Train Travel

These days no-one really thinks twice about jumping on a plane to cross from coast to coast. At least that was the case up until 9/11. In the aftermath of the Twin Towers rail companies reported an upsurge in passenger numbers as people sought train travel as an alternative to the skies.

The train is certainly popular as the first class accomodation is already booked out and we can only book a standard sleeper cabin for our continental oddessy.

Arriving at Orlando station the financial plight of the train companies is easy to spot. The station built in a mission style must have been quite a sight in its day but now looks more like the down at heel sort of place you might find in former colonies. However the train soon puts those thoughts out of our heads. The blaring of huge horns heralds the entrance of the beast, full throttle diesels pulling a huge train of shiny aluminium carriages. The train squeels to a halt and we climb aboard to meet out first problem. Just how do we get our luggagem and ourselves into the tiny cabin? A bit of manouvering later and everything is stowed away, just, and the train pulls out. We have three nights to pass in this room and the two single cots that convert from the seats and walls look uninvitingly narrow.

Like most train journeys ours starts with the less than beatific suberbs of Orlando passing by but after a short while the industrial background gives way to fertile agricultural land of Florida. Orange groves interspersed with fields of crops paint a patchwork of green across the landscape.

A quick tour of the train reveals the dining car, several coaches full of seats for those less fortunate than ourselves and a cafe/bar with a fully glazed observation deck above it. Having booked for dinner we settle into the bar with a couple of cocktails and get to know some of our fellow train travellers. These we find are a mixture of tourists and people travelling for their work.

Darkness falls and we retire to our cabin to find that the staff have been in and pulled down the beds. Both are made up with crisp, clean linen and we climb in. Movement is fairly restricted and we wonder how some of the more 'well built' Americans get on. Sleep comes slowly due to the rumble and rattle of the train tracks coupled with the regular blaring of the horns as we roar through whistle stop train stations and level crossings. Sleep finally claims us and we awake to find ourselves still on time and in Louisiana with a five hour scheduled stop in New Orleans to look forward to.

We stretch our legs in New Orleans and then re-embark on the train for the second leg of the journey. This is the deep South and we pass by the cotton fields that this part of the world is so famous for. The train glides through old swamp areas and forests to make you think of the trials and tribulations that must have beset the builders of this railway. Hour after hour passes and the bar again gets our custom as we relax and chat with our new found friends. Several of them freely admit that prior to 9/11 they would not have considered doing this journey by train but nowdays just do not wish to go into the air. Eventually Louisiana gives way to the Lone Star state and we watch the sun go down on Texas. Such is the size of this state that we go to sleep in it and hours later awake still in it on our way to El Paso. The train breakfast consists of the full works in American proportions and as we eat our way throuh the mountains of food we watch the locals waking up in their shacks and trailer parks.

This is cowboy country where men were men and probably the women were as well! The Rio Grande approaches although darkness makes it impossible to see. The lights of Houston mark it's place though. Time has been lost somewhere (perhaps while we slept) and the train is late getting to El Paso. The staff tell us not to worry as this is a regular occurance due to having to share the single track line with slower freight trains.

Our third night is spent trundling through New Mexico. We can't see much from the train windows but are assured by the ever present staff that it is just more of the same desert that made up most of Texas. This final leg of the train journey takes ten hours (on a good day) but our arrival at Los Angeles is signalled buy mile after mile of urban sprawl. Eventually though the train pulls ito Union Station, the location of so many famous movie scenes. We say our goodbyes, make sure we tip the train staff that have worked tirelessly for us and drag our luggage out to the taxi rank.

Summing up train travel. Enjoyable with a sense of adventure. Stress free. We liked it. Would we do it again? An emphatic yes to that. Also next time we'd make it more of a holiday. Spend a day here and there and just hop back on the train when we were ready.

Train Travel