Why do I ride the rails? First, because it’s the mode of travel that contributes least to the destruction of the natural world. Second, because it’s miles better than the flying torture chambers of the airlines. Third, because it’s much less work than driving. Most of all, because it restores romance to the sense of travel. It’s adventure!
I had a hard time sleeping this trip, going north. My insomnia is unpredictable. My trip going south, crossing different track during the night, I slept well in the roomette. Can’t say much for sleeping in coach: it’s possible.
Think about all those train stations named Union. Remember that President Lincoln, while he was wrestling with a civil war, promoted the building of the first coast to coast track that tied the Union together. We can do it again.
Look for upcoming adventures:
The rolling stock; The tracks; The politics; The funding; The cost; The alternatives.
Providence is about 1600 miles from Austin. By air it takes about five hours. By car it takes about 30 hours. By train it takes about 60 hours. That’s three days and two nights.
Take a look at the route map. First, notice that there is a gap in the network along the Gulf Coast. That section was taken out by Hurricane Katrina. It is scheduled for restoration this year. Something the map doesn’t show is that on most routes, the train only runs once a day, and not fast, either. It’s a skeletal system.
To fly between Providence and Austin can cost: basic economy under $200; first class about $500. To ride between Providence and Austin can cost: coach, under $300; business, up from $300. Here’s the kicker. You’re going to be on the train for two nights. You want a room. A roomette adds about $500 per night, or $1000.
You can compromise by riding coach one night and sleeper one night. That’s what I did this trip. Or, you can fly part way and take the train part way. I’ve done that, riding the Acela to Washington and flying from there. That’s pretty easy, and comfortable—a one-day trip, no overnight.
How about one overnight and a shorter flight?
Here’s something I want to try next. I could fly to Chicago and ride the sleeper from there. I like the crew on the Texas Eagle, and I’d like to see them again. But the tracks have some rough patches. And the dining is decent but not great.
Amtrak pulled all the full service diners for all the trains during covid, or so I’m told. Since then, they’ve restored full service dining to some trains, but not the Texas Eagle.
Or, I could ride the sleeper down to Jacksonville and fly from there. The Silver Star runs from Washington to Florida. And the Silver Star has full dining.
The Crescent runs from New York to New Orleans. If I get off in Atlanta, I can get a direct flight to Austin. Or, I can ride all the way to New Orleans. Then the Sunset Limited to San Antonio and the Texas Eagle into Austin. I don’t know how well the connections match up. I could fly from New Orleans.
The station in Providence is a modest version of the grand stations in Washington and Chicago with high ceilings, a nice concourse, and a café. But the train platforms are downstairs, under the station, and everything down there looks gray with soot and grime.
Providence Station is the reason I had to pick up my bags in Washington and carry them onto the Acela. Providence refuses to provide baggage check service.
The Acela is America’s answer to high-speed rail. It runs from Boston to Washington at speeds up to 140 mph.
The trainsets are fairly new and electric-powered, with leather seats (though gray). The luggage bins above the seats have doors like in an airliner. As with all trains, big windows run down both sides, featuring the outside world rolling by. There’s a quiet car where talking and phone use are forbidden.
The café car is minimal, with seven stools lined up to narrow counters. It’s not a place to linger, though three people are seated on stools working on laptops right now.
As we settle into our seats, I hear the man behind me leaving a voicemail, saying, I’m on the train, and I’ll be making calls for the next several hours…”
It’s irritating. He is as good as his word, making one phone call after another. I turn to my seatmate and comment on being a captive audience to someone’s phone calls. She agrees and says some people don’t understand how rude it is. Our words fall on deaf ears.
I look around the café. It’s four tables, and all are occupied by crew members. It seems on this train, the crew claims the café for their private club, and coach passengers have to eat in the diner, which means they must wait for the first class to finish.
Here the dining is lower than fast food, maybe movie theater food. Microwaved hamburgers, that sort of thing. I line up, order at the counter, and carefully carry my food back to my table in a little paper box. But, in my breakfast box, I also have a nip of vodka and a bottle of orange juice. I’m going to make it.
I sit at my breakfast table, watching the foothills of the Alleghany Mountains roll past. The trees are gorgeous in yellows and oranges. I try to get a few pictures, but many are blurred by the motion,
I’ve moved all my things to the open seats, just outside the diner. I pass through the crew’s café, through the shifting coupling between the cars, and to my seats. I’m feeling pretty ragged after two nights of short sleep.
I think about the train change in Washington. I’m going to have to get my checked bags and carry them to the Acela. I’m a little worried. But, it will work out.
Sunup in the Alleghany foothillsFrom my breakfast table, the passing scene rolls swiftly past.From my breakfast table, the passing scene rolls swiftly past.
The Capitol Limited will take me to Washington, D.C. The train is longer than the Texas Eagle– three or four sleepers and at least as many coaches. Still just one café car.
Riding coach.
I’m in one of the coaches. The seats are comfortable enough for sitting or reclining. They are marginal for sleeping.
When we board, about 6 pm the dining car is closed. The coach attendant says there will be an announcement when the diner opens. After two hours, I walk back to the diner. The cook explains they are busy serving the sleepers first, then they will open to coaches.
At last the café opens at 9:45 pm. I order a hot dog and eat it slowly, reading the news. I make a few notes.
Back in my seat after a quick supper, I lie back and think about sleep. I’m uncomfortable. The head rest meets my head wrong, and my neck bends awkwardly. There are no amenities in coach any more. No heat, no blankets, no pillows. I could bring a blanket and pillow, but that would require another piece of luggage.
I can’t get comfortable. I quickly give up on sleep.
I look out the window into the blackness. I see scattered lights shining down on isolated houses. I’m near Lake Erie. I see moon reflected in wide waters.
I write in my journal. I pull out the ipad and start figuring out alternate train routes, combined train and plane routes.
Eventually I walk back to where there are two open seats together. I lie down across them, squirm around, and fall asleep.
At last, the sun rises. I stretch and drag myself back to the cafe.
Breakfast in the café car on the Capitol LimitedMenu in the café car on the Capitol Limited.
From the pocket device, I see that there is a pub named Dugan’s nearby. I walk east. It’s a pleasant, comfortable place.
A long brick box stretches back from the front window and door. In the front half of the bar, an island bar holds the middle of the space. In back, people sit at tables and chairs. Mia, the barmaid, is nervous on her first day at work. Couple by couple, the bar begins to fill. The sound of talk and laughter fill the air. Mia is busy, animated.
A few months ago in Chicago, I walked north, to Dylan’s. It was more wood than brick.
Dugan’s Pub in the afternoon before the happy hour rush.
We enter the station through the railyard, which is dug under the station in a cavernous enclosure. All the surfaces are raw concrete and steel. They look dirty, except the platform.
Above, the station is a grand old building that management is struggling to maintain. Lofty ceilings curve over a tile hall with comfortable wooden benches. Now I know my way to the Metropolitan Lounge.
I check into the Lounge at the reception desk. I turn right to leave a bag in the storage room. Then back around front and over to the lounge area.
The main room stretches back, and generous side rooms open on each side. An open staircase descends from above. Soft jazz plays.
A refreshment counter offers free snacks and drinks. A cash bar is tucked under the stairs.
People sit at tables, sit on couches, lie on couches. This a place for relaxing.
I have about six hours to spare.
The underground railyard at Chicago Union Station greets passengers with raw concrete and steel.Metropolitan Lounge is a refuge for first class passengers.View from the street entrance looks to a concourse at the train station.Arched windows over a concourse to the rail platforms.Conourse leading to the railyard is broad with a classic look.Passengers all down the underground platform toward the train station.
Austin station is an insult to train riders. This is what you get from a city that gives endless lip service to public transit, but does very little about it. It’s on the edge of downtown, but it’s hidden away up a hard-to find dead-end street behind the YMCA. The station itself is underwhelming, with a small inside waiting room and not even the most basic food services.
As we roll north, the conductor announces the stops. Most are quick. At some, through-passengers are allowed to get off, stretch their legs, and breathe fresh air or have a smoke. The conductor offers a wry caution, “When all aboard is called, enter the train. If you are not on the train when the train leaves the station, you will be left. That’s all right, you can catch the next train tomorrow.”
At Dallas Union Station, I get off to stretch my legs. The trainside walkways are pretty nice, red brick edged by that yellow bumpy caution strip. Little canopies are spaced down the middle. There are several sets of double tracks. If I walk down a way, I can get a look at the station building, brick painted while. A walkway crosses all the tracks and leads to the station, but I don’t want to leave trainside.
At St. Louis Union Station I get off again. The trainside platform is bare concrete with the yellow edge, but it’s clean. The tracks are out in the open air, under the sky. A hulking skyway rises from the platform and crosses other tracks, crosses car traffic, ducks under a raised highway, and disappears.
Dallas Union Station beside the tracks.
Boarding platform at Dallas Union StationPedestrian bridge to St Louis Union Station
RobinCravey 