remagen
Member
Last Friday, my cousin and I uprooted ourselves from our several-month stay in Kansas City to once again get our boots back on the road. We each found a place to store our few respective belongings, then had our friends drive us to the Neff Yard hopout before exchanging hugs and goodbyes. We were to planning catch the IDUSE during its C-C and make our way to Portland, Oregon.
A tag at the Neff Yard jungle, Kansas City, MO
As a wiser man than I once said, "Impatience often begets more waiting". After lying in mosquito-infested foliage by the tracks, we caught the first IM that came on a crew change, despite it not matching our ID and not being identified on the radio. After being settled down for so long I was so eager to catch out that we bagged the first ride we found. This train would end up being the ZG4LB out to LA and we had to get off in Herrington, KS, which took us a quite off course. As it stopped near a rural overpass we disembarked to sleep for the night. Around noon the next day we began thumbing to try and reach Marysville, KS, the first crew change location for KC trains heading onto the Overland. This nice lady, Rachel, a former hitchhiker herself, drove us to Junction City, then we got a ride all the way to Marysville from a real chiller named Nate, who not only bought us a case of beers for the road, but let us drink 'em in the car! We ended up having to wait here for a day before a North Platte-bound IM arrived.
A cozy sleep spot by the tracks in rural Kansas. KC-bound loaded coal waits under the prairie sky.
Thunderstorms set in while riding under a 53' can.
Severe thunderstorms began to set in as we rode towards North Platte. About five miles east of town, our train stop. I heard on my radio scanner that the storm began developing into a tornado and that the yard would be shut down until it was safe to proceed. As the situation palpably worsened. My cousin and I opted to bail off the train and attempt to flag down a car to bring us into town. We ran off of the tracks and onto the road where a few cars had pulled over due to the poor driving conditions. The first parked car saw us and immediately drove away (not sure if I can really blame them). The next driver coming down the road ended up driving us to a Casey's where we caved on some of their pizza, in honor of Stobe (RIP). The next day we made our way to the west run-through yard where we saw an IM string. We found a nice deepwell with plenty of room for the both of us and as our string started to roll we looked at each other ecstatically, believing we had easily conquered one of the most daunting yards a rider could attempt.
If only we knew how wrong we would be.
Our smiles faded as our train started to slow and then reverse. We lacked clear situational awareness as we laid low to avoid detection but we watched ourselves get lined up over the hump on google maps. I was downright baffled. Since when do they hump intermodal trains? Let alone one that was lined up for departure. Now us two oogles were getting rolled down the hump, getting knocked on our asses as additional cars slammed into us. We ended up sitting in Bailey's WBD hump yard, as oblivious carmen switched cars around us. We ended up sitting in this well for damn near 5 hours, waiting for an opportunity to escape. As dusk fell over the plains and the sky dimmed. We made a break for it. We would wait for the coast to be clear, running across the fields and climbing strings in between myriad, byzantine yards and sidings through the labyrinth that is Bailey Yard. Miraculously, we managed to flee the yard without getting seen or called in.
Hiding in a deepwell in the WBD hump; The sun sets over Bailey Yard, North Platte, NE; Two oogles pose infront of a sign.
The next day we waited for an IM to roll in for crew change, making sure we saw the FRED before we hopped on. We rode out, planning to take it to at least Green River. The ride went smoothly as any, until we were just 25 miles west of Cheyenne. I heard on the scanner that a worker on the road spotted an open can on the train! (Aren't they supposed to inspect these things at North Platte?) Several work trucks started to follow the train. scanning it to find the can as the train came to a stop. Upon hearing this, I immediately shoved my bag under my well's walkway and laid as low as I could. Unfortunately, the swarm of trucks chasing our train spotted us. I was ordered to get off the train and promptly did so. I started running east, not really knowing where I was out in the remote prairie. I heard the workers call me in to the sheriff on the scanner so I started frantically searching for a place to hide. When the workers' eyes were off me I crossed the tracks and found a post office, a tiny, single 8' x 10' room for P.O. boxes which was surprisingly unlocked. I managed to avoid the cops, (luckily, the few bewildered locals who came in for their mail decided not to rat me out). My cousin, on the other hand, got a real lucky break. He knocked on the door of the first farmhouse he found, Bob Dylan style. The owner let him in, let him shower, made him food and then gave him a ride (God, I was so envious). They picked me up from the post office and we drove to the interstate, where we hitched a semi-truck ride to Green River, WY.
We got a bite and filled up on water before trekking to the WBD hop spot. We ran into a couple other dirty kids and exchanged greetings, (Worm, if you're reading this, I hope you guys made it to Oakland!) soon after, the IG4SE rolled in and we each bagged a well. Having enough food and water for the 2-day ride, we opted to stay on until we got to Portland, not wanting to deal with any more bullshit.
This was my first time riding UP out to Portland and my God, it was one of the most beautiful routes I've taken.
Here are some pics I got on the UP Portland subdivision.
A tag at the Neff Yard jungle, Kansas City, MO
As a wiser man than I once said, "Impatience often begets more waiting". After lying in mosquito-infested foliage by the tracks, we caught the first IM that came on a crew change, despite it not matching our ID and not being identified on the radio. After being settled down for so long I was so eager to catch out that we bagged the first ride we found. This train would end up being the ZG4LB out to LA and we had to get off in Herrington, KS, which took us a quite off course. As it stopped near a rural overpass we disembarked to sleep for the night. Around noon the next day we began thumbing to try and reach Marysville, KS, the first crew change location for KC trains heading onto the Overland. This nice lady, Rachel, a former hitchhiker herself, drove us to Junction City, then we got a ride all the way to Marysville from a real chiller named Nate, who not only bought us a case of beers for the road, but let us drink 'em in the car! We ended up having to wait here for a day before a North Platte-bound IM arrived.
A cozy sleep spot by the tracks in rural Kansas. KC-bound loaded coal waits under the prairie sky.
Thunderstorms set in while riding under a 53' can.
Severe thunderstorms began to set in as we rode towards North Platte. About five miles east of town, our train stop. I heard on my radio scanner that the storm began developing into a tornado and that the yard would be shut down until it was safe to proceed. As the situation palpably worsened. My cousin and I opted to bail off the train and attempt to flag down a car to bring us into town. We ran off of the tracks and onto the road where a few cars had pulled over due to the poor driving conditions. The first parked car saw us and immediately drove away (not sure if I can really blame them). The next driver coming down the road ended up driving us to a Casey's where we caved on some of their pizza, in honor of Stobe (RIP). The next day we made our way to the west run-through yard where we saw an IM string. We found a nice deepwell with plenty of room for the both of us and as our string started to roll we looked at each other ecstatically, believing we had easily conquered one of the most daunting yards a rider could attempt.
If only we knew how wrong we would be.
Our smiles faded as our train started to slow and then reverse. We lacked clear situational awareness as we laid low to avoid detection but we watched ourselves get lined up over the hump on google maps. I was downright baffled. Since when do they hump intermodal trains? Let alone one that was lined up for departure. Now us two oogles were getting rolled down the hump, getting knocked on our asses as additional cars slammed into us. We ended up sitting in Bailey's WBD hump yard, as oblivious carmen switched cars around us. We ended up sitting in this well for damn near 5 hours, waiting for an opportunity to escape. As dusk fell over the plains and the sky dimmed. We made a break for it. We would wait for the coast to be clear, running across the fields and climbing strings in between myriad, byzantine yards and sidings through the labyrinth that is Bailey Yard. Miraculously, we managed to flee the yard without getting seen or called in.
Hiding in a deepwell in the WBD hump; The sun sets over Bailey Yard, North Platte, NE; Two oogles pose infront of a sign.
The next day we waited for an IM to roll in for crew change, making sure we saw the FRED before we hopped on. We rode out, planning to take it to at least Green River. The ride went smoothly as any, until we were just 25 miles west of Cheyenne. I heard on the scanner that a worker on the road spotted an open can on the train! (Aren't they supposed to inspect these things at North Platte?) Several work trucks started to follow the train. scanning it to find the can as the train came to a stop. Upon hearing this, I immediately shoved my bag under my well's walkway and laid as low as I could. Unfortunately, the swarm of trucks chasing our train spotted us. I was ordered to get off the train and promptly did so. I started running east, not really knowing where I was out in the remote prairie. I heard the workers call me in to the sheriff on the scanner so I started frantically searching for a place to hide. When the workers' eyes were off me I crossed the tracks and found a post office, a tiny, single 8' x 10' room for P.O. boxes which was surprisingly unlocked. I managed to avoid the cops, (luckily, the few bewildered locals who came in for their mail decided not to rat me out). My cousin, on the other hand, got a real lucky break. He knocked on the door of the first farmhouse he found, Bob Dylan style. The owner let him in, let him shower, made him food and then gave him a ride (God, I was so envious). They picked me up from the post office and we drove to the interstate, where we hitched a semi-truck ride to Green River, WY.
We got a bite and filled up on water before trekking to the WBD hop spot. We ran into a couple other dirty kids and exchanged greetings, (Worm, if you're reading this, I hope you guys made it to Oakland!) soon after, the IG4SE rolled in and we each bagged a well. Having enough food and water for the 2-day ride, we opted to stay on until we got to Portland, not wanting to deal with any more bullshit.
This was my first time riding UP out to Portland and my God, it was one of the most beautiful routes I've taken.
Here are some pics I got on the UP Portland subdivision.
