On the Wrong Side of the Tracks

I made a swing up to Cape Rock to check out the river level and the huge sandbar hugging the Illinois banks. After taking a couple of shots, I pulled into the small park at the bottom of The Rock to get a different angle. You can click on the photos to make them larger.

Tracks were open

The BNSF tracks were clear to the south. As soon as I crossed the main line and siding and looked north, I spotted the sunken barges I posted on October 21.

Where’d that train come from?

I spent about 45 minutes shooting the barges, then turned to see a long freight blocking my path back to the parking lot. This young fisherman was stuck on the wrong side of the tracks, too. Since these cars were parked on the siding, I thought maybe they were making way for a faster freight on the main line. Since most local trains aren’t that long, I decided to start walking south to see if I could get around it.

This one one of those situations where Plans A, B and C all involved swimming: I had the Mississippi River to my east; if the train extended south to Red Star, I was going to run into Sloan Creek; if it went too far north, there was Juden Creek to contend with.

Does this thing have an end?

About a quarter mile down the tracks, I ran into two fishermen walking north. “How far does this thing stretch to the south?” I asked.

“A long way,” one replied.

“Well, the head end of it is out of sight at Cape Rock, so I’m going to keep walking south.”

Way off in the distance, I could hear a train horn. Probably blowing at the crossings in town, I thought. Shouldn’t be too long before it passes, then the train on the siding will pull out, I was hoping. The clouds were building up, the wind was getting stronger and all I was wearing was a light long-sleeve shirt covered with a wool vest I had picked up for twelve bucks off a remaindered rack at Monteagle Pass.

Walking on railroad ballast is no fun, but I didn’t have much choice: there had been a rain recently that made the non-gravel areas full of soft mud. Adding to my distress was the audio book I had been listening to on the trip: Stephen King’s The Long Walk. I kept fearing that if my pace dropped below four miles an hour that someone would terminate me.

A little beyond this point, I ran across a bunch of bones on and around the track. They were too big to be a dog and they weren’t human, so I assumed that a deer picked a bad time to cross the tracks. I picked up a clean piece of vertebrae as a souvenir for Brother Mark.

Here comes the local

It was taking a long, long time for the northbound train to get here for all the whistling it was doing. When it pulled into sight, it had two power units, which meant that it was probably the local freight I shot back in April 2010.

Caboose confirmed it

When the caboose passed, I knew it was the local, probably headed to Proctor & Gamble to drop cars. I decided I’d start walking north again, figuring that once the local passed the stopped freight, it would pull out of the siding.

Getting ready for crew change

Then, the local started backing up and conductor Randy Graviett popped out of the caboose. He explained that they needed to do a crew change. They were going to back the train up far enough he could hop on the engine and go up north of Cape Rock to pick up a new crew. He said the train on the siding was being held up until a dispatcher in Texas told it to proceed.

Delay let me shoot Dredge Potter

By the time I made it north to the parking lot across from Cape Rock, the freight on the siding had pulled out. That was the good news. The bad news was that the local was blocking my path north and south as far as I could see. While I was waiting for the train to move, I spotted the Dredge Potter and her pushboat, The Prairie Du Rocher headed upriver. Not a bad day when you can shoot three stories in a three hours.

I was beginning to get chilly, so I decided to see how far north the local stretched. I finally came upon the head end about half-way to Twin Trees Park. Once I got back on the road, I started counting train cars. I can’t remember now if it was 29 or 39 cars back to the parking lot. I’m going to guess my total walking for the afternoon was about four or five miles on railroad ballast.

 

Bill Emerson Memorial Bridge

We were hitting East Cape just past sunset on the way back from Kentucky Lake. I couldn’t resist shooting some photos of the Bill Emerson Memorial Bridge as we approached it.

No, I wasn’t looking through the viewfinder instead of driving. I was resting my camera-holding hand on the top of the steering wheel and blindly pressing the button. Exposure and focus were done by the camera, for the most part, although the last thing I shot before this was set to underexpose 1.3 stops.That was probably a lucky thing because a normal exposure would have been too light.

If you like the photo, I’ll take credit for picking the best frames out of about 60 shots.

Bridge photo gallery

Click on any picture to make it larger, then click on the left or right side of the image to move through the gallery. The distant shot is blurry because the camera was set to a slow 200 ISO for a previous shoot in bright sunlight. When I noticed the exposure sounded like it was about two seconds long, I pulled off to the side of the road and told the camera to shift to a more sensitive “film” setting when the shutter speed fell below 1/30 second. The shot above was 1/30 of a second at an ISO of 1100.

Perfect River Night

I made a run downtown, but the place I needed to go was closed, so I took a stroll down to the riverfront. It was a perfect night. There was a guy sitting near the Broadway entrance to the floodwall playing a guitar. Next to him was a buddy with a huge boxer on a leash. He started to move him out of my way, but the dog was wagging his tail and I motioned him to stay put.

There’s something about the river at night that brings out the friendlies. It’s like the setting breaks down the barriers we erect when we’re walking down Main Street. Everyone who came by smiled and made a nice comment about the weather or the river. The temps were in the low 70s or high 60, with almost no wind.

The photo was kind of dull until these two young women walked down to the water’s edge to take photos with their cell phones. (It would have been better if they had strayed off to the left just a tad more. That would have made a nice triangle of them, the bridge and the bollard.)

I started to thank them for adding visual interest to my photo, but they didn’t speak much English (or they were faking it to get rid of the guy they thought was hitting on them). When I showed them their photo on the display of my camera, they nodded and understood.

Bill Emerson Memorial Bridge

I mentioned that we were on a pecan mission the other day. I knew of a couple of nice pecan trees right near the old Mississippi River traffic bridge overlook on the River Campus, so I pulled in to see they had dropped any nuts. Either they had been all picked up or my car headlights didn’t spotlight them, so I came up dry.

I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to shoot a four-frame panorama of the Bill Emerson Memorial Bridge. Like always, you can click on the photos to make them larger.

 

Hecht’s “Poof”

Some members of the Arts Council of Southeast Missouri journeyed to Altenburg to see my photo exhibit and liked what they saw. I stopped by the gallery at 32 North Main Tuesday to see what we might work out in 2013ish. I was very flattered by their comments.

But, that’s not the reason for this post. (By the way, click on the photos to make them larger.)

Does this look familiar?

“Did that come from where I think it did?” I asked Gallery Board Chair Lori Ann Kinder.

“Hecht’s. I had it recovered in a more neutral color so it would fit in better here.”

She said they call it “Poof.” Nobody knew the official spelling of poof, so we’ll go with “Poof.”

When I wrote about Hecht’s in 2010, many of the readers mentioned Poof. We all remembered it as Red on the Male Color Chart Scale, which contains only Primary Colors. I thought it was made of some slick material, but everyone else voted velvet. They’re probably right.

Close Encounters of the Third Kind

I kept waiting for Richard Dreyfuss to come sliding in looking for the strange mountain-like object in front of me like he did in Close Encounters.

Like Dreyfuss in the movie, I kept staring at it. Puzzling away at it.

Something wasn’t quite right. When I was a little kid parked on the thing while Mother did whatever Mothers do in a fancy dress shop, I could have sworn the thing was 8 feet tall. I’m pretty sure I never tried to scale Cape’s dress shop Matterhorn – I might not have been able to see Mother, but there’s no doubt that she could see ME – but I’m sure it would have taken Sherpas and supplemental oxygen to make it to the top had I gotten up enough nerve.

Today’s Poof is tiny in comparison. I could stand next to it and look over the top of it, making it somewhere in the 5-foot range or less. Lori Ann swore she hadn’t had the top 3 or 4 feet lopped off.

Better see exhibit soon

If you want to see my photo exhibit in Altenburg, better go soon. It’s coming down around November 9 to make room for the annual Christmas tree exhibit. There are plenty of calendars and show catalogs left over from the Immigration Conference last week. There are also a limited number of prints from the show available. If you go up this weekend, you might catch me there.