April 9, 2017
Intel confirmed. Signals lit. Train
imminent. Anticipation. I scope out the area. It’s cold enough that
I’ve got to don another jacket from my grip. I plant my pod and
frame. A couple of test shots; some calculations; corresponding
adjustments: I’m ready. Won’t be long now. No sound, just the
banter between us aficionados and the distant, distinct,
all-to-familiar note. Not much around. Neith moonlit, near-clear
skies of constellations twinkling are a few, mostly dark houses;
abandoned Bates-like motel; shuttered “Dealers in Mercantile;”
closed brick schoolhouse; foundation of a long raised speeder shed;
crossing gates for Manila Road that leads to nowhere but rusty
elevators and dusty fields, but Espanola, home to a handful of
diehard residents, has never lost its strategic railroad importance.
Thousands of miles away in the Lone Star State, BNSF dispatchers rely
on it to orchestra meets for its plenty long siding for longer and
longer and of late, more frequent freights. But this is no freight
we’re here to record. It’s the eastbound Seattle section of the
Builder now blowing for the road to nowhere and “through” this
nondescript “place,” streaking silver, red, blue and gold across
our frame as it slips its sleepy and slumbering passengers past our
prone and poised cameras in less than seconds leaving this indelible
photographic mark four minutes into the morning. Quickly we compare
our results: “Nice! Cool! Sweet!” Disassemble and vacate. The
townsfolk? None the wiser to our momentary presence and fortuitous
intent: to catch the Empire Builder track-speeding at Espanola.
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