In Conclusion...

 

Would I do the trip again? No way. But there are aspects of it worth considering for another go-round. First, though, some "must pack" items:

1. Flip-flops. Even if you have a shower in your suite, you really don't want to go paddling around a train car with bare feet.

2. Humidifier. I don't know whether it was the altitude, the recirculating air or...but I have never been so dehydrated in my life. It would'a been good to have a little water vapor machine in my cabin.

3. Eye mask & Ear plugs. I had the mask, I didn't bring ear plugs. Might have made the occasional train announcement more tolerable.

BUT

All that said, I think there's the possibility of putting together a delightful journey. 

1. Fly to Chicago (or Toronto) and take the train(s) west from there. The left two-thirds of this country are beautiful, the overnight trains are bigger and newer, and the entire trip is over a lot sooner. Three ways to go:

a) The route I took (Southwest Chief) Chicago to LA;

b) Across the middle of the US (California Jephyr) Chicago to San Francisco

c) Canada Rail - from Toronto to Vancouver. There are more than a half-dozen options that include "get off for a day or two" along the way. The rooms like way more civilized and the scenery is heroic.

2. Travel with someone. It could be quite the romantic adventure.

3. Get a USA Rail Pass so you can get off anyplace you feel like exploring the region. The deal is "10 stops in 30 days," so more planning is required.

4. Spring for the bigger roomette. While two people can share the space I was in, it's bunk-beds at night and nothing romantic about it. The larger suites looked a lot more civilized.

All in all, a good learning experience. I'm glad I went. I'm glad it's over. I hope you enjoyed the trip through this sparse, but snarky, blog. Thanks for reading! 

All aboard!

Home! (but not finished)

 We were NOT on time to Penn Station last night. After a 72+ hour train ride from Los Angeles to New York, we were ten minutes early. 

Called a Lyft to Dan L's house in Brooklyn and got there by 7:30 (what happened to Monday rush-hour traffic in NYC?). Dan and the car were waiting and I was home by 9pm. Wow. About two hours earlier than my wildest dreams. 

I have one more blog to post later today -- my wrap-up observations about the whole experience. Meanwhile, gonna unpack, do laundry, get mail, etc., etc. 

Albany, NY

Monday, 3:45pm, Albany, NY

Napping and coffee help. Woke up to clearing skies and late afternoon sun (what film directors call ‘the magic hour’) in the state capital. But you wouldn’t know that from the station, which, surprisingly, isn’t anywhere near “downtown.” Had an interesting conversation over lunch with Patrick, a professor of addiction behavioral psychology in Vancouver. He’s on his way to see family in New England and said he was interviewing people on the train; trying to bring a report to his family about the temperature of this country. Hah. I don’t think he was prepared for my POV. (Which you’ll have to ply me with Irish whisky to get my story.) 

We’re three hours from Penn Station and still on time, so I’ll keep hoping that’s true. My plan at this point is to get a Lyft to Brooklyn, pick up my car keys from Dan L and drive back up to Fairfield tonight. Too many different beds in too many different places – I wanna be home! I’ll post a wrap-up or two tomorrow. 

Our Ancestors Were Smarter Than We Are...

In 1857, the U.S. War Department sent Lt. Edward Fitzgerald Beale on a mission to lay out an official government wagon road from Chicago to California. On April 30, 1926, that original trail became the basis for U.S. Route 66, starting at 17 W. Adams Street in Chicago and ending at the Santa Monica Pier in California. Even today, there are designated landmarks and restored buildings all along the 2,448 original miles that pay tribute to its importance in “uniting” our country. So why, you might ask, does that make our forefathers smarter than us? Because…

They Had the Wisdom to Stop in Chicago

Around 10pm Sunday night, about an hour southeast of Chicago, this trip got really old. If I had any winter clothes with me, I would have gotten off in Gary, IN, and walked home. There are people who can do a run like this with no problem. In fact, my across-the-corridor companion, Andrew, is completely nonplussed about going from Santa Rosa to Boston. Maybe the fact that he’s a retired harbor pilot and is used to cramped quarters makes a difference. But right now, in spite of a shower every morning and evening, I just feel…grubby. Y’know that feeling when you just can’t seem to wash the grime off of you? Yes, the train is clean. Yes, the staff is pleasant. Yes, everything is okay…but there’s an embedded dinginess that comes from age and over-cleaning of surfaces. And it’s not helped by the fact that...

Yes, That’s a Fold-Down Sink and Lift-Up Toilet in my Room

Even with my head at this end, personally I have never slept this close to a toilet (with the possible exception of a couple of college weekends when I passed out after making a call on the Porcelain Telephone).

I’ll Stop Whining Now

The day is brightening. The view out my window is Lake Erie with the sparkling towers of Toronto in the distance. My second cuppa coffee has kicked in. I’m about to reach Niagara Falls. So who knows what other adventures this trip will bring?

A Sweet Elegy

ONE MORE post before calling it a night. Stephen Vincent Benet wrote a poem, "American Names," expressing his love for the names American pioneers and frontiersmen gave our cities and towns. The opening stanza goes:

I have fallen in love with American names, 

The sharp names that never get fat, 

The snakeskin-titles of mining-claims, 

The plumed war-bonnet of Medicine Hat, 

Tucson and Deadwood and Lost Mule Flat.

 

and many of us know the last line of his poem as the title of Dee Brown's best-seller:

I shall not rest quiet in Montparnasse. 

I shall not lie easy at Winchelsea. 

You may bury my body in Sussex grass, 

You may bury my tongue at Champmedy. 

I shall not be there. I shall rise and pass. 

Bury my heart at Wounded Knee. 

It came to mind as I was sitting in the lounge and a mellifluous voice came over the speakers in a mesmerizing rhythm:

"Now boarding at platform 2, train number 30, the Capital Limited, stopping at South Bend, Elkhart, Waterloo, Toledo, Sandusky, Elyria, Cleveland, Alliance, Pittsburgh, Connellsville, Cumberland, Martinsburg, Harpers Ferry, Rockville and Washington, DC."

I wanted to go up to her and ask her to read Benet's poem, but decided against it. However, it did make me think of Danny C's love of the allure and magic of railroading....

6 Hours in Chicago

We arrived a few minutes early (!) and I was faced with six hours in Chicago. While I had quite a number of thoughts, the weather was a total deterrent. I was in LA for a month...I've got NO clothes for Chicago in December. S'okay. I've traveled enough the past ten years that six hours in a first class lounge isn't a total hardship. Besides, it gave me the opportunity to take a picture of one of the great holiday trees in the U.S.

It's a little hard to see, but what looks like decorative balls and other items are actually blowups of old train lapel pins. Every train line in the U.S. that Amtrak superseded is up there. The New Haven Railroad. NYCentral. PennCentral. etc. Kinda kool in a kitschy sorta way. 

It's currently 6pm Central time and the train is scheduled to depart at 9:30. Another roomette (thank you, again, Paul & Ellen) and LESS THAN 24 HOURS TO HOME. All I gotta say is, "Phew." There's WiFi aboard the Lake Shore Limited, so I'll be posting tomorrow on a regular schedule. Then a wrap-up post on Tuesday and thanks for following. 

Fear of Flying?

 Two of my dining car mates were pilots. The first one was easy to spot. Bob was wearing his AOPA (Aircraft Owner/Pilots Association) baseball cap. Which made me laugh. Was that the equivalent of the bumper sticker, "My other car is a Ferrari"? But when I met the second pilot at lunch Sunday, (Naval aviator, Ret) it made me think, "Do these pilots know something us airline passengers don't?" Both of them were knocked out when I showed them a couple of of Norman S's early aviation paintings. The naval pilot loved "Doolittle's Raid" and the private plane owner especially loved "Maggie and Spenser Go For A Ride." So, Norman, you've got fans aboard Amtrak! This is my last post before Chicago, so enjoy the rest of your day.

Sailing

 ...and speaking of sailing, Marc B and Nancy H would feel right at home aboard this train. Like a well-designed ship, everything is tightly packed, cleverly folded and must serve multiple purposes. This is a view of my sleeper cabin. 

Crossin' the Mighty Mississippi

 Dang, even up here in Iowa, it's a w-i-i-i-i-de river. Currently calm and smooth-flowing, but as you can see by the second photo, if you live near the river you've got to be willing to die by the river...

The first time a sailor crosses the equator there's a whole ritual the other crew members perform. Maybe we should have something like that the first time you cross the Mississippi. Like, well, they sit you in a chair, take a blue marker and draw a long, squiggly line from just above your eyebrows (label it "Lake Itaska") down to your navel (label it, "New Orleans") and put an X on the line to indicate where it was you crossed. Just a thought. 

Comments

Can't figure out why the comments option isn't working. That said, you're welcome to email me. I appreciate the feedback. Steve@psinsights.com 

Saturday Morning, Outside KC, Missouri

For those of you looking for updates, my apologies. As I wrote on Thursday, the Southwestern Chief has no internet service and travels directly through the region of “no coverage” on cell phone maps. Sitting in the cafe car after KC, I came across a guy wearing a headset and working off two computer screens. A...ha! He was kind enough to show me how to get WiFi service, so I'm going to post this contemporaneous diary of the past two days. 

Friday, 7:45pm Pacific Time, Amtrak Dining Car

Dinner on the train was…dinner on the train. Nothing to rave about and nothing to complain about. Tasty, slightly overcooked (not sure the chef knows the concept of “al dente”) and definitely filling. A little disappointed that it wasn’t like the movies – no mysterious woman in sunglasses sat down across from me and said, “Pretend you’re my husband!” OTOH, the person they DID seat me next to had her own bizarre tale to tell that might have outdone any spy-on-the-train story.

Context: Tables in the dining car are set for two or four people. Singles get paired up on an as-you-walk-in basis. I was looking forward to a peaceful dinner when the waiter brought my table-mate over. Middle-aged, slightly scattered and wearing a body brace from neck to belt-line. I smiled and said, “Good evening.”  Ignoring me, she called someone on her cell, chatting away as if I wasn’t there, hung up and adjusted the body brace. Then, unprompted, as if she and I had known each other for years, she launched into her tale of woe. The body brace? An ER in LA had diagnosed a broken vertebrate and outfitted her with the brace the previous day. Why was she in LA? To get married. To someone she’d been corresponding with on a seniors dating site. Did he show up at the train station? Not a chance. So for the previous three days she’d been living on the streets of LA. At which point I asked, “By the train station?” And when she said, “Yes,” I wanted to put my KN95 mask back on and flee to another car. For those of you who are unfamiliar with LA, that gorgeous train station is right next to LA’s bowery. According to health care workers, that tent city is a festering health crisis including every variation of COVID, every disease associated with shared needles plus regular outbreaks of typhus and tuberculosis. (!) Yeah, you read that right. 

Friday, 9:30pm Pacific Time, Barstow, CA

Came back from dinner and found my bed had been made and the curtains drawn. Very cool. No chocolates on the pillow, but nice enough. There are only two other occupied suites in this entire car, so showers, bathrooms, changing, etc. is easy enough. I lay around on my bed for an hour or so watching the endless parade of industrial zones that stretch along railroad tracks around the world. Turned off the light, put on an eye mask and only woke up three times during the night.

Saturday, 5:20am, Flagstaff, AZ

Got up, went to the observation car, and, as I had suspected, enjoyed the purple/orange sunrise and miles of open plains.

Saturday, 6:20am, Winslow AZ

Yes, all you baby boomers of a certain age, there really is a Winslow, AZ and now I can say I’ve been there. It was still dark, so I guess we were on the western edge of Mountain Time Zone, but the dining car opened at 6:30, so I grabbed a bite, chatted with my table-mate (A grandpa heading to Boston to visit his grandkids) and went back to my room for a couple of hours rest.

Saturday, 9am, Zuni Reservation East of Gallup, NM

Gosh, we live in a big country. I know I said I’m not a spectator/tourist, but it’s impossible not to be overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of the countryside. Of course, my old habits kick in and every five minutes or so I was thinking, “I gotta come back here with a rock hammer and a backpack.” You can literally see the millennia in the exposed strata of the rocks. It’s also impossible to ignore the abject poverty on the reservation and the irony of the White Man's Iron Horse just carving its right-of-way through the heart of their land. Also noticed the absence of bicycles. Virtually nothing is paved, so a horse is every kid’s bicycle. There are so many different Americas…

Saturday, 11am, Albuquerque, NM

It’s a good week to be on a train – I’m right between the Thanksgiving and Christmas family reunion crush. Have not seen anyone under 20 on board and it’s been low-key all the way. With no one boarding, stops have been short and we arrived here an hour early. But, of course, they don’t say, “Great, let’s keep this up!” Instead, the 30-minute layover turned into almost 90 minutes. I spent a fruitless half hour of that trying to connect any of my devices to any open network I could find, gave up and resigned myself to inspecting the “hand woven native blankets” on sale at the row of kiosks next to the station. All aboard….

Saturday, 2pm Mountain Time – Cliff Notes

I actually took four or five geology and geography classes in college, and I’ve found the ability of geologists to “read” the past quite fascinating. While I only spent five or six hours today in the  observation car, each time it was clear I was looking at a different part of the Earth’s history. The colors ranged from red to yellow to dark brown and black. Some were igneous, some metamorphic but each had a different story to tell. And I wish I knew more about it so I could “read” the stories.

Saturday, 7:20pm Mountain Time, La Junta Colorado

I’ve driven cross country solo and with Carole S probably a dozen times in both directions – from I-10 across the Redneck Riviera to I-80 across the Dakotas and badlands. I’ve walked a few hundred miles of the Appalachian Trail and I’m now doing it by rail. But I think OJ (H, not Simpson) has the right idea…he’s done it on his BMW motorcycle. What a great way to go. Driving IN the scene, not through it. Being able to stop anytime and anyplace your tushie tells you to. I’m reminded of this because OJ sent me a text about one of his favorite holes in the wall: La Junta, Colorado. I’m due there in two hours and there’s a 10-minute layover…so it’s possible I can find the internet and post all of this.

Leaving Los Angeles, It's Impossible Not to Be a Tourist

Union Station. One of the great examples of every architectural style of the 1920s/1930s: Art Deco, Mission Revival and Streamline Moderne. Also the last great rail station built in the U.S. 

And directly across the street from Olivera Street -- the oldest street in the LA pueblo. 

....which was a perfect place to get one last great, greasy Cal-Mex meal before boarding the train. 

Oh, and as long as we're doing sightseeing, one of the hidden gems in LA is the Watts Towers (aka Simon Rodia Towers). Lovingly restored after coming within weeks of the wrecking ball in the 1960s. I personally consider it the greatest example of American Folk Art ever. Full stop. 

All aboard....

 

Tonight is the Second Night of Hannukah

To Light or Not to Light, That is the Question

I bought a menorah (hanukkiah for you purists) for the trip and came face-to-face with my own hypocrisy. I "observe" Hannukah as a celebration of family with gifts for the kids & grandkids and latkes with friends. While I claim to be an atheist, there's no question that I'm 'culturally Jewish.' But since October 7th, no one gets to be Jew"ish." My thought was to bring the menorah to the dining car every evening and invite people to light the candles. The moral dilemma is this: Am I lighting candles just to be provocative? Do I light them as a declaration? Do I not light them and avoid what might be an ugly scene aboard the train? Since I board after sundown tonight, this won't be a question until Saturday evening...and I'm happy to  take your thoughts/comments/reactions. 

 Amtrak Giveth...

Trying to figure out my food needs, I went to the Amtrak website and actually read their information. Lo and behold, the price of the trip includes all meals. D'oh! Three a day. Breakfast, lunch and dinner. Tips, however, are another matter and apparently fodder for conversation out on the web. Now where are my brother, Paul, and sister-in-law, Ellen, when I need them? On a cruise, of course, where they probably solved this issue many years ago. I'm reminded of my first trip to Hollywood in the late 70s when I worked for NBC. Of course I had to stay at the pink palace -- the Beverly Hills Hotel where I became fascinated by the etiquette of  tipping the valet parkers. I discovered if I gave the kids a buck, they would take it and walk away (hey, a buck meant a lot in 1977... at least I thought so), leaving me standing next to an open car door. Two bucks got me a nod but the same cold shoulder. It took a $5 bill to get them to hold the door open, wait for me to get in and then close the door behind me. I guess that's how valet attendants train their hotel guests. I suspect the same will be true aboard the Southwestern Chief...

Amtrak Taketh Away...

Then I clicked on the tab, "Journey with WiFi" which provided a list of all the Amtrak trains that have wifi service. Acela? Check. Amtrak Cascades? Check. Ethan Allen Express? Check. Illinois Zephyr? Check. But nowhere on the list was the Southwestern Chief listed. 

Wait, what? I'm supposed to go three days and three nights with no internet? OMG. But then I thought, 'Okay, that's a royal pain in the ass, but at least my telephone is a hot link.' But here we need a minor digression. Y'know all those cell phone service ads? The ones that promise "98% coverage...95% coverage..." Well, take a look at one of those coverage maps.

See all those blank places with no coverage? Now look at the route map of the Southwestern Chief. 

Apparently, the purple spots along the route are the towns we'll be stopping at. Which means I need to pre-plan what I want to download, review, read, etc. -- and then get seven to ten minutes at each stop to identify the local wifi, make a connection, agree to terms and download what I'll need. Okay, I can do this...BUT in the meantime, I've spent the afternoon downloading digital books from the Fairfield Public Library. Onward!

I don't travel by itinerary. 

If you said, "Let's go to Paris," I'd grab an overnight bag and my passport and would meet you at the airport. When I walked across England with Kelly M, I was in the hands of an accomplished explorer -- his publishing business was The Intrepid Traveler and he was already a member of the Century Club (100+ countries visited and counting). When I walked Cinque Terre with Stephen L, I was also in the hands of an accomplished tour guide. In both those cases, all I had to do was show up. 

I also don't travel as a sightseer.

Virtually all my vacations and personal adventures involve doing, not looking. In 2003 I took a few months and drove around the US and Canada. On more than one occasion I would arrive at a famous landmark and find myself thinking, "Gee, it looks just like the pictures." I believe in the saying I saw on a T-shirt once in Napa, CA: "Bad Decisions Make Good Stories." I am a Master of Both.

But in order to sit/sleep/ride by myself aboard an Amtrak train for three days and nights, I needed to put aside both those habits and figure out some kind of plan. Like what to pack for food and snacks. What to download to read and play. When to head to the observation car for the pretty parts. In short, at the suggestion of OJ (H, not Simpson) I had to turn lemons into lemonade.

All Aboard, Amtrak

Over the next seven days, I plan to fill this blog/journal/diary with all of it. Good and bad. I hope you'll find it engaging, enjoyable and vicariously entertaining. If any of you have actually done this trip and want to share your advice or suggestion or insight, by all means post it in the comments. And now, in the words of the late, great Richie Havens, "All Aboard, Amtrak." (A great, sung tagline in service of a truly mediocre product.)