Cascade Tunnel
Destination Unknown
Cascade Tunnel
Admiral Biscuit
Sweetsong didn’t notice when the railroad changed from single- to double-tracked; she was back in the hole preening her wings when an oncoming freight blasted by, rocking her car with its bow wave. She didn’t think much of it until a dozen or so cars had passed, suddenly remembering that there’d been only one track last time she’d looked.
Wouldn’t it be crazy if we’re running out a passing siding? But of course that wouldn’t happen; there were signals that the crew followed so they’d know what to do, and most of the switches she’d seen on the mainline had been operated remotely so there was no chance of a mistake.
If there was a crash, even though her instincts told her to be out in the open so she could fly free, having all the protection of the steel around her might be safer. If she was outside, a load torn loose from another car might crush her, but the end rails of her car would block it.
Watching the cars on the other train whoosh by, she was tempted to step out of her hole and try and touch them. That was a stupid idea, she’d lose a hoof, and after a string of tank cars blurred past, she concentrated back on her wings, getting her feathers back in order and picking out a few stray pine needles she’d accumulated while waiting for this train.
The train was moving and the bulls couldn’t chase her off while the train was moving, so she nosed her saddlebags open and got out her curry comb. She’d picked up some sap on her belly from the same tree, and it had been annoying her for the last hour.
•••
The double tracks ended while she was in the hole. The train was still running at speed, and her coat was groomed, so she sat on the end platform and watched Washington pass by. The land was grassy and dry, yet there were pine trees clustered around in spots. None of them provided good cover for her, so she kept her head low, wondering if she was less obvious by the slope sheet or the ladder, and wondering if it was worth pulling her army blanket out of the hole to break up her shape.
She decided the slight gain in stealth it might offer was offset by the feeling of wind blowing through her coat and feathers. Medium sneaky was good enough for now.
•••
Her train moved in fits and starts, getting sidelined at nearly every opportunity. Sweetsong spread her blanket out on the floor in the fading light of day, stretched out on it, and pulled the free end over herself. She’d tried a sleeping bag but that wasn’t good for a quick escape if needed. Admittedly, here in her grain car if she got woken up by somebody sticking their head in, she’d have nowhere to go. Still, it wasn’t worth carrying both the blanket and a sleeping bag, it was better to have less stuff weighing her down.
She’d just gotten her head comfortable on her makeshift saddlebag pillow when a passing freight rocked her car, and she wondered if she’d get moving again once this freight passed.
She was asleep before she could get an answer.
•••
She was awake before the sun, her train slowly creeping along a river on one side and buildings on the other. It wasn’t safe to poke her head out, not until the buildings thinned out and she didn’t hear the train constantly blaring its horn for grade crossings.
Breakfast was two granola bars that shared a wrapper, and a few more alfalfa cubes, washed down with a bottle of water.
This car had enough room for a proper morning stretch, and she indulged herself then stuck her head through the hole to take in the scenery.
There wasn’t enough light to be sure, but she thought she could see mountains off in the distance. Closer to hoof, it was all fields and the river, interrupted with clusters of houses, businesses, and factories.
The train trundled across the river on a truss bridge, then the highway, then the river again, like it couldn’t make up its mind which side it wanted to be on.
As the sun climbed, she was sure. Off to the west, she could see the tips of mountains lit by the rising sun, while she was still in shadow, deep in another river valley the train was following. It was disappointing that she wasn’t closer to the ocean; the train had probably kept up its slow pace through the night or it might have even stopped. Usually that would wake her, but not always.
Sometimes trains sat in sidings for hours. If she had a train radio of her own, she could listen to what the dispatcher was saying—surely they’d tell the crew if they were going to have to wait for a long time.
The fields on either side of the track were orchards instead of grains, much to her surprise. She knew Washington was famous for apples, but didn’t think that they grew them in the shadow of the mountains. If these were even apple trees, it was late enough in the year that the crop was off them.
It looked like there were rows of grapevines, too.
Sweetsong was still puzzling it out as the train left the fields behind and went back into a tighter valley, with no room for farms at all. Instead, trees crowded right up to the tracks.
It was risky to move out on the end platform, but she poked her head through the hole all the same, getting a good view of the scenery on either side.
The train was keeping a surprisingly straight course, with no major turns. She’d considered racing her train as it climbed through the mountains; if she was in an open-top car she could fly out and take a shortcut across the mountain and then catch it on the other side.
That would be for another trip; for now, she just wanted to get to the ocean.
•••
The valley widened out, and the train curved west, then crossed a ridgeline into another river valley, running on the edge of a slope, gaining altitude.
There were very few buildings, it was only her and the trees. She stepped all the way out onto the end platform, sticking her head over the edge to get a better view.
Sweetsong imagined how it would look in the wintertime, with a thick blanket of snow covering everything—she’d have to come back this way.
A tunnel caught her by surprise; she had only a moment to register the sound of the train changing, and then she was in it—a downside to the mountains. She flattened herself down on the floor of the car before the light was completely gone, wishing she’d had more warning. More experienced hobos knew the line better than she did. They wouldn’t be in the Amtrak station puzzling over the route map and trying to figure out which tracks went to Seattle.
Now she knew about this tunnel. It was short, and she stuck her head over the edge of the car to see if there was another up ahead, but the curve of the track kept her from seeing.
Sitting on her belly with her head on the side sill wasn’t comfortable, so she got to her hooves and stuck her head over the side just as they crossed over a river. She ducked back as they crossed a road, then moved forward again, looking down the train. There was nothing but trees.
Standing perpendicular to the train was awkward; she had to constantly shift on her hooves to make up for the unpredictable motion of the grainer. It would be easier to go bipedal, and she could hook her hooves over the ladder—
—after the next tunnel.
She hooked her forelegs over the ladder and stuck her head cautiously out over the side, once again looking down the length of the train. There was nobody to see her.
Until the train ran across an overpass, and she clearly saw a surprised driver in a light blue Mustang looking up at her.
Not that there was anything he could do about it. She waved at him as the train carried her back off into the woods.
The track curved north and she saw the level crossing coming in plenty of time to duck back down. The side sills weren’t high enough to completely cover her, even if she crouched, but it made her less obvious, a pink lump on the floor of the car which could be anything.
The train ran past a small town, barely seen through the thick clusters of pine trees, then the tracks curved back around to the west, following the curve of the mountain.
•••
She had to lie down again as the train ran along a state highway, and then they moved apart, and she spent most of the next ten miles standing on the end of her car, like a sailor on the railing of her ship. Around her, a sea of trees, made into waves by the mountains. Rocks jutting through were the foam on the waves.
They passed an eastbound train waiting on a siding; she had enough warning as the train bumped over the switch to get down and tuck herself against the end of the railcar since it would take too long to get inside, and from the crew’s position in the locomotive they wouldn’t have much opportunity to see her.
She hoped; they’d have a radio and could call the other train to have that crew kick her off. If she had her own radio, she could listen and know if she’d been spotted.
As they cleared the passing siding and crossed over another short bridge, she decided that since they weren’t slowing down, she hadn’t been spotted.
Her elation didn’t last long; the train went around a broad S-curve, and with almost no warning, plunged into a tunnel.
As if the darkness wasn’t bad enough, besides the cacophony of the railcars and the throb of the diesel engines echoing up and down the tunnel, something that sounded like a jet started up and a moment later she could feel an unnatural wind in the tunnel.
She wanted no part of any of this, but couldn’t do anything about it now. Her instincts screamed to fly away, to fly to safety, but she couldn’t do that so she blindly crawled back into the hole on the car and curled up with her blanket, pressed against the cold steel that at least muted some of the sounds and gave a false promise of security.
It felt like she was trapped in stygian blackness forever. Whenever she judged a minute or two had passed, she’d lift up her head and look hopefully through the hole, already knowing what she’d see—the sounds hadn’t changed, the train was still in the tunnel.
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Medium sneaky.
The first time youre on a 3 car Sprinter running through the 3 mile plus tunnels either end of the Hope Valley, and they switch one of the engines off because it saves fuel, you tend to worry.
11127940
It’s a decent sneaky level
11128070
Heh, yeah, I hear you there. I’d be worried about that, too.
11128287 Your experience may vary. Both times I've gone to IHOP, the pancakes (which are not a favorite food of mine to begin with) were uncooked in the middle. (In fact, the second time they still had ICE CRYSTALS in the middle.)
if this is the Cascade tunnel i have saw on youtube it is a big long one.
it turns and you pass your self at a different height.
Maybe she should try to get a portable radio for herself.
11128376
Man, you’d think that a restaurant with the world “Pancakes” in their name would at least get that right.
11128941
I don’t know if it’s the one you’ve seen on Youtube or not. The Cascade Tunnel is the longest in the US, but not the longest in America . . . the Canadians built a longer one, I don’t remember where.
Cascade Tunnel does not cross over itself, I think it’s nearly straight through the tunnel. There is a Canadian one the crosses over itself (a spiral tunnel)—Big Hill Tunnel, over Kicking Horse Pass.
11137043
She could, although that’s more stuff for her to carry, and she’ll need a way to charge it and a way to find out what frequencies the railroads are using. Those aren’t insurmountable problems, but it’s probably not worth it for the slight additional security it might provide her.
11137369
There are little pocket radios you can get that run on double A batteries and last forever and a day. There are also solar powered radios as well, that aren’t too big. But the pocket ones are prob better for her.
11227376
Yeah, a really little one might work for her. I don’t know how big the smallest ones are that can get train frequencies, but they’re probably pretty small these days. I just checked on Amazon, and you can get a Uniden handheld scanner that’s five by two by seven inches (I don’t know if that includes the antenna), and runs on two AA batteries. She’d need to get the railroad frequencies, too, but I don’t think that’s too difficult.
¿Where have I heard that?
I wonder ¿how many pegasi? give into their instincts and die because they take flight in tunnels.
11235386
Medium sneaky is a good sneaky value.
Hopefully not too many. It’s something that a pegasus hobo would have to think about before jumping a train.