SWEDE TOWN—The Frontrunner train had only moved a couple miles from North Temple Station and through the Utah Transit Authority railyard—where the track straightens out near the Davis County line—when operator James Morriss throttled back and slowed the hulking vehicle to a lumbering crawl.
Ahead, a work crew was visible at one of the roughly 70 surface crossings that disrupt the 88-mile-long Frontrunner route, which meant even stricter speed controls on top of the train’s already ponderous pace between Salt Lake City and Woods Cross.
It was a training day for Morriss, working under the supervision of UTA operator Christa Pulver. As Morriss approached the crossing and activated the train’s piercing horn—an all-too-familiar sound for Utahns who live near the railway—a man on the work crew reflexively grimaced and jerked his hands up to cover his ears, prompting Pulver to note his lack of protective equipment.
“They don’t have their PPE,” Pulver said.
Frontrunner’s maximum speed is 79 miles per hour, making it fairly competitive with rush-hour freeway traffic on those segments of track where operators are able to hit the gas. Problem is, those top-speed segments are frequently disrupted by mandatory slow-down sections—passenger stops, curves, construction zones, crossings—and delays have a cascading effect that spreads throughout the rail network.
“Because we have such a largely single-track operation, if you delay one train it doesn’t just delay that one train,” said Zac Thomas, UTA’s commuter rail general manager. “Train 1 leaving five minutes late is going to pass that five-minute delay onto the next train—it will then pass its delay on to the next train, and now the whole system is down.”
Plans are advancing to mitigate some of those problem spots and bring more sections of track up to the 79 mph range. Between 2026 and 2029, the Frontrunner route will be realigned near 600 North in Salt Lake City—where UTA’s heavy rail facilities are located—and a “strategic” double-tracking project will see construction of new lengths of parallel rail, ameliorating the domino effect of train delays and improving Frontrunner’s peak frequency to just 15 minutes.
While those changes are welcome news to transit riders, they remain years away. And the “strategic” nature of the double-tracking work is indicative of how the transit agency can only realistically hope for incremental progress as the Wasatch Front approaches the 20th anniversary of Frontrunner services, a time period that coincides with the construction of the Mountain View and West Davis corridors, the conversion of the Bangerter and 89 highways into freeways, the widening of Interstate 80 and, coming soon, the widening of Interstate 15 through the same area where Morriss had to hit the brakes.
Adding to today’s headache is a recent decision by federal inspectors to revoke the Wasatch Front’s “Quiet Zone” status, forcing both UTA’s passenger vehicles and Union Pacific’s freight trains to blow their horns at every crossing and at every hour, day or night. The quiet zone had been in place for 16 years, aiding the proliferation of transit-oriented housing along the tracks. But Utah cities were found to be out of compliance with their crossing maintenance, resulting in a harsh reminder of what it means to reside near rail.
“The bad part about a train is it doesn’t stop very quickly. A freight train at normal speed takes over a mile to come to a stop and a passenger train takes about half a mile,” Thomas said. “By the time you usually recognize something, it’s unfortunately too late—so sounding the horn, ringing the bell, doing anything you can to bring attention that there's a train coming.”
Smooth Operator
Frontrunner operator Derek Evans has worked for the transit agency for almost two years after leaving a career in restaurant accounting and payroll services. He said he grew up liking trains and was familiar with the rail industry, and felt that he needed a change.
Now, he spends his working days lapping the 88-mile route between Provo and Ogden, completing between one and two round trips, depending on his shift length. Generally speaking, it’s a two-man job—one employee walks the passenger coaches while the other operates the diesel controls, swapping tasks at routine intervals.
“You feel like you're kind of invincible up there [in the cab]. The whole train is like a million pounds,” Evans said. “When you’re not operating, you’re the conductor—so you’re walking the train, helping passengers. If anybody has questions, you’re answering those, and just kind of making sure nobody is up to no good.”
Without the ability to steer or swerve, Evans said the job comes down to speed and momentum. Echoing Thomas’ comments, he noted that it takes one-half mile or more to bring Frontrunner to a full stop. But he added that the ever-changing speed limits—79 mph here, 45 mph there, 30 mph ahead, then back to 79 mph—means he’s constantly anticipating and preparing for those shifts, balancing the need to keep a route schedule with the need for gradual acceleration and deceleration, while also keeping a ready eye for trespassers or other unpredictable hazards on the track itself.
“You’re hyper-focused for, like, two hours,” Evans said. “By the end of that two hours from Provo to Ogden, you’re ready for a break.”
And like a motorist who makes the same commute every day, Evans has memorized the quirks of his route. He noted a field in American Fork where he regularly sees groundhogs. He said he likes the northbound entrance to Salt Lake City—zipping through the railyard between 3300 South and 2100 South before throttling down, passing under I-15 and seeing the skyline open up ahead of him.
At approximately 9800 South, where a bridge (or “flyover”) moves Frontrunner from one side of the Union Pacific tracks to the other, Evans described a “slingshot” effect where a skilled operator can hit the apex at top speed, climbing up alongside the freeway and blowing past the gridlock, before sliding down the other side.
“The flyover can be kind of fun,” he said. “It’s tilted in such a way that when you’re going northbound, you can look out the loco window and there’s not really anything below you.”
Asked what everyday Utahns should know about the work, Evans said he wished people were better at recognizing the need to stay out of a train’s way. Each year sees 5 or 6 fatal train collisions in Utah—including a troubling number of seemingly intentional suicides—and Evans stressed that a train is much larger, heavier and slower to stop than a semi-truck or other large vehicle one would encounter on a road.
“I have not had an incident with a trespasser. I’ve had a couple close calls—it certainly gets your heart racing,” Evans said. “It's heavy machinery and none of us operators, engineers on any railroad, want to deal with an incident like that.”
All Aboard
While UTA essentially started out as a bus service, Frontrunner is the backbone of today’s transit network. Bus and Trax routes feed into and out of Frontrunner stations, and are scheduled based on maximizing connections with the regional train.
That’s why, Thomas explained, the planned improvements to Frontrunner will ripple out through the entire system.
“We’re really excited about the extra service and extra frequency. It’s one of the big things when you talk to people,” Thomas said. “At the most, they’ll have to wait a half-hour. And during peak times, it will only be 15 minutes—so even if you miss your train there will be another one 15 minutes right behind it.”
The better transit operates, the more Utah’s entire transportation network is able to efficiently move large numbers of people. That has obvious implications for major events like the 2034 Winter Olympics, but also recurring affairs like a Utah Jazz game or the day-to-day grind of the morning and afternoon commutes, as many people have no realistic option but to drive and, therefore, benefit from having as few other people on the road as possible.
UTA has fared better than most U.S. transit agencies, whose riderships counts were decimated by the COVID pandemic. While not yet back to pre-2019 levels, daily boardings are on the rise and the network as a whole is on pace to hit 40 million riders in 2024.
But Thomas also emphasized the user experience of transit. While a Frontrunner ride is certainly stressful for the operator, it affords a much higher degree of calm to passengers than if they were to drive their own vehicles.
“You can relax. You can read a book, take a nap, listen to music—it’s just a lot more enjoyable, a lot more stress-free,” Thomas said. “If people are afraid or tentative to try it out, come give it a shot. See what we have to offer.”
And those stress levels are only expected to fall: double-tracking will help the trains run on time, facilitating local bus and Trax connections; track realignment and grade separation will allow for faster and more consistent train speeds, while sprawling population growth will only trap drivers in ever-worsening congestion; and surface crossings will be improved (if not eliminated), reducing the risk of fatal collisions and allowing for “Quiet Zone” status to be restored.
“With freight you’re moving lumber, coal, oil, things like that,” Thomas said. “Passenger service is completely different. You’re moving people—that’s the most valuable thing out there. So safety is always first and foremost in everything we do and all the decisions we make.”