As we drove west toward Safe Harbor and Washington Boro, we watched a mountain of fast-moving clouds approaching from the north. Kris noted that thunderstorms were predicted.
“Here?”
As we crested a ridge on River Road, the sky had darkened to something like midnight.
“That looks angry.”
Nearing Washington Boro, we heard Norfolk Southern’s dispatcher speaking to a coal train over the railroad radio. There was discussion of a track circuit fault near milepost 42, west of where the train’s location
“The train is close. Sounds like he’s east of COLA (Columbia, Pa.)”
When we reached the intermediate (automatic) signals in Washington Boro, they displayed all red in the westward direction. Then we heard the whistle for a grade crossing. We reversed direction, retraced our steps, and parked at Blue Rock. I grabbed my Z6-III as the train entered view and set up a photograph to emphasize the boiling sky.
From there, we raced ahead to Safe Harbor. The coal train was maybe a couple minutes behind, and I figured we might as well photograph it here.
“We might as well roll it by. It’s a ‘free shot’ if we’re going to follow it to Maryland.”
By the time we arrived, the evening sky was a striking mix of storm clouds and blue sky, making for a dramatic silhouette. The coal train was close, but the rain closer. First came the sprinkles, then a deluge. I abandoned my spot and ran for the car.
Kris laughed when I jumped in, soaked.
“Time for Plan B!”
I reversed and drove over the bridge that leads to the Safe Harbor Dam, a path often closed to us during our nocturnal visits. We parked on the Susquehanna side of the two massive Pennsylvania Railroad bridges as the rain intensified. It felt like being in a dishwasher. After a minute, I heard the road of our train approaching and grabbed my camera.
“You’re not going back out there?” Kris asked.
“We’re here, and so’s the train. I’ve been wet before.”
I exposed a burst of photos, shooting through the torrents. My camera was soaked, and I looked like a drowned rat.
We tried to continue our chase, but the rain grew even more intense. Finally, we agreed to abort.
When we arrived home, we could hear distant sirens on Route 272. I checked the traffic, and sure enough, there was a wreck on the highway, not far from where we’d turned off. We dodged the proverbial bullet.
Tracking the Light Braves the Storm!
