Ooooh, I Confess to Trespassing and Trying to Steal a Train

Tooele County Sheriff's deputies need more excitement. Except for the occasional head-on crash on Hwy 36, they don't really have a lot to challenge their police-academy training. I know, because when I park within sight of the interstate in Tooele County, a deputy stops to check me out. One bored officer did some time ago when I stopped by an old, almost-gone gas station next to I-80 on the road that goes to Dugway. A deputy pulled up behind me, sauntered to my door, and investigated my suspicious doings. I was eating my lunch.

I've seen guys with high-powered rifles poaching antelope on the Pony Express trail just 40 miles to the south, still in Tooele County, and not a deputy within, well, 40 miles. I've also seen more emptied beer bottles than sagebrush at any freeway exit all the way to Wendover. But eating your lunch on a frontage road next to the freeway is bordering on criminal.

Anyway, this afternoon I needed a quiet place to work on an article I was writing, so I chose a dirt-road railroad crossing along I-80 near Grantsville, the same place where I'd stood on the tracks and taken pictures a few weeks ago. The clearing where the road meets the tracks has a couple small sheds and a propane tank, and today there were two worker buses, a few Union Pacific hard hats, and a train or two.

I pulled up in front of the propane tank next to the tracks and sat in the passenger side of the Tahoe with my laptop on the top of my lap and my camera next to me on the floor in case a train came by, and I wrote the article.

After about three hours, a UP worker in a white Explorer stopped on his way home and told me I was on UP property and had to move, because the railroad had a lot of things there that could get stolen and they were going to be doing more stuff there in the future. That's what I said to myself: Huh? Whatever. I suppose I could have spent the three hours casing the place, but if burglary had been my intention, it really wasn't a good spot, considering it was daylight, the place was visible from 20 miles in any direction, and there was nothing worth stealing other than about six new 40-foot utility poles, a few rail cars, the 10,000-gallon propane tank, and a couple diesel-powered Union Pacific engines. The worker pointed just ahead and said I could park on the public access road. So I moved 20 feet to the public access road.

About 10 minutes later, a Tooele County deputy snuck up on me. Well, he didn't really sneak up, since I noticed him coming from about half a mile away. He wanted to know what I was up to. I told him I was working in a quiet place where I could take a picture of a train if one came by, as if I needed a reason to be in a public desert. Okay, I admit there are people dumping bodies just 20 miles to the west, near railroad tracks in Delle, and people burning themselves up in cars. I obviously wasn't doing either of those things, with my laptop and camera and all. But Officer Cliché (dark glasses, bushy mustache) wanted my ID anyway. I gave him my driver's license. He took it back to his patrol SUV and for the next 10 minutes or so I suppose he checked to see how many arrest warrants I had outstanding, while I finished the summary paragraph to my article.

Ironically, the article was on Amtrak's use of IP video security cameras at its Oakland and LA rail yards, which don't have fences or other physical security. Apparently people do steal steel rails, rail spikes, food from the commissary supply palettes, and power generators.

The deputy brought my license back and told me I was on UP property and had to move. I told him the other guy said I could park here, but I would be happy to move again.

Keep in mind that dirt roads run all over the West Desert, and many cross railroad tracks. This place happened to have a couple maintenance sheds next to the tracks, but there were no no-trespassing signs or any indication that this area was closed to the public.

Officer Benevolence told me that since the UP guy had given me permission to be there he wouldn't cite me for trespassing this time, but I'd have to move on.

I smiled, thanked him, and drove away.

After he left I went back and threw a couple utility poles and a Union Pacific diesel engine in the back of the Tahoe and drove home.