SAC to CHI Train #6 (Part Three) 5 May
A Good Start
At Saturday awake time I discovered I was stationary near Provo. The sun was yet to appear, but there was some light in the sky.
I remembered that it was A-League Grand Final day in Oz, and checked to see if I could obtain a connection. I saw I had an email and guessed it might be from Niki.
My previous post detailed what it was all about, and why it gave me a great start to the day.
I checked my GPS and saw we were at 2257m and climbing. We came around a tight horseshoe bend snaking left, and I was able to look down and see the part of the track we had previously been on, well below us.
Shortly after, we came to a small flat section into which they had packed a number of sidings and cross-overs, presumably to help marshall traffic awaiting the descent or finishing the climb.
Just after Colton a small stream appeared to the left of the train, heading in our direction, as clear a sign as you’d ever have that we were now on the descent.
Breakfast, and Morning in the SSC
I met Jim and Gina at the breakfast table. They were from Sacramento and on their way to Colorado. I mentioned how much I enjoyed their city during my short stay there and we chatted for a while, although, because they were finishing as I joined them, our table-time was brief.
I caught up with Carol in the SSC and she told me she’d had a long career in the social work field, both as a practitioner and as a policy-maker. Our conversation covered a wide range of issues relating to social disadvantage, and what policy-settings might work to alleviate it.
We celebrated the pioneering work of Andrew Young, the progressive religious bodies, and their peers in Australia such as Charlie Perkins. We celebrated Gandhi for showing the way, and I mentioned those behind the Eureka Rebellion in my new home town of Ballarat whose protests led to universal (male) sufferage in Victoria in the 1860s.
Participating in a democracy is the best way to ensure that the democracy is strong. But any challenge to unearnt privilege has to have a political arm as well as a militant one. Neither succeeds without the other, we agreed. Privilege is never ceded without a fight.
Carol was concerned that Ken had not yet surfaced, so she went out in search. I can save your worries by skipping ahead an hour or so to let you know I saw them both in the dining car around midday, and Ken was in rude good health. Ken later told me he was just having a lie-in.
Once Carol had vacated her seat, Kevin occupied it. He had boarded as I was asleep at Salt Lake City. He worked in the ski industry, including as a Kasborer driver, shunting snow and grooming runs.
He was making his way to Ohio.
When he realised I was from Oz, he mentioned that he’d worked at Perisher, in NSW, and had lived in Jindabyn, a lovely ski town in the Snowy Mountains.
Justin was close by and then had two Kiwis, Robin and Keith, join him. They were from New Plymouth in EnZed’s North Island. They were retired and travelling.
The Colorado River and the First Offload
Glenwood Springs came into view and we started alongside the Colorado River rapids and recreation area. There were kayakers, rafters, cyclists, and walkers all in view, making the most of their beautiful surroundings and pleasant sunny weather. We started another climb at about 1800m, well above the altitude of the Oz ski-fields.
We were holding, in a siding, awaiting the arrival of the west-bound Zephyr, Train #5, but when it arrived, it pulled up alongside us. Again, I did not have my spy ears in, so was not aware until later that we had transferred a sick passenger for conveyance to medical attention back in Glenwood Springs.
Once we recommenced, we snaked along the river, with Highway 70 on the other bank for several kilometres, climbing steadily at 45kph, and soon beyond 1900m.
An Identification Mystery Solved
We had good commentry over the speaker system from one of the conductors. When he ceased his commentry and climbed up to the top level of the SSC, I button-holed him to ask about the loco numbers. I knew we were being pulled by loco #11 as lead, but I wasn’t sure about the second loco. I thought it was #187, but didn’t feel I could report this as fact until I had obtained corroboration from a reliable source.
I got confirmation from a highly reliable source in the form of the conductor, who checked his device, and so I can now safely report accordingly. I am now ready for a slot on Anderson Cooper 360.
Midday with a Long-Distance Trucker and a Pair of Eagles
I decided I should sample the mussels again, and headed for the diner. I was solo until joined by John of South Carolina. John was returning home to Raleigh after meeting up with a friend at Davis. His plan was to fly home from Chicago.
He had been a long-distance truck driver, so was happy to experience the train ride as a spectator. We swapped stories about trucking in our respective countries, and he told me of the travails of working in adult learning and moving between being a practitioner to a trainer.
I returned to my roomette to catch up with a few things and recharge my personal batteries. After a short while, the conductor alerted us that an eagles’ nest was approaching on the left, on the other side of the river, near Burns. As we neared, it became apparent it was occupied by an adult. Then, as if on cue, as we passed by, another adult glided in to land.
How lucky were we to have caught that!
Climbing past a Shooting Range
The Colorado gorge narrowed until the sides seemed to close in on us, the river, turbulent, below us. As the track curved left and right, through short tunnels here and there, we steadily gained altitude again, topping out on a plateau about 2250m.
It was spectacular country. Oh, to have a cab view! People would pay money to sit up front through this section, without doubt.
And then, a bit of an unsettling sight for an Aussie. Out my window to the left was an extensive shooting range, in active use as we passed. The firing positions to the targets were pointing away from the train, but within a cricket-pitch length only, with nothing between the train and the shooters.
There’s a military firing range by the side of the trainline I take between Ballarat and Melbourne, on the Ballarat side of Bacchus Marsh. It was likely designed for WWII purposes, and may now not even be in use. There’s a huge earth berm between the range and the train line, and the train line is sunken a little as it passes. It would not be possible for an errant shot to hit the train as a result.
It’s strange what causes discomfort across cultures. I suspect for most on the train it would scarcely even be noticed. But it was jarring for me.
I later found it unsettled another passenger, Connie, from California, who I met for the evening meal, so it wasn’t just me.
Fresh Air in Fraser Winter National Park?
We were soon in Ganby, then a short time later in Fraser Winter Park for a fresh air stop at the highest station on the line. I don’t often have the chance to breathe 2600m air, given Australia’s highest mountain - Mt Kozsciosko - tops out at a mere 2226m, and our skifields are no higher than 1600m.
It was warmer than I thought it’d be, and so I hung around outside until boarding call. I didn’t get a decent shot at experiencing 2600m air because of all the tobacco junkies puffing away and polluting the atmosphere. Why would you go to such a place you will not often experience, and fill your lungs with soot? It always beats me.
After that stop, we were still on the climb past a fly fisherman chancing his luck thigh-deep in the Fraser River near Tabernash, then it was announced we were approaching the Moffat Tunnel with its nine minute traverse.
To the Other Side and the Second Offload
The conductor requested that we not travel between cars through the tunnel, to minimise fumes intake, and there was a bit of a scramble by some to take their positions. We soon emerged, at 2817m, and immediately commenced the long descent into Denver.
For the first time in a long time, we were travelling in the direction of the rivers, not against them. We were over the divide.
Fore-advised by AU contributors, I remained in my left-side roomette for the run down into Denver. It was a spectacular descent, with wide arcs, and a beautiful and elegant series of left and right sweeps as we neared the level of the plains, the train almost doubling back on itself as it lost altitude over a short distance.
We reversed into Denver. My spy-ears told me that a passenger was going to be offloaded into the capable hands of the local constabulary for unbecoming behaviour - specifically that another passenger had said that the to-be-detrained passenger had threatened to kill her.
I reckon that would result in an interest from the local coppers, so I was given advance warning that there would be platform welcoming party before I jumped off to have a look at the remodelled Denver station.
I passed by the various parties’ discussion as I walked to the station building, and it was still going on as I returned.
Evening with Three Californians
My time for the evening meal began before the Denver departure time, so I was seated in a stationary train, subsequently joined by Russ and Connie, who boarded at Martinez, and were travelling to Omaha.
Simon joined our trio a short time later.
Simon was on a work trip from silicon valley to Ann Arbor via Chicago. He makes the trip regularly as he prefers not to fly. He works in cyber-security. He was unable to secure a roomette from Emeryville, but had nabbed one from Denver. His first night was a sleepless one in coach.
Russ and Connie had been burnt out of their Santa Rosa home in the fires of last year, and were still to rebuild. I mentioned my fire involvement with the Victorian State Government regional and rural public land fire-fighting organisation, and so I had an insight into their circumstances.
As in many catastrophic wildfires, they had lost everything, although had escaped with their lives, one vehicle, and their two dogs.
That’s a story, sadly, more common than we think, especially in fire-prone areas like mine in SE Australia, and those of the NW corner of the USA, and western Canada. Our specialist fire-fighters are often exchanged between us in our respective off-seasons for such catastrophic events, and Connie remembered she’d heard of an Aussie contingent at the Santa Rosa fires.
I’d been engaged during our fire season as an additional resource in the Victorian State Emergency Coordination Centre for a number of those extended fire operations over the years. Many departmental employees whose normal jobs were elsewhere, like mkne, were rostered on to assist when there was a big fire on. You never once forget there are lives at stake, and the consequences of a badly-judged strategy can be deadly, to the public and to fire-fighters.
We toasted our good fortunes that we had survived, even although possessions had been lost.
It was then time to put an end to another day, to fall asleep in one state and wake up in another - something I’ve often done in a figurative sense, but now rejoice in the fact that I am currently doing it in a geographic sense as well.
