ALL ABOARD!!!

 

I’m not sure whose idea the Rocky Mountain train ride was. Probably me, because I love trains. But I have to say Carolyn got right on board (pun intended) with the idea.

In our original conversations, we talked about taking the California Zephyr all the way from its origin in Chicago to its final destination in Emeryville, California. (Between Berkeley and Oakland.) But after some online research and conversations with people who had espied the landscape between Chi-town and Denver, we came to the conclusion that paying a premium to see hundreds of miles of farmland might not be that exciting. Sorghum anyone?

So, we set up a trip that involved a sleeper car from Denver and another from Emeryville to home in Vancouver. Rocky mountains, parts of Utah, Nevada, California and Oregon. Perfect, right?

        The flight was uneventful. My favorite four words to say after airline travel. Yes, the airport in Portland was an immense pain in the patootie. And yes, we had to huff and puff the length of Denver’s immense air terminal (It’s a mile high in Denver. Air is emaciated.) to find the A train to the Amtrak station, but still . . . uneventful. No hostile drunken passenger. No pilot announcement prefaced with “Oh, shit,” no clocking a delivery truck on the way to the terminal. Uneventful. Good thing, yes?

Union Station in downtown Denver is old, high-ceilinged immense and multi-dimensional. A wonder to behold. 

Along with the Amtrak counters and tracks,  there were half a dozen restaurants, an ice cream parlor, a coffee shop, pastry and candy stands, and a classy bar. Oh, and a fully stocked book store. 

                                                                                                 

Our thinking for spending the extra money on a deluxe accomodation. Twofold? We could get out of bed, shower, dress, throw our stuff in our bags and catch our train downstairs. Secondly. What the hell it's only money. Worth it? Without question. Hey, we got a free ice cream, coffee, and a drink thrown in. The rooms are lovely, service is attentive, and the food delectable. The Crawford had moved to near the top of the list of places we’ve stayed. Check out the painted ceiling.

                                                                              

You just don’t see that at your average Motel 6.                                                          

A quick kudo here. Carolyn found us carry-on size rolling bags 

at ReTails,  the Humane Society thrift store she volunteers at. 

The queen of space allotment, she cleverly packed everything we needed.

 Nice job, love of my life.

                                                                                               

The next morning, we boarded the train and were shown to our sleeper car by LaToya. The room was . . . it was incredibly . . . the room was . . . very small. 

It featured a couch that made into a double bed and a pull-down top bunk. It also included a combination toilet/shower that was . . . it was . . . 

imagine a large phone booth or a small closet. 

As we set out, we noticed a feathered train afficionado on a nearby siding. 

Have no fear, no gooses? geese? waterfowl were hurt on this journey.

The first night Carolyn gamely volunteered to take the top bunk. She clambered up the ladder and flailed around with the covers until she could approximate comfort. I could watch her from the lower bed using the floor-to-ceiling mirror. Comically, (although she was less than amused) her thrashing reminded me of the baby feathered things we watch on a webcam. Hopefully the link will work.

 The Royal Oaks Eagles                                                                                                                          

From our window and the ones in the restaurant and glass-roofed observation car we had front row seats for the most spectacular scenery America has to offer.

 

There were several short stops in mountain communities to disgorge and those riding on grab a snatch a batch of mountain air.

A warning. This trip is not optimal for the chronically claustrophobic. Not only because of the scaled back size of the loo/shower, but because of the railroad tunnels through the hearts of some mountains.

This baby was almost 7 miles along and took 15 minutes to pass through. I texted my sister Lana to share the experience and imagined I could hear her screaming from 1500 miles away.

So, we rode and snacked on the nuts and chips Carolyn packed among the changes of clothing. I'm convinced there should be a special trophy for creative luggage space usage. 

 We were staggered by the scope and variety of the geology we saw. Occasionally we'd gasp. Probably because of the high-altitude scrimpy oxygen supply. Oh, an in case you wondered there was still some snow in places. 

Snow pack in the Rockies this year was below normal. Seems like a pattern, doesn't it?

The second day wasn’t as scenic, but there were moments. Oooh! Ahhh!

 

We chugged into Emeryville  to be met and taken to dinner at a bayside seafood restaurant by John, an old friend from radio days and his lovely wife Dena. After dining and conversational catching up we boarded the northbound Coast Starlight and stuffed ourselves into another petite (another way of saying tiny) sleeper tank and set off for home.

That night, CJ elected to share the double bed instead of the upper bunk. A wise choice. And in my defense, I didn’t roll over and elbow her even once. In her defense she didn’t turn and knee me in the goolies either.

Compared to the Rockies the scenery in Northern California and the length of Central Oregon was pretty vanilla. Not to say there weren’t some memorable stretches. 

Our friend Merlene picked us up at the Vancouver terminal (which could fit inside the bar at Union Station in Denver) and ferried us to our place. There, we fell into the comfort and non-jostling of our bed. There’s no place like home, Toto, There’s no place like home.

The next day we retrieved our version of Toto

And resumed our regular routine. But as cramped and uncomfortable our train trip sometimes was, I know that I still long to hear the sound of the conductor outside my window bellowing “All abooooooard!!!”