Can You Love Her If She's Cranky? (Part 4) By Carl W. Stephanus

Darn, this young Romanian couple is laughing at this old man (me). I am hitching a ride with them this morning from our hotel to the station of the last operating logging railroad in Europe. After they said they enjoy riding scenic railroads, I had told them I did not want to ride in the passenger cars today! Rather, my ambition is to run the steam locomotive pulling their train.

It is our last day visiting this remote Maramures region in Northwest Romania. While my wife explores some local culture around Viseu de Sus, I await meeting the manager of the passenger operations for CFF, the narrow gauge logging railroad here. A CFF crew is readying the 9AM train, which will again be pulled by the 57-year old 0-8-0T named “Elvetia”. As happened yesterday, the engineer for “Elvetia” is the tall, gruff-looking man in his mid-70s, with a floppy-rim camouflage hat.

Manager Ioana, a beautiful young woman (early 30s? of age), and I talk briefly; and she introduces me to her husband, a tall, heavy, business-like but congenial fellow (he also works for CFF RR). He quizzes me on my experience and qualifications as an engineer. Ioana then says she will talk with the engineer of the 9AM train. I stay back a little ways as she talks in Romanian with the floppy-rim hat man. By his expressions, I see that he wants no part of having someone else run his “Elvetia”. Ioana then says she will ask the engineer of the other passenger train going out today.

After the 9AM train departs, Ioana returns with a smile. The other engineer would be glad to have me come with him. I ask her to write the engineer’s name (“Mec Vasile Barson”) on a piece of paper. Asking her how much to pay for a ticket for this privilege, she says no ticket is needed, but a donation toward upkeep of the locomotives would be nice. She is quite pleased with the donation I gave her.

A group of thirty-five Germans are having a class reunion party and have chartered this second train, to be pulled by “Mariuta”, a 0-8-0T built in Berlin in 1910. At the shop area, I find “Mariuta” on a sidetrack with the mainline between her and the log splitter/supply shed. I show my paper to two men loading logs into her and they gesture that Vasile will be here soon. A diesel pushing two coaches comes down the maintrack and pauses briefly, as the engineer indicates he will be back in five minutes. That must be Vasile.

Vasile brings the diesel back up the maintrack without the coaches and stops just past the switch going back to the shop building. This diesel was parked on this track in front of the shop yesterday. Betting he will back onto this track, I have relined the switch just as Vasile walks back to throw this switch himself. He sees me, stops, smiles, and climbs back into his diesel to put it away. Maybe, I’m off to a good start by showing him some savvy. Of course, I reline the switch back for straight moves on the maintrack.

The fireman (also called a stoker) brings “Mariuta” onto and down the maintrack to get closer to the log shed. Vasile, smiling and jovial, comes up from the shop, kids around with some other workers, and invites me into his locomotive cab. He knows very little English, but in Romanian and German, I think he says he is 47 years old and enjoys his work. After a few more logs are stashed in the bin and on the cab floor, Vasile takes “Mariuta” down to station and hooks onto our four-car train.

Vasile directs me to take his engineer’s seat and we agree on his hand signals to tell me when to go slower or faster. I am glad Ioana’s husband comes into the cab as he can speak English with me. He is probably coming along to keep an eye on me. As “Mariuta” is smaller than “Elvetia”, the cab is now crowded (along with logs on the floor).

At 10:30 AM, Vasile blows a toot on the whistle and motions me to proceed. I push the throttle away from me and we start to move. But there is nothing smooth about this throttle! I have to coax it slightly back and forth to get the response desired. Yea, she’s cranky.
After passing the shop, Vasile signals me to stop, which is easy to do by just closing the throttle because we are going upgrade. Later, I will learn stopping is not so easy as the CFF steam locomotives and cars do not have air brakes (except for seeing some unused air hoses on some imported passenger cars). Instead, we will use the small reverse lever (like an auto’s manual gear shifter) to stop. Shortly, the fireman comes back with a bucket of sand and climbs on top to fill the sand dome.

Soon we are proceeding at “full speed”, and “Mariuta” is lurching sideways like a drunken Hawaiian hula dancer! With her long (four axle) fixed-wheel base, she weaves along on the uneven, wavy rails that look almost like pairs of wandering snakes.

Suddenly, Vasile reaches over my shoulder. He pulls and pushes the lever that releases sand down to the rails ahead of the wheels. We were not slipping and I throw a quizzical look at Ioana’s husband. He responds by saying that Vasile knows where we will slip if he does not apply sand! But the sand does not always flow smoothly. So now the fireman is climbing out the left cab window and up on top of our lurching locomotive! At the sand dome, he tries banging on the linkage and pipes with a wrench. As that does not help, he opens the dome top and reaches inside to do something. Success, as the sand is now flowing and the wheels are not slipping.

Ioana’s husband instructs me to blow one long toot as a warning signal whenever we approach a blind curve.  He must be satisfied with how I am doing because at the next stop he goes back to the coach to ride with his wife.

After a stop for lubrication and another stop for water (putting a hose into a side creek), we reach the lunch stop at Patlin, 18.2 kilometers from Viseu de Sus station. As we pull up to clear the downriver end of the passing siding, the first train pulled by “Elvetia” immediately leaves to return to Viseu de Sus.

We switch the cars using gravity, as previously described, and this time no cars get hung up. Leaving me alone in the cab, Vasile climbs down and directs me to take “Mariuta” down to the side creek to take on more water. After the water tank is filled, I resume moving her to the return end of our train sitting on the passing siding. I had indicated to Vasile that I would not make any of car couplings (with a brakeman standing between the cars to set the link and drop the connecting pin). He agreed it is a dangerous job for the brakeman. So the fireman comes and he moves her the last few feet to couple onto our train.

As the Germans brought their own big spread of food with wine and beer, no food or drinks are available to buy from the CFF and I just eat my three granola bars. After inspecting the area, Ioana and her husband get into a VW van mounted on railroad wheels and depart to inspect the railroad further up the valley. As no one else remains here speaking English, I hang out with my old girl friend “Mariuta”, while the Germans sing loudly and drink more wine and beer. Meanwhile, a very long log train, headed by a small diesel locomotive, comes by enroute to the mill.

After what seems like (and was) a long time, Vasile and his crew are back and we blow several warning toots to get the German singing party back on board. Vasile first backs the train up to another sidetrack to couple onto a bulkhead flat car to bring with us. He then “gives” “Mariuta” back to me for the return to Viseu de Sus. As she is now running backwards (and she doesn’t mind it), Vasile attaches a special metal plate onto the back of the firebox, so I can sit and face the direction we are going.

As we set out downgrade, I point to the locomotive hand brake, which is a heavy round weight on the end of a lever. With sign language (of course), I ask Vasile if we will need to use it to control train speed. He indicates no, because the trainmen will use hand brakes on the cars to slow us down. But now, we are picking up too much speed! The fireman jumps from his seat and swings the locomotive hand brake back and forth, as Vasile toots the whistle to remind the trainmen to do what they should have been doing!

While we mostly drift on a downgrade along the river, we do encounter some undulations that require opening the throttle. As I mentioned earlier, the throttle is not smooth and I cause some jerking actions to the cars behind us. Vasile and his fireman are laughing and it sounds like they are saying our heavy-drinking passengers deserve some shaking up. Vasile shows me how he “dances” with the throttle to get us up the little grades without jerking the cars. I copy his actions but not quite with the same finesse. He laughs and seems to indicate our passengers will not notice.

The steam whistle on “Mariuta” does get a lot of use also on the way home. Vasile performs a nice long “wolf” whistle for a lady he sees walking on the other side of the river. Also, I use it to chase some cows off the track ahead. And, he toots the whistle going past his house and again, when passing some friends. At the usual stop for running gear lubrication, many Germans get off to gather together for singing, and it takes several warning toots to get them all back on the train.

Most of the time, Vasile and his fireman have their backs to me as they lean out the fireman’s window, enjoying the river and mountain scenery. While I assume they are still aware of where we are and what I am doing, it is exhilarating to be the one running “Mariuta” and watching out for what may lie ahead.

Coming into town, we make another stop at a house where a tall, young woman wearing shorts stands in an open doorway. Only the fireman and Vasile go inside, leaving me alone in the cab for a few minutes. They come back with big smiles, and, as we roll pass the doorway, Vasile points to the fireman and then to the young woman, saying “das ist freundin” (ie., the fireman’s girlfriend).

The trip ends and I give Vasile and his fireman some “beer money” for their “hospitality”. They are quite thankful, so I guess that will buy them a lot of “beer”. A little later as I am walking away, Vasile passes me as he takes “Mariuta” back to the shop tracks. He waves and shouts,“Thank you Carl! Thank you Carl!”

So did I love that old & cranky lady, “Mariuta”? Maybe yes, and I certainly did love the experiences she gave me!