The weather forecast was typical for early spring in northern
New England – cloudy with a chance of rain the entire time. We
didn’t have time to be picky about the weather. We departed
Scranton at 9 p.m. and began the long, nine-hour drive to Weld.
We drove through the night, listening to an assortment of FM
radio stations along the way, as we tried to stay awake. Billy
Joel’s “You May be Right” and Blondie’s “Call Me” were big hits
back then. We heard each of them at least a few times.
The dawn broke gray as we arrived in Weld the next morn-
ing. We were tired but ready for action. We checked in at the
Mt. Blue Motel in Weld, grabbed a quick bite at the general
store in town, and tried to come up with a plan. We decided
to head for the division point yard at Madrid, around 19 miles
to the north. The trackside guide warned that the Allagash had
recently adopted a strict no-trespassing policy. The railroad
had always been friendly to railfans, but things had apparently
changed. We didn’t know what kind of reception we would get.
We arrived at Madrid a little while later. The reports were
correct. As we drove into the terminal, we were quickly con-
fronted by a railroad security cop. Fortunately, he was a
friendly sort. We explained what we were doing and he told
us about recent problems with vandalism, and that he just
couldn’t let us wander around the yard. He did say he’d call
the yardmaster to see if he could get us some information. We
could see AGR power lined up on the diesel servicing tracks
and inside the road’s brand-new, two-stall modern engine
house, but we couldn’t get close enough to get any pictures.
“As young teens, Joe and I had been fascinat-
ed by New England railroads.”
