I slept rather erratically through the night. I could tell our train wasn’t making good time. We were crawling. Now and then we’d get up top a good speed for maybe ten or fifteen minutes, only to slow to a snail’s pace for much longer periods. We didn’t reach Redding until 7:30am, over four hours late. At this rate, I feared, we wouldn’t get into Salem until 10:00pm.
Looking towards Interstate 5 on the northern parts of Lake Shasta
But it did give us an uncommon sightseeing opportunity. We had breakfast in the upper Sacramento River gorge, a scene few rail travelers get to see in daylight.
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Above: Interstate 5 above the Sacramento River. Note the old bridge pilings. |
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Our train was stopped along the river, so I did a no-no. I opened the vestibule window to get these shots. Don't do this! Amtrak crews will scold you severely if you get caught because it can be dangerous if you don't know what you're doing. Under no circumstances whatsoever should you open the window if there is another track alongside. |
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Breakfast
Right: complimentary juice is provided in the Pacific Parlour Car. It is a far cry from the bitter canned stuff they served in plastic cups during my first Amtrak trip in 1974.
When we were seated at the breakfast table Heidi, who is always the more alert one in the morning, introduced us to our table companions. “I’m Heidi, this is Jim.” She said.
“Hi. I’m Walter, and this is Milly.”
It was Doras’s friends! Walter is a geology professor at UC Berkeley, and they were on their way to a bluegrass festival in Tacoma (an event which brought us some surprises on our return journey). Meanwhile, we played stump the geologist as we asked Walter about some of the natural features in the gorge. He was at a loss to explain abrupt changes in the color of the river water.
I had the French Toast with turkey sausage, while Heidi had quiche. Both were quite palatable, and kept us satisfied until lunchtime. Juan, as before, took good care of us.
Left:
Heidi and I at breakfast.
Meanwhile, the scuttlebutt around the train was that we encountered high
winds and high water during the night which slowed us down. No doubt a 1,000
foot wall of steel experiences some challenges in strong winds. But perhaps
of greater concern was the fact that we had just passed train #11, an omen
that did not bode well for conditions north of here. It was almost 7 hours
late. Something had given it trouble! And our own progress was not encouraging.
We stopped several times for freight traffic on our way into Dunsmuir.
Moving right along
At Dunsmuir we were offered a “smoking stop” or as non-smokers prefer to call it, a “fresh air stop;” a few minutes where we could step off the train and partake of our favorite legal inhalant. But only one coach was to be opened, so I made my way there. In passing through the Sightseer Lounge I saw a man who looked like Santa Claus, along with his wife, playing a little bluegrass. I think I know where they were headed.
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Right: Musicians in the Sightseer Lounge
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From Dunsmuir to Mt. Shasta to Klamath Falls and into the far side of the Cascades crossing, we had snow. Snow. Everywhere we looked there was snow.
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Cantera Loop between Dunsmuir and Mt. Shasta. |
Climbing the grade towards Mt. Shasta. |
10:20am "UP detector, milepost 327.3, no defects. Detector out."
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Black Butte shrouded in fog. |
A country road crossing near the northern edge of California. |
11:42am "UP detector, milepost 372.9, no defects, total axles 48, train speed 40 mph. Detector out."
12:02pm "UP detector, milepost 390.9, no defects, total axles 48, train speed 29 mph. Detector out."
About 40 minutes before Klamath Falls I heard on the scanner that the operating crew was approaching its legal work limit. There was a real chance the crew might “die on the law” before we reached the next crew change at K-Falls. In that event, the train would have to stop until the replacement crew came to meet us. “It’ll be a photo finish” I heard one crewmember say on the radio.
Dorris, the last town we pass in California.
Fortunately, we beat the deadline. When we stopped in Klamath Falls for our next fresh air break, it was snowing more or less. It floated like snow, but on the skin it felt like teeny tiny bits of ice, not quite like hail.
Klamath Falls
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The Pacific Parlour Car Left: The Pacific Parlour Car Below Left: Heidi takes my picture Below Right: Heidi looks out on Klamath Lake |
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Lunch time
We left K-Falls just before 1:00 and we went to the Parlour Car to put in our name for lunch. We then decided to have a look at the seemingly endless surface of Klamath Lake from the nearby comfy chairs. We were called to our table about 20 minutes later, and Juan welcomed us back to the diner with a smile.
Our lunch companions were a couple named Lynn and Jan from Cannon Beach, Oregon who also boarded in Salinas. (He was the one who asked the station agent where we were.) They introduced themselves pretty quickly, so I asked them, since both names were interchangeable in gender, to clarify who was Lynn and who was Jan. He said he was Lynn, but they both answered to either name. They told us all about a gift shop they owned, called Shorelines N.W. Many years ago he had been stationed at Fort Ord, and they had gone back to Monterey for a look.
I ordered
the Angus burger. Heidi had a grilled chicken sandwich. I never found out
how Heidi liked hers, because I was so distracted by the fine quality of
mine that I just didn’t care! With the main course put away we were
both stuffed, but we decided to split a piece of chocolate cake anyway. It
was moist and gooey and came with a liberal dose of whipped cream topping.
Ahhhh.
On our way out Juan asked if he would be seeing us for dinner. I said we hoped to be off the train by then. He asked “Where are you getting off?” “Salem” I told him. He put on a faux grim face and said in a somber voice “You’ll be back.”
But his pessimism was for naught. We made good time the rest of the day, losing no more off the schedule, and maybe even gaining a few minutes back.
We spent the afternoon close to our room, quietly reading, napping, munching on homemade cookies; all while enjoying the spectacular views of the Cascades crossing. It has been said, and truly, that the train is the only civilized way to travel. We were living the proof of that, cloistered comfortably in our cozy compartment.
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In the upper reaches of the Cascades crossing |
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At 2:50pm we passed through the summit tunnel and began our gradual, winding descent towards the Willamette valley.
I took a walk to the rear of the train for a little exercise and a photo or two. Since we were going downhill, I was walking uphill, a fact my legs began to notice after a few cars through.
View from the last coach
As we lost elevation the ground began to drop its soft white blanket. Green foliage began to dominate and eventually we were surrounded by the dingy Oregon drizzle which is responsible for creating all of this lush forestry.
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4:10pm "UP detector, milepost 583.5, no defects, total axles 48, train speed 49 mph. Detector out." |
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Right: Heidi looks out on Lookout Reservoir. |
We arrived in Eugene at 5:45. The two of us stepped off to sample the local air. At the vestibule door I made a photo of Heidi, which turned out to be my favorite shot of the entire trip. When Angela saw the camera, she offered to snap a photo of us together.
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In Eugene Top: Heidi and me. Right: Angela, our sleeping car attendant. Below: Train #11 comes in alongside, as seen from our room. |
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On the next track over train #11, which had originated in Seattle that morning, came in and stopped. It would have to wait until we were on our way before it could open its doors, for we were between it and the station. Barely nine hours earlier we had passed its predecessor near Dunsmuir, which left Seattle yesterday morning.
We made good speed from here on out, as the next two reports testified:
6:04pm "UP detector, milepost 681.1, no defects, total axles 48, train speed 71 mph. Detector out."
6:18pm "UP detector, milepost 697.8, no defects, total axles 48, train speed 71mph. Detector out."
Through the Willamette Valley Heidi pointed out some of the farmhouses that some of her cousins and friends had owned for generations. In Albany we heard transmissions from one of the local short line railroads. Outside it began to grow dark.
We gathered our belongings, packed up our bags, and prepared to detrain in Salem. Shortly before we stopped, Angela came to our room and offered to take any bags to the vestibule. We handed her our two carry-ons, freeing our hands for the odds and ends.
At 6:45pm we stepped onto the ground, four hours and three fourths late. Not great, but I’ve had worse. I handed Angela a generous token of our appreciation, then looked up to see my mother and sister were there to greet us.
I looked towards the station and pulled out my camera. Light was shining off of the silver train, and the rain soaked pavement was sparkling at our feet. I steadied my camera against a lamppost and made one more image of #14.
The Coast Starlight in Salem
We claimed our luggage from the baggage cart within minutes. Shortly after we were enjoying a home-cooked meal at Mom’s place.
