Train-chasing with Faudi on phone

(“FOW-dee;” as in “wow.)

I finally got one (a westbound approaching 257.2). (Photo by BobbaLew.)

Photo by Tom Hughes.

That’s yrs trly in the red jacket; my brother Bill is at right.

Another foray to Altoona, PA to chase trains in the area.
This would my eleventh “tour” with Phil Faudi, the railfan extraordinaire from Altoona I chase trains with.
Except he wasn’t able to accompany me, due to his wife having a virus of some sort on top of the multiple-sclerosis she already has.
I will never forget when Phil called after I arrived.
It was like a punch in the gut.
I felt like there went my train-count, 20 or more with Phil, to perhaps five with me alone.
A five or 10-minute wait per train with Phil, as opposed to a half-hour or more for me, if at all.
But Phil had an idea. He’d monitor his scanner at home, and call me to tell me where I might catch what he heard coming.
Suddenly my train-count was recovering.
Phil would call my cellphone, so I could be out anywhere along the railroad.
It just so happens I invited my railfan nephew, Tom, along. He would have accompanied me and Phil.
Then my younger brother Bill, my nephew’s father, suggested he’d like to join us. (Bill is not a railfan.)
So now it was just me and Bill and my nephew, but Phil only by phone.
Phil also gave me a list of all scheduled eastbounds, since he would be unable to monitor the west side of The Hill.
I had my scanner, but unfortunately it’s not Phil’s scanner, which has a tuned antenna so gets better reception.
My trip to Altoona was uneventful.
The only thing worth mentioning is what I call the Hillary Clinton and Chuck Schumer Memorial Freeway, a short segment of perhaps eight miles from Presho to the PA state-line, is not open yet.
It’s graded and paved, but a bridge needs to be erected yet.
I had to use the ancient two-lane, the only section of two-lane remaining in a trip to Altoona.
Other than all the rural two-lanes I use to get across New York.
I could use a freeway, but it’s roundabout, and takes as long as my slower two-lanes.
A trip to Altoona is now almost all limited-access expressway in PA.
I arrived at Tunnel Inn in Gallitzin (“guh-LIT-zin;” as in “get”), the bed & breakfast we always stayed at, at about 3:15 p.m., my usual time.
My nephew would stay with me, since I had reserved a room with two single beds. And my brother would stay at a motel in Altoona — since I hadn’t reserved for him.
My brother and nephew would arrive about 6:45; they suggested we all eat supper together at a restaurant.
I had set up my CR-V to seat four, but without Phil we were down to three. My brother suggested he drive his car so I could answer Phil’s phonecalls.
Our train-chase would begin at Slope Interlocking, an overpass in Altoona over the old Pennsy “Slope Interlocking,” where The Hill begins.
Slope is also where the leads began into vast Altoona Yard. There once was a tower. —The switches are all interlocked to avoid conflicts.
Amtrak’s eastbound Pennsylvanian was coming, and was on time. We’d catch it at Slope.
So began our parade of “doubles,” what Phil calls two trains at once.
An eastbound stacker came down The Hill on Track Two, then another on One, and then Amtrak’s Pennsylvanian beside it on Track Two.

Stacker and trailers down on Two. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)

Rare. (Photo by Tom Hughes with Phil Faudi.)

But I had the wrong lens on. I had my big telephoto zoomer.
My nephew got the better picture. He wasn’t using telephoto.
And 513 is a rare locomotive, not the usual P42.
It’s an Amtrak version of the General-Electric freight locomotive.
I’ve seen them on eastbound Pennsylvanians, but only because the eastbounds are what I see; there’s only one eastbound per day.
The 500-series could be on westbounds too.
The eastbound Pennsylvanian gets into Altoona at 9:51 a.m. (Westbound about 5 p.m.)
We saw it about 9:35-9:40.
I called Phil. “Where to next?”
He suggested going west from Slope over The Hill, but he couldn’t monitor that side, which is why he had given me that list of eastbounds.
And so began our train-chase coached by Phil on the telephone.
Phil says he called me nine times. My cellphone says I called him 15 times or more.
We tried the approach to Ledges, but the snow was so deep we turned back. My brother was driving us around in his BMW sedan, which was not my CR-V.
Just-the-same I probably would have turned back my CR-V.
Brickyard-Crossing was among our stops.
Actually it’s the Porta Road grade-crossing, the only grade-crossing in Altoona.
But there used to be a brickyard adjacent.
It was there we saw our “triple,” first one train passed by a second, and then a third train.
That’s a train on all three tracks.

First this down on One. (Photo by Tom Hughes with Phil Faudi.)

Then a train up on Three, and

Then the triple begins; this is the second train. (The first train of the triple is still up on Three.) —This train was all auto-racks, which blocked the third train down on One. (Photo by Tom Hughes with Phil Faudi.)

The last triple I saw was almost 44 years ago.
Unfortunately the only way to photograph a triple is from above, an overpass.
Brickyard is a grade-crossing, not an overpass. All we could do was see it was a triple; the second train was blocking the view of the third train.
Triple passed, we had another double.

This one is up on Three while train-three of the triple is stopped on One for this one to clear. (Photo by Tom Hughes with Phil Faudi.)

The third train of the triple was stopped to clear this train.
At some point we ended up at South Fork, and the sun came out. It’s a fabulous shot with strong telephoto, a gigantic curve.
I called Phil, who remember can’t monitor the western side of The Hill. (He’s at home on the eastern side.)
“A westbound is coming; 25 minutes to the top of The Hill, then 20-25 minutes to South Fork.”
“Have we got time to go up to CP-W?” I asked, which is just north (railroad-east) of South Fork.
“Yes.”
But in moving there we lost a fabulous shot of an eastbound at South Fork.
All I got was a helper-set – so pictured.

And so it goes. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)

The eastbound came as soon as we left, and I’d never heard it.
About all I can do is try again in a few months.
And hope I can get a tuned antenna like Phil if alone.
I also have to develop the ear Phil has, to pick out train-symbols from the gibberish as the engineer calls out the signals.
If I’d had all that, we wouldn’t have lost that fabulous shot at South Fork.
Next was CP-W (checkpoint W) just north of South Fork.
An eastbound went by as we were walking down to it; a ballast-strewn service-road.
CP-W is where the South Fork Secondary switches into the main line; and there used to be a flyover there. The flyover is long-gone; it was only there to keep trains switching onto the South Fork Branch from blocking the main.
Phil said more westbounds were coming, and we kept getting eastbounds, and doubles.

I think this is my best picture. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)

I think this is the westbound UPS-train. (Photo by Tom Hughes with Phil Faudi.)

(“UPS” because it’s all United-Parcel-Service trailers, very high priority. The train goes all the way to the west-coast.)
Time was passing quickly, more quickly than I expected it would.
Already it was 4 p.m., and getting dark.
We concluded at 257.2, a highway overpass over the tracks that has the 257.2 signals mounted to it.
That section is a bypass built in 1898 to ease curvature approaching Allegheny Summit from the west.
Far down the tracks is a deep rock cut; a lot of rock had to be blasted out to make that bypass.
Also visible far down the track is Cassandra (“kuh-SANN-druh;” as in “Ann”) Railfan Overlook, a footbridge over the tracks next to the tiny town of Cassandra.
Railfans were attracted to that footbridge.
Much of the original mainline is still extant, as it serves a coal-tipple. It used to cross here and go into Cassandra.
It switches into the mainline at right.
We were losing light, but I managed to snag the lede picture (above).
I’ve shot many photos off that bridge, but that lede picture is the first I’m happy with. It’s not fabulous, but it’s pretty good.
We ate supper at the infamous spaghetti-joint, Lena’s in Altoona.
We never saw Phil, so our chase, fairly successful, went unpaid for.
(I usually eat out with Phil.)
I returned home the next day, a Sunday, very depressed; seemingly more so than my last train-chase in September.
I was returning home to the same sorry, sad situation I had left two days earlier — the fact I am now a widower.
My beloved wife of over 44 years died nine months ago, and I miss her dearly.
I still have my dog, but I told her “your master is still a wreck.”
And so yet another train-chase drifts into the filmy past.
Train-chases I can still do, but no railfan excursions yet.
I lack the confidence.

Well, here I am

Helpers push eastbound at CP-W near South Fork. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)

First time ever to Tunnel-Inn in Gallitzin (“guh-LIT-zin;” as in “get”), in the Altoona PA area, to chase trains with Phil Faudi (“FOW-dee;” as in “wow”) since my beloved wife of 44 years died April 17.
I’m a railfan, and have been since age-2 (I’m 68).
No laundry to do, no meals to cook; for which I’m rather disorganized.
I left the house in slight disarray about 9:40 a.m. Wednesday, June 6, after boarding the dog.
Five hours and 261 miles later I was in the tiny Tunnel-Inn parking-lot.
“Tunnel-Inn” was the bed-and-breakfast we usually stayed at in the Altoona area. We stayed there many times.
Tunnel-Inn is right next to Tracks Two and Three of the old Pennsy mainline, now operated by Norfolk Southern.
It’s within sight of Pennsy’s tunnels through Allegheny Ridge, one abandoned, and the original Pennsy tunnel enlarged to clear two tracks and doublestacks.
Hence, “Tunnel-Inn.”
We always got the “Alco” suite, because the air-conditioning doesn’t blow on the bed, it’s a queen-size bed, and it’s along the back wall away from the tracks.
You still hear the trains. There are many, and they rumble by all night, wide-open climbing, often blowing their horn for the tunnel before descending.
“Alco” is American Locomotive Company of Schenectady, NY. For years, American Locomotive Company was a primary manufacturer of railroad steam locomotives. (It was originally a merger of many steam locomotive manufacturers.) —With the changeover by railroads to diesel-locomotives, American Locomotive Company brought out a line of diesel-electric railroad locomotives much like the railroads were changing to, and changed its name to “Alco.” Alco tanked a while ago; they never competed as well as EMD (General-Motors’ Electromotive Division).
Tunnel-Inn is the old Gallitzin town offices and library, a substantial brick building built by Pennsy in 1905.
It was converted into a bed-and-breakfast when Gallitzin built new town offices and a library across the tracks.
The old Pennsy, now Norfolk Southern, is a main freight-conduit east from the nation’s interior. A lot of trains also pass west, toward the nation’s interior.
There is a third track, not visible from Tunnel-Inn, on the other side of Gallitzin.
This is Track One, and it passes through New Portage Tunnel, higher up than the Pennsy tunnels. —Pennsy had to ramp up to it.
Pennsy came to own the state-sponsored Pennsylvania Public-Works System, which it put out of business, which included the “New Portage Railroad” (which included that tunnel), which replaced the original “Portage Railroad,” which had inclined-planes.
The Pennsylvania Public-Works, meant to compete with the Erie Canal, was a combination canal and railroad system.
No way could a canal breach the Alleghenies.
In fact, grading was so rudimentary when the Works were built inclined-planes had to be included in the railroad segment (a portage). Stationary steam-engines would winch the cars up the planes.
The system was so cumbersome and slow, Philadelphia capitalists proposed the Pennsylvania Railroad, Harrisburg to Pittsburgh.
They hired John Edgar Thomson of Georgia to lay out a manageable Allegheny Crossing, and he included a grading trick, world-famous Horseshoe Curve west of Altoona.
Altoona, at the base of the Alleghenies, became Pennsy’s shop-town.
It hired thousands to develop, maintain, and manufacture railroad equipment.
Horseshoe Curve, looping the railroad around a valley, made surmounting the Alleghenies manageable. It stretched out the grade so it could be only 1.75 percent on average, instead of four percent, which would have been near impossible. (Four percent is four feet up for every 100 feet forward — which a truck can do, but not easily a railroad.)

DAY TWO: the actual train-chase
Everything that could possibly go wrong seemed to go wrong; except my car didn’t fail, I kept it between the lines, and no accidents.
First my camera went south.
The day started fine, but after about 2-3 hours my camera went dark.
The viewfinder image was so dark it was barely visible.
Then I noticed recorded images were similarly dark.
The image would be so dark it was barely visible.
Then I had no images at all. —The camera wouldn’t shoot.
We considered recharging the battery, but the icon said it was still fully charged.
Either I inadvertently knocked a setting, or the camera went wonky.
The solution was a trip to the seller, about 285 miles away.
Faudi suggested I ask Mike Kraynyak (“crane-eee-YAK”), proprietor of Tunnel-Inn, if he had a camera I could borrow.
Kraynyak is a raillfan.
Kraynyak had to also be there; he had said he needed to go out.
Kraynyak was there.
My camera is a Nikon D100, over 10 years old, the first digital camera Nikon offered — I think.
Kraynyak’s is a Nikon D80, much like the D100, and to my mind the camera I should have got. It would have been fine for what I do. —My railfan nephew in northern DE has a D80, and does fine with it.
Kraynyak loaned me his camera with my memory-chip.
We reset his camera to fine-jpegs, what I was shooting with my D100.
“Do you wanna quit early, Bob?” Phil asked.
“Not as long as I have Mike’s camera,” I said.
Off we charged to continue our train-chase, my D100 in my room at the bed-and-breakfast, and me with Kraynyak’s D80.


Three GEs bring a stacker down The Hill on Track Two toward Slope Interlocking. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)

(At Lilly.)

Doublestack west on Three. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)

Helpers hold back the above westbound. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)

(Interlude at South Fork.)

Around the bend into South Fork. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)

Eastbound on Two. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)

Coal off the South Fork Secondary. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)

Helpers hold back a westbound downhill. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)

(At CP-W east of South Fork.)

Mixed-freight eastbound on Two. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)

(At Alto Tower.)

The slab-train boogaloos past Alto onto the drag tracks. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)

Alto Tower is at right. (“Alto” is the only remaining Pennsy tower, and will be closed shortly.) (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)


Back to the mines. (Westbound empty coal-gondolas through Altoona.) (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)

First we went to Slope Interlocking on the west side of Altoona, west of the yard-entrance.
Crossovers are being replaced so Alto tower can be closed, and trains entering Altoona can be switched from Pittsburgh.
The picture at Slope is with Mike’s camera, as are Alto and the last picture.
Everything earlier (Lilly and South Fork) is with my camera before it went dark.
After Slope we went to Alto tower.
But we could see a shower coming.
I managed to snag a few pictures; three trains at Alto.
All while Phil protected my car in a private parking-lot.
After Alto we went to Altoona station, which has a covered walkway over a bridge across the tracks.
I could shoot from inside and not get rained on.
After that we went up to Rose in Juniata (“june-eee-AT-uh”), the crew-change location, but that’s outside. It started raining hard.
We drove back to Alto, where I could shoot from under an overpass, and not get rained on.
But then Kraynyak’s camera started acting up.
It was throwing a strange message at me, and wouldn’t shoot.
I tried a solution suggested earlier by Kraynyak, and it didn’t work.
Now both cameras were failing me, and Kraynyak’s camera was unknown to me.
Plus it was pouring.
We set up at Alto under the overpass, but I got nothing.
It also got dark.
Mike’s camera was still throwing its message at me, and wouldn’t shoot.
We gave up and went to Brickyard Crossing west of Altoona.
The crossing is not Brickyard Road. It’s actually “Porta” Road.
But the grade crossing had a brickyard nearby, since torn down.
So the crossing was called “Brickyard Crossing.”
At least there we could stay inside my car out of the deluge.
Two trains passed, both downhill, although one might have been just a helper-set.
It was raining, and my borrowed camera was failing me.
I studied the camera.
“Do you wanna stay here and just watch trains?” Phil asked.
“My heart’s not in it,” I said; “I guess we might as well call it a day.”
It was after 4 p.m.
“Too many things are on my mind,” I said. “Plus my wife is gone, so I get depressed when things go awry.”
“Well, I guess you oughta take me back to my house,” Phil said.
Since Phil is no longer in business giving “tours” (train-chases), I take he and his wife out to dinner afterward.
It’s my paying him for leading me around.
We decided to hit Aldo’s Italian-restaurant in Juniata just north of Altoona.
It’s probably the best Italian restaurant in the area.
I had to find it on-my-own, and my confidence seems to have withered with my wife’s death.
But I found it easily; signs were out front, and I had been there once before.

DAY THREE: back to reality
A reality even worse than what it was when my wife was alive.
Back to cooking on-my-own and doing and folding laundry.
The drive back was slam-dunk easy, but my wife was no longer along to monitor improvements to our route.
I have driven this route-segment hundreds of times, the Rochester-area to Williamsport.
When I started driving it back in the ‘60s, I was driving from northern DE to my college in western NY.
To Altoona is a different route south of Williamsport, more westerly than easterly.
When I began, the route was nearly all two-lane, particularly north of Williamsport.
South of Williamsport was the infamous three-lane along the Susquehanna (“suss-kwee-HA-nuh”) river toward Harrisburg.
The third lane was the middle, marked “pass with care” or “no passing.” Traffic bunched up behind a slowpoke, then all zoomed past in the “pass with care” section.
Now even the three-lane is four-lane expressway, as is the entire route in PA north of Williamsport.
When I started driving to Altoona perhaps 18 years ago, the trip took six-seven hours. Now it takes five.
Four-lane expressways opened adjacent to the old two-lane segments, plus there was limited-access rerouting after flooding caused by Hurricane Agnes.
Last to go was the old “Blossburg Hill” up Blossburg mountain. That was a few years ago.
Heavily-trafficked two-lane segments switched over to completed four-lane expressway, and two-lane limited-access was converted to four-lane.
There also was the segment through Steam Valley that used the old road southbound. It wasn’t up to interstate standards; all curvy and hilly, speed-limit 45 mph.
Even that was replaced recently.
The only segment still two-lane north of Williamsport is just above the NY state line.
And even that has new four-lane expressway being built adjacent.
I suspect that will be open before I kick the bucket, but my wife didn’t make it.
I used to do all the driving down to Altoona; my wife sewed. We’d monitor the route-changes and comment.
It’s strange driving it alone. No one to bounce my comments off of.
Like how the lightly-traveled four-lane expressway seems overkill. Like PA presumed gas-prices will not skyrocket, so traffic will grow.
I pulled into my garage at 1:42; left Tunnel-Inn about 8 a.m.
I brought home my dog from boarding about 6:30.
I felt pretty good; like it was good to be home even if alone.
But when I awoke the next morning I felt horribly alone.

• “Pennsy” is the Pennsylvania Railroad, no longer in existence. It merged with New York Central Railroad in 1968 as Penn-Central, and that tanked in about eight years. “Pennsy” was once the largest railroad in the world.
• “Bob” is me, Bob Hughes, BobbaLew.

Train-chase number eight

20T descends Track Two at Ledges. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)

“It’s beginning to make more sense,” I thought to myself.
“Train 13G, I’ll send ya down Two,” said my scanner, snagging instructions by the operator in Alto (“al-toe;” as in the name “Al”) Tower, in Altoona, PA, (“al-TUNE-uh;” also as in the name “Al”), I think. (It coulda been the Pittsburgh dispatcher.)
The guy I chase trains with in Altoona, Phil Faudi (“FOW-dee;” as in “wow”), had called while I was driving to Altoona.
My cellphone is in my back pocket, and I don’t answer while driving.
A missed call.
I called back after we arrived at Tunnel Inn, the bed-and-breakfast we usually stay at in the Altoona area.
Phil’s wife, who has multiple sclerosis, was having a problem.
She had just had her usual catheter installed, and it was leaking.
If you need explanation of Phil, click this link, and read the first section. It explains Phil.
Phil used to lead all-day train-chases.
He called them “Adventure Tours;” and that was what they were: railfan overload.
I did at least six adventure-tours with Phil driving.
He gave it up; fear of liability suits, and a really nice car he was afraid of messing up.
But he can’t resist: a true railfan.
He agreed to lead me around if I did the driving.
We used to do it for money; me paying him $125 for an all-day train-chase. —The first time, a slow day, we got 20 trains. Another time we got 30 trains over one nine-hour day.
Now we do it as railfans, and I take him out to dinner afterwards.
I still say he just loves doing it, and of course so do I.
I’ve also snagged quite a few fabulous pictures, and Phil showed me some excellent locations.
Some photos were so good I had Kodak make me a photo-calendar.
And now Tunnel Inn, which caters to railfans, asked me to print a slew through Kodak Tunnel Inn could sell.
My first train-chase with me driving instead of Faudi was last February.
We did fairly well, but the snow was almost non-existent. It was warm.
And the light for photography in February is fleeting.
I woulda tried again in May or June, but my wife has cancer.
It’s supposedly not fatal.
It’s treatable.
Actually, she has two cancers: -a) Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma, and -b) metastatic breast-cancer.
The Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma appeared about three years ago as a hard tumor in her abdomen.
That was poofed with chemotherapy.
The metastatic breast-cancer did not have a primary site; it never appeared in her breasts.
It was first noticed in her bones, where breast-cancer metastasizes.
We knocked that back with Femara®, the trade-name for Letrozole.
Femara is an estrogen inhibitor. Her breast-cancer was estrogen-positive.
Her breast-cancer just about disappeared.
Things deteriorated seriously in May, and had been getting worse up until then.
My wife was near death, and was admitted to a hospital.
Finally the doctors woke up — all-of-a-sudden action; they were afraid of losing a patient.
Things being what they were, train-chases in May or June, or even July, were clearly impossible.
They saved her; now my wife is fine — like nothing happened.
Chemo was administered that sent her cancer packing.
So far, so good; but who knows the future?
So we agreed on August, with my wife accompanying.
But now the tables were turned; it was Faudi with the problem.
“Don’t feel obligated,” I told him. “This is your wife!
This is a mini-vacation for us,” I said; “and this line is busy enough to do fairly well, even if we don’t get 30 trains with you, plus my scanner is more under control.”
A month ago, without Faudi, and with my siblings, my scanner got nothing.
He can’t resist!
Nurses tended his wife, so he felt confident he could lead us around all day.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“So what’s 13G?” I asked him. “And if I knew where it was, I could probably snag it.”
I had met Phil to get an up-to-date train-schedule. The one at Horseshoe Curve was outta date, he told me. (July 2011 versus October 2010.)
But he had a difficult time printing it.
Computer hairballs. —I know ‘em all to well.
I had this MAC along, and I had two options to get the Internet: Bluetooth from my Smartphone, or Tunnel Inn’s wireless.
Plus the computer throws up Internet from cache, until you refresh.
You hafta know it’s doing that.
Back-and-forth I went: “This is Tunnel Inn’s wireless, MacBook Pro not connected via Bluetooth.”
You have to use guile-and-cunning to make sense of what’s going on.
Off to the Mighty Curve we went, about five o’clock.
We both climbed the 194 steps to the viewing-area without drama. I keep getting older (I’m not in the best of shape). About two months ago my wife fainted after climbing only a one-story staircase in the hospital — wheelchair after that.
Amtrak’s westbound Pennsylvanian would pass about twenty after five.
“07T, westbound on Three, 241.7, CLEAR.”
Hurray; I’m actually getting it — Amtrak’s train-engineer calling out the signals.
It blasted past, and I snagged my first photograph.


Westbound Pennsylvanian at the Mighty Curve. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

Then we went to Cresson Springs Family Restaurant, for their trademark Philly cheese-steak sandwich.
Not bad, but I’ve found better.
Too many onions and peppers, and not enough steak and cheese.
Better is Mac’s Philly cheese-steak in nearby Canandaigua, and they import the right rolls.
Cresson Springs doesn’t. You have to eat it with a knife-and-fork.

—Day Two (Friday, August 19, 2011); day of the train-chase
Phil had rousted me about 7:30 at Tunnel Inn while I was eating breakfast on their back deck outside.
Norfolk Southern’s Executive-Business-Train, stored in Altoona when not in use, was coming up The Hill.
I snagged it in Gallitzin (“guh-LIT-zin;” as in “girl”) but in poor morning light.


Tuxedos top the summit in Gallitzin with the Executive-Business-Train. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)

(They’re called “tuxedos” because of their paint.)
It was a unique locomotive arrangement: A-B-A-B.
Phil surmised the train would be split farther west.
The Executive-Business-Train always starts out too early in the morning.
We zagged over to Cresson (“KRESS-in”), so Phil wouldn’t have to meet us at Tunnel Inn — 9 a.m.
Get hopping, as usual, up to Five Tracks, where PA Route 53 crosses the five tracks approaching Allegheny summit at Gallitzin east of Cresson.
Only four tracks are in active use; one (Main Eight) is for storage.
Two tracks at a lower level approach the old Pennsy tunnels at Gallitzin.
The others, at a slightly higher level, approach the old New Portage Railroad tunnel, eventually acquired by Pennsy.
We couldn’t stand where I stood a few years ago, because everything was grown in.
We had to stand on the bridge.
This gets wires and the bridge-girder if you don’t telephoto; so I telephotoed.


A loaded coal-extra (510) approaches the Route 53 overpass. A second coal-extra is stopped. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)

We snagged a few, and then Amtrak was in the picture, the eastbound Pennsylvanian, state subsidized, the only passenger-train remaining on the old Pennsy main across PA. —Actually there are two: eastbound and westbound.
The old Pennsy main once had many passenger-trains.
Amtrak was on time.


Amtrak’s eastbound Pennsylvanian passes the stopped coal-extra. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)

Norfolk Southern seems to bend over backwards to keep Amtrak on time.
Most of the scheduled freight-trains run late, some quite a bit, but Amtrak is on time.
Next we went to — I forget!


Coal-extra 520 eastbound at Lilly. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)


Doublestack eastbound (20T) on Two at Lilly. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)


Coal-extra 520 approaches Ledges. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)


Coal-extra 520 passes and departs Ledges. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)


Train 37A (mixed freight with helpers) approaches Brickyard crossing in Altoona. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)


Doublestack train 20R eastbound on Track Two east of Portage. (There was an old SD40-2 in the consist.) (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)


Train 538, a coal-extra, passes under the signal-bridge at Summerhill. —The two eastbound signal-targets are raised to be visible over a nearby highway bridge. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)


Coal-extra 538 approaches the summit on Five-Tracks. (The train in the distance is probably stopped for a brake-test before descending The Hill.) (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)


Train 10G, helpers added, passes the Trash-Train at Five-Tracks. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)


PRAMP-PRAMP-PRAMP! Units pass Tunnel Inn on Track Two after a brake-test before descending The Hill. (Photo by BobbaLew.)


Too much telephoto (300mm) at Control-Point W (CPW) east of South Fork. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)

I’m sure Phil is frustrated by my driving, that I can’t push.
I tell him it’s the fact I drove bus, which made me extremely careful, but we thought later more is at play.
It’s the fact I had a stroke, so don’t have the limits of others.
I have to concentrate extremely hard to not make mistakes, which makes me pokier than the average driver.
I’d been told I’d never drive again.
Nevertheless I do it better than my wife, who is automotively challenged.
As a result of my poky driving, we miss trains we might have gotten if I could push harder.
But I don’t care. —If I miss a train, it’s no great shakes.
I’m not trying to maximize train-count. I can’t push.
During the day we missed eight trains, a record for Phil.
But we sighted 23 trains, some two or more times.
We also managed to beat the UPS train to a location, although it was slowed some by restrictive signals.
That train is priority. It booms-and-zooms.
We saw it pass through Tipton at about 60 mph during a strong thunderstorm downpour, and then we zoomed west.
This involved a long trek over rural roads up The Hill.
As I say, the train was being slowed by restrictive signals. But we were making fairly good time.
It would have beat us without that slowing.
If it had beat us we’d consider it no great loss.
For me to lose it on a curve and smash up my car in the trees is a great loss.
“I’m failing my customers,” Phil said.
“We’re not customers,” I told him. “We’re only doing this for pleasure. 20+ sightings is way more than I got by myself last month with my sister.”
Finally I suggested it wasn’t fair for me to drive Phil around, that I have to drive within my limits, which are apparently stroke-impaired.
Phil is a master of that scanner, so we snag many more trains than if it was just me.
He’s also showed me some fabulous locations, and we tried a new one during this trip.


Train 21J westbound at CPW, where the storage-track (at right) from the South Fork Secondary rejoins the main. (There used to be a flyover here.) (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)

But I can’t push. It’s the stroke, I guess. I hafta drive within my compromised limits. I get passed all-the-time.
I’m sure it also frustrates my brother-in-Boston, but it seems he never got the idea I was brain-injured, that I had a stroke.
This seems true of all my siblings.
To them I appear entirely normal, fully recovered. My disagreeing is just the maunderings of a Democrat (gasp!) — they know better as tub-thumping REPUBLICANS, making me of-the-Devil as an anti-Conservative (not merrily goosestepping to Rush Limbaugh).
Stroke-effects are usually physical; e.g. paralysis of a limb, etc.
People don’t seem to see that a brain-injury can also have mental effects.
I have no physical detriments, so therefore I’m completely recovered.
But I’m not.
All the gray-matter that was there before is not now.
(“Running on seven cylinders,” I say.)
Something that wasn’t previously doing the driving is now doing the driving.
Just like my speech is slightly compromised.
My original speech-center was vaporized by my stroke, but I get by using other grey-matter.
I can pass for normal, and my driving also appears normal.
But it’s not. I have to concentrate extremely hard to not make mistakes.
It makes me pokier than most.
Since I’d forgot to gas up the night before, we slowly ran out of gas as the day progressed.
Nothing dramatic, but after doing the shot above north (railroad east) of South Fork, I noticed we needed gas.
So into South Fork we went, but not without first trying to see the signals west out at South Fork Interlocking.
They weren’t visible — too far away, and washed out by the sun.
South Fork is an old coal-town built haphazardly on the hillocks.
Narrow side-streets — a grid — thread buildings with no frontage; right at the street. It’s like driving an alley.
The streets are only a single lane wide. This seems to be the way all towns are west of Altoona, hilly and cramped.
The main drag through South Fork is also quite narrow, and skirts two outside edges of the grid.
That means it does a sharp 90 degree turn east.
South Fork is also where the South Fork Secondary came off the old Pennsy main.
The main turns west, and the Secondary turns east.
Coal tipples are out along the Secondary, and they load coal trains for shipment east.
We pulled into a gas-station at the 90 degree turn, but Phil noticed another had a five-cent cheaper price per gallon.
So we drove to that.
A gas-station from the ancient past, with only two pumps, and they were barely accessible.
The space I had to use, between the pumps and the building, was quite narrow.
The pumps were also not “pay-at-the-pump” with me filling.
A crotchety old unshaven geezer in a motorized wheelchair, missing teeth except a gold incisor, in a sweat-stained greasy tee-shirt, asked “fill ‘er up?”
When was the last time you heard that? A gas-station from the ‘50s.
My gas purchase also would be cash, no credit-card.
$37; 10.4 gallons.
Glad I hit the ATM before making the trip.....
Phil wanted to use a restroom before we left.
“Right along the back wall,” geezer said.
“I suppose I should too,” I said, but first a senior-citizen had lined up to fill her Buick.
So I moved our car along side a giant flatbed tow-truck parking next to the building.
But only giant relative to the town. He was blocking the service-bays of the building. —But you couldn’t do otherwise.
After Phil came out of the restroom, I tentatively crossed the oil-slicked service-area, and went into the restroom.
It was incredibly filthy, but first I had to find the light-switch.
It wasn’t inside, and the restroom had no windows. Shut the door and it was pitch dark.
I surmised it might be outside, and there it was in a greasy junction-box beside the door.
“Cheapest gas if you can stand the accommodations,” I said to Phil.
“My wife wouldn’t even set foot in that restroom,” Phil said.
“If I’d had to sit, I woulda gone behind the building,” I said. “At least the toilet didn’t gush water all over the floor when flushed.”
I noticed a giant red-metal PRR keystone sign at least three feet high amidst the oil-stained girly calendars.
That PRR sign was slathered with grease.
“Ho-hum; another coal-train,” a father said the previous day at the Mighty Curve.
But not for coal and the Pennsylvania Railroad (PRR), South Fork wouldn’t exist.
In fact it’s almost dead already, but those coal-tipples keep it alive.
Our final stop was dinner for Phil and his wife, if she could do it.
Phil used my cellphone to call his wife; she’d done okay, and could do dinner.
We’d drive to Phil’s house, and then he would drive all of us to our dinner selection, the infamous spaghetti-joint, Lena’s Cafe in downtown Altoona.
Lena’s is not precisely an Italian restaurant, but it’s pretty close.
My meal-choice is always spaghetti with homemade marinara sauce and a single meatball — no salad, it’s too much.
My mother survived the Depression. I am required to clean my plate. —It determines how much I can order.
Phil’s wife Rita wasn’t too bad, but I worry about what Phil has to face.
I had a hard enough time dressing my wife when she was sick — I kept feeling like I was getting angry.
Phil’s wife has a difficult time walking.
She also talks about incredible fatigue, a thing I remember muscular dystrophy patients complaining about at my post-stroke outpatient rehabilitation.
Muscular dystrophy, like a stroke, is a traumatic brain-injury (TBI). Except a stroke is sudden, whereas muscular dystrophy is slow deterioration.
Both can effect both mental and physical functions, although in my case it’s mental function. Physical function recovered as what remained of my brain took over.
Rita’s deterioration seems more physical.
“Are ya sure ya wanna do this?” I asked.
Lena’s would require a cane; a walker was too wide.
Lena’s also has a step up into the building.
“Yep,” she said. She’s very determined; “ornery,” I used to say, referring to my own recovery.
Usual spaghetti with meatball and marinara at Lena’s.
After Lena’s we went back to Phil’s house and shot the breeze a while.
He had the same Norfolk Southern Employees’ Photography-Contest calendar I have.
He gave me their 2010 calendar, which I didn’t get.
Two of the pictures therein are at Cassandra Railfan Overlook (“kuh-SANN-druh;” as in the name “Anne”), one of our photo locations, which we didn’t visit.
Cassandra is probably the best, but mainly because it has shade.
The overlook is an old footbridge over the tracks the railroad is threatening to remove, because concrete crumbled off the bottom and damaged a locomotive.

—Day Three (Saturday, August 20, 2011)
“Back to reality,” I said to Mike Kraynyak (“CRANE-eee-yak”), as I turned in our room-keys.
Kraynyak is the proprietor of Tunnel Inn, the guy who bought the building and converted it to a bed-and-breakfast.
Tunnel Inn is the old Gallitzin town offices and library, built by the Pennsylvania Railroad in 1905.
It’s brick and pretty substantial.
Kraynyak also added an outdoor deck out back, and roofed it.
He also put floodlights in the tunnel-cut.
Gallitzin built new town offices and sold the building.
Kraynyak bought it and converted it to a bed-and-breakfast.
It caters to railfans — it’s right next to Tracks Two and Three.
The drive is about five hours, 260+ miles, about all I can stand.
Other people drive 10 hours or more, over 500 miles.
I tried that once, and was utterly wiped out.
And that was despite shared driving.
I can do the entire drive to Altoona, but it’s all I can take.
A while ago I had to take a nap following the drive, but that seems to no longer be the case.
It’s probably working out at the YMCA.
And I used to puke out about 4 p.m. chasing trains with Faudi.
My wife still does, but not me.
There’s no incentive in chasing trains for her, but I’m a railfan.
Plus there’s the fact I work out at the YMCA.
As usual, the hardest thing about these mini-vacations is boarding our dog.
She’s very attached, and taking the dog along is almost impossible.
Horseshoe Curve doesn’t allow dogs, nor do Altoona motels.
Including Tunnel Inn, which doesn’t allow pets.

Another Faudi train-chase

(“FOW-dee;” as in “wow”)


25Z south toward the Lilly overpass. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

First time at the infamous Station-Inn in Cresson, PA (“KRESS-in”), nine railroad miles from the Mighty Curve.
The “Mighty Curve” (Horseshoe Curve), west of Altoona (“al-TUNE-uh”), PA, is by far the BEST railfan spot I have ever been to. Horseshoe Curve is now 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. —I’ve been there hundreds of times, since it’s only about five hours away.
Station-Inn is a bed-and-breakfast that caters to railfans, but as such is rather rudimentary.
“Martha Stewart doesn’t live here,” said a sign near the lobby.
No amenities to speak of; no TV in the rooms (no problem in our case), no refrigerator in the room, wi-fi only downstairs (supposedly, although I got it upstairs), and probably no air-conditioning.
Worst of all is single beds, abhorrent to people like us who have slept together since married, which is 43+ years ago.
Station-Inn is the old Callan House built in 1866, hard by the Pennsy Main through Cresson.
Although that railroad is now Norfolk Southern.
No matter, it’s a main railroad route from our nation’s interior.
Wait 25 minutes and you’ll see a train; often fewer minutes.
Sometimes the trains are fleeted; one after another.
And it’s three tracks — used to be four (the “Broad Way”)
Cresson is far up the western slope of the railroad’s crossing of the Allegheny Mountains.
In the early 1800s the Alleghenies were a barrier to west-east commerce, but the railroad conquered that.
Cresson was the location of Cresson Springs, a mountain health-spa (the “Mountain House”).
People used to take the railroad out from Pittsburgh and stay at Callan House.
Tunnel-Inn wins!
Tunnel-Inn is the bed-and-breakfast in nearby Gallitzin, PA (“guh-LIT-zin”) where we normally stay when in the Altoona area.
—Named that because it’s right at the west-facing entrances of the Pennsylvania Railroad’s tunnels under Allegheny summit.
It used to be the Gallitzin town offices and library built by the railroad in 1905.
When Gallitzin built new town offices, a railfan named Mike Kraynyak (“CRANE-yak”) bought it and converted it to a bed-and-breakfast.
He completely gutted and restored it; even sandblasted the exterior down to the original brick.
It has amenities Station-Inn lacks, mainly for us -1) wi-fi in our room; -2) a small refrigerator in our room;-3) a queen-size bed that can comfortably sleep two; and -4) air-conditioning.
Trains at Tunnel-Inn are more in-your-face than Station-Inn, where they are across-the-street.
But the heavy brick exterior of Tunnel-Inn keeps out the racket.
About all that wakes me is a train blowing its air-horn after a full-stop brake-test on Track Two before entering the tunnel, and descending The Hill.
(“The Hill” is the grades over the Allegheny mountains; up one side, and down the other.)
I’d always wanted to try Station-Inn, but the only reason this time was that Tunnel-Inn wasn’t open yet — as I understood it.
Kraynyak had a Valentine’s-Day winter special in the past, but not this year.
He has to come all the way from near Philadelphia.
We did the Valentine’s-Day special last February, and got some fabulous pictures.
Gallitzin was under 3-4 feet of snow that time. Poor Kraynyak was trying to clear his tiny parking-lot with only a snowblower.
We were hoping it would be like that this time, but it wasn’t. Just about all the snow was gone.
Temperatures would be into the 40s-50s, well above freezing.
Last year there was so much snow it was covering the ties.
We’d be chasing trains again with Phil Faudi.
Phil is the railfan extraordinaire from Altoona, PA, who supplied all-day train-chases for $125. —I did my first two years ago, alone, and it blew my mind.
He called them “Adventure-Tours.”
Faudi would bring along his rail-scanner, tuned to 160.8, the Norfolk Southern operating channel, and he 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’d let Phil do the monitoring. I have a scanner myself, but I 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.
My first time was a slow day, yet we got 20 trains. Next Tour we got 30 trains in one nine-hour day.
Phil gave it up; fear of liability suits, and a really nice car he’s afraid he’d mess up.
Things would be pretty much the same as his paid tours. About the only difference is I’ll be the driver.
I don’t mind a bit. Phil knows way more than me. He’ll be telling me where to go next.
I have my druthers, which he went by in the past.
I suggested role-reversal, that Phil bring his camera.
But that wasn’t what he wanted to do.
He wanted to show me around like in the past, except this time I’m the car-parker. No more “You get out, Bob; and I’ll park over there.”
Like me, Phil is a railfan. I suppose his greatest thrill is seeing me freak out, and get fabulous pictures. —There also is him showing me how to do what he does.
This time my brother-from-Delaware’s only son, my nephew Tom Hughes, approaching 26, is driving out to join us.
Tom is also a railfan.
To my mind, the idea was to blow Tom’s mind, like Phil did me our first tour.
It won’t be hard. Tom is a railfan just like me.
I remember coming home from work one night, and there was Tom, utterly entranced by my train-videos.
At age five!
Any other kid that age would climb the wall in three minutes.
But not Tom.
Better yet is that Tom brings luck to a railfan. Stop near a railroad, and sooner-or-later a train shows up.
I think we were the only guests, or nearly.
The front-door was locked when we showed up; “no vacancy.”
I called an emergency number posted outside, but got the husband. “Sandy’s not here now (‘grumble’), but works there. I have no idea what you’re talking about. (‘Grumble’).”
I was about to give up and room in Altoona at Holiday-Inn Express, but Station-Inn was in my cellphone contacts.
So I tried that, and got the owner, who was inside the Inn, but in an office where he couldn’t hear us pounding on the door.
“I’ll be right there,” he said. He was, the front-door was unlocked, and we were let in.
He thought we were reserved to arrive the next day, but his computer corrected him.
The owner is the so-called “crazy old coot’ who set up Station-Inn.
“Ever see all them railfans out there taking pictures?” he’d ask his critics.
“Of course we do. They’re all over!”
“Do ya think they sleep in trees?” he’d ask.
So now Callan House is a bed-and-breakfast for railfans, and has been since 1994.
It’s rather rudimentary, but “my clientele is here to watch trains!”
And well they can.
Station-Inn is across the street from the old Pennsy main.
It has an open front porch from which you can watch the passing parade of trains.
We hadn’t been there three minutes and a train appeared; later two trains at once.
We’d been there about five hours, and during that time 20-30 trains passed.
Some were identifiable, like the infamous “trash-train,” and also the “ethanol-train,” solid tank-cars filled with ethanol, with only two safety cars at each end, in this case covered hoppers.
One behind the lead locomotives, and one ahead of the pushers.
The Hill often requires helpers, perhaps two units ahead of the lead power, and/or two units to push, sometimes four.
The railroad keeps a pool of helper-units in Cresson.
They are mainly used on The Hill, yet often go clear to Pittsburgh or Johnstown.
Helpers are not as necessary as they were previously.
Lead units are getting powerful enough to make The Hill unassisted.
Any more, the weight of the train determines if helpers are needed.
The idea is to get the train over the mountains quickly — and not have it stall.
Helper-units also add dynamic-braking descending hills.
With dynamic-braking the locomotive traction-motors are turned into generators, and the current generated is dissipated as heat in giant grids atop the locomotive.
It generates additional braking-action, but only at the locomotive.
Dynamic-braking can help hold back a train descending hills, and keep it from running away. (It’s happened.)
Dynamic-braking is also much easier to use. Previously retainers had to be set up on each car to keep brakes engaged.
A heavy train has momentum, and gravity can make it run away on even the slightest grade.
Every locomotive used on The Hill has dynamic-braking; once an option.



Amtrak’s eastbound “Pennsylvanian,” on Track Two through Lilly, PA. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

Day Two: the great train-chase

I hadn’t planned to do this, but things started falling together.
There was a lot of snow on the ground, and it was still covering the ties of Finger Lakes Railway in nearby Canandaigua; even though the roads were clear.
So it looked like I might be able to match the photography I got last February.
Tunnel-Inn was closed, but Station-Inn had vacancy the times needed.
I invited Tom to came out expecting nothing, but he agreed.
Phil also seemed interested.
He had gone out along the railroad, but observed almost all the snow was gone.
“I’m always game to chase trains!” I responded; “even without the snow.”
Chasing trains with Phil is railfan overload.
Best of all was my nephew going to show.
Things were falling into place.
So we reserved at Station-Inn, and drove there.
But we were down to Spring conditions. Just about all the snow was gone.
And we had already hit just about every great photo-location. I’d be repeating previous shots, although perhaps with different light.
Beyond that, my nephew Tom was coming. The goal was to freak him out, much like Phil had done with me our first tour.
It wouldn’t be one of Phil’s “Adventure-Tours.”
Phil did the driving in the past, but this time it would be me.
If anything, I’m probably more conservative; although Phil is conservative himself — he isn’t frightening.
Breakfast at Station-Inn was semi-leaden pancakes prepared by “Chris,” eaten with others at a common table.
My blowhard brother-in-Boston, who noisily badmouths everything I do or say, usually with ad-hominems and name-calling a la Rush Limbaugh, would love Chris. Chris is an obvious Harley-dude.
Big with grizzled features, a long-haired flowing white mane, and a Santa Claus beard.
But not fat and jolly like Santa Claus.
I’ve been compared to Santa myself — all my hair is white, and I have a beard. —But that’s a little off.
I’m not that fat, Chris even less so.
My brother would like Chris. He’s a macho Harley-dude who likes to eat.
Station-Inn is the hands-down winner for breakfast-food. Tunnel Inn is okay, but not hand-made breakfast at a table.
Phil walked in, and off we went.
First to the highway overpass over the tracks in Lilly, then down to South Fork.
There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, yet.
We got Amtrak’s eastbound Pennsylvanian on Track Two through Lilly next to a westbound passing on Track Three.
We also got that same westbound approaching the same overpass, as illustrated at the beginning.
We then drove down to South Fork, where I missed my first photo-opportunity. The train was appearing as I parked.
We then drove back north to Summerhill, just north of South Fork.
I parked the car, and we walked up on the overpass in Summerhill.
The signal-lights are always lit on the old Pennsy signal-bridge, and the eastbound targets are up high to be visible over the overpass.


227 westbound on Track Two at Summerhill. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

Back down to South Fork, where I got different camera-angles. It was still morning light. The big curve only works in the afternoon.


11K westbound on Track Two (note the shared BNSF unit). (Photo by BobbaLew.)

Track Three, the normal westbound track, was now out-of-service for maintenance. Everything westbound was being sent Track Two, which can be either way.
We then walked out on a highway overpass at the north end of South Fork.
Coal from the South Fork Secondary was parked on a siding — you can see it in the picture (below).


21Q westbound on Track Two through South Fork (note the leased EMD unit). (Photo by BobbaLew.)

We then drove back to Cresson.
After Cresson we drove all the way north to Plummer’s Crossing, east of Tyrone, PA. It’s where Plummer’s Road crosses the railroad.
It’s also where the railroad turns east through a notch in the mountains.
I was hoping to snag a westbound at Plummer’s; it’s an attractive S-curve.
But nothing.


20V eastbound approaches Plummer’s Crossing. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

All I got was an eastbound stacker; straight-track approaching the crossing. But the lead unit was not wide-cab.
Clouds were also moving in.
We then drove down to McFarland’s Curve near Tipton, what I call “Six Targets.”
That’s because it has an old Pennsy signal-bridge with six targets, the maximum. All three tracks can be either way.
It’s my favorite location; primarily because that signal-bridge, silhouetted against the sky, without distraction, makes a great frame.
But it’s only a two-track railroad at that point, the controlled-siding (the closest track) is only a siding.
To get to McFarland’s is up a dirt-track. It was filled with icy slush.
My CR-V has All-Wheel-Drive, plus the high ground-clearance of an SUV, so up we went, slipping and sliding over rocky gravel.
It’s a dirt-track Faudi dare not try in his new Buick, for fear of bottoming something.
And without All-Wheel-Drive he might not make it.


22W east on the controlled-siding under “Six-Targets.” (Photo by BobbaLew.)

“Don’t go up on the embankment, Tom. Down here (at trackside) is where it works. That silhouettes the signal-bridge against the sky.”
One track was still outta-service, which was why a mainline train was on the controlled-siding.
We then drove down into Altoona, the 17th St. bridge near “Alto” tower (“Al-toe;” as in the name “Al”), and also Slope Interlocking and Brickyard Crossing.
Alto is the tower that operates the vast Altoona complex, although it only operates, not dispatches.
Westbound helpers are attached there, and there are numerous tracks.


Westbound trailer-van on Track Three through Altoona. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

Slope Interlocking is where tracks eastbound into the Altoona yard begin; it used to be a tower location, but that tower was removed long ago.
It’s called “Slope” because that’s where The Hill begins.
“Brickyard” is a road-crossing next to an abandoned brick plant. It looks like that brick plant is gonna be demolished, in which case the name “Brickyard” becomes a misnomer.
The road that crosses is actually Porta Road, not “Brickyard.”
But “Brickyard” is what railfans have always called the crossing.
We took pictures at each location, but my ones at Slope were best.
This is despite my thinking Slope was sort of a waste.
It’s an overpass, but over straight track.
But I wanted Tom to be able to find Slope.


The front of Y94. (Two SD40-E helpers are leading.) (Photo by BobbaLew.)

Above (at Slope) is probably my best shot, but it’s only a grab-shot.
At Brickyard, where Tom has been before, we were passed by 10G eastbound on Track One, with a Virginia Railway Express (VRE) engine trailing the power.


10G east down The Hill at Brickyard Crossing, with a VRE engine dead-in-tow. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

The VRE locomotive had probably been overhauled, and was on its way back to Virginia.
We hit Slope a second time, and got a few more pictures.


23W westbound on Track Three, passing a stopped double-stack on Two for lack of railroad to continue. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

But by now our light was fading. I jacked the ISO up to 400 so I could continue shooting, but was down to 1/200th with the lens wide-open.


591 up The Hill at Slope. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

By now the headlight was reflecting on the lens; I had to take it out with the Photoshop Clone-tool.
Back to Alto one more time, but under the 17th St. bridge. I’ve never liked the location — a chainlink fence impinges. But you can stand off to the side, and minimize the fence.
But it was too late. It was probably already after 5 p.m., and getting dark. I was down to 1/100th wide-open, at 400 ISO.
So we gave up and left. (23 trains.)
Dinner-time.


Day Three: back to reality
—1) As always, the question is:
How much longer can I keep doing this?
We’re both 67.
The trip here is getting to be a drag, even though it’s only five hours, maybe 260 miles or so.
Both trips, here and back, were uneventful.
It used to be I had to sack out after a trip; nap on arrival, nap after getting home.
That seems to no longer be the case, although I mark off each way-marker.
Four-three-two more hours to go.
“Fort Roberdeau,” another 20-25 miles.
“Altoona, 45 miles.”
At least, distances on this trip are short, usually no more than 60 miles. “Williamsport, 50 miles;” “Mansfield, 40 miles;” “Corning, 38 miles;” “State College, 25 miles.”
Across New York state from home is about 75-80 miles, all country two-lanes.
Then it’s into Pennsylvania.
All roads across PA are four-lane expressway, 60-70 mph.
Only one section is intersections at grade, about six miles. But it’s four-lane.
I also do a shortcut that is two-lane.
It shortcuts a dog-leg.
Five hours is about my limit.
If it’s more, we share the driving, although even in the shotgun seat I’m still driving.
We split the driving so my wife gets the easy parts, while I get the difficult parts.
This is because she’s “automotively-challenged;” her ability to judge things is compromised — she gets overly nervous.
I can live with that. It took a while. On balance I accept that. She’s not frightening or worrisome.
When a car or truck is merging, I tell her if she needs to back off.
—2) I have my up days and down days.
This trip seemed to be up.
Some days I am utterly fagged-out working out at the YMCA Exercise-Gym.
It’s a struggle to keep going, although I usually can.
Other days I crush the exercise machines.
This trip wasn’t that, but close.
It used to be with Faudi I’d fag out about 4 p.m.
Chasing trains can be a rat-race, and Phil is the Energizer-Bunny.
But I keep going, or can now.
Phil and I have different walking speeds, me slower than him.
One time I had to run to catch up, but I still can.
—3) Will I do it again?
Probably.
Chasing trains is great fun, and with Phil you only wait a few minutes.
On my own, the wait might be a half-hour or more.
Trains are frequent on this line, but I’m not Phil.
—4) Can I do it myself?
Perhaps.
What I really know, and can understand, is defect-detector transmissions, and where those defect-detectors are.
Signal locations I’m getting the hang of, and the train-engineers call out the signal-aspects as they pass.
On the other hand, “Garble-hiss-mumble.....”
“Oh, that’s 20Q. He’s in the picture. He’s about five hours late. If we drive over to Pinecroft, we can beat him.”
“Great, Phil. To me that was static.”
We passed a train coming down The Hill on our way home.
We decided not to wait for it north of Altoona.
That train would change crews in Altoona, a long wait.
That’s knowledge gleaned from Phil.
—5) Back to Tunnel Inn next visit.
The fact Martha Stewart lives there is part of it, but mainly it’s their bed that will sleep two.
We’re in separate beds at Station-Inn: my wife wonders if I’m still breathing.
“I hope he’s all right; I can’t hear anything.”
At Tunnel Inn we just reach over, and the warm body is still there.