I have posted two new galleries of photos from the trip. And, I have one more set to go.
Remember, if you want to read the entries in chronological order, you have to start at the bottom and work your way up!
~j
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Monday, July 09, 2007
Would I Do it Again? – Part I
Another 24 hours have gone by, so I best answer this question before other things interfere with my thinking.
The honest answer is yes maybe, I would do this again. But, if some things did not change or changed for the worse, I am not sure I would do it again. Here are the plusses and minuses.
Plus:
- I got to see my sister.
- I got to see some incredibly beautiful parts of the country that cannot be seen any other way.
- I met some truly interesting, dare I say fascinating people.
- I got some great photos and videos,
- Relatively little, if any, “jet” lag.
- The amenities of traveling by train are far better than those in the air. They are better food, better service, more space, and places to stretch one’s legs.
- No anxiety. No sitting on runway for nine hours.
- Generally very good service from the Amtrak staff, and in some cases, excellent service.
Minuses:
- It was very expensive.
- This might partially because I waited so long to book the trip, and took the trip in summer, Amtrak’s busy season.
- It took a long time. I was actually on the train longer than my visit in OR.
- It was not possible to stop and spend more time in some of the locations along the way – at least not the way I booked the trip. This is possible, but I would have to see what the difference in pricing would be.
- “Sleeping” in the roomette is tight and bumpy. One does not really get a good sleep on the train.
- Restroom facilities on the train leave something to be desired.
- Dependable scheduling; we were off time more than we were on-time.
- Meeting “problem” people.
- Amtrak Elbow and Amtrak Legs.
Things I would do differently:
- Try to find a better fare by considering travel at a different time.
- Consider making some stops for several days along the way.
- Consider more time and the end destination.
- Consider moving up to a full size room instead of the roomette.
- Consider an alternate route so I can see more of the country. Several travelers I spoke to too the Zephyr to California, then took a train to Seattle and then Empire Builder back to Chicago.
- Bring less clothing and more pillows.
- Travel with others – but don’t try to share a room.
- Try the trip at a different time of the year.
The Final Chapter – July 8, 2007
I slept like the proverbial log last night at Bob’s. It was much warmer and more humid from what I have been sleeping in for the past two weeks, but I was so tired I think I could have slept through a nuclear attack.
I came out of a deep sleep at 9:55 am and climbed out of bed at 10:00. I still have my Amtrak legs, but they do not seem as bad as the day I arrived in Portland. I think my vestibular system is so overloaded it has closed down completely.
We have a leisurely morning of breakfast and conversation and then I load the car and head the last 80 miles to Augusta.
I’ve started the process of reviewing the hundreds of photos and video images that I collected on the last leg of the journey and many of them are great. I learned a few things about how to take better pictures after reviewing the set from the westbound leg, so I hope that I have more keepers in this set. One thing I also learned was that trying to take “stills” at 80 mph in a moving train is just about impossible, particularly when there is stuff moving in the foreground. It was okay for the long landscapes out in the prairies, but once we were back in the lands of trees, I stuck primarily with videos.
So, I will have to edit the videos and link some together and start posting them in chronological segments on YouTube. Stay tuned!
As for final reflections, I think I will try to decompress a bit more and then provide a post script. My head is still literally spinning, so I think I need some time to readjust and reflect.
The question most asked so far – and I expect to be asked many times in the days ahead – is whether I would do it again. And I don’t have a clear answer yet.
I came out of a deep sleep at 9:55 am and climbed out of bed at 10:00. I still have my Amtrak legs, but they do not seem as bad as the day I arrived in Portland. I think my vestibular system is so overloaded it has closed down completely.
We have a leisurely morning of breakfast and conversation and then I load the car and head the last 80 miles to Augusta.
I’ve started the process of reviewing the hundreds of photos and video images that I collected on the last leg of the journey and many of them are great. I learned a few things about how to take better pictures after reviewing the set from the westbound leg, so I hope that I have more keepers in this set. One thing I also learned was that trying to take “stills” at 80 mph in a moving train is just about impossible, particularly when there is stuff moving in the foreground. It was okay for the long landscapes out in the prairies, but once we were back in the lands of trees, I stuck primarily with videos.
So, I will have to edit the videos and link some together and start posting them in chronological segments on YouTube. Stay tuned!
As for final reflections, I think I will try to decompress a bit more and then provide a post script. My head is still literally spinning, so I think I need some time to readjust and reflect.
The question most asked so far – and I expect to be asked many times in the days ahead – is whether I would do it again. And I don’t have a clear answer yet.
Perhaps the most positive part of the return voyage was a perception of time moving quickly. In fact, the last two days flew by and even the long stretches of flat countryside seemed to be flashing past more quickly. It could be the fact that I was “moving against the sun” on the return and kept losing time as we changed time zones. But maybe it is just that familiar perception of time moving too quickly when you don’t want something to end. We’ll sort that out and have sometime more to say soon.
South Station
Despite the late start, delays along the way, and my impatience, the Lake Shore Limited arrives in Boston South Station only 15 minutes late from its scheduled 9:45 pm arrival time. Once again the Amtrak folks have squeezed the proverbial rabbit out of the hat with this one. We had been over an hour late at one point, and somehow – mysteriously – we are almost on time. One of the passengers comments that if it arrives anytime with 12 hours of its intended arrival time, Amtrak considers it a good day.
While we make the last few miles from Framingham, I hear the people behind me talking and sounding confused about South Station, North Station and Back Bay. I enquire and learn they too are from Maine – Presque Isle, Maine. I thought I had won the prize that day for the longest trip. But theirs from LA, through the southwest, up to Chicago and then to Boston beat mine; and they still had a 10 hour drive ahead of them.
They were on their way to a hotel for the night, a bus ride to Portland at 8:00 am and then the long drive home. I kinda wished I had introduced myself earlier it might have been fun chatting with them more. But I was in a bit of a foul mood as I was expecting the train to be as much as two hours late and worried about my friend Bob having to wait for me.
I grabbed my bags from the platform and headed out to Atlantic Ave and met Bob. We were back at his house in Wells by midnight and after a beer and a little time to decompress, it was bed and dreamland for this tired puppy.
While we make the last few miles from Framingham, I hear the people behind me talking and sounding confused about South Station, North Station and Back Bay. I enquire and learn they too are from Maine – Presque Isle, Maine. I thought I had won the prize that day for the longest trip. But theirs from LA, through the southwest, up to Chicago and then to Boston beat mine; and they still had a 10 hour drive ahead of them.
They were on their way to a hotel for the night, a bus ride to Portland at 8:00 am and then the long drive home. I kinda wished I had introduced myself earlier it might have been fun chatting with them more. But I was in a bit of a foul mood as I was expecting the train to be as much as two hours late and worried about my friend Bob having to wait for me.
I grabbed my bags from the platform and headed out to Atlantic Ave and met Bob. We were back at his house in Wells by midnight and after a beer and a little time to decompress, it was bed and dreamland for this tired puppy.
Sunday, July 08, 2007
The Final Stretch – I hope
This has always been the worse part of the journey. Not because it comes at the end when your butt is so numb you can’t feel it, but because this run is notorious in its lateness. The only other time I made this journey, we left the Albany station about two hours late, rolled down the track about 10 miles and then came to a stop. On that day it was snowing and actually quite pretty. I remembered again that line from the James Taylor song – “the Berkshires seem dreamlike…” And, indeed they were – for about 15 minutes. After 45 it was not fun and I started to calculate just how late we would arrive in Boston and whether there would be any buses left for me to take to Portland.
On the way out here 11 days ago, you will recall we were over an hour late getting to Albany and had to back up twice to let freight come through.
This time I am prepared for a long and arduous final press to Boston. And now at 6:20 we are over an hour late, have already stopped twice and backed up once.
When I got on the train there was lots of chatter as people, apparently unfamiliar with this line, were excitedly waiting for the journey to begin. When we made the first unscheduled stop, I announce, “and so it begins.” Now, having been on this train for over two hours and having not made our first stop in Pittsfield, the mood is, shall we say, more subdued.
By the way, among those on today’s train is the real Rain Man and his brother. Rain Man only looks a little like Dustin Hoffman (same costume and mannerisms) but brother is definitely no Tom Cruise. The conversations are identical to the movie and I am wondering if I am seeing some of Dustin’s research in real life. Remember Rain Man would not take an airplane. I hope to God we don’t miss Jeopardy.
On the way out here 11 days ago, you will recall we were over an hour late getting to Albany and had to back up twice to let freight come through.
This time I am prepared for a long and arduous final press to Boston. And now at 6:20 we are over an hour late, have already stopped twice and backed up once.
When I got on the train there was lots of chatter as people, apparently unfamiliar with this line, were excitedly waiting for the journey to begin. When we made the first unscheduled stop, I announce, “and so it begins.” Now, having been on this train for over two hours and having not made our first stop in Pittsfield, the mood is, shall we say, more subdued.
By the way, among those on today’s train is the real Rain Man and his brother. Rain Man only looks a little like Dustin Hoffman (same costume and mannerisms) but brother is definitely no Tom Cruise. The conversations are identical to the movie and I am wondering if I am seeing some of Dustin’s research in real life. Remember Rain Man would not take an airplane. I hope to God we don’t miss Jeopardy.
Sixteen Years on the Erie Canal
The run from Buffalo to Albany is essential uneventful. There a couple of slow spots, but we manage to get in to Rensselaer only about 35 minutes late. Again, I think they figure some wiggle room in the time between some stops because at one point we were close to ninety minutes late.
I am on the north side of the car on this run and this has afforded me a better view of Lake Erie, such as it is, and some other sights I have not seen before. Most notable is a large lake (Onondaga) to the north of Syracuse. We also cross the West Canada Creek in Herkimer which runs into the Mohawk River/Erie Canal at this point. On the other hand, I miss seeing the “falls’ in Little Falls which I recall is rather nice.
I shoot some video of the LSL crossing the Hudson, this time I am pointing the camera up river. We then crawl into the station and the mad shuffle begins.
Despite my better judgment, I rush to get off the platform and up the escalator and down the second escalator to the Boston-bound train. But when I get to the top of the escalator, it is a lot more of hurry up and wait. In their wisdom, Amtrak waits to board this train until the eastbound 48 train is in the station. When we finally board, we wait some more.
I am on the north side of the car on this run and this has afforded me a better view of Lake Erie, such as it is, and some other sights I have not seen before. Most notable is a large lake (Onondaga) to the north of Syracuse. We also cross the West Canada Creek in Herkimer which runs into the Mohawk River/Erie Canal at this point. On the other hand, I miss seeing the “falls’ in Little Falls which I recall is rather nice.
I shoot some video of the LSL crossing the Hudson, this time I am pointing the camera up river. We then crawl into the station and the mad shuffle begins.
Despite my better judgment, I rush to get off the platform and up the escalator and down the second escalator to the Boston-bound train. But when I get to the top of the escalator, it is a lot more of hurry up and wait. In their wisdom, Amtrak waits to board this train until the eastbound 48 train is in the station. When we finally board, we wait some more.
Shuffle Off
I remember coming through Buffalo, New York in the early morning in my last return from Chicago on the LSL. I think they purposefully do this either late at night or early in the morning because it is so sad.
Buffalo, which once had an active manufacturing base and had capitalized on its location at the confluence of the Erie Canal and Lake Erie, has clearly seen better times. In a previous blog, I noted the diminished quality of many of the stations on the Amtrak route. As we approached the new station for Buffalo – which is actually located in the eastern suburb of Depew – we pass the stately old Buffalo station with the remains of its grand entrance, and tall clock-tower building. Most of the windows are broken out, and graffiti has ruined the rest. It is simply
pathetic.
Buffalo, which once had an active manufacturing base and had capitalized on its location at the confluence of the Erie Canal and Lake Erie, has clearly seen better times. In a previous blog, I noted the diminished quality of many of the stations on the Amtrak route. As we approached the new station for Buffalo – which is actually located in the eastern suburb of Depew – we pass the stately old Buffalo station with the remains of its grand entrance, and tall clock-tower building. Most of the windows are broken out, and graffiti has ruined the rest. It is simply
pathetic.It's A Grand Old Name
After my mad dash of uploads in the Metro Lounge in Union Station, I headed down to the Lake Shore Limited (LSL) around 9:15. Amtrak changed the schedule recently and the train now leaves at 10:00 pm instead of 7:00 pm. So to placate the passengers riding sleepers, they allow boarding at 8:00 pm and invite them to a wine and cheese party.
So, at 9-something, I board the eastbound LSL, stowed my stuff and head to the dining car where I am met by this red-haired lady who spoke with a bit of a brogue. I am seated with a couple from New York City who are returning from a trip to Milwaukee having attended a concert with Jon Bon Jovi. They currently live in the West Village (West Greenwich Village for you non-New York types) and this has been their first trip by train. We share war stories of NY and I regale them with my stories of Old Brooklyn.
The Village People tell me the red-haired lady is also from NY so I call out to her to find out where.
“Sunnyside,” she says.
“Where in Sunnyside,” I ask.
“Forty-turd street,” she says, her Irish now more apparent.
“Oh, my gawd, 43-09 47th Ave…?” I babble.
“You live on 43rd St.” says she.
“No, but my grandmother lived at 43-09 47th Ave.”
“That’s right up the block!”
The Village People are very impressed. “This happens to me all the time,” I tell them.
“We used to go to the White Castle, down on the corner. And you remind me of a woman who used to work there. Her name was Rose.”
“I live right across the street,” says she. “I remember, Rose. She worked there a long time ago. She’s not there any more.”
“I think she’s be about a hundred now,” I joke.
“Small world,” say the Village People.
We finish our drinks and tell the red-haired lady we will get out of her hair now. She says something about needing to get ready for breakfast.
As we pull out of the station, I tell the Village People to look out the right side and back towards the tail end of the city to see the lights of Chicago. I return to roomette eight to sleep, perchance to dream.
When I awaken we are sitting in Cleveland station. I look out and see the wind turbine making free money off of the Lake Erie breezes. I think of the red-haired lady in the dining car and realize I did not get her name.
I finally get up and it is either 6:30 or 7:30 am. I cannot remember if I reset my watch. I go looking for some coffee, but the pot in my sleeper car is apparently dead. Jose, our sleeping car attendant who looks like Biff Henderson, is nowhere to be found. So, I pull on some decent clothing and go searching for the dining car.
I am again greeted by the red-haired lady. “The Irishman is here,” she says, a tone of Irish sarcasm in her voice. She directs me to an open seat in her section.
“Coffee?”
“Please, God love ya…” I say in my best Irish. I believe I am making a new friend.
As the red-haired lady brings me my first cup, I notice her name tag; Mary - of course.
I have the French Toast and chat with a man from San Antonio and his seven year old daughter. They are heading for Utica, NY, his hometown. This is the little girl’s first trip there. We talk about snow, Maine, trains and travel; the girl tells me she has four dogs and a cat. The man has not been there in years. I wonder if he will be surprised.
The San Antonians finish and leave, and I nurse the second cup hot java. As I am about to leave, Mary reappears with a coffee-to-go. Mary can apparently read my mind. I leave her a five buck tip and tell her I’ll see her at lunch. Now I know I have made a new friend. “Tank you, love,” she says as I shuffle back to the sleeper.
Is it a coincidence that we are riding along the shores of Lake Erie? I don’t think so.
So, at 9-something, I board the eastbound LSL, stowed my stuff and head to the dining car where I am met by this red-haired lady who spoke with a bit of a brogue. I am seated with a couple from New York City who are returning from a trip to Milwaukee having attended a concert with Jon Bon Jovi. They currently live in the West Village (West Greenwich Village for you non-New York types) and this has been their first trip by train. We share war stories of NY and I regale them with my stories of Old Brooklyn.
The Village People tell me the red-haired lady is also from NY so I call out to her to find out where.
“Sunnyside,” she says.
“Where in Sunnyside,” I ask.
“Forty-turd street,” she says, her Irish now more apparent.
“Oh, my gawd, 43-09 47th Ave…?” I babble.
“You live on 43rd St.” says she.
“No, but my grandmother lived at 43-09 47th Ave.”
“That’s right up the block!”
The Village People are very impressed. “This happens to me all the time,” I tell them.
“We used to go to the White Castle, down on the corner. And you remind me of a woman who used to work there. Her name was Rose.”
“I live right across the street,” says she. “I remember, Rose. She worked there a long time ago. She’s not there any more.”
“I think she’s be about a hundred now,” I joke.
“Small world,” say the Village People.
We finish our drinks and tell the red-haired lady we will get out of her hair now. She says something about needing to get ready for breakfast.
As we pull out of the station, I tell the Village People to look out the right side and back towards the tail end of the city to see the lights of Chicago. I return to roomette eight to sleep, perchance to dream.
When I awaken we are sitting in Cleveland station. I look out and see the wind turbine making free money off of the Lake Erie breezes. I think of the red-haired lady in the dining car and realize I did not get her name.
I finally get up and it is either 6:30 or 7:30 am. I cannot remember if I reset my watch. I go looking for some coffee, but the pot in my sleeper car is apparently dead. Jose, our sleeping car attendant who looks like Biff Henderson, is nowhere to be found. So, I pull on some decent clothing and go searching for the dining car.
I am again greeted by the red-haired lady. “The Irishman is here,” she says, a tone of Irish sarcasm in her voice. She directs me to an open seat in her section.
“Coffee?”
“Please, God love ya…” I say in my best Irish. I believe I am making a new friend.
As the red-haired lady brings me my first cup, I notice her name tag; Mary - of course.
I have the French Toast and chat with a man from San Antonio and his seven year old daughter. They are heading for Utica, NY, his hometown. This is the little girl’s first trip there. We talk about snow, Maine, trains and travel; the girl tells me she has four dogs and a cat. The man has not been there in years. I wonder if he will be surprised.
The San Antonians finish and leave, and I nurse the second cup hot java. As I am about to leave, Mary reappears with a coffee-to-go. Mary can apparently read my mind. I leave her a five buck tip and tell her I’ll see her at lunch. Now I know I have made a new friend. “Tank you, love,” she says as I shuffle back to the sleeper.
Is it a coincidence that we are riding along the shores of Lake Erie? I don’t think so.
Chicago
I have already blogged a brief description of our arrival into the Windy City – here are the details I left out.
Arrival in Chicago was delayed by “road work” and our encounter with the fuel leak in Havre. When we got to Milwaukee only ninety minutes late, I thought maybe we could make up that time with the “wiggle room” Amtrak leaves at the end of the schedule. But the Chicago Metra trains had their way with us and after cruising south at top speed for the first 30 miles, we came to a dead stop. Then we basically crept into Union Station apparently following two of the Metra as they made their rush hour returns to the city. This is another example of where America needs to make a decision about rail. Either we have an efficient passenger rail system, or we don’t. This half-way business is a lot of crap.
The problems with passenger rail apparently were created when the national highway system and then air travel became the predominant way Americans moved about the country. The freight trains then took over the rail and only kept track they met their needs.
When Amtrak was established something like 30 years ago, they tried to co-exist with the freights. But in many cases, the freights own the track and their rules give priority to freight traffic over passengers. This is grossly evident on the Albany to Boston run where the track is now owned by CSX and a 200 mile run often takes 6-7 hours. If any other transportation system was run this poorly the consumers would be up in arms. Wait, check that. The airline industry in now just as bad and people put up with it. Ugh.
Anyway, we finally made it to Chicago where I was met by Cousin Ralph and had a wonderful, albeit brief visit. We have started initial planning for a family adventure next summer.
Thank you Cousin Ralph for a wonderful dinner and visit!
Arrival in Chicago was delayed by “road work” and our encounter with the fuel leak in Havre. When we got to Milwaukee only ninety minutes late, I thought maybe we could make up that time with the “wiggle room” Amtrak leaves at the end of the schedule. But the Chicago Metra trains had their way with us and after cruising south at top speed for the first 30 miles, we came to a dead stop. Then we basically crept into Union Station apparently following two of the Metra as they made their rush hour returns to the city. This is another example of where America needs to make a decision about rail. Either we have an efficient passenger rail system, or we don’t. This half-way business is a lot of crap.
The problems with passenger rail apparently were created when the national highway system and then air travel became the predominant way Americans moved about the country. The freight trains then took over the rail and only kept track they met their needs.
When Amtrak was established something like 30 years ago, they tried to co-exist with the freights. But in many cases, the freights own the track and their rules give priority to freight traffic over passengers. This is grossly evident on the Albany to Boston run where the track is now owned by CSX and a 200 mile run often takes 6-7 hours. If any other transportation system was run this poorly the consumers would be up in arms. Wait, check that. The airline industry in now just as bad and people put up with it. Ugh.
Anyway, we finally made it to Chicago where I was met by Cousin Ralph and had a wonderful, albeit brief visit. We have started initial planning for a family adventure next summer.
Thank you Cousin Ralph for a wonderful dinner and visit!
Friday, July 06, 2007
Editor's Notes - II
I am adding these last few entries from the Metropolitan Lounge in Chicago's Union Station. The Red Caps have been kind enough to re-boot the wireless router so I can get better connectivity. The Lounge is relatively empty as the folks with sleepers on the Lake Shore Limited were able to board at 8:00 PM. So, this is a quick update with little in the way of links and photos. I will re-edit them when I get home in two days and post.
But I have taken the time to update these blog entries for my fan club to be able to follow the progress across the country. Unfortunately, I have not had the time to take all of the most recent photos off of the camera and put them in the blog. I have some great clips including the adding of the final coach car in St. Paul this morning and the Empire Builder's return to Chicago.
This evening, we arrived in Chicago about two hours late. We apparently lost time during the night due to "track repair" and this put us out of sequence with other traffic. So we were fairly late coming into the Windy City at about 6:20.
Cousin Ralph met me at the station and took me to a wonderful restaurant down in the Loop and got me back in time to post these entries. I could easily spend hours here doing this and checking e-mail. But I will go to the train now and update the rest in about 48 hours.
Enjoy.
But I have taken the time to update these blog entries for my fan club to be able to follow the progress across the country. Unfortunately, I have not had the time to take all of the most recent photos off of the camera and put them in the blog. I have some great clips including the adding of the final coach car in St. Paul this morning and the Empire Builder's return to Chicago.
This evening, we arrived in Chicago about two hours late. We apparently lost time during the night due to "track repair" and this put us out of sequence with other traffic. So we were fairly late coming into the Windy City at about 6:20.
Cousin Ralph met me at the station and took me to a wonderful restaurant down in the Loop and got me back in time to post these entries. I could easily spend hours here doing this and checking e-mail. But I will go to the train now and update the rest in about 48 hours.
Enjoy.
Last Day on the Empire Builder
We are now in Wisconsin speeding toward the City of Beer. I retook pictures of the Wisconsin Dells and the Mississippi River from LaCrosse to Red Wing to make up for the set that somehow got lost. Unfortunately, at this time of day, the light is not as dramatic and, although still beautiful, the pictures are not as nice as the ones taken last week.
In St. Paul we picked up another coach car and an abundance of new passengers. Along the way I continue to be amazed by the numbers of people who board and exit the train in all these little and big towns. I wonder if Amtrak may in fact be the only public transportation in some of these locales. In any case, it is clear the Empire Builder is more than a way of getting from coast to coast.
I skipped the dining car lunch again today and enjoy another Hebrew National hot dog in the club car.
In St. Paul we picked up another coach car and an abundance of new passengers. Along the way I continue to be amazed by the numbers of people who board and exit the train in all these little and big towns. I wonder if Amtrak may in fact be the only public transportation in some of these locales. In any case, it is clear the Empire Builder is more than a way of getting from coast to coast.
I skipped the dining car lunch again today and enjoy another Hebrew National hot dog in the club car.
Where the Deer, the Antelope and the Train Buffs Play
Yesterday morning, early, as we were making our way to Whitefish I was overjoyed to see so many deer out grazing in the small meadows adjacent to the track. I started counting and was up to six deer before we hit Whitefish. I was impressed by the size and good coloring of the animals assured this was a great place for deer to live.
The “deer” on the other side of the Rockies did not look so healthy, or so I thought. As we passed Browning on the way to Cut Bank, I noticed quite a few more creatures that were lighter in color and smaller in size.
At lunch, the guy that looked like Jimmy Carter suggested the “deer” I had been counting might actually be antelope. Indeed, we passed one at that very moment and it was confirmed that these creatures with the “fuzzy horns” were antelope.
So the count is all mixed up, but by dusk I was up to 16 creatures.
Throughout the trip there have been other kinds of “wildlife” along the rails. These are the “train buffs” who appear in all shapes and sizes and venture out whenever the Empire Builder comes to town. I’m sure “train buff” is an offensive term to them – similar to calling Star Trek fans “trekkies instead of the preferred “trekers.” Perhaps the correct term is “railroad enthusiasts,” so I will refer to them as RE’s.
The RE’s are everywhere, small towns, and large cities, at stations and at crossroads. Some come with cameras, some come with small children, and some come solo. But they are out there all the time. We just left Minneapolis/St.Paul and I saw a guy pulled over by the side of a busy highway, clicking away. In Albany on the way out, there was an entire video crew made up of college kids who were making a documentary. I offered my services for an interview, but was declined. In East Glacier there was an Asian man who had set up a large expensive camera and tripod on the platform and was wildly clicking away as the train pulled out of the station.
And, at literally hundreds of smaller stations and crossing gates along the route, cars could be seen filled RE’s anxious to see the train.
When we were kids at Point O’Woods, the New Haven Railroad passed nearby. At a place we called Little Beach, the rails sat on an elevated causeway next to the beach. This open area gave us the opportunity to see the train coming from a distance and jump up in time to wave.
Even though they still had passenger trains in those days, we mostly were interested in waving to the engineer – who in my mind always waved back. And he always blew his horn as he passed. We thought he was blowing it just for us, but as I got older, I realized the engineer was blowing the horn because of an unguarded crossing on that stretch of track.
Several years ago I was lucky enough to ride the high speed Acela train from Boston to Washington. I was most excited at the opportunity to pass Little Beach on this trip but was disappointed by the fact that at 100+ mph – the speed the Acela makes on that run – Little Beach was nothing more than a blur. I’m not sure the engineer blew his horn, but I am sure that any little kid standing on the beach would still be waving; even if we couldn’t see him.
The “deer” on the other side of the Rockies did not look so healthy, or so I thought. As we passed Browning on the way to Cut Bank, I noticed quite a few more creatures that were lighter in color and smaller in size.
At lunch, the guy that looked like Jimmy Carter suggested the “deer” I had been counting might actually be antelope. Indeed, we passed one at that very moment and it was confirmed that these creatures with the “fuzzy horns” were antelope.
So the count is all mixed up, but by dusk I was up to 16 creatures.
Throughout the trip there have been other kinds of “wildlife” along the rails. These are the “train buffs” who appear in all shapes and sizes and venture out whenever the Empire Builder comes to town. I’m sure “train buff” is an offensive term to them – similar to calling Star Trek fans “trekkies instead of the preferred “trekers.” Perhaps the correct term is “railroad enthusiasts,” so I will refer to them as RE’s.
The RE’s are everywhere, small towns, and large cities, at stations and at crossroads. Some come with cameras, some come with small children, and some come solo. But they are out there all the time. We just left Minneapolis/St.Paul and I saw a guy pulled over by the side of a busy highway, clicking away. In Albany on the way out, there was an entire video crew made up of college kids who were making a documentary. I offered my services for an interview, but was declined. In East Glacier there was an Asian man who had set up a large expensive camera and tripod on the platform and was wildly clicking away as the train pulled out of the station.
And, at literally hundreds of smaller stations and crossing gates along the route, cars could be seen filled RE’s anxious to see the train.
When we were kids at Point O’Woods, the New Haven Railroad passed nearby. At a place we called Little Beach, the rails sat on an elevated causeway next to the beach. This open area gave us the opportunity to see the train coming from a distance and jump up in time to wave.
Even though they still had passenger trains in those days, we mostly were interested in waving to the engineer – who in my mind always waved back. And he always blew his horn as he passed. We thought he was blowing it just for us, but as I got older, I realized the engineer was blowing the horn because of an unguarded crossing on that stretch of track.
Several years ago I was lucky enough to ride the high speed Acela train from Boston to Washington. I was most excited at the opportunity to pass Little Beach on this trip but was disappointed by the fact that at 100+ mph – the speed the Acela makes on that run – Little Beach was nothing more than a blur. I’m not sure the engineer blew his horn, but I am sure that any little kid standing on the beach would still be waving; even if we couldn’t see him.
Fore
Stanley must be the golfing capital of the North Dakota. As we cross into ND from Montana we are now in the western most section of the Central Time Zone. Similar to the coast of Oregon, the sun sets here very late. I think it was close to 10:00 pm when we made our stop in Stanley just under two hours late. The sun was just setting and when we left the station we passed a rather splendid looking golf course adjacent to the rail. There teeing up were two guys and another foursome could be seen on the adjacent hole. I’m not sure if I was impressed by the fact that there were so many people out golfing at dusk as much as the fact that they were golfing at almost ten o’clock at night. Those farmers!
Did I tell you there was a golf course at the Lodge in East Glacier?
Did I tell you there was a golf course at the Lodge in East Glacier?
The Woman Who Came to Dinner
I met some nice people at the wine tasting this afternoon. One was a teacher from Orlando, FL who looks like a young version of my friend Betty J. The other couple are from a small town in north central PA – I think they said Wellsboro. I had never heard of it. They indicated it was north of Williamstown and is known for its Victorian houses. Three years ago they purchased one of these old Victorians which they are now restoring. They travel a great deal on Amtrak and have seen a lot of changes. They tell us that the Empire Builder is trying to win back business by improving service, but apparently it is still a far cry from the golden days. They have gotten on in Albany so we will be seeing a lot of each other.
I chose the 5:00 pm dinner reservation which is listed as 6:00 pm because we are supposed to be in Central Time by then. I meet a couple from Mississippi and am looking forward to a leisurely dinner getting to know these people. But guess who shows up and ruins it.
Mrs. Landingham again dominates the conversation with all of her worldly knowledge and her insatiable need to impress the Mississippi folk. They are a sweet couple who are making their first trip. I think it must be their first trip out of Mississippi and the poor things clearly suffer from a poor education. The wife does most of the talking and is in awe of pretty much everything she has seen on the trip. I feel good that they are out there doing things, but Mrs. L is starting to embarrass them. There is a conversational thread that centers on the settlement of various ethnic groups in Arizona where Mrs. L lives. She notes that “Basques have settled there” and the Mississippi people think she is talking about “bass.” It would have been funny if it hadn’t been so cruel, particularly when she asks the woman if she ever reads.
We can’t get to Minneapolis fast enough. Mrs. Landingham is getting off there. If not, I’m throwing her off.
I chose the 5:00 pm dinner reservation which is listed as 6:00 pm because we are supposed to be in Central Time by then. I meet a couple from Mississippi and am looking forward to a leisurely dinner getting to know these people. But guess who shows up and ruins it.
Mrs. Landingham again dominates the conversation with all of her worldly knowledge and her insatiable need to impress the Mississippi folk. They are a sweet couple who are making their first trip. I think it must be their first trip out of Mississippi and the poor things clearly suffer from a poor education. The wife does most of the talking and is in awe of pretty much everything she has seen on the trip. I feel good that they are out there doing things, but Mrs. L is starting to embarrass them. There is a conversational thread that centers on the settlement of various ethnic groups in Arizona where Mrs. L lives. She notes that “Basques have settled there” and the Mississippi people think she is talking about “bass.” It would have been funny if it hadn’t been so cruel, particularly when she asks the woman if she ever reads.
We can’t get to Minneapolis fast enough. Mrs. Landingham is getting off there. If not, I’m throwing her off.
Hello SpongeBob
I spoke with Mary while waiting in Havre. She is doing good and following my progress back across the country on her map. She took time this morning to view all of the photos and video I left on her computer. She thinks the videos are great. I told her I plan to edit them together when I get home. Perhaps it will be a PBS documentary.
Good news and Bad News
The announcement was just made that Mr. Amtrak Mechanic has successfully fixed the leak and we will soon be on our way; emphasis “soon.” The announcer says something about having trouble starting the same engine. I joke that we may have to all get out and push. There is something about things coming in threes and this is the third things.
The bad news – we’re now one hour late.
The bad news – we’re now one hour late.
Mrs. Landingham Strikes Again
I told you earlier about the old biddy who I had breakfast with and how she liked to tell tales about her trying experiences riding the rails. Well about an hour ago we arrived in Havre, MT a little ahead of schedule. I was in the dining car enjoying the conversation with three seniors, two of whom are retired teachers, and one that could be Jimmy Carter’s twin, when the train arrived in Havre. I noted that we were schedule to arrive around 1:15 and would have a half hour here at this coaling station.
When I noticed the freight train to our left leaving in our direction about 10 minutes before we were scheduled to leave, I remarked that I hoped we didn’t get behind him. Round of laughs. But when the time for our departure came and went, my antenna went up.
I heard the ominous announcement as I was heading back to my sleeper car. Apparently we have sprung a leak somewhere in the fuel system and have to wait for repairs. Carl our able attendant indicated it was supposed to be a half hour and now it’s up to an hour. That was a half hour ago and we are still gracing Havre with our presence. I probed Carl for more information with carefully scripted questions to get a sense of how serious this all might be. He made some comment about cars, planes and buses. I hope he is kidding.
As I reenter the sleeper, I see Mrs. Landingham heading for the shower.
When I noticed the freight train to our left leaving in our direction about 10 minutes before we were scheduled to leave, I remarked that I hoped we didn’t get behind him. Round of laughs. But when the time for our departure came and went, my antenna went up.
I heard the ominous announcement as I was heading back to my sleeper car. Apparently we have sprung a leak somewhere in the fuel system and have to wait for repairs. Carl our able attendant indicated it was supposed to be a half hour and now it’s up to an hour. That was a half hour ago and we are still gracing Havre with our presence. I probed Carl for more information with carefully scripted questions to get a sense of how serious this all might be. He made some comment about cars, planes and buses. I hope he is kidding.
As I reenter the sleeper, I see Mrs. Landingham heading for the shower.
Glacier
There are not enough superlatives to describe the magnitude of Glacier National Park. I’ll spare you the travelogue description but just say that waking up and eating breakfast on the Empire Builder in the Flathead region is something everyone must do at least once.
It is clearer today than last Thursday when we came west through here. I am on the same side of the train so I am seeing the same terrain, yet it looks completely different. Presently, we are between Essex and East Glacier and still climbing. A stark brown ridge is to the west gathering the direct angle of the morning sun and above. The contrail of an eastbound jet is visible in contrast to the deep blue sky.
Early this morning I woke when the train made an extended stop in Libby, MT. It was 5:30 MT – 4:30 Pacific Time - and the bright sky was already starting to fill the sleeper. We appear to be exactly on time. I felt the train pull in and stop in Spokane sometime past 1:00 am. When the power was turned off to hook us up to the Seattle train, the sudden quiet lulled me to sleep. So, I am operating on only about four hours of sleep and they were not my “beauty sleep.”
It always takes me a night or so to get used to a new bed, and despite the fact that I haven’t lost my Amtrak Legs, I did not find sleep easy to come by.
The most exciting thing to happen today – so far – was the ride through what I believe is the Flathead Tunnel. For a few moments I thought we were accidentally transported to the NYC Subway tracks. I climbed to the upper deck to get my morning java and decided to occupy my rear window perch for a few minutes while I sucked down the warm juice. I had just arrived on station when the lights went out. I thought it was a bit odd when I suddenly saw a lighted sign with the number 19 on it and the evidence of a ventilation tunnel and what appeared to be an emergency exit. These numbered signs continued to appear once every 50 seconds. So, by the time we got to sign number 16, I knew this was going to be a long time under the ground. Indeed this was a two-cupper as I was able to return to the coffee pot and suck down a second cup, all the while underground. In all we were probably only in the tunnel for about 15 minutes though it seems a lot longer. I can only imagine the confusion of the passengers who awaken at that time, looking out and seeing the stark blackness.
Despite the early hour, I decide it is a good idea to get to the dining car now. You will recall that the leg from Portland to Spokane is sans dining car, so I took this opportunity to check out the new chow house.
Fortunately, there are not too many early diners and I join two people. The first is a woman who I shall call Mrs. Landingham, because she reminds me of the character on The West Wing who played the President’s secretary. She has a bit of that matter-of-fact style of personality and the same pixie haircut. She boarded in Pasco last night and looks like she will be a handful. When she boarded, she made sure Carl the attendant knew she was to have an extra blanket in her sleeper. I also heard her tell him that she wanted her feet facing the front of the train in case we crashed. After she boarded, the head conductor came down to tell Carl the same thing. Mrs. Landingham has apparently been rather vocal about her needs.
Our other breakfast guest was a Coastie on his way from Seattle to Camp Lejeune, NC. I thought by his appearance that he was a Marine as he was sporting a cap that said Port Townsend covering his tight crew cut. But he corrected me and explained he was on his way to Lejeune for advanced “tactical boat driving.” Sounds like fun.
Coastie is riding in coach and talked about how he will be making this trip again in a few months with the rest of his family. I am shocked to learn he has four kids; he looks about 20 years old; must be all that fresh air.
Mrs. L had to have the last word in most of the conversation; I think I will be avoiding her. She did indicate that she travels frequently by Amtrak and proceeded to detail the various mishaps she’s had traveling by train. Now, I really want to stay away from her.
Just before 10:00 am we are in East Glacier and about to leave the park. The Lodge from this perspective is quite beautiful and I’m thinking this might be a great place for a vacation. Perhaps we should arrange for a SpongeBob and Patrick reunion here?
With my ears now popping we have passed Browning and are again descending to the high plains. Carl has just announced that there will be a wine and cheese tasting event at 3:00 pm and we need to sign up. I suspect the family of Amish/Mennonites that are in the sleeper across the aisle from me will take a pass on the wine. I only hope Mrs. L does too.
It is clearer today than last Thursday when we came west through here. I am on the same side of the train so I am seeing the same terrain, yet it looks completely different. Presently, we are between Essex and East Glacier and still climbing. A stark brown ridge is to the west gathering the direct angle of the morning sun and above. The contrail of an eastbound jet is visible in contrast to the deep blue sky.
Early this morning I woke when the train made an extended stop in Libby, MT. It was 5:30 MT – 4:30 Pacific Time - and the bright sky was already starting to fill the sleeper. We appear to be exactly on time. I felt the train pull in and stop in Spokane sometime past 1:00 am. When the power was turned off to hook us up to the Seattle train, the sudden quiet lulled me to sleep. So, I am operating on only about four hours of sleep and they were not my “beauty sleep.”
It always takes me a night or so to get used to a new bed, and despite the fact that I haven’t lost my Amtrak Legs, I did not find sleep easy to come by.
The most exciting thing to happen today – so far – was the ride through what I believe is the Flathead Tunnel. For a few moments I thought we were accidentally transported to the NYC Subway tracks. I climbed to the upper deck to get my morning java and decided to occupy my rear window perch for a few minutes while I sucked down the warm juice. I had just arrived on station when the lights went out. I thought it was a bit odd when I suddenly saw a lighted sign with the number 19 on it and the evidence of a ventilation tunnel and what appeared to be an emergency exit. These numbered signs continued to appear once every 50 seconds. So, by the time we got to sign number 16, I knew this was going to be a long time under the ground. Indeed this was a two-cupper as I was able to return to the coffee pot and suck down a second cup, all the while underground. In all we were probably only in the tunnel for about 15 minutes though it seems a lot longer. I can only imagine the confusion of the passengers who awaken at that time, looking out and seeing the stark blackness.
Despite the early hour, I decide it is a good idea to get to the dining car now. You will recall that the leg from Portland to Spokane is sans dining car, so I took this opportunity to check out the new chow house.
Fortunately, there are not too many early diners and I join two people. The first is a woman who I shall call Mrs. Landingham, because she reminds me of the character on The West Wing who played the President’s secretary. She has a bit of that matter-of-fact style of personality and the same pixie haircut. She boarded in Pasco last night and looks like she will be a handful. When she boarded, she made sure Carl the attendant knew she was to have an extra blanket in her sleeper. I also heard her tell him that she wanted her feet facing the front of the train in case we crashed. After she boarded, the head conductor came down to tell Carl the same thing. Mrs. Landingham has apparently been rather vocal about her needs.
Our other breakfast guest was a Coastie on his way from Seattle to Camp Lejeune, NC. I thought by his appearance that he was a Marine as he was sporting a cap that said Port Townsend covering his tight crew cut. But he corrected me and explained he was on his way to Lejeune for advanced “tactical boat driving.” Sounds like fun.
Coastie is riding in coach and talked about how he will be making this trip again in a few months with the rest of his family. I am shocked to learn he has four kids; he looks about 20 years old; must be all that fresh air.
Mrs. L had to have the last word in most of the conversation; I think I will be avoiding her. She did indicate that she travels frequently by Amtrak and proceeded to detail the various mishaps she’s had traveling by train. Now, I really want to stay away from her.
Just before 10:00 am we are in East Glacier and about to leave the park. The Lodge from this perspective is quite beautiful and I’m thinking this might be a great place for a vacation. Perhaps we should arrange for a SpongeBob and Patrick reunion here?
With my ears now popping we have passed Browning and are again descending to the high plains. Carl has just announced that there will be a wine and cheese tasting event at 3:00 pm and we need to sign up. I suspect the family of Amish/Mennonites that are in the sleeper across the aisle from me will take a pass on the wine. I only hope Mrs. L does too.
Passing Pasco
The Portland branch of the Empire Builder is rather empty. I chose this date to start my return to Maine based upon an expectation that not many people would want to travel on the 4th of July – I am apparently correct in my assumption.
After dinner, an interesting and delicious cold salad plate with slices of roast beef and a teriyaki glaze, complimented with a small fruit salad, biscuit and chocolate torte, I make my way to the observation lounge for more viewing. There are some beautiful scenes including a cascade (Bridal Veil?) across on the Oregon side of the river, but I can’t get the camera clicked fast enough to capture the beauty.
As was the case on our inbound trip, the change of vegetation color is dramatic. But unlike that trip, the river and the banks are now filled with people. On many of the small islands that appear to be nothing more than sand banks and eddies, dozens of boats have landed and their occupants taken over the beach to bath in the water and sun. There are many large fishing boats and dozens of personal watercraft buzzing around the river.
Along the shore line I notice numbers of trucks with campers that have found that special place for a 4th of July cookout and some fishing. Some of these camping spots are nothing more than a small grassy knoll between the rails and the water; I wonder how they found this spot and more importantly how they managed to get their vehicles perched on these narrow points of land.
With time, the sun gets lower and now moves from over our right shoulder to over our left. We have started to make the broad turn following the river as she moves north and then teases us briefly with a short western jog. I take my last look at Oregon and watch as the orange sky turns to many shades of purple and red. I calculate our position as just outside of Pasco, the place where five days ago we crossed the Columbia for the first time. I look to the south west and think of my sister now about 200 miles away.
The light on the horizon is fading fast as we make our way across the bridge into Pasco. The conductor had announced when we boarded that we might be able to see some fireworks in Pasco, but it is still not quite dark enough.
Pasco is one of the smokers’ stops so I take the opportunity to get out and stretch my legs. The air is still very hot, but feels good as I watch a small army of passengers head toward the train. The Pasco station is one of the newer ones on the line, but it sits near a neighborhood with some tired little houses and trailers. As we sit in the station taking on our new passengers, a few bottle rockets suddenly pop-up from that neighborhood. I think that these be the only fireworks I will see this 4th.
Within minutes of leaving Pasco we are back to dry open prairie land. I can make out the occasional farmhouse on the ridge off in the distance, the silhouette of an irrigation tower off to the north. We have turned north east and heading for high country.
After dinner, an interesting and delicious cold salad plate with slices of roast beef and a teriyaki glaze, complimented with a small fruit salad, biscuit and chocolate torte, I make my way to the observation lounge for more viewing. There are some beautiful scenes including a cascade (Bridal Veil?) across on the Oregon side of the river, but I can’t get the camera clicked fast enough to capture the beauty.
As was the case on our inbound trip, the change of vegetation color is dramatic. But unlike that trip, the river and the banks are now filled with people. On many of the small islands that appear to be nothing more than sand banks and eddies, dozens of boats have landed and their occupants taken over the beach to bath in the water and sun. There are many large fishing boats and dozens of personal watercraft buzzing around the river.
Along the shore line I notice numbers of trucks with campers that have found that special place for a 4th of July cookout and some fishing. Some of these camping spots are nothing more than a small grassy knoll between the rails and the water; I wonder how they found this spot and more importantly how they managed to get their vehicles perched on these narrow points of land.
With time, the sun gets lower and now moves from over our right shoulder to over our left. We have started to make the broad turn following the river as she moves north and then teases us briefly with a short western jog. I take my last look at Oregon and watch as the orange sky turns to many shades of purple and red. I calculate our position as just outside of Pasco, the place where five days ago we crossed the Columbia for the first time. I look to the south west and think of my sister now about 200 miles away.
The light on the horizon is fading fast as we make our way across the bridge into Pasco. The conductor had announced when we boarded that we might be able to see some fireworks in Pasco, but it is still not quite dark enough.
Pasco is one of the smokers’ stops so I take the opportunity to get out and stretch my legs. The air is still very hot, but feels good as I watch a small army of passengers head toward the train. The Pasco station is one of the newer ones on the line, but it sits near a neighborhood with some tired little houses and trailers. As we sit in the station taking on our new passengers, a few bottle rockets suddenly pop-up from that neighborhood. I think that these be the only fireworks I will see this 4th.
Within minutes of leaving Pasco we are back to dry open prairie land. I can make out the occasional farmhouse on the ridge off in the distance, the silhouette of an irrigation tower off to the north. We have turned north east and heading for high country.
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