Written live, posted much later. So yeah, it's not Wednesday right now.
I think today might be Wednesday. I did not sleep well last night, thus firing on a few cylinders short of a Prius with bad batteries. The drop down bed was comfortable, the temperature was not too hot or too cold. Pillow was just right. None of that helped. I don't remember this from last time, but I felt like I was about to roll out of bed and fall six feet to the floor. There is a strap/webbing system in place to prevent that, but confidence in safety measures doesn't make you feel less apprehensive. Also, how many people end up hanging upside down and sideways from their bed because they rolled out and got caught by the safety straps?
Once I got to sleep I kept waking up. I would get right back to sleep, but that doesn't help. Although I would look at the clock and think "oh good, I have two hours to sleep yet!" I do remember hearing the kid in the roomette depart at Indianapolis in the middle of the night. So an interrupted sleep, to be sure.
Also, I snore. Or I used to. Or sometimes still do, ask my wife. When I was in boot camp, other recruits commented on my snoring - from the other end of the squad bay. When we went to the field, I would be constantly woken up by the fire watch. Everyone takes turns as fire watch making sure no fires happen or we don't get attacked. But in the field the additional task of keeping the unit from alerting the enemy - thus waking up anyone who is snoring. The theory is that they'd go back to sleep and not snore. Not so much for me. And finally, in language school I had neighbors who commented on my snoring - and the walls were thick cinder block impenetrable walls. So yeah, I snore.
But now I have a CPAP, which is a machine where you wear a mask and it creates just the right pressure while you breath so the flappy bits of your throat don't do their flappy snoring noise. It's quite effective, and I can't sleep well at all without one. Which means I get to pack it when I travel. As long as we're going way off the rails on the story.. I actually have an older machine I use for travel. It's a bit smaller, light, uncomplicated. And now the mask seal is broken. No problem, I'll swap out a new one. Nope. I have fifteen extra masks for both machines but none would solve the problem. So I packed my "good" daily machine. Turns out that was good, as the power cord is massively long, much longer than the "travel" machine. This came into play when I decided where to plug it in. Rather, which of the two power outlets in the corner by the mirror do I want to use? Of course it's diagonally opposite of the location of my head when I sleep on the train. Thus the long cord. The other problem is that there are no shelves up there. There's a little pleather bag you can put your glasses and phone in, but it's no bigger than a shoe. So where to set up the machine? It's about the size of a small tackle box, so I turned it into my snuggle bunny. Right next to me in the very narrow (but long enough for a tall person!) bed. So trying to avoid sleeping on it and overheating it or something made the whole rolling thing even worse.
All in all it worked out logistically, I just didn't sleep well. There was a time change in there somewhere, so I lost an hour too.
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| Random: Amtrak "personal tissue product" is thin enough to read fine print through it. |
Breakfast was coming at eight, so I had an alarm set early enough that I'd be up and dressed and ready to talk to a stranger. As usual, I woke up before it, but not long enough to get back to sleep. So I looked out the window. It was a bit gray, and very flat. Not flat like Iowa, where it's fields and you can see for miles and miles. This was an insinuated flat. There were trees on the horizon, farms and roads, but something about it all made sure you knew you were in Indiana.
Breakfast came and there I was, appearing chipper and happy to speak to a stranger. Standard breakfast sandwich and coffee, etc. No peaches, but they would have been cut horizontally. As I used one creamer and had one left over, I noticed it said "made with real cows milk." I'm not going to go down the road of wondering what other animals produce milk, etc. (Yeah, I get it, goats. But you know what I mean.) And it made me think about the percentage of animal product that gets thrown away. I'm guessing it's not a low percentage.
We finally started to see hills. Growing to be mountains before long. I got to see a town or two, including a road that went 45 degrees up one of the taller hills. And when I say 45 degrees I'm guessing, but I'm guessing low. It was like a cartoon. I can't imagine getting up or down that in anything but the toughest of vehicles. Heck, coming down would be an exercise in control of chaos. You brake, you slide. I thought about that for a while. And now I want to drive up that road -- on my scooter.
The scenery got more and more spectacular. The only hitch was the fact that I wasn't on that side of the train. I had a view of the scenery from about 50 feet, and it was either greenery rushing by..
or rock outcroppings rushing by..
Or a combination of greenery and rock outcroppings rushing by. I tried to make the best of it and there were a fair amount of interesting things to see. There's a particular plant they have that I'd like to look up because it's funny looking. There are railroad ties piled at regular intervals. Sometimes we'd cross a road. One of the things I wanted to see on this trip was the New River Gorge Bridge. It's billed as one of the highlights on this route. And I've played a video game in which you're in a post-nuclear Appalachia and that bridge is in the game. So I'm sure I killed more than a few zombies on and from that bridge. But today I was looking at railside shrubbery. So I went to the vestibule between cars, where there is a prominent and very clear sign saying "no standing in the vestibule" but I did anyway, because I'm a bad-ass. (Unless someone had come along, in which case I would have been out of there like lightning!)
I did get to see the bridge from the correct side of the train, but it was just a bridge way up high. Now I have to crack that video game open and compare the two...
Eventually we got to a bridge over the river and the tables were turned.
The couple across the way who had the great view so far and squandered it doing crosswords were now looking at a wall of green or rock. I could see the river, trees, hills, birds, everything! We love watching raptors at home, and I'm well versed in Bald Eagles and even Golden Eagles, but a little less confident on hawks and such. But they had very large brown eagle like/hawk like creatures that I just couldn't identify. They even flew in groups! Will have to look that up for sure.
I got some video, mostly of things rushing by. Photos from a moving train through a double pane window with the sun shining are another matter completely. I went for the volume method and hope there are some decent shots in there. The very best way to see something interesting is to put the camera away. And as soon as you take it out, you're going to go into a tunnel. Many of the more interesting homesteads are isolated, so you don't know they're coming until you see them. As I was typing this, we suddenly came upon a town that had some pretty crazy homes and storefronts, but just getting the camera turned on made me miss it. At least I saw it, I guess. Though I am likely to forget it within 15 minutes.
When the river was at it's most exciting, and the hills were nicely pronounced, it seemed like it turned into vacationland. So many campgrounds and places were people had parked their RVs semi-permanently, and on the maps I was seeing summer camp after summer camp slide by. One store that looked at first glance to be a farmer's supply shop turned out to be an "Outfitter" that catered to those just passing through. And so many restaurants and coffee shops.
As time passed, we got out of the busier areas where towns have a dozen or more streets, and moved into what my father used to call the "Wild and the Wooly." I never really understood what that meant, but it does capture the situation quite well. Forests, gravel roads, few towns or houses, etc. Remote. I would see gravel roads that I couldn't imagine two cars passing on. They also didn't do bridges for those roads. When it came to a brook or creek, the road just went right through it and if the water was too high or you didn't have a vehicle that could splash through, you were out of luck.
Homes
There was a good variety of homes and home types. Some were really large and fancy with the driveway that loops past the front door. Others were simple, neat farmhouses.
And there were trailer homes. I think I may have more respect for them now. I thought of them as trashy and dilapidated. Unkempt and harboring at least one vehicle with no wheels up on blocks. But down here where winter wasn't created to kill you and tornadoes don't hang out in river valleys, a trailer home seems fairly efficient. I would see great collections of them, neat and pretty with a nice modern car parked in a proper driveway. Sometimes they would be a bit weather stained, but they still looked like they were kept up fairly well. This is not to say there weren't some solid cliché makers. Imagine the worst, and there you have it. It did make me think though - what do people from down south look for up in the northern states? We associate large drunk people in lawn chairs in front of crappy trailer homes with the cartoon version of the south. But what do they think of us northerners? I'm guessing they're looking for the flap hatted buffalo check shirt wearing "dontcha know" fellow ice fishing - maybe even in summer, somehow.
Is there a special kind of grass they have down here that never grows long? Or is everyone just that conscientious about mowing their entire property lawns short?
I saw more than a few tent encampments that looked like a collection of things over many years. Granted, they don't have the worst winters, but it's still heartbreaking to think people are calling tents their homes.
I have to take a break, as this land ship has found a storm at sea.
Towns
Passing through the towns on a rail route is fascinating. The bigger cities are pretty much what you'd expect. Warehouses and other industrial facilities right by the tracks and train yards. Sometimes you're behind a strip mall, and other times you may even be near residential neighborhoods. While you may assume those neighborhoods aren't going to be the best because there is a train in their backyard, there are plenty of times where the houses look very nice, almost expensive. I think it's related to the concept of "location, location, location" in that some cities are crowded enough that if you want something nice, but affordable, you may have to hear trains 24x7. It's a tradeoff.
Of course, there's also the rusty underbelly of America living next to tracks. The house with the barrels in the backyard. Trailer homes. Abandoned buildings. Those are fun to look at and see the graffiti, try and imagine how to get into them, and wonder how many people live and/or do drugs in there.
Tangent: I have three standing offers to my kids on road trips. Of course, now that they're older and we don't do as many (any?) family trips like that anymore, I don't think I'm going to have to pay out. The first offer is for a moose. As someone from a state that has a moose or two in it, I've always wanted to see one. (I also feel I should see an actual tornado at some point but that's a bit more dangerous.) So the offer is that if someone sees a moose, alerts me to it, and I get to see the moose, I will give them one hundred dollars. Pretty confident it was going to happen. And it hasn't so far. I think at one point I had the requirement that not only did I have to be able to see it, but I might have needed to take a picture of it. Negotiable if it happens. The second offer is ridiculous. I love Capybaras, they fascinate me and they're kinda cool looking. Also, they're the only land bases mammal that goes *to* water when in danger. So the offer was similar to the moose with a few specific points. They see it, alert me to it, I see it, I think I did require a picture on this one, and.. it has to be a wild Capybara. Not in a zoo or cage or on a farm or something. Since they're native to South America and wouldn't survive our winters, it's a pretty tall order. But when (optimism) it happens, the reward is a stunning one thousand dollars! Since it'll never happen. The third offer comes from going to and from family land along a highway with a railroad parallel to it. I had seen a "Thumbs Up" (David Choe series about hobo travel in the modern age) episode in which he and his cousin hopped trains from Tijuana to Canada. They carried a toy drum set and played in amusing situations. You can find it on Youtube, used to be on Netflix I think. Fascinating to watch them infiltrate train yards, get on trains, ride under the end of hopper cars and so on. It occurred to me I'd never seen a hobo, or anyone riding the rails like that. So another one hundred dollar bounty for calling out someone illegally riding a train. Honestly that was the one reward I had some hope of paying. Never happened.
So I was watching for hobos in the train yards, no luck.
As we got deeper in the hills, the towns changed a bit. I'm used to driving through the Midwest. If you happen to actually go through a small town (and not be routed past it by an interstate) you generally end up going down the main street. It always feels a bit sad to cover the two blocks of "downtown" and see all of the old storefronts. You can imagine the different shops back in the day, and how this was the heart of it all. This is where people came to shop, to socialize, to be among other people and not just their family or farmhands on the farm.
Now they're either abandoned storefronts, turned into residences somehow, or holding strange and unique boutiques or touristy shops. And of course at least one obligatory bar. It's not just that the towns have changed, but it's such a stark highlight of how much the towns have become less the center of the world. Now if the remaining few residents need clothes, food, or anything else, they drive for 20 miles and end up in the regional "bigger" town with a Walmart or other big box store. I understand why and all that, but it's still a bit sad. It's one of the few times I yearn for the past when "life was simpler" or some noise like that.
It's different in the hills or mountains. And even on the East Coast to some extent. In a little remote Appalachian town, there are no straight roads that can get you to a big box store in less than half an hour. They have trouble expanding the footprint of the town because of the geography, and as a result some of that "old" business remains in their downtowns. They're a bit less abandoned feeling, and while they have their fair share of the changing society we live in, it seemed refreshing to me to see those buildings, some of which are quite old and beautiful, used well and productively. It's not to say there aren't towns that have become tourist zones. The storefronts now contain businesses like expensive coffee shops, antique stores, fancy restaurants, and anything else a visitor might want to spend their time and money.
You'll occasionally see a chain business mixed in, but it's not common. It's jarring to see unique local businesses with a Panera mixed in. Or worse, a McDonalds or a Dollar General store. Of course all of this is based on my extensive research and experience in these towns. Spending time looking up information and visiting historical societies to get a full understanding of the changes in society. Oh wait, no, it's all based on a dozen or so hours looking out a window at towns by train tracks. So yes, I do understand my own limitations and the fact that I'm making more assumptions than a person judging soccer moms at a suburban mall. See refund policy previously stated.
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| Coal card and McDonalds. Contrast. |
How many undiscovered buried bodies in shallow graves by train tracks have I passed on this trip?
Lunch was pasta and meatballs. I ordered a Coke but got an Orange Juice. That was fine, I'm sure I could use the vitamins instead of the equivalent of 12 sugar cubes and snorting a line of caffeine that you get in a cola. Also, I just saw it as further proof I was on a land ship, and that this was one ocean voyage where scurvy was not going to be a problem. I got a brownie but saved it for later, though it's still in my backpack and likely will be until it's a ball of crumbs in its plastic wrapper.
One of the desserts they offered was something called a buttercake. The attendant in my car talked me into trying one and I'm glad she did. Even if it's just to know not to eat one again. It was very delicious, I will admit. But it lived up to it's name. Each bite was like biting into a stick of butter dipped in powdered sugar. In the middle was a pudding or custard like substance that was more of a liquid form of the cake portion, only sweeter. Somehow. I could only take two bites at a time before putting it away for later, as I could feel my arteries snapping shut with each swallow. It was absolutely the sweetest and densest and richest thing I've ever eaten. Ever. I'll never have one again, but you should.
Eating helped the exhaustion a bit, even if there was no caffeine.
I think we were a bit behind schedule at that point, as during lunch the train sped up quite a bit. It was only 60 miles per hour sometimes more, but it made managing a meal on a tony table a challenge. And as we got faster, the gently swaying turned into more of a tossing and turning with the occasional scary jolt mixed in like we were being punished for something. I just kept reminding myself of how few train wrecks we hear about. We would pass through a tunnel (so dark!) or a train going in the other direction and it would be surprising, but over very quickly.
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| The tank car people! |
As the mountains faded and we rolled through the foothills, the scenery felt somewhat repetitive, so I took to writing. Again, being on a train makes my fingers itch for a keyboard. I would look out and see farms, or white fences containing horses or cows. It was all very pretty but again, not too unique.
I was watching our arrival estimate and texting my daughter to coordinating a ride from the station. Things were looking good, maybe even a bit ahead of schedule. I was getting very ready to get off the train. We were due late enough I had dinner on the train. That's the third meal in a day. Too many meals, too much food. But it was a glazed salmon with rice and stir fried vegetables. It was all good. There was even baby corn!
As I'm feeling more and more like this trip is coming to an end, the train stopped. Trains stop often for other trains or waiting for clear tracks or whatever. But the moment we stopped this time it felt much, much more.. stopped. Soon an announcement was coming on that said we had a bit of a delay and they'll update us with more info. The conductor sounded tired and maybe frustrated. And so there we sat. After 20 minutes of wondering, the announcement came on that there was only one track, and we had to wait for two other trains to come down and pass us on the wait to the maintenance yard. And they were running a bit late. Also, we were told that once we started up again, we would be speed limited to 25 mph due to construction on the tracks. Which was also likely the reason for the single track. We were not given a time estimate, but with every announcement the conductor sounded sadder and sadder. Apologetic, even. His sincerity made me feel like this was the first time it had happened, and it was going to be a long time before it was over. Not sure if that made me feel any better.
There is a certain kind of stress you feel when you're stopped on a journey and need to make a connection at the other end. You begin to worry, and think about what you can do when you miss that connection. But when you're near the end of the trip like I was, the stress was so much less. But now I started to worry we would get in late enough that I would disturb my brother and his family when we got there. And that my daughter was sitting in her car waiting for me and we were already an hour and a half late.
We finally started moving, albeit slowly. And at some point we passed the construction and began to speed up. We were finally on the home stretch. Or so I thought.
I feel like this is where a commercial or ad should be spliced in. "Hey readers, are you frustrated not being able to find a good ambulatory surgical center for people with O positive blood types and an allergy to parakeets? Check out Dave and Max's ambulatory surgical center at... blah blah blah"
Since we were now on busy east coast tracks, they were built for speed. I hadn't seen our speed go over 79 the whole trip, but I was curious so I decided to check again. I had to reset my GPS app twice in order to fix what was clearly an error until my daughter texted me and told me that yes, we were indeed going well over a hundred miles an hour according to the Amtrak status update site. Crazy! And butter(cake)y smooth, too. It didn't feel like 50 much less twice that.
As soon as I became comfortable with the speed and how quickly it was closing the gap on the map between me and my daughter, we got another announcement. I was going to Baltimore, but first we had to pass through DC. The announcement was that when we did stop in DC we would be swapping out engines and crew. This would take at least 20 minutes, and the power would go off on the train during the process. We were allowed to get out and get some fresh air, however. So there I was, standing in the thankfully cool night air, already an hour past our original arrival time, watching the Amish walk their kids up and down the platform. Likely trying to tire them out a bit to keep them from getting stir crazy. Again, they seem to have a good amount of wisdom. I did see one father with a cell phone, which was surprising. But it was one of those 1990's candy bar shaped phones that I was surprised still worked. I guess though if you live in a society that shuns modern technology, one of those phones would be just as acceptable as a horse and buggy, or milking cows by hand every morning.
I also noticed that I hadn't been off the train in many hours, and I had some serious sea legs. You could feel the world moving beneath your feet gently, sometimes a big wave would come and you'd lean on something to support you. I love that feeling. Some of it may have been the absolute exhaustion I was feeling. Sleeping on a train is neat and all, but between that, sitting in one place for too long, and eating so much, I could have begun hallucinating small animals and it would not have shocked me. And all of this so very close to the end of the trip! I went back onboard before the boarding call, but was happy to see that while the "power" was off, our power really wasn't, and the air conditioning still worked. So I sat in a strange kind of silence waiting for the engine to start again. In the trains vs planes argument, I was not moving due to a delay, but unlike an airplane, I was still comfortable. I hate it when you're waiting for a gate or something and they stop the plane, but also turn off the air. So your claustrophobia can cook at a temperature that makes everything start to squeeze in on you. But here I was lounging on the train with comfortable air blowing and more room to stretch my legs than I ever could need.
I finally arrived, my daughter picked me up and we were thrilled to see each other. We headed out to the suburbs for my brother's house, but she did take a short detour through the heart of Baltimore to show me a church that was the original building/location of her college. Full of facts and interesting information, it was a welcome detour. I don't know what impressed me more, the nerding out on a piece of history, or her flawless ability to hold an animated conversation driving through crazy narrow downtown streets with fast cars passing and people on electric scooters going the wrong way through traffic - between lanes of cars. Chaotic, but she drove it like a grizzled taxi driver in New York City.
We did not disturb my brother and his wife, they were still up waiting to welcome us. My brother had to work early so he headed off to bed fairly soon, but my sister-in-law stayed up and chatted with us for a good amount of time. Exhausted but buzzed from the trip, it was the perfect way to relax and cool down before trying to sleep.
And did I sleep.
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