A Journey into Yesteryear on California's Skunk Train

by Peggy Vincent

"All aboard!" The conductor jumped onto the bottom step, signaled to the engineer and we were off on an unforgettable trip through California's coastal redwoods on the historic Skunk Train.

Take your time
My husband and I had just picked up our 15-year-old son, Skylar, from summer camp. To ease his transition into civilization after a month of camping, we chose to take a slow train ride (and I mean slooooow) to the coast, spend the night in a bed and breakfast inn and then ride the train back again.

Built in 1885 as a logging railroad through the redwood forests of California and extended east to Willits in 1922, the little trains received their "Skunk" nickname because of the original gas engines. Due to the prevailing winds off the ocean, "You could smell 'em before you saw 'em."

The trains are a major tourist attraction, plying the route between Ft. Bragg on the coast and Willits, 40 miles east on U.S. 101. But in addition to carrying visitors through the towering redwoods, the trains serve a necessary function -- stopping frequently to deliver mail, backpackers and campers into areas that are inaccessible by car. During California's rainy winters, the Skunk Train also supplies groceries to the families that live in the dense woods year-round.

Obviously sleep deprived from a last-night-at-camp bash, Skylar fell asleep with his head leaning against the frame of the open window before we had left the town of Willits. While he slept and slept, the train chugged through a pitch-black tunnel to the summit at 1,700 feet. A child with a GPS (global positioning system) declared that the summit is actually a little more than 2,000 feet, a fact that interested the friendly conductor. Apparently the last official calculation was made around the turn of the century, and the measurement has long been a subject of dispute.

A trip through the trees
Once through the tunnel, the train eased down the steep mountain into the redwoods, averaging 15 to 18 mph throughout the trip. Hundreds of giant trees that survived logging -- one estimated to be more than 1,000 years old -- grow right beside the tracks.

In spite of the heavy passenger load, the three passenger cars never felt crowded. Many people stood in the large, open observation car for a 180-degree view of the forest, as well as the incomparable view up the tall, straight redwood trunks to the blue sky above.

Skylar dozed on, head back, mouth open, occasionally twitching in his dreams. Meanwhile, we passed wildflowers, water tanks (they deliver 1,500 gallons per minute, a rate fast enough to fill the average, in-ground, backyard swimming pool in about 15 minutes!), grazing cattle, apple orchards, abandoned logging camps, a large campground for inner city children and finally the sparkling Noyo River nestled amongst dense groves of redwoods.

Skylar awakened at Northspur, the midway point where all trains stop. All passengers lay over for 30 to 45 minutes before completing their journey. As we were among the "through passengers," we needed to change trains to continue to Ft. Bragg on the foggy California coast.

Not your typical train station
But there was ample time to explore Northspur. It's not your typical train station. Located in the middle of a remote redwood grove, the area is shady and cool, easily accommodating a couple of hundred travelers without any sense of crowding. The dense forest loam and towering trees absorb sounds, and a sense of quiet pervades the entire area. Strolling musicians, yummy food, tourist souvenirs ranging from keychains to hand-carved redwood birdhouses, the usual postcards and T-shirts, and everything to drink from sodas and gourmet coffee to wine and designer beer fill the many stands.

Skylar disappeared into the food stalls with the speed of your typical starving teenager and emerged chomping on what he pronounced "the best hot dog I've ever eaten." Having had no fast food for a month might have colored his judgement, but it did look pretty good. I indulged in a wild blackberry sundae, and my husband contented himself with a glass of some exotic, deep amber ale.

A different view
Skylar joined his father and me on the observation deck for the second half of the trip down into Ft. Bragg. Children of all ages seemed content to explore the train, talk with the conductors, learn to negotiate the shifting floor panels where the cars joined and watch the passing scenery. Water, coffee and a few snacks are sold aboard the train, and bathrooms are provided.

The chuffing little train crossed 30 bridges and trestles along the scenic route, almost one bridge for each mile of track. The longest straight stretch of track on the entire route is only 1 mile in length, so the train constantly twists and turns as it tootles along, giving children many chances to wave at the engineer as the train negotiates yet another horseshoe bend.

As we approached the outskirts of Ft. Bragg, we left the shadows of the majestic redwoods behind. With the cooling effect of coastal fog, the temperature dropped, and vintage houses with manicured lawns replaced ramshackle logging camps. We passed through an even longer, darker tunnel, chugged along colorful Pudding Creek, and pulled into Ft. Bragg.

Old Stewart House
After checking into our inn, the Old Stewart House, just half a block from the train station, we showered, explored a little bit of the town, and had fish and chips at a nearby brew pub.

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