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Reclaiming The Final States Sober, Round Two 11/22-30/1996

Having reclaimed several states earlier this month, over the Thanksgiving holiday, I planned to ride the Coast Starlight and Empire Builder to reclaim Montana, North Dakota, Minnesota and Wisconsin, then the California Zephyr and San Joaquin to home.

After working for two weeks and starting another junior varsity soccer season at McFadden Intermediat, I left the team in the capable hands of Albert Cortes, who was leaving tomorrow to get married in Las Vegas. I arrived at the Santa Ana station on a bright and sunny cool morning then checked to find the status of my train, when who did I run into than none other than Linda Paul, the Lead Service Attendant on the San Diegans, who was waiting for a very late Train 570. We chatted as we walked out to the platform and due to the rain in Oregon and a fifty foot sinkhole on Interstate 5, I joked about what time I would arrive in Seattle - either 8:00 PM or 4:00 AM. We said our goodbyes and within minutes, the San Diego Express arrived with two through-Superliner coaches on the rear for the Coast Starlight and a locomotive behind them. This was a new initiative and allowed anyone boarding on the San Diego line one seat service through to the Starlight without having to change trains in Los Angeles and I had been waiting to try this since the service was announced.

The car attendant sat me at the front of the coach and I found a large window seat on the right since I always sleep better on the right for some reason. I unpacked what I needed and since this was my seat all the way to Seattle, and I was the only person in this coach going all the way, I felt right at home as we departed Santa Ana eight minutes late. The car attendant put a hat check over my seat, but facing backwards, as a way for the conductor to know my ticket had not been taken. With no sign of him, I went to the California dining car for a 7-Up and returned to wait for the conductor to finally take my two tickets, a Santa Ana-to-Los Angeles and a Los Angeles-to-Seattle, and took the opposite one first. The remainder of the journey was fast, bypassing Anaheim, then downtown Los Angeles stood out in the clear morning sky as I glimpsed it from Santa Fe Springs. We passed Linda Paul's train at Commerce and I worked out how late she would be arriving in San Diego. The San Diegan Express arrived at Los Angeles Union Station on time on Track 9 and within minutes, the two through cars were cut off, pulled down the station leads and coupled onto the rear of the Coast Starlight on Track 10. This was much easier than having to detrain, make one's way through the mob of passengers on the platform and then board the Coast Starlight.

I was in the lounger car as we departed on schedule, but this time with a new twist, since we we reversing out of the station. While I knew that was going to occur, I did not expect to take the route we took, thinking we would reverse the way we had come in, then run along the west bank of the Los Angeles River. Instead, much to my surprise, we reversed across the river on the former Union Pacific lead into Union Station, cleared the switch and when the signal cleared, proceeded north along the east side of the river which gave me a short section of new mileage. The Starlight stopped at Glendale before continuing into the San Fernando Valley as I listened to the first of the Emerson, Lake and Palmer tapes. West of Van Nuys, we lost thirty minutes because the signals were out so the train had to creep along until we came to a green signal. Entering the Chatsworth tunnel, a passenger remarked on its length but probably did not realize the length of the Cascade, Flathead and Moffat tunnels, the three longest in order in the United States. After exiting and entering the Simi Valley, I walked to the dining car and ordered a Monterey chicken sandwich and enjoyed my meal at a table with a fresh cut rose. My table companions were with a group going to Hearst Castle and were first-time Starlight riders. We spent a pleasant half hour in conversation before I returned to the lounge car.

The trip along the coast from Ventura to past Surf was one of the most relaxing journeys I had had since there was no passenger traffic passing through the car and with my headphones on, it was just me, my music and the California coast line. There were offshore clouds obscuring the view of the Channel Islands, but their presence added to the character of the trip. The waves were breaking low and the tide was out, exposing the rocky shoreline, with the only interruption being the smoking stop at Santa Barbara, where I detrained for some fresh air, then returned to the lounge for the high bridges at Gaviota, the ride around Point Conception and the crossing of Vandenberg Air Force Base. I then returned to my coach seat at Surf for a nap until Grover Beach, where I went and bought some barbecue chicken wings as a snack before we arrived at San Luis Obispo. As we were thirty minutes late and since it was another smoking stop, I detrained to mail a postcard before reboarding just as southbound Train 11 arrived. We departed and proceede up the Cuesta Grade under a deck of low clouds and I remained in my coach seat for the twisting climb, which also gave me a better view of the horseshoe curve then ascended into the low clouds, where I looked back down into the valley and the approach to the Steener trestle came into view ten minutes after we had crossed it. Continuing upward, we passed through the tunnels and a few minutes later, Summit tunnel and into the Salinas Valley's watershed.

The upper valleys were green from the late autumn rainfall and the creeks were flowing nicely. I walked forward to the lounge car and on the way, stopped to see the new "kiddie room" which had seats along the walls, video monitors and children's books, which were being used by seven of them. I asked a parent how they liked it and had many positive comments since it gives the little ones their own area of the train, isolating them from the rest of the passengers. I went to the lounge car then returned to my seat for the rest of the ELP tapes, after which the steward came through with dinner reservations and as usual, the passengers going the furthest received the last of the reservations.

Travelling down the green Salinas Valley, the waxing gibbous moon was in the eastern sky with black storm clouds over the ridge line of the hills. I walked to the back door of the train and watched thirty mileposts fade into the early evening darkness with red lights changing to green as we passed each opposite signal. On two sections of tangent tracks, I watched three signals change green and remained that way with our passage. I always enjoy automatic block signals and my view was a fitting way to end the daylight portion of the trip.

Before Salinas, my dinner time was called so I ordered a New York steak and enjoyed the entertaining dining car service. This dining car crew really worked hard but also had a good time doing it and their attitudes just showed how much they liked their jobs. While eating, I was the odd man out as my tablemate's conversations were not the least bit interesting but I enjoyed the falling rain. Returning to my seat, I started another word fill-in puzzle and listened to The Nice's BBC sessions tape; The Nice was Keith Emerson's band before he was in Emerson, Lake and Palmer. This occupied my time through San Jose and the tape finished just as we were passing Oakland Coliseum, home of National Football League's Oakland Raiders and Major League Baseball's Oakland Athletics, then travelled the final miles into Jack London Square's Amtrak station thirty minutes late. I stepped off for fresh air stop as the smokers puffed away then we proceeded down the streets through the Square and entered the West Oakland coach yards, where our last coach was cut off. Due to the freeway construction from the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake, we departed on the re-routed main line which eliminated several restricted curves so made quick time to Emeryville, arriving twenty-five minutes early due to the padded schedule. I enjoyed some more night-time air prior to our on-time departure, where I retired for the night but found the leg rest on my seat broken so my quick fix was to put my suitcase underneath it to support it, then the night away.

11/23/1996 I awoke to find I was still in California, but not for long, as we passed through the border town of Dorris and plunged into a tunnel under the border with Oregon. I went to the dining car for breakfast of pancakes and sausage with a couple who had been to Churchill Manitoba, then flew to Lynn Lake to ride the mixed train, and a gentleman whose train-riding experiences were limited to troop trains during the 1950's. We arrived at Klamath Falls thirty-five minutes early so I had time to finish my meal and enjoy some fresh Oregon air on this foggy and cold morning with temperatures in the low thirties. Leaving on time, we travelled along Klamath Lake with the clouds obscuring the peaks to the west and passed a southbound Roadrailer train at Lentz siding before making a double station stop at Chemult. West of town, I saw the effects of logging since the downed trees were rotting away after they had been cut to harvest all the prime timber. I then spied the abandoned rails of the Klamath Northern before we passed first by Crescent Lake, followed by Odell Lake, as my mind turned back when I had met Carol over this route and wished she could accompany me on another.

I was hoping for snow over Cascade Summit but knew with the amount of the rain Oregon had been receiving, this wish would not be granted, but the Cascade crossing was still one of my favourite train rides. When the train started its westward descent, I went to the back door to enjoy the receding downhill views and further down the grade, the aspens were still in their brilliant golden leaf stage. After passing through Oakdale, we passed the Lookout Reservoir which was thirty feet below the vegetation line, waiting for the winter's rain to fill it. We arrived at Eugene, another fresh air stop, on time then departed, passing Southern Pacific's hump yard and proceeding north up the Willamette Valley with every stream crossed at flood stage. The stops at Albany and Salem came and went so I returned to the rear door for the ride into Portland. With the hills and river, it was a really tight entrance into the City of Roses and we passed the Oregon City falls of the Willamette River and I was amazed just how much water was flowing as it was so early in the rainy season. In addition, the trees here still had some of their autumn colours.

At Brooklyn Yard, the train stopped so the crew could hand-throw a switch to cross over to the wrongly-signalled main line into Portland. We were within sight of Portland Union Station across the Willamette River and came to a halt since it seemed as though there were not enough tracks at the station to handle our movement. The conductor explained that the Empire Builder (two Superliner cars) was on Track 1, Amtrak Cascades was on Track 2, Track 3 had the cars for the Seattle Seahawks football special and on Track 4 was the southbound Coast Starlight, running forty minutes late. We had to sit here until the latter's station work was complete, which took an hour, then finally the Coast Starlight passed and after fifteen more minutes, we crossed the steel lift bridge and arrived at Portland Union Station.

While at Portland, I bought some postcards as another Superliner coach was added to our train and would be dead-heading to Seattle. I enjoyed a late afternoon snack of barbecue chicken wings and the rest of the afternoon scenery after a thirty-five minutes late departure. The sky was turning dark as we crossed the Columbia River into Vancouver, Washington and after the most brief stop of the entire journey thus far, we sped north up the double track main line of the Burlington Northern. I returned to the lounge car at Vader and by Centralia, there were traces of snow. Moving quickly, the next stop of Olympia-Lacey came and went before we paralleled the shoreline of Puget Sound and the lights of the distant islands and the Tacoma Narrows bridge were very beautiful, but I could not help but notice all of the growth that was occurring in this area. We stopped at Tacoma and made our way to Seattle, ending another great ride on the Coast Starlight.

I taxied to the 6th Avenue Inn and while registering, was asked if I knew a Laura Guenzler who has an area code of 309. The name was the same as my sister's, but the last time I called her she had an area code of 415, so I had another mystery to solve. I watched a little television, freshened up and had a good night's sleep.

11/24/1996 I had two possible plans for my day in Seattle: either go to the Oakland Raiders-Seattle Seahawks game, or ride the waterfront streetcar and see the Seattle attractions. I took a taxi back to King Street station, wrote some postcards and paid $1.50 per bag to store my luggage for the afternoon then walked over to the Kingdome ticket office and bought a $41.00 to the game. Happy with my seat location, I walked the covered tailgate area and looked around at all of the activities, my favourite being the sumo wrestling. For $1.00, donated to charity, participants were put into inflatable sumo suits, donned wigs, get into position and then wrestle. Whoever won two out of three then pounceed onto the loser who was laying down on the mat. The more air the winner had in his pounce, the louder the cheers. It was very interesting to watch.

Knowing I had to reclaim my bags by 4:15 PM, I walked back to the station to time how long it would take then decided to walk to Union Station across the street and I saw the waterfront streetcar. While waiting for it to leave, I talked to the conductor and the female operator. He had sixty days of sobriety and we both enjoyed our sober lives. She saw the same films that I did so we laughed at "Mission Impossible", "Dragonheart" and the like. I then rode to the north end of the line and while waiting for the return trip, saw a Burlington Northern container train pass on its way south. On the streetcar going back, it filled with Seahawks fans going to the game. Our conductor was wearing a Raiders jacket and received many comments. The mob detrained at Pioneer Square station and then we went into the passing track to let the other trolley pass before resuming the journey, although we stopped quickly because a trolley wheel had come off the wire and the pole had to be re-positioned. I had always wondered if that could happen and finally witnessed it. Returning to the Kingdome, I entered the building and found my seat which was on the ten yard line but offered a good view of the entire field. Every time the Raiders came onto the field, they were greeted by a round of boos. The fans behind me came to the game on the eight-car Amtrak Seahawks football special train from Portland and had boarded at Kelso-Longview, and were amazed that I had come from Santa Ana by train. I watched most of the Raiders' 27-21 victory with Billy Joe Holbert's punting debut and the usual Raiders penalties. I left with seven minutes in the game and reclaimed my bags to prepare to board my next train.

I had never ridden eastbound over the route from Seattle to Spokane or east of Havre, Montana and was looking forward to seeing the Wisconsin Dells as we had passed that area on a prior westbound trip and I wanted to see it again. Of course, the main scenic highlight was going to be the crossing of Marias Pass along the southern boundary of Glacier National Park in the Rocky Mountains.

I was standing at the door leading to the track out to my train at a very busy King Street station with the Empire Builder, Cascades and Seahawks football special all due to leave within half an hour of each other. Within a minute of me standing there, a queue formed behind me. Being first in line allows the best choice of seats and I chose a large window seat on the right and settled in for my journey. Across from me was a lady named Marisol who happened to be wearing warm-up trousers similar to ones I wore at MacArthur Intermediate, and had been travelling around the country on Amtrak In the seats behind me and across the aisle was a family from Ephrata, Washington with the boy's favourite form of amusement being to pull on the back of my seat and watch it vibrate. His father watched him do this for about five minutes then asked if it was bothering me? I responded in the negative, commenting that since they were only goinig to Ephrata, I would not try to sleep until then. He thanked me for being so understanding and mentioned that they took this trip to Seattle to see how the boys would do on a train but they were not ready for an overnight journey. A wise man who was an excellent father.

We departed on time at 4:50 PM and plunged into the tunnel underneath downtown Seattle, emerging back into daylight along the Waterfront Streetcar route then passed through BNSF's Interbay Yard and had a two minute delay at the drawbridge at the Ballard Locks. I walked back to the dining car, which until Spokane, was half diner and half lounge, to purchase my Empire Builder coffee mug, along with a free cup of tea. Returning to my seat, we were paralleling Puget Sound with the clouds hanging over the Olympic Peninsula and a beautiful blue sky fading into night with distant lights on the opposite shoreline; I loved the end of daylight aboard a train. I heeded the first call to dinner and was seated across from a couple who had just finished riding the Canadian from Toronto. We shared stories while we enjoyed our prime rib dinner then asked them about their most special Canadian moment, who which they replied the snow. I returned to the lounge side of the car to get a 7-Up andd found an Australian who was upset about the train already being out of items such as sandwiches and could not understand how that could happen so soon after starting its trip. I was in agreement.

We encountered snow on the ground at Gold Bar as we met BNSF 7040 West and passed the traffic on US Highway 2 hoping to beat the icy conditions and snow began to change from the rain at the lower elevations. Further into the mountains of Stevens Pass at Scenic, we passed our westbound counterpart running eleven hours late then once we were on the move again, we entered Cascade Tunnel, the longest railroad tunnel in the country. People were walking between the cars, allowing the diesel exhaust to enter the car and warm it slightly and I wondered why they do not restrict passengers' movements in the same manner as is done when the Desert Wind or the California Zephyr go through the Moffat Tunnel? Emerging into a snowy night, we passed another westbound freight at Berne siding, which was waiting for us to pass then descending the eastern slope of Stevens Pass, I enjoyed the winter wonderland by the lights of ranches, farms and industries. We passed through the City of Leavenworth before stopping at Wenatchee then upon departing, I laid across my two seats and fell asleep, only waking while the family from Ephrata was packing to detrain. The next thing I knew I was in Spokane.

11/25/1996 Looking at my watch, I could tell we had been sitting here for at least an hour as my watch read 1:30 AM so I fell back asleep, only to be re-awakened by the sound of two passing freight trains which were so much louder when a train is standing still versus when it is moving down the tracks. I took this opportunity to walk downstairs and get some fresh air and looked up and down the platform, where there was no one in sight, just the little snowflakes trying to join their brothers on the ground and the sound of another freight train passing on the opposite side. I returned to the warmth of the train and went back to sleep.

I awoke at Sandpoint, Idaho and discovered we were running three hours and twenty-four minutes late but decided to arise up then went to the Superliner lounge car that had be added at Spokane and found a seat. The car was full for so early in the morning and I learnt that they had to board buses in Portland because of a freight train derailment and the Portland section of the Empire Builder never departed Spokane last night and sat there throughout the day. What should have been a quick bus trip turned into a long one on account of bad weather and a large ice storm. When they arrived in Spokane, they had to wait forty-five minutes and nobody told them why, although I suspected since the equipment had sat all day in Spokane, the cars were cold and the wait was for them to warm once they were coupled onto our train. They were glad to be on the train on their way to Whitefish to ski, but were moody. To alleviate that, I stood up and asked if any of them had looked out of the windows at the late autumn snow-covered scenery. Everyone did that then turned back to look at me with thanks or just a grin.

There had been an ice storm through here last night so trees and track-side lines were down and we were following a BNSF freight with SD40-2 7177, which would have gone into the siding at Algoma to let us by, but there was a tree across the siding so we followed him until we reached Elmira, where we ran around him. But before we could do that, we ran at restricted speed due to a block signal failure near Crossport. We continued following him until we reached Leonia, where our crew had to hand-throw the dual crossover switch. That whole incident added almost two hours to our lateness. The good news was that since I arose, I was seeing scenery passengers hardly ever so due to the nocturnal schedule of the Empire Builder through the panhandle of Idaho, so I raised my Empire Builder cup in a toast to the beauty and splendour of Idaho and Montana that I would be seeing

We entered Montana so already today, I had reclaimed two states for my sobriety. Near the siding of Yakt, we had more dark signals and we were following the Kootenai River, which was beautiful with the snowfall. We spotted cabins and looked for smoke coming from the chimneys to see if anyone was home; they were located in some of the most peaceful scenery in the whole United States. Throughout the morning, I had been chatting with a fascinating couple from Bellingham and discussed many subjects. Marisol was playing with two children who thought I was Wayne Gretzky because of the jersey I was wearing and wanted my autograph. I told them I was not and showed them my driver's license and they finally believed me. However, I gave them each an Amtrak postcard and wrote, "Best Wishes and may all your dreams come true! Have a great train trip. Christopher {not Wayne Gretzky} Guenzler."

While all of that was occuring, we passed through the City of Troy and I went back to my seat to enjoy the sights of Kootenai Falls which were very impressive. We arrived at Libby, our first stop in Montana, and had to wait for the conductor to find a passenger who was supposed to detrain then started on the Flathead Tunnel relocation line and stopped at Fisher Creek siding to drop off a dead-heading BNSF crew since the weather's effects were sparing no one. We proceeded to Rock Creek and waited for twelve minutes for BNSF to flush out the diesel exhaust in the Flathead Tunnel then the second longest railroad tunnel in the country, built because of the construction of the Libby Dam which flooded the original Great Northern right-of-way. We spent our time in the seven-mile-long bore before emerging back into daylight then had more block signal failures between Twin Meadows and Brimstone, before passing the freight that had preceded us through the tunnel at Stryker. This running at reduced speed cost us another fifty-one minutes.

We arrived at Whitefish five hours and one minute late and since it was a servicing stop, I detrained into the cold and slightly-snowing Montana air for a quick picture of our train but as it turned out, I did not need to be quick as it was announced that our crew had died on the hours of service law (twelve hours) and would have to wait for a new crew who would be here in forty-five minutes. I bought a postcard of Great Northern NW-3 181, mailed it and toured the Great Northern museum inside the station Returning to the train, it was then announced that the train would be here until 3:00 PM but the film "Flipper" would be shown in the lounge car during the delay. Since I had never seen the film and I always had liked Paul Hogan, I decided to watch it and it was quite a juxtaposition to be watching a film set in a tropical location while it was snowing outside.

My hope of reaching at least Essex in daylight was granted when the new crew arrived and we departed Whitefish at 3:11 PM, seven hours and thirty-six minutes late. I wondered how late we would be into Chicago so checked my Metra schedule and realized I could still make my Chicago and North Western line train to Arlington Heights (where my hotel was located) even if we were eight-and-a-half hours late. We passed through Columbia Falls and crossed the Middle Fork of the Flathead River to our next stop at Belton (West Glacier) then proceeded into the canyon and through the tunnels along the southern boundary of Glacier National Park, although the clouds obscured the majestic peaks. At Nyack, we passed a westbound grain train and at Paola, we met BNSF 1059 West, delaying us ten more minutes, then passed the Izaak Walton Inn with people on the porch waving as usual before stopping at the Essex platform. Our train had tripped the detector west of Essex so the crew inspected it, which took nine minutes. We then entered the first snow shed east of Essex which brought back memories of my Burlington Northern helper ride through it in March 1989. Minutes later, we crossed Goat Lick Trestle and came to the end of double track at Java West then passed the slide area before crossing the Java High Bridge and travelling up the north track at Java East.

Night took over after the next set of snow sheds and blackened out the scenery which would normally would be seen in daylight. Several passengers thanked me for bringing the scenery and sights to their attention and asked if they would see me tomorrow. My response was that if we did not lose any more time, we would not see the plains of Montana or North Dakota but would travel through Minnesota during the daylight, which is normally done at night. I had a 5:30 PM dinner reservation and ordered prime rib again from Menu Two. Tonight's films were "The Phantom" and "Twister" but I did not watch more than ten minutes because a buzzer kept going off in the lounge car and I asked a waiter from the dining car about it who came wandering in when he heard it and after talking a few minutes, he admitted only hearing that sound in the kitchen of the dining car. I went back to my seat for another Jethro Tull concert and fill-in puzzles then as we approached Havre, went downstairs where the car attendant could not get the door open because it was frozen. He asked me if I could and I managed to do so, but scraped my hand and broke the skin so I walked back through to the train to get a bandage then called home to let my mother know we were running very late. The temperature was five degrees with a light wind blowing and during the station stop, I talked to an Australian who was photographing Great Northern 4-8-4 2584 on display and we talked about what else, trains! We departed eight hours and twenty-three minutes late and I resumed listening to music. Marisol met a young man and they were enjoying each other's company then at Malta, it was a balmy twelve degrees as we left town and I fell asleep.

11/26/1996 Waking up after an excellent night's sleep, I wondered where we were and if we lost any more time. I went to the dining car for a breakfast of French Toast on what appeared to be an absolutely beautiful clear day and while eating, we arrived at Devils Lake and met our westbound counterpart running on time. A woman on that train mouthed to me "How late are we running and I mouthed back how late we were and wished her good luck, and was very surprised she knew our schedule. My dining car waitress, upon seeing Train 7, wished she was on that train and not ours because it was going home to Seattle. It has been a long trip for a lot of us and we still had 742 miles to go before to our destination, however, being in North Dakota added that state to my sobriety goal, with only two more to go on this trip. Passengers were again seeing scenery normally passed through at night and as we crossed the flat, cold, snowy and treeless landscape, I was listening to a 1979 Jethro Tull concert on my headphones. There was a lot of wheat buried under the snow waiting to come to life this next spring then we made our last station stops in North Dakota at Grand Forks before we turned south and ran to Fargo. From here to Minneapolis, we left the former Great Northern rails for those of the former Northern Pacific.

East of Fargo, we crossed the Red River of the North and entered Minnesota, another state down. The countryside was hilly and covered with trees as we spent the late morning and early afternoon crossing the the countryside with its 10,000 lakes. although I saw only two. There was a lack of freight trains on this route so I just enjoyed the new vistas and watched the towns we passed through then stopped at Detroit Lakes, Staples and St. Cloud. Nearing Minneapolis, the landscape became more urban in character and I saw that city's skyline then when the train curved, I could see the skyline of the smaller of the Twin Cities, St. Paul. We passed through the BNSF's vast Northtown Yard and saw various transfer jobs of the Soo Line, Chicago and North Western, Union Pacific and Wisconsin Central, on the way to Midway Station, the depot for the Twin Cities region and as the name implies, is located halfway between the two cities.

We pulled past the station before reversing into the depot and as this was a servicing stop, so I ventured into the station to mail a postcard. About half of the passengers needed to place telephone calls but there were only three to be fond and a lady commandeered one for the entire time we were there and was still on the phone when the conductor yelled "All Aboard!" There were hardly any new passengers because our schedule was protected by the running of an on-time bus, so we became a discharging train only except in Milwaukee, where a few passengers boarded. On the move again, we left Minneapolis eight hours and five minutes late.

We started along the east bank of the Mississippi River passing Dayton Bluffs, an area I have seen in many books, and enjoyed our passing of a Union Pacific freight in the narrow passage. The Mississippi River was frozen and the sun was sinking low in the western sky with the frozen river reflecting the red sky in an absolutely beautiful sunset. We crossed the river and stayed in Minnesota so that the old Milwaukee Road could serve the towns of Red Wing and Winona, then stopped in Red Wing, a town more well-known for tennis shoes than anything else. An announcement was made that since we were running so late, a complimentary meal of salisbury steak would be given to the sleeping car passengers first, followed by the coach passengers. The film "Mission Impossible" was being shown as we arrived at Winona and we sat for longer than normal.

It was then annonced that the bridge across the Mississippi River was out of alignment and we would be here until the bridge can be fixed. When the film was over, I went to the dining car and had my complimentary meal then returned through the lounge car, which was showing "The "Phantom" so I skipped that for another Jethro Tull concert and a puzzle. Passengers bound for La Crosse, Wisconsin were taxied to their station and I could see Wisconsin across the river, the final state I needed, but now there was talk of re-routing the train into Illinois and I would miss my final state. The conductor and I talked about my goal, which he thought was admirable, and told me that if the train were to be re-routed, he would send across the river into Wisconsin in a taxi, which he would pay for.

At 7:50 PM, nine hours and fifty-one minutes late, we departed Winona and continued our journey east, arriving at the siding before the bridge to let a westbound train by. The conductor came, took me downstairs and opened the vestibule window wanting me to shout my lines on his cue when we reached the east end of the bridge. When the freight had cleared, we proceeded out onto the Mississippi River bridge and once out of Minnesota, near the east bank and on cue I shouted "I am sober in Wisconsin and thank you Amtrak for getting me here." Much to our surprise, out of the darkness below was heard "So am I! God Bless You!" The conductor and I had a good laugh both thinking it had to be a fisherman. Two passengers from upstairs and the assistant conductor came down to shake my hand upon hearing my message. I went to the lounge car and Mr. Long gave me a complementary Coca-Cola for the completion of my goal.

During the latest delay, I asked my car attendant, Barbara McKay, to see if Train Chief Ralph Reed would be kind enough to call my hotel in Arlington Heights and cancel the reservation so I would not be charged for night, since we passed the nine hour and thirty minute window and I would miss my last Metra train to there. As we departed La Crosse ten hours and three minutes late, it seemed as though I made the correct choice as Barbara returned to let me know that the mission was accomplished. The Amtrak service representatives boarded at La Crosse and started calling passengers connecting in Chicago by train numbers. The Chief walked by and told me to talk to them and that they would find a room for me in Chicago. I listened to Jethro Tull as the train stopped in Tomah, Wisconsin Dells, Portage and Columbus then I walked to the dining car for my turn with the representatives and met Marisol, who was very happy with her hotel, meal and taxi vouchers.

I waited in the dining car for my turn then a black lady agent, wearing no name badge, called me to the table and asked me what I needed so I told her about the hotel reservation and the lateness that caused me to miss the last Metra train to Arlington Heights and my need for a hotel room on Chicago. She responded with that I should not have changed my hotel reservation and I replied that it was not Amtrak's fault and was not going to charge Amtrak with a whatever the cab fare would be to get me to a hotel where I would now have to pay for two nights since it will be after midnight and I did not arrive on the day I planned. Her unhelpful and downright rude response was that she was not going to help me and suggested I try Lounge G at Chicago Union Station, then walked away. Ralph, the Train Chief, overheard the end of our discussion and commiserated with me but there was nothing he could do and for the first time in my years of train riding, I walked away a dissatisfied customer.

I returned to my seat as we neared Milwaukee and Marisol asked me how I fared so I told her they were no help at all. Even thought it was late evening, no one was sleeping, with all waiting to see how this adventure was going to end. We were like a family and with every stop, said goodbye to our newly-found friends.

11/27/1996 We arrived at Milwaukee, changed crews one last time, added three passengers and departed into the night at 12:05 AM, nine hours and fifty-five minutes late. We made quick time towards Chicago and once into Illinois, entered the Metra commuter district, but with no trains at this late hour, sped right through it. I then remembered there was a hotel board in the station and after the stop at Glenview, our last before Chicago, we quickly made our way to the Windy City, arriving at Chicago Union Station at 1:30 AM, nine hours and forty minutes late. Before everyone went their separate ways, we said our goodbyes with high-fives and hugs. As I disembarked and walked down the platform, I looked back at the train and my new record for being late. It was the end of one adventure, but this morning I about to start another.

I walked into the station carrying my two bags and found the hotel board, called one but no one answered at 1:38 AM, then "Hotel Roosevelt. 25 Dollars a night. We pay cab fare from Amtrak Station. Ask for the Amtrak Rate." I called and was told they had a room and to get a receipt from the taxi driver. I walked out onto the completely empty street to find a cab, was joined by a couple and we decided that I would walked south and they walked north, whoever found a taxi first would have the driver call one for the other party. As such, I walked to the corner of Jackson and Clinton Streets where a black man approached me and asked if I had any spare change. I told him he could have all of my change if he could find me a cab and he responded that they were all over at the bus depot and would walk me there making sure nothing happened to me. I bought a guide and protection. We went about half a block when a cab came around the corner and he ran out into the street to stop it then opened the door for me and I gave him all of my spare change. He said "God bless you!" and I never saw him again.

In the cab I asked the driver to take me to Hotel Roosevelt and to call a cab for a couple walking north on Jackson. The hotel had alerted him to my arrival, although his voice was not all that enthusiastic. We drove east then turned right on Wabash Street, driving under the "L" line, similar to "The Blues Brothers" and as we emerged from under the rails, I saw a blue neon sign "Hotel Roosevelt" and on the wall in big letters "Transients Welcome." What have I got myself into this time, I wondered. The taxi driver drove right past since he thought it was further down the street then made a U-turn and confirmed with me that this is where I wanted. I paid five dollars and was given a receipt then walked across the street into the Hotel Roosevelt.

The lobby looked as though it was out of a scene from a gangster film. Behind the counter was a rough-looking man with a cigar in his mouth and seated by the elevator was an old black man, the bellboy/bouncer. I asked for a room and as he talked, the cigar never fell from his mouth, reminiscent of Rock Bottom, a character from Felix the Cat. He asked for my driver's license and the taxi receipt, then I signed my name in the book with just an X and the whole cost came to twenty dollars. The bellboy/bouncer took my bags and we walked to the elevator where he pushed the button repeatedly but nothing happened. He vanished but then I heard the sound of jumping above me coming from the elevator shaft and moments later, the elevator opened and he said "Going up." Slowly we went up until we reached the sixth floor where he led me through the narrow dark hallway to the southwest corner of the building and took me into the room and offered to show me its features, but I just wanted to go to bed so I thanked him and gave him a tip then fell asleep.

I was awoken by the sounds of trains running outside the building and shaking the room and saw that it was 6:40 AM. Since I was on the south side of Chicago, why not take a taxi to La Salle Street Station and ride Metra to Joliet on the Rock Island line, something I have always wanted to do, then walk back to Union Station. I sprang to my feet and had a bath in the largest tub I had ever seen then looked out of the window to an excellent view of the streets below and the elevated trains. I dressed and packed to leave with, Alice Cooper's Lace and Whiskey album playing in my head and I felt I was playing a part in a gangster film. Not taking a chance on the elevator, I walked down the very tiny steps of the stairs six flights to the lobby, where I checked out to a woman with a cigar hanging out of her mouth. Mrs. Rock Bottom? I returned the key, wanted a taxi called and asked what was so historic about this hotel, to which she replied that the room I had had been used by Al Capone when he was being chased because of the view the room offers.

The taxi driver started a conversation with me on the way to La Salle Street Station, remarking that he quit drinking hard liquor thirty-eight years ago, beer six years ago and now was trying to give up wine. He had five days in his quest and I told him of my 679 days of sobriety, for which he congratulated me and I did the same with his new start. He turned on a side street next to the station and after I paid my fare, walked to find the station and saw a crowd of people walking towards me so I knew they had come from a commuter train and made my way upstairs and found the ticket office/waiting room. I bought a round-trip ticket to Joliet and picked up some extra Metra Rock Island timetables for my Orange County Railway Historical Society members.

I remembered the well-known song title, "Take a Ride on the Rock Island Line" and I had always wanted to ride the Chicago, Rock Island and Pacific Railroad. It ceased in 1980 since it could not survive bankruptcies and merger attempts by its neighbouring roads and could not join Amtrak because it did not have the money, so it ran the Quad Cities Rocket to Rock Island and the Peoria Rocket to Peoria for a few years in the 1970's until the government allowed it to discontinue all services except the Chicago-to-Joliet commuter service. The Rock's freight lines were either abandoned or sold off to neighbouring railroads and new short lines. Metra then took over the running of the commuter trains, the reason why I am here today.

I walked onto the platform, turned and looked back to where the station that I had seen in pictures once stood, now a modern skyscraper. I boarded the second car of an eight-car train and on schedule at 7:45 AM we departed, and I was travelling the same track as the Golden State, Rocky Mountain Rocket and all of the other Rock Island passengers trains that used this route. We crossed the St. Charles Air Line and picked up speed as we proceeded directly south from Chicago. At Gresham, we left the main line for the suburban line and from Brained to Prairie Street, stops were every three or four blocks through Beverly Hills and Morgan Park, acting more like a trolley than a commuter train. These eleven stops were the closest together I had experienced on a commuter train. We passed through the remnants of Rock Island's Blue Island Yard which was being demolished, although Metra had a small facility here. At Blue Island, I saw a Metra Electric train on the former Illinois Central branch awaiting its departure time, another route I had yet to ride, then we crossed the Calumet River and travelled over the tracks that make up the Blue Island crossing of Canadian National (Grand Trunk Western), CSX Chicago Division, Elsdon Subdivision, Indiana Harbor Belt Chicago Division and the Iowa Interstate Railroad (former Rock Island).

We were now passing southwest through Tinley Park and Hickory Creek, which were relatively new stations, to Mokena where we travelled almost west through some forest to New Lenox before arriving at Joliet at the crossing of the Santa Fe and Illinois Central (Southern Pacific had trackage rights).

I enjoyed the fresh air on this cold breezy Wednesday morning then reboarded for the quick and uneventful journey back to Chicago, watching the car fill with passengers and the conductor doing his work.

The Windy City was living up to its name and I started my walk back to Union Station by crossing the street, walking up the sidewalk and crossing the next street then half way up the block, I looked into a building and saw a hallway all the way through so I took this shortcut to escape the wind. A man asked where I was going and when I told him Union Station, he said he wouuld show me how to get through the buildings except for the streets and the Chicago River. I followed him and learned he worked for the Food and Drug Administration. I thanked him, we parted company and he wished me a nice trip then I walked across the Chicago River into Union Station and went to the food court for some postcards and two Gold Coast Char Dogs for lunch since I had skipped breakfast. Realizing I had plenty of time to spare, I decided to go out to Hanover Park on Metra's Milwaukee West Line.

In 1982, the Milwaukee Road Elgin Line was sold to the newly-created Northeast Illinois Regional Commuter Rail Corporation which ran commuter trains for the Milwaukee Road while the latter underwent reorganization. The Milwaukee Road retained ownership of the line until 1986. Metra formally purchased the Milwaukee District (the only other being Milwaukee District North) from the Soo Line Railroad (which took the bankrupt Milwaukee Road under its wing in 1985) in 1987. The Soo Line then ran freight trains on the line via trackage rights until it was absorbed into the Canadian Pacific Railway in 1990.

With a set of tickets in hand, I boarded the Metra train which, of course, left on time and passed the Metra coach yards with its trains being serviced for the afternoon commuter rush. We diverged from the Northwest Line onto the Milwaukee main line but did not stop at Mars, the station named for the Mars, Incorporated candy factory located on Oak Park Avenue in the Galewood neighbourhood, right behind the station. We then passed SOO Line Yard at Bensenville with many trains getting ready to depart for distant points on the Soo's system before stopping at Wood Dale, Itasca, Medinah, Roselle and Schaumburg before the terminus at Hanover Park. Before I detrained, I thanked the conductor for all of his hard work and told him what a Metrolink conductor did and we laughed at what an easy job they have. The wind was blowing strong and hard and I went into the depot and wrote seven postcards then waited for a train from Big Timber, which arrived on schedule and I was off on my non-eventful journey back to Union Station, where I mailed the postcards, stopped at an automatic teller machine and made my way to the waiting room.

I was finding that Amtrak station personnel could never tell you at which gate to queue for boarding a train and today was no exception. We as the passengers were told one thing but had to do another and this is where I met Ralph, who was on his first series of Amtrak trips having left Pittsburgh last night and was returning to Nevada to sell his property there since he and his wife moved to eastern Ohio. The boarding of the Zephyr was announced for the wrong gate, so I told Ralph to follow me and we back-tracked into the rear waiting area, circled around to the south boarding area and were first in line, to which Ralph was very impressed. We walked down the platform and boarded the Zephyr going upstairs and chose separate seats. The coach filled and when a couple of newlyweds were looking for a seat together, I asked Ralph to join me and he happily agreed. With everyone seated, the California Zephyr departed on time.

This was the one day of the week on which the Zephyr runs, but does not carry the Pioneer on its rear to Denver, so there was no opportunity to purchase a Pioneer coffee mug for my collection. After having our tickets taken, I introduced Ralph to a Superliner lounge car and sat down and waited for service to commence with Ralph being amazed at the view it provides. I obtained a 5:30 PM dnner reservation and as it was yet again Menu Two, I had the prime rib then just before dinner, the train came to an emergency stop at Princeton as it almost hit a car. While eating during our stop at Galesburg, I spotted Chicago, Burlington and Quincy 3006 decked out in Christmas Lights. Tonight's film was "Dragonheart" which I had had my fill of, so continued a Jethro Tull marathon. We crossed the Mississippi River into Iowa and continued west then at Ottumwa, I detrained for some fresh air at the hometown of the character Radar O'Reilly from "MASH". Upon departure, I returned to my coach seat and fell asleep.

11/28/1996 I awoke and found I was back in Colorado on Thanksgiving Day 1996 and went downstairs to change and on my return, found Ralph was awake. He suggested that we go the lounge car for some coffee and tea and as we stopped at Fort Morgan, I took that moment to recall the Australians' adventure in the taxi to reach here. This morning began with a quiet red sunrise and another clear day, exposing the whole Front Range of the Rockies again, but the main difference was a full moon at about a forty-five degree angle in the western sky. I went downstairs for another cup of tea and after two more cups, we arrived at Denver twenty minutes early.

Ralph guarded our lounge seats while I detrained to mail postcards then I returned and we swapped places so he had an extra long smoking break as many passengers boarded. Ralph returned and was not expecting so many people and was grateful to be travelling with me since I knew the ropes of riding the rails so well. My car attendant walked by and I asked how many passengers boarded, to which he replied that 187 passengers boarded in Denver but after Glenwood Springs, there will be only 58 continuing west, shades of the Rio Grande Zephyr.

We departed on time and retraced my routing of sixteen days ago with two exceptions - a different cast of characters and I was sitting on the right side. Proceeding into the Front Range, there was no snow until Tolland but Ralph's keen eyes spotted something I had never seen before, mine car tracks on the north side of Upper Boulder Creek. There was more snow as we entered the Moffat Tunnel but no exclamations from anyone as we burst into the winter playground of the Winter Park ski area. At Fraser, a ski group occupying the last coach took a little time to detrain so I made a snowball and threw it in memory of the English couple from my last trip. The canyons and river were as beautiful as ever with fourteen bald eagles spotted, then we met our westbound counterpart at Dell and thirty minutes later, passed through a snowy Glenwood Canyon, but only in places where the sun did not shine, which was most of it. It really added to the character of the canyon and I saw it in a completely different light. Passengers detrained at Glenwood Springs and we left on time with a fairly empty train.

There were no slow orders today so we maintained maximum track speed and for that matter, there had been no freight trains as it is Thanksgiving. What a way to spend Thanksgiving - on a train on Amtrak's most scenic route sober, for which I was most thankful. We arrived at Grand Junction at sunset and I called home then reboarded and returned to my seat as the train started to move. As I was looking out of the window, a blonde woman was jumping up and down and the rear brakeman spotted her, stopped the train and she boarded our coach. Up the stairs she came, embarrassed, spotted me and told me that she was in the station's washroom, heard the whistle and came out and saw the train moving. I comforted her with a white lie, saying I have seen many people do that and she smiled and walked off. The truth is I had never seen that happen before.

Tonight's dinner was a traditional Thanksgiving feast with turkey and all the trimmings, but for me and my unique tastes, it was turkey, gravy and potatoes which made for a fine meal. This was Ralph's first dining car experience and he was completely taken with the food and the service. Dinner once more was in the darkened Ruby Canyon then out across the Utah desert, the film was "Mission Impossible" again until Helper, where I had another opportunity for fresh air due to our excellent running. Upon departing, I fell asleep across two seats as everyone in our coach now had their own set of seats. I awoke at Salt Lake City to find the conductor boarding passengers into the car we were all sleeping in rather than the two empty cars. I went downstairs and stepped off into a night of rain turning into sleet which felt really good on my skin. I fell fast asleep again and after passing to the south of the Great Salt Lake then crossing the salt flats, we exited Utah into Nevada, travelling on the former Western Pacific rails. I slept through only one station stop of Elko, which was the longest point between stations on the Amtrak system, at 263 miles between Salt Lake City to Elko.

11/29/1996 Waking up, I changed and found Ralph up so we went to repeat our coffee/tea ritual but unfortunately our lead service attendant was under the weather with a head cold and was late in arriving, so we sat enjoying the scenery and I learnt a bit more about Nevada. I tried for an hour to think of the name of town of Gerlach but could not remember it until I told the story of Union Pacific 3985's excursion to San Jose. There was snow on the mountains and we passed through a part of the valley where the floor was covered with it. The sunrise made the landscape absolutely beautiful as we sped across it, then stopped at Winnemucca and passed Rye Patch Reservoir before a brief stop at Lovelock. Since just west of Wells, we had been riding the rails of the Southern Pacific and finally passed a freight train. We had also been following the Humboldt River and reached its end at the Humboldt River Sink. The train then passed through Fernley and Truckee River and we followed it to begin our westward climb of the Sierra Nevadas then passed the famous Mustang Ranch of "Ladies of the evening" and within thirty minutes, arrived at Sparks thirty minutes early. It was our 500 mile servicing stop, so I detrained to enjoy the morning air and bought a USA Today to read about the O.J. Simpson trial taking place in Los Angeles.

I returned to the lounge for the short trip to Reno and Ralph came to say goodbye, thanked me for making his journey so fantastic and hoped we would meet again on the train. At Reno, many passengers boarded, including a Brazilian couple and their son sitting next to me. This was their first train trip and asked me where the scenic highlights were. We talked music and as they were from San Paulo, I asked if they liked Queen. The father told a story of riding his bicycle to the concert there and thought it was the best show he had ever seen. I shared the story of my first Queen concert at the Long Beach Arena in 1977 and we all agreed that the group was one of the greatest rock and roll bands of all time.

We followed the Truckee River, passed through the small town of Verdi and entered California. The lounge car was now full but I went down to get my usual lunch of a hot dog, chips and a 7-UP, returning to my seat just as the train crossed the Truckee River. We twisted and turned up the canyon through Boca, a favourite photographic location, before we reached the next station at Truckee, then proceeded up Coldstream Canyon, reversed direction and plunged into Tunnel 13 and upon exiting, had a fantastic view of Donner lake. There was a California State Railroad Museum volunteer on board, providing commentary so I listened and enjoyed the ride. We reached the end of double track and soon entered Summit Tunnel 41 and crested Donner Pass within its darkness. The Southern Pacific single-tracked parts of Donner a few years ago so I wanted to ride back over it to see the difference.

Making our way down the grade through the limited snows of maybe six inches was a big difference from 1983 on my first trip to ride the Rio Grande Zephyr when the mountain was covered with thirteen feet of snow. We passed through Norden, followed shortly after by Soda Springs and descended the ridge line then were back on double track with perfectly clear views of the Sierra Mountains. The highway was far below us as we twisted along the ridge line and after a few of the remaining snowsheds near Troy, we reverted back to single track. Across the valley I saw a fire lookout station on Signal Peak and dropping further, we passed through Yuba Gap, ducked underneath Interstate 80 and stayed on the north side of it until we crossed under it again at Emigrant Gap.

Near Midas, we passed the location of the former viewpoint of the American River two thousand feet below, where passenger trains once stopped for views of the gorge. We cut around the ridge at Alta before passing through the Gold Rush towns of Dutch Flat, Gold Run and Magra then at Cape Horn, we made an 180 degree turn, going through Tunnels 33 and 34 as our eastbound counterpart passed. We then crossed the high bridge at Long Ravine and just as we arrived at Colfax, we lost head end power and sat there for fifty minutes as the crew tried to fix the problem, with meal service in the dining car was suspended throughout the duration. Being restless, I walked the train to the rear door, remembering my only other westbound trip when the brakeman opened the rear door and I photographed all the way from Norden to Roseville. They may have single-tracked part of Donner Pass, but they can never take away the beauty and excitement of a trip over "The Big Hill."

Departing Colfax forty-five minutes late, we continued our descent down through the foothills to the Sacramento Valley. The tracks split, later crossing over one another, before we travelled through Auburn passing the restored Southern Pacific depot there. Crossing over Interstate 80, I looked out to the right and saw the Sutter Buttes on this very clear day. After exiting a cut, downtown Sacramento could been seen forty miles away with the Coast Range in the background. We rejoined the other track and within minutes, stopped at Roseville's replica station then passed the yards there with Union Pacific signs everywhere. Even though Southern Pacific and Union Pacific merged earlier this year and previous traces of the former railroad are usually quickly obscured, there were still many Southern Pacific box cars here, so the name lives on. We paralleled the Sacramento Light Rail line for a few miles before crossing the American River, travelling along the north edge of downtown Sacramento and arriving at the depot, where I detrained. Thank you, Amtrak, for another wonderful crossing of Donner Pass.

My brother Bruce met me and we drove to his house and since he had to be in Bakersfield to oversee the passenger boarding on Sunday, he needed to be on the last train south tomorrow. That was fine with me and I told him about my experiences until we reached his house. Karla fixed me a turkey dinner, my nephew Adam beat me in backgammon and his brother Eric showed me his video game skills. We watched "Independence Day" and I slept on the lower bunk of a bunk bed.

11/30/1996 The next morning, Eric, Adam and I went to see "Jingle All the Way" which I enjoyed then returning to their house, I packed and prepared for my journey home. Bruce and the family took me to In and Out Burger before the two of us drove to the Sacramento station.

This would be a combination bus/train/bus home to Santa Ana. I listened to John Cougar on my headphones as we cruised down the highway then at Stockton, the train was late but I did not mind as it meant that I did not have as long a layover. Bruce and I boarded the cab car, taking two seats across from each other then I decided to have a nap and slept down the San Joaquin Valley. I only awoke when the stations were called, otherwise the next thing I knew we had arrived at Bakersfield. Bruce and I said our goodbyes, I boarded the bus and fell fast asleep until we were exiting the freeway to Union Station in Los Angeles. After a twenty minute layover, we made the quick miles down Interstate 5 to Santa Ana where I debussed, found a taxi to take me home, climbed over the fence as I did not have my keys and was fast asleep in my bed by 3:45 AM.

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