The Train

Chicago Train Station



The Train

This is from one of the stops.




Views from the Train





Looking out the window, the countryside streams past. So much, so fast. Who can taste of the small towns, the people, the wind in the ear, the birds, the breeze waving the grass? All is compressed into the blur. Yet it too, is beautiful. The flowing panoramas: golden hills covered in wheat; small lakes ringed with reeds, ducks trailing v's rippling as they swim across the pond. Here one moment gone the next, leaving a continuum of flowing countryside.

Before leaving the tree filled lands, distant views were few. Trees lined the train corridor and viewing outside was a dizzying blur of green leaves, and branches barely glimpsed.

The train is a nice slower way of travel. The seats are comfortable even in coach class with lots of legroom, adjustable footrests, fold down tables, leg rests and reclining seats.

Sleep is impossible. I give up the notion accepting that fits of sleep will be the norm for the next 3 nights. instead, I explore the realms of night: searching out those positions and postures on the chair that yield a few moments rest before searching for the next; awakening to the vibrato of snores strangely comforting; listening to the person commenting about the difficulties of rest to the "sleeping" audience; feeling the sudden shifts of the train. All this from the drowsy, half- wake vantage of the desperately weary.

Should one feel anger, irritation. I choose acceptance and burrow in to the half comfort of life surrounding the dead of night as we all endeavor to a grab hold of a few moments rest.

We finally join the Rockies going over the same pass we so labored over 2 months ago. It seems a shallow and easy pass. We too quickly are on top then going down.

We see the Issac Walton Inn where we stayed for 2 nights waiting for the snow to leave from the pass. Guests come out and wave as we pass.

At Whitefish we are ahead of schedule. While at dinner in the dining car. I note the we have not moved for quite a while. We come to learn the engine needs rebooting. This sounds like there is a computer involved to my computer geeky ears. Must be Windows!!

Finally we move - an hour or so later - and we retire to the next round of sleeping as we can. Amazingly, I drift off to in-between sleep quickly.

Slam-Bang! Skreetch! Tshhhh! Burning metal smells; rapid deceleration. Stop. Hissing. Awake now; what just happened!? Lights go out. People moving through the aisles. We look around and at each other
wondering. Nothing happens. People are talking, supposing much. I keep silent not wanting to perhaps feed a panic with my worst case thoughts. I do fish out a bike light to see if we are at least on somewhat level ground and not on a train trestle over some canyon. It is flat outside. A conductor comes through telling us to stay in our seats in an excited, slightly panicky voice. No more news. After a couple of hours, we start moving again. I can stop worrying that some automated freight train will come barreling down on us because we aren't supposed to be on the track.

The next day we hear that we probably hit a big animal. No trace found.

After 4 days and 3 nights, we arrive in Seattle's King Station. We were to continue south on the Cascades train to Olympia, but as we are 3.5 hours late, we rendezvous with Alicia's parents here instead.

It is great to see them. We bid final fare well's to our new found train travel companions with some promise to perhaps see them in Portland in coming days. We now head to Westport, WA for rest and reunion.