An early morning ride on a Klamath Tribes Quail Trail bus

Running a bus in rural Southern Oregon isn’t as easy as it seems. Just ask Patricia Damrow.  She gets up in the predawn hours each day to fire up her bus and start her day.

Her morning routine consists of walking around her bus, checking the oil, and opening the big garage door to let the chilly December air in from the dark morning outside.

Damrow admits that letting the cold morning in could be dangerous, thanks to the rural landscape and her solitude. Wild animals and transient people could be lurking in the darkness. Her slight frame offers little protection against some of the larger creatures that lurk out there, but she climbs aboard her bus, puts on a brave face, and closes the doors before she sets out on her route.

Running a bus in rural Southern Oregon isn’t as easy as it seems. Just ask Patricia Damrow.  Damrow, a driver for the Klamath Tribes public bus transit service, gets up in the predawn hours each day to fire up the bus and start her day.

Her morning routine consists of walking around her bus, checking the oil, and opening the big garage door to let the chilly December air in from the dark morning outside. Then it’s time to begin. The daily route runs from 5:55 a.m. to 6:55 a.m.; service is offered five days a week, Monday through Friday. A second driver will take over halfway through the day.

Damrow greets the cold morning, appreciating the rural landscape and the solitude. She climbs aboard her bus, puts on a brave face, and closes the doors before she sets out on her route. “Some days, it’s terrible because it’s so dark,” she said during an interview with this reporter on an early morning drive along. “I live for the days when they start getting longer. Here, pretty soon, it’ll be a little bit lighter. By the time I get to town, I may see some daylight. So that’s always hard, but other than that, it’s not bad.”

While Damrow is a little nervous about the wilds of the chilly Chiloquin morning, her primary focus, the people she transports, motivates her to brave the early day. “I like my hours. I like getting up early,” she said. “And I get a different crew of people in the mornings. People going to work or going to school.”

The route is called the “Quail Trail.” It’s a free shuttle bus between the tiny community of Chiloquin and its more urban neighbor, Klamath Falls. The bus is funded by the Department of Transportation and the Oregon Department of Transportation but is housed within the confines of the Klamath Tribes.

We took a spin around town to pick up passengers at the tribal housing units and the Strong Hold, a transitional housing facility located in the center of town. A young man deftly hoists his electric bike on the bike rack hanging off the front of the bus. He climbs aboard, and Damrow tells me he is a student heading to Klamath Community College.

With our passengers aboard, Damrow pulls the bus onto Highway 97. The bus accelerates quickly into the dark morning. The studded snow tires grip the highway through the film of black ice. Before long, however, Damrow applies the brakes and slows to turn into the Klamoya Casino, where she stops to see if any passengers are waiting. She pauses for any stragglers to make their way, but no one appears, so she rolls on.

The half-hour drive to Klamath Falls is quiet, save for the sound of a radio station playing that fades in and out and the humming of the heater. Outside, the bus’s snow tire studs click on the pavement as it makes its way to its first stop. Given the early morning, conversations between the driver and onboarding passengers are short nods of “hello” before they settle into their seats.

As we arrive at our first stop in Klamath Falls, the young man on his way to school gets off, and a young woman gets on. Damrow tells me this young lady works at the hotel next to the casino. At each stop, Damrow scribbles a few entries into a log book and logs her time on a tablet she has stuffed into the bus console. Those entries are sent back to the main office back in downtown Chiloquin, where Damrow’s manager, Klamath Tribes Transit program manager Michelle Carson, and the Transit Program Specialist Ron Hugelet are just arriving to work.

As Ron sits down at his desk, his phone rings. Ron said the phone can ring a few hundred times throughout the day. The free bus is just part of all the rides they provide to the public. They also manage all the rides for medical transport to places like Medford and Bend, as well as shopping trips, doctor appointments, and, of course, getting kids to school. As a publicly funded bus system, the bus complies with the Americans with Disabilities Act, and each bus is fitted with a wheelchair lift, and the bus service is free.

A fleet of five buses assists the Quail Trail transportation service. The team of drivers includes Damrow, another full-time driver for afternoons, a part-time driver, and a team of temporary drivers. The team transports riders across the county to wherever they need to go, and all rides are free of charge.

As Carson explained, the bus is fully commanded by the drivers, who assess riders as they board. “Because, if you’ve got a rider that’s going, you kind of question, well, are they intoxicated? Then, they don’t ride,” she said. “We can’t have it driving that many miles because you never know what you’re going to get if you have someone that’s riding that is going to be volatile. And, so, it’s, it’s pretty much the choice of the bus driver. It is their bus. That’s their workplace. So, whatever happens, it’s under them what happens is what happens.” Carson explained that bus drivers also make decisions about road conditions, passenger safety, and all manner of operations.

Back on the bus, the sun is up, and the radio chatter fills the cabin. Damrow welcomes several young men on the bus as we drive through Chiloquin. The men greet Damrow as if they have always known her.  One young man named Jansen Harrington decides to speak to me.

“I’ve been a passenger in this bus for about a year now,” he said. “You know, Pat is a great driver. They’re very consistent. They text me, you know, like they give out their personal numbers, just in case, because I work nine to five in the Stronghold. And you know, they’ve been here for me since, since the day I started. If the roads are too bad, they’ll shoot me a text, and they’ll say, ‘Hey, you know, like the bus is running a little bit late.’”

As the bus stops in front of the Klamath Tribes Administration building in Chiloquin, I thank Damrow for allowing me to share the ride and disembark the bus. She warmly thanks me for riding and shakes my hand. I walk off the bus and watch as it slowly makes its way back to the road. The bus pulls onto the highway, and I watch it as the noise of the snow tires fades away, and I start humming, “The people on the bus go bump, bump, bump. All over town.”