#18, The Southwest Chief ~ Chicago to Los Angeles

 February 24 – 26

At 2:00 the announcement for my train was called so I reclaimed my luggage, zipped up my parka and headed back out into the cold.  My train, #3, The Southwest Chief, was waiting on track #16.  The door to my sleeper car was way, way down the train.  Toni, my sleeping car attendant, greeted me, and directed ne upstairs to Room C.  Once again, I had a bedroom, so plenty of room to spread out my things and take a nap if needed.   We waited in the yard for a while as they had some kind of engine problem to deal with.  By the time we pulled out, light, frolicking snowflakes were just beginning to whiten the tracks.

 

Chicago Union Station, Railyard

Midwest Farm in Winter's Grip

At dinner I discovered that there were two other single women aboard, traveling separately.  They sat on opposite sides of the aisle from each other and facing the rear of the train.  I always face forward, so I felt like I had two people staring at my while I ate.  I enjoyed the fresh roses on the table and tried to read my book while I ate my salmon dinner.

 

Fresh Roses in the Chief Dining Car

Friday - We slipped through Illinois and Missouri during the night, and then the sun weakly rose behind the train as I awoke somewhere in western Kansas. 

Kansas Sunrise

Vast gray furrowed fields awaited the warmth of spring. Flocks of birds swirled over frozen ponds, and small deer kicked up plumes of dust around their hooves as they dashed away from the train.  Miles and miles of seemingly uninhabited land, punctuated by the occasional rusting piece of equipment, a windmill, and even a few small oil donkeys.

We lumbered on, ever westward, slicing through small, sleeping towns with whistle wide open.  The last stars winked out, and a slice of crescent moon hung pale in the winter morning sky.

After having a couple cups of coffee provided by the percolator down the hall, I walked down to the dining room for breakfast.  It was delicious, but certainly not a light meal.  The croissant came back to the room with me, along with some jam, for a late morning snack.  I’m a slow eater any meal, but especially for breakfast.  Richard, the dining car attendant seemed to have time on his hands after the rest of the diners left, so he sat down at an adjacent table to me and chatted.  He has been with Amtrak for 33 years!  

 

Extra Cheesy Omelette, with the Best Grits

After breakfast, I took advantage of my ensuite shower.  About the time I got dressed, we had a brief stop in La Junta, CO that we were allowed to get down from the train for a couple of minutes.  It sure was chilly with wet hair.  We have pretty much ridden through freezing countryside this entire trip, though some areas had little or no snow. 

Toni, Sleeper Car Attendant

I had a late lunch due to a malfunction in the intercom system.  They always assign lunch and dinner times so that everyone doesn’t come at the same time, and you are to wait until your time is invited.  Scenery continued to change as we went further south into Colorado, and then down into New Mexico.

 

Old Telegraph Pole and Tumbleweeds

Colorado Peaks

Low Hills of Southeastern Colorado

Raton, NM

Lunch and dinner always include dessert.  They have a choice of flourless chocolate torte, cheesecake, or carrot cake.  They are all superb, and very difficult to say no to.  I compromise and take one back to my room along with a cup of decaf.

Amtrak Carrot Cake

From late morning, to nearly bedtime, we traveled through New Mexico, moving almost straight west, always staying in the northern half of the state.  

Attractive Depot at Las Vegas, NM

Lone Windmill on the Plains of New Mexico

Low, Rolling Hills of New Mexico

It kind of surprised me to see more snow as we went further south.  After traveling through so much brown, the red dirt and rocks were a striking contrast to the white snow, and the green of the scrub pine.

Ruins of an Adobe Home, New Mexico

Charming Depot in Lamy, NM

On the outskirts of Albuquerque, NM, the homes were quite shabby.  Many communities were all random trailers and shacks.  Some had dirt roads for their main streets, and I didn’t see landscaping anywhere.  Just dirt, gravel, or cement slabs in place of lawns.  I’m assuming that the cost of irrigation in such a hot climate would play a role in that, but it was such a contrast to my home area. 

At Albuquerque we were allowed to get off for a 30-minute stop.  Here the crew would change, and the train would take on fuel and water.  We were given casual directions to a shopping area, but I somehow got it wrong so just turned around and came back to the train.  I didn’t need anything from a store anyway.  Albuquerque itself was a big city with fairly tall buildings and an attractive depot and bus station.

 

Albuquerque Amtrak Station

In addition to Amtrak and Greyhound, there was also a local train line.  It was impressed with the colors and designs.  They seemed to take a lot of pride in the appearance of their trains.  It looked like there was some type of train washing machine on the platform. 

 

While we were waiting there, someone quickly washed the exterior of all the windows on our train.  I had always wondered if that gets done, as they seem quite filthy.  This is the first I’ve seen it done, so perhaps it’s not done often.  

Giving the Windows a Wash

The sun set low and pretty, while  was eating supper, but it was difficult to get a good picture with all the reflections in the dining car.

In the evening we slipped into Arizona, and with few stops and cruising straight west, we made it through the state in record time, entering California, just below the tip of Nevada, at around midnight.

Saturday morning – After a short “twilight sleep”, the kind where you feel you never slept, I was awakened by Toni’s soft greeting over the intercom at 5:00 am, “Good morning, good morning, ladies and gentlemen.  This is your first breakfast call.  Breakfast will only be until 6:00 this morning, so if you want to eat, come on down.”  I had no intentions of having breakfast that early and had a granola bar in my bag ready to eat later, but since I couldn’t sleep anyway, I figured I might as well.  The sun was a narrow band of golden light behind the southern California mountains, by the time I sat with Railroad French toast and coffee in front of me. 

 

California Sunrise

The landscape had transitioned to palm trees and wide freeways by the time I was back in my room for the final two hours of my journey from Chicago to LA.  All trace of snow was gone, and hills were clad in green.  

As we rattled along, with the morning glare on the windows, it was difficult to take pictures, so I’ll just record my observations.  Compared to the scratched-out existence of the homes bordering the tracks in New Mexico, many homes I saw this morning bespoke wealth and comfort.  Even trailer courts were nicely landscaped, and most cars were shiny, parked in driveways, and sitting pretty on all four wheels.  We also cruised past expansive lots of truck cabs and trailers.  Some appeared brand new, and others used.  There were also large lots of RVs and trailers.   Another interesting sight was a cluster of working oil donkeys, right in the midst of a junkyard.  Here and there in yards, and small orchards, can be seen the bright splashes of citrus trees. We made a brief stop at the beautiful, southwest style San Bernardino Station. 

San Bernardino Amtrak Station

Rolling green hills appeared here and there, and tall shaggy palm trees punctuated the horizon. 

 

We arrived in Los Angeles right on time at 8:00, but coasted very slowly towards the station, causing us to arrive twenty minutes behind schedule.  I knew that I didn’t have a close connection to my next train so wasn’t worried. 

 

Los Angeles on the Horizon

Los Angeles

Detraining, I was met by a Red Cap that loaded me and my bag onto a cart. I wouldn’t have minded the walk to the station after being on the train so long, but apparently, he was taking all the sleeper car passengers to the Metropolitan Lounge.  Unlike the lounge in Chicago, where you can come and go at your leisure, by flashing a pass, L.A. has a very controlled lounge.  You have to buzz at a locked door, show your ticket through the window, and then be let in to have it scanned.  Then your bags are checked into a locked room.  If you want to come and go, you have to get the lady to let you back in.  I left to find a roll of antacids from a convenience store.  While I was out and about, I took a tour through the old part of the station.  Built in 1939, it projects the southwest theme in a classy and colorful way.  There is a sunny courtyard with tile benches outside of the main waiting room.  The air was fresh, and it brought back memories of being here with daughter Alyssa seven years ago. 

Union Station, Los Angeles

Colorful Stone Floor in the Waiting Room at Union Station, Los Angeles

Leather and Wood Seating, Waiting Room at LA Union Station

Courtyard, LA Union Station

When I finally returned, the drill sergeant aka, lounge attendant, let me back in and said, “Oh, there you are!  I wondered what happened to you!”  My response, “That sure is a busy store!” It’s nice having someone make sure that you get on the right train, but I prefer not to be micro-managed.

When it was time to go, she actually took each of us into the luggage room, one at a time, based on the order that we arrived, and then asked us to line up at the door like kindergarteners.  As she told me to line up, she leaned in and said, “We do accept tips.  If you feel so inclined.”  

Amtrak Memorabilia

For the ride to the trains, I got the same Red Cap driver.  Since there’s just one of me, I sat up front by him.  On the train platform he turned to say something to the passengers behind him and, since the cart was still moving, he almost ran the cart down a flight of stairs. When he turned back towards the front, I silently pointed to the stairs.  He told me that was not supposed to be part of the ride.  We had a good laugh about it, probably because I was so tired, and when he dropped me off, he said I was a good copilot.  I tipped him instead instead of Ms. Drill Sergeant. 

Route of #3 Southwest Chief