Legacy of the Chief

19 October 2010

A pipeline construction camp model for the CRD ?

One long-term possibility for the extension of my model railroad is a representation of one of those pipeline construction camps from the mid-70s, such as this one: Five-Mile Camp, just north of the Yukon River.
I have yet to dedicate space for such a project, but I have already considered some locations. This will take a lot of space. I visited this camp in 1976:

Such a project would include a pipe-laying scene similar to those shown in these historic images taken during pipeline construction days:

I will be utilizing these 1:25 side booms--the same type used during pipeline construction days. Currently I already have three of these models on hand.

If and when I build that pipeline camp model, the model camp WILL be serviced by a pipe-hauling railroad. You never knew one existed ? There was one right here in Alaska. More on that in a follow-up post.

Rare shot of the train in Valdez that was temporarily used to distribute pipe during construction days. I knew it was Valdez because I recognized that mountain. Below was the normal mode of delivery of those 48-inch diameter pipe sections:

Below: A second view of Five Mile Camp, just north of the Yukon River (click)

18 October 2010

In Pursuit of the Ghost Train of Tsedi-na, Pt 2

I Leave the Pipeline Project the First Time, 1975

Above: "Two-Street," Fairbanks: Picture was probably taken in the mid-1950s, but this scene had changed little by the time the pipeline construction project began in 1975. This street was lined with bars in those days--most of them almost exclusively Native--both Indian and Eskimo bars. But the pipeliners and military men from the adjacent fort and an Air Force base came down here too. By the mid-80s, most of these bars would be gone. By now, only ONE out of maybe a dozen and a half bars in this area still operates. (click)

Sometime in early summer Alyeska fired its prime contractor Bechtel and took over its function as manager of the pipeline construction. I was among those laid off by Bechtel, but then rehired by Alyeska. However, I looked at the package offered and decided, especially in view of what had already transpired at Franklin Bluffs, that it was time to leave. I had taken time to go into Fairbanks and check in with the main office. We discussed the problems I had encountered with the resident site manager. I had documented the incidents and these were apparently brought to the attention of someone higher up in Alyeska. By the time I returned to camp for my last few weeks as a site counselor, Bob Stiles had been relieved. With him gone, I felt I had accomplished something positive and I sent a letter of resignation to my superior in Fairbanks.

Winter had melted away and I stepped into a beautiful, warm summer in Fairbanks. I was enormously relieved to leave Franklin Bluffs and that thankless job behind me.

When Alyeska moved into Fairbanks, it literally took over the town. It seemed that every other vehicle on the road was an official Alyeska truck. Their main base of operations was the nearby Ft. Wainwright facility. That was also where new pipeline hands checked in and had their orientation, including a video on how to dress in an arctic environment.

One of the effects of all these new people in Fairbanks with all that money was a dramatic rise in the cost of living there, particularly when it came to rental units. They became exceedingly expensive when one could find a place at all. I was fortunate to be able to locate an old cabin on the edge of town, available at a very low price that was being rented by one of my fellow counselors. He was leaving town, so I was able to take over the rent on this place which had no electricity or plumbing. I would soon add power to the cabin, but water would always have to be hauled in and the outhouse was in the back about a hundred feet from the cabin. Living there was much like it would have been at the turn of the century--which was about the age of the cabin.

Although it had a place for a chimney, I had to install a new chimney and an iron stove, since the cabin was empty of everything. The previous occupant had never actually used it. He kept it as a back-up if he ever needed it. Since the time I had graduated from college, this was actually my first home, not counting the barracks I lived in during Army days. I already had some experience with wiring, so I was able to set up the meter base and a basic electrical system without too much difficulty.

I did not want to spend a lot of money on rent since I had no idea how long I would be unemployed. As it turned out, I would not be going back to work until the next winter. But there were plenty of interesting things to do in the meantime.

Mine was a genuine log cabin with corrugated steel for a roof. I installed a wood stove and made it home. Because of its small size, even in the minus 55 degree weather, it was relatively easy to quickly heat and keep warm. I hauled water from an artesian well ten miles away. Some years ago when I traveled down College Road where this was located, it was gone--probably burned down.

I wanted to visit some of the Native villages. I had met so many villagers, but I had not grown up in anything like that. Ketchikan was a small American main street type of town of the type that probably no longer exists today, but it definitely was no village. It had all the amenities of the time, including a first-class school system that enabled me to have a very good education that enabled me to apply and receive and ROTC scholarship. Now it was time to see how my fellow Natives who were not so fortunate lived.

I had already made arrangements with a Yukon River Native to travel down the Yukon River as far as Ruby where he lived. Al McCarty had worked at Franklin Bluffs. He told me that he was buying a 16-foot riverboat and a 40 horse Johnson engine when he returned to Fairbanks. I would be among those riding along. The Chena River flows through Fairbanks, then quickly meets the Tanana River. This is the one which passes through Nenana where the annual Nenana Ice Classic is held. This is a type of lottery event where one enters his best guess as to the time of the breakup of the Tanana River at a point where a tripod is set up right in front of Nenana--now an Indian village, but at one time a significant railroad town. When the Alaska Railroad arrived at the Tanana River, it established a large facility there because for several years, Nenana was the end of the line. In 1923, the golden spike was finally driven here by President Warren Harding--the one which commemorated the completion of the Alaska Railroad between Anchorage and Fairbanks. But in the meantime, the railroad employees set up an annual event which continues to this day--making calculated guesses that can net a significant prize from a very large jackpot.

The Tanana River continues through this area, past the deserted village of Old Minto and on to the village of Tanana where it meets the Yukon River. Beyond there is Ruby. It is a very long trip by boat. The prime barge line which plies these same waters is owned by the Alaska Railroad Corporation, as it has been for many decades.

Below you can see the map which shows you this area in the context of the Alaska Railroad.

This map shows the 1925 serum run in which serum was shipped via railroad from Anchorage to Nenana, then sent via dogsled to Nome in record time. This event was followed in newspapers nationwide, making it quite famous. Eventually the Iditarod dog sled race evolved out of this historic event. The race alternates, going either through Iditarod itself or through Ruby, where I spent a part of the summer of 1975. (click)

At some point I decided that it was time to try to find more work on the pipeline. I was able to enroll in a special school in Kenai that trained Natives to operate sewer and water treatment plants of the type used by Alyeska. Soon I would be back at work. Meanwhile, a fellow student took me on a drive from Anchorage to Glennallen. It was the first time I had been up that road which is now the one I travel on routinely. On the way up, not far out of Palmer, I saw this site: The Matanuska River flowing in front of King Mountain, which, as it later turned out, was named after an old friend of my Dad's father. This mountain was directly across from the old, deserted village of Chickaloon where I was registered.

Like many other places, including Nenana and Chitina and Talkeetna, Native villages were often displaced by railroad work camps. Chickaloon was one of those places. The Alaska Railroad had a branch line up there from about 1918 until 1923 when the Chickaloon coal mines owned by the U.S. Navy was deemed to be unsuitable for Navy ships and was abandoned. It was a standard gauge branch line. One of the old railroad bridges is still out there, but it is not in use.

The moment I viewed this scene, I began to have a flashback to something I had long forgotten. I was now finding myself expecting to see a large camp of red-painted buildings somewhere along a rocky river at the base of a mountain like this one.

King Mountain near Chickaloon in a photo taken last year from Highway One, the Glenn, along the Matanuska River. (click).

Porphyry Mountain, just beyond McCarthy and just above Kennecott: Does this one resemble King Mountain? At the approach angle to Kennecott that you see here, it certainly does. I had never been to Kennecott, or McCarthy and had never seen any photos of this place, but here it was. (click). Photo taken about 1920.

I did not really give it much thought at the time. I just felt that I should be expecting to see buildings for which I knew no name. I was not thinking in terms of railroads, but I knew that I was looking for an abandoned mine site. As of yet I had no name. Dad had never talked about Kennecott, because it was not a part of his life when he grew up at the Jesse Lee home in Seward. And even though I had read many Alaska Sportsmen magazines--the ones which had stories and photos of the old Alaska--I had never encountered any stories or photos of Kennecott. But somehow I knew that place was out there. I just did not have a name for it.

I sensed that I was about to enter the land that was my true home. In those days I did not know how true that really was.

The Kennecott ghost town mill as it appeared in 1981. (click)

Klondike Mines RR, Pt 2, Background

The Klondike in the early 1900s

I have a couple of views of the Bonanza Creek area probably about 1904--when the KMR was still being organized. The big gold strikes were over, claims were being consolidated and bigger companies were moving in with larger operations. But it was still right out of the rough and tumble Old West.

Here you see an early view of part of Grand Forks which was completely surrounded by on-going mining activity. When this photo was taken the railroad had not yet arrived. You may click either image for a larger view.

The investors in the KMR had failed to take into account how quickly a boom can turn into a bust. There was really no way that a railroad could have been built in time to take advantage of the initial gold rush when 30,000 people invaded the Klondike, bringing with them a potentially huge demand for transporation of goods, machinery, and people. But that was a state of affairs that would quickly end. Once the initial rush even showed signs of being over, many of these people began filtering out. The lifespan of the main stop on the KMR route--Grand Forks--would prove to be particularly short. However, even Grand Forks would outlast the KMR. The massive and near-immediate railroad profits that were enthusiastically and confidently predicated in the KMR prospectus would prove elusive. No, worse than that: non-existent.

The great Klondike gold rush was a boom, alright, just like the gold rush at Forty Mile down river had been ten years before and the gold rushes at Nome and Fairbanks, Iditarod, Livengood and all the rest would be within the next few years--boom and BUST. First the news of a strike would spread. There would be that massive onslaught of people, the construction of a huge tent city, then the many semi-permant business store fronts-- and all those unbelievable profits.

But it would never last long. In a similar fashion, the greatest Alaskan construction project of all time--the Alyeska Pipeline--would bring an unparalleled boom that would rock the state of Alaska and catapult the Alaskan people into an entirely new era--almost rudely awakening it out of its old territorial, frontier-like state and right into the modern world of the 20th century. Then the boom would falter. The need for a massive work force would suddenly be over. And I do mean suddenly. One week there would be 20,000 people employed with huge paychecks. Then, a month later, not even a quarter of that still there in the work camps with the numbers falling rapidly.

The money would quickly dry up as people lost their high-paying jobs--or in the case of the Klondike--had worked out their rich claims--cleaning out all the easily-obtainable gold. All those people who had come to be a part of the big boom would begin a mass exodus. Businesses would try to sell out, but all would almost inevitably fold. Their owners would find themselves ultimately just giving up and abandoning their stores, their hotels, their bars, their restaurants.

It would reach the point where all that once-valuable real estate could not be sold at any cut-rate price because there were no takers. Even the ladies of the night would pack their bags for greener fields and simply slip away--off to the next big rush wherever that would be.

The KMR was a victim of the Klondike bust. It was almost like a self-inflicted gunshot wound to one of the knees. The railroad would never have a change. It would come into being only to begin an immediate slow death. As the railroad was laying line in one direction, people were heading out en-masse the other way. By the time the track-laying had begun the boom was already over--something that should have been obvious to the investors. . But the railroad show would go on anyway. Because there was still a need--they hoped. After all, those massive dredges and the huge hyraulic operations were moving in--and they needed to be fed. The KMR would find that its greatest purpose in its short railrod life would not be hauling goods and people or even much machinery. It would become . . .

a firewood hauler.

17 October 2010

In Pursuit of the Ghost Train of Tsedi-na, Pt 1

In Pursuit of the Ghost Train of Tsedi-na :

My First Experience with the Pipeline, 1975

The Advent of the Alyeska Pipeline: The event which changed everything.

Above: The route of the oil pipeline and a profile map in the context of the entire state of Alaska.Below: The pipeline construction camps, 1974-77: You won't readily find this map anymore. The camps are mostly long-gone since the early 1980s or even earlier. In place of these camps are the various pump stations, some of which have also since been abandoned. None of the pump stations were located on or even near these construction camps. The pipeline camps were for construction of the actual line while there were separate camps at every proposed pump station location.

The Alyeska Pipeline was the single largest privately-financed construction project of the time. To say it changed most everything in Alaska is an understatement. From the moment those first oil field leases were let out by the State of Alaska in 1969, the future course of Alaska was set and the lives of every one of its citizens would be greatly affected forever--even those living in the most remote of places within the state. I was one of many for whom this event marked a pivotal change which would affect me for a lifetime. During the height of construction, over 20,000 people from all over the world were employed on the project. All of them would be affected in similar ways, for this was a project like no other.

Franklin Bluffs was the name of my first camp. It was March of 1975 and I was flying from Fairbanks across the Arctic Circle to a pipeline construction camp that was only fifty miles south of Prudhoe Bay. I believe the company who had the contract flying to the northern camps was Wien Air. They are long gone, but at the time they were a well-established yet typically-Alaskan operation--a bare bones and sometimes white-knuckled flying operation. The turbo-prop probably held two-dozen people, if that many, with room for a huge assortment of duffel bags, tool kits, boxes held together with duct tape and all the other odd assortment of baggage we in the North Country are used to seeing on pipeline workers' flights such as this one.

This was my first real job since leaving the Army nearly a year before. I was excited, knowing that this could be the beginning of a career that would take me on to even bigger and better things. Yes, it was a three-year construction project, but most all of us who were part of that gargantuan operation, including me, somehow seemed to believe it would go on forever. I can recall nothing in my life quite as exhilarating as when I finally became a part of the Alyeska Pipeline project.

Franklin Bluffs camp, winter view: This was the camp that I first saw during those late winter months that I worked here as a Native site counselor. Nothing exists at this site but the gravel pad upon which this camp was built. Like all the other construction camps, this one was disassembled and hauled off after the work here was completed. We landed on a gravel strip adjacent this camp. Franklin Bluffs is on the North Slope amoist nothing but tundra. There are no trees and few geographic features. There is a slight bluff from which this camp took its name, but nothing exists here to stop the incessant winds from blowing up a real storm. Those create total white-outs making road travel nearly impossible. There were plenty of those. (Click for a larger view).

We landed without incident in the most barren country I had ever seen. All there was to be seen was one bluff as we were landing--and not much of one at that--and miles upon miles of a vast white flat featureless landscape wholly devoid of any distinguishing features. This was the North Slope. The camp consisted entirely of ATCO units built somewhere in Canada and transported by truck over the Alcan Highway. It was a series of parallel flat-roofed single-story barracks connected by very long and wide hallways that were heated by large diesel-burning space heaters. The halls were brighly-lit with barracks extending at right angles out of the them probably about every fifty feet. I don't know how many of these there were, but the camp was designed to house 1,100 men. All of this was interconnected with a large dining and kitchen facility somewhere near the front of the camp close to the various offices. Outside were rows of steel buildings which served as warehouses, repair shops and support facilities for water, sewer treatment and power, among other things.

Everywhere were the bright yellow Alyeska pickup trucks and suburbans. Almost all of them were 1975 model Chevrolets. There were dozens upon dozens of these--especially the pickup trucks. Then there were all the heavy yellow pipeline construction equipment. All of it was kept running all the time because diesel engines shut down had a bad habit of not restarting out here in this arctic environment.

I had a camp manager who was a Texan to answer to but my real boss was Lonnie Thomas and Bob Scanlon, who headed the Native Training Program for Bechtel which was based in Fairbanks on Ft. Wainwright. Lonnie was either a Tlingit or a Haida Indian originally from Klawak, not far from Ketchikan on Prince of Whales Island. Bob Scanlon was not Indian, but he was a good and dedicated boss. I know that because I soon felt the need to throw a curve ball his way and he caught it. He backed me up under what seemed at the time to be exceedingly difficult circumstances.

I was at camp primarily to ensure that our force of Natives would somehow remain on the job. Whatever it took to do that was my responsibility. Most of these Natives were villagers who had never worked construction before. They were typically very young--18 to 21 and mostly male. This was a very volatile group. They did not understand these outsiders who had come to build this massive pipeline and I suspect that many of the Natives were intimidated by them--especially the Texans and Oklahomans who comprised the bulk of the pipeline workers. I was facing a job which was really unwinnable, but I did not realize it at the time.

I had a lot of problems with the Resident Site Manager Bob Stiles who was from Texas. He did not understand Natives and obviously did not want to. He barely tolerated me. I had to try to work around him. The camp manager, who was also a Texan, was easier to work with, so I often brought my immediate concerns to him. Unfortunately what I discovered is that the real power resided in Bob Stiles. It would not be long before we would have to square off.

But the real problem we Natives seemed to face was, as usual, within our own ranks. Too many of my fellow Natives found ways to bootleg liquor into the camp. Many a night there were alcohol binge parties which often resulted the next day in Native workers either being fired or feeling sorry for themselves and simply quitting. The worst incident happened shortly after a huge number of United Association Local 798 Pipeline workers showed up with their Native welder helpers as per the agreement whereby so many Native welder helpers had to be hired into those positions. It was basic trainee level. It could have worked, too, but many of the senior Local 798 welders found ways to discourage or otherwise drive off their Native welder helpers. Then they started bringing in their own family members from Texas, Oklahoma and Arkansas to replace the Natives. In one week over sixty of my Native workforce had quit. I stood there in disbelief as I watched planeloads of Natives departing the camp. It was a disaster.

Meanwhile I had this ongoing struggle with Bob Stiles which kept getting worse. He finally sent one of his henchmen to warn me to straighten up and shut up. I shot off a long report down to the head office, the follow-up to a telephone conversation I had with Lonnie Thomas and Bob Scanlon. They wanted the report in detail. I had taken good notes. They got what they wanted. In the end, even though I found I was unable to hold onto nearly as many Natives at Franklin Bluffs as I would have liked, at least I got the last laugh on Bob Stiles. He was removed as Resident Site Manager. Shortly after that I decided I had had enough of a losing situation and I notified Fairbanks via an explanatory letter that I too would be leaving.

Over the course of the few months that I was at Franklin Bluffs I had the chance to go out into the field numerous times, even though Bob Stiles often tried to block my access out there. I interviewed dozens of Natives on the site and in the barracks, all the time trying to collect data to demonstrate what was actually happening to our Native work force. I saw first hand a lot of mistreatment of Natives and in a few cases was able to successfully intervene. What I took away from that assignment was a burning desire to somehow find a way in my personal life to make up for the bad hand I had seen dealt to all too many of the obviously unsophisticated remote-village Natives who often were unable to adapt to a situation such as the one presented in the early days of pipeline construction. Their work situationsinvolved long hours working with a wide variety of people who knew little or nothing about Natives.

The snow and ice had melted off the tundra. I had had enough of that North Slope camp in more ways than one. Except for one brief break, I had been there about four months, working sometimes both night and day in a futile attempt to keep as many Natives employed on this part of the pipeline as possible. I felt that I had failed, but at least I provided a detailed record of what had happened there to my head office in Fairbanks.

Now it was time to begin looking for a new career. How was I to know that a year later I would end up right back where I had started this personal adventure--at Franklin Bluffs? All those construction camps and pump station camps and before the year was out I would be back on the North Slope in that very camp. Funny how life works out sometimes.

Meanwhile I picked up this marvelous book--essentially a political history of the construction era of a long-forgotten railroad--the Copper River & Northwestern Railway. I had never really thought of myself as a rail-fan. It had been years since I had thought much about trains at all. Some things in life cannot be escaped. Not only would I soon return to Franklin Bluffs, but I was about to meet an ancestor I never even imagined had ever existed. And in the process I too would become a dedicated historic railroader.

An abandoned CR & NW Railway box-stock car in the near-ghost town of Chitina--not far from the traditional home of Nicolai of Taral.

KMR No. 4, Pt 2

The KMR #4 moves stateside:

Purchased in 1955 by Mike Molitor for a theme park railroad at Oak Creek, Wisconsin, this engine waited for the completion of track that never occurred. It was finally moved to Waterford, Wisconsin in the early 1960s.

Here it is at the Pepermint & Northwestern, Waterford, WI, in 1962. The cab sports a "Northwestern" herlad similar to the Chicago & Northwestern.

And here we have the Hooterville Cannonball, Sevierville, Tennesee. This was not the one which was used for the filming of the old television series, "Petticoat Junction." In fact, this operation only lasted THREE DAYS. Photo taken July 3, 1965.

At one time I tentatively labelled one of my Phase II railroad stops "Petticoat Junction," I did not know this connection existed between an old KMR engine and a failed business attempt to tie the locomotive to the once-popular television series. Maybe someday I will actually model a Petticoat Junction.

Current Info on KMR #4:

This not is the most current info I have that is posted on KMR 4: 2006-01-27 10:11:11.443 by Jim Boyd: This engine has been aquired by Dry Gulch RR and is being restored!! (Adair, OK)

Apparently, if you want to see the one remaining operational KMR engine, you can do so!

Final note : Below is the likely large-scale model which will be modified to represent KMR #4. Like the others, this one is on hand and in storage.

KMR No. 4

KMR #4--The newest and the last in the series of four KMR engines

This is the only engine built for the KMR, arriving late in 1912. It operated nine months before the KMR closed down.
The WP&Y Ry purchased this engine and a number of pieces of rolling stock in 1942 for use on that line where it operated for several more years until being retired in 1952. It was eventually sold to a buyer in Milwaukee in 1955. It eventually became part of a kind of carnival operation where it was renamed the "Hooterville Cannonball" with the tender indentifed as the "Petticoat Junction RR." This was not the one from the television series, which occurred on the Sierra Railroad in California, but was instead an attempt to cash in on the popularity of that show. The locomotive went through a series of moves over the years and now sits in storage in Adair, Oklahoma.

This one was a prairie with a straight boiler (click for larger image).

This was KMR 4 in Dawson in 1912-13--the only picture I have seen of this unit in action. (click).

KMR No. 3

KMR #3

KMR #3 was a Baldwin 2-8-0 Vauclain compound built new for the WPRy as No. 7, renumbered as 57 then sold in 1906 to the KMR as No. 3. This was evidently intended to handle the heavy freight loads which never materialized. Because of this, KMR 3 sat mostly unused until 1910 when it was finally put to use hauling firewood. It joined Nos 1 and 2 at the Dawson City Museum in 1961.

These two images are clickable to a larger size.

. This Baldwin Vauclain Compound apparently became obsolete with the development of the superheaters. KMR #3 was a very large engine relative to the others, and that fact kept it from being used very much during its brief life on the KMR where it was finally abandoned.

KMR #3 under cover and in the process of restoration as a static display in Dawson City My Accucraft K-27 will fill the role of KMR #3. The two shots here are not of my engine, which like KMR #3, has sat unused for a long time because it was unsuitable for the intended purpose due to its unexpectedly large scale. My own K-27 has only been run on two occasions for a few minutes each time. It has been completely out of service since 2001 when it first arrived here and is not expected to go online until 2015.

KMR No. 2

KMR #2

KMR engine No. 2, built in 1885, was Columbia and Puget Sound No. 8 before being sold to White Pass as number 5 (later renumbered 55). It arrived at Klondike City in 1905 along with a barge load of other rolling stock for the KMR which was still not in operation. Included in the load were two passenger coaches, one of them being a combine, probably built in the 1880s. There were also a number of box cars and flat cars. Most of the thirteen box cars and the ten flat cars arrived in that year. By the time the KMR had ended service in 1913 all of those box cars had been converted to flat cars and the coaches had not run for several years.

KMR #2 proved to be the most useful of all the locomotives and is the one which shows up in most of the photos of the KMR.

A Bachmann 2-8-0 1:20.3 is to become KMR #2

Line drawing of KMR No. 2 (click)

I have one of these on hand to fill in the role of KMR #2 for my Phase III KMR model railroad. This one, along with KMR #1 will be powered by remote battery. No. 2 will probably be the busiest one on the line just as the original KMR #2 was, assuming the Phase III line is ever constructed.

KMR No. 2 (click)

Historic Map of the KMR & original proposed KMR garden RR layout

KMR Route

As is the case with any large scale model railroad, a great deal of selective compression is called for in order to make your chosen line fit the limitations of your yard and your budget. These two maps were taken from a recent study which re-mapped the old KMR . Much of the line is gone, not just because of natural erosion but mainly due to extensive dredging and hydraulic mining activities which have significantly altered the landscape since the railroad was abandoned in 1913.

This is especially the case for the area downstream from Grand Forks, which itself is non-existent.

Below: One possible layout @ the CRD for the above historic line. This is a very simplified compressed representation of the historic KMR line, including two historic wyes, and one which was never built at Dawson City. Detailed drawings for each section will follow.

However, at this time, as already noted, expansion plans for this segment have been placed on indefinite hold.

It is too early to determine the exact nature of the layout of the proposed Phase III 1:20.3 KMR narrow gauge line. Most likely it will appear something like this. The area around Sulfur (Sulpher) Springs is high ground because that is an elevated leach field, which makes it particularly suitable for the historic east end of the line that terminated at Sulfur.
NOTE: Written in 2009

KMR No. 1

Klondike Mines Railway engine # 1

The first run out of Klondike City with engine #1 in the lead. The first 13 miles of track was completed in mid-July 1906--the run from Dawson City, the official terminal, to Grand Forks. The remaining mileage to Sulphur Springs was completed by October to a distance of 31 miles at a final cost of about two million dollars.

KMR #1, a Brooks 2-6-0, was built in 1881 as Kansas Central Railway No. 7. It went through several changes in ownership, including the Canadian Pacific, one of my own mainline railroads on the Phase II segment, before being sold to the White Pass & Yukon as No. 63. In 1902 it was sold to the KMR. As of 1961 it went to the City of Dawson as a static display.

All above pictures are clickable to a larger size

The large-scale (1:20.3) Bachmann 2-6-0 is a good match for KMR engine number one. I had already ordered that engine for this project in 2009. It is now sitting in a backroom awaiting its new home as well as some re-lettering to its new road name. Note: Since I originally wrote this, I indefinitely shelved the referenced Phase III KMR model project.

More on the CRD/ALCANEX track plan as of end-of-season 2010:

Here is the track layout as I projected it would look for the 2010 season. Except for the last extension to the proposed site of Grand Forks, which was to be part of the Phase III Klondike Mines Railway section, the line was completed as represented here by mid-summer of 2010.

In 2009 I wrote:

"This map reflects the proposed Phase III extension from a point just beyond Cantwell, winding around underneath the Cantwell yard via the Ed Knobel Memorial Bridge to Nowhere,* then over to the proposed Sulphur Springs Wye where the line will terminate just beyond it at the Grand Forks site. That is the extent of my model railroad work that I foresee for the upcoming season.

"The Sulphur Springs Wye/Grand Forks (Phase III extension) is the closest point the tracks will reach the ground, although the entire line will still be supported above the ground on a "ladder" support. This will mark the beginnings of the Phase III segment, which is intended to be serviced primarily by 1:20.3 rolling stock.

 "For those of you not familiar with this setup, the Phase I is the  original historic Chitina Local Branch of the Copper River &  Northwestern Railway. It is built at the highest level, starting in the  bar at the seven foot level. About a foot and a half below  that is the  newer Phase II line which starts at the CRD back bar, then heads  outdoors where at one point it is running about four feet below the Phase I line as the Phase II line approaches Cicely.

 "Another roughly four feet below Cicely is the Cantwell RR yard, directly  underneath. Finally, the Phase III extension will work its way around  the yard, gradually dropping in elevation,  until it reaches a point  approximately 1 1/2 to 2 feet below the Cantwell RR yard,  making Cicely-Cantwell a three-tier operation. That lowest level will  also serve as a railroad siding for the KMR rolling stock, whenever that  is added. At this point only the KMR locomotives are here, but except  for one piece, these remain to be converted to battery power before they  can be used. That is still at least one or two additional seasons away.

 "In any case, my point is that this is a multi-level line that ranges from approximately 10 feet above the ground on the CRNW Phase I  line, to 7 feet above the ground on average for the Phase II   line, to an average of 3 feet above the ground for the Cantwell RR Yard  segment and ultimately to 1 1/2 feet and less for the lowest level  --the KMR or Phase III  extension-- that remains to be constructed."

Below is a close-up Google-Earth map that enabled me to provide dimensions to the existing model RR @ the CRD:  

* Ed Knoebel was a local retired businessman who was a fellow large-scale model train enthusiast. In has last years he began selling off his rather impressive model RR collection. I purchased much of the track and several pieces of his rolling stock. The very last item I bought from him before he passed away was a large model of a steel bridge, now in use on my line. I decided to name it after Ed Knoebel, a decorated WWII veteran. When I first installed it, that was the end of the line, so its original name, fitting at the time, was the "Bridge to Nowhere." When Ed passed on, it became the "Ed Knoebel Memorial steel bridge." I will eventually install a scale sign on both sides of that 4-foot-long bridge to properly mark it.

The more modern fleet of model locomotives on the CRD railway

Most of the locomotives on the existing large-scale CRD model RR line are of the more-modern type like those pictured below. Very few of the older steam-engine types are run anymore, although I do pull one out from time to time for the visitors to see. The Canadian Pacifics seen here are not currently in service.

Below is one of the large steam engines I ran in 2009 pulling older-style rolling stock in a first run of the season after the snow melted off the tracks. That particular engine was not run during 2010.

Here is that same Great Northern engine the 2006 season:

It is a 2-8-8-2, a model of a mallet--one of the largest steam engines ever built, used primarily as an ore-hauler for the iron-ore mines of Michigan.
It sat in the "Cantwell Industrial Park & RR Yard" all during the 2010 season.

(NOTE: all images can be clicked to view a larger version. )

Two of my older large-scale model locomotives

Bachmann 4-4-0 and Bachman 2-6-0:

I acquired the 4-4-0 (left) this winter and the 2-6-0 last winter. I purchased the 2-6-0 for use in the Phase III Klondike Mines Railway project. I have delayed that project into the indefinite future. The existing rail line is probably to remain as it is, except inside the bar, for the next several years. The 4-4-0 will probably be used strictly inside the NEW (proposed) bar area on some kind of simplified loop. The 4-4-0 is a very old design that was rarely used by the time the 20th century came around. I have found evidence of only one in use in Alaska. The 2-6-0 was far more common. Three of them were in use on the Copper River & Northwestern Railway, for example, although none were quite as old as the one pictured above. That one, from the 1880s, was of a type used on the White Pass & Yukon Railway in their early years. One of them went to the Klondike Mines Railway as Engine No. 1. The only 4-4-0 I have found apparently went to the Tanana Valley Railway running between Chena and Chatanika. Both engines were narrow gauge.

Meanwhile both of these models remain as "shelf queens." That is, they have never been run, possibly never will be run, and are on display somewhere on the property.

Speaking of our oil & gas industry, whatever happened to . . .

REFERENCE MAP:

Proposed Beluga-to-Fairbanks Natural Gas Line

We had pubic meetings over this proposed line two years ago.

At that time the project was a near-certainty. Now, we hardly ever hear about it, except in the

context of another project considered by many experts in the industry as uneconomic and otherwise

unfeasible --the Pruhoe Bay to Valdez LNG line.

(Click map for larger reference map)

More observations on the pipeline

I feel like I am leading a historic life here. Much like those early mining engineers who started their careers as surveyors for Kennecott or the CRNW Railway and ended them with those same companies 27 years later when Kennecott pulled out of Alaska, I too am watching history unfold, starting with the early days when those first lease sales made the news of the year for Alaska back in 1969 and started the ball rolling that led to construction of the pipeline in 1975-77. Just to give you an idea of the magnitude of it, the total number of men involved in on-site construction over those few years exceeded 70,000. That is a HUGE economic impact, especially considering the almost unheard-of wages that this project brought with it. Well, it looks like I will be here to watch it all end in another decade or so. In a way, I almost hope so, just to be a witness to it.

On the other hand, I would REALLY like to see ANWR developed because THAT would add up to 30 more years to the life of this already 30-year old pipeline. Now THAT would be something ! Either way it will certainly be interesting times here in AK.

But I sure hope we have something here in Alaska to replace that oil pipeline. Otherwise it seems highly unlikely that future generations not just here in AK but even stateside will fail to have opportunities I and so many others had. Not that I successfully took advantage of many of them. But that's another story.

A historic view of the pipeline shortly after completion near Tonsina, Copper Valley, Alaska, 1977. In the background are Mounts Drum, Sanford & Wrangell. (click image for larger one)

How much time left on the oil pipeline ?

PUMP STATIONS, Status as of June 2009: We are now running on FOUR pump stations out of the eleven originally built. That is because the average BPD is now 672,028 whereas the high point back in the mid-1980s was 1.2 million BPD. We anticipate dropping to the minimal amount of just over 200,000 BPD within 10 years. That is NOT good !
• PS 1, 3, 4 and 9 operating.
• PS 5 operating as relief station only.
• PS 9 on line with new equipment December 8, 2006.
• PS 3 on line with new equipment February 12, 2008.
• PS 4 on line with new equipment May 21, 2009.
• PS 7 caretaker status March 9, 2008, in preparation for
ramp down in late 2010.
• PS 2 ramped down July 1, 1997.
• PS 6 ramped down August 8, 1997.
• PS 8 ramped down June 30, 1996.
• PS 10 ramped down July 1, 1996.
• PS 11 was not built but has maintenance facilities.
• PS 12 placed in ramped-down status April 1, 2005.

*originally posted about a year ago. NOW it appears that the 10 year estimate was probably optimistic. We MAY be looking at SIX years !

Comparing one great historic Alaskan project to another

The previous project which even remotely touched the Alyeska Pipeline for economic impact and longevity was the Kennecott Copper Mine and its Copper River & Northwestern Railway. From early construction until its final demise, the project lasted 32 years--now two years less than the present-day oil pipeline which has potential to last far longer.

Just think, at one time, over seven decades ago, with the rest of the valley not even knowing, the engineers at Kennecott had already given up on any possibility of extending the life of the mine any longer. They knew that 1938 was it. Then the end would come, not just for the mine, but the railroad as well, and most of the economy of the Copper Valley with it. The Alaskan residents did not have such a strong stake in Kennecott Copper as they now do in the oil which pumps out of the North Slope oil fields. In fact, most of them had no idea what was about to happen to their fragile economy.

When Kennecott sent its final train load down the line on November 10, 1938, many people along the line did not realize it was the Last Train Out. There would be no other to follow. They thought that Kennecott would be back for yet another year. After all, the extent of the great Kennecott copper deposits was not pubic knowledge. But the valley was economically doomed until the oil pipeline came along 36 years later. By the next year--1939--this would become obvious.

The possibility to return remained at least until the railroad bed deteriorated to the point where it was no longer even close to economical to fix it. The last caretaker did not abandon Kennecott until 1952. Even years later in the late 1960s a latter-day mining company conducted extensive exploration with core sample drilling inside those same abandoned mines, especially on the Mother Lode side where it was still believed that a large vein of copper might lie hidden just out of sight of the old Kennecott company that no longer existed.

The abandoned Kennecott mill in 1946: Even then most everything was left in place--just in case. This is one of my best pictures of the mill, taken by W.A. Richelsen, last superintendent of Kennecott, who took an inspection trip to the site in that year. Yes, there is a link to a much-larger image here. GREAT photo, is it not ?