Hello! My long-awaited and much-anticipated trip report is here (right? Remember me? ...no? Oh well.)
I've been back for a few days, and just now gathering my wits and my energy to write a trip report of my lovely trip. I can't wait to tell you all about it. And I won't!
My best friend lives in Orange County, California. She told me it's a place called "Aliso Viejo", which I believe is Spanish for "Kinda near L.A." I haven't been out to visit her since my last train trip in 2010, so I decided that having completed my first year of teaching, and having moved to a small town, sounded like great reasons to drag myself all over the country and be surrounded by tall buildings and mountains and things. So I booked my trip. I would be gone for nine days total, six of which would be on the train and three of which would be with my friend. Most of my friends thought I was nuts, but they should've figured that out by now.
So anyway! On to the actual report of the trip. I anxiously obsessed over the track-a-train feature from my parents home in Lincoln (they were taking me to the station that night) and, well, that's about all I did until around 12:30, when I told my parents to just take me to the station, already. The train was running about 2 hours behind, but I didn't want my parents staying up until all hours of the night. I waited at the station and listened to the trucker next to me regale me with unwanted stories of his life growing up in Wisconsin, his career on the snowmobile racing circuit, and how he joined the "train mile high club" the last time he was on the Zephyr. Charming.
Thankfully, I also gleaned from his endless prattle that he was taking the 6 to Chicago and was overzealously early to the station. This was welcome news, as I was just imagining him sitting next to me in coach for the next two days.
Finally, the #5 squealed in to the station around 1:45, and I was overjoyed to find myself in a left-side window seat with no seatmate, just as I had wanted. I thenwent immediately to sleep stared excitedly out the window at the dark for two hours and drifted off around 4.
Right around the crack of 5:30, I decided that 1.5 hours of sleep was really all God intended humans to get, and I betook myself to the SSL with a fruit and yogurt parfait I had packed, and my tiny travel silverware.
Approximately 700 spoonfuls later, I was done with my breakfast and still the sun hadn't risen. So I sat back and read, gently serenaded by the snores of the lounge lizards, until Denver. Here I was joined by an older man who was an avid photographer. We talked art and photography (as an art teacher, we had a lot of common ground) while we climbed into the Rocky mountains. I took many pictures, and then went back and deleted about half. Pictures of mountains are never as wonderful as the real thing, and plus my phone was running out of space. Here's one rather nice one though:
The Colorado river was flooding in many places, but we still saw plenty of boaters and rafters out and about. I was disappointed that not a single one of them took the initiative to moon the train. This is what is becoming of today's youth. Thanks, Obama!
I headed back to my seat a couple of hours into the morning to break open my soft-sided cooler. Inside I had packed laughing cow cheese wedges, hummus, pita crackers, grapes, cauliflower, and other things to get me through until Sacramento (no dining car for me, thanks! Not while I'm in coach!) I ate and then napped for a while, glad that I hadn't acquired a seat partner in Denver.
After Grand Junction I was excited at the prospect of seeing Ruby Canyon in the daylight, since my last train had run too late to see it. I planted myself back in the SSL and was rewarded with red walls and orange afternoon light.
Around Green River my body reminded me that 3-ish hours of sleep was in fact NOT enough, and I turned in.
I awoke bright and early the next day again, not wanting to miss a moment if I didn't have to. Nevada whizzed by outside the window, and I sat and marveled at all that land completely bare of crops, just sitting around out there with no farmer to bother it.
Winnemucca came and went, as did Reno. I was enthralled by the Truckee river. I've never wanted to dip my feet in a body of water that badly in my life. It's the kind of river you only see on TV, on old '70s westerns, or in medication commercials with happy men up to their knees, fishing with their grandson while a narrator lists 45 side effects. "Consult your doctor if you get hives, shortness of breath, or x-ray vision..."
Arriving in quaint Truckee, we began to trundle our way up into the Sierras. I was delighted to find myself in the SSL beside a married couple, both of whom were anthropology professors who had traveled to many interesting places in their careers. We marveled at Donner Lake and listened to the man from the rail museum tell the history of the first transcontinental railroad.
As we crested the range, I went back to my seat for lunch and watched excitedly as we rolled toward Sacramento. I spotted my first palm tree and texted my friend about this momentous event. (Palm trees are such weird creatures. Like living artillery shells.)
We were running about 2 hours behind still, and got into Sacramento about 4. I was a little disappointed by this; I had wanted to see the railroad museum, but as it closed at 5 it seemed hardly worth it. Instead I hauled all my luggage to the Vagabond Inn hotel, where I showered, put my food in the fridge and ice packs in the freezer, and set out in search of food in Old Sacramento.
I told someone on the train about Old Sacramento, since they also had a layover there. They scoffed a bit and said something along the lines of, "Isn't that just kind of a touristy area?" I was undeterred. I like touristy areas (within reason).
Yeah. Old Sac was pretty touristy. There were about three candy shops too many. And two of those places where you can dress up like Miss Kitty and get an old timey picture taken. But the architecture was nice, and the river, and the old locomotives.
And I found a place that would sell me a giant slice of pizza and a big tall Pepsi, so Old Sacramento is good in my book.
After I had seen the sights and bought a bag of salt water taffy the size of an infant, I made my way back to my hotel room to bask in air conditioning and solitude. I had read mixed reviews of the Vagabond Inn but decided to book it anyway because of it's proximity to the train station. I personally had a great experience there. Yeah, when I checked in I had to wait about 20 minutes because they weren't done cleaning my room yet. But the room was clean and had recently been re-done to include a large flatscreen TV. My room was on the side of the building facing away from the freeway, which I think helped with noise (although being half deaf, night-time noise isn't ever a problem for me, so I'm not the best judge.)
Since I had to be up bright and early to catch the southbound Coast Starlight, I went to bed around 9:30.
(To be continued!)
I've been back for a few days, and just now gathering my wits and my energy to write a trip report of my lovely trip. I can't wait to tell you all about it. And I won't!
My best friend lives in Orange County, California. She told me it's a place called "Aliso Viejo", which I believe is Spanish for "Kinda near L.A." I haven't been out to visit her since my last train trip in 2010, so I decided that having completed my first year of teaching, and having moved to a small town, sounded like great reasons to drag myself all over the country and be surrounded by tall buildings and mountains and things. So I booked my trip. I would be gone for nine days total, six of which would be on the train and three of which would be with my friend. Most of my friends thought I was nuts, but they should've figured that out by now.
So anyway! On to the actual report of the trip. I anxiously obsessed over the track-a-train feature from my parents home in Lincoln (they were taking me to the station that night) and, well, that's about all I did until around 12:30, when I told my parents to just take me to the station, already. The train was running about 2 hours behind, but I didn't want my parents staying up until all hours of the night. I waited at the station and listened to the trucker next to me regale me with unwanted stories of his life growing up in Wisconsin, his career on the snowmobile racing circuit, and how he joined the "train mile high club" the last time he was on the Zephyr. Charming.
Thankfully, I also gleaned from his endless prattle that he was taking the 6 to Chicago and was overzealously early to the station. This was welcome news, as I was just imagining him sitting next to me in coach for the next two days.
Finally, the #5 squealed in to the station around 1:45, and I was overjoyed to find myself in a left-side window seat with no seatmate, just as I had wanted. I then
Right around the crack of 5:30, I decided that 1.5 hours of sleep was really all God intended humans to get, and I betook myself to the SSL with a fruit and yogurt parfait I had packed, and my tiny travel silverware.
Approximately 700 spoonfuls later, I was done with my breakfast and still the sun hadn't risen. So I sat back and read, gently serenaded by the snores of the lounge lizards, until Denver. Here I was joined by an older man who was an avid photographer. We talked art and photography (as an art teacher, we had a lot of common ground) while we climbed into the Rocky mountains. I took many pictures, and then went back and deleted about half. Pictures of mountains are never as wonderful as the real thing, and plus my phone was running out of space. Here's one rather nice one though:
The Colorado river was flooding in many places, but we still saw plenty of boaters and rafters out and about. I was disappointed that not a single one of them took the initiative to moon the train. This is what is becoming of today's youth. Thanks, Obama!
I headed back to my seat a couple of hours into the morning to break open my soft-sided cooler. Inside I had packed laughing cow cheese wedges, hummus, pita crackers, grapes, cauliflower, and other things to get me through until Sacramento (no dining car for me, thanks! Not while I'm in coach!) I ate and then napped for a while, glad that I hadn't acquired a seat partner in Denver.
After Grand Junction I was excited at the prospect of seeing Ruby Canyon in the daylight, since my last train had run too late to see it. I planted myself back in the SSL and was rewarded with red walls and orange afternoon light.
Around Green River my body reminded me that 3-ish hours of sleep was in fact NOT enough, and I turned in.
I awoke bright and early the next day again, not wanting to miss a moment if I didn't have to. Nevada whizzed by outside the window, and I sat and marveled at all that land completely bare of crops, just sitting around out there with no farmer to bother it.
Winnemucca came and went, as did Reno. I was enthralled by the Truckee river. I've never wanted to dip my feet in a body of water that badly in my life. It's the kind of river you only see on TV, on old '70s westerns, or in medication commercials with happy men up to their knees, fishing with their grandson while a narrator lists 45 side effects. "Consult your doctor if you get hives, shortness of breath, or x-ray vision..."
Arriving in quaint Truckee, we began to trundle our way up into the Sierras. I was delighted to find myself in the SSL beside a married couple, both of whom were anthropology professors who had traveled to many interesting places in their careers. We marveled at Donner Lake and listened to the man from the rail museum tell the history of the first transcontinental railroad.
As we crested the range, I went back to my seat for lunch and watched excitedly as we rolled toward Sacramento. I spotted my first palm tree and texted my friend about this momentous event. (Palm trees are such weird creatures. Like living artillery shells.)
We were running about 2 hours behind still, and got into Sacramento about 4. I was a little disappointed by this; I had wanted to see the railroad museum, but as it closed at 5 it seemed hardly worth it. Instead I hauled all my luggage to the Vagabond Inn hotel, where I showered, put my food in the fridge and ice packs in the freezer, and set out in search of food in Old Sacramento.
I told someone on the train about Old Sacramento, since they also had a layover there. They scoffed a bit and said something along the lines of, "Isn't that just kind of a touristy area?" I was undeterred. I like touristy areas (within reason).
Yeah. Old Sac was pretty touristy. There were about three candy shops too many. And two of those places where you can dress up like Miss Kitty and get an old timey picture taken. But the architecture was nice, and the river, and the old locomotives.
And I found a place that would sell me a giant slice of pizza and a big tall Pepsi, so Old Sacramento is good in my book.
After I had seen the sights and bought a bag of salt water taffy the size of an infant, I made my way back to my hotel room to bask in air conditioning and solitude. I had read mixed reviews of the Vagabond Inn but decided to book it anyway because of it's proximity to the train station. I personally had a great experience there. Yeah, when I checked in I had to wait about 20 minutes because they weren't done cleaning my room yet. But the room was clean and had recently been re-done to include a large flatscreen TV. My room was on the side of the building facing away from the freeway, which I think helped with noise (although being half deaf, night-time noise isn't ever a problem for me, so I'm not the best judge.)
Since I had to be up bright and early to catch the southbound Coast Starlight, I went to bed around 9:30.
(To be continued!)
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