Washouts

Washouts

Northwest Odyssey - Part IV

On The

Camas Prairie's

Fourth Subdivision

The 2nd Subdivision, also known as the Grangeville line, is perhaps one of the most awe-inspiring rides in the country. With spectacular trestles clinging high to the sides of Lapwai Canyon, the vistas of the mountains and canyon below roll by with ever-changing beauty. Fortunately, the second sub has been saved from the clutches of the salvagers and will be reopened eventually for light freight and possible tourist service.

Riding on the Camas Prairie Railroad has always been the ultimate in railbiking . Our two days on the Second and Fourth Subdivisions were no exception.

Peter Hoffman.

The 4th Subdivision, the Headquarters Branch, has not been as lucky. This line, running northeast out of Orofino, follows Orofino Creek for approximately twenty-six miles through a virtual wilderness, crossing the stream forty-seven times in a distance of 15 miles. After its last major supplier shut down several years ago, traffic dropped to a trickle. Then a hard winter storm damaged one of the bridges, and the remainder of the line’s limited business was diverted to trucks, with little hope of ever returning. As the line sat idle, the stream began to eat away at it’s embankments washing out long segments of the roadbed. Abandonment became a reality and removal of the rails is imminent.

Our Odyssey group came together in Lewiston, Idaho, and now had grown to nine. The original foursome of Arne, Morgan, John and Peter were joined by Michael, Bear, Eloy, Dick and Ken. The first afternoon we rode the 2nd Subdivision with the 4th on the following day’s schedule. Because the Insider has

Orofino Creek is deceptively named. It's really a small river, constantly eroding the banks along it's twisting route. At flood stage the railroad is at great peril.

previously published a couple of stories of the 2nd Subdivision (read Camas Prairie, Camas Prairie Revisited and Camas Prairie Loop) this story will focus on our ride on the Headquarters Branch. However, you will find a link to a Second Sub Photo Album at the end of the story.

To begin our ride on the Headquarters Branch we drove 50 miles to the top of the line in Japee. From there it is all downhill back to Orofino. Michael had brought a trailer and into this we loaded nine bikes while stuffing all the riders and their packs into the van. The loaded trailer looked like a bike shop after a terrorist attack and the van soon smelled like, well, you get the picture. We even crammed in an extra driver to ferry the van and trailer back to Orofino so we wouldn’t have to retrieve it after the ride.

The first half of the ride was pure joy as we crossed back and forth across the stream and drifted down

through the wooded canyon. We gathered to listen to Dick's tale at the wreck site where several run-a-way

cars struck a swing-loader and nearly killed its panicked operator who jumped ship just before the collision. Soon after we stopped at Haley, once the site of a logging operation and now deserted, except for one very hardy hermit, Ken Barton, who lives in a dilapidated cabin by the tracks. A more interesting character would be hard to find. Warm and friendly, humorous, and sharp as a tack, he entertained us with his stories as we shared our lunch while sitting on a trestle.

Ahead of us we knew there were several washouts and reports of a badly damaged bridge. The railbed started to disappear over a year ago and recent photos posted on the web by railroad employees showed the destruction has become much worse. To add to the drama, the sky darkened ominously and thunder began to roll through the mountains.

Reaching the first washout brought mixed emotions Amazement at the extent of the damage, awe at the destructive force of the rampaging stream, and sorrow at the realization that, yes, the 4th subdivision was truly finished.

We were able make a quarter-mile portage around the washout. Teaming up we carried the bikes down an embankment and through shoulder-high brush to the rails at the far end of the washout. No more than a half mile down the line we reached another washout. This one not as long but presenting an almost impossible portage. As the rails were still intact, although hanging above the stream for about 100 feet, so we decided to rope and pull them across one at a time.

The first five bikes made it across without mishap. Then in mid-stream, Dick’s bike came off the rails and hung precariously just feet above the water. With a heroic action, Eloy removed his shoes, jumped in the stream and struggled out to the suspended rails in waist deep water. It took a herculean effort to rescue the bike and Dick’s pack and get it back to shore safely.

Once on our way again, we encountered downed trees across the tracks and miles of heavy tall weed growth between the rails. The on-again-off-again thunder showers continued and it was getting late in the afternoon. We still hadn’t encountered the damaged bridge and were concerned that, if uncrossable, we would have to ford the stream, bikes and all. But our fears were unfounded. We rode across the bridge hardly realizing many of the pilings and superstructure had been swept away.

About five miles out of Orofino I happened to be leading the group. Rounding a bend I was startled to see unidentifiable animal on the tracks ahead. As I approached, it split in two, and became an adult dog and a puppy not more than a month old, wet, cold, hungry and scared. When I stopped the pup came and put it’ head down on my boot toe. We were still a long way from any visible habitation and I knew if we left the pup there it would most likely perish. Cradling the pup in my arms we rode about another mile to where the line crossed a dirt road. Just at that time a car came up the hill and I flagged it down. The driver thought the dogs belonged to a neighboor who lived farther up the hill so she took the pup with her and drove off. We learned later the pup safely reached his owners.

As we approached the end of our ride in Konkleville we were unaware that the railroad was still servicing a lumber mill and the rails were no longer safely rusted. It was now drizzling steadily and Arne and Morgan hit a slick spot and both derailed. Neither could continue without coming off the rails, so they carried their bikes down to the highway and biked to our motel on the pavement.

It was a great day’s ride, one that we will fondly cherish, and sadly for most of us, our last opportunity to ride on the Fourth Subdivision.

Pet the pup to visit the Second Subdivision Photo Album.

Peter

John

Peter

John

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