In pursuit of Fall Foliage

Not much foliage here. (Y91 climbs the Mighty Curve.) (Photo by BobbaLew.)

“Any day chasing trains beats any day at work,” my brother says.
He’s involved in managing electric-power generation in the Boston area.
“And the weather here has been slam-dunk,” I observed. “70+ degrees, not a cloud in the sky, strident blue stratosphere, and strong sunlight. My ISO is only 400, and I’m at 1/800th or a thousandth. Cloudy might be ISO 1,000, 1/500th if I can get away with it. Sometimes ISO 1,250, 1/250th.” (1/250th courts blurring of charging locomotives.)
“The only thing lacking is Fall Foliage,” I said. “It’s almost non-existent. Some color is around, but not much.”
“And it sounds like it won’t get any better,” my brother added. “A guy here noted leaves are browning, then falling off. It’s been too dry and hot.”
We were doing this visit as always. My brother drives to Altoona Wednesday — takes him nine hours. Then I drive there Thursday, and he chases trains alone until I arrive. It takes me five hours.

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(Thursday, October 19th, my brother alone.)

He began at Bennington Curve atop Allegheny Mountain west of Altoona. “Benny” is just east of the summit tunnels.
We looked at his first “Benny” picture; train 12G: “That thing has a slug in the lashup!” I cried.


“This thing has a slug in it!” (Photo by Jack Hughes.)

A slug is a locomotive with its engine/generator and control-stand removed. It’s just traction-motors.
It’s wired to a full locomotive, a “mother.” Its traction-motors are powered by the mother unit. Instead of powering just four or six traction-motors, the mother is powering eight or twelve (or ten).
Never before have I seen a slug on mainline railroading. Usually they’re in yard-service, where ya need a lotta low-powered traction.
The slug (#874) is a converted EMD SD-40, shorn of its prime-mover, etc, and fuel-tank. Six traction-motors sucking power off the mother, in this case a GE Dash-9.
Often you’ll see a slug between two mothers = a full locomotive at each end. The slug is sucking off the two locomotives.

My brother got other trains near Benny.


Slightly west of Benny, 25Z claws toward Allegheny tunnel. The second unit is a Burlington-Northern Santa Fe run-through returning west, but NS is using it. (Photo by Jack Hughes.)


591, coal-empties uphill at Bennington Curve. (Photo by Jack Hughes.)

My brother then went to what my Altoona railfan friend calls “High-bridge” — what we call “Five-tracks” — the Route 53 overpass east of Cresson over five tracks toward the summit.
Four tracks are originally the Pennsy main. The fifth is a storage siding.
Tracks Four and Three are on the original Pennsylvania Railroad alignment. Two and One, slightly higher, are on the old state New-Portage railroad alignment, aimed at New Portage tunnel, south of the original Pennsy tunnel.
New-Portage railroad, part of a state-sponsored combination canal and railroad to compete with NY’s Erie Canal, failed almost immediately, and became part of Pennsy. New Portage tunnel was slightly higher, so Pennsy had to ramp up to it = “The Slide.”
My brother is always attracted to “Five-tracks.” “Never seen five tracks on a railroad main.” (Actually only four tracks are main, but that’s two more than usual.)
The final ascent toward the summit is dramatic; slightly steeper eastbound to New Portage tunnel.
Westbounds usually get Track Four — they came up the east slope after Altoona on Three; which becomes Four past the summit.


38Q is eastbound on One, climbing toward the summit. Right-to-left are Four, Three, Two, One, and the siding. (Photo by Jack Hughes.)

Track Three can be either way; it was Two at the summit.
My brother then went to Cresson, then Cassandra Railroad Overlook, even better than Horseshoe Curve because it’s shady.
Cassandra Railroad Overlook is at the east end of a long bypass Pennsy built in 1898.
That bypass circumvented torturous curves through Cassandra; it begins in Portage. It required a long fill, then a deep rock cut — what couldn’t be done when the railroad was first graded.
Part of the original railroad remains as a branch to Sonman coal loadout. Sonman was once a mine, but no longer is. It remains, loading long trains of coal trucked in.
Long ago the highway entered Cassandra over the rock. When that rock was cut for the bypass, an overpass had to be built. That highway since bypassed Cassandra, so its right-of-way was abandoned.
But the old overpass still exists, or was replaced. I’ve heard various stories: original highway bridge versus replacement pedestrian overpass.
I think it’s the original highway overpass; cast-iron or steel trusswork, and a concrete deck. A pedestrian overpass didn’t need to support a loaded Model-A truck — which this bridge could.
Although it’s only one lane: wide enough to clear a Model-A, but probably nothing wider.
Supposedly the bridge was kept so Cassandra residents could safely cross the railroad to coal-mining on the other side of the tracks.
Whatever, railfans began congregating on the old bridge to watch trains.
A Cassandra resident noticed, so started mowing, and put in old restaurant tables. Park benches were added.
Cassandra is the West Slope of the mountain. Not as steep as the East Slope, but trains still use helpers, and assault the heavens climbing.
Most importantly, my brother snagged the SD80MACs; only Norfolk Southern has ‘em.


Y90 with SD80MAC #7202 threads the rock cut toward Cassandra Railroad Overlook. (Photo by Jack Hughes.)

The SD80MACs were originally Conrail, and at 5,000 horsepower each were intended to reduce locomotive usage on the old Pennsy Middle Division, Harrisburg to Altoona, from three per train to two.
The SD80MACs were alternating-current traction-motors. Most diesel-electric locomotives had been direct-current.
AC drags better at slow speed than DC, so the SD80MACs got redirected toward coal-drags.
13 of Conrail’s SD80MACs went to CSX after Conrail broke up and sold in 1999. But Norfolk Southern traded for ‘em. Now only NS has SD80MACs.
The MACs are based at Cresson’s helper facility, and get used to drag heavy coal-trains over the mountain to Altoona — coal that originates in the area.
They’re behemoths, and use EMD’s V-20 710G prime-mover.

My brother shot other pictures at Cassandra:


22W hammers upgrade on One, while empty coal cars descend on Three. (Photo by Jack Hughes.)


61N, an empty slab-train, passes under Cassandra Railroad Overlook. (There is a Union-Pacific run-through, or NS ex-UP rebuild candidate, in the lashup.) (Photo by Jack Hughes.)

A “slab-train” is all open gondola-cars. Westbound it carries steel slabs from manufacturer to rolling-mill — usually two slabs per car. The slabs are often rolled into automotive sheetmetal.
As such a “slabber” is heavy, requiring helpers up the East Slope. The helpers also hold back the train as it descends the West Slope.
The train pictured is eastbound, returning empty for more slabs.
My brother then drove to where Jamestown Road crosses the 1898 bypass on a bridge. The bypass is arrow-straight from Cassandra down to Portage, and the overpass is at about the halfway point.
My guess is Pennsy built the overpass, since the girders look like railroad practice. The bridge also has eastbound signals mounted, milepost 257.
Railroad-east looks up the long straight toward Cassandra. Railroad-west looks down the long straight from Portage.


Eastbound 66X, solid crude-oil, approaches Jamestown Road overpass on Track One. (Photo by Jack Hughes.)


21V, a stacker, cruises west down the bypass. —The helpers of 66X are visible far away on Track One. The track that switches into One is from Sonman. (Photo by Jack Hughes.)

My brother then drove down to Portage, but our fabulous trailer-shot is being overgrown. A retired highway trailer is trackside where the 1898 bypass ends. We got westbounds at that trailer charging off the bypass.
Word had it the guy cutting back trackside weeds died — don’t know how true that is. (Locals are jumping through hoops for us railfans.)
I’d set up my tripod next to the trailer, and telephoto the curve off the bypass. Now weeds are in the way.


11J, solid auto-racks, exits the 1898 bypass. (Photo by Jack Hughes.)

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(By now I arrived, so together, Thursday, October 19th.)

I went to Cassandra, and my brother back to “Five Tracks.” He said foliage was a little better there, which is near the mountain-top.
Cassandra didn’t work for me. My location needed westbound on Two — everything westbound was on Three, which is partially obscured by trackside shrubbery. Two may have been closed.
I drove back toward Five-Tracks, but decided I’d check out a trackside cutout west of the overpass.


23Z passes the cutout toward MO. (High-Bridge is in the background.) (Photo by BobbaLew.)

(“MO” are old telegraph call-letters for a signal-tower that was once there. MO is now just an interlocking with crossovers = four tracks back to three.)
I then drove back to High-Bridge. My brother, sitting on an old bridge abutment, had already shot 23Z coming down from the summit.


23Z cruises down Four toward High-Bridge from the summit. (Photo by Jack Hughes.)

By now we were losing our light.
Looking west at the Five-Tracks approach, railheads gleamed in the setting sun.


294 approaches “High-Bridge” in fading light. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

We drove to “Benny,” but by then anything looking west was destroyed by strong sunlight backlight.

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(Together, all day Friday, October 20th.)

Our first stop was Horseshoe Curve.
“Every railfan, BY LAW should be required to visit The Mighty Curve” (Horseshoe Curve), BY FAR the BEST railfan pilgrimage spot I’ve ever been to.”
(That’s two different links readers. Second is the YouTube webcam.)


Y91 (empty coal-cars) continues up the western side of the Curve after passing the apex. (Photo by BobbaLew.)


Amtrak’s eastbound Pennsylvanian continues down the Curve towards Altoona. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

“How come they didn’t build a trestle between the two mountains?” a gentleman asked.
We were on the viewing overlook in the Curve’s apex.
“Because it would be too steep!” I exclaimed.
“Railroading isn’t trucking,” my brother added.
“In the early 1800s this mountain made trade between Philadelphia and the nation’s interior almost impossible,” I said. “Allegheny Mountain didn’t extend into NY state, making the Erie Canal possible.
Philadelphia capitalists were so worried over the success of the Erie Canal, they got PA to build a canal system. But Allegheny Mountain couldn’t be canaled. They had to portage it with a railroad, and grading at that time was so rudimentary the railroad had to use inclined planes = steep grades on which stationary steam-engines atop the grade winched up the cars.
The portage railroad also required transloading canal-packets onto railroad flatcars.
By the 1830s railroading was superseding canals. PA’s combined canal/portage system was so cumbersome and slow, Philadelphia capitalists founded their own private common-carrier railroad, the Pennsylvania Railroad, Harrisburg to Pittsburgh.
They still had to conquer Allegheny Mountain. They brought in John Edgar Thomson from GA, who had built railroads in the area. He noticed this valley, that horseshoeing it would ease the grade enough to operate through trains.
Helper locomotives would be needed, but you weren’t breaking up the train.
The grade up east slope of this mountain averages 1.75% — that’s 1.75 feet up for every 100 feet forward. Things start getting hairy after 2%. At 4% yer lucky if a locomotive call pull up 10 or more cars.
I think the maximum ruling grade on Interstates is 7% — a truck can do steeper. But it can’t move 250 or more trailer containers with a crew of only two or three — maybe two or four more over the mountain.
Nor can trucks carry 120 tons of coal, the capacity of a single railroad coal gondola. A lot more than 18 wheels are gonna be needed. —And that coal-train may have more than 100 120-ton cars.
Thomson’s grade over Allegheny Mountain, and his Horseshoe Curve, still exist. 1.75% is fairly steep for a train, but ya haven’t gotta break it up.”
“What an idiot,” my brother said later.
I disagreed. “It’s the old rubber-tire jones,” I said. “Most people don’t understand railroading.” For most people, railroading, like canals, is done. “I never realized so many trains were still running.”
My brother and I both had our railroad-radio scanners. So we got to hear the hours-long radio jabbering about the troubles of train 27N. The “Trip-Optimizer” on one of its two locomotives was shutting down the locomotive.
“Trip-Optimizer” is an auto-pilot of sorts, computerized I’m sure, that operates the train while its engineer stands by to override if necessary. “Trip-Optimizer” monitors train handing and weight to enhance fuel economy. 10% fuel-saving is claimed.
What a capital idea; trash “seat-of-the-pants,” which is different for every human.
WHOA! Garbage-in-garbage-out! I know all-too-well how ‘pyooter trickery can lead astray. “What prompted that?” I ask my iPhone. Mysteries wrapped in conundrums.
If they killed Trip-Optimizer, the locomotive ran fine.
It was the old waazoo. The driver reports hairballs to higher-ups, and thereafter gets blamed. We got this at Transit. A bus would shut down stranding all-and-sundry out in the boonies. 10 degrees out. Shiver two hours awaiting a replacement bus.
Angry passengers badmouth the driver, and Transit management, in its infinite wisdom, blames the driver for the failed bus. “He shoulda refused the bus,” management bellows. At yer peril! Refuse a bus and you got called on the carpet.
The engineer, knowing he’d get called in if he didn’t report the hairball, mentioned it to every higher-up along the line = Harrisburg to Altoona.
And of course every higher-up had to have a full description of the hairball. That’s 10-15 minutes per description. Higher-up after higher-up = referred ever higher.
“If I shut the Optimizer off, no bells, no alarms; the engine loads properly.”
“So run without it.”
HELLO, is this not the same wisdom delivered 100 miles earlier, and perhaps four more times as the train proceeded west? Four times 10 is 40 minutes.
Finally 27N was released from Altoona — “Run without it.”


27N, minus Optimizer, climbs The Mighty Curve. (It’s solid auto-racks.) (Photo by Jack Hughes.)

Employees spend more time figgerin’ how to cover their butts.

We decided to revisit Bennington Curve. It would be morning light, and foliage was slightly better atop the mountain.


590 (loaded coal) rounds Benny. (Photo by BobbaLew.)


25V (stacker on Three) climbs past pushers on the back of 590 descending. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

Trains passed, then I suggested a new photo-location near Bennington = an overlook slightly above the tracks.
I’ve noticed my brother seems hesitant to try new railfan-locations I suggest. This includes new photo-locations. Various things I might not have considered are at play, particularly lighting.
Years ago, back when my brother had only been to Horseshoe Curve, I suggested going to Brickyard Crossing in Altoona. Brickyard is where the railroad crosses little-used Porta Road at grade. It’s the only grade-crossing in Altoona.
A brickyard used to be adjacent, but now it’s gone. Railroad employees and railfans still call it “Brickyard.” It’s milepost 238.8; it has a signal-bridge and defect-detector.
Put-downs, snide remarks, but other family were present; so we went.
The railroad being what it is, after 10 minutes a heavy coal-train came down Track One. Within minutes a stacker was passing uphill on Three.
“Bobby, this place is really cool!”
HELLO; multiple trains are right in-yer-face.
Almost immediately my brother and my railfan nephew were up on a trackside embankment taking photos.
Months later I suggested my brother, etc, visit Cassandra Railroad Overlook. Weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth. Cassandra is maybe 12-15 miles west of Horseshoe — but we went.
A few weeks later my railfan nephew showed me photos he and my brother took at — guess — Cassandra Railroad Overlook. After all that badmouthing, my brother took my nephew to Cassandra.
Complaints and bellyaching regarding the new overlook.
“At least it’s worth checking out,” I said.
“Bobby, this place is really great!”
“Tried to tell ya!” I snapped.
My brother snagged the picture I wanted to get.


11J (all auto-racks) passes the new overlook. (Photo by Jack Hughes.)

“Not worth coming here if you don’t show,” my brother tells me.
That works both ways, of course. I’m railfan enough to come here alone, and have. But I’d rather it be both of us. We have a good time, and I let him drive. He’s 13 years younger than me.
And despite his management jones, I’m gonna stick to my guns.
“Tell ya what. I’ll go to Fostoria alone if I hafta. I need that shot. You can go where you want.”
Next we drove to Summerhill, railroad-west of Portage, almost to South Fork. An old Pennsy signal-bridge is there, milepost 263, with eastbound signals elevated to be visible above a highway-bridge.
It was a shot I wanted to try = get the signal-bridge silhouetted by sky.
“Get outta my picture!” my brother bellowed. He was behind me on an embankment.
“This shot only works where I am. I ain’t cavin’.”
Ties were piled next to the railroad. Compromise time. I could hunker behind the ties and not be in his picture. Low was where I wanted to be anyway.
The vaunted UPS-train came through, 21E, but I didn’t have my camera on, or whatever. I get various inputs regarding the UPS-train, 21E versus 21J. My railfriend in Altoona says it’s 21E — my brother says 21J is also UPS.
I don’t care that much. I once heard the engineer on a stacker tell the dispatcher no problem holding for “the hotshot” to clear. That was 21E.


21J comes through Summerhill. (The red-and-black wiring probably has something to do with “Positive-Train-Control.”) (Photo by BobbaLew.)

21J I successfully photographed. The UPS-train is cross-country, more-or-less guaranteed on-time. It gets three diesels insteada two. It goes Norfolk Southern to near Chicago, where it gets handed over to Burlington-Northern Santa Fe.
21J also had three diesels. It was pretty much all UPS trailers-on-flatcar, although now Fed-Ex and others are using the “UPS train.”
I also got #6920, Norfolk Southern’s Veterans Unit, an SD60E, rebuilt from an EMD SD-60. It has Norfolk Southern’s new “Crescent cab,” and is painted mainly navy-blue instead of black.


NS’s Veterans-unit is leading. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

6920 was heading I4Z, an advance section of 24Z due to too many cars. The train also had two BNSF run-through units.
So, could we beat it down to Altoona’s Amtrak station, so we could shoot it there? That’s Summerhill to Altoona, perhaps 15-18 miles.


I4Z, led by NS’s Veterans-unit, approaches Altoona station. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

Altoona’s Amtrak station was our next stop, but it was getting dark. In October you only get maybe nine hours of usable light. By 6 p.m. it’s marginal.
The station has two pedestrian overpasses to a railroad museum on the other side of the tracks. Altoona was once Mighty Pennsy’s shop-town.
One bridge is covered, but the second isn’t. Vagrants call the covered bridge “the elevator bridge,” because it has elevators.
The uncovered overpass is just stairs.
“Ya mean I gotta climb them stairs?” I asked. Probably at least 25 feet up; four stair runs.
Two shots, one being Amtrak’s westbound Pennsylvanian, which stops in Altoona.


Amtrak’s westbound Pennsylvanian approaches Altoona‘s Amtrak station. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

My last shot is after 6 p.m. In October ya don’t get many locations.


24W passes Altoona station. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

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(Saturday, October 21st, alone, before driving home.)

One more shot; tiny Fostoria, hardly anything, but the railroad goes smack through it.
A signal-bridge (227) crosses most of the entire right-of-way; once four tracks, but now three. And one of those tracks is a signal-controlled siding. Six old Pennsy targets are on the signal-bridge — all tracks are signaled either way.
The siding can accommodate extra traffic when Track Two or One are closed. The siding is Track Three — disregard the old signal-signage, which labels it Track One.
I’m trying to silhouette the signal-bridge against sky = a wide-angle shot. Has to be morning-light. Afternoon doesn’t work; only the locomotive-front is lit. I need the train lit too.


25V splits Fostoria. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

• “The Mighty Curve” goes back long ago to the “Mighty Mezz,” the Daily Messenger newspaper in Canandaigua, where I worked after my stroke October 26th, 1993. I recovered well enough to return to work. One time a fellow worker, a graphic designer, asked where I was going on vacation. “Horseshoe Curve,” I said. “The Mighty Curve, eh? How come yer always going there? That’s where you went last time.” “Trains, man.”
• “Transit” equals Regional Transit Service (RTS), the public transit-bus operator in Rochester, NY, where I drove transit-bus for 16&1/2 years (1977-1993). My stroke ended that. I retired from there on medical-disability. I recovered well enough to return to work at the Daily Messenger newspaper in Canandaigua; I retired from that almost 12 years ago.
• “Bobby” is of course me, “Bob Hughes,” aka “BobbaLew.”