Comparison:
A slab avalanche of wet, heavy snow rushed down the mountainside and slammed into the two stalled trains. It pushed them—and other locomotives and plows—into a deep ravine and the stream below. One witness described the wrecked train cars as looking like ‘an elephant had stepped on a cigar box.‘
Knute Berger finds a witness' statement a fitting capture of an awful, horrible confluence of weather and railroads in the early 20th Century. Eyewitnesses can often evoke the essence of a tragedy in ways other commentators might fail to see. Clearly train cars stuck in dangerous avalanche-prone mountain areas are as vulnerable to massive damage as is a small, traditional cigar box from a pachyderm. The inclusion of the phrase ‘Cascade concrete‘ further establishes the horror of this particular avalanche. When we wince at the obvious trauma, we note that the comparison, while deeply unpleasant, nonetheless allows us to grasp the proportions of damage and loss of human life.
Context:
In late February 1910, deep snow was piling up on the western slopes of the Cascades—-the mountain barrier that can stop a Pineapple Express and allow it to dump its moisture. This time it stopped a different type of express: trains of the Great Northern railroad where they emerged from the east side of the mountains to the west near Stevens Pass at a railroad town called Wellington.
The Seattle Express from Spokane and a Fast Mail express became stuck there. The track ahead was buried after days of heavy snow, so heavy that even the massive rotary snowplows deployed to clear the railroad tracks were stuck too.
The two trains were held up for nearly a week in an exposed position: beneath the steep slope of a snow-laden mountainside. The Seattle Express passengers were cold, food was running out, and they worried about an avalanche sweeping down on them.
On Feb. 28, the heavy snow turned to rain which increased anxiety. That night, an unusual thunderstorm shook the Pullman car windows and lit the sky with lightning. The winds picked up, and at 1:42 am on March 1, the mountain let loose a blanket of what is called ‘Cascade concrete.‘ A slab avalanche of wet, heavy snow rushed down the mountainside and slammed into the two stalled trains. It pushed them—and other locomotives and plows—into a deep ravine and the stream below. One witness described the wrecked train cars as looking like 'an elephant had stepped on a cigar box.'
Citation:
Berger, Knute. “Twin Rail Disasters that Hit the Pacific Northwest in 1910 are Reminders of the Power of What We Now Call Atmospheric Rivers.“ Inlander, inlander.com, 23 May 2024. Web.
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