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The East Broad Top Railroad:
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I arrived late, around noon. I missed the speeches but did find
No. 15 getting ready to turn a packed seven-car consist on the wye. No. 14 arrived
soon after with a train of open cars, followed up by a caboose. That train, too, was packed.
No. 14 dropped her train on the siding by the shop, then came back
to the coal tipple to refuel.
Eventually No. 15 arrived with the regular 1 p.m. passenger consist,
and the two locomotives traded places. No. 14 left with the train.
No. 15 repaired to the engineyard.
I can never resist shooting at the Blacklog Creek bridge. The angles are
just too dramatic to pass up.
Besides the local homecoming festivities, which were being held in the field
across from the station, there was plenty to look at on the railroad property.
These two speeders made periodic runs from Meadow Street to the far end of the yard
during the afternoon. (I'm not a speeder expert. Can someone identify them for me?)
Another nice innovation was a display of old tourist-era photos in the station kitchen,
including an picture of a train draped in black bunting in memory of Roy Wilburn.
Early in the afternoon someone was up on the roof of the foundry,
applying fresh tar. Me, I'm not sure I'd go up there...
No. 14, in fine voice, pulled the 3 p.m. train to Colgate Grove.
Stanley Hall, the E.B.T.'s general manager, stood guard on Meadow Street
as No. 14 backed the passenger consist onto the coach track.
After the 3 o'clock train came the homecoming parade, featuring many pieces
of emergency equipment, past and present homecoming princesses, and tractors, both
farm- and lawn-sized. Meanwhile, No. 14 got her lanterns filled for the evening runs.
(There's nowhere else to say this, and it needs to be said: The hot-sausage sandwiches
from the concession stand by the roundhouse were especially good this year. I went back ...
well, never mind how many times.)
Smoke, fading light, and a poorly-set digital camera produced a ghostly shot
of No. 15 on the turntable lead.
As the 6 p.m. trains were being made up, No. 15 waited on the coach track
with the regular passenger consist as No. 14 came up through the yard and whistled
traffic to a stop so she could back to the train of open cars, which I rode. I always forget
how much genuine E.B.T. soot the open cars let you carry home -- on your clothes, in your shoes,
in your hair, even in your ears. Not that I'm complaining.
