February 29 - March 1, 2024
Departing Chicago in the late afternoon, we began this leg of the journey in a northerly fashion, rattling and swaying along the western shore of Lake Michigan. Inland a ways, our view wasn't of the oceanlike lake, but of rural Illinois.
Crossing into Wisconsin in the early evening, the low springtime sun cast a golden glow over Milwaukee. Here we made a brief stop before turning west towards home.
By dinnertime we were midway across Wisconsin. Back to full service dining, I enjoyed my salmon dinner and all the trimmings while the setting sun silhouetted the bleak, wintry landscape.
Settled back into my tiny roomette, I wound my little strand of star fairy lights around the window and read until I fell asleep. The soothing rocking provided a counterpart to the firm, narrow bed, allowing me at least as good a rest as at home.
I woke at dawn and made my sleepy way down to the coffee pot. On the way back to my room I walked to the back of the train. A soft apricot blush was stealing over the eastern horizon, highlighting a frozen landscape.
When I was in Florida a few days ago, I was told that it was unseasonably cool. Here, on the eastern side of North Dakota, it was still very much winter. Frozen sloughs and fields slipped past the windows as the day quietly unfolded.
Late morning I ventured downstairs to take a shower. Despite this being a long route, apparently not many use the shower. I discovered that the car attendant was using this small room for storing big bags of extra towels and boxes of toiletries. Once I'd relocated everything I was able to manage in the remaining tiny space.
Clean, dry and dressed, I enjoyed just standing by the door, looking out over the frozen plains.
What North Dakota lacks in breathtaking scenery, it makes up for with family ties. Both of my parents were born and raised in the state, and we spent every childhood summer visiting there. When conversing, whether naming a person or place, my father always spoke with great emphasis. Thus, when the conductor announced that the next stop was Minot, ND, I heard my father's firm pronouncement of Mi-not, North Da-kota! It was an important place to him, and when I heard we would have time to get off, I knew I'd be getting down. If only to absorb a bit more of my dear dad.
The Minot station looked much as it would have five decades ago when I traveled through on my first ever train trip. The lighted screen juxtaposed oddly with the worn wood of the benches. It was easy to picture the booking clerk in his cozy booth, hunched over, counting out coins on the counter in days of yore. An ancient jade plant reached rubbery arms towards the weak light of a window.
Quiet and uneventful would describe the remainder of the day, as well as the scenery that slid by the windows. Subdued sepia tones sketched out the fields and farms, the tiny towns, the lonely buildings and meandering rivers of North Dakota and Montana.
Late afternoon brought us to a short halt in Havre, Montana. A sign posted near the station shares the interesting saga of how the town got its name. Wikipedia states differently, that the name was taken from Le Havre, France. I'll go with the former as it's much more charming.
Throughout the afternoon, as we clickety-clacked the miles away, we passed under the bright blue bowl of the "big sky country" of Montana, as well as many interesting cloud formations.
During an early supper in the dining car, the golden light of evening cast a broad shadow of our train, and reached across the stubbled fields to the very distant foothills of the Rocky Mountains.
Here, in north-central Montana, sightseeing would drift to a close on this abbreviated winter day. Glacier Park, with its jagged snowy peaks, wildlife and lakes, would be shrouded in darkness on this trip. I would be deep into slumber, and gently rocked side to side, as we moved through the night.
