Rail Road Park

Rail road memorabilia, museums, gift shops get my attention. Maybe because my Daddy worked on the rail road. Maybe because I grew up along the rail road tracks. Maybe because it was so much a part of my growing up years and memories.

South bound I-5 into California, I saw the signs for Rail Road Park. I wondered what it was. I passed it by with just a wondering thought. Two more times I passed by and each time, I glanced quickly at the sign and wondered anew. North bound I saw the sign again and at the last minute turned off at the exit - I wanted to see what was here.

The off ramp stopped at an intersection. I turned right, passed under the freeway and followed the road around a corner. Off to my left a small round lake in the middle of a park like setting at the mouth of a narrow canyon and in front of it a huge sign that said Rail Road Park. As I rounded the corner, the first thing to catch my attention was the round wooden water tank on its tall supports. Then I saw the old black locomotive parked beneath the tower.

I turned left again and then into the yard of the Inn. A yellow caboose was nearly hidden in the trees to my right as I turned in and there were more scattered in a haphazard manner around the area.

I parked and walked into the office. Railroad gifts and memorabilia got first attention. I picked up a round trivet - Great Northern red with Rocky the goat on his pinnacle. If Dad were still here I'd get it for his table, but he's gone, so I touch the goat lightly thinking of Dad and then set it back in place.

I like getting mugs from neat places in my travels and I looked at a few, but I just couldn't bring myself to get one right now. I talked to the lady behind the counter. Personable and friendly. I walked out knowing that one day I would be back.

I started out of the parking lot then on impulse backed up, turned around and drove around the 'rail yard' taking photos and just looking at the neat layout and facilities. Beyond the yellow caboose was one more and then three small cabins - all with railroad signs - 'Train Master, Dispatcher, Gang. I liked the atmosphere, the lay out, the theme, the care. Caboose rooms on short sections of rail, colored and signed for each rail company as they had in working days.

I retraced my route back to the freeway, but half a mile further took the exit into Dunsmuir and stepped back into time again. The town reminded me a bit of old mining and logging towns I had seen last winter in the mountains of northern Idaho - with one difference. Dunsmuir appeared to have survived the time better. Not so many empty abandoned homes and buildings. Those along the road well maintained with neat yards. I slowed and pulled over to allow cars to pass me by before continuing on. Almost instantly the first thing I noted was the attitude of the people here. Strangers passing by in the opposite direction lifted a hand in greeting - not once but several times. Was this really California?

I parked curbside and walked into the hardware store and stopped. The first thing I noted was the old hardwood floor. A short fellow stopped to greet me and talk and it took a moment for me to realize that he worked here. Behind him a tall, slim man walked over to turn his back to absorb the warmth from a pot bellied stove.

The atmosphere in this store was one I had not seen in years - the kind that makes you want to linger, wander and see everything on the shelves. The kind that makes you feel you want to make a purchase before leaving. No blaring music. No curt, unfriendly clerks without the time to spare to talk. No one following you around to make sure of whatever it is they do have the time for.

Dunsmuir - another story - a town with history, with interest. Warm, friendly country folks that are rare in this modern fast paced world passing by so closely to their doorstep.

Dunsmuir, California - Thank you for your warm hospitality to an out of state traveler passing through.