Not just a train ride, THE train ride

By BEN OLSON/for The Herald  —  After 5 years of talking about it and two aborted attempts, the train ride finally happened. The stars and planets aligned, and Mick Garvin and I were able to ride on Amtrak’s finest, right through Oakridge and Westfir. Twice before we had bought tickets and drove to Chemult, only to be texted by Amtrak that the train was running hours late. So late that we wouldn’t have gotten to Eugene in time to catch the returning train. Unless that was running late, as well.

On its face, what we were doing was folly, something that only people with too much time and money on their hands would do. Guilty, as charged. Since I moved to Oakridge, this is something I’ve felt that I had to do. I have run up and down Highway 58 a zillion times, catching glimpses of the trains running parallel to the road.

I’ve watched the trains passing high on the bank from the porch of my Salt Creek cabin. I felt the rumble of the engines in the bungalow we stayed at, a block from the tracks uptown two years ago. I hear the moan of the whistles coming from down in Westfir, over the hill in Oakridge, and up the valley from the Dunning Road crossing.

I realize that the main purpose of the tracks is to haul freight, and there’s no freight to haul out of Oakridge anymore. The Union Pacific is indulging Amtrak by allowing them to haul passengers on their tracks. 

I don’t know the history, but Oakridge dropped the ball when they ceased to be a stop for passengers. The fact that Mick and I would have to drive 60 miles to Chemult to board a train that travels through our town is crazy. The alternative would have been to board the train in Eugene. We’d be somewhere in central California right about now.

It was a lovely drive to Chemult yesterday. As we got on the highway, I received the text, letting me know that the train would be picking us up at 10:36 a.m., rather than the scheduled 9:00. That allowed time for a leisurely breakfast at a greasy spoon just up the road from the station. The 10:36 arrival eventually took place at 11:15. Porters grabbed our bags and helped us onto the train.

Wait, that was something I saw in a black and white movie. We boarded and proceeded to the observation car. We were rewarded with some amazing views as we headed down the hill. I counted 21 tunnels and caught sight of numerous cascades and waterfalls. From the train, you get to see a lot of backyards- no one intentionally situates their house to face the tracks. 

After about 3 hours we passed through Springfield and then into the station in Eugene. Getting off the train, we went to an amazing used bookstore a block away. Sometime in the future, I will be spending an entire rainy day searching for books that have eluded me. Our vantage point to watch for our return train was the Jackalope Lounge, a stone’s throw away from the boarding platform. The pleasant weather created quite the festive atmosphere at the tables outside the Jackalope. 

The train taking us back to Chemult was right on time. I guess trains have a lot more opportunity to be late coming from Los Angeles than they do from Seattle. 

We arrived in Chemult in time to catch a brilliant sunset on our drive back down the hill to Oakridge. 

If I were filming a diversity public service announcement, I could have used my fellow passengers on the train as my subjects. There were people from all walks of life, all ages and visitors from countries around the world enjoying the experience of seeing America from a train. 

The day turned out to be everything we expected, and more. I know that I’m speaking for Mick, and many other Oakridgians and Westfirians, when I say, “let’s work on getting the trains to stop at Oakridge again.” Sure, it would probably be great for our budding tourist industry. More importantly, it would allow Mick and I a chance to visit the bookstore and have a pint at the Jackalope before heading back up the hill on the 5:15.