drive from Bellwood to west of Altoona.
My sister and her husband were fagging out.
Cassandra Railfan Overlook is a fabulous place to watch trains, and is very shady.
My sister needed the shade. (It was very hot.)


Eastbound on Track Two at Cassandra. (Photo by BobbaLew.)


Westbound on Track Three at Cassandra. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

Cassandra Railfan Overlook is another location I’ve written up many times. If you need explanation, click this link, and read the first entry. The picture was taken at Cassandra Railfan Overlook, pictured below.

Photo by BobbaLew.

Cassandra Railfan Overlook (the bridge).

The railroad has been threatening to remove the bridge, it damaged a passing train when concrete fell off the underside.
But the bridge was still there.
We saw quite a few trains at Cassandra, but all were unannounced.
Usually my scanner picks up two defect-detectors, milepost 253.1 to the east, and 258.9 to the west.
Cassandra is between both, so can indicate when a train is coming.
But no defect-detectors, and no idea why.
What we heard, if anything, was other railfan scanners.
There also was a signal-bridge far west of Cassandra, but viewable.
If an approaching train was in the track-block, it lit the signals.
I wanted to drive farther out to Summerhill, again one of the most photogenic spots.


At Summerhill, two winters ago. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

But my sister was tired. Summerhill would lack shade, so we stayed at Cassandra.
Cassandra was at least an hour, but we figured we better do the Mighty Curve — via Tunnel Inn in Gallitzin (“guh-LITT-zin;” as in “gal”) at the summit of the Alleghenies.
Tunnel Inn was locked, so down to the Mighty Curve, the whole point of this trip.
We took the funicular railroad (a sort of cable-car) up to the viewing area. Funicular or 194 steps, and my sister has a bad back — I still can do the steps.
We saw a few trains at the Mighty Curve, three or four.
Two were before we left. Amtrak’s westbound “Pennsylvanian” had just left Altoona, and was coming up The Hill.
The funicular was running per a schedule, and would go down about 5:30.
Amtrak appeared, but on Track Three, outside a freight climbing on Track Two.
As Phil would say, “a double,” except the freight was blocking view of Amtrak.
Our next destination was the Olive Garden restaurant in Altoona for supper.
My brother was with me, and I suggested we could hit another photo location, Slope Interlocking, on the way there.
“Let’s do Slope,” he said. “They won’t know the difference.”
Except I wasn’t sure where I was going.
I knew Slope was attainable via a tree-named street, except just about all north-south streets in the area were named after trees; “Oak,” “Chestnut,” “Maple,” etc., etc.
So ziggity-zag, up-and-down, this way and that.
We found it, and my scanner was indicating a train approaching Slope from the west.
I wasn’t allowed to turn toward downtown (a one-way street), so back to Slope we went.
And Altoona is notorious for roller-coaster hills.
Back at Slope, there’s the train, but we didn’t stop.
Finally my sister, who was following, called from behind.
“Can we PUH-LEEZE go to Olive-Garden?”
After dinner at Olive-Garden, which suffers from being a nationwide chain-restaurant, instead of a local Italian restaurant.....
.....My brother and I drove by ourselves (my wife went back to the motel with my sister) to another Faudi-spot, “the Ledges.”
Another dirt-track road, that looks like a driveway, but actually it’s the drive for the Altoona Sportsmen’s Association.
It tunnels under the mainline to the other side of the tracks, and “the ledges” is accessible from a narrow jeep-trail up a hill.
I parked our car, and we hiked up, my brother huffing-and-puffing.
He’s carrying a lotta weight.
The light was fading; the sun had already set behind the mountains.
A signal-bridge is nearby, and the lights came on. My scanner was also indicating something was approaching.
But it was only a westbound helper-set, two SD40Es.
(Helper-sets don’t count as trains.)
It was about 8:30, and the light kept fading.
I was down to 1/30th of a second with my lens wide open, plus my ISO speed was doubled.
We finally gave up.
We all returned to our homes the next morning: —1) my brother on his Harley to his home outside Boston; —2) us to our home in western New York; and —3) my sister and her husband back toward their condo in Fort Lauderdale.
Seven trains, my sister said; “more than we’ve ever seen in a single day.”
My brother and I were hoping for better. It’s a busy line, a main railroad from the nation’s interior.
Even without Faudi you get snowed.
But it seemed nothing was running.
I’m sure we missed some, and my scanner wasn’t helping.
It was the old waazoo though; indiscernible static on the scanner.
I’ve experienced that on a Faudi train-chase.
I hear undecipherable static on Faudi’s scanner, and he identifies a train.
I don’t know how he does it.
I’d say my brother has mellowed some.
Not a lot, but some.
It’s both of us, of course. We are trying to not inflame each other.
Things I’ve said before didn’t start him blustering.
I could see him defer.
Just the same, my sister’s husband Tom, who has slight Parkinson’s, was in the bathroom at the Mighty Curve, and the funicular was about to go up.
My brother started foaming, telling him to get moving.
I glanced in the Mens Room to make sure Tom was all right, yet my brother was going bonkers.
Poor Tom. He told my brother to shaddup.
Good for Tom.
I don’t think my brother has yet attained tolerance for the slightly disabled.
Even though he has a handicap-plate on his Harley.
My brother knows I can hit the jackpot chasing trains.
No argument when I suggested Ledges.
“You lead,” he said.
The other thing is I came away from this reunion feeling I wasn’t in as bad shape as I feel at home.
My brother was huffing-and-puffing to keep up with me, and my sister looked washed out.
Although I think all her driving made a difference. Her husband, with Parkinson’s, didn’t do any of the driving.
I also never fell, and footing in some places was atrocious, particularly the Ledges.

• ”Bobby” is me, Bob Hughes, “BobbaLew.” “Linda Hughes” is my wife.