Winter Trek on the Coast Starlight

Seat scarf, Amtrak Coast Starlight Line

The first ripple in the Matrix was an email from Amtrak, notifying me that the original departure time from Oakland, California, was being pushed back two hours due to track work. Instead of leaving at 9:30 pm, we were now leaving at 11:42 pm. For anyone over .... well ... a certain age, this is the difference between being a little tired and comatose.

I had been planning my trip on the Coast Starlight for some three months. I don't often get to the West Coast, so a family wedding presented a rare opportunity to not only see the family, but also to visit a colleague in Seattle. Always eager for a new adventure, I chose the train over air travel for that leg, excited to see parts of the West coast that I by-passed on my Park-to-Park tour.

The Coast Starlight is the Amtrak rail service between Santa Barbara/Los Angeles, California, and Seattle, Washington. The entire route takes a day and a half, leaving around noon from LA and arriving in Seattle at around 11:30 pm the following day. All reports I heard about traveling on the Coast Starlight were glowing. Scenery: spectacular. Accommodations: excellent. A delightful step back into yesteryear with all modern conveniences – including WiFi. In all, anyone who had taken the trip raved about it.

The news of the postponed departure was troubling. I hadn't been entirely happy about sitting alone in the Oakland train station in the evening in any event, and two hours closer to Midnight was off limits for me. On the advice of my cousin, I changed my departure to Martinez, northwest from Oakland, where they would keep me company until the train departed Martinez.

In spite of the late (or rather very, very early) hour, my cousins were kind to offer me dinner and a place on their sofa, after a full day of sightseeing along the coast. Already they had gone well above and beyond normal hospitality requirements for an out-of-town relative.

There were some fifteen people in the waiting room at the Martinez train station when we arrived at 12:15 am. The station was relatively new, with a modern, spacious design. Given the hour, the only signs of life were the sleepy faces of those waiting the arrival of the Coast Starlight. The clerk at the ticket counter gave me the bad news: departure had been pushed back to the ungodly hour of 1:30 a.m. My cousins, whose usual limits of wakefulness expired about four hours earlier, gracefully insisted on waiting with me.

At last, the Coast Starlight pulled into the station and rolled to a stop. Hugs, kisses, and [somewhat relieved] goodbyes all around. I trundled my bags up toward the engine, where an attendant was waving to me. I was the only one boarding in this section. He hoisted my duffel up to the second level of the sleeping car, where my cabin awaited with its seats folded down and made into a bed.

I was exhausted, and crawled into my little nest in my clothes, there being no room to open bags and change into nightclothes. I was too excited to fall asleep for the first hour of the trip. I watched the streetlights and the darkened warehouses glide by through the open curtain. When the lights faded away and there was nothing but blackness outside, I closed the curtain and was finally seduced into sleep by the rolling rhythm.

I woke up about six hours later. The sky was gradually turning a light gray. The eucalyptus trees of the Bay area had given way to dark stands of evergreens. An occasional house or barn appeared in the distance. Then, slowly rising above the trees, a massive snow-covered mountain appeared in the landscape, growing larger and larger with every mile.

I quickly dug in my bag and pulled out the road map I had brought along. I had no idea how far we had gone. A train schedule I picked up at Martinez helped me calculate, based on the elapsed time, that we were somewhere around Dunsmuir, CA. I was looking at Mount Shasta, the second highest peak in the Cascades. Its flattened cone profile reminded me somewhat of Lassen Peak, the volcano in Lassen Volcanic National Park, located just south of our present location. Both are found in the southernmost section of the Cascade Volcanic Arc, which stretches from British Columbia to Northern California. And both are currently “quiet,” but as the sudden eruption of Mount St. Helen's in 1980 proved, that status can change any time.

Mount Shasta, Southern Cascades, California

After Mount Shasta disappeared out of sight, the landscape became less interesting on my side of the train. I ventured into the narrow hallway and rocked my way back through three or four cars to the dining car for breakfast. The car was almost empty at that early hour, with only three tables occupied.

Rather than seating me at my own table, the waiter directed me to a table where two others were already dining. I was later told that Coast Starlight protocol dictates that diners be mixed together, so that they can enjoy the opportunity of meeting new people while aboard. However, it was 7:00 am. My hair was a mess. I was hungry. I was a bit numb from my restless night. And I had slept in my clothes, fergodssake. I wasn't prepared to make cheerful conversation. I admired my stalwart breakfast partner – a woman much cheerier than I who had been sitting in coach since Los Angeles.

Klamath Mountains, Northern California

After breakfast, I settled into a chair in the parlour car, where I could enjoy the view passing on both sides. Alongside, the ground was black with crushed volcanic rock. The Klamath Mountains were off to the west, but between us and the mountain range was a ghostly valley, with pointed black cones popping up from the mists along the valley floor. Somewhere through that valley, the Klamath River threads its way westward, reaching its outlet to the sea. I had overlooked that very spot not long ago, on my visit to the Redwood National and State Park. But that felt a long way from Klamath Falls, where the train had stopped to take on passengers.

Amtrak Station, Klamath Falls, OR

After leaving Klamath Falls, the route turned northwest. The train began its ascent over part of the Cascades toward Eugene, Oregon. It was in this section of the trip that the scenery was to be most spectacular, by all accounts. There wasn't much snow on the ground along the way, although some dirty grey piles lingering at the edges of the parking lots was evidence of earlier accumulation.

Parlour Car, Coast Starlight

As we climbed higher into the mountains, the flat lands gave way to hills thick with evergreen trees. The sky was beginning to darken. It started to snow, a few flakes at first, then more. And more. Soon the air was gray with snow swirling past my window. I stayed in my cabin, turned up the heater, and snuggled under the blanket.

The rumble of the steel wheels grew muffled as the snow piled up on the tracks. Our progress slowed to a steady crawl. Silently we pushed upward, the boughs of the evergreens now weighed down with several inches of new white snow. Occasionally, the storm would let up enough to reveal the landscape – a river gorge, a lake, a canyon that dropped steeply away from the tracks. The train passed through several tunnels through the mountains, each preceded by a concrete arcade that they tell me was to protect the train from being pushed off the tracks by an errant avalanche crashing down the steep slope. Mostly, however, our view was of the spikes of tall, narrow evergreens lining the tracks.

Snow in the Cascades

Finally the snow lifted somewhat, just as a body of water came into sight. The water sat low in its earthen basin, the bare sides angling to the bottom of the channel. For mile after mile, the drying basin continued on. This was Lookout Point Lake, a reservoir impounded by a 1954 earth and gravel-filled dam on the Middle Fork of the Willamette River. The drought that was severely affecting California this year was clearly being felt this far north as well – the reservoir looked only about 30% full.

Lookout Point Reservoir, Oregon

We passed the town of Cascade Summit on our way down to Portland. From there, the mountains smoothed out and were replaced by flat green fields and barns. The snow melted into a heavy rain that continued until we reached Seattle.

Rain north of Eugene, Oregon

Seattle's historic King Street Station marked the terminus of my journey. After all the delays, the track work, the snow, and the rain, we pulled in at 10:30 pm - on time, as per the schedule. As you walk through the waiting room, you can't help but gaze up at the remarkable ceiling, which has recently been freed from an unfortunate drop ceiling.

King Street Station, Seattle, WA (1906). Courtesy of Washington State Dept of Transportation.

The ornate, once-elegant, 1906 station was designed by the noted firm of Reed and Stem (Grand Central Station, NYC). Since the City of Seattle acquired it in 2008, there have been several campaigns to restore the building to its former grandeur. Although there remains a considerable way to go to full restoration, the impressive bones of the work are at least now visible.

As we emerged from the station, a phalanx of Yellow Cabs stood waiting. Within minutes, I was efficiently whisked away to my hotel, thus ending my winter adventure on the Coast Starlight. Memorable, to be sure. But perhaps not a trip I will repeat in this lifetime.

The romantic idea of an overnight journey by train still has its appeal. I encourage everyone to work up his or her own train adventure. However, based on my experience, there may be some benefit to making some teensy weensy modifications to make your trip more appealing:

1. Find a train that does not depart at 1:30 in the morning (it goes without saying); 
2. Get a cabin big enough to have a sink, toilet and room to change your clothes; 
3. Bring your own WiFi hotspot (The one in the parlour car was not working for most of the trip. We were saved only by the kindness of a fellow passenger who let me and six other desperate souls glom off his signal.);
4. Encourage Amtrak to develop better informational materials for its passengers as to what they will see on the trip. Road maps just don't do it. I know, I had one. It was useless. The only helpful details about the actual route taken was gleaned from the names of cities listed on the train schedule. And while en route, there is no time to figure out what you are looking at without a guide.
5. Go in summer.

Happy traveling!

Resources:

“King Street Station [Seattle] Restoration.” City of Seattle [WA], Department of Transportation. Official Website. URL http://www.seattle.gov/transportation/kingstreet.htm accessed January 29, 2012.

“Klamath National Forest.” United States Department of Agriculture, Forest Service. Official website. http://www.fs.usda.gov/klamath accessed January 29, 2012.

Muir, John. “Snow-Storm on Mount Shasta.” Harper’s New Monthly Magazine, Volume 55, Number 328 (September 1877), pages 521-530. Republished on Dan Anderson, Yosemite Online Library. URL http://www.yosemite.ca.us/john_muir_writings/snow_storm_on_mount_shasta/ accessed January 29, 2012.

"Project Info - King Street Station Renovation." Washington State Department of Transportation. Official website. URL http://www.wsdot.wa.gov/projects/rail/kingstreetstationrenovation/ accessed January 29, 2012.

.