(The following column by Rick Bella appeared on the Portland Oregonian website on February 2.)
PORTLAND, Ore. — The two-way radio near Trainmaster Brian Enfield’s desk crackled to life, breaking the morning calm in the cozy St. Mary’s Depot.
“We’re about ready to go,” said engineer Bob Melbo, sitting in the cab of the big orange, black and yellow locomotive idling on the tracks nearby.
Enfield, who is responsible for the Portland & Western Railroad’s northern lines, took a quick glance around the depot, his desk piled with work, the walls plastered with memories. Then, after a quick review of the freight cars and their destinations, he gave his approval.
“OK, whenever you’re ready,” Enfield said.
Melbo goosed the throttle on the two GP39 diesel-electric locomotives, each capable of generating 2,300 horsepower, and the train began its run from Beaverton through Tigard and Tualatin, past Sherwood and through Wilsonville on its way to Albany.
The trains run along the back yards, the alleys and the scrubland all but untouched by road builders or residential developers. So these days, when almost everyone owns a car and the freeways are jammed with trucks, it’s easy to forget about railroads.
But the region’s first man-made circulation system still grips the Oregon country like a steel octopus. And the trains still deliver raw materials and finished products that touch every part of residents’ lives.
At the same time, a quiet revolution has been sweeping the rail industry. The big railroads, “Class I” in rail parlance, have lost interest in serving the branch lines, selling off routes no longer profitable for them. Twenty short-line railroads have taken up the slack in Oregon, offering flexibility and service to customers all along the routes — to the point that they now haul about 50 percent of the rail freight in the state.
Among the short lines, the Portland & Western is in a particularly good position, serving more than 100 customers along 447 miles of track — both owned and leased — that stretch from Astoria to Beaverton, then south through the Willamette Valley to Salem.
Melbo was nestled in the right seat of the locomotive’s cab, conductor Scott Sampson sitting on the left, as the train pulled out of St. Mary’s. Three gondolas loaded with pungent wood chips, along with a boxcar loaded with hardwood panels, made up the train.
Approaching a grade crossing at barely 20 mph, Melbo blew the whistle in the prescribed pattern: two “longs,” followed by one “short” and one “long.” Cars generally seemed to heed the warning reluctantly, almost playing a game of chicken before finally stopping.
“You wouldn’t believe how many vehicles dash across the tracks at the last minute,” said Sampson, checking the “switch list” of additional freight cars to pick up. “Some of them even go around the crossing-gate arms.”
When the train reached the Beburg Siding, Melbo eased off the throttle and stopped. Sampson hopped out to uncouple the cars, then threw the switch so Melbo could back into the siding and couple with the nine cars waiting there, loaded with lumber.
Melbo pulled forward, then backed up again to re-couple with the original four cars before easing the train down the line.
“We’re little today,” Melbo said. “Usually, we have 40, 45 cars.”
So the train continued on its journey, first running parallel to Oregon 217, then to Interstate 5 — under Oregon 99W in downtown Tigard, past Durham Station to the Tualatin River, under the Newberg Branch Bridge, then past the old Tonquin Substation.
In short order, the train would chug through Wilsonville, then cross the trestle over the Willamette River and push into the broad open reach of the Willamette Valley farmland.
When the train unloaded at Albany, it would haul a string of freight cars for another run north.
The railroads never sleep.