Crozier Canyon (BNSF)

A visitor usually stations along the public dirt road that parallels the right-of-way for several hundred yards. From this vantage you are little more than 40–60 feet above rail level, close enough to feel slipstream rush but safely separated by fencing and natural ledges. Expect 70 mph intermodal stacks, auto racks, and mixed freight consists that often exceed 8,000 ft in length. Locomotive lash-ups regularly feature GE ES44C4s, ET44Cs and the occasional heritage unit; distributed power mid-train consists are common, so you hear a second locomotive roar after the head-end has disappeared around the bend. The canyon shape magnifies sound, so approaching trains announce themselves several minutes out with a deep, resonant rumble. Cell coverage is intermittent, so many spotters rely on radio scanners tuned to AAR channels 32 and 66 for advance notice.

Crozier Canyon slices through the western lip of the Hualapai Plateau at roughly 4,200 ft elevation. Walls of weathered basalt rise 150–200 ft on either side, dotted with juniper, prickly pear, and occasional clusters of rabbitbrush. The canyon floor hosts the seasonal Crozier Wash, typically dry except after monsoon storms. Light is crisp much of the year: clear blue mornings from autumn through spring, and high UV sunshine in summer with late-day thunderheads forming July–September. Winter mornings can dip below freezing, but snow is rare and melts quickly. The area is remote and quiet; between trains you hear wind in the mesquite and distant coyotes from nearby Valentine Plateau, reinforcing the wild-desert sense of place.

BNSF’s Seligman Subdivision is part of the Southern Transcon linking Los Angeles and Chicago, carrying some of the heaviest freight tonnage in North America. Railfan counts done from public pull-offs near Crozier Canyon consistently register 55–65 freight movements in a 24-hour period, translating to an average of 2–3 trains every hour, with overnight peaks. Intermodal double-stacks dominate, followed by manifest freights moving commodities from the West Coast to Midwest. Unit grain, ethanol, and occasional military trains add variety. Amtrak’s Southwest Chief passes twice daily—eastbound in the predawn hours and westbound mid-morning—providing the only scheduled passenger action.

Photographers favor the eastern canyon mouth where a gentle rise allows near-level shots of westbound trains framed by canyon walls that converge in the distance. Morning light from the southeast illuminates nose, flanks, and the ochre rock face simultaneously, while late afternoon offers front-lit eastbounds with rich golden tones. A higher knoll on the south side, reachable by a short scramble, gives a top-down perspective ideal for capturing entire consists snaking through the S-curve. Long lenses (200–400 mm) isolate locomotives against textured rock, whereas wide-angles (24–35 mm) emphasize length and scenery. Dust kicked up by vortex winds can add dramatic backlit haze, so many photographers bring lens cloths and protective filters.

The grade through Crozier Canyon dates to 1883 when the Atlantic & Pacific Railroad carved its route toward Kingman. Its tight curvature and confined right-of-way forced early engineers to drill and blast more extensively than on adjacent high desert plains, making the canyon one of the line’s noteworthy construction feats. Though realignments and double-tracking in the 1960s straightened some segments, the core alignment remains. Nearby Valentine School, a historic stone building two miles east, served children of railroad workers and ranch families from 1924 until 1969, reflecting the railway’s central role in sustaining remote communities along old Route 66.

Unlike wide-open desert vistas at Seligman or Ash Fork, Crozier Canyon delivers an intimate, enclosed theatre where trains feel larger than life. The natural amphitheater produces rich reverb, so railfans can experience a locomotive’s full acoustic range, from turbo whine to flange squeal, in a way open plains cannot replicate. Additionally, the juxtaposition of bright orange BNSF power against dark volcanic rock offers color contrast rarely matched elsewhere on the Transcon, producing photographs that stand out from the typical sagebrush foreground scenes.