Time stops -- and so do passers-by -- as steam train chugs along

For centuries the world had moved at the speed of horses -- no faster than in Roman times. Steam power changed that.

N.S. NOKKENTVED

Originally published October 16, 2001

There's more than one way to get out and enjoy the outdoors in South Sound.

And one nostalgic way is the quaint steam train that runs out of Chehalis on summer weekends.

Though I had intended to ride this train all summer, I barely made one of the last runs before the train shut down for the winter.

On a lazy early fall afternoon, the steam whistle signaled the beginning of a journey back in time, through bucolic countryside that doesn't look a lot different from the day this venerable locomotive was built. That was a time when trains such as this were not just a curiosity, hauling tourists and railroad buffs on a weekend afternoon's distraction, a time when trains such as this had to work for a living.

And work they did. This part of Washington has a rich history of logging trains, pulled by small, powerful steam engines, hauling huge, ancient trees out of the woods. That's not the only part steam trains played in history.

For centuries the world had moved, essentially, at the speed of horses -- no faster than in Roman times. Steam power changed that.

With the steady roar of freeway traffic in the background, a plume of steam rose as the Chehalis Centralia Railroad's No. 15 pulled away from the unpaved parking lot that, for now, serves as the station, with a tender and two cars in tow.

For a moment the sound brought back childhood memories of riding the train from Copenhagen with my brother and my parents to visit my cousins and my mother's childhood home out in the country. Blowing smoke and cinders, the train rolled past farms and fields and country villages of whitewashed houses and red-tiled roofs.

Chehalis-Centralia's Engine No. 15, a 2-8-2 configuration oil-fired steam locomotive, was built in September 1916 by the Baldwin Locomotive Works in Philadelphia. It has been making a couple of trips each day on weekends and three on Saturdays -- with a dinner train on special occasions. Tickets are sold in an old caboose.

No. 15 pulls across the Newaukum River just upstream of where it joins the Chehalis. The rails continue west on the south side of the Chehalis, winding through this pastoral valley past picturesque old barns, through woods and across creeks.

The engineer whistles at the crossings of country lanes, small roads and state Route 6. We chugged past Holsteins that chewed their cud and hardly gave us a look, but children stopped their play to wave from backyards and motorists stopped at crossings waved -- some got out to take a picture of the 85-year-old locomotive.

The train continues to a siding in Milburn, where the engine changes to the other end of the train and the return trip starts. On longer trips the train continues up the river to Ruth.

Feel the magic -- the hiss of steam, the uneven rhythm of the locomotive, the clack of wheels on the rails. Oil glistens on polished steel parts that move in an intricate mechanical dance, turning steam pressure into well-greased forward motion.

Inside the coach, a snack bar serves drinks and light snacks. Outside in the open gondola, smoke and steam mingle with falling leaves, and occasional water droplets condensed from the steam hit my face.

In a timeless moment, we roll through the beautiful Chehalis River Valley bathed in honey sunlight.

N.S. Nokkentved covers the outdoors for The Olympian. When he's not out riding the rails, he can be reached at 360-754-5445.

The Olympian Copyright 2001

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