#19 Homeward Bound ~ Train Number 14, The Coast Starlight

 February 26 – 27, 2022

Once we got clear of the city, the hills were rolling and green.  With the morning sun streaming in the window, my early morning began to catch up with me.  I piled three pillows in the corner of the couch, wrapped Amtrak’s silky blue blanket around me, and curled up with a Mitford audiobook.  

I dozed off and on, and when I woke up, there was the Pacific Ocean just beyond my window.  We were following the highway, so all along, there were little campgrounds.  One was just numbered parking spaces along the side of the asphalt.

The Pacific Ocean

The Pacific Ocean, North of LA

View From Bedroom C, on the Coast Starlight

My artisan grilled cheese was all but ignored as I joined my fellow diners trying to capture the beauty of the view through smudged windows and reflections as we bumped along the tracks.  

View from the Coast Starlight Diner

Rolling Hills and Pacific Ocean, as Seen from the Coast Starlight Diner

With a nap and a good meal behind me, I sat in my cozy room, wrapped in a blanket, listening to "Home to Holly Springs", as the unparalleled splendor of God's creation slid by my window.  Whether the expanse of gray-blue water, the white foaming surf, dark, rocky cliffs, or bright yellow splashes of flowers, it was a veritable feast for the eyes. 

Eventually we pulled away from the ocean and moved inland.  Instead of rolling seas, there were rolling green hills, dotted with wildflowers, cattle, and vineyards. 

I walked the platform in San Luis Obispo for a bit as we had a longer break due to a shift change.  It was quite chilly out.  I recalled the time many years ago when I had taken my two youngest kids on the Coast Starlight.  San Luis Obispo was the destination I picked, just because I found the name enchanting.  We toured an old mission church during our short stay there.

The Coast Starlight, at San Luis Obispo

Peaceful, Rolling Hills of California

Vineyard, and Velvety Golden Hills

Oil Donkeys at Work

Newly Sprouted Crop Beneath Gray Evening Skies

Clouds moved in, so the afternoon slipped into evening, and the sun set with little fanfare.  For my last dinner on the train, I had the salmon with ancient grains and splurged by taking a cheesecake back to my room. 

Salmon with Ancient Grains, and Green Beans with Parisian Carrots

Amtrak Cheesecake with Fresh Berries

I had been having trouble with my room being very cold.  Steve, my attendant, had tried to adjust it, but when I got back after dinner, I found it to be still very chilly.  So, I flagged down Steve again and he did what any self-respecting repairman would do, he put strips of duct tape over the ceiling vent.  That, and with the help of an extra blanket, and I was asleep before 9:00.

Sunday – I came fully awake to the smell of brewing coffee.  Making my way down the hall I saw a paper cup inverted on the spigot of the percolator, with tendrils of fragrant steam emitting from the top.  Back in my room I pulled back the pleated blue curtains to reveal complete darkness blanketing the land.  

Despite the click, clack, clank, and squeal of the train, I could sense the silence of the landscape we were travelling through.  By 5:30 I figured that the coffee had to be done so I made my way back down the hall.  Removing the cup, I drew a strong dark cupful. Keeping all the lights in my room off, I piled three plush pillows next to the window and sat, taking in the dark-shrouded peace beyond the glass. 

The sky began to lighten as I made my way down to breakfast.  Wending our way through the Cascade range, we were now above the snowline.  The morning sun broke through the scruffy pines, and snow lay scattered on the ground.  

It was very quiet in the dining car also, with only a few other sleepy-looking people up so early.  After my cheese omelette with a side of grits, I had my bed made up.  Leaving the bed down is tempting, but the way that the rooms are designed, there are just three inches between the bed and cabinet.  If a person lacking lithe, slender legs, plans to go in and out more than a time or two, that can get rather tiresome.  However, the movement of a train is very conducive to napping so soon I was stretched out on the couch with a pile of pillows and my Mitford book playing very softly.  Knowing the stories so well, I can always tell how much I’ve dozed by what I’ve missed. 

When the movement of the train, and the pressure in my ears let me know that we were wending our way through the mountains, it was the end of my nap.  I pulled out the granola bar that I had grabbed in the Chicago lounge, and then did something unheard of at home…I poured myself a cup of late-morning, fully caffeinated coffee, and sat by the window to enjoy the wintry landscape.  I may not sleep well tonight due to consuming caffeine that late, but I’ll treasure the memory.

I love the feel of the train as we wend our way through the mountains, and multiple tunnels.  The pull, the sway, and the braking, are somehow soothing, especially when one isn't in the driver's seat. 

Rain on the window let me know that we were chugging closer home.  Gray skies, low-hanging clouds, and numerous bodies of water that I gave up trying to identify.  All signature Pacific Northwest.

But nothing says home for me like a freight train full of logs and lumber, as seen through a rain-shot window.  Though this had been an amazing trip, I was seriously feeling the pull of home.

My little roller bag was already zipped and back down in the luggage rack by the time the Steel Bridge came into view, and as we started across the railroad bridge,  I buckled on my backpack.

The Steel Bridge over the Willamette River, Portland

Burlington Northern Railroad Bridge, Portland, OR

My attendant, Steve came and saw me all loaded and ready, asking if he could take my bag down.  He hadn't been the most attendant attendant that I'd had, so was chagrined when I said I'd already hauled it myself.  He assured me that we still had lots of time to enjoy the ride, but that he'd come up and get me when it was time to disembark. 

Broadway and Fremont Bridges over the Willamette River

The stop in Portland is quite long as there is a shift change.  I just sat in my room looking out the window at the rain and the little doves weathering it out the best they know how.  

                                       And then, at last, we made our slow way across the mighty Columbia River.

Columbia River, Interstate Bridge

By the time the Vancouver Amtrak station hove into view, I was downstairs, bag in hand, and waiting by the door.  Happy tears came to my eyes when I saw my daughter and grandkids waiting in the rain for me.  We slid way past the depot, and stopped with the sleepers 100 yards down the track.  But alas, Steve did not come to open the door.  The stop in Vancouver is only four minutes long.  If you don't get off, you don't get off. Finally, in the nick of time, Steve came dashing down the stairs and said that he'd lost track of time.  Bully for him, I nearly got hauled off to Kelso.  I thanked him with an appropriately sized tip, and got out of the way so the train could chug north without me.  I was home.  And as my dad would say, "All's well that ends well!"

As a postscript, I want to say that God is always good.  That's what He is.  But I love it when He shows me not only the beauty of His creation, but new ways to trust in Him, through fog, fear and other things that come into my path during my travels.  I wouldn't travel without Him by my side.