Our adventure steaming over the Montana Rockies continues on volume two of the Westbound Trip.
We'll visit the small farming community of Huntley, the Custer Battlefield Monument,
Billings, and all points along the route to Livingston.
We'll visit the Livingston Depot with side trips to Chico Hot Springs and Yellowstone
National Park.
Our journey west will continue with stops in the old railroad town of Logan and Clarkston.
We'll climb the grade to Spokane Pass and into the capital city of Helena.
Then up the steep 2.2 percent grade to the top of Mullen Pass.
On the way back down we'll visit the Helena Elliston Lime Mine and stop in Gold Creek
where we'll take a side trip to the ghost town of Pioneer.
We'll overnight in Missoula and take a visit to a carousel for Missoula and the historic
old Milwaukee Road terminal.
We'll also see a variety of old steam farming engines and one of the last surviving electric
locomotives off the old Milwaukee Road.
Then climb the steep grade to the Morant Trestle, Hoover Everoe Pass, and through the gentle
Jocko River Valley.
We'll take a side trip to the Mission at St. Ignatius and then along the Flathead River
for some of the most beautiful scenery of the entire trip.
There's lots of wildlife in Volume 2 including tranquil scenes of farming, old barns, abandoned
cabins and a side trip to the historic Kootenay Lodge out of Big Fork, Montana.
Of course there's lots of big steam excitement, tremendous sound and gorgeous scenery that's
shot off the front of the locomotive.
It's an all new adventure story for the whole family and one you'll want in your collection
as Skyfire continues steaming over the Montana Rockies.
Steaming up the New River Gorge is set against magnificent fall colors.
You'll discover the fascinating story of Thurmond where the only way in and out of town was on
a railroad track.
People would come in on the train with briefcases of money, just come get a Thurmond to gown
and get back on the train and go back to Chicago or New York or wherever they come from.
Really?
Yes sir, right here in Thurmond.
We'll take you inside the Great Bend Tunnel where John Henry beat the steam drill down.
You'll visit an old log cabin and hear the authentic sounds of West Virginia.
I'm just as fond of beauty as any man can be.
Those rosy cheeks and pearly teeth I dearly love to see.
I know one that has them and she's a beauty too.
Oh she is the sweetest girlie and she's got the money too.
Now won't I love my honey lord, yes.
And won't I spend her money.
Ain't it a sin to time as happy as a flower that sits the falling dew.
Cause I've got a brand new girlie and she's got the money too.
Side by side with the crew, you'll fire up the giant 2765 steam locomotive, rebadged
in Chessy colors.
Skyfire's broadcast cameras are all over the locomotive, delivering mile after mile of
breathtaking excitement.
From the oilers to the boiler, this video rocks the rails with the full sound of the
engine.
If you enjoyed watching Daylight Express, wait till you see Steaming Up!
The New River Gorge, available right now from Skyfire, America's video story teller.
I joke about it by saying if you're over 60 miles an hour, it's the most fun you can
have with your clothes on.
Instead of putting your laptop down early, hurry up and jump onto that grapes.
The true story of an epic high rail adventure across Idaho and Montana aboard the world-famous
Montana Daylight Passenger Train and featuring the crew and their fully restored steam engine,
the SPNS 700 Baldwin Locomotive. Steaming over the Montana Rockies is dedicated to the memory
of Don Wheeler, a remarkable man who was the guiding force that molded the Pacific Railroad
Preservation Association and the all-volunteer crew that maintained and operated the SPNS 700.
Don Wheeler passed away on the day the 700 and her crew left for Montana. He had worked hard to
help his mates prepare for this epic sojourn. A few years earlier, I had spoken with Don in the
roundhouse as he helped Will Stettler overhaul the valves on the 4449. Quite an interesting
experience to work on a steam engine. They're big, they've got a lot of moving parts and you
don't have parts available so you have to make everything. It comes about, steam engines haven't
been made since about 1956 or so and you can't find parts for them. You don't just run down the
local store and pick up steam parts. It's a challenge but we have the experience around here
that various individuals, we can keep them running and that's the main thing. Don was an avid coffee
drinker. The mere mention of the word tea would just send him into fits. So right then and there
started the rivalry. Every chance I got, I'd wave a teabag under his nose or I'd threaten to put a
teabag into his coffee cup. Of course he got even too. I walked in the door one time and they used
to have a wood stove over there and I'd have my tea kettle on there, heat and water. One time I
walked through the door, him and I forget who else it was, had that tea kettle and they were starting
to pour steam cylinder oil into it. And he said it was the only thing fit to drink besides coffee.
And so that that rivalry, friendly rivalry, it was a funny one, but that rage till the day he was
gone was coffee versus tea. And I was an avid tea supporter, he was avid coffee. And boy every chance
we got with each other, we'd just dig each other about coffee. You know he'd go into this funny
little fit, I'd wave the tea bag and he'd go like it was just the most terrible thing in the world.
That never did resolve that one. I was adamant tea, he was adamant coffee. That's the way it stayed.
I think if you succeeded in getting the oil out of your tea kettle, I'm not sure you would have noticed the difference.
Well the coffee that was created, you couldn't tell that it was between it and steam cylinder oil.
We'd meet more of the crew later. The 700, which was domiciled in Portland, Oregon, had traveled over the
Burlington Northern Santa Fe line to Sandpoint, a quaint town in northern Idaho where our adventure
was about to begin. Sandpoint was a historic railroad town and home base to Montana Rockies
Rail Tours, a regularly scheduled passenger train with service connecting to Yellowstone National Park,
Glacier National Park, the Custer Battlefield Monument, and a myriad of famous visitor attractions
such as Chico Hot Springs that were spread throughout Montana and southern Canada.
The beauty of the countryside, combined with exceptional turn-of-the-century service aboard MRRT's
fully restored Streamliner passenger cars, had earned the prestigious Travel Riders Five Star Award
for Excellence as the best railroad passenger train in all of North America.
We would be following the historic route of the Northern Pacific Railroad over many areas that had first been explored by the Lewis and Clark Expedition early in the 1800s.
Our excursion would be the first time in almost 50 years since steam motive power was abandoned on the NP
that a steam locomotive had pulled a passenger train over this historic route. Everyone was quite enthusiastic to be underway.
While they made ready the engine, I decided to take a look around the area.
Sandpoint was best known for Switzer Mountain Ski Resort. It was nestled on the shores of Lake Ponderay,
a large glacial lake left over from the last ice age. It was also home to the Coldwater Creek brand of fine-wearing apparel.
Sandpoint had numerous shops and fascinating visitor attractions such as the old historic powerhouse,
but the town had come a long way from its humble beginnings.
Fur Trade and the Northwest Company first brought commerce to the region in 1809 out on the Hope Peninsula,
with such an abundance of freshwater, fish and forage, beaver and otter were plentiful along the numerous inland waterways of present-day Idaho and Montana.
It wasn't long before the vision of joining the populous East Coast with the abundant natural resources of the West Coast took hold.
Four different railroad companies competed for the right to bring rail service to the region.
They brought in cheap Chinese labor to clear and grade the tracks. Using rock drills, black powder, picks and shovels,
they cut through hills and bored through mountains with hard rock tunnels.
Where they couldn't find land, they built bridges and elaborate wooden trestles out of 12 by 12 beams cut from nearby forests.
Now, because rivers such as the Clark Fork had already cut somewhat gentle pathways through the rugged mountains,
many of the rail lines were laid right next to the riverbed.
Road beds were blasted open and chiseled out by hand from solid granite cliffs along Montana's highly glaciated canyons.
It was a time of enormous cultural and financial transition, from teepees covered with animal hides to horse-drawn wagons and the steam-powered iron horse.
We will never know the hardships endured nor sacrifices made by both men and women as they opened this wild and charted territory.
This was the way Sandpoint Trestle over Lake Pendere looked in April of 1887.
The trestle looked much the same in present day, with the exception that now it had concrete piers instead of wooden pilings.
Sandpoint once looked like so many frontier towns in the West. In this photo taken in 1895, false front buildings lined both sides of the streets.
But in the middle sat the Northern Pacific Depot.
In those days, the railroads were the lifeblood of any town that hoped to survive to the next century.
On the east side of town at Kootenay Junction, where Montana Rockies rail tours kept their trains set,
was the one-time location of Northern Pacific's elaborate car shops.
Steam locomotives and rolling stock required a great deal of maintenance in those days.
And right next door was the old Northern Pacific Roundhouse and Turntable.
This was the busy yard at the Humburg Lumber Company. It was built on both sides of the track at Kootenay Bay.
And now this modern subdivision covered the spot where the lumber mill once stood.
But over in the weeds alongside of the track, if you look closely, you could still find the remnants of what had once been the old historic Humburg Lumber Mill.
The next morning at Kootenay Junction, preparations to get underway had been going on since 4 a.m.
Red sky at morning, sailor take warning. To the east, dawn rose like a ball of fire in the sky.
The Spokane Portland and Seattle, call the SPNS 700 for short, was the third largest operating locomotive in the world.
If there was any doubt about its enormous size, one needed only to walk forward from the tender up to the 72-inch drive wheels.
By any measure, this was one big locomotive.
While the steel drivers had been capable of sending her to speeds of almost 100 miles per hour on eastern Washington's flat terrain,
this Baldwin locomotive originated as a Northern Pacific design.
It had been engineered with sufficient tractive effort to pull up the steepest 2.2 percent grades, just like the ones we'd be crossing in Montana.
Behind the 700's tender was Doyle McCormick's auxiliary tender, filled with extra water for making steam.
Everyone referred to it as the water bottle.
By today's standards of silicon chips and bubble memories, a steam boiler heated by a hot fire was a relatively low-tech system,
comprised of heat, water, steam and steel.
On the other hand, we had lost all the big Ford shops and foundries that could produce a 440-ton cast steel locomotive like the 700.
Gone, too, were the service shops, tools and personnel who knew how to keep steam locomotives operating in regular service.
And that's why this relic from the past was so admired and lavished with no small measure of human affection.
Everything on this locomotive was built massively.
Her bell was solid polished brass with a bright red striker.
The name board was simple, while her stack was masculinely blunt and to the point.
Every valve, every stay bolt, fairly begged to be photographed.
How could something with so much brute force be so delightfully elegant?
It was big, powerful, even dangerous.
Soaked in black pin grease and lubricating oil, this hot, fire-breathing steam behemoth sparked the imagination of the young,
but it also brought back fond memories for those who still remembered going down to the station to catch the train.
Of course, everyone knew about the famous 4449 Daylight, the giant Union Pacific Challenger,
Fort Wayne's classic 765 off the Nickel Plate Road and the big Southern Pacific 2472 engine.
But the 700?
It had languished about in the Portland Roundhouse for years in the shadow of its famous red, white and blue compatriot.
No one really knew a great deal about the 700, but I had a feeling that this trip was about to reveal one of the best kept secrets that was licensed to get up steam.
The train crew made last minute adjustments to the locomotive's air pumps.
To me, it looked like they were having far too much fun.
It was late autumn, the most beautiful time of the year.
Leaves on the quaking aspens high in the Bitterroot Range were changing color.
So were the needles on the tamaracks, the only tree whose needles turned from green to yellow in the fall.
Then the tamarack would shed its needles, just like a broadleaf tree.
New needles would grow back in the spring and the tamarack would once again look like an evergreen tree.
Kootenay Junction was the staging area for Montana Rockies Rail Tours.
Like most rail yards, there were a variety of wheel sets, trucks and spare parts lying about.
Montana Rail Link engineer Bob Bateman, shown here on the left, had been pulling MRRT's passenger trains across Montana for several years.
Bateman and the Montana Daylight's chief mechanical officer Ken Keeler and his staff had assembled the passenger train cars the night before so they were set and ready to roll.
Her hot steam rose magically into the morning stillness.
Sunlight backlighting the steam cast fascinating shadows against nearby trees.
Gary Martin with the Fedadora hat was one of Skyfire's camera operators.
Bob Heddeke was his sound man and assistant.
Gary and Bob had rigged the train for video and sound.
Up on the right side was one of Skyfire's POV cameras, hard mounted to the boiler.
That was the backup camera.
Our primary pan and scan camera was a 16x9 widescreen digital beta system.
It was hidden up under the front of the locomotive and operated by Strap-On Guy, the world's smallest camera operator.
Can you see him?
Haha, see there? I told you he was small.
Montana Rockies Rail Tour coaches were bringing in the passengers while the 700 crew shot pin grease into the bearings to keep the running gear lubricated.
Now that lady was Linda Vanderbeck.
No doubt she was one of the few women you'd ever see working about on a steam locomotive as part of the crew.
Now even though the locomotive was hot, look what was hanging off the bottom.
Icicles!
It was cold alright.
Uh oh, they were putting on the gloves.
Our rail adventure was about to begin.
Three short blasts.
That's how the engineer signaled his ground crew that the train was going to move in reverse.
The cylinder cocks were wide open, making those steam spouts on each side of the locomotive.
Once the steel heated up to the same temperature as the steam, the cylinder cocks would be closed.
The locomotive would be hooked to a Montana Rail Link helper diesel for safety.
The diesel was controlled from inside the cab of the 700 and would only be used for dynamic braking or if the 700 lost her footing on one of the steep grades.
And then like David Copperfield, the 700 slowly disappeared into a white veil of steam.
When it re-emerged, we would be on our way.
As the 700 pulled out onto the main line, it encountered slippery track that was wet with steam condensation.
Momentarily, she lost her footing on the track.
We had no sooner cleared the yard when our lens picked up its very first bug.
Our cameraman out on the front of the engine was apparently asleep at the switch.
Over the course of three days, we would traverse northern Idaho and travel east, crossing over the Montana Rockies to Billings on Montana Rail Link track.
All train moves between Sandpoint and Billings were under the command and control of MRL's modern computerized dispatch center in Missoula, Montana.
On the first leg of our journey, we were leaving Sandpoint and following the shores of Lake Pendere through the towns of Hope and Clark Fork, crossing over the Clark Fork River and up the south side to the Cabinet Gorge Dam on the Idaho-Montana border.
We would continue along the Cabinet Gorge Reservoir through Herron, Noxon, Trout Creek, White Pine, Belknap and up through the towns of Thompson Falls, Plains and into Paradise, where we would service the engine.
Out in front, we were clicking off the miles on seamless welded rail.
The weather was turning out to be something of a mix bag.
It had rained the night before our departure. The weather was forecast to improve.
Just ahead was the Pack River Delta.
Every turn brought magnificent, unexpected vistas.
Moose were known to frequent this swamp, but look as we might, the only antlers we could see were in the treetops.
aking
We started onto a causeway over a mile in length.
On one side, the Pack River Delta and on the other, Lake Ponderay.
This is the way that same trestle looked one bright sunny morning in 1883 off Sunnyside
Point.
The little engine in the foreground had a wood-burning boiler.
Eventually, all the wooden pilings were covered, but to this day, they still remain buried
down under the very roadbed we were crossing.
Lake Ponderay was an enormous body of water, purportedly one of the deepest lakes in North
America.
Now, see all the wires?
The train passed through the first of what would be numerous rock slide fence detection
systems.
Out on the lake, jet skiers were having a ball.
Hey, senior, I think you lost your passenger.
On the outskirts of Hope, we passed a westbound freight that was waiting in the hole for us
to pass.
Hope was a sleepy little town alongside the tracks, but it wasn't always that way.
Hope was a main thoroughfare for those crossing Lake Ponderay.
Northern Pacific locomotive number 334 was pictured in this 1891 photo in front of the
beanery.
These men were posed on May 17, 1890 in front of the old Lakeview Hotel and the Prescott
Lodging House.
The hillsides in Hope were so steep that the streets were 300 feet apart.
In those days, most men wore hats.
Some were workers, but many were clerks and merchants, as we could see by their suits
and ties.
It was very rare not to be sporting a mustache.
Almost all were immigrants, and the look of rugged determination was written across each
and every face.
The Highland House was a popular resort built in Hope by the Northern Pacific.
People came from as far away as Bute to stay here.
These steamships were moored just off the shoreline of Hope and showed the respectability
this small town once enjoyed.
Hope was by every description a very prosperous community, but a community that faded with
time along the tracks of the Northern Pacific.
We were now on the other side of Hope, or as Operations Manager Mike Phillips said,
we were beyond Hope.
Hmm, yes indeed.
The natural beauty of this region had no equal.
It was as wild and uncharted as the day it was first discovered.
At the far end of this swamp, up in the top of the tree, was an osprey nest.
And that irritating sound?
Well, meet Mr. Squirrel, who was scolding me from the safety of a nearby tree branch.
He was one unhappy camper.
We crossed over the Lightning Creek Bridge and blew through the town of Clark Fork, Idaho,
ahead on the left side.
Clark Fork was a small little town that survived off the abundant recreation of the region.
In its heyday, Clark Fork had its own depot where folks came down to catch the Northern
Pacific or meet arriving guests.
The importance of the railroad to these towns was immeasurable.
Just outside Clark Fork, we crossed over the Clark Fork Tressle, the longest tressle on
the MRL line.
The Clark Fork River was now on our left side, and in the distance, those were the canyons
of Montana at the state line.
The river valleys along the Clark Fork were rich and fertile, an ideal setting for agriculture
and farming.
Down below the track, they were laying up hay in the fields.
You could already see snow in the foothills.
Winter wasn't all that far away.
Inside the cab, engineer Jim Abney had the throttle pulled back.
Fireman Terry Thompson was watching the gauges to make sure he had all the steam pressure
we needed to climb the hill, and away we went.
The
It was about this time that MRL pilot engineer Bob Bapin figured out that our fuzzy microphone
was live and turned on.
Is that recording too?
You're not recording it.
This ain't recording it.
Oh yeah.
It's not recording in here is it?
I mean we've been cussing up like a storm in here.
So much for secrets Bob.
As we approached Cabinet Gorge, the rocky canyon walls were severely glaciated.
And this was the Cabinet Gorge Dam, a hydroelectric marvel on the Idaho-Montana border that held
back the Clark Fork.
Before the dam was built, the river had carved its way down through solid granite rock to
create magnificent Cabinet Gorge.
Just ahead was a 365 foot Cabinet Gorge tunnel.
On the other side, we would pass the dam and enter into Montana.
Jim Avney had the 700 talking as we walked up Cabinet Gorge Reservoir.
We passed through Heron, Montana, named after the blue Herons that once lived along the river.
Once again, we had crossed the Clark Fork.
Knoxham was just ahead.
Back in the dome cars, the passengers were enjoying the view.
The sun was shining, the vistas were breathtaking, and the streamliner coaches were regal and immaculate.
They had several chefs on board preparing hot meals that made our cameramen want to stop shooting and start eating.
Fresh flowers, white linen tablecloths, all served by the nicest young people from Montana and Northern Idaho.
If you were going to take a relaxing trip to Yellowstone or Glacier National Parks, it just didn't get any better than this.
We slipped out of the forest along Knoxham Reservoir.
Though it was mid-October, the grasses and many of the trees were still green with summer.
The train continued along the shoreline, making for Trout Creek along 26-mile Knoxham Reservoir.
Riding along in the shadow of the rugged Bitterroot Range, the beauty of this country cleverly masked one of the most catastrophic events that ever happened on the face of the earth.
And it happened right here in Montana.
During the last Ice Age, icebergs marched down through the glaciated Clark Fork River Valley until they hit the granite rocks at Cabinet Gorge.
Where man built the Cabinet Gorge Dam is where nature also built a dam.
But it did it out of icebergs, which were stopped by the imposing granite cliffs.
Then torrential floods on a scale such as man has never witnessed came pouring off the melting icebergs.
The flood water backed up in a lake over a hundred miles long, filling this river valley all the way to the top as far as the eye could see.
It was called Lake Missoula.
When the iceberg dam broke and lifted, the volume of water released down this valley swept away all of the topsoil from the entire state of eastern Washington.
So enormous were these releases of water that when they got downstream to Oregon, they carved out the Columbia River Gorge from solid volcanic basalt rock.
The flood waters were so deep, it is estimated that they covered the entire present-day city of Portland, Oregon several hundred feet in depth and washed back over a hundred twenty miles, creating another huge lake in Oregon's Willamette Valley.
And so it was that one of the greatest natural disasters of all time started against these ice-scraped cliffs and glaciated valleys right here in Montana's Clark Fork River Valley.
Back on the train, we were making good time.
Just ahead, we would cross through the imposing Clark Fork Ridge.
The 700 was clipping right along.
Around each turn, the scenery was ever-changing.
No two vistas were alike.
The passengers were naturally enjoying the scenic ride.
But as beautiful as it was, they hadn't seen anything yet.
It was late morning.
The clouds had rolled back in this area, giving way to Montana's famed big sky.
There was hardly a breath of air.
The crystal clear waters were smooth as glass.
Trout were feeding near the surface just off the shoreline.
Apparently, they were not bothered by the tremendous sound of our engine.
Along the upper reaches of Noxon Reservoir, the 700 was really knocking them off as it climbed up through tall stands of timber.
Originally the Northern Pacific Route, now owned by Montana Rail Link, this was clearly one of the most scenic railways on the North American continent.
Just ahead was the Trout Creek Trussle.
Trout Creek, Montana lay on the other side of the creek.
Trout Creek, like so many towns in Montana, was small and comfortable, home to a few now known to many.
Up on the front of the locomotive, our cameraman, strap-on guy, was having a pretty rough ride of it.
The torque from those big steam cylinders was pitching that 400 ton locomotive around like a beach ball on a seal's nose.
We drifted along, taking in the beauty of the countryside as we forged through Childs, Montana.
On the railroad, this was the halfway point between Sandpoint, Idaho and Missoula, Montana.
Even though the clouds had started to close back in, it was still pleasantly warm and sunny.
Another nice day to go rolling down the road on the Montana Daylight.
We broke out of the forest into beautiful pasture land in Belknap, Montana.
Moving along at a pretty good clip.
Greg Vanoi, our aerial cameraman from Las Vegas, sat down quickly in the field behind this big barn so he could catch the train coming out the other side.
Wow, isn't that a nice shot.
Uh, Greg? Hello, Greg?
It's getting pretty quiet out there, Greg-o.
Well, I have to explain. You see, Greg was one of the new boys.
He got so excited about the train coming that he suffered a common malady we all have come to know as deer caught in the headlights.
So, what did happen to the sound, you ask?
Greg, my man, tell us, please do. Just what did happen to the sound?
Oh, forgot to plug in the microphone cable, did you?
Don't you just hate it when that happens.
This photo, taken in the late 1800s, showed the original track construction at Belknap.
We sure come a long way.
Once again, we crossed over the Clark Fork River. The town of Thompson Falls lay just ahead.
Thompson Falls, Montana, named after explorer, fur trader, astronomer, and cartographer David Thompson, who established two trading posts in this region in 1809.
Thompson's maps were so precise and accurate that they were still in use a full century after his death.
He first established Coley Spell House on the Hope Peninsula, where local Indians and trappers brought and traded fur pelts in exchange for provisions.
The name Coley Spell was later modified and used as the namesake for the town of Kalaspell, Montana.
The trading post was a piece-on-piece structure, a common design used by the Northwest Fur Trading Company.
Before the dam was built, Thompson Falls was a prominent feature on the Clark Fork, plunging 60 feet down over the rocks.
Thompson established his second trading post here and called it Salish House.
The nearby Thompson River also bears his name.
David Thompson was the first white man to chronicle the Bad Rock Trail, over which the Salish, Kootenai, and Blackfeet tribes fought for control.
It was reported to be the most treacherously frightful trail in all of Montana, and was later crossed by Jim Bridger, Jedidiah Smith, and John Mullen.
David Thompson was also the first to discover Lake Ponderay.
The literal translation of Ponderay means earring in French.
Today, the lake still looks much as it did when David Thompson first stepped onto its uncharted shores in the mists of 1809.
There are monuments to David Thompson all over Idaho and Montana.
Some feel that were he not from Canada, David Thompson's unsung achievements as an explorer and mapmaker would have approached the same prominence earned by the Lewis and Clark expedition.
David Thompson was called Cuckoo Scent, the man who looked at stars.
We pulled through Thompson Falls heading east for Wild Horse Plains, Paradise, and the glaciated canyons of the Clark Fork River.
Following the historic Northern Pacific Line, we were about to pass through some of the most scenically spectacular canyon lands on the North American continent.
Music
Music
Music
Music
Music
Just ahead was Plains, Montana. The canyon here was much wider and featured grasslands upon which Indian ponies once grazed, earning it the original name of Wild Horse Plains.
Later, it was shortened to Horse Plains and finally just Plains. That's pretty plain, so plain I could even understand it.
There were several historic structures in Plains, including this original old schoolhouse dating back to the 1800s.
This old rock jail measured just 10 feet by 12 feet. Imagine spending a night inside that jailhouse.
Sound of water running
Sound of water running
Sound of water running
Now, if you ever wanted to know what Paradise might look like, in Montana, this was Paradise, a wide spot on the broad road of life.
The 700 came to a stop in Paradise for a full service. As they greased the engine and took on more water, I found out what these seasoned railroad men, the all-volunteer crew of the 700, actually did in real life.
What do you do? I work for the telephone company. In normal life, what do you do?
Well, recently retired as a real estate property manager.
You're still?
Yeah, I retired as a federal employee with Forest Service.
I work at Portland State University in structural engineering.
Jim?
Well, of course, I've been the treasurer of this group for I don't know how many years now, and of course that falls back to my background. I'm an accountant for the state of Oregon, retirement system.
I was doing ship repair work when I'm retired now.
You're doing ship repair work? Wow.
I'm a little part of engineering for a hemp track.
That's someone in the railroad.
Actually, only two of us from the group are rails.
Really? John?
I'm a musician with the Oregon Symphony Orchestra.
And what do you play?
I play French horn.
Your dog's blowing us on the horn.
I'm a receptionist for one of the Kaiser dental offices.
I work for the Oregon Department of Transportation in the highway division.
I work for Bonneville Power Administration.
I'm a television news photographer, corrections counselor for the Millenia County Sheriff's Office.
And I'm a voice and synthologist.
He gets a lot of good stuff.
He gets a lot of business.
As we traveled east from Paradise, we would continue following the Clark Fork along Montana Rail Link's 4th Subdivision,
forging through numerous tunnels and over several river crossings through St. Regis, Spring Gulch, Superior,
Cedars, Westfall, Rivulet, Sear, Lothrop, Nine Mile, Frenchtown, Schilling, and finally into Missoula,
where we would overnight the train.
The High Line up through the Jaco Valley branched off to our left.
It followed along the pristine banks of the Flathead River through the towns of Dixon, Ravalli, and Arleigh.
It was an area of Montana known to be teeming with wildlife.
We'd explore that remarkable territory on the westbound trip.
But now, we were taking the low line, which followed along the Clark Fork River, all the way to Missoula.
On the far side of the bridge, in a tangle of high voltage lines and guide wires,
a magnificent nest made of limbs, twigs, and leaves had been built atop a power pole.
Overhead, an osprey circled the waters of the Clark Fork around the bridge,
looking for its afternoon snack, a fresh trout.
Once the 700 started onto the bridge, the osprey would no doubt hightail it for safer ground.
Music
Music
Music
Music
Music
Music
Music
The wide river valley had narrowed.
The canyon walls were steep and rugged as we picked our way along the riverbank.
The canyon walls were steep and rugged as we picked our way along the riverbank.
The canyon walls were steep and rugged as we picked our way along the riverbank.
The scenery was simply breathtaking.
The sound of the locomotive was nothing short of spectacular.
One crossing after another, through the canyons, we went back and forth over the Clark Fork.
The sound of the locomotive was simply breathtaking.
Wild hollyhocks were growing near the track as the 700 climbed up through the canyon to
St. Regis.
We passed through the town of St. Regis, a community perched on the banks of the Clark
Fork.
Just ahead, two of the old-style semaphore block signals.
Not too many were still in use on railroads anymore.
It was here in St. Regis where the old Milwaukee Road had crossed over the top of the northern
Pacific tracks.
A dark rusted steel hulk of its massive trestle was all that remained.
For the passengers riding the Montana Daylight, every turn along the Clark Fork presented
exciting new vistas.
I'm getting ready to fish.
This canyon carved out by the Clark Fork was as ruggedly majestic as any canyon I've ever
travelled
We were about 65 miles out from Missoula and going through Spring Gulch.
The town of Superior lay just ahead.
The clouds had closed back in and it was starting to rain.
This was the town of Superior, Montana, the official seat of Mineral County.
As a town, Superior had always been an important mainstay along the Northern Pacific right-of-way.
With granite cliffs on our right and the river down on our left, we blew through cedars and
westfall on the way to rivulet Montana.
As we crept along the hillside, the roadbed became noticeably narrow.
The river, far below, a huge granite rock, too large to blast open, was bored straight
through on the side of the cliff.
With the steel wheel flanges our only protection, we picked our way slowly across narrow cantilevered
tracks pinned to the underside of the bluff.
After 440 tons of steel testing the strength of every beam, we marched out precariously
across high wooden trestles that spanned over plunging rock chasms.
Holding our breath, we passed over ancient glacial ravines with names like Ice House,
Quartz Creek and the Rock Chute.
Over the side, the icy cold waters of the Clark Fork lay hundreds of feet below.
It was a marvel of Northern Pacific engineering clinging to the granite headwall high in the
rugged Bitterroot Range.
The sun broke through the clouds just before rivulet.
The bright open meadows were a welcome sight.
It was grassy with a
Through the trees, we followed closely along with the 700.
He was the third largest operating locomotive in the world, having little difficulty in
these mountainous canyons of Montana.
And then, with the shiny silver coaches of the Montana Daylight in tow, we crept out
onto the Fish Creek Trestle.
Suddenly, two white-tailed deer sprang onto the track.
With the tremendous sound of the steam locomotive, they sure didn't waste any time making for
the bushes.
As we broke out of the canyons into the open near Frenchtown and Schilling, the 700 steam
plume cast a long afternoon shadow across the grassy fields.
We had started before daybreak in Sandpoint, Idaho, followed the shores of Lake Pendere,
crossed into Montana and upped the Cabinet Gorge Reservoir through Thompson Falls to
Paradise, and then along the Clark Fork River to St. Regis and Superior.
And now, the shadows were long and all hands were tired.
We were glad to see the city limits of Missoula, Montana.
But who could know what adventures tomorrow would bring just beyond those mountains as
we steamed across the Montana Rockies?
The next morning dawned upon a much brighter day.
Missoula and the University of Montana campus were still deep in the shadows of Mount Sentinel
as our helicopter crew headed toward Hellgate Canyon and the Clark Fork River.
On the return trip, we'd get better acquainted with Missoula.
The first half of our day we would travel east out of Missoula following the rugged Clark
Fork past Bonner, Macquarie, Nimrod, Baremouth, Drummond, Gold Creek, through the tunnel to
Garrison, then along the Little Blackfoot River, through Avon and Elliston, up over
Blasberg and Mullen Pass, and into Helena, the state capital of Montana.
Before we left town, I spoke with Marcia Pilgrim, the president, CEO and founder of Montana
Rockies Rail Tours, about why she enjoyed riding the train.
I did lots of long distance trains, starting when I was 10 or 11 years old, and was fascinated
with the big depots, just the sounds of the train.
All I could ever afford was a coach seat, but that was fine.
They were big and they reclined.
Probably when I was about 14 or 15, ventured into a dining car.
I thought it was just the most exquisite thing I'd ever seen.
I spent the whole $20 that my mother had given me for the summer with my grandparents, on
meals in the dining car for two days.
It was money well spent.
Can't sto Jenncyan.
Sunlight glistened off the polished steel rails as the 700 pulled for Hell's Gate Canyon.
We were traveling on MRL's third subdivision between Missoula and Helena.
The track crossed over a series of trestles and truss bridges laid down in the canyon.
We passed under I-90. The ground was saturated with morning dew, making the rails and the truss bridges cold and damp.
In the foothills, the tamarack pine were already changing color. The feeling of fall was in the air.
The tree branches on the side of the track fairly glistened with dancing beams of sunlight.
Up ahead, it looked as though we were about to tangle with a serious fog bank.
Residual moisture hung thick in the air, clinging to the treetops in the narrow canyon.
Our helicopter couldn't fly in the fog. This could spell real trouble.
Framed against the horizon, it felt as if we were traveling back over time to a no-man's land.
The fog was clouding the camera lens, keeping our cameraman out on the nose quite busy.
The streams in Montana were ideally suited for catch-and-release fly fishing.
We were passing some of the finest trout fishing waters in the world.
The higher we climbed, more thick became the fog bank. It gave us a feeling of mystery,
almost as if we had been transported back to prehistoric times when giant dinosaurs and great-winged birds
dominated this very place on the North American continent.
Then came the crushing force of the ice as the polar ice cap marched down from Canada
and into the very spot we were crossing.
The ice carved out these river valleys more than 10,000 years ago.
The fog gave rise to an eerie feeling.
Imagine what it might have been like back then when this was a cold, icy deep freeze.
Winds swept, barren, lifeless, no trees, no grasses, and no running water.
Just ice. Cold, hard ice as far as the eye could see.
Fortunately, you and I would never experience that period in Earth's evolution.
But what remained in its wake was the pristine beauty of this once uncharted land.
The helicopter crew watched from high overhead
as we forged through the tunnel at Nimrod.
And there on the right was all that remained of the old Milwaukee Road.
The 700 came around the bend of the road.
The 700 came around the bend with the Regal Montana Daylight Coaches.
They had just cleared the cut at Baremouth and were pulling for the graded drummin'.
On the freeway, a group of rail fans were racing the engine with their cars.
It was a pretty steep grade.
The 700, along with MRL's helper diesel, were both working hard to pull our train up the hill.
The fog had burned off as we charged through the cow town of Drummond.
Gold Creek and the ghost town of Pioneer lay to the west. We'd explore those historic places on the westbound trip.
The Garrison Tunnel was just ahead as we rolled along the silver rails on this bright, sunny morning.
On the east side, we listened to the sound of the engine as it came through the tunnel.
Air pressure, created by the movement of the cars through the tunnel, sucked all the smoke and vapors out the east side.
It looked downright eerie.
And then, like holy thunder, the 700 came out from behind the trees, black smoke and steam shooting from her stack hundreds of feet into the air.
The lights all went through, whether it was recorded or not.
Once the truck had had a few harmon demonstration stages before the electric train rode over the area.
We had left behind the Clark Fork and now we were following along the Little Blackfoot,
one of the prettiest freshwater streams in all creation.
We were rolling up the road toward Mullen Pass. Just ahead was a quiet little town built on the
tracks of the northern Pacific. Yes, this was Avon, Montana, a town cosmetically untouched by the
ravages of time. Once, drovers brought their cattle to market and loaded them out right here.
On northern Pacific cattle cars, there were several quaint buildings in Avon. Just a nice
place to visit. Uh-oh, big dog, gotta go! We left Avon rather abruptly and continued up the
grade for Elliston. We had started to climb up a 1.4% grade that would top out at Blossburg on
Mullen Pass, the top of the Rocky Mountains and the Continental Divide.
Natural springs flowing out of catch basins farther up the mountain came to the surface
as they ran down the hillsides. There were thousands of acres of open range pasture land
where cattle grazed on the autumn grass. Up ahead, a black heifer had picked the wrong time to cross
the tracks. This is the reason why in the early days they call the front of the locomotive the
cow catcher. Blossburg, the top of the world here on Mullen Pass. It was also the uppermost
ridgeline of the Continental Divide. And just in case you don't believe me, strap-on guys zoomed
in so you could read the sign for yourself. We were 5,548 feet above sea level. Yes, sir. No,
the excitement just didn't stop. For now, we were going to start downhill through the tunnel,
named after pioneer explorer John Mullen. On the other side of the mountain waited the
Austin Gulch Trestle. On the rear of the train, the Montana Daylight cars were just coming on
to the trestle. Sure hope everyone wouldn't rush to the same side and look out over the edge. As
we continued down the mountain, the rock formations were unusual. This was the dry eastern slope of
the Rockies. Halfway down the mountain above Austin, the train went into an amazing S-turn.
It was so sharp that passengers on the rear of the train could wave to those on the front.
We rolled down through Birdseye and Tobin. We were coming off a steep 2.2% incline. Coming
back the other direction would be a real climb. The train station in Helena was dominated by a
huge clock tower. Several people had come down to the tracks to watch the 700 pass through town.
On the vestibule was Marsha Pilgrim and John Kirkwood, owner of the opulent Glacier Park
and Bella Vista Coaches on the rear of the train. We take a closer look at Helena on the westbound
trip. From Helena, we'd continue east through Placer, Winston, Townsend, Tostin, through the
isolated Missouri River Canyon, past the historic ghost town of Lombard, Trident, Logan, Manhattan,
Belgrade, and into Bozeman. We were now on MRL's second subdivision between Helena and Sperling.
We were already into our second day of traveling across Idaho and Montana. In that time, we had
less than a handful of slow orders related to dangerous or unstable track conditions.
It was a real tribute to the men and women who maintained all the trestles, bridges,
tracks, and crossings on Montana Rail Link. Clearly, they took great pride in this railroad
and MRL, Montana's railroad, obviously took pride in them.
On the west side of Townsend, Montana, we crossed over the wide Missouri.
We flew through the last town of Tostin, Montana, before entering the mouth of the Missouri River Canyon.
Now, here was a beautiful spring that came out of the bank just above the river. It was
called Mammoth Springs. I looked real hard into the water, but I didn't see any woolly mammoths.
There were numerous mudflats and deltas along the river, making this waterway an ideal
environment for wildlife and migratory birds. I had been told that fishing up here in Montana
was nothing short of fantastic. Why, there was a young water whipper now.
Montana Gold Passengers were sipping ice-cold beverages and watching the world slip by from
their luxuriously appointed quarters on the rear of the train. The canyon walls were steep and rocky,
almost giving an illusion like we were down inside the mouth of a crater.
We landed the helicopter way up on a rocky bluff
and watched as the train picked its way up through the canyon.
On June 27, 1925, the Missouri River Canyon and nearby towns were shaken
by an enormous magnitude 7 earthquake. The wall of this church in Three Forks collapsed,
as did the wall of what was then the new community high school in Manhattan.
In the canyon, the tracks were made impassable by massive rockslides which tumbled down off
the canyon wall. To this day, high above the tracks, you could still see when the massive boulders
came to rest after crashing down the mountainside from the Clarkston Valley earthquake of 1925.
The rusty looking bridge was all that remained of the old Milwaukee Road Trestle that once
crossed the Missouri. This was also the site of Lombard, Montana, a booming railroad town in its
day where the northern Pacific and the Milwaukee Road crossed in the canyon. In its 1890s heyday,
Lombard had a two-story hotel, taverns, livery for care of horses, tacks and wagons, and other
necessities of that era. Oh, a few foundations still remained, but to the greatest extent,
Lombard was no more. No more than a memory along the side of the railroad track, deep in the Missouri River Canyon.
At the east end of the canyon was Trident, Montana, site of a large cement plant. It was called Trident
because 1,200 feet to the east was the headwaters of the Missouri. Three rivers, the Gallatin,
the Jefferson and the Madison, all flowed together to form the Missouri. For the remainder
of the afternoon, we would follow along the graceful banks of the Gallatin.
We watched as the train pulled the grade and up onto the plateau.
Around the next turn, it would be a 17-mile high-speed straight shot through Manhattan and Belgrade into Bozeman.
The 700 was laying down a good smoke screen across the Gallatin Valley and through the town of
Manhattan. Manhattan was a quiet farming community where everyone knew each other and nothing new went unnoticed.
And then, with a squished bug on our lens and a song in our hearts, we blew off the doors through Belgrade.
It was late in the afternoon. The sun was low on the horizon and the city limits of Bozeman were coming into view.
The reciprocating gear on the side of the locomotive really had a workout. The passengers
were headed for another great dinner at one of Bozeman's many fine restaurants. The train crew,
well, they'd be up late into the night greasing the engine and making it ready for the final day's run.
With the sun setting over the Gallatin Valley and the old Bozeman terminal,
we brought to a close our second day of steaming over the Montana Rockies.
Early the next morning, pilot engineer Bob Bakeman climbed on the front of the locomotive to switch her onto the main line.
As they were getting ready, I spoke with Montana Rockies Rail Tours Chief Mechanical Officer, Ken Coldwater Keeler.
To see the looks on kids' faces when they see something that they've never seen like this before
and it's belching steam and smoke and, you know, that's one of the great things that makes it all worthwhile.
From Bozeman, we would travel east, up and over Bozeman Pass, through Muir, Livingston, Elton, Kearney, Big Timber,
Greycliff, Quebec, Reed Point, Craver, Columbus, Rapids, Park City, Sperling, Laurel, Moss Main and in to Billings.
There was a lot of dust in the air from cars passing by on a nearby dirt road.
As the locomotive climbed the grade, we watched as the tires momentarily lost traction on the damp, wet rails.
High up on the mountainside at a place called Chestnut, huge granite plutons jutted defiantly into the sky.
Those granite outcrops were likely several million years older than the mountain range upon which they were perched.
Once, those rocks had been molten pockets of lava far underground.
It took thousands of years for them to cool and solidify into hard granite.
Then, when this mountain range was up thrust, it pushed those old plutons up to the surface from the deep underground.
Over millions of years, the topsoil had been eroded from around the rocks.
Until now, they stood out like isolated sentinels on the side of the mountain.
It was dark and shadowy down in the canyon.
The rocks made this pass exceedingly narrow.
Freeway and railway both ran side by side up the mountain.
The SP&S 700 was pulling the weight of the SP&S 700.
The SP&S 700 was pulling the weight of the SP&S 700.
The SP&S 700 was pulling the weight of the SP&S 700.
Suddenly, the steel drive wheels slipped on the track.
Suddenly, the steel drive wheels slipped on the track and began to spin uncontrolled.
They cracked open the throttle on the helper so the 700 could gain back her footing on the steep drain.
It was quite a climb up Bozeman Pass.
If you looked closely at the front of the locomotive, you could see the enormous torque of the pistons rocking 440 tons of steel backing forth from side to side.
The unbridled power of a steam locomotive was truly remarkable.
The fastest running movingII engine in the world.
The front of the train had reached West End.
The long Bozeman Tunnel was waiting at the top just around the bend.
Captain Clark of the Lewis and Clark Expedition had crossed this very pass in 1806.
The original railroad tunnel had been abandoned some years earlier.
The mind could only imagine what might be lurking down inside that dark, wet hole in
the mountain.
And there it was, the Bozeman Tunnel.
A railroad shortcut straight through the mountain.
The tunnel was 3,015 feet long inside and was all sloped downhill.
On the other side of the mountain, we could hear the 700 working hard inside the tunnel,
where almost 50 years of black diesel residues had collected on the ceiling.
Seems the crew had neglected to shut down the steam engine and let the diesel carry
them through the tunnel.
All the soot, black oily grime, bats, rats, creatures that went bump in the night were
blasted off the tunnel's ceiling and then fell back down onto the train.
No offense lady, but a light wasn't the only thing we were about to see come out of that
tunnel.
For when the Montana daylight went in, she was clean as a whistle.
And when she came out, oh, Murgatroyd, was that one dirty train.
Well time to leave, enjoy.
Oh, Marsha Pilgrim, what happened to that pretty silver blue train of yours?
It looked like something the cat struck in.
And when we arrived in Livingston, I looked up and I was afraid.
I was afraid.
Just covered in black soot.
We went through every cleaning towel we had.
We were down using bath towels.
The vestibules were coated.
One of the porters brought to my attention after the passengers in Montana Gold had disembarked
from their sleeping quarters, that you could actually see outlines of some of the bodies
in the bed.
Soot.
Soot-covered sheets.
We're coming around a right-hand turn to it.
I looked up and here's the tunnel.
Jim knew that we were getting close to it, but he had seen on the mound above the tunnel
all these people up there.
A lot of them, you could tell they were making sound recordings.
And he didn't want to ruin their sound recordings.
So we stayed in full tilt going right into the tunnel.
At that point, I had the pressure right up.
It just looked like it was in danger of lifting the safety valves.
I knew that would be disastrous in the tunnel.
So I was, as we were going into the tunnel there, I'm focused on getting the injector
started to get the pressure down.
The first try at it, the injector wouldn't start.
It needed to be primed a little bit longer.
So we're in the tunnel by that point.
I'm priming the thing.
So I was totally focused on that.
And some boys in there then revved up the diesel and slowed down the, closed the throttle
on the steamer, and I didn't catch it.
I was totally focused on the injector.
I did get the injector started on the second try, and that was a good thing because lifting
the safety would not have been good in there.
But as a result, we did something else that wasn't too good either, although it wasn't
as disastrous as lifting the safety would have been.
Oh, I don't know.
By the time I realized that's what happened, I closed the fuel valve down, but it was too
late then.
We were making lots of smoke right there.
As we went through the tunnel, I got cleared up.
I could see clear, I could see clearly ahead by that point, but the trouble is the whole
train had to be dragged through this big cloud of, plot of this.
And it just filled up the whole train.
I saw us going into the tunnel.
I thought it was going to be another short tunnel like we've been through before, and
within five seconds the smoke was just all over the place.
And so I ran inside the door, and it was too late.
He just let all the smoke in here.
Let all the smoke in.
All you can see is the white of his eyes.
He comes in, and he's standing there, and you're like, JD, what happened?
And then all of a sudden he disappeared.
I mean, this car filled up with smoke so fast, it was like, where'd he go?
And then he just went back in.
And then he just went back in.
And then he just went back in.
And then he just went back in.
And then he just went back in.
And then he just went back in.
And then he just went back in.
We had a VIP riding in the cab with us.
I didn't know who he was.
His name was John Kirkwood, correct?
And he's the owner of a couple of real nice dump cars, the Veltavista and I believe also
the Glacier Park.
Yes, and the third sleeper there.
Anyway, he was riding with us, and after we got out of the tunnel there and things are
kind of okay and everybody's wiping the soot off their faces, the first thing I did was
I went over to John Kirkwood and apologized and shook his hand, expecting him to be not
real happy about going through that experience.
But he just laughed.
He thought it was a great experience.
And I patted him on the back and told him it was a good sport, and when I did that,
the soot just flew off.
The train passed through Livingston, gateway to Yellowstone National Park.
We'd explore Livingston, Yellowstone and Chico Hot Springs on the westbound trip.
Jim Anthony hauled back on the throttle and away we went.
The 700 with the Montana Daylight in tow crossed over the Yellowstone River near Craver,
Montana.
Just ahead, we'd stop and service the engine.
You could always tell when men were at work, especially the engineer.
Hey, don't drop your glove.
Uh oh, oil spill.
Better get the grease police.
You could always tell when men were at work, especially the engineer.
Now, here's a riddle.
How can you tell when the tender is full of water?
Why, when it looks like this?
A little shower, little shave, good as new.
You could always tell when men were at work, especially the engineer.
Yeah, it was time to hit the road and get the heck out of Dodge.
At Columbus, everyone was awaiting our arrival.
The
Montana Daylight made her final push out of Mossmain for the yard at Billings.
Billings, Montana, our journey was all but over.
With a gloved hand on the brake, Jim Anthony brought the locomotive to a stop, ending our
adventure steaming over the Montana Rockies.
For Skyfire, America's video storyteller, I'm Jim Mitchell.
Thank you for watching.
If you would like to know more about this incredible weekly train trip aboard the Montana
Daylight, you can call or write Montana Rockies Rail Tours at the number on your screen.
Now, you can experience the same opulent service that once was the epitome of luxury travel
by rail.
Every week throughout the spring, summer and fall, there are two departures, eastbound
and westbound, behind a modern MRL diesel locomotive.
Would you like to visit Glacier National Park, Yellowstone National Park, the Custer Battlefield,
the Tetons and many other exciting destinations along the route?
Now you can relive this same travel adventure.
It's a safe, affordable travel experience for the whole family with packages tailored
for every budget.
Give Montana Rockies Rail Tours a call toll free or call your travel agent and see how
easy it is to enjoy this same magnificent rail adventure aboard the Montana Daylight.