A Bull Cook's duties included cleaning bunk cars, scrubbing floors, cleaning oil lamps and assuring the cook had plenty of coal and water. Tony Tiggonelli was our cook, he and my father had operated a restaurant in Wattrous, Saskatchewan in the 1930's. Tony was a heavy smoker, Export Plain if I remember correctly. He would light up and not remove the cigarette from his mouth until it was finished. Blue smoke curled up from his lip leaving a stain up his cheek, the ash got longer and longer until it dropped into the soup. Tony never missed a beat!

The outfit cars did not have electricity, the coal oil lights required regular filling, wick trimming and chimney glass cleaning. Dirty sooty glasses were grounds for admonishment. Perishable food was kept on ice in the Supply Car, the ice came from a stout timbered structure partially set in the earthen bank across from the station. The Ice House was stocked once a year from giant slabs cut from pristine Lucerne Lake. Buried in sawdust, the ice remained frosty white through the summer months. Water came from a hillside spring, directed into a large wooden barrel by an elevated flume, handily right next to the Cook Car.

Work trains had few amenities. We didn't have a wash car as was common to the larger gangs. Our outfit consisted of the Shovel Operator's Bunk Car (also home to the Oiler and Me), the Supply Car and Cook's quarters, the Cook Car, and a boxcar loaded with coal. One end of the Cook Car had a very large cookstove, cupboards and benchwork for preparing meals. A variety of bent and bashed pots and pans hung in rows. The opposite end was where we ate; imagine an oil cloth covered table some 16 feet long with sturdy wooden benches along each side. Near the middle of the car, at the side doors and closest to the food, was one sturdy round backed caboose chair. This was the head of the table and the Locomotive Engineer's seat'no one dared sit here without learning his ornery nature and the origin of the words 'hogger' and 'hoghead'.

Tony would sit here and play cards with the crewmen. You might imagine where I fit into this hierarchy'yes, way at the end, and furthest from the food! Early on Hogger Williams observed my boyish politeness, 'Please pass the'.', but no one listened. Now its not likely that I would have starved, but Williams one day tugged my arm as I passed, 'Hey kid'let me show you how to get something to eat.' With that he stood up and proceeded to line platters up his forearm as he headed to my seat. Placing a knife halfway through those large oval platters, he scooped food onto my plate. I never went hungry after that.

Wolfenden was isolated except for the railway and a narrow dirt road that was the Yellowhead Highway. Only a few cars would pass by each day. A Section Gang lived in the station. The small Waiting Room still had a pot bellied stove, an Agent's Wicket and a Standard Time clock. The Agent / Operator had been replaced by a Dispatcher's phone.

A very large Welch or Rock Gang was stationed east of us, scaling embankments above the tracks. Welch gangs had a long relationship with railway construction. Most of the workers were new to Canada, mostly from Europe, and few spoke English. They were well fed but the two and three tiered bunk cars were crowded. Some of them kept sausage, pickles, cheese and bread under the bunks, right next to their smelly boots!

Our work train was powered by a General Motors GP7, number 4812. The many air dump cars were loaded at the Messiter Tunnels, an area of great instability. A large earth bluff extended above the railway to the North Thompson River's Little Hell's Gate or Pont de'Enfer as the Overlanders called it. Eventually, the larger tunnel was daylighted. Once loaded, the train dumped the material along the right of way to be spread by a Jordan Spreader.

Spreader Operator Shorty Jones was seldom idle. I recall he had a steel plate in his head from an old war injury, and he was constantly busy lubricating and servicing a variety of valves and levers. The Spreader wings thrust out and up and down as needed, powered by large pistons and cylinders. The dump cars could dump to either side by the operation of large pistons and air pressure from the locomotive. When the cars were being loaded, Shorty would climb under and adjust and lubricate some more! Shovel #143 would whistle the engineer for the next spot, Shorty would scramble out from his precarious perch and off we would go. Can you imagine that with today's standards and WCB'

As the east facing train was being loaded, the brakemen walked a mile in both directions to flag expected trains. They would set 'guns' or torpedoes in pairs on the rails, 100 yards apart, and walk back to exactly one mile from the work train and wait in readiness with a red flag. An approaching train's wheels would crush and explode the 'guns' causing a loud bang and a cloud of smoke alerting the crew to danger ahead. The train would stop for instructions from the flagging brakeman and then proceed slowly to the work block. The brakeman at the opposite end would be called in by whistle signals before the work train would move into a siding to clear. Work trains would clear passenger trains well in advance to avoid schedule delays, and the expected movement of trains was always provided in a dispatcher's line up each morning.

My father practiced a tightly coordinated system of train control, rarely disrupting a passenger train, but he was not averse to having a freight proceed under slow order while he dumped his train. A former CNR official told me that dad would accomplish more work, but only if he wasn't being watched. His practice was to send the tail end brakeman west and set some extra 'guns' a few hundred yards west of the official set. This early warning gave the work train time to be underway and dumping on the way to Wolfenden. The approaching train caught up at the dump location or the west switch and dropped off the tail end brakeman. The head end man was spared the walk back as he was picked up by the work train proceeding to clear.

I can still see those large Pyle National headlights glaring in the rear door of the caboose.

Dad prepared many a meal in that caboose, he was a fine cook, a joy to many brakemen he trained on work trains and regular service. Cabooses were assigned to Conductors in those days, his was well stocked with grub and cookware. The coffee was always on.

Once every few weeks, the work train went to Blue River for fuel, often laying over at night. This welcomed time allowed for use of showers in the Roundhouse and for laundry at the hotel. I'm sure a few beers were lifted at the Blue River Hotel while others played pool at Dunk's. I was able to get fresh milk from Mrs. Johnson's Dairy, sold at David McLaren's Store. The store opened in 1911 and has operated continuously ever since.

I have not said much about the work I was to do, but I do remember many crew members helping me with some of the heavier tasks. Tony was tolerant and helpful; perhaps being Walter's kid helped. Packing coal from the outside braced boxcar was pretty simple, just break up the coal, fill the pails and line them up in the car doorway. The crews then took them to their appointed destinations without being asked. Water was another thing, we used lots and a two and a half gallon pail was all that I could lift up the car ladders. More than once, a firm hand reached down as I struggled to do it alone. The Highways Department screwed up our water supply one day, and for a while I had to get water a half mile down the siding. The Sectionman's Velocipede came in handy for this. Two pails sitting on the rear deck splashed at my back as I pumped and peddled my way to the outfit cars.

I have been back to Wolfenden a couple of times, late in the 1980's and again in the 90's. The siding has been extended several miles, but none of the buildings remain. Today, travelling on the wide shouldered Yellowhead Highway, you may never notice the trail across the river that was once the road. Wolfenden remains accessible as logging trucks and CNR equipment still use the old road. The road leaves the highway east of the North Thompson River bridge. Little Hell's Gate with millions of gallons of water thrashing through the twenty foot wide chasm can be seen from a viewing platform at the Regional park. You might even spot a passing train high on the canyon wall.