Train. Keep Coming Down the Track
I did not properly appreciate the wonder and beauty of train travel until my husband and I moved to Virginia in 2013. In Ohio—where we spent most of our lives—public rail transportation is marginally available. Yes, it is possible to take Amtrak‘s Capitol Limited from Cleveland to Chicago, but the train leaves Cleveland’s downtown Memorial Shoreway Station at 2:59 in the morning, arriving in Chicago’s Union Station at 7 am (for a mere $96...with the “senior discount”). It is the same situation heading east toward Pittsburgh: Middle-of-the-night boarding after driving an hour into the heart of Cleveland.
Who needed it? Not me. Not my husband. Not us.
As to other rail travel—light rails or subways—nothing is available in Northeast Ohio. Cars—check. Bikes—check. Planes—check. Buses—check. The always available option of walking—check. But no passenger rail travel.
And then we moved to Virginia, where we began to take the Amtrak (from either Charlottesville or Culpeper) into Washington, DC, where the train would arrive and pause at the strikingly beautiful Union Station. Having arrived in DC, we maneuvered our way around by taking the Metro rail system. The Red Line. Blue Line. Orange Line...stops at Gallery Place—Rosslyn—L’Enfant Plaza—Pentagon— Smithsonian—with dozens more available. We downloaded apps (Amtrak as well as DC Metro) and plotted destinations like a couple of seasoned pros.
I began to travel for work to San Francisco and New York City—destinations that became a study in figuring out the rail systems. Between BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) and CalTrain, California travel was a snap. NYC also was relatively easy—Amtrak into Grand Central Station and then the subway.
Feeling a little footloose and fancy free, my husband and I decided to book a vacation in which we flew to Sacramento to spend a few days with family and then traveled north then east by Amtrak. First we boarded in Sac to Portland, where we stayed a couple of days. With the Amtrak Station conveniently located in the heart of the city, we stashed our minimal luggage to the (walkable) hotel and then meandered around the city for hours (hel-LO Powell’s City of Books!). From Portland we traveled to Whitefish, Montana. The tiny station is a traditional “whistle stop”—perfect in that old west kind of way (with Glacier National Park within spitting distance).
Whitefish to Wisconsin was a lengthy, 28-hour trek that was made more comfortable with the “roomette” accommodations on the train. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner in the dining car introduced us to dining companions who were strangers but were always interesting. There were the older gentleman who was taking his wife, via train, to the Mayo Clinic for treatments...the young oil pipeline worker returning home for a brief visit...the California couple whose political leanings matched ours...the two widows traveling together for the fun of it...and others.
Madison, Wisconsin was fun, but Chicago was even better. We disembarked in the city, took an Uber to our boutique hotel, and then walked ourselves to exhaustion. Meeting three of our most favorite family members was a bonus. And then it was Chicago to Cleveland, arriving home at 5:30 am.
That trip cemented what we already felt—that train travel is easier, more relaxing, and lots more fun than driving or flying to a destination. We saw more country—met more people—and enjoyed each other’s company in unexpected and happy ways.
My husband and I have now returned to Northeast Ohio to live. We have all endured more than a year of the COVID-19 Pandemic and accompanying lock down. And, as I write, I can hear a freight train whistle outside my window, and it is that sound—more than anything else—that makes me long for those days when we boarded a train and headed...somewhere. Anywhere.
I realize that I want to hit the road again, but I don’t want to take to the air or fight traffic on a highway.
I want to take a train.
I want to sit in my seat—feet propped up—to watch trees, hills, cities, small towns, and fields pass by the big windows. I want the train to grind to a halt while I drag my overnight bag from the upper luggage compartment and then get off. I want to stand on the platform for just a few seconds while the train begins to move forward again. I want to enter through the backside of the station, emerging from the front and to someplace new.
I want to take a train...
