Exposed on Kodachrome 25 (PKM) with a Leica M2 and 50mm Summicron.
While on the topic of the former Erie Railroad, I thought I would post this unpublished view of brand new New York, Susquehanna & Western Dash8-40Bs working a Delaware & Hudson freight on Conrail’s former Erie route between Hornell and Buffalo, New York.
The new units were ordered by NYS&W during its brief court-ordered operation of D&H between 1988 and 1990.
I started following this train earlier in the day. It was a typical western New York morning, with fits of sun bursting through a deck of thick gray clouds.
That’s the reason for this unusual composition: for a moment the sun emerged to flush the front of the bright yellow GE’s. I made a spot decision to photograph the train more distant than I’d originally intended.
At that time, Conrail was only maintaining the old number 2 track (eastward mainline) for 10 mph. Most traffic was routed on the number 1 main (traditionally the westward track) that was in much better condition. However, by Spring of 1989, Conrail’s Erie route was bursting with traffic. To avoid congestion, Conrail’s dispatcher opted to keep this D&H train bumping along at 10mph, while westward traffic stayed on the faster track.
East of Canaseraga, the Erie line was in characteristic grade separated arrangement that probably dated from Underwood-era improvements in the early 20th century. If I write my book on the Erie, I’ll be finally able to confirm this fact.
In the early 1990s, Conrail reconfigured this portion of the Erie. It replaced the traditional directional double-track with a single-track main and centralized traffic control-style system. The change resulted in abandonment of the number 1 main at this location, and spelled the end for the steam-era Union Switch & Signal Style-S upper quadrant semaphores.
Just for the record, I made several closer views of this train.
Chicago suburban passenger railway, Metra operated the only fleet of Electro-Motive Division F40Cs a six-motor cowl-type passenger locomotive similar to Amtrak’s SDP40F, but equipped with HEP (headend power), and featured corrugated stainless-steel side paneling. The 5 EMD F40Cs, were acquired through Metra predecessor agency for service on Milwaukee Road. Numbered 600-614, the F40Cs were the last Metra heritage units in regular passenger service.
These were an unusual modern application of a six-motor diesel for passenger service. Since the mid-1970s, most passenger locomotives have been four-motor ‘B-B’ models.
They exhibit General Motors classic well-balanced utilitarian appearance, and are similar to other cowl models built from the late 1960s and mid-1970s.
METRA F40C 614 works west at A2 tower on June 22, 2004.
These were among the locomotives I featured in my popular book EMD Locomotives published in 2006. Available from my publish Voyageur Press or at Amazon. I also discuss their history in my recent North American Locomotives.
A pan photo of Metra 606 catches the evening glint near Tower A5.
I like to offer special thanks to Marshall Beecher for providing location assistance in Chicago.
A horse-drawn wagon crosses the line at Nowa Weis, Poland. The semaphores have ‘x’s’ on them indicating they are out of service. Exposed on 120 black & white film with a Rollei Model T.
One my favorite images from the April 2002 Polish adventure is this timeless scene of three middle-age men on a horse-drawn wagon crossing the line at Nowa Weis. I caught this on film shortly before sunset with my Rollei. It was on PKP’s (Polish National Railways) secondary line that runs southeast from Wolzstyn to Leszno across through unspoiled pastoral countryside. The largely steam operated and under-maintained railway, added to a rural charm that harked back to another generation. For me it was like stepping back a half century, or more.
Here’s an unpublished image from my archive. In the gloom of early morning on April 7, 1989, I made the hour and 15 minute drive from Scottsville to Portage, New York to make time exposures of the old Erie Railroad Portage Viaduct. I featured this pioneering tower-supported viaduct in an earlier post (see: Erie Railroad’s Portage Bridge May 12 2007). Blessed by a stunning setting and significant history, the old Portage Viaduct has been a favorite subject on many occasions over the years. For this image, I used my Leica M2 rangefinder with 50mm Summicron lens to make a long exposure (about 8 seconds) in the pre-dawn twilight. The predominantly blue light combined with Kodachome’s spectral sensitivity to produce a near monochromatic view. The roaring Genesee falls have taken on an otherworldly ethereal quality, while the dark sky lends a nightmarish cast. This image exists only on film; at the time of exposure, it seemed very different to my eye. Later in the morning, an eastward Delaware & Hudson freight eased over the bridge at restricted speed; I followed this for several hours, making numerous images of it, mostly in black & white.
Southward New England Central freight along Plains Road, near Sweetheart Lake, south of Stafford, Connecticut shortly after sunrise on January 13, 2013. Canon 7D with 40mm ‘Pancake’ lens; ISO 200 f4.5 at 1.500th second—intentionally ‘underexposed’ and adjusted in post processing using Photoshop to maintain desired detail and balance in highlight and shadow areas.
One of the benefits of my visits to Monson, Massachusetts, is being within ear-shot of the former Central Vermont Railway, now operated by New England Central (NECR). Yesterday morning (January 10, 2013), I awoke to the sounds of a southward freight clawing its way up Stateline Hill (so-named because it crests near the Massachusetts-Connecticut state line). NECR freights take their time ascending the grade and on a clear day I can hear them climbing from about the time they depart the Palmer Yard. As a kid I’d count the crossings: CV’s GP9s whistling a sequence of mournful blasts for each one. Yesterday morning I dithered for a few minutes. Should I go after this train? Or, should I keep my nose to grindstone, writing? Clear skies forced the answer: GO!
My hesitation caused me to miss the opportunity for a photograph in Stafford Springs, Connecticut. This was blessing in disguise, since I’ve often caught the train here and then broke off the chase before getting deeper into Connecticut. Having missed Stafford Springs, I pursued further south, and caught the train four times at various points between Stafford and Willimantic. This a relatively easy chase, as Route 32 runs roughly parallel to the line.
Three elements made yesterday’s chase a satisfying exercise:
1) The train was operating at a suitable time of the morning for southward daylight photography (lately, NECR’s trains seem to have headed south either way too early or too late in the day for my photographic preferences—I’ve been photographing this line for more than 30 years, first chasing it with my Dad in the early 1980s, so I can be unusually choosy).
2) It was a ‘clear blue dome’—sunny, bright, and cloudless, always a great time to make morning photographs.
3) As it turned out, one of New England Central’s yellow and blue GP38s was leading. As I’ve mentioned previously, while this was once NECR’s standard locomotive, in recent years the type has become comparatively scarce on NECR, with many of the locomotives working the line wearing paint of former operators (Conrail, Union Pacific, Florida East Coast, and others).
I was also eager for a clear day to test some recently acquired equipment, especially my new Canon 40mm Pancake Lens, which arrived on Monday. I’ll make this lens the detailed topic of future posts.
New England Central’s southward freight approaches Mansfield Depot, Connecticut. Canon 7D with f2.8 200mm lens; ISO f5.6 at 1/1000 second, ‘Landscape’ ‘picture style’ (no adjustments except for scaling).
After abandoning NECR at Willimantic, I made a few photographs of the town, which still has some wonderful old mill buildings, then continued south to New London where I focused on Amtrak for a while.
Since New England Central is among properties recently acquired by Genesee & Wyoming, I’m anticipating change and wondering when I’ll photograph the first orange & black locomotives
See my recent published book North American Locomotives for more information on New England Central’s and Genesee & Wyoming locomotives.
New England Central at Willimantic Yard as viewed from the famous footbridge (must be famous, it has its own plaque). NECR shares this yard with Providence & Worcester with which it interchanges traffic. Canon 7D with f2.8 200mm lens; ISO f8 at 1/640 second, ‘Landscape’ ‘picture style’ (no adjustments except for scaling).Old thread mills at Willimantic, Connecticut. Exposed using Canon 7D with 40mm ‘Pancake’ lens; f9.0 at 1/500th second, no adjustments except for scaling.
Norfolk Southern SD70 2561 leads the westward empty Mt. Tom coal train at Hoosic Falls, New York on October 13, 2001. Exposed on Fujichrome Sensia 100 with an F3T with 24mm Nikkor lens. Shortly before the train entered the scene, a cloud diffused the sun. . . . Hey Tim, what was that you said just then?
What?
Picking photos for Tracking the Light can be a challenge. Everyday since March 2013 I’ve posted original photos to this site. That means, come rain or shine, I’ve selected photos and put words to them.
For this post, I though I’d try something a bit different. Rather than work from my semi-organized labeled material, I selected a random box of raw and unsorted slides and just plucked out a photo randomly.
While not the best picture in the box, frame 22 isn’t a bad photo.
I made it on the afternoon of October 13, 2001. Mike Gardner, Tim Doherty and I had been following an empty Mt Tom coal train since it left the plant near Northampton, Massachusetts. We caught it a multitude of locations on Guilford Rail System’s former Boston & Maine.
The last place we photographed this train was at Hoosic Falls, New York. My notes from the day read: “Hoosic Falls in a fascinating little American town—once prosperous, but on a decline . . . certainly worth some photography.”
And so there you go! Random Slide Number 22, displayed and explained.
Reading Terminal clock on Market Street, Philadelphia. Exposed with a Canon 7D with 28-135mm lens.
On Wednesday January 2, 2013, I revisited Philadelphia’s old Reading Terminal with my brother Sean and Michael Scherer. It was still a functioning passenger terminal when I first visited this iconic railroad facility in the late 1970s with my family. In 2007, I covered its history in my book Railroads of Pennsylvania.Here’s an excerpt of my text:
In the 1890s, Philadelphia & Reading invested its anthracite wealth in construction of one of Pennsylvania’s most ornately decorated company headquarters and passenger terminals. Facing Philadelphia’s Market Street, one of downtown’s main thoroughfares, Reading Terminal represented an ostentatious display of success, but one that now has benefited citizens and visitors to Philadelphia for more than a century.Like many large railway terminals of its time, Reading Terminal followed the architectural pattern established in Britain, perfected at London’s St. Pancras station. This pattern features two distinct structures for the head house and train shed. The Reading station architect, F. H. Kimball, designed the head house to rise nine stories above the street and its façade is made of pink and white granite, decorated with terra cotta trimmings. Behind the head house is the functional part of the station, an enormous balloon-style train shed—the last surviving North American example—designed and built by Philadelphia’s Wilson Brothers. The terminal closed as a result of consolidation of Philadelphia’s suburban services on November 6, 1984. Its modern underground replacement—SEPTA’s Market East Station—is nearby.
Philadelphia & Reading’s crown jewel was its immense, opulent railroad terminal and office building on Market Street in Philadelphia. Its corporate imperialism was spelled out in an Italian Renaissance revival style, with this corner office specially designed for the president of the company. Exposed with a Canon 7D with 28-135mm lens.Reading Terminal Market’s logo reflects that of the old Reading Company— like many coal hauling railroads symbolically used the diamond (inferring black diamonds). Exposed with a Lumix LX3.This large mural inside Reading Terminal conveys a sense of what the shed was like in the late 1930s. Exposed with a Lumix LX3.It has been nearly three decades since the last train departed the shed at Reading Terminal. Today the classic balloon shed covers part of the Pennsylvania Convention Center. Lumix LX3 photo.
Designed by Philadelphia’s Wilson Brothers and built by Charles McCall, Reading Terminal’s vast balloon shed is the last surviving example of its type in the United States.
Erie semaphore near Addison, New York displays ‘Approach’ following the passage of Conrail’s eastward BUOI on October 16, 1988. K25 film Leica M2 w 50mm Summicron.
When I discover something that fascinates me I’m drawn to visit repeatedly and make photographs. Long before I ever saw the old Erie Railroad route, I found it oddly compelling. The Erie was built early; it was a pioneer, constructed to the exceptionally broad six-foot track gauge. Although a major railroad, it suffered in the shadow of New York Central and Pennsylvania systems and yet never really thrived. It spanned sublimely beautiful pastoral countryside, yet operated as a ‘big-time’ railroad, focusing on heavy freight operations in its later years.
I never saw the Erie since it was merged into Erie Lackawanna six years before I was born. For that matter, I never properly experienced Erie Lackawanna, as it vanished into Conrail in 1976 when I was in fourth grade.
Move forward ten years, in autumn 1986 I was living in western New York while attending college at the Rochester Institute of Technology majoring in photography. On October 24th of that year, I ventured south from Rochester with the sole objective of following the old Erie Railroad mainline from Corning to Hornell. After a visit to the yard at Gang Mills, I drove west to Addison, and then took the Canisteo River Road that ran parallel to the old Erie main. This is a lightly populated and supremely scenic valley characterized by exposed shale cliffs, the lazy sinuous green-tinted Canisteo, and rustic farms with fields of corn and classic red barns.
The Erie has occupied the valley since the 1850s and seemed to me as much a part of the landscape as the river. Not far west from Addison, I spotted a silent sentinel—an old upper quadrant semaphore with its pointed yellow chevron blade aimed skyward. This Erie relic was as much key to my fascination as the distinct Canisteo Valley. Continuing west, I spotted another semaphore, and another. Leaving the Canisteo River Road, I drove down to the railroad on Newcomb Road near the village of Rathbone. Here I found a semaphore to inspect up close, located near a closed truss bridge on Newcomb Road. As it turned out, the bridge wasn’t long for the world; thankfully I had the insight to make a series of black & white photos of the old span while waiting for a train to pass the semaphore.
Finally, after hours of patience, Conrail fielded its daily OIBU (Oak Island, New Jersey to Buffalo, New York), a westward manifest freight. This came roaring up the valley. I learned my next lesson: freights really roll on the old Erie! Soon I was in hot pursuit. Following that freight up the valley I discovered semaphore after semaphore, each guarding the old Erie, as most had done for the previous 70 years. Erie’s famed S-class 2-8-4 Berkshire and K-class Pacific steam locomotives had worked past these old signals as had its early diesels. These signals were the glue that tied the past to present; they were part of a greater infrastructure that shaped the look of the line including the time-worn ‘code line’ (often incorrectly called a ‘telegraph line’), and rock-slide fences to prevent crumbling shale from causing a derailment.
Sun and snow; Conrail BUOI (Buffalo to Oak Island) rolls by an Erie semaphore in the Canisteo Valley near Cameron Mills, New York. Photo made with a Leica M2 rangefinder with 90mm Elmar on Kodachrome 25 slide film.
I found that most of the signals between Addison and Hornell remained as Erie semaphores. Better yet, west of Hornell to Dalton, New York, was likewise populated, as was the railroad east between Elmira and Binghamton. While I didn’t have the opportunity to capture it all on film during my first fleeting experience, the spark of fascination was firmly seated in my eye. Something as antique as an old semaphore couldn’t go unnoticed, and situated in such a stunning setting made them even more interesting. And yet the clock was ticking—I knew these old signals were on borrowed time. Having seen what happens when a railroad is torn asunder by efforts to modernize infrastructure I knew I needed to act! I spent the next three years making photographs along the Erie; not just signals, but trains, stations, bridges, towns, and railroaders. In fact, in most of my images the signals are incidental; they add interest, but only occasionally are the prime subject.
My friend Doug Eisele aided my efforts. He shared my interest in signals and educated me about them, while helping locate specific signals not obvious from main roads. Doug generously shared his own photography dating to the Erie-Lackawanna period, and helped put my work in context while providing hints for locations and lighting in various seasons and at different times of day.
On a snowy day in April 1988, Conrail’s BUOI (Buffalo to Oak Island) works its way east in a snow squall near West Cameron, New York. This freight had made a pickup at Hornell where it collected some rebuilt New York City subway cars, seen behind the locomotive on flat cars. Photo was made with a Rollei model T (featuring an f3.5 75mm Zeiss Tessar) with a super slide insert to provide a 645 size image.
The semaphores are now gone but I’ve continued my photography along the Erie route. My work now spans 25 years. I began working with Leicas, a Rollei model T, and a Canon A1, and Hasselblad 503c both borrowed occasionly from my college roommate. My original color work was largely exposed on Kodachrome, mostly K25, but other flavors as well. Later work was on Fuji and Ektachrome. My black & white photography was in its most experimental phase so I worked with a variety of films: Kodak Plus-X, Tri-X, my old staple Verichrome Pan, as well as Ilford emulsions. Most of the B&W work was executed in 120 format, but I played with 35mm and some 4×5 as well.
History and Context
I believe in learning as much as possible about my subject. My interest in railroad signaling dates back to my early childhood. As I matured I gradually researched this topic and this led to my book Railroad Signaling, published by MBI in 2003.
In the U.S. automatic block signals followed William Robinson’s 1870s development and perfection of the closed track circuit. Early automatic block signals were designed to automatically protect following movements, thereby providing a greater level of safety at relatively low cost. Electrical equipment was then in its infancy, and while the manually operated mechanical semaphore was well established in Britain, the lack of sufficiently compact and powerful motors made it impractical for this type of hardware to serve automatic block service. Instead, the earliest American block signals were enclosed banner style signals typified by the Hall disc, commonly known as the ‘Banjo’ signal because of their distinctive shape. The Hall Signal used a simple vain relay to display a light-weight colored disc within a window in the wooden frame. Hall promoted its disc signal standard until the early 20th century. It was most popular with eastern railroads; Boston & Albany, Lackawanna, Lehigh Valley and New Haven system all made widespread use of disc signals. Reading Company was probably the last railroad to employ Hall discs with a few signals surviving until after World War II. Although the disc was an early standard, within a couple of decades it was superceded by the semaphore as a block signal.
The Pennsylvania Railroad adopted the mechanical semaphore for interlocking signal service in the 1870s. In 1882, PRR installed pneumatic lower-quadrant signals for automatic block service. By the early 1890s advances in electric motor technology made electrically operated two-position lower quadrant semaphores commercially viable. Over the next few decades many American railroads installed lower-quadrant semaphores in automatic block service to improve safety and line capacity. Among the most popular types of automatic semaphore was Union Switch & Signal’s Style-B lower-quadrant. (‘Style-B’ refers to the control mechanism, which on this variety was located at the base of the mast.) Southern Pacific was one of the largest proponents of this style of signal. US&S lower quadrants survived in active service on several SP lines into the 1990s. These signals were featured in my post: “Southern Pacific Siskiyou Memories.”
Among the difficulties with lower quadrant semaphore was that each blade displayed two only aspects;: if three aspects were necessary, two blades were required. In 1903, the electric upper-quadrant semaphore was patented; it was widely adopted after 1908 and for many years reigned as one of the most common styles of American signaling. Each signal blade could display three aspects with a single blade. Coincident with development of three-position semaphore mechanisms was research by New York’s Corning Glass that produced standardized colored glass for signal lenses. This resulted in the universal adoption of red, yellow, and green as standard colors for railroad signals (later similar colors became highway signal standards). Prior to this, railroads employed a variety of different lens colors, which specific tints varying from line to line.
Union Switch & Signal’s Style-S mechanism was designed for three-position operation. Erie Railroad was an early user of the three-position semaphore, with its earliest installation dating to about 1906. After 1910, Erie installed large numbers of Style-S semaphores along its lines. By 1924, Erie had switched to US&S color light signals for new installations, yet continued to maintain semaphores where they were already in operation.
West of Binghamton, New York, these signals survived into the Conrail era. By the late 1980s, the old Erie Style-S signals that dated to the early 20th century were nearing the end of their service lives, and were being replaced as they failed. In the early 1990s, Conrail converted sections of its former Erie ‘Southern Tier line’ from directional double-track operation to a single track with passing sidings under a centralized traffic control style system (described in Conrail literature as ‘Traffic Control System’). As part of this program, traditional signals were removed and replaced with modern color-light hardware featuring signal heads with the triangular light pattern favored by Conrail. (This style was not new, as having been introduced by US&S in 1924.) A handful of Style-S semaphores survived for a few more years on a section that remained as directional double track between Waverly and Binghamton. In 2005, Norfolk Southern finally replaced the last Erie semaphore which had protected the eastward track near Endicott, New York.
Conrail BUOI passing an unusually tall semaphore near between Rathbone and Addison, New York. This signal once had a subsidiary arm that was dispatcher controlled and could be use to instruct a train to stop and ‘line in’ to the center siding at this location. In the steam era, Erie had center sidings at strategic locations to allow slower trains to get out of the way of faster ones, thus making more efficient use of its directional double track mainline. Lighting for this photo was unusual; the sun was just peaking out from heavy clouds and was slightly back lit, which helps accentuate the lens in the semaphore blade and illuminate the locomotive exhaust. It was 2 pm on April 16, 1988, and BUOI was beginning to accelerate after clearing a slow order. Photo made on Kodachrome 25 with a Leica M2 rangefinder fitted to a Visoflex with f4.0 200mm Telyt lens.
Fallen soldier; on May 2, 1987 this former Erie semaphore was lying on the ground along the right of way at Rathbone, New York following replacement with a color light. Most surviving Style S semaphores in the Canisteo Valley were replaced in 1993-1994, when Conrail installed a single track centralized traffic control system in place of Erie’s traditional directional double track. This work resulted in signal re-spacing with longer blocks and also involved removal of the above ground code line and related infrastructure. The photo was made with a Canon A1 and 50mm lens on Professional Kodachrome 25.East of Adrian, New York, Eastward Delaware & Hudson symbol freight ‘Jet 1’ passes semaphores at milepost 320 (measured from Jersey City) on May 14, 1988. Photo made on Professional Kodachrome 25 with a Leica M2 rangefinder fitted to a Visoflex with f4.0 200mm Telyt lens. The scan was modified using Adobe Photoshop to correct for a slight tilt, and adjust for both color and contrast. Among the difficulties with using Kodak’s professional Kodachrome was the tendency of the film to experience undesirable color shifts. The film required refrigeration until shortly before exposure and prompt processing afterwards; but even following this regiment, its color balance was often less than ideal.
(text originally reproduced in Irish Railway Record Society Journal no. 177, February 2012)
Photography is an art, not a science; yet it relies technology and it is necessary to master that technology to consistently produce successful images. Railway photography requires the photographer to make a variety of small decisions at precisely the right moment. Rapid movement combined with the operational uncertainties inherent to railway operations makes railway photography challenging and there is no proven sure-fire method of ensuring perfect railway photographs. There isn’t a single defined set of skills required to make pictures, furthermore efforts to impose absolute photo formulas have typically resulted in stale image making. By contrast there are diverse and myriad approaches toward photography each unique to the individual photographer, and it is this endless variety in approach to the subject that has kept the medium fresh and exciting. Many photo opportunities have been missed or ruined, or simply fall short because of the photographer’s momentary inattention or minor technical error. This is not limited to the novice or occasional photographer, as even the most experienced practitioners make mistakes. While formulas lead to dull repetitive images, here’s some simple philosophy and habits that may help you improve your odds at making successful railway action photos:
1) Always carry a camera: If you don’t have one, you can’t make a photograph.
2) Insure that your camera is ready: if it uses a battery, check to see that it’s fresh; if using a film camera, insure it’s loaded; if using a digital camera, insure the recording card is installed and working properly; double check to see that sufficient exposures remain on the film/card to make all the photos you have planned. If you reach the end of roll or fill your card unexpectedly, you’ll miss the critical image.
3) Always carry an extra battery and at least one spare roll of film/recording card.
4) If your camera has a light meter, check to see that it works; if using an automatic or program mode, be sure that these are set as you intended.
5) When using auto-focus, insure it is switched ‘on’; if you focus manually, check (and double check) your focus point.
6) Don’t fight with your equipment! Select a camera that you feel comfortable using. If you aren’t happy with your camera or it routinely malfunctions, replace it post haste.
7) Many fully automatic cameras are designed for making snapshots of children’s birthday parties and scenic vistas, so by design may greatly limit your ability to make successful railway action photos. Especially troublesome are automatic cameras that impose an unwanted shutter delay. Although these are prolific, the only advantages to them are high availability and low cost.
8) Use a camera that allows you to control the shutter speed. While working a camera manually grants the greatest operator flexibility it also requires a high-level of photographic skill and practice; using a camera in a ‘shutter priority mode’ is easier. Be sure to select a ‘fast’ shutter speed to better freeze the action and avoid motion blur. While the speed of the train, your relative angle to the train, and the focal length of the lens all affect the amount of blur, in most instances a shutter speed of 1/500th second is fast enough to stop the action. Any speed less than about 1/125th of a second is probably too slow for conventional railway action photography.
9) Think ahead and select your locations carefully: select an interesting backdrop or setting—is this a timeless scene or one about to change? Consider obstructions and if these may cast shadows; watch for objectionable wires, line-side rubbish, trees, and other items that may detract from your planned image. Pay close attention to lighting and watch the weather.
10) Study the details of railway operations so you may anticipate what and when trains will run and how they will perform. The more you know, the more likely you’ll anticipate a train’s performance and apply that information to your photography. Is the train on an upgrade or drifting? What is the track speed? Is the train approaching a junction, a station, or a speed restriction? Does it run regularly or is it a special move? Will it take the next passing siding or run through on the main line?
11) Arrive at your desired location well before the train is expected.
12) While waiting use your time wisely: make test photos to insure everything is working as intended. If using a digital camera carefully study test photos and check for: focus, exposure, overall composition, the locations of shadows or undesirable visual elements. If trains or equipment pass before the main attraction, always use these as practice for the main event. Some photographers might dismiss this action as ‘waste of time/film/pixels’, but not only will this exercise hone your skills, but in years to come you may find that the photo of the ordinary train dismissed on the day turns out to be more interesting than what you set out to capture!
13) Repeat number 12.
14) Be patient. If you leave before the train passes, your efforts will have been wasted.
15) Study and edit your results. While you should only display photographs that satisfy your expectations; it’s important to study failures and learn from your mistakes.
16) Share your work; idle photographs sitting on hard drives or stored in closets are wasted.
17) Have fun!
In August 2012, I made a few photos along the old Pennsylvania Railroad Main Line at Berwyn, Pennsylvania. Several weeks earlier, fellow photographer Pat Yough and I inspected this location and decided the open area on the outside of the curve was well suited for a westward train in the evening. Some photographers might have ignored the common SEPTA Silverliner IV multiple units, hundreds of which have worked Philadelphia suburban services for decades. Yet, this train provided me the opportunity to test exposure, composition, and focus, while keeping my photography skills sharp. For this image I used my Canon 7D with a 100mm f2 lens set in manual; ISO200, f5.6 1/1000. As always, I simultaneously exposed both a RAW and JPEG. Except for the scaling of the Jpeg (reduction of file size for internet display), I made no post-production adjustments to this image.
The main attraction for the curve at Berwyn was SEPTA’s AEM7 powered evening suburban trains. While these run every weekday, summer evenings are the best times to catch them in good light on the Main Line, as most sets only work one turn daily, and tend to lay idle during off peak. In the winter, they largely operate in darkness. Having refined my location based on passage of the earlier Silverliner IV, I was prepared for the arrival of the AEM7 and able to make a more pleasing image. High clouds slightly softened the sun so I adjusted my exposure accordingly; ISO200, f6.3 1/640.
Even after all my preparation, I wasn’t entirely satisfied with my results. I found the dumpster, fences and other clutter at the left distracting. You might say, ‘but this was part of the scene.’ True, but it doesn’t add anything to the image of the locomotive at work, and in this case I decided to crop the image square to eliminate distractions—photographer’s perogative. Ultimately, if time allows, I’ll return to Berwyn, and try the location again to make for a more dramatic image. I might go a little lower next time too, to allow for a better view of the wheels touching the rails.
Irish Rail’s Sperry rail inspection train at Islandbridge Junction, Dublin August 30, 2012.
Camera: Canon 7D fitted with an EF 28-135mm zoom.
Every so often everything comes together nicely. Yesterday (August 29, 2012), I learned that Irish Rail would be running its Sperry inspection train up to Dublin for stabling at the sidings near Heuston Station. This suits me well, as I’m staying just a short walk from Islandbridge Junction, immediately west of Heuston. While I caught the train yesterday afternoon, the conditions were less than ideal, although typically Irish; it was heavily clouded and lashing rain. I racked up the ISO to 800 on my Canon 7D digital camera and popped off a few frames, which I was happy to get. In 14 years of photographing Irish railways it was the first time I caught the Sperry train on camera.
What’s a ‘Sperry train?’ In the early part of the 20th century, a hidden rail fracture caused a serious derailment on the Lehigh Valley Railroad in New York. This tragic incident inspired prolific inventor Elmer Sperry to devise a system of inspecting rails. This consisted of a magnetic induction profile. For many years self-propelled black and yellow ‘Sperry Cars’ have been seen making the rounds on American railways. In more recent years, Sperry Rail devised a testing system using ultrasonic equipment to reveal rail fractures. Today, Sperry provides rail-defect detection services in many countries. On today’s train, Sperry’s detection equipment is in the yellow container riding on a flat wagon immediately behind the locomotive. The yellow tank wagons are to assist with braking.
A perfect sunny day greeted me this morning. I’d heard the train was due to depart the old Guinness sidings at Heuston about 9 am, so I was in place at that time. For this exercise I used my Canon 7D fitted with a EF 28-135mm lens. This arrangement gives me great flexibility, produces high quality images, and allows me to post images very quickly after exposing them. Another benefit is the digital medium allows me to make test frames that I can analyze on site to check for proper exposure, adequate focus, as well as framing and etc. For this image, the famed Wellington Testimonial (located at the east end of Dublin’s Phoenix Park) is featured. I’ve made many photos here before, but sometimes with film I’ve inadvertently cropped the top of monument while focusing on a moving train. I tried to avoid this mistake today, and with digital I could check right away, and not wait days or weeks to find out. With the camera set manually (in ‘M’ mode) I made several exposures bracketing my crop and exposure. This one was made at f6.3 1/500th of second at ISO 200; lens set to about 35mm. I made two files in camera; a large Jpg and a RAW. I made no adjustments to this image, other than scaling the large Jpg to 1024 pixels on the long side and adding my name and copyright information.
I feel I’ve had a productive morning so far! Later, I also caught one of Irish Rail’s IWT Liners, an intermodal container train that runs from Dublin Port to Ballina, County Mayo. Today, this was led by one of Irish Rail’s 201-class General Motors diesels wearing the Enterprise livery. While not unheard of, it is a good catch to see one these in freight service.
Irish Rail’s IWT Liner passing Islandbridge Junction, Dublin, photo by Brian Solomon
I’ve described myself as a ‘progressive obsoletist,’—an unfamiliar term that I may have invented. Invariably, someone will try to pigeon-hole me, demanding, “what is that?!”—as if the term wasn’t completely self-explanatory. Without a long-winded, half-cynical satirical diatribe, I doubt I could convey my definition of this obscure set of beliefs, however, in photographic terms I’ll offer a contemporary corollary based on recent experiments.
I’ve been dabbling with black & white photography for decades. I nearly perfected my technique when I was in college, only to virtually abandon black & white professionally in favor of color media. However, from time to time, I return to black & white, and with each visit try to further hone my process.
What does that mean? Well, first off, I always process my own film. Secondly, I’m very conscious of the processing method and formulas I hope to use while I’m making photographs. Thirdly, I’m always making small adjustments in my process in efforts to making more pleasing images.
The caveats to this process adjustment are that: 1) I’m never really satisfied with my results; 2) I never will be; and, 3) despite constant tinkering with formulas, my actual process is based on empirical analysis, rather than a strict, calculated scientific approach. I’m sure photo-chemists, when analyzing what I do, would decide that about half my process is unnecessary, and while on the whole it’s too complicated and could be better achieved in some alternative manner. But for me that’s not really the point. Making and developing the images are all part of the process, and this process involves converting what I see in three dimensions and full living color into a static, two dimensional, mono-chromatic set of images.
In January, 1998, TRAINS Magazine, I had a portfolio of photos published, and in that series, I described the spread with three monochromatic images as ‘One Thousand Shades of Gray’. Well, in light of some recent popular literature (not involving monochromatic images, so I am told), a similar title with fewer numbers of shades has stolen my thunder. Fair enough, but not really my point. With One Thousand Shades of Gray I was only trying to be clever, since proper black & white photography is more than just black and white but more about all the gray in between. And that’s largely what I’m after in my process refinement and adjustment — tonality and contrast. The machinery and landscape of the railroad are subjects ideally suited to this medium, while slight adjustments can make the difference between a fairly interesting railroad image and a truly memorable one.
Why not just convert modern digitally produced color files into monochromatic images? Good question. First of all, I’ve done that, both with my Lumix LX3 and my Canon 7D, and I’ve been happy with my results. Secondly, I don’t have any qualms about producing monochromatic images digitally. There are different tools for different type of images. There are times when a digital monochromatic image feels like the best choice, and there are times when color works better. (Generally, however, if I’m going to make a monochromatic image, I work with that medium on-site, rather than produce after the fact.)
So, why use film? The short answer is pretty selfish; because I want to! I like B&W photography, I like film, I’ve always worked with film, and continuing to work with film (at least part of the time) lends a certain continuity to my photography.
I have other reasons as well. I’ve found that using film, processed in accordance with my customized formula, and then scanned with a flatbed scanner, produces an image file that looks really pleasing to my eye. The combination of tonality (technically, “dynamic range”), acutance, and granularity when viewed on an iPad or computer screen looks great. This is the visual embodiment of progressive obsoletism!
Another reason is archival quality. And here I’ll dare tread on some sensitive toes. From my experience and understanding of the digital mediums, there are no sure-fire means of insuring long term digital storage without regular intervals of human intervention. In other words, if you don’t make multiple copies of your digital images, and continue to copy them, basic flaws in digital storage will probably result in the complete loss of your images within years or decades. My father, Richard J. Solomon, has illustrated this in the Center for Railroad Photography and Art’s annual Talks on Photography held at Lake Forest, Illinois, and in various articles. Simply, the very nature of the digital age tends toward the ephemeral use of data. While in the near term you can preserve your digital photos; long term, if a conscious effort isn’t made at continuing your storage, in all likelihood your images will completely vanish. (As anyone who has ever dropped a hard disk will sympathize.)
By contrast, my black & white process uses techniques that are known to produce negatives that should last for hundreds or thousands of years without regular intervention. So, barring disaster, long after all the hard drives have been wiped clean, the DVDs have faded into uselessness, and the software used to decipher today’s data has become more arcane than odd-dialects of ancient Sumerian, my black & white negatives should still be identifiable and usable as photographs.
Whether or not anyone cares in a hundred-plus years is another story. In my research for books and other photographic endeavors, I’ve often thought it ironic that 19th century glass plates will likely outlive virtually all the images being made today. I hope that I’m wrong. And, since I won’t be around in 100+ years, I’ll never know, but just in case I keep at black & white film photography, at least some of the time. And since I scan my negatives at high resolution, I’ll have most of the benefits of digital storage as well as that offered by traditional film. At least there’ll be some images of modern trains alongside the plates of Baldwin 2-8-0s.
In the last few months, I plunged into our collection of antique cameras and gone back to my roots. In my youth, I was always seen carrying a prewar Leica IIIa. With that I exposed countless railway photos, from Central Vermont GP9s and RS-11s crossing the diamond at Palmer, Massachusetts, to GG1s grinding into South Amboy, New Jersey, as well as views from Amtrak’s Coast Starlight negotiating SP’s Cuesta grade near San Luis Obispo, California. Remarkably, I still have this camera, or its near cousin (in truth, I think we had three different IIIa bodies in our house plus a postwar IIIc, and several later model Leica M’s). In my recent IIIa efforts, I employed my father’s Leica-screw-mount 21mm Super-Angulon (actually a Schneider lens design), and wandered around my old territory in New England exposing a few rolls of Fuji Acros 100. (I also recorded thousands of digital images as well)
Having earlier this year made modifications to my process (for a future post), I then souped the film, scanned it, and analyzed my results.
Pulling the film out of the tanks, I was immediately disappointed, but then, after scanning, I gradually came to accept and finally embraced my results. I’ve displayed a few here. Choice of subject matter was key to my choice of equipment and media. I largely photographed former Boston & Albany, Central Vermont, and Boston & Maine lines; the same railway lines I photographed as a kid—thus keeping with my theme of continuity. Earlier this year, I’d embarked on a similar project, photographing in Dublin, but using a different set of retro-equipment (another the topic for a future post).
Not only do these images offer an element of consistency working with photos from my archive, but I feel they also work well as stand-alone photographs. I have plenty of color digital images to satisfy commercial illustration requirements and my personal needs for instant image analysis (did I catch it? Was the light right? Did that cloud get in my way? Are my exposures tight?). But, I also have these satisfying monochromes, that may, so it seems, last for a virtual eternity. Coming soon, I’ll post the details of my exposures, technique, and chemical process. Stay tuned!
On March 30, 2012, a northward CSX auto rack train passes beneath the Bear Mountain Bridge near Fort Montgomery, New York, on its way up the Hudson River. This afternoon image was exposed with my electronic Lumix LX-3. This is the in-camera jpeg, made with the ‘vivid’ color profile with the camera set in the ‘S’ (shutter priority) mode using pattern metering. It was exposed at 1/640 of a second at f 5.0.
Technique: Bring This Camera Everywhere!
I’m a big proponent of always carrying a camera. And as I’ve written elsewhere, ‘If you don’t have a camera, you can’t make a photo.’ As soon as you let this guideline slip, a unique visual opportunity will occur and you won’t be able to capture it. A caveat is: always carry a good camera (why lessen the magic of a unique event with a poor quality photo?). My father had given me an antique Leica IIIa for my tenth birthday and I carried it everywhere and made photos of everything. When I was in school I was ‘the kid with the camera.’ While many of those photos aren’t very good, the point is that I was always ready —constantly going through the motions of making photos taught me how to work under numerous lighting situations. I never relegated my photography to ‘perfect sunny days.’
Over the years my philosophy has resulted in towing around various and different amounts of equipment. Constantly carrying a film-based SLR with a full set of lenses really was pretty awkward, not to mention the big bag of film! It’s one thing to have a camera, it’s another to try to anticipate every possible situation all the time. Beginning in 2001, my ‘everywhere camera’ was a Contax G2 range finder, which had its benefits, but was comparatively heavy, and while it came with interchangeable lenses, these tended to fill my pockets.
In summer of 2009, my digital guru Eric Rosenthal lent me a Panasonic DMC LX-3; I was immediately convinced of its merits and bought one. Since then I’ve made great use of it, and I feel it is as near as perfect an ‘everywhere camera’ as I’ve ever owned. The LX-3 has a variety of kin, including the newer LX-5, as well as the almost identical Leica D-Lux3/4/5 models, with newer models recently introduced. I’ve only used the LX-3, and I’m not intending to compare my camera with the gamut of similar models or its competitors available to photographers today. Rather, I describe its pros and cons, and how this tool has benefited my photography.
The LX-3 offers several key qualities that have allowed me to make numerous excellent photographs: it’s compact, versatile, flexible, fast, durable, and offers exceptionally high quality images for its relatively small size. I can bring it just about everywhere (within reason), and with it I have a dependable tool to make photos. Three of my principle objections to many small. ‘snapshot-style’ cameras are their low-quality optics, an inability to operate the camera manually, and an unavoidable delay from the time the shutter-button is pressed to the time the shutter opens. With the LX-3, not only I can get around all of these problems, but I get performance that rivals that of much larger camera systems.
The LX-3 is equipped with a great lens — a Leica Vario-Summicron f2.0-2.8/5.1-12.8 [mm] ASPH, which is extremely sharp, fast, and offers a nice color palate. While the LX-3 has a variety of modes, it has manual capabilities that allow me to set shutter speed, aperture, ISO, and focus settings (although manual focusing is awkward). Furthermore, when automatic settings are used, these allow for a degree of manual override including the ability to change metering modes and make adjustments with exposure compensation. The degree of delay varies depending on how the camera is set; when the LX-3 is used as a fully automatic camera, or allowed to ‘sleep’ between exposures, there is an objectionable delay. However, when operated manually, setting focus and exposures using the toggle switch, and leaving it ‘queued up’ and ready to go, exposure can be made virtually instantaneously. I’ve used my LX-3 set at 1/2000th of a second to capture a German ICE-3 gliding along at more than 160 mph—no easy feat even with an SLR. If you ever want that ‘deer in the headlights’ feeling, try photographing a truly high-speed train full frame with a standard lens (and no 10 frames-per-second motor drive!).
I’ve found several failings with the LX-3. It lacks a built-in view finder. While there is a separate viewfinder attachment, I’ve shied away from this for two reasons: it’s relatively expensive, and I’ll surely lose it. So while in most situations the window at the back of the camera works reasonably well, it suffers in bright daylight, and I don’t like to stand around with the camera at arms length trying to compose an image. While other models have longer zooms, the LX-3’s range is limited to a view roughly equivalent to 28-65mm on a traditional 35mm film camera. This ranges suits about 85 percent of my requirements, while having the side effect of taking away the ‘telephoto crutch’, which forces me to work with more conventional focal lengths. The battery life on the LX-3 is poor, so as a result I carry three or four batteries with me, especially in cold weather. On a busy day, I can easily tap through three batteries.
Another flaw is slow cycle time, which is partly a function of how I’ve set up the camera. I expose both a RAW and large JPG file simultaneously. While jpegs suit most of my requirements, I’m not just taking photos for today, and I’m uncomfortable with long-term storage problems and compression qualities inherent to JPG format. Furthermore, RAW files offer considerably more data, and this can be valuable both for publication and situations where post processing manipulations are necessary (both topics for another day). But, I’ve made prints from in-camera jpegs up to 13×19 inches that are fantastically sharp and colorful (including the photo displayed here). And I’ve used LX-3 jpegs in books and magazines.
The LX-3 also offers a variety of in-camera color profiles with various color palates and saturation levels; while these are strictly applied to the jpegs, they allow for added creativity when composing images. It has an excellent image stabilizer, which allows for very slow shutter speeds hand-held, and can be switched off when necessary. Another distinctive tool is the ability to control the aspect ratio (external dimensions) in camera; its four standard ratios range from a square to 16:9. In addition, there are myriad controls that enable a high-degree of customization for both user convenience and file output.
Control, flexibility, and high quality are the prized qualities that sold me on the camera. The LX-3 may appear as a snapshot camera to the unknowing observer but it offers most of the control and quality that I’d expect from a high-end SLR. My intended purpose for LX-3 was as a ‘everywhere camera’ to be carried when I wasn’t carrying my full camera kit, but it soon developed into my staple tool for railway photography, as well as urban adventures and other projects. Later installments of Tracking the Light will highlight images made with the LX-3, to demonstrate its abilities as a high quality image making machine.
Central Vermont Railway northward freight 323 at Windsor, Vermont, October 14, 1993. (Scanned from a 35mm slide using an Epson V500 scanner.)
This is among my favorite railway images. It was part of a sequence of photos I made—a similar version to this one appears on page 88 of Railway Photography (Solomon & Gruber, 2003). Need I detail the charms of Vermont in autumn? Crisp weather, colorful foliage, quaint villages, and stunning scenery have long made Vermont Octobers popular with photographers, while classic rural railway operations make it a great place to experience American railroads in action. My parents first brought me to Vermont in search of railways in the late 1960s, and my earliest memories of railroads include poking around Bellows Falls and riding Steamtown’s trains. In autumn 1993, I was on my annual shoestring tour of the East that brought me from Montreal to central West Virginia over the course of six weeks as I chased the foliage from north to south, while traveling in concentric circles looking for photo opportunities of trains.
Based on previous years’ travels, I’d ascertained that the first week of October tended to produce peak color in central Vermont, so on October 7th, I set out from Monson, Massachusetts, in a borrowed Honda Accord. Driving north on I-91, I got off at Bellows Falls, where I hoped to find working either the Central Vermont or Green Mountain railways. While, it isn’t necessary to find trains moving to make great autumn railway photos, I prefer action images to add a bit of thrill to the chase. At that time, CV’s Palmer, Massachusetts, to St. Albans, Vermont, through freight tended to depart Palmer yard limits in the very early hours of the morning and find daylight between Brattleboro and Bellows Falls. This proved true, and I followed the train for most of the morning, making photos along the way. Among the locations I chose was a view of this plate girder bridge over the Connecticut River near Windsor, Vermont. Standing on the New Hampshire side of the river (near the famous long covered bridge) I’d opted for a 200mm Nikon lens, and framed the locomotives tightly on the bridge; in the process I cropped out most of Mt. Ascutney. In that photograph the sun was shining brightly, so in almost all respects I’m happy with the result — except for the fact that my focus on the locomotives cropped one of Vermont’s most famous mountains.
My notes from the day show that I exposed my photographs using Kodachrome 25 at f5.6 and 1/125th of a second. At the time, I recorded each day’s photography on a detailed form. Kodachrome 25 was then my staple medium, and so went unrecorded; however, when I deviated from that choice I’d make special note of the film in my log. Later in the day, I photographed Central Vermont’s southward 324 on this same plate girder span featuring the covered highway bridge in the distance (this image appeared in TRAINSMagazine in 1998).
One week later, I made a repeat trip to Vermont. By this time the foliage was past peak, yet I was determined to make the most of the day, as autumn remained my prime season for photography. At 7:15 AM, I was back at Bellows Falls where I found a Boston & Maine (Guilford) local working the Green Mountain interchange tracks near the passenger station. A heavy river fog blanketed the town making the scene dark, but not especially ethereal (f4, 1/15 sec). The signal on the Conn-River mainline lit up in the northward direction, ‘yellow-over-green-over-red,’ meaning ‘Approach Medium,’ and I knew that CV’s 323 was close. Rather than make dull photographs with Kodachrome in the dimly lit morning gloom (which may sound more attractive than it was), I continued north to Claremont, New Hampshire, where the railroad crosses the Sugar River Valley on a high tower-supported girder trestle. My hope was that by the time CV 323 arrived the morning sun may have burned off the fog on the bridge. Good theory, but no joy. I ended up with a foggy silhouette of the train on the bridge at 8:05 AM.
While CV’s freights tended to clip along, I made good speed and returned to my spot near the Windsor covered bridge. I had enough time to set up my Bogan tripod and take a couple of cursory meter readings with my Sekonic Studio Deluxe light meter. The fog was lifting as I heard the train whistle for the highway crossing on New Hampshire Route 12A, and shortly before the train eased onto the bridge the sun popped out. Instead of the 200mm Nikon f4 lens I’d used the previous week, this time I chose my Nikkor 105mm f1.8 so as to better include Mt. Ascutney. Normally, I’d have used my Nikon F3T (my principle camera at the time), but this had suffered a shutter failure the previous weekend, and instead I was working with my Nikkormat FT3 (oddly adorned with red leather instead of black—not my choice, but I’d bought it second hand as a cheap extra body). CV 323 rolled into view as mist was rolling off the river — the sunlight was down about a stop from full daylight (which in an October Vermont would typically warrant about f4.5, 1/250, on K25). My exposure notes recorded “8:30 AM Windsor, VT (Conn River Bridge) f4.5 1/125 (bracket?) COSMIC Light!”.
I probably made three exposures: up a third, down a third, and spot on f4.5, that was my standard routine when the light was changing rapidly. Keep in mind there was a slow order on the bridge, so 323 wasn’t moving very quickly. (I also apparently made a 50mm view probably with my Dad’s Leica, although I’m not sure what happened to that image—possibly it didn’t turn out as hoped.) Although, this was by far the best shot of the day, I continued northward, and later in the morning picked up the New Hampshire & Vermont railway local that ran from White River Junction, Vermont, to Whitefield, New Hampshire. That also proved fortuitous, as much of the old Boston & Maine line between Wells River, Vermont north to Whitefield was abandoned and lifted a few years later. The bad news? I left the lens cap for my 105mm at the Windsor covered bridge! (one of many lens caps unhappily abandoned in the heat of a chase).
If you find a copy of Railway Photography that John Gruber and I wrote back in 2003, and seek out page 88, you may notice that the caption indicates that I used my F3T with 200mm f4 lens for the October 14, 1993 photo. This is an error, and in fact that was the data for the October 7th image at the same location. How could that happen?! Simple, when I wrote the photography book, I looked at the wrong set of notes. My mistake!
