Wrath of Argentine

Argentine Yard. One of the biggest railroad yards in the country. It was originally built by the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe and rebuilt by successor railroad BNSF in 1996. It's state of the art, and amazing to watch it work. But I have to spray it. That's not nearly as much fun.

To get an idea of the size of this yard, take a look at this aerial photograph:

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Now I have to admit I don't have it as bad as the previous crew, they had to do pre-emergent spray. This means they had to cover every square inch of the property. It took over a month and included spraying 24 hours a day. Thank God I don't have it that bad. However, there is still a lot of ground to cover and a lot of things to spray. The worst part is we can't just go spray it on our own, we need a railroad pilot for nearly everything we do.

I can understand the need for a pilot, most of the time you are spraying close to active tracks, and there is no shortage of activity in this yard either. It's a pretty dangerous place and if you aren't paying attention bad things can happen. 

The problem with pilots is they often don't want to be there, don't know the whole process of spraying, and tend to get impatient. Our work is tedious, we can only get so much from the truck. A lot of spraying, especially in the tight area of a yard like this, has to be done by hand, which is tedious, time consuming work. But if you want to do a good job and get everything covered it's a necessary evil. Most pilots just don't have the patience for it.

Now when you are on your own doing off-track spraying (without a pilot, as is the case most everywhere else) you can take your time and do a good job. You aren't being rushed by anyone, you can get things covered. All my experiences with pilots have been they want you to skip this or that, or not get out and hand spray, etc., and it just gets on my nerves.

Just as I figured our pilot wasn't much different than the others I've had. As usual it started out good, but quickly deteriorated. This was the last thing this guy wanted to do on a Sunday morning (and who could really blame him?)! I like to do a huge yard like this in sections so that everything can get covered in a somewhat orderly fashion. Today, though, we seemed to just drive around here and there and hit up weeds wherever it was convenient. There was all kinds of stuff that was being skipped just because he didn't want to stop. I know we are going to have to go back and redo those spots now. 

I tried to just simply stop and hand spray where it needed, but it became obvious that was taking up to much time, so soon we were just driving around. It was a really half-assed job that got done today. It irritates me to do such a crappy job, especially knowing I'll probably have to come back and redo it.

Even more depressing though is it's just the first day and we've barely made a dent. There is just so much there. We haven't even got started on the actual tracks yet, there are hundreds of those to try and do! And I know just when we think we've got everything done there will be some new, big section we didn't even know about we'll have to do.

Argentine. It's fascinating to look at, but a real bear to spray. 

I think this is pretty funny

Wild marijuana is rampant throughout Nebraska and extends into Iowa and Missouri as well, often growing in ditches and along fences. Unless you knew what you were looking at it would be easy to miss for most people, it blends into the surrounding foliage pretty well. 

From what I understand marijuana was likely introduced when settlers would plant it along fence lines to help keep cattle in. The cattle would not eat the marijuana so the chances of them breaking through a fence were less. I have also heard that settlers planted it as hemp to make rope. Like other noxious weeds it eventually got out of control and spread everywhere.

The wild marijuana, often called "ditchweed," contains little THC and therefore you would be sick from the smoke before you ever got high. I have heard that people still come and harvest the wild pot to mix with more potent homegrown and imported weed to sort of "fill out the bag." Mostly though it's just an eyesore competing with native plants. In terms of railroad right-of-way, the plants, which can grow up to 6 feet tall, can block out signs and a view of the tracks, which can result in deadly accidents.

I think it's pretty funny that on my paperwork I can write "Target Weed Species - Marijuana." I think it's funny that marijuana plants are as prevalent as corn in Nebraska. I think it's funny people come from out of state to harvest ditchweed. Who would have ever thunk it?

Despised

Today was another one of those days. It's one of those days where you just feel like calling up the office and telling them they can shove it and hopping on a Greyhound bus back home. It's one of those days where you have to wonder if railroads ever plan anything out. More on why later, but the main thing is the fact that we, as contractors, are sometimes the most despised work group on the railroad.

Now that's not to say we always are, in fact where we have been working, St. Joseph, Missouri, everyone has been very helpful, nice and accommodating to us, even helping us get some work done on days they weren't scheduled to take us; but then there are the other locations where we aren't greeted so warmly.

The biggest accusation we get is of us being "scabs." That is because we are not only contractors, but also non-union, whereas all the rest of the railroad maintenance-of-way is unionized. So we are scabs, stealing their work, weakening their union (never mind the fact when the railroad did their own spraying no one wanted to ever bid that work because it is terrible!). So right off the bat we're often hated.

We don't spray very fast, we probably average 10-12 mph, because that's all the faster we can go to do a good job. The track inspectors we get as pilots typically inspect track at 30-40 mph, all we do is slow them down. There's another reason we are despised, they don't want weeds but can't grasp the fact we can't go as fast as they do. The train dispatchers also hate us because of this and I think sometimes forget we have a railroad radio in our trucks so we can actually hear all the snarky remarks generated about us.

The most annoying are the people that think the stuff we spray will kill them if they even get a whiff of it. I've never seen people as childish and whiney as railroaders. And of course if they complain, we get in trouble, even if we didn't do anything. 

Despite the friendly people we have been working with I got a bad impression about the guy we were with today. First off, I thought the plan was to spray within 30 miles of our hotel. Of course not, this is a railroad, so we got sent 75 miles away to start on a section of track I was planning on doing later, when we were closer to it. So we drove the hour up there where we were supposed to meet our pilot and of course, he wasn't there yet, he was out inspecting track before we slowed him down.

Two hours later he finally showed up just as it started raining. That's when he started in on me about why I didn't check the weather before I drove up there. This is where I nearly lost it, but just bit my lip and didn't say anything. What I would have liked to have said is, "First of all, I didn't know we were going to be up here. Second, whatever weather I would have looked at would have been four hours ago. Third, if you had showed up when you were supposed to we could have got two hours of spraying in. Fourth, go fuck yourself!"

I turned on the weather radio which was predicting scattered showers for the area, so I wanted to wait it out and see if the rain let up. Of course, he didn't want to do that, he had other things to do. Then he started in with why we didn't check the weather radar before we drove up here. Then there were some other snarky comments made at which point I knew I had to get out of there before I said something that would get me fired. So I rolled up the window and sped off, 75 miles of driving ahead of me.

Of course when I got back I looked at the weather and the rain had all moved out of the area we were in, it was beautiful spray weather, and here we were, sitting. It is frustrating. And all of this made me wonder why I care. I didn't do anything today but got over five hours of overtime. If I worked my ass off to do a good job and get things done I wouldn't get any sort of raise or more time of or a bonus, I'd just get an e-mail saying thanks for getting that run done. So why do I even care?

I guess it's all just from that Midwestern work ethic. Even in a job I hate, a job with no incentives, I still want to do a good job just for the sake of doing a good job, and that's why the whole thing just eats at me. 

But, tomorrow's another day of spraying, and the next day, and the next day, and the next day, and the next day..............

St. Joseph, Missouri. One Word: Creepy

I think at one time St. Joseph, Missouri, must have been a pretty neat town. There are all kinds of remains that suggest it was a thriving industrial town with a beautiful business district. I can imagine hundreds, even thousands, of people working and visiting these buildings. Today, though, St. Joseph seems like a ghost town, almost like you would expect to find somewhere in western North Dakota.

The central business district still exists. Magnificent granite and brick buildings still tower over the narrow streets, big windows and grand entrances enticing people to come inside. But the windows are all empty and the entrances are locked. The sidewalks and streets remain eerily empty. With all these grand buildings it just doesn't seem possible there couldn't be people everywhere.

Down the street are the brick buildings of the manufacturing district, still adorned in signs and logos indicating the companies that did business inside. They're in such good shape it's hard to imagine that they are indeed empty and the windows are boarded up. The crashing of metal and whirring of motors no longer emanates from inside, today they are surrounded only in silence.

It's all really fascinating and slightly creepy at the same time. It's not as if the town just simply disappeared, it's that it all moved to the modern buildings and strip malls that line the Belt Highway on the east edge of town. All the people and businesses simply migrated out of the old town and into the "new." What's left is a shell, a skeleton almost, but still in great shape, as if the whole town only moved yesterday. It really leaves a feeling of awe, confusion, and creepiness in you when walking down the street.

The Isolation of Life on the Road

I love to travel. There's nothing I like to do more than to hop in my car and just go. I love to see things I've never seen before, even if they may seem boring and mundane to everyone else, they're always new and exciting to me. That's why I thought I would love a job that involves a lot of travel (and perhaps if it was a slightly different job I would), but I am finding out that old line about the loneliness of living out of a suitcase is actually quite true.

What does my day really consist of? I get up at 0600, get down to the yard about 0700, and attempt to spray weeds. Afterwards I come back to my empty hotel room. The next day it's the same thing over again. And the next day, the same thing. The only people I know out here are the two other guys on my crew. Otherwise it's just me.

I get along fine with the guys on my crew, but they're not the people I would probably ever become friends with outside of work simply because we have little in common. So they serve as a lunch acquaintance but that's about it. Most of the time I'm isolated in my own little world.

The feeling of loneliness and isolation is heightened by the fact all of my friends are separated by 100s of miles. Only on the very rare occasion do we actually work somewhere where I know someone. And I only get to see my friends briefly, and those brief visits are separated by five long weeks of work. 

Even in this modern technological world it's hard to maintain any real contact with people. Yes, I keep in touch through the internet, text messages, and phone calls, but there is still the real life distance. No amount of electronic communication can replace the real life interaction with the people you love to be around. Living vicariously through Facebook does not replace the feeling of actually being there.

And so is bred the loneliness and isolation of life on the road with nothing to look forward to for weeks on end except for more spraying. All that I have in my room to keep me company is the glowing of a TV and computer screen. I hear about the fun things my friends are doing while I'm trying to figure out the plan for tomorrow, wondering if it will be too windy or if we will get anything accomplished even if it's not. No, this type of lifestyle is not for me.

The First Day

Today was my first day as crew leader - well, sort of. Yesterday technically would be, but all we did was drive from Cooperstown, ND, to St. Joseph, MO, so all I had to really do was point the hy-rail down I-29 and take the right exit to the hotel. Today was the real first day, and it seemed like it wouldn't be all that bad.

I had filled up our spray truck with water the previous night so we could mix up and be ready to go first thing in the morning. So far so good. Then it came time to set up the computer. It was a little challenging since the office neglected to pre-load a program so I had to make a brand new one on my own. But, with a little help from the manual I was able to get it up and running, so I figured I would test all the nozzles. That's when things started to get hairy.

I flicked the switch for my boom Radiarc (a motorized nozzle that sprays a wide pattern) - nothing. I flicked it off and on again and the motor was running, but no liquid was coming out of the nozzle. Well, this is no good. So I opened up the boom thinking perhaps the hose was kinked where the boom folds up, kind of like a human elbow. With the boom outstretched I tried again - nothing. This was also no good. I turned to Matt, riding in the passenger seat, and asked him if his Radiarc was working. Of course his worked just fine. Great, now what?

I got out and traced the hose all the way along the boom and underneath the truck looking for kinks, cuts, or some sort of plug. Nothing. I thought maybe the solenoid, the device that electronically opens and closes the valve to the Radiarc, was perhaps stuck. So I tapped on it with a piece of iron. Still nothing. But then the light went off in my head, when I took the truck out of the shop there was a brand new solenoid sitting on the passenger seat. It was now obvious why it was there! Supposedly this truck was supposed to be all fixed and ready to go, I guess they didn't quite get to everything. Replacing the solenoid was fast, just pull out a pin, unhook the electronics, pull off the old one and do the reverse for the new. Voila! Problem solved, thankfully!

Jim, our track pilot, met us shortly after and said that crews working in town had a four hour work window so we should be able to get some spraying done. This is where I should also mention that our chemical shipment for this line was not set to arrive until later in the day (more on this later), so we only had enough left over from the previous line for two more tank loads. I figured this would work out perfect, it should take three hours to get our three tanks sprayed and then the window will close, the trains will start running like trolleys (as they do on this line), and we would be done, no harm no foul.

We headed out to some location south of St. Joseph called French and got our track and time and were ready to set on and start spraying. I've set our hy-rail on the track numerous times, a little ballet that involves backing up on a crossing and getting the back and front wheels lined up with the rail so the rail wheels will match up correctly. But today made it look like my first time! I was completely off on the back but the front lined up. Matt had already put the front up by the time I realized I'd never get the back on, so we had to put it all down and start over again, costing time and making me look more than a little green at this.

I did get it on and we did start spraying. Now things seemed to be going! We cruised along just fine. The problem was I misjudged just how much chemical we would need. It was now obvious that we would not make it as far along as I told my ground (read "refill") truck. It should be no problem, except I couldn't get the ground truck on the radio - or the phone. Well, that's no good! I had no choice to go until we ran out and hope I could make contact at some point. This is also when I discovered my spray computer is not properly calibrated - the computer said I had about 46 gallons left when in reality the tank was completely empty.

Luckily our track pilot found the ground truck and sent him up the road. We found a place to fill and boy, did it seem like it took forever! It should take only 15 to 20 minutes (or less) to refill. It's simple, hook up the water hose, start the pump, MSM 60DF, Picloram, Journey, Vista XRT, Methylated Spray Oil, Point Blank, pull the hoses and go. It seemed like it took us forever and a day though, wasting valuable time, making me look incompetent. Sadly, the exact same thing happened the next time it came to refill.

It was now getting past that four hour work window, which was good, because we were completely out of chemical, so I figured I could at least spare myself the embarrassment of having to admit we started the day far shy of what we may need. But then I heard the train dispatcher extend somebody's track and time for another two hours. Oh crap! How was I going to sheepishly tell the pilot we had to quit (on an otherwise perfect spray day! no trains, no wind!) because we ran out of chemical. Then it started raining!

Yes, I thought, rain! We will have to quit now because we can't spray in the rain. Ha! I should have known better, the rain didn't last long and it was back to hoping for train traffic. Unfortunately I finally had to admit to the pilot we would have to stop because, "uhh...we are out of chemical. Completely out." He was amazingly nonchalant about it, but maybe that wasn't hard considering the previous antics of the day.

So we sprayed out the tank, a mere 15 miles short of one end of our territory. I will also guarantee that when it comes time to try and spray this short section train traffic and wind and rail will prevent us from getting it done in any sort of timely manner! At least today was over and I could try again tomorrow, right? Not quite. My ground truck driver informed me that he couldn't find any of the chemical that was supposed to have been delivered to the yard today. Well, that's no good!

I had hoped he just didn't look in the right spot, that it was hidden behind some building, but after scouring the yard myself my fears were confirmed, there was no chemical; and it was five o'clock. I called up the chemical dealership and was lucky enough to get ahold of the secretary there. Not that that helped, she couldn't tell me if it was delivered or not, and if it was when it got there or where they put it. I'd have to call back at eight in the morning, the same time we would normally be trying to get started spraying. Well, this is no good!

At this point I had little to lose, so I figured, what the hell, I'd drive all over town scouring the BNSF property to see if they had dropped it anywhere out of the ordinary. I did have a sneaking suspicion about a place on the other side of the yard where the old passenger depot was. I was so happy when I drove over there and saw a stack of boxes and barrels! The delivery driver had simply found this open lot (the depot has disappeared since I was last in town) near both the tracks and the highway and just decided to drop it off there. As annoying as it was, at least we had our chemical for tomorrow.

So that was my first day, not exactly smooth. But things can only improve from here, right?