Story: Taking the Long Way Home

I live in Tennessee. My parents live in Michigan. So late September 2006 I decided to head home for a visit. . . by way of Oregon. I was heading home by train, and taking the longest way possible.

My only memory of train travel was a terrible one. It was early in my life and all I remember is our train being delayed and turning a two hour trip into a six hour hell. However, being the optimist that I am, I was ready to give it another shot. I figured if I was going to take a train trip I would go to the extreme, and travel across the country. I left my car with a friend in Atlanta, Georgia, and hopped aboard the rumbling train.

As soon as I boarded my assigned car, I was a kid in a candy shop. I love new experiences and wanted to take in every aspect of this adventure possible. The seats and aisles were not of the luxurious newness I had imagined they would be based on my movie-inspired stereotypes. They were old, well worn drab grey seats with stretched out pockets on the back for light storage that had obviously not been used in this manner. There was a slight hint of diesel mixed with women’s perfume and hot dogs wafting through the air as I made my way to my seat. I found the origin of two of the three scents when I found my seat. My neighbor was an elderly woman just finishing dinner. This was shaping up to be an interesting leg of the trip.

I do not consider myself an outgoing person, but I made a pact with myself that I would push my comfort level on this trip and actually initiate conversations with people. This was one of the single most important decisions I made on the entire trip. As I was to find out, this creating of community is what train travel seems to be all about. Everyone from conductors to one-stop riders, to the long-term travelers like me were involved in this community and affected each other to a great degree.

The aging woman who accompanied my first leg of travel turned out to be a wonderful Jamaican woman who was deathly afraid of flying and had just come from visiting her only son. We talked about music and dancing and our families. She even offered me part of her dinner. At this point, so early in the trip, I saw just a glimpse of what the remaining five days would hold for me, and I was bursting with excitement. I was thrilled at the thought of meeting new people, learning their stories and why they chose to travel by train.

I rode on seven different trains, traveled over 7,000 miles through 23 states to get home. Of all the trains I rode, my favorite was the west bound from Chicago to Sacramento. This leg was the longest, 50 hours. This train also seemed to have an issue with its temperature, it was freezing at night. It may have been better in a sleeper car, but to save money I was sleeping in my seat, which reclined like a lazy boy. Still, the length and temperature did not dampen my spirit. I made some great friends on this leg. One girl was from Australia, seeing the country for the first time, another was a backpacker heading home to Nevada after hiking in the eastern mountains. We spent much of this leg swapping photos and stories of our travels across the country and for them, the world. I was even able to see my new friend from Australia experience snow for the first time while traveling through Colorado. It occurred to me again that this is what train travel was all about. The staff on the train also facilitated this community. They were very helpful in answering questions and even directing our attention to points of interest with history lessons as we traveled.

I experienced so much of the country through the windows of the train. From rolling desert hills outside Reno, to the sharp peaks of the Colorado Rockies, to snow laden pines in the Pacific Northwest. I even slept in the observation car a couple nights to catch sunset and sunrise over the landscape. The seats weren’t as comfortable, but waking up with a western sunrise streaming through the windows all around me as the desert hills flew past was unforgettable. Almost every city we passed through allowed at least a 15 minute stop for smoking, or in my case train station exploring. Layovers between trains allowed for further city exploration. It was almost sensory overload.

Upon my arrival in Michigan, I resisted the urge to stay in my seat and continue on. Looking back, it would have been faster, and maybe more convenient to travel by plane, but I would have been crammed into a seat next to someone who may not even acknowledge my existence. On the train, I experienced the country with friends and created memories that I will never forget.