The tracks less traveled


C.R. Nelson
For the Observer-Reporter
newsroom@observer-reporter.com
Engineer Rodney Grimes in the cab of the train.
Rodney Grimes blew his horn as he slowed his coal train down one August day in 2016, slow enough for me to get the shots I needed for the ’50s fest T-shirt, Waynesburg’s annual September celebration of classic vehicles and the people who love them. My design for 2016 would pay homage to both Bryan Cole’s 1956 Crown Victoria and Greene County’s coal heritage. Bituminous coal still rolls across the county on a company-owned rail line, from what was once Cumberland Mine, now Contura, near Kirby to the harbor next door to the forgotten town of Alicia on the Monongahela River.
When Rodney got his ’50s Fest shirt, he was all smiles. We had become friends over the weeks of setting up the shot, of me asking a hundred questions and Rodney more than willing to describe his four years of driving through the natural beauty brought on by the changing seasons of Greene County from a vantage point like no other. “How would you like to ride this train and see what I see?” Rodney asked me.
He didn’t have to ask twice!
So here I am, ready for the ride of a lifetime on the cloud-studded morning of May 8, 2017. It’s the kind of day sandwiched between thunderstorms that in retrospect seems like a minor miracle.

C.R. Nelson
For the Observer-Reporter
newsroom@observer-reporter.com
Pete Zapadka shows the scale of the train’s size at the mine site at Kirby.
My journalist colleague and unabashed train buff Pete Zapadka is with me. We meet Rodney at the harbor gate; he waves us in. The river gleams with morning mist rising – nature and steel intersect here. The land around Alicia is also where U.S. Steel’s Robena Mine once delivered coal and loaded barges. The Robena mine disaster of Dec. 6, 1962, killed 37 miners and The Welcome Center on Interstate 79 near the Kirby exit is in itself a monument to those who died hundreds of feet below in Frosty Run Shaft. What is left of the Robena complex is now a deserted village of rusting buildings and equipment in a field of spring wildflowers.
By 8 a.m., we’re wearing hardhats and neon yellow safety T-shirts crisscrossed with reflective tape, mingling with men who work here, laughing, drinking coffee and swapping stories. The safety video starts rolling, we settle back to watch.
Yes, this is a place where safety counts. The rumble of wheels and gears, the sudden release of steam from the hydraulics that open and close the business of loading and unloading coal is a wake up call. Every surface is dusted with black particles crushed fine enough to fuel power plants up and down the rivers of this region and beyond.
You have not seen black until you’ve seen coal.
On a hillside near the tracks where our ride will begin at 9 a.m., site utility personal Frank Craig takes us on a tour in his four-wheel drive truck. We navigate a dirt road hugging the river bank to where an old mine entrance from the early 20th century can still be seen, its entrance blocked in. This was where horses and mules lead by boys once brought out carts of coal picked and shoveled by their fathers and older brothers. I know this story. My grandfather, Pete Kearney, went into the mines at age 10 to do this job. He was one of the lucky ones, he told us kids growing up.
“Not many people get to see this,” Frank says with a grin. “You know Judge Farley Toothman? He’s been out here but even he hasn’t seen this.”

C.R. Nelson
For the Observer-Reporter
newsroom@observer-reporter.com
The tunnels under Interstate 79 before Alicia Harbor.
I’ll be sure to let Farley know, I tell him, grinning back.
Because of railroad safety regulations, being in the cab of a working train is usually limited to employees. But this privately-owned railroad does not cross a public highway and operates on less stringent regulations. Once we observe company protocol, we’re good to go.
The two engines used on Rodney’s run are powered by 2,000 horsepower diesel motors that in turn power DC generators that run the traction motors that turn the wheels. Between them, 38 empty cars are coupled together. A third engine parked nearby is a 3,000 horsepower workhorse that makes solo runs with 27 cars. Once the cars are loaded, that engine is uncoupled, tracked around and recoupled to bring the coal back to the harbor near Alicia, by Grays Landing Lock and Dam.
Rodney heads to the lead engine and we follow. He will operate both engines from the cab we are in. Beside him sits his yellow remote control box with a joystick that would be the envy of any gamer.
We’re ready for a run that is roughly 45 minutes to an hour out, an hour to load, an hour to get back and an hour to unload. Rodney does this twice a shift and other operators keep the trains moving on a 24-hour schedule that matches the open market for coal. Power plants do direct purchases and these trains fill the orders.
The empty cars are in front of us, what we see from the side is a steady clip of green hills studded with landmarks from a bird’s eye view. The track makes a north curve when it leaves the harbor then heads south, then west, following Whitley Creek. It crosses the bridge over Route 88 and we catch glimpses of landmarks below and streaks of highways disappearing into the trees. Mapletown is to our left and so is Hunting Hills, Rodney says. Houses and occasional farms slip by.
Time matches the rhythm of the wheels, but who’s counting? There are about 17 miles of track to cover, we’ll be there in about an hour and there’s something to see around every bend. Whitley Creek keeps us company as we meander along State Route 2011 that leads to Garards Fort. The miles roll by and suddenly, White Covered Bridge emerges from the trees, straddling Whitley Creek not far from where the creek runs to its headwaters in State Game Lands 223. I scramble to take a blurred photo.
“Don’t worry,” Rodney assures me, “You’ll be able to get good shots on the way back.”
Nature closes in, we’re in the game lands, then out again, then in the sudden darkness of the tunnel under Interstate 79 near the Kirby exit. We proceed to Polecat Hollow and the shadow of the bridge carrying Polecat Hollow Road is passing over us. Within a mile, we will be taking a bridge over State Route 19, then Shriver Hill Road, then Big Shannon Run.
The preparation plant is a towering steel monolith in a sea of spring green as the complex comes into view.
We disembark and Rodney puts his joystick to the test. Pete makes a video on his iPhone as the cars inch into position, each receiving about 115 tons of coal from the overhead chute.
The coal from these 38 cars will fill “three jumbo, four stumbo and five standard barges,” Rodney tells us.
We switch engines for the ride back and the loaded cars are now behind us. This is our chance to see and photograph those awesome views head on. We pass piles of railroad ties and wildflowers, pass wet rocky hillsides and sudden heart-stopping drop offs as we cross bridges, 14 in all. We’re getting our train legs as we rock and roll along, and Rodney describes the changing seasons he has seen, when the hills are golden with maple leaves, when waterfalls freeze.
As White Bridge emerges from the trees, I’m camera ready.
We’re going a bit slower now. That much tonnage makes the gradual grade of the track both climbing and descending a harder task for the big diesels. The metal groan of breaks doing their job becomes part of the song this train is singing.
The Doppler trail of coal cars stream behind us as we take those 60-some long lazy curves back to Alicia.
Back at the harbor, it’s another almost hour unloading, with Rodney releasing the hydraulics on each car so that the bottom opens and the coal spills onto the belt that will carry it to the silo to be transferred to other belts and then released into barges waiting on the river below.
Later, Frank Craig takes me down to the river and I get the shots I’ll use to do a pen and ink drawing for the April page of the 2018 Greene Country Calendar.
When I flipped my calendar page from April to May and settled down to write this story, I was happy to ride those rails with Rodney once more, if only in words.
Frank retired in January and Rodney retired from the UMWA and his last job of mobile equipment operator at the end of March.
But the trains of Contura still roll across Greene County, from Alicia to Kirby and back, and the barges pushing coal on the Monongahela River are still a sight to see.