(The following story by John McCoy appeared on the West Virginia Record website on July 11.)
MOOREFIELD, W.Va. — With seemingly practiced ease, the youngster disengaged the locomotive’s air brakes and advanced the throttle four notches.
“That was smooth,” the veteran engineer said as the diesel surged forward. “Now, hotshot, we’ll see just how good you are. There’s a clump of weeds in the middle of the tracks just ahead. I want you to stop as close as you can to it without bending it over.”
Most kids go to summer camp to play. Campers at West Virginia’s Operation Lifesaver Camp learn about trains – how to be safe around them, how to ride them, and even how to drive them.
Established in 1999, the annual six-day camp accommodates boys and girls ages 10 to 17. Most of the campers hail from West Virginia, but every year at least a few come from outside the state. This year’s attendees included young people from Virginia, Pennsylvania, New York, Delaware and Minnesota.
John Perry, Operation Lifesaver’s state director, said the idea behind the camp is to educate young people about rail safety.
“We figured a camp would be a good way to educate children and let them have a good time in the process,” he said. “We teach them a lot and they don’t even realize it.”
One of the camp’s most remarkable features is that there are no fees. Grants from the West Virginia Public Service Commission, the Rahall Transportation Institute, TrakSpec Railroad Corporation, Appalachian Expeditions and the Collis P. Huntington Chapter of the National Railway Historical Society pay for the entire week.
“Because the camp is free, we have to limit participation to about 35 campers,” Perry said. “That’s a little tough, because as time has gone on, interest in the camp has grown. A lot of the kids want to come back from year to year.”
Some of the campers have used the experience as a springboard to jobs in the railroad industry. “The older kids we get tend to be train buffs or kids who are interested in railroad jobs, but the younger kids are mostly here to have fun. We’re OK with that,” Perry said.
At least once a day – usually for about an hour – campers gather in the dining hall for classroom sessions about railroad safety. Camp staff members teach the youngsters where accidents happen, how often they happen and why they happen.
Most of the education, however, occurs when the students aren’t even aware of it. “To give them a feeling for the size and power of a locomotive, we let them drive one under the supervision of an experienced engineer,” Perry said.
The South Branch Valley Railroad, a state-owned short line headquartered in Moorefield, hosts the hands-on event. Other train-related activities include a dinner train excursion, handcar races, and a trip through the scenic Trough canyon on open-air motor rail cars, or “speeders.”
The camp’s other highlights are a banquet for campers and their parents, an evening at a local swimming pool, and a tour of one of the area’s underground caverns.
“As long as the kids have a good time, that’s what we’re after,” Perry said.
Candidates apply for the camp by filling out an online pre-registration form posted on the Operation Lifesaver Web site, www.wvol.org.
“Normally we get really good kids,” Perry added. “Unfortunately, we can’t take all of the applicants we get each year. We have to limit the number of campers so that we can ensure that we have enough grownup supervision.”
A few of the staff are paid, but most take time off from their jobs. “We owe a great deal to our volunteer staffers. Without them, this entire week wouldn’t be possible. And it certainly wouldn’t be possible without the assistance of the South Branch Valley Railroad,” Perry said.
“The whole week is a great experience,” said Justin Shumaker, a camper from Fort Ashby. “I’m only sorry that I’ll be too old to be a camper again next year. Maybe they’ll let me come back next year as a counselor.”
He said that as Dan Morris, a fellow camper from Keyser, picked up engineer Bill Hill’s challenge and carefully slowed the locomotive as it approached the weed clump Hill had identified. Morris halted the engine with its front coupler a scant 4 feet from the weeds.
Hill patted him on the shoulder.
“Good job,” he said.