Out of the blue, Camo Man turned to me last night and said, “I really want to take a train trip with you. Let’s go on the train somewhere.”
We have not known each other long enough for my husband to be aware of how big this moment was, and not just that we finally are at least talking about realistic vacation possibilities.
Because me? I come from train people.
When I was growing up, my grandmother would often take the grandchildren she was raising on the train. We boarded in Pendleton, hoisting bags of food aboard — as if we would starve on what was about a six-hour trip – and carrying books to read. Our destination was always Portland, and it was expected we would breakfast in our seats and read quietly, under the always-strict eye of Nana.
On the train, however, something magical happened to Nana. Within mere minutes, she transformed into a carefree woman who was filled with the joy of travel, doling out sandwiches and Fritos wrapped in wax paper, maybe the extremely rare Twinkie. Cut into thirds, of course, lest my brothers and I get too accustomed to treats.
She would nibble a bit herself (I promise you, I never once saw Nana take more than a few bites at a time. I have no idea when and if she really ate), then shake out the once-hefty Oregonian newspaper.
Our grandmother would settle back in her seat and begin what promised to be a happy couple of hours, devouring political and regional news. And with that, we were free.
Oh, boy, were we free. While Dwight stayed in his seat, content to watch the land slide by mile by mile, my middle brother and I took to the aisles.
Up to the top of the Vista car to act like Lewis and Clark, down through the meal car to be jealous of such cosmopolitan behavior of ordering breakfast in the train, past the closed doors of the sleeping cars, avoiding porters by dodging into bathrooms.
We should have been reported and returned to our grandmother, but that never happened. Life on a train was glorious respite from all ills.
And somehow, a special osmosis has happened and Camo Man feels it, too.
I wish I could call my dad this instant and pick his brain about where to go and how to go about this — he was the trainiest of us all.
But today is the anniversary of his death in 2008, so I am turning to readers in his place. If you have a train story, Camo Man and I want to hear it. Train advice? Bring it on. Best trip by train to take? Yes, please.
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Lets see…first time I was on a train: 8 years old. Seattle to Wolfpoint MT. SICK AS A DOG! Hugged Ralph the whole trip! Second Train ride: From Oradea to Bran, Romania. Age 52. Very nervous. But never got sick, and enjoyed it so much. Wanted to stay forever on it. BUT THE BEST……….The subways of Hungary! HAHA….I could stay on those and get off at every underground stop and never see everything. I have heard that the train ride up around Wallowa is very nice. I wished they would bring back the passenger trains, Cause I would love to ride one from here to Tri-Cities, or pendleton, then get on a bus to get to my destination. Yep….You get tons of exercise that way!
Margot Stewart
Trains!!! I have taken the train from LA to Portland, many times. I am planning a trip from LA to New Orleans in April. I have ordered brochures from the Canadian “Orient Express.” I love train travel…you see things you’d never see, you feel both a sense of calm and relaxation combined with the reassuring sensation of moving forward towards something. I hope you take a train trip soon. It’s lovely!
Jeanne
I loved that train trip from Pendleton to Portland… did it several times when Ara was very young. He always slept the whole way…. heaven! I was so sad when they eliminated that run, though the one from Pasco through the gorge is the same view, from the other side…. still magnificient, just not as convenient. I took the Canadian National by myself, before I was married, from Portland to Toronto to visit a friend…in January…. four days and three nights, sleeping in the seat, because I was a broke college student. It was a snowy, frozen trip (not in the train car!) through the Rockies, of course, but it was wonderful… I had my first glimpse of the Northern Lights from the train window.. it was thrilling. I don’t know how the Canadian trains are now, but they were great in 1972. Wayne and I took the train from Portland to L.A. a few years ago to visit the Getty Museum. It was the first time we could afford a sleeper, (one night/two days) so we didn’t HAVE to sleep sitting up, but it turned out that the top berth is sort of like being in a coffin, you’re so close to the ceiling, and it’s so narrow. I got a little claustrophobic up there, and ended up sleeping in the observation car, where the seats were very comfortable, and I was the only one in the car in the middle of the night. Wayne was fine in the slightly wider lower berth, and we loved having the little compartment to ourselves during the day. We traveled with another couple, who also had their own compartment. We enjoyed the dining car… the food wasn’t bad…. and even watched a movie in the little “Theater” car. They had complimentary wine and “social hour” (with a hosted trivia game… I won an Amtrak mug!) in the dining car for those with sleeper reservations, and believe me, we felt bit out of our league, but very pampered! Yes! Go somewhere by train! And if you can afford it, get the “family” compartment… you’ll have your own bathroom. …the shared ones are adequate, but I’m sure a private one would be well worth it.
Brad M
A few years ago, my mother began her hospice experience after a battle with cancer. My brother in Hood River, OR and I, in Dayton, WA, became her home hospice caregivers in her home in Vancouver, WA. I stayed with my mother during the week and my brother and his wife spent Friday, Saturday and Sunday with her. To save on the cost of gas, I decided to drive to Pasco and take Amtrak to Vancouver. I was raised in the Columbia Gorge and have driven through it hundreds of times. Though I knew it was beautiful, I wasn’t prepared for the beautiful vistas offered from the perspective of of the Gorge from the viewing car. I have fond memories of those weekly trips; a bit of beauty amidst a difficult reality.
