On the first Sunday in June, Randy Williams stood at the train station in Yacolt and explained that everyone who keeps the train running on the Chelatchie Prairie Railroad has more than one job.
“Well, it’s nice if you do more than one,” said Williams. A smiling, mustached resident of La Center, Williams is president of the nonprofit Chelatchie Prairie Railroad Association that’s been operating the heritage railroad for decades.
For instance, Kerry Barton, a board member who handles the group’s advertising, donned a pair of brown overalls and heavy-duty boots to help operate the train. She’s licensed to work as what historically was called a fireman, or stoker, on the group’s steam engine.
“Now she’s a brakeman,” said Williams, using another traditional job title.
“She’d be a good conductor,” added Jerry Jacobus, another board member who served as the train’s conductor Sunday.
“I’m also the painter,” Jacobus added, mentioning the caboose that’s recently been given a bright orange coat of paint rather than the traditional red. Williams said someone picked the wrong color, but no one seems to mind.
After all its passengers were aboard, the train let out three loud toots to signal its departure for the 14-mile round trip along the fern- and tree-lined rail line.
As the train huffed and puffed to life, Will Pickering, its engineer, sat in front of a panel of switches and levers. He kept a close eye on the gauges that monitor the oil levels and other vitals of the train. In the corner of the locomotive’s diesel-scented cab was a very tidy pile of rags, oil cans and degreaser.
Nearby was a broom, blackened from cleaning, and a half-eaten submarine sandwich.
Pickering said the diesel locomotive on the four-car train began life as a workhorse train, switching cars in a train yard in Los Angeles in the 1940s. He said it was later brought to the Pacific Northwest by a company that leased railroad equipment and was donated to the nonprofit after it pulled out of the market.
Most locomotives have 4,500 to 6,000 horsepower, said Williams. He said this one has only 1,000 horsepower but that it’s enough to pull the four cars that bounced and squeaked along the track.
Armed with a Snapple bottle, Williams gave a tour of the train that included a restored first-class passenger car from the early 1900s and a refurbished metal livestock car that now is lined with benches for passengers. Chained to his striped overalls was a round watch that looked like it was also from the early 20th century.
Clipped to a button on his overalls was a set of big bronze keys for the train and a smaller key for the “highly coveted executive washroom” (or outhouse).
Williams explained that this rail line used to haul lumber and passengers from Yacolt until the Great Depression hit. Since then, it’s switched hands multiple times and is now owned by the county, which leases part of it to the Chelatchie Prairie Railroad for educational and entertainment purposes.
Now, the nonprofit offers rides to the public.
These rides sometimes feature staged robberies by Old West bandits. Others include trips to a nearby winery. In the winter, it has special Christmas trips, complete with a visit from Santa, who has suspicious similarities to Williams.
“We want the families to feel like you can bring the kids back again,” he said.
Therese Reynolds, a resident of Ridgefield, came out with her son Zachary for a ride. She said the train ride is something she’s known about for a while but had never done until now. She said she figured it was a good day to take out her son, who recently had a birthday.
“I just turned 4!” exclaimed Zachary, who enjoyed the tunnel. “It was so, so dark! I couldn’t see anything!”
After the train stopped for a break at Moulton Falls Regional Park, Barton stepped out from the caboose.
“I used to be station and track crew,” said Barton.
“It’s better than going to the gym,” replied Williams.
Williams said the work of the railroad’s track crew can be physically exerting, particularly for its mostly retired volunteers. He said the crew will walk the line and make sure it’s maintained, tapping rail ties with a steel pole. If they sound hollow like a watermelon, it means they’ve been eaten by worms and have to be pulled out by a tie-exchanging machine.
Keeping the old railroad running is a labor of love performed entirely by volunteers. Williams said he’s always looking for more volunteers.
“I double their pay all the time,” he said, jokingly.
