To generate revenue, railroads made a special effort to promote tourism in the West. Wordsmiths worked diligently to create visions of tourist wonderlands in the mountains, lakes, and river valleys along the railroad right of way.

There was no shortage of gushing descriptions of the passing landscape as trains chugged their way west. Some seemed to almost exhaust the descriptive possibilities of the English language. The following excerpt from a Northern Pacific brochure is typical of the writing style of the day. Today it sounds more like Disney’s Magic Mountain or a passage from a romance novel than a train ride over the Cascades.

"The slow approach to the [Cascade Mountains] summit dragged by another team of iron monsters hitched in tandem; the view from the car window over the wide wastes of mountain billows, where a yawning gulf below or a towering cliff above intensifies the chaotic jumble about us; the plunge from daylight into night as the tunnel hides us from the world, and then the swift rush out, and down the mountain, racing time itself as we swiftly descend into the wild and weird gorge of Green River, forms an episode in the long journey to be remembered."1

Was this writer simply hyping the railroad or was he truly awed by the experience? It’s reasonable to believe the latter. Rail travel had become routine in late nineteenth century, especially in the East. But this particular journey was dramatically different from anything seen before. There were few "yawning" gulfs and "towering" cliffs in the populated East Coast or in the flat Midwest. Riding in a noisy, rattling railcar over the rugged Cascade Mountains -- even at a sluggish 20 mph -- must have been an eye-popping experience for a first timer.