Trains are part of the fabric of the Upper Sacramento, a mixture of positive and negative that keeps you mindful of their presence and noise.

I’m sure locals have a more realistic vantage, having endured the extinction of the river in the Cantara Loop derailment many years ago.

I remember resenting their intrusion on my initial visit, but enjoy the spectacle in the years since then.

It’s an odd mixture of gaily “tagged” boxcars, horrendous vibration, deafening noise, and the wail of the horn; drowning your peaceful reverie in a cacophony of industry. It’s so out of place as to startle you no matter how often you witnessed their passing.

The watershed is a steep notch bisecting mountainous terrain where movement is never simple. Deep pocket water forces you onto the slope to move around boulders, and felt soles don’t offer much purchase. The level grade of the railroad tracks follow the river throughout, offering easy navigation and the vantage of elevation to scan likely water.

But you have to keep an eye on your surroundings, as blind corners can vomit a million tons of steel at a moment’s notice.

Squealing metal takes on an eerie component in the quiet of evening, with the draws and canyons alternately baffling and enhancing sound. Tromping the tracks back to the car after a full day of fishing and a sudden squeal lends wings to tired feet – especially when there’s so little clearance between you and all that freight.

Especially if you’re on the outside of the turn – in the river, you can’t help but expect some tank car to come over the lip and head for the streambed.

I was watching all those tank cars and remembering the Metam Sodium spill – wondering how much “soil fumigant” enters the Little Stinking on a daily basis, and how only the PPM (parts per million) makes one a stream enhancement and the other a stream killer. 2005 statistics suggest it is #5 in the list of chemicals applied to Yolo County, likely all 83,000 pounds used came through this same narrow canyon.

I still like trains – but now “eat a tomato, kill a trout” is running through my head – and maybe Vegans are bad for the environment …

I figure most of the caddis are addle-pated from the vibration of train traffic. Nothing like getting bounced around inside a stone casing to make an “October Caddis” emerge in November instead.