WaltersRail : Fall Colors II

Westbound Amtrak approaching Dotsero.

Here begins Part II of our survey of fall colors along America's railroads. In many respects, fall is the best time of year for outdoor photography. The temperature is pleasant, and the sun is low enough in the southern sky to capture presentable images from sunrise to sunset.

In the summer, with the midday sun directly overhead, colors are as washed out as a faded pair of jeans. For years, my summer railfanning has begun sometime after sunrise until about 10:30 a.m. When I was young, I would spend the next 5-6 hours eating lunch and then waiting for the sun to drop low enough in the west to produce the vivid colors that make slide photography so exhilarating. (For a discussion of both the joys and sorrows of slide photography, see https://www.waltersrail.com/2016/02/mountains-may-begin-with-montana-but_24.html.)

As I write, I am 75 years old. Now during railfan trips during the summer, in the middle of the day I eat lunch and then take a nap. The older I grow, the longer the nap.

The images below were captured over 44 years -- from 1982 to 2025. I hope to capture many more, but for now these will have to do. Whether they are worthwhile is left to the judgement of the reader.

Yellowstone River

East of Livingston, Montana, the Yellowstone River flows through wide valleys and narrow canyons in bucolic scenes that remind one why the American West is perhaps the most mythologized region on the planet. Although the country is semi-arid and supports little timber, the river itself is lined with cottonwoods that turn bright yellow, red and orange in October. The tracks of the Northern Pacific followed the river valley from Glendive, Montana (near the North Dakota border) west to Livingston, then turned away from the water to climb Bozeman Pass. The Northern Pacific later became part of Burlington Northern, which later leased the Billings-Livingston line to Montana Rail Link, which later sold the lease back to BNSF, BN's successor. If you can follow all that, you probably need counseling.

Interstate 94 follows the river and railroad closely through a Big Sky Country that never fails to delight the traveler.

A westbound loaded coal train approaches Greycliff, Montana.

Eastbound beside the Yellowstone River.

Eastbound near Carney, Montana.

Westbound along the Yellowstone River.

Greycliff, Montana.

Same train further west.

Westbound beneath Crazy Peak.

Eastbound in Mcadows Canyon.

Eastbound leaving Livingston, Montana.

Another eastbound leaving Livingston.

Echo Canyon

The scouts for the first transcontinental railroad were tasked to find a route to the Pacific with the fewest and shallowest grades, no easy chore in a country ribbed like a washboard with mountains. Yet men on horseback stumbled onto the "Gangplank" across the Rockies, a relatively smooth though angled climb to the top of Wyoming's Sherman Hill that, for reasons that geologists to this day do not fully understand, was not heavily eroded like the surrounding peaks. Instead, this route was more like a wheel chair ramp to an elevated porch. It could have been dubbed the "Wheel Chair Ramp," though such would clash with 21st century sensibilities. The climb was steep and winter weather at the summit extreme, but they were nothing compared to the Moffat Route west of Denver.

Then the railroad crossed the badlands of Wyoming, and the scouts blazed a trail north of Medicine Bow and Elk Mountains, keeping grades to a minimum, until they reached the Overthrust Belt in the southwest corner of the state, a line of north-south mountains extending into Idaho and Utah, created by oceanic plates along the western margin of North America moving east and subducting into the ground, pushing up the land above -- about 100 miles north to south and 60 miles east to west.

Aerial view of the Overthrust Belt.
https://marlimillerphoto.com/images/SrF-17.jpg

The Union Pacific crossed the summit at Aspen Tunnel, one of only two between Omaha and Ogden, the second being Hermosa Tunnel on Sherman Hill. When the line was double-tracked, Altamont Tunnel was constructed north of the original bore.

Past the tunnels, the railroad runs downgrade off the Overthrust Belt to Evanston, Wyoming, where begins the long descent into the Salt Lake Valley through Echo Canyon -- a hollow through the Wasatch Mountains used for thousands of years by wildlife and natives migrating between the Rockies and the Great Salt Lake. The 24 mile passage eventually became a freeway for pack trains, emigrant wagons, military columns, Pony Express, Overland Stage, transcontinental railroad, Lincoln Highway and Interstate 80.

The grade is downhill westbound, descending from 6,749 feet at Evanston to 5,777 feet at Echo, Utah at the west end of the canyon. Beyond, the railroad descends another 1500 feet before reaching Ogden, Utah, at the edge of the Great Salt Lake.

The area is semi-arid, receiving less than 20 inches of rain per year, but the canyon floor is home to small, almost dwarf trees supported by moisture from Echo Creek. In late September, the leaves put on a colorful display seemingly out of place in a dry, sandstone landscape.

On a rainy September day, Union Pacific trains pass in the Overthrust Belt. The photographer is standing above Aspen Tunnel.

Westbound autos in Echo Canyon.

Eastbound stacks.

DPU of same train.

DPU of westbound. The Lincoln Highway (first transcontinental highway) is behind the train.

Westbound beside newly installed CTC signals.

Empty diesel tankers returning to Sinclair refinery.

Westbound potash to Ogden and beyond.

DPU of same train.

Westbound diesel from Sinclair's Wyoming facility.

Hottest train on the line.

DPU on westbound grain.

North Carolina Mountains

In early November 1982, while vacationing with my wife, I spent an afternoon in the mountains near Old Fort, North Carolina, photographing Southern Railroad freights crossing the Blue Ridge. The area contains some famous loops, buried in foliage, that I could not figure out how to photograph properly, so I contented myself with shots along the tracks.

I believe that the line was heavily damaged by Hurricane Hellene in 2023 and all traffic subsequently embargoed. News reports indicate that Norfolk Southern intends to rebuild damaged portions of the line. Until then, these images must suffice.

Loaded coal rolling downgrade. Southern ran almost all of its lead units long-hood forward.

Downgrade with loaded grain.

A short local, with caboose, straining into the grade.

Mullan Pass

Since the demise of Tennessee Pass, the eastern side of Mullan Pass has become my favorite American railroad grade. The bulk of traffic up the mountain consists of coal and grain, both of which struggle mightily into the 2.2 percent hill. Since the advent of alternating current traction motors, which allow trains to climb the grade as slow as 5 mph without stalling, one can in several locations walk beside a loaded coal train without losing ground.

Broken knuckles are common. I once saw a train go into emergency when two coal cars broke apart in the summit tunnel. The crew managed to repair the damage and continue west but only after the arrival of an additional helper set from Helena to get the heavy train started on the steep grade.

At 5,900 feet, Mullan is about 4,000 feet lower than Tennessee Pass, but the climb to the top for westbounds is as arduous and spectacular as was the climb for eastbounds at Tennessee Pass. Now that BNSF has taken over the line and about doubled the number of trains from Montana Rail Link operations, Mullan Pass, unlike Tennessee, gives no indication that abandonment is on the horizon, for which we can all give thanks.

MRL's Laumis on the approach to Austin.

This manifest has just emerged from the summit tunnel and is posing on Mullan Trestle.

This is the coal train that broke apart at the summit, with the extra helper set pushing on the rear.

DPU on loaded coal just above Austin.

Helper set on same train.

Laumis on the west side of the hill.

Powder River Basin

It never occurred to me that the Powder River Basin might come alive with fall foliage, because that area is almost completely bereft of deciduous trees, which huddle like pilgrims in low hollows that collect just enough moisture in an arid landscape to support what Easterners would call "dwarfs." Yet a late September trip to the coal mines revealed surprising color in an otherwise barren world.

I would not call the Powder River displays spectacular. "Surprising" is closer to the truth. Seeing bright yellows and oranges in a land that receives about 12 inches of rain per year, barely above desert status, was a great pleasure, like going to a dreaded social event with your wife and discovering an old friend you haven't seen in years.

That last sentence makes it sound as though I do not love my wife. I do love her, just not her social events. At any rate, following are images of what I accidentally discovered in the Powder River Basin.

An empty Union Pacific coal train approaches Shawnee Junction.

Another. The signal in the foreground belongs to BNSF's Orin Line.

Southbound loaded BNSF coal. UP's coal line is behind and above the trees. Shawnee Junction is about a half mile to the left of this image.

Empty UP again.

BNSF coming off the junction.

Loaded northbound coal approaching Donkey Creek Junction.

Pushers on empty southbound coal coming off Donkey Creek Junction.

Pushers on empties just north of Orin Junction.

More empties north of Orin Junction.

Back East

Native Oklahomans (those whose roots go back at least three generations in the state) are a mixture of West and South. John Grisham has described us as "a pleasant blend of small-town southerners and independent westerners."

Those in southeastern Oklahoma, where the Choctaw once owned slaves, are Southern, while those in the Panhandle are pure Western. I come from central Oklahoma and so am the mix that Grisham describes, though I don't think of myself as "pleasant."

Where railroads are concerned, however, my heart lies solely in the West. I have spent the better portion of my life in the deserts of the Southwest and the forests of the Northwest, with only a very occasional sojourn east of the Mississippi River.

What follows are fall colors I have captured in the Northeast while traveling with my friend Dale Jacobson. Foliage there is spectacular in October, and if I have any regrets in life (and I have several), I wish I had spent more time in Pennsylvania, Maryland and surroundings.

I will try to rectify that error as I grow older, at least as long as I have the strength to rectify anything.

Somewhere east of Harper's Ferry. I don't remember the exact location, and neither does Dale.

Same location.

Norfolk Southern on the old Pennsylvania Railroad mainline.

Another.

Conrail near Altoona. With the color so spectacular, railfans were as thick as flies, and Dale and I did not attempt Horseshoe Curve. That is a big difference between my home and the Northeast. I very occasionally see another railfan in Oklahoma. In places like Pennsylvania, railfans are almost ubiquitous.

A four-track mainline, plus siding, is breathtaking, at least for me.

"Only" three tracks.

Two tracks for the hottest train on the railroad.

Loaded coal.

Tehachapi Pass

When one thinks of fall foliage, one generally does not think of Tehachapi Pass, home to few deciduous trees and also bereft of the seasonal weather that produces color. There are basically two seasons in Tehachapi -- rainy and dry, though it is sometimes cold enough at the top of the mountains to produce snow.

So I was quite surprised when, many years ago, I discovered a small pocket of color tucked away in the narrow valley below Caliente. We can't really call this fall foliage, because the images below were taken in early January.

A loaded grainer grinds upgrade towards the horseshoe at Caliente.

About thirty minutes later, two BNSF intermodals stopped cheek to jowl on the mainline.

A short time later, a third intermodal came through on the second track.

The Road to Missoula

While returning to Spokane, Washington, for a flight home, I stumbled upon a westbound loaded coal train and followed it to Missoula. Along the way I discovered a few locations with fall foliage. At one point, the train crew threw me a note out the cab window that said another coal load was following about 15 minutes behind. Unfortunately, I had a plane to catch, so after Missoula I put the "pedal to the metal" and zoomed west into Idaho.