MinnKota Railfan
Sheepish Redemption - Sheep Canyon, Greybull, WY
Remarkable. Breathtaking. Awe Inspiring. Just a few words that float across my periphery as I formulate tangible sentences to describe the unique qualms of Sheep Canyon.
As several of the seasoned veterans who have been graced with the same fortune as me to tread this spot may recall, Sheep Canyon is not a railfanning spot, but an experience. The access along Ribbon Canyon Road is winding, aggressive, and daunting. Abyss after wheel swallowing abyss lines the path. Veer left. Jog right. Stop. Exit. Assess the ruts. The pickup crawls, straddles, inches along, straining as it walks over rill upon rocky rill. The snakelike path brings the truck to a grinding halt. I assess one more time. Scoria wash lines my now severed path. The road is gone, another victim of Mother Nature's unrelenting hand. Suit up. Camera in hand, Gear on my back. I peer off nearly 2 miles through the scalloped virgin landscape. There it is - the rim. Bring it.
Little by little, I dig into the trail. A mile and a half goes quickly. Turn, viewing, my transportation now a gold flake on the horizon. I slowly criss cross up the hill, avoiding jagged rocks and crossing deep cuts where water has crafted the sheer might to move boulders the size of refrigerators down the canyon. Finally, i hit the rim. Tom Danneman's words ring vividly in my head "Traffic is light, Two trains during daylight, max if you are lucky." Not but an hour into my stay on the rim, I hear a familiar drag of prime movers headed my way. The BNSF Cowley Turn drops a few boxes at Wyobean and skirts quickly through the canyon. In 10 minutes it is all but silent again.
Bats scurry in and out of the cliff walls. A blacktailed hawk circles the bighorn river below, stalking its unsuspecting aquatic prey. Groundwater shoots rimside, cascading through the canyon, shimmering rainbows below. Time creeps on. 2 hours. 4. 6. The wind sits on standby, and the sun swelters the region. Barren rock faces become griddles in the late season sun. 8 hours. 10. The sun sinks below the valley, engulfing the canyon in a familiar arrant darkness. As my hopes for catching the southbound local returning to Greybull with a string of gritty grey bentonite hoppers filing behind it diminishes, i begin my descent into the floor below. As i stand on the canyon floor and watch in utter awe at the experience i had been gifted while subsequently grumbling about my poor luck, missing the very southbound shot I had driven 500 miles to get, a lone rock the size of my fist shears off the canyon wall and strikes the blunt end of one of the rail heads. That ever familiar rumble returns. I watch in total disbelief as a familiar incandescent triangle rounds the corner. "Holy Sh*t!" I exclaim, as I claw through my camera bag and extract my DSLR. I get in position, heavily adjusting my settings to account for the extreme backlighting. Shots fired. Headshot. Successful hunt. The line of grey sooty hoppers bob and rock past me, and in another 10 minutes it is silent once more.
Sheep Canyon Wyoming - it isn't a railfanning location, it is an experience.
Side note, a huge ever needed shoutout to Tom Danneman for insight and intel on this location. Without your ever-pickable brain, this trip could not have happened.
Sheepish Redemption - Sheep Canyon, Greybull, WY
Remarkable. Breathtaking. Awe Inspiring. Just a few words that float across my periphery as I formulate tangible sentences to describe the unique qualms of Sheep Canyon.
As several of the seasoned veterans who have been graced with the same fortune as me to tread this spot may recall, Sheep Canyon is not a railfanning spot, but an experience. The access along Ribbon Canyon Road is winding, aggressive, and daunting. Abyss after wheel swallowing abyss lines the path. Veer left. Jog right. Stop. Exit. Assess the ruts. The pickup crawls, straddles, inches along, straining as it walks over rill upon rocky rill. The snakelike path brings the truck to a grinding halt. I assess one more time. Scoria wash lines my now severed path. The road is gone, another victim of Mother Nature's unrelenting hand. Suit up. Camera in hand, Gear on my back. I peer off nearly 2 miles through the scalloped virgin landscape. There it is - the rim. Bring it.
Little by little, I dig into the trail. A mile and a half goes quickly. Turn, viewing, my transportation now a gold flake on the horizon. I slowly criss cross up the hill, avoiding jagged rocks and crossing deep cuts where water has crafted the sheer might to move boulders the size of refrigerators down the canyon. Finally, i hit the rim. Tom Danneman's words ring vividly in my head "Traffic is light, Two trains during daylight, max if you are lucky." Not but an hour into my stay on the rim, I hear a familiar drag of prime movers headed my way. The BNSF Cowley Turn drops a few boxes at Wyobean and skirts quickly through the canyon. In 10 minutes it is all but silent again.
Bats scurry in and out of the cliff walls. A blacktailed hawk circles the bighorn river below, stalking its unsuspecting aquatic prey. Groundwater shoots rimside, cascading through the canyon, shimmering rainbows below. Time creeps on. 2 hours. 4. 6. The wind sits on standby, and the sun swelters the region. Barren rock faces become griddles in the late season sun. 8 hours. 10. The sun sinks below the valley, engulfing the canyon in a familiar arrant darkness. As my hopes for catching the southbound local returning to Greybull with a string of gritty grey bentonite hoppers filing behind it diminishes, i begin my descent into the floor below. As i stand on the canyon floor and watch in utter awe at the experience i had been gifted while subsequently grumbling about my poor luck, missing the very southbound shot I had driven 500 miles to get, a lone rock the size of my fist shears off the canyon wall and strikes the blunt end of one of the rail heads. That ever familiar rumble returns. I watch in total disbelief as a familiar incandescent triangle rounds the corner. "Holy Sh*t!" I exclaim, as I claw through my camera bag and extract my DSLR. I get in position, heavily adjusting my settings to account for the extreme backlighting. Shots fired. Headshot. Successful hunt. The line of grey sooty hoppers bob and rock past me, and in another 10 minutes it is silent once more.
Sheep Canyon Wyoming - it isn't a railfanning location, it is an experience.
Side note, a huge ever needed shoutout to Tom Danneman for insight and intel on this location. Without your ever-pickable brain, this trip could not have happened.