Sunday, October 18, 2015
Sad news last week. Stewart Lindsay Anderson, Australian railwayman, author, photographer and publisher, died after a seven-year fight with cancer in Melbourne, Victoria, Australia on October 11. He was 51. He leaves behind his wife, Helen, daughters Alison and Eleanor, and a world-wide collection of friends he’d acquired during many journeys overseas in pursuit of railway photography.
Born in rural eastern Victoria in 1964, “Stewie” was enchanted by railroads by age four, and a move to Melbourne in 1982 to study civil drafting—accompanied by a new 35mm camera—introduced him to railroaders who were also railroad photographers. A flat economy and encouragement from his new friends found him hired by V/Line as a locomotive assistant in April, 1984. This was the beginning of a lifelong career, culminating in promotion to locomotive driver, most recently driving VLocity diesel m.u. trains on regional routes out of Melbourne. Stewart was deeply involved in union activities and committees on the railway to improve working conditions of his fellow railwaymen.
But it was rail photography that got deep in his soul, co-authoring the all-color “Liveries in the Landscape” in 1999, in addition to contributions to untold magazines and books by other authors. Stewart was creator, publisher and editor of the richly-produced “Australian Railways Illustrated,” which ended a five-year run in 2015. In the final weeks of his life, he completed a lifelong goal of a full-color monograph of his railway photos, to be titled “Rolling Thunder” and due soon off the press.
Though he would dismiss mention of his courage in facing cancer with a modest “it is what it is, mate,” Stewart was a hero to many for his strength and perseverance during the battle with cancer that eventually took his life. His rail photography projects—the book, the magazine and extensive travels to North America—kept him motivated to get through the next round of chemotherapy and surgery that loomed over and over again. “I won’t let the bastard beat me,” he’d tell those asking about his health. His networking with short line managers in the U.S. generated more friendships and opened doors on his visits, and he was always game to take a day off work to show overseas photographers around Victoria.
Stewart was a man of unbounded optimism. He’d joke that the day he married Helen was the only day he wore long pants, and lightly chastised his fair-weather-only photography friends by saying “you will not get the shot if you’re not there.”
He was a good friend, and I'll miss him greatly. We thought of each other as "Brothers of a different hemisphere," and kept in touch between his visits to the US via Skype, trading stories about railroading, rail photography, and politics.
In Australia, and in North America, there are few places one can travel where Stewart Anderson’s footprints haven’t been there first. Rest in Peace, Stewie—and high greens to the barracks.
Monday, April 27, 2015
Way back when, in the late 1990s, I was a pretty dedicated storm chaser. The title of this blog, in fact, had its genesis from a website I maintained consisting primarily of storm chase reports. But time marched on--marriage, family, other responsibilities, and the idea of hopping in a car and driving 700 miles over a weekend chasing storms passed by the wayside.
The past year or so, the idea of getting out and seeing the atmosphere in turmoil has gotten more appealing, and much easier (though many will disagree with me) with wireless technology we couldn't have dreamed of in 1996. The downside of this, of course, is that even the casual storm chaser has more information at their fingertips than ever before, which results in traffic jams, unsafe driving situations, and the increased chances that someone who doesn't know what they're doing will get into trouble poking at the bear.
I'll make the disclaimer here that I don't purport to be a meteorologist, nor a storm researcher. I once studied the atmosphere intently before chasing, did hand charts, looked at upper air charts and models. I don't do that anymore. I'm content with driving to see a beautiful storm, flanking it to reposition for more photographs, and to enjoy the "Wonder of Nature." And be safe, stay out of the way of the nasty parts, and try to be aware of a storm's evolution.
All this is a long introduction to this report of Sunday's storm chase. It had been an active week for severe weather in North Texas, but obligations have prevented me from chasing. I was due back at work Sunday evening, but forecasters proved an early afternoon event not far west of DFW, so I was more than game to head out, accompanied by Travis Berryman and Jim Hollis.
That morning, the Storm Prediction Center gave the area between the Red River, Interstate 35 and the Hill Country an "Enhanced" risk for severe weather, mostly heavy rain, high winds and large hail, with a better chance for "a few strong tornados" south of I-20. Before we headed out, SPC had upgraded the risk to "Moderate," the first time I'd seen such a designation this spring.
I'll admit we were traveling a little light for technology. A tattered copy of The Roads of Texas--very old school. A car radio, but no knowledge of what the best AM/FM stations to listen to would be. And a trio of smart phones. I was running both the Radar Scope and Storm Spotter apps--when the connection is there, it is truly amazing to have such information right there, all the time. The was unheard of years ago at the turn of the century, where the MOST advanced chasers had perhaps satellite internet; otherwise, you grabbed data when and where you could: truck stops, hotel lobbies, maybe a public library. Going out into this, I'd recommend carrying a good scanning radio to listen to SKYWARN spotters. We didn't even have that--need to put it on the list for the next chase.
By 1230, small rain showers had popped up around 50 miles West of Fort Worth, but the real action would be a little west of Abilene, where already robust storms had fired up off the Dryline. This is where we needed to be. Before 1400, a handful of large cells had arrayed north-to-south from roughly Paducah to just near Ballinger, south of Abilene. We were westbound on I-20, which would give us quick access westward and lots of access north or south to intercept these storms, which at the time were moving north-east at around 30mph.
Nearing Ranger, a storm north and west of Abilene was growing more intense, and at 1350, the National Weather service issued a tornado warning on the storm due to radar indicated rotation. Far out! We could leave the freeway and head northwest and intercept it easily. The there was the storm to the south of the interstate that was just as intriguing, though not yet warned tornadic. Which to chase? This storm would be easier to intercept, and was moving right for us, and being south of I-20, would be in more unstable air more conducive to rotating updrafts--a good thing. We stopped for refreshments at Eastland, and by the time we returned to the car, at 1432, it had been upgraded from a Severe Thunderstorm to a Tornado Warning.
Radar of our two possible targets at 1344 as we neared Ranger, TX, just off to the radar to the right. Both storms are showing a yellow outline--severe thunderstorm warning. The would soon be upgraded to Tornado Warnings.
Now we're approaching our storm (our location is the blue circle with cross-hatches), southbound at Carbon at 1444. The storm has a pronounced hook. We 're headed to Rising Star to intercept. Note the trajectory of the storm: no longer going northeast, but taking a "right turn". Right-turning supercells are more efficient tornado producers.
We headed southwest towards Rising Star, about a dozen miles or so, and with each turn in the highway and glimpse at the storm through the mesquite trees, our anticipating grew. We had a great view of the structure of the storm: above and behind up, the big anvil top shooting east; the stout updraft tower; and to the north, a "beaver tail," a long thin cloud showing the conveyor belt of inflow air this storm was ingesting to grow larger. This is my favorite part of the chase: approaching a new storm, dark to the west, getting closer to the point you can see under the rain free updraft base, which will serve as the "hot spot" for any tornado development. And for a little bit, we're the only ones we see on the storm. The usual contingent of chasers is either closer to Rising Star or haven't yet jumped onto this storm.
Looking to the east from the same location. you can see the eastward-racing anvil overhead, essentially the exhaust pipe from this heat-transfer machine we're chasing.
A few miles further down the road south and east at 1507. Rising Star is near that mesa in the distance.
Panorama of the whole scene at 1519. Visible to the right is the "beaver tail," a spotting feature of a robust Supercell thunderstorm.
Eleven minutes later, 1536, and to our left we can see sheets of rain rapidly moving from our right to the left. The wind is now blowing in our faces, probably 30-40 miles per hour. And under the wall cloud, we begin to se the beginnings of a tornado, with dust on the ground swirling upward. We've got a tornado! Though within another minute, we'll be in that rain and our view of the tornado will be gone. This will be confirmed by the NSW Fort Worth as an EF-0 intensity storm, short lived, less than a couple miles in length, maybe 50 yards wide and around 70mph speed.
Now look at the storm: it's exhibiting what's called a "Screaming Eagle" signature, with the talons (hook) and spread wings (heavy rain core spreading east. We're driving south east towards Comanche, trying to stay out of its way. The storm is heading towards DeLeon and then Dublin. Road options are limited. With luck we can get to Dublin ahead of it. . .
Seen north of us near Comanche at 1551, the tornado on the ground is obscured by sheets of rain wrapping counter-clockwise around the mesocyclone. You can see the green of the hail above the updraft.
At 1603, we're a bit north of Comanche taking the view above. Now the storm continues to turn right. The folks in De Leon are getting buried in hail; Dublin is next on the target. We briefly consider punching north into Dublin to go east towards Hico. . .
. . . but coming north out of Comanche, it's clear that we won't make it. We drive into the rain a couple miles beyond this view, but it's counter-clockwise, a heavy deluge, and easily 50mph winds. This is is the beginning of a "core punch," and we don't want an encounter with either large hail or a tornado. Several chasers had windows broken out and sheet metal damage. We didn't want that. We turn around and angle south-east towards Highway 36 and a route to Hico ahead of the storm.
This is as close as we got to the "nasty stuff." As can be seen from our Blue Circle location, we're right on the edge of the tornado circulation. . .
And as can be seen from this Storm Velocity radar scan, we're RIGHT on the edge of the mesocyclone (the close proximity of green and red colors indicates intense inbound and outbound winds) This was the storm's peak of intensity. Hail was as big as tennis balls, and the town of Dublin was buried in a couple of inches of smaller hail.
After regaining Hwy 36, we pulled the second-worse chaser boo-boo: didn't keep track of where we were going, and got away from the storm. We'd meant to cut across to another highway into Glen Rose, but missed the turn and ended up in Hamilton. By then, the storm was nearly 20 miles north of us and we were hopelessly out of position. But we were able to get this nice view of the "knuckles" hanging under the storm's anvil at 1703.
By this point, the storm was weakening. By the time we got into Glen Rose, it had collapsed and was hardly recognizable anymore. There were other storms to the west, and I had the feeling that the storm behind this one--traveling along its same enhanced instability boundary--was stealing energy from this storm. Since I had to work in a few hours, we decided to head towards Grandbury for dinner before heading home. A few miles north of Glen Rose, however, a tornado warning was issued for the storm to the west. Should we? It wasn't dark yet, and I didn't have to be home THAT early. . .we turned around to Glen Rose and headed west towards the storm leaving Stephenville, got a view of it: A HONKER STACKED-PLATE MOTHERSHIP MONSTER! We found a rise a half-dozen miles west of Glen Rose and watched it approach at 1900. It was mesmerizing.
Hey, cows--behind you!
Of all the supercells, an approaching High Precipitation storm can be among the most beautiful. Sculptured clouds like a wedding cake. A beautiful view under the updraft tower. The menacing shelf cloud ahead of the rain, behind which likes the Dark Heart of Nature: possibly a tornado, but certainly torrential rain, big hail and high winds. We watched it approach a cattle pen. The cows didn't seem that concerned.
After 20 minutes or so, the storm was moving on east. I had an idea for a photo, at the fiberglass dinosaur park along the river. Good idea, but a few minutes too late. This storm was gusting out as well and losing its steam. . . .time for home!
Behind this storm, spaced about an hour apart just like the one in front of it, was a THIRD big supercell following the same track. Each storm successively tapped better and better air before falling apart. . .this one, however, was the last in the parade, and lived the longest, eventually moving into Johnson County and laying down a mile-wide stovepipe tornado. Thankfully--no injuries or deaths, which really is the headline from this day of photogenic sparkles across the corridor south of I30. We love big storms, and especially when they don't injure or kill.
Tuesday, April 7, 2015
Aerial view of Park Forest, taken by my dad, Louis Kooistra, from friend's small plane in 1954. We're looking roughly northward; the street looping through the photo from upper left to upper right is Shabbona Drive; the land that will become Talala Elementary school dominates the view. My first home is under construction at this time--it's the 10th home from the right on the north side of Shabbona.
This is a write-up I did for a mid-century-centric web site last year following a visit to the neighborhood I was born in: Park Forest, Illinois. This article never made it to print, but I thought some readers might like to see it, anyway, before the information about the PFHS museum became too stale.
Tourists visiting Chicago don’t need to be reminded of the city’s enormous influence on American architecture in the 20th Century. One doesn’t need a guidebook (though there are dozens) or a walking tour (again, there are dozens) to recognize the works of Daniel Burnham, Louis Sullivan, Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, and Frank Lloyd Wright, architects’ whose iconic works defined the city. Chicago is truly America’s first city for architectural history.
Hardly on the consciousness of though, of those who care about architecture and its social influence on American culture is the community of Park Forest, a village of around 20,000 about 30 miles southwest of downtown.
Park Forest’s significance in post-World War II American cannot be understated, for while tens of thousands of new homes sprouted on the fringes of American cities as middle-class suburbs, Park Forest was the first fully-planned post-war community, carved from unincorporated land by developers who trusted its young residents in creating a local government, school districts, and churches where none existed before. Park Forest was a test-tube for sociologists, city planners, business philosophers, mass-producers of homes, and the location of one of the nation’s first shopping centers. Park Forest was the birthplace of what readers of this site would recognize as “mid-century modest.” The ideas and concepts pioneered in Park Forest were to be followed and copied across the United States for the next quarter century.
Thanks to a small but dedicated group of volunteers led by archivist Jane Nicoll, Park Forest’s history has been kept alive through a growing archive and a museum located in one of the Park Forest’s few remaining unmodified apartment buildings, recreating life for residents of what some have called America’s “original GI town” for its large number of returning war veterans.
Park Forest Historical Society museum, 141 Forest Blvd, is housed in one of the original 1948-built apartment buildings.
Operated by the Park Forest Historical Society, the museum is off the beaten paths of mainstream architectural must-sees in Chicagoland, but in the cultural scheme of things is no less significant, given Park Forest’s role in the transformation of society and the development of suburbs and the suburban lifestyle.
The two-story museum at 141 Forest Blvd. in downtown Park Forest, is housed in one of the original apartment buildings constructed by American Community Builders in 1948, and decorated as it might have appeared when the first residents occupied it during Park Forests’ earliest years.
Vintage furniture, accessories, children’s toys, books, clothing, vintage photographs, and preserved news clippings give the visitor an idea of what life in what has been called “America’s Original GI Town” was like soon after Carroll Sweet, Nathan Manilow and Phillip Klutznik acquired 2400 acres of farmland and a golf course in unincorporated Will and Cook counties in 1946.
Jane Nicoll, PFHS curator and #1 booster of Park Forest history, in the museum's dining room, filled with period furniture and items of daily life.
The PFHS has also amassed a huge amount of archival material: movies, oral histories, photographs, documents and blueprints, housed in nearby St. Mary’s Catholic Church.
Envisioned as a community of single-family dwellings, Park Forest was initially developed as a cluster of 3000 apartment units to satisfy local zoning and FHA financing requirements. The apartments also brought an immediate influx of residents able to support the 225,000 sq. ft. Park Forest Plaza shopping center, which may have been difficult otherwise had a comparatively slower trickle of population arrived to occupy individual homes. There were no schools for the first couple of years, children attending classes in converted apartment units.
The trend-setting open-air Park Forest Plaza shopping center in 1954. These buildings are still here, however by the 1980s, loss of business to neighboring super Malls found the pedestrian plazas removed and replaced by streets and curb-side parking.
PFHS' collection fairly strains the available space in the archive room at St. Mary's Catholic church.
By 1950, Park Forest was a huge success. Initial phases of modest 2- and 3-bedroom frame homes had sold out, and newer neighborhoods were going up featuring more modern low-slope roofed homes with integrated carports that doubled as covered patios for entertainment. A nearby railroad spur brought in building supplies, and components for homes were pre-fabricated and then trucked to the home site, allowing at its peak 10 homes to be completed daily. ACB urged community involvement, and the young community voted on incorporating as a village and wrote their own laws, created funding for schools, public works and law enforcement, and formed dozens of clubs and organizations to keep its residents busy and socially engaged.
Park Forest was such a phenomenal success that it attracted the attention of Fortune Magazine editor William H. Whyte Jr., whose seminal business study “The Orgnaization Man” prominently featured the community as an example of post-war suburban life and how it was shaped by the many mid-level corporate managers who applied the principles of corporate collectivism to their home life.
Tastefully-maintained and upgraded (with set-back second-story addition) ACB 3-bedroom home built circa 1954. Originally around 1200 square feet, it retains its carport.
A similar ACB home built for my parents in 1954, 226 Shabbona Drive. Under the VA loan program, my father put $1500 down on a $14,500 home, paying 4.5% interest for 25-years--about a $75/month mortgage. The American dream certainly was affordable back then!
From a perspective in the 21st Century, Park Forest today doesn’t seem that unusual. Its winding streets of mature trees crowd in around houses that seem small by contemporary standards. The shopping center has been radically remade, its large anchor stores abandoned and then razed. But a drive through the neighborhood reveals a place that seems comfortable and familiar to those of an age to remember this type of surburban life in America. And that experience is reinforced that much further by a visit to this small but wonderful museum with the creaky wood floors, vintage steel cabinets in the kitchen, and small but cozy bedrooms upstairs.
The Park Forest House Museum is opened Wednesday and Saturday from 1030am to 330pm at 141 Forest Park Blvd. in Park Forest, IL. The museum may be toured by groups at other times; check with Jane Nicoll, 708-481-4252, archivist, to make an appointment.
A small admission fee is required, but additional donations are always welcome. The museum also has an assortment of books, calendars and other materials related to Park Forest for sale, including Gregory C. Randall’s “American’s Original GI Town,” a deeply researched book on the development and history of Park Forest and its influence on post-war suburban development.
Original steel-cabinet kitchen in the PFHS museum apartment.
Steel-cabinet kitchen in my parent's first house, 226 Shabbona Drive, circa 1957.
Sunday, June 22, 2014
Friday night's photo session: Like something out of an old Wally Abbey or Parker Lamb photograph, Pennsylvania, Baltimore & Ohio, and Chesapeake & Ohio EMD cab's gathering in a light rain--as they might've in Cincinnati, say, in 1958. . .
I sneak into a locomotive rebuilding shop, dodging employees who would throw me off the property. Scattered among the many tracks outside the shops are old locomotives, largely derelects, relics of the great era of unmatched variety in diesel locomotives: Alcos, EMD's of course, a few GE's, perhaps a Fairbanks-Morse or two. All locomotives I thought I'd never see again, so long ago had they been replaced and sent off to the boneyard.
I find my way into the shop's offices, and ask if I might wander around taking photographs. Usually in the dream, I get told to leave. But sometimes, I strike paydirt, and an employee offers to take me around the place, where I'm taken to a restored brick roundhouse building. And inside, sheltered from weather and prying eyes, is a collection of pristine EMD covered wagons--E-units and F-units of every type, wearing a dozen different paint schemes. It's as if I stumbled into the Electro-Motive Division factory in suburban Chicago in the 1950s. How did they get here, lovingly cared for and restored, and hidden away from everyone for so long?
It's then I wake up, without getting an answer to that question.
Do dreams come true? Not very often, but amazingly this dream came to life last month in North Carolina, where the North Carolina Transportation Museum hosted "Streamliners at Spencer," a gathering of two-dozen streamlined locomotives from across the US and Canada. It wouldn't be too much hype to call this a "once-in-a-lifetime" event, as the logistics of getting together all these locomotives from varied railroads, museums, historical societies and private owners is mind-boggling.
I almost didn't attend, being the type of rail enthusiast who eschews big events like this. . . but I got off work Thursday morning and was bombarded via facebook with images of a staggering variety of locomotives en route to Spencer. How could I just dismiss this as "another collective railfan orgasm?" The E-units and F-units: these are locomotives of MY generation. Well, not truly: by the time I'd come to the party, they were on their way out the door--but I'd been weened on old TRAINS magazines with photographs of these very locomotives. But I was there to see the last of them stricken from the railroad rosters and most sent to scrappers.
To think is to act: I've got the weekend off, I've got frequent flyer miles, and a few nights in a motel and a cheap rental car wouldn't cost THAT much. I have 64 hours between leaving work Friday morning and returning Sunday night. Rest would be in short-supply. Sleep? I'll sleep when I'm dead, as Warren Zevon sang.
I booked my flight.
I left work immediately after my shift ended at 0630 Friday, making a frenzied drive to the airport to catch an 0830 flight. It was another bare-knuckle connection at Greenville, SC, for the 20-minute hop into Charlotte, then grab a rental for the 45-minute drive to Spencer. Adrenaline? After more than a day without sleep, that was all that was keeping me going, but it was all worth it when I pulled up into the parking lot at Spencer shops to see a beautifully restored A-B-A set of "chicken wire" F3's in Lackawanna Railroad paint leading a short freight train of vintage equipment. That resonant "blat" from the Leslie Tyfon A200 air horn immediately rolled back to the years!
And it only got better: scattered around the 37-stall roundhouse (one of the largest remaining in the US, I'd gather) was a truly staggering congregation of classic streamlined diesel locomotives, a full listing of which can be found here.
A few were truly significant locomotives: clearly, the most important, the original 1939 Electro-Motive Corporation FT A and B-unit demonstrator 103, the very locomotive that barnstormed the country in 1939-1941 proving that the diesel locomotive could cut costs, raise train speed, and improve availability over the entrenched steam locomotives (the irony here at Spencer is that the EMC 103 initiated dieselization that would allow Southern Railway to close the Spencer shops in 1960--allowing its eventual acquisition by the state as a first-rate transportation museum); Atlantic Coast Line E3 501, representing (with Burlington E5A 9911a) the classic early slope-nose E-unit line; Wabash E8A 1009, EMD's 10,000th locomotive; Soo Line 2500A, built as an FP7 demonstrator by EMD; and "Nickel Plate 190", one of the very few surviving Alco PA-series passenger diesels (originally built for Santa Fe, sold to the Delaware & Hudson, thence to National Railways of Mexico before being repatriated as a wrecked hulk to the United States by preservationist Doyle McCormick).
But to single out these few is unfair to the others, for each of the locomotives is "the real deal," something easy to forget while merrily composing and snapping photographs of them preening for the camera. They aren't big model trains in pretty paint jobs as if they'd just come out of a box. They've all got a long history performing service to the country, and while several wear paint schemes for railroads they never actually worked for, they all had a long service life and against all odds somehow ended up saved from the torch and preserved by a special brotherhood of gearheads, historians, and volunteers who worked long hours with little or no pay and even less recognition to make such a happening take place.
It truly was amazing.
I'd heard an estimate that around 10,000 attended the four-day event, drawing from around the world. The event primarily catered to the photographer, and the display of locomotives around the roundhouse turntable was constantly changing. Each day, the locomotives were paraded past the gathered masses south of the roundhouse; each evening, portable lighting of the type found on construction sites were set up and locomotives posed for night photography. And short passenger and freight trains were run up and down Spencer's two-mile or so "mainline" for more happy snaps. If you felt confined in Spencer's cozy complex, there was Bennett Levin's preserved Pennsylvania Railroad business car train running betweeen Spencer and Charlotte, pulled by a beautiful Pennsy E8A!
It wasn't all locomotives and train photography--I renewed friendships with several old acquaintences and made several new connections. The camaraderie made the trip worth it as well, as did the opportunity to consume lots of Cheerwine and true Carolina pork barbecue. All because of a gathering of locomotives.
It was tough to pull myself away Sunday morning, as a Chicago & Northwestern F7A led passengers around the grounds. I couldn't spend another minute waiting for it. My plane was waiting, with an arrival back at DFW at 2030, then a drive to work to protect my 2230 shift.
And like that it was over. Once in a lifetime, no doubt. Those 64 hours truly felt like stepping into my dreams.
Thanks to the organizers, volunteers, railroad who provided transportation, and organizations that graciously sent their locomotives. Impressively well done!
Below are a few photographs from the weekend. A larger gallery is available to see on my Flickr site, right here.
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
W. of Mustang Creek:1/1600 f6.4 55-200mm @ 200mm ISO
I've had my Fuji X-E2 camera system since December, but really hadn't had the opportunity to take it out on a true "hard core" train chase trip until last week. Until then, I'd not had too many chances to try out the camera's continuous focusing ability on moving targets (no, I wasn't about to stand on the shoulder of the highway just to satisfy my curiosity!).
The Fuji acquisitions began with the first X-E2 body and "kit" 18-55mm 27-80mm 35mm equivalent) zoom and the 55-200mm l(80-320mm 35eq) long zoom. I added an 18mm f2 (27mm 35eq) prime lens in January, and last month, Fuji ran a very good sale on certain lenses, including the 27mmf2.8 (43mm 35eq) for over half off. And I added a second X-E2 body, used, at a very good price. So there's a good kit in the bag: two zooms for light travel, two primes for even lighter urban photography.
It's been a busy year for photography so far, partially inspired by the new gear, partially inspired by wanting to learn how to use the new gear. A mirrorless camera with electronic viewfinder is a different beast than a digital single lens reflex: 30 years of using SLR's for film and digital photography has trained my reactions to that kind of gear, and it is a learning curve to learn how to unthink using an SLR and retraining myself to the ways of the electronic viewfinder.
The transition has gone pretty good, but there's a lot to learn with the X-series cameras; I'm more than pleased--tremendously pleased--with the files these cameras produce: though I've been shooting everything both JPEG and RAW, I've not processed any raw files through Lightroom, so impressed have I been with the quality of sharpness and tonality (color and black and white) of photographs directly from JPEG files. I've shot a fair amount of documentary-style photos, "street" photos, graphic compositions--I'm very happy with the results. And I've put a bunch of them on my gallery site, www.bkooistra.smugmug.com.
But the one thing I hadn't tried with the X-E2 that was a staple of my years of SLR photography was the action railroad photograph. The digital Canons, incommon with all medium- and high-end DSLR's, are tops in continuous follow-focus: This is why professional sports photographers prefer DSLR's to, say, rangefinders or even mirrorless cameras. It's been a struggle for mirrorless camera producers to match the ability of the DSLR's to stay in focus while following a fast-moving subject. And while the typical moving train is certainly not the equivalent of a race car or tightly-focused athletes moving through the viewfinder, I was not fully convinced that the X-E2 could handle the task passably.
So, the Sunday afternoon meet-up with fellow rail photographers Dan Munson and Chris Palmieri would be my first test of the Fuji's train-chasing ability. Now, friends well know my aversion to any contemporary BNSF or Union Pacific locomotives, so the opportunity to chase old-school EMD conventional cab locomotives on the Fort Worth & Western Railroad was not to be missed.
We followed the four old EMD's--a pair of SD40's and a pair of GP38/40 types--out of Fort Worth on a trip along the former Santa Fe to Cresson. The day was beautiful, and after around 90 minutes waiting for the train from atop a parking garage on Fort Worth's near west side (i.e. "Seventh Avenue"), we jumped ahead an began a run-and-gun chase the last 10 miles or so across rolling prairieland into Cresson.
How'd the X-E2 do? I was curious, of course, so if Dan was giving me shit for "chimping" my LCD after each train runby, I plead guilty by explanation: I wanted to see if the Fuji was up for the task. And it was! It actually reacted quite similarly to the Canon DSLR's by wanting to search for a focusing target when encountering headlights or ditchlights, so in that respect the experience was the same. The camera kept up with the train with regards to continuous re-focusing. I didn't miss any shots due to shortcomings of the camera.
So, I'm ready for a longer trip now--carrying a MUCH lighter camera bag!
Herewith the gallery (click for full-size files):
Passing Montgomery Plaza, Fort Worth--18-55mm @ 24.3mm, 1/800 f/8 ISO400
W. of Mustang Creek--55-200mm @ 200mm, 1/1700 f6.4 ISO400
Nearing Cresson--55-200mm @ 200mm, 1/1900 f6.4 IS400
Nearing Cresson--18-55mm @ 48.4, 1/1000 f9 IS)400
Arriving Cresson--55-200mm @ 200 1/1800 f6.4 ISO400
Arriving Cresson--18-55mm @ 18 1/800 f10 ISO400
At Cresson--55-200mm @ 190 1/1000 f/9 ISO400
At Cresson--55-200mm @ 104 1/640 f/9 ISO400
At Cresson--55-200mm @ 141 1/110 f9 ISO400 (B&W conversion)