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.
After supper, I head back to my room. Actually, it’s a roomette—a little room about 3 x 7 with the corridor on one side and the windows on the other. Two little bench seats face each other. There’s a tiny pullout table, but I don’t pull it out, much. The seats pull out to a recliner, and I do pull those out.
The upholstery and wall coverings are dark royal blue, which makes the room dark, and the lights are barely adequate. I lean back, with a pillow under the small of my back, reading a novel.
Walt, the sleeper man, comes by to ask me when I want my bed turned down. The two seats make into a lower bunk, and an upper bunk pulls down from the ceiling. I’m alone, so I only need the lower bunk made up. I ask him to put out some towels, so I can take a shower, and he says he will.
The roomettes share a shower downstairs. The full rooms have showers and toilets in suite. I can’t afford a full room. I’d like to, but no can do.
I don’t spend a lot of time in the roomette. It’s cozy, but close. One interesting feature: the room doors cannot be locked or even latched from the outside. And frequently, as the train speeds up and slows down, the doors slide open. It’s not unusual to come back to your room and find the door open. Don’t worry, it’s just the rocking of the rails.
The train generally runs between pretty smooth to a little shaky, but sometimes it veers into wobbly or even jerky. When it’s jerky, that interdimensional space between the cars can raise your hackles, as the car behind you lurches left while the car before you lurches right.
I decide to take a quick shower and change into my jammies. The shower room is a small cubicle, with another cubicle for undressing and dressing. Walls are drab gray vinyl. The shower head is on a wand, the water pressure is good, and the water is plenty hot.
I get back to my room in time for Walt to come by and make my bunk. I settle in with a book. The overhead light is really poor, and the reading light casts a glare. I brought a lantern, but it’s in my rolling bag downstairs. To hell with it.
I punch off the lights and close my eyes. First, I punch the call button for the attendant. I don’t want the attendant, but the call button is next to the light switch, so I punch it by mistake. I punched the call button by mistake in the toilet and the shower, too. I felt like a nuisance, but the attendant never came, so I stopped worrying about it.
Soon I notice that the car is repeatedly jerking and bucking, tossing me back and forth in the bed. This doesn’t help my insomnia. We’ve run into some bad track. And we keep running on bad track most of the night. I sleep in short dozes. Finally, about 5:30, I get up and get dressed.
Walt will make up your bed at night and restore your room to a little parlor in the morning.The roomette is a little sitting room by day and a bedroom by night.The shower room is a small cubicle, with another cubicle for undressing and dressing.
RobinCravey 