The Overland Tales
Chapter 7: Transcendental IDGAF
Mike, Jimmy and I developed a no-fucks-given plan for chasing the steam train long before we left New Jersey. We knew we would be side by side with thousands of people doing the same thing and among the throng would be plenty of aggressive, stressed-out train buffs driving like demons to get to their next photo spot. The Utah State Police put out notices earlier in the week reminding would-be chasers that risky driving in pursuit of a photograph will not be tolerated. The train is scheduled stop every hour or so to the check the locomotive. Our plan? Endeavor to find one spot between each stop. Anything more will be a bonus. Anything less is OK, too.
I have no problem honoring our chase plans. A couple of days ago, somewhere out along the Western Pacific, I made the full transition into what the acronym generation might call transcendental IDGAF. Anything I want to do is on the table (within moral, legal and financial boundaries, of course) and it’s all good. Train chasing helps me access that level of freedom. Some have yoga or meditation; I have a full tank of gas and the itch to keep moving along the tracks. The trains give me focus, while the happenstance of when and where they might be going brings reason to visit destinations I’d otherwise miss.
Transcendental IDGAF comes with permission to excel, fuck up or check out as I see fit. If I capture some neat scenes of the train, maybe I will share them. If I don’t?
So what?
I haven’t always been this way. I used to be a competitive train chaser who tried to get as many shots as possible no matter what. Weather, traffic and other railfans all were just obstacles to my success. Looking back, I see how ridiculous it was to have a hobby under a halo of pressure from things I could not control. And honestly, many times the pictures could have been better. Aggro train chasing means you are always looking for quick’n’easy shots right off the highway shoulder or at a road crossing where you can speed on to the next spot the moment your shutter clicks. The percipience honed chasing trains for over 40 years revealed a simple lesson: to get the good stuff, you need to forgo the mediocre. The soul of a good photograph is rarely found when one is out trying to get as many images as possible.
Thus, here we are at Castle Rock, Utah among at least 200 other folks patiently waiting for the show. I figure the train is still a good 30 minutes away. I imagine that somewhere down Echo Canyon scenes from Death Race 3000 are being recreated at an alarming rate. I don’t care. Transcendental IDGAF.
It’s evident we are standing with people who really want to be here. Just within earshot are photographers from Germany, France, Canada, China, England and Australia. All of us jostling for space along a cliff overlooking Echo Creek, the original 1869 transcontinental railroad alignment and the 1916 low- grade line blasted through the far hillside. The latter is where the train will be. \
And it must be coming soon, as I can see the parade of chasers coming up Interstate 80. They’re racing off the exit ramp, jamming their cars into any empty space, running to the cliff, red faced and exhausted. There’s no room for them. Should have been here earlier.
The train eases through the tunnels. It’s a scene I never thought I would see in person. Jimmy , Mike and I savor it along with a few other like-minded observers. Before the train is out of sight, the rest of the gaggle is back on the road to chase. It’s less than 20 miles to Evanston and the end of the day’s run. Got to get that maximum number of shots in.
We watch as the train disappears around a hillside on its way to the summit at Wahsatch.
Mission accomplished. Transcendental IDGAF.
Read the entire ebook version with many additional photographs
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