Rave by Rain

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Maglev

Conductor
Joined
Sep 4, 2016
Messages
1,521
Location
Orcas Island, Washington
For my first post, I am going to share a story about an experience from almost forty years ago. I call this story “Rave by Rain” because it is the famous slogan “Travel by Train” with a few letters missing. This seems fitting for Amtrak in the late seventies.

My family lived in Hawaii, but I had a scholarship to attend a prep school in New Hampshire. My parents could not afford to fly me home for breaks, so I would visit relatives on the mainland and travel by train. Over Christmas break at the end of 1977, I bought a “USA Rail Pass” and traveled to Oregon by way of Texas to visit my sister.

The trip started out with a chartered bus to Boston’s South Station, where a large group of fellow students and I boarded a car that had been set aside for us on the train. In the distant past, this particular school chartered trains to New York, but I felt like the accommodations we had in a brand new Amfleet Amcoach were among the finest students from the school had ever seen. I joked about sitting in my Amchair eating an Amsandwich from the Amcafe. In the bathroom, there were Amenities—Ampax Ampons?

At Penn Station, I left my classmates and boarded the Broadway Limited bound for Chicago. At that point in my life, I liked trains but was not very knowledgable. There was an older couple seated across from me, and the man kept talking loudly about going around the “Huss Show Curve.” I did not know what he was talking about—I had never heard of the “Huss Show Curve.” The next morning in Indiana, I awoke next to a bakery with a large picture of Little Miss Sunbeam on the side.

In Chicago, I boarded the Lone Star bound for Houston. I was excited to see the Hi-Level coach Amtrak had inherited from Santa Fe’s El Capitan. I stowed my suitcase downstairs, and settled in for a long night. One mundane thing that stands out in my memory is watching TV or radio tower lights appear in the distance then pass. I was impressed with the scenery in Oklahoma the next day, and with the way Fort Worth rose over the barren plains As we were arriving in Houston, someone took pot shots at our train and hit two windows in my coach. Our arrival in Houston was the first of two times on my trip that my train was met in a station by law enforcement officers.

In Houston, I transferred to the Sunset Limited bound for Los Angeles. It was also equipped with High-Level coaches. Crossing the Pecos River high bridge and seeing the not-so-grand Rio Grande were highlights. That evening, I got my usual sandwich from the cafe for dinner. It seemed odd that a turkey sandwich had a piece of ham in it. But then an hour later, I was retching in the bathroom downstairs trying to rid my stomach of what was likely not just ham. I spent a miserable night making numerous trips to the bathroom.

We arrived early the next morning in Los Angeles, and I was still not feeling well at all. It was a gray day as the Coast Starlight made its way north through a smoldering landscape that had recently been burned by brush fires. The scenery seemed to match how I felt. I vaguely remember Oakland.

But the next morning, I was feeling better and I made my way to the dome car to eat my breakfast pastry. On that icy morning in Klamath falls, several fellow passengers and I watched in amazement as a car slid through a stop sign and collided with another. Soon, we were descending the mountains into Eugene where I left the train to spend Christmas week with my sister.

My departure was on New Year’s eve, and the southbound Coast Starlight was jammed with revelers heading for the Rose Bowl. I spent the night in the dome car, where a few other passengers and I stuffed newspaper over the lights to allow an unobstructed view. It was fun to watch the girders of trestles pass overhead.

Amtrak would not reserve a half-hour connection between the Coast Starlight and Southwest Limited in Los Angeles, so I left the Starlight in Oakland and transferred to an Amfleet-eqipped San Joaquin, where the legroom and bathrooms were more spacious than the Northeast Corridor train. It was a foggy day as we traveled through the valley, and many of the fields had just been plowed—so at times all one could see out the window was brown and gray. I had my New Year’s Day dinner at the Bakersfield Greyhound station, where I later boarded a bus to Barstow. I was only 15 years old when I made this journey, and nowadays Amtrak wouldn’t allow an unaccompanied minor to make such a trip. When I think back on it, I was probably lucky to get off that bus unharmed because there were some pretty creepy characters on board.

The Barstow Amtrak station was an old, closed building with a very dark platform. But there were a few other people waiting for a tardy Southwest Limited, so the time passed quickly enough. By then on the trip, I spent almost all my time on the train in the lounge car for conversation and card games. Also, the thick cigarette smoke had a stimulating effect. I slept very little on the whole trip back. The scenery in Arizona was beautiful and I was surprised to see volcanic cinder cones that looked like something right out of Hawaii.

In Kansas City, I was deposited on a cold, dark, subterranean platform to wait for the National Limited, as there was no access to the station. In those days, there was a through sleeping car from Los Angeles to New York. The smoking coach on that train had the fewest seats I have ever seen in a coach, with a glass divider in the middle and huge bathrooms. In the lounge car, there was an interesting assortment of hard-core drinkers, army inductees heading for basic training, and Amish who wouldn’t play cards but were interesting for conversation and ceaseless knitters. As we crossed the Mississippi river, the lounge car attendant stopped serving alcohol but lowered the blinds halfway for the benefit of the “red eyes.”

Later in the evening, I was sitting in coach as we were jolted by an emergency brake application. The train had hit a car on the tracks. Some of the inductees hopped off the train while we were stopped and stole a case of beer. But there is no escaping the law on Amtrak—in Indianapolis, the train was met by MP’s who put a hasty end to the bandits’ military careers.

The next morning as we passed through mountains of Pennsylvania, I had my only meal of the whole journey in the dining car. It was classic railroad French toast, and I will never forget it. I was then on to New York, and from there took what by that time seemed like a quick hop up to Boston. I was actually a couple hours late getting back to the school, and had a few stern words form the Rector, but it was worth it!
 
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Such great memories! I took the train west to college at the University of Utah in 1968, not Amtrak yet. My Dad took me from northern Vermont up to Montreal, and put me on a train that went via Detroit to Chicago, where I caught the California Zephyr to SLC. I went coach all the way, and I did love the dome car! I remember it was hard to find a free seat there. I have only one or two photos from the trip, and I really don't remember what I ate. You have such wonderful recall!
 
Thank you for your report of the 70s. I remember taking that through sleeper via Kansas City in 1977 New York to Flagstaff. I now live in FLG and am a National Park volunteer at one of those cinder cone volcanoes, Sunset Crater. That's way I tell people; our lava flow does look like Hawaii, but with different plants and trees. At least the smokers now are relegated to stepping off the train and not make the non smokers choke.
 
I have a friend who was a student in the bay area in the 60's (probably just a smidge before Oregon Pioneer headed west) and she talked about the student fares and long ride home to Chicago on what I guess was the California Zephyr. After the first two trips she didn't catch the train bug and would have flown if she could have afforded it (probably influencing her later decision to join the airline industry - plus it was the jet age and her desire to travel).

More along the lines of Maglev's reminiscing, I will share a romantic Thanksgiving travel story. My downstairs neighbors growing up were originally from Utah. They'd met as kids (their sisters were friends iirc) and not remembered each other. He came to Chicago to do graduate studies and she ended up in NYC after teaching school in Montana or Wyoming but wanted a more interesting, urban life. Anyways, back in those days (this'll come to a shock I'm sure) - the late 30's - one took the train home for Thanksgiving and had to change trains in Chicago. Their sneaky sisters thought they should meet. It was suggested to him, "meet her in the station so she isn't alone," which he dutifully did, however, his sister had neglected to tell him which station. He dashed around between them and finally found her. A pleasant time was apparently had by both. This led to more and longer meetings at the stations and eventually a proposal...
 
Thank you for your report of the 70s. I remember taking that through sleeper via Kansas City in 1977 New York to Flagstaff. I now live in FLG and am a National Park volunteer at one of those cinder cone volcanoes, Sunset Crater. That's way I tell people; our lava flow does look like Hawaii, but with different plants and trees. At least the smokers now are relegated to stepping off the train and not make the non smokers choke.
But what about Wupatki!!!!
 
I do visit Wupatki and take houseguests there ( Caravanman was one of them ) but for over 3 years have been stationed at Sunset Crater. I also do evening programs in campground amphitheater in the summer, and tomorrow will be with visitors atop the ski chairlift at Arizona Snowbowl.
 
I do visit Wupatki and take houseguests there ( Caravanman was one of them ) but for over 3 years have been stationed at Sunset Crater. I also do evening programs in campground amphitheater in the summer, and tomorrow will be with visitors atop the ski chairlift at Arizona Snowbowl.
Hee hee hee... I've been to both (my parents have a lot of photos from the 60's of climbing Sunset Crater when that was allowed) on the way to Grand Canyon. I inherited my soft spot for that area from them.
 
Well, here's my volcanic and National Park history. Growing up in Hawaii, I felt I had a good understanding of the forces that had built and eroded the landscape. It was all very visible--we visited Kilauea while Mauna Ulu was erupting in 1972. Over the years, I visited Kilauea several times, including once on a University of Hawaii geology field trip, where I saw several "secret" geological features. Later, I would run the "Kilauea Volcano Wilderness Marathon" twice. My family watched the iconic palm trees at Kalapana black sand beach burn from an encroaching lava flow, as "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" played on the radio.

Haleakala National Park was in my back yard. My first trip through the crater was hosted by the Park Superintendent, who was good friend of my farther's Dad did the 13-mile hike with a wooden leg. I ran the 36.2-mile "Run to the Sun" from sea level to the 10,023-feet-high summit of Haleakala four times, and was Race Director twice. Then when my first wife passed away, I moved in with a long-time friend who was the Manager for the Hawaii Natural History Association at Haleakala National Park. She lived at 4,000-feet elevation on Maui partially because it was a short commute to the Park Headquarters at 7,000 feet. But living with her, I also learned how much I enjoyed cooler weather than sea level in Hawaii, and soon we moved to Orcas Island in Washington and got married.

Where I live now, we rely on Washington State Ferries for transportation to the mainland. There is only one supermarket on the island, and we go to the mainland about every four months to stock up our freezer from Costco. But the ferries do not connect with the twice-daily Cascades trains in nearby Mount Vernon, and there is also a lack of safe parking at the station. Thus, my train trips have been very scarce over the past decade.
 
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Touché ! I'm fascinated by your history! Four years ago in the winter of 2011-12 I was a volunteer ranger at Hawaii Volcanoes and the last three weeks, with the assistance of some of the park staff and volunteers, I arranged a nature walk around Mauna Ulu and ran a total of 17 of them. It is what I am most proud of as a tour guide. Unlike you, I did not participate in any athletic events!
 
In going through some old papers, I found the itinerary for this trip. I processed the Rail Pass purchase and ticket issuance through this agency, as required by the school, and remember that the tickets were hand-written.


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Here's the two photos I have from this trip, one of (I think) Indiana and another of from the Pecos River High Bridge:

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Also, this is a shot of the rail accommodations in the 1890's:

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From August Hecksher, St. Paul's: The Life of a New England School, New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1980, p. 169.
 
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