Blog / Riding Amtrak Across America, Part 1
I had always wanted to take an overnight train trip, so at the beginning of 2019, I rode Amtrak from Portland, Oregon to Denver, Colorado. I rode the Coast Starlight from Portland to Sacramento, and then the California Zephyr to Denver, which took 52 hours. That sounds like a long time to be in a confined space, but at the time I was very tired and wanted to rest with no obligations. Additionally, being a software developer, I spend most of my time thinking about abstract concepts. So, I wanted to take a break from that by learning about trains, which are very concrete, physical objects. And most of all, I wanted to see my country. The American Southwest covered in snow is something I will never forget. Take this post as more of a journal entry than a review.
From 2017 Amtrak system map. Rail shown in red.
Portland to Sacramento
If there is one thing I learned from this experience, it's that rail travel is nothing like air travel. I waited with two of my good friends at Union Station. Since I was going to ride in the sleeping car, we got to wait in a special historic waiting room and drink tea out of styrofoam cups. Once the Coast Starlight arrived, my ticket and ID were checked, but there were no lines or metal detectors.
A locomotive is bigger than it looks in photos and has a strange, organic smell, more dead animal than diesel fumes. And the huge diesel engine inside is not connected to the wheels. Its sole purpose is to generate electric power for the motors that make it move, as well as the equipment in each railcar.
My ticket was for a roomette. It's a small compartment with just enough room for two seats that fold out into twin-sized bunk beds. The train car wasn't new, but it was clean and my seat was comfortable. It's very different from the inside of an airplane— all plate glass, thick fabric, and heavy stainless steel. It was on the upper level of the sleeping car. Just a few minutes after boarding, the train departed the station. It moved smoothly and almost without sound. Very soon, we were outside the city limits and darkness fell. Riding along at eye level with second storey windows was an odd feeling.
Roomette in bed configuration.
That night, I went to use the shower. In the lower floor of the sleeping car, there was a small, clean room with soap, towels, and a shelf to put clothes. Then, the shower itself was behind a small door. There were instructions posted up that made me think of the space station bathroom in Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey. They said to adjust the temperature dial first, and then pressing a button would make water come out for 20 seconds at a time. I thought it might be cold, but it was very hot. Altogether, the whole setup worked quite well.
The porter folded out the bed, and I spread my winter coat over the navy blue blanket. Closing the curtains sealed in the heat better, but I left them open so I could see out the window. All night, we traveled through a national forest, surrounded by a tunnel of branches illuminated only by the green brake light on each car and the amber headlight in front. The world felt vast and mysterious.
Sacramento to Salt Lake City
Early that morning, before the sunrise, we arrived in Sacramento. The platform's harsh halogen lights cut straight through the darkness. The train station was at the end of a long tunnel under the roadway. It was a grand, quiet building with rows of wooden benches illuminated by crystal chandeliers. I sat and read a book my friend had lent me.
A few hours later, the California Zephyr was ready to depart. We traveled through a forest charred by wildfire, and a soft rain began to fall on the dry, orange grass and blackened trees. At one point, the train had to stop, and the conductor explained over the PA system that a dead tree had fallen on the tracks, Soon, it was cleared and we were on our way. Because of the fact that I hadn't slept much the night before, as well as the train's gentle rocking, I drifted in and out of sleep. I woke up when we crossed over the Sierras at a noticeable grade, snowflakes swirling over stunted pine trees and sharp stones. After awhile, I closed my eyes again, and when I opened them, the landscape became Nevada's gray semi-desert of dry grass and lumps of volcanic rock.
In the middle of the night, I watched fog rising from the Great Salt Lake and the lights of industrial facilities in the distance.
Salt Lake City to Denver
On the final day, the train crossed the Rockies. It is astonishing to me that such a huge machine is capable of climbing a mountain, and at such a quick pace. For most of the day, the tracks hugged steep cliff walls, following a river covered in thick ice. At 12,000 feet, above the clouds and under a brilliant blue sky, we emerged onto a flat plain covered with heavy snow. It was like traveling across the sky.
I was eating dinner in the dining car when the train was brought to a stop. The conductor announced that a freight train was using the Moffat Tunnel ahead, and the diesel exhaust needed to be cleared out of the tunnel before our turn. After 20 minutes or so, we were on our way. For the several minutes in the tunnel, nobody would be allowed to walk between cars because of carbon monoxide. It's such a tight fit that there's no room for fresh air.
The descent back down the other side of the Rockies was cautious and slow, careful not to slip from the tracks and go plunging off into the darkness. I saw the lights of Denver spread out in the distance below us, gold against pitch black. It was strangely like an airplane's final descent back down to earth. Arriving in Union Station's rail yard, the conductor asked for patience while the engineer backed the train in, which isn't easy to do. Once the train stopped, I collected my luggage and stepped out onto the platform. The station was still decorated with Christmas lights, and the air was sharp and cold. I felt as though I dreamed I was levitating above the earth, and carefully returned to the ground.
