In Washington State’s Cascade Tunnel, it’s time to reach for the air packs if the ventilation fails. It happened to me on one of the only times I recall running with mid-train Distributive Power (DPU’s).
It was a call for the Everett to Spokane manifest or as we called it, HEVESPO. The “H” stood for high priority. In the field, we would joke it was a higher price for normal handling. We started our call at Balmer Yard and deadheaded north to Everett’s Delta Yard. We took the power out of the roundhouse and over to the yard. We set the DPU’s over to the yard lead and pulled the first track out to double-over to the DP power. I set up the “dupes,” so I had control on the road power. The yard crew at Delta placed the second cut of cars to fall behind the DP’s. That way when we had the train together the DPU’s were cut-in three-fourths’ deep in the train for proper train handling.
Running them through the computer screens, I could operate the DPU’s to do exactly like the headed-end road power or run them independently, this is what we referred to as putting up the “fence.” This is better than running manned helpers, and I didn’t have to talk to anyone except myself.
The trip started as another uneventfully boring trip, however that only lasted until the middle of the Cascade Tunnel. This train had aluminum ore on the headend and a mixed bag after that. The special instructions for moves like this read, in part, “Eastward trains handling aluminum ore must not exceed 15 mph between bay 11 and bay 6, at bay 6 train must gradually reduce their speed by not exceeding 10 mph between bay 4 and the east portal, advising the dispatcher as soon as the engines clear the east portal.”
I was happy we were moving along at 14 mph climbing the 1.58% grade inside the tunnel, doing close to the 15 mph limit I needed at Bay 11. Because I had the train running smoothly, I was looking down at my desk doing paperwork and not looking out the front window. Chris, my conductor, looked over at me and said, “Hey Mike, it’s really getting smokey in here.” I looked up then over to the speed. We had dropped to 12 mph.
I replied, “The units are getting warm and likely derating themselves, no worries.”
Five minutes later Chris again called my attention to the smoke. I looked at the speed again. We had dropped to 9 mph. Now, this got my attention. At the same time we were passing Bay 11, the midway point in the Cascade Tunnel. Bays 11 and 4 have repeater lights that flash alternately to indicate the tunnel fans are working. The lights were not on, I also then noticed none of the 21 bay lights were lit. I told Chris to get his self-contained breathing apparatus (SCBA) —basically fire department Scott Air Packs — ready. For whatever reason, the power was off in the tunnel. We had no ventilation or radio commutations with the outside world. We were on our own.
I told Chris I would pull the train as far as I could. At Bay 7 the locomotives had enough. I set the air, and we stopped. I shut down all the locomotives. We started working on a plan. I had Chris go back and cut the power away from the train, I started only the lead unit to pull ahead to make the cut and had Chris close both knuckles, so if I rolled back a few feet it would not remake the hook. Once Chris got back on the lead unit, we left the train and DPU’s behind and headed for the east tunnel door. Since the air packs were good for only 40 minutes, we stopped at Bay 4 and grabbed two more air tanks.
I never had a tougher time seeing if the tunnel door was up as we got to it. I was running so slow it felt like we were suspended in time. Luckily, the door was up. I pulled the locomotives outside the East Portal next to the fan house and stopped. Before I could get my air tank mask off, Seattle East was calling us. Charlie the longtime third trick dispatcher was working, he said, “Hey Mike, they (management) want to know how much of the train you have with you?” I replied, “We’re light power”
Charlie, with a slight chuckle, said, “That’s what I told them you would probably do, but they still wanted me to ask.”
To make a long story short, the fan house at Berne, Wash., had taken a lightning strike, and when the backup generator failed (failed twice, actually), the tunnel lost power. The result was another exciting day at work.
