watching time move transcontinental railroad story

There was even a roundhouse and a small town here for a few years. For a few months after May 10, the two railroads interchanged here, until good sense prevailed and they moved the interchange to Ogden, with Central Pacific operating the Promontory stretch. You can drive significant portions of the original right-of-way - yes, you can bounce along in your SUV at 20 mph and get a sense of what it was like in the cab of an American-type locomotive with evocative names like Antelope (the locomotive which was pulling Stanford’s train bound for Promontory when it hit a tree in the Sierra and had to be taken off), Juno, and Terrible - and you can get out and walk, reflect, and ponder “the wedding of the rails” or “east meets west” as May 10, 1869, has been commonly referred to. It comes complete with a visitor center, park rangers, 4-4-0 replicas in steam, and re-enactments of the May 10, 1869, last spike ceremony.

Promontory today is a gentrified National Park Service Historic Site the official name is Golden Spike. Visions of workers digging cuts and hauling fill material with mules in this otherwise tranquil scene of undisturbed nature dominate my mind: This is brute strength and hard work personified. The Golden Spike site is owned by the National Park Serviceĭuring a June 2018 visit, these thoughts and others compete for space in my head as I trudge along the dusty walking trail that was once the Central Pacific main line. The isolation is part illusion, for just across the ridge, at the foot of the abandoned Promontory grade, is the massive plant that produced solid fuel rocket motors for the space shuttle (with an estimated total 37 million hp) - an incredible leap ahead from the state-of-the-art 1869 4-4-0 (with its estimated 540 hp). There are no fast-food restaurants crowding the parking lot, no hotels flashing brightly lit signs, no miniature golf or ice cream stands.

It would be the equivalent to the 1969 moon landing - putting people about as far away as you can to do an extraordinary deed, and do it well, despite adverse conditions.Įven the way the clouds move overhead in a swirling, lazy fashion, wrapping themselves around peaks and ridges, adds to the impression that this must be among the most inhospitable historic sites and tourist attractions in celebration of a major event in our national story. They must have felt like they had exited the map of humanity. Consider this: If it feels that isolated now, imagine how Chinese and Irish construction workers felt 150 years ago when they were clearing a roadbed, laying gnarly rough-hewn ties, pounding misshapen spikes, and jockeying sticks of rail to make a way for the latest technological achievement, the iron horse. This is a place that evokes questions into which we can only hope to get an insight. To come here into the high desert is to be on a pilgrimage for a glimpse into the unending sagebrush, rocks, and nothingness that is Promontory Summit, Utah, the location where the first transcontinental railroad was completed. The list of words to describe how this place - one of the (if not the) most sacred sites in American railroad history - feels is nowhere long enough.

Watching time move transcontinental railroad story