THE GREAT REDWOOD TRAIL: CONCEPT AND PROPOSAL

 Part 2 (of 3): Rails to Trails in our Backyard

 

The completion of the transcontinental railroad in 1869 linking east to west ushered in the golden age of railroads in the United States. Midwestern wheat easily shipped to east coast flour mills, Kansas feedlot cattle mooooved almost effortlessly to east coast markets, and folks could cross from east coast to west in days rather than months. The magic carpet made of steel sealed the early 19^th century doctrine that American expansion across the continent was inevitable.  And, until the 1950s, rail was most certainly king.

         In 1956, The Federal-Aid Highway Act authorized the construction of a 41,000-mile network of interstate highways that would span the nation, and rail transportation’s dominance began to fade.  Some opine that the last most profitable year for the freight rail industry was when trains transported the cement that was used to build the interstates.  That may or may not be true, but as trucking allowed more flexibility, rail lines became less feasible, and many were ultimately abandoned.

         The “Rails to Trails” movement sought to repurpose these rights-of-way.  Given that out of necessity, rail lines rarely exceeded a grade of 2% ~ that is two feet of rise for every 100 feet in distance ~ rail grades could and do offer easy walkin’ and ridin’ for hikers and bicyclists.  Many provide access to some of the most beautiful, rugged, and remote quarters of the west: The Bizz Johnson Trail on the old Pacific Fruit Express line skirts Fredonyer Pass in Lassen County; miles of the old Tonopah and Tidewater slip toward the edge of Death Valley at Rhyolite (my dad worked for the T&T); and the original route of the Central Pacific over Donner Pass invites hikers through tunnels chiseled and blasted back in the 1860s.  (Even today, if you listen carefully, you can still hear the echoing ping of the picks striking the granite.)

 

The Great Redwood Trail is envisioned as repurposing the old Northwestern Pacific line from Cloverdale, through the Eel River canyon to Rohnerville and Eureka.  The route will use existing bridges and tunnels ~ work around them where necessary ~ and split the third largest watershed in the entire state.  Travelers will hike through the ancestral homelands of the Yuki people, cross ranchlands that date back to the mid 1800s, and ultimately follow the edge of a languid Eel River as it meanders along the coastal plain en route to the sea.  Along the way, the adventuresome will observe flora and fauna in nearly pristine environs while stepping back some 200-plus years from the pressures of the 21^st century into the pleasantries of… well… not the 21^st century.

         Access points may serve to revitalize dot-on-the-map communities including Outlet, Dos Rios, Bell Springs, Island Mountain, Alder Point, and Fort Seward. Each of these places holds a unique history associated not only with the railroad, but with the First Peoples who resided in the region for over 10,000 years as well as the ranchers and lumbermen that followed.  Users may choose to day hike or bike out of each locale or engage in a point-to-point-to-point for all or part of the two-hundred-mile section north of Cloverdale.  Camping and sanitation will be available as well as security for local landowners.  (SMART is committed to construction of a bikeway along its tracks from Cloverdale south to the Bay.)

         Though currently only in the planning stages, if all goes well, within the decade a vast and wonderful experience will be open to us and our children. Many communities are already on-board with the project.  

Besides: What could possibly go wrong?  Could the Great Redwood Trail possibly get… dare I say it?... derailed?

 

Next: The Great Redwood Trail: Dreams and Challenges 

 

© 2022 

Church of the Open Road Press

THE GREAT REDWOOD TRAIL: A BRIEF HISTORY OF THE NORTHWESTERN PACIFIC RAILROAD

 Part 1 (of 3):  Rails to Trails in our Backyard

 

In Northwest California lie Humboldt and Mendocino Counties.  The region, with its steep terrain and large redwood forests, remained isolated from the rest of California until the completion of the Northwestern Pacific Railroad (NWP) in 1914.  After being settled by immigrants in the 1850s, the coastal regions of both counties were easily accessed by sea, but an overland route was slow and difficult to traverse.  Particularly vexing was the transport of redwood lumber ~ often referred to as “red gold” ~ from area mills to San Francisco markets.  In the 1850s, doghole schooners were the main vehicle for shipment, but mill owners were only paid once their timber arrived in port.  When a ship went down ~ as happened frequently ~ so went the profit.

         In 1884, two Humboldt mill owners, John Vance and William Carson (…recall Eureka’s elegant and gingerbready Carson mansion?  Same guy…) joined forces to begin a railroad that would connect Eureka with the outside world.  A rail line was constructed to link Eureka with Fortuna and Rohnerville.  Fifteen years later, the Pacific Lumber Company in Scotia began building lines south into the Eel River. Soon the area was webbed with tracks servicing mills and towns, but shortly after the turn of the century, none were yet connected to the economic hub of the San Francisco Bay Area. 

         Enter the owners of the Santa Fe and the Southern Pacific.  In 1906, they joined into an agreement that would link the north country lines with those owned by the S.P. which already extended from the Bay to Willits.  The trick would be to construct something through the rugged and remote Eel River Canyon.

         Over the next seven years, crews prepared grade, built bridges, bored tunnels and laid track along the river course finally driving a “golden spike” at Cain Rock in 1914.  At a cost of $14 million dollars the rail line was finished.

 

But the fun was just beginning.  California’s Coast Range is a complex mixture of geologic features.  Mother Nature’s favorite toys, tectonics, volcanism, and the weather, play havoc with the plans of mere humans.  Movement along faults and fissures like to nudge and sometimes shatter stuff we build in the coastal mountains.  Huge plugs of basalt speak to her volcanic past.  And, at cut banks we can see today, bent and tilted layers of unstable clay indicate that the NWP traverses an ancient, ever-uplifting ocean floor.  (So does US 101.)

         Heavy winter rains, working in concert with these elements caused bridges to wash out, tunnels to collapse and rails to give way under the weight of passing freights. Like dots on a timeline of misfortune, one washout or collapse was soon followed by another.  Among the more notable?  In a 1964 flood ~ one that some of us may remember ~ the entire rail route through the canyon was washed away. Remnants of fallen rail cars can still be found in the riverbed.  Tenaciously, the tracks were rebuilt.  Then in 1978, the tunnel at Island Mountain caught fire ~ arson is still suspected ~ and the redwood ties and tunnel support structure burned, collapsing the thing. That, too, was repaired.

         But the die was cast.  While shipping lumber by rail was cheaper and more efficient than by schooner, it wasn’t much more reliable.  Construction cost for the route proved to be a fraction of the cost of keeping things up and running.  Plus, with the advent of the state and federal highway systems, diesel trucks proved more reliable and more flexible in getting product to market.

         70 years battling the greater forces of Mother Nature proved to be enough ~ she always wins, doesn’t she?  The last NWP train ran on the northern line in 1984.  

     

What might become of an abandoned rail line through such a scenic ~ yet unstable ~ corridor?

 

Reference:   Northwestern Pacific Railroad: Eureka to Willits.  Susan O’Hara and Alex Service.  Arcadia Publishing.  2013. $22.  (Locally available, this is a delightful book with tons of information and lots of old photos.)

 

Next:             The Great Redwood Trail: Concept and Proposal

© 2022 

Church of the Open Road Press