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19,000kms zig-zagging across the USA and Canada, April/May 2018

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I had connectivity difficulties last night, so couldn’t attach the pix until this morning.

 

I’ve just awoken to find me somewhere south-east of Provo in Utah.

 

And then when I got on line, I had an email from home to tell me Melbourne Victory was 1 - 0 up in the Grand Final game after an eighth minute goal. I checked and saw the game was now in its final minutes, and then got the news that the match was over with the score unchanged. Melbourne Victory is the proud owner of the Toilet Seat!

 

Woo-Hoo goes the horn in celebration.

 

A great start to my Saturday.

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SAC to CHI Train #6 (Part Three) 5 May

 

A Good Start

 

At Saturday awake time I discovered I was stationary near Provo. The sun was yet to appear, but there was some light in the sky.

 

I remembered that it was A-League Grand Final day in Oz, and checked to see if I could obtain a connection. I saw I had an email and guessed it might be from Niki.

 

My previous post detailed what it was all about, and why it gave me a great start to the day.

 

I checked my GPS and saw we were at 2257m and climbing. We came around a tight horseshoe bend snaking left, and I was able to look down and see the part of the track we had previously been on, well below us.

 

Shortly after, we came to a small flat section into which they had packed a number of sidings and cross-overs, presumably to help marshall traffic awaiting the descent or finishing the climb.

 

Just after Colton a small stream appeared to the left of the train, heading in our direction, as clear a sign as you’d ever have that we were now on the descent.

 

Breakfast, and Morning in the SSC

 

I met Jim and Gina at the breakfast table. They were from Sacramento and on their way to Colorado. I mentioned how much I enjoyed their city during my short stay there and we chatted for a while, although, because they were finishing as I joined them, our table-time was brief.

 

I caught up with Carol in the SSC and she told me she’d had a long career in the social work field, both as a practitioner and as a policy-maker. Our conversation covered a wide range of issues relating to social disadvantage, and what policy-settings might work to alleviate it.

 

We celebrated the pioneering work of Andrew Young, the progressive religious bodies, and their peers in Australia such as Charlie Perkins. We celebrated Gandhi for showing the way, and I mentioned those behind the Eureka Rebellion in my new home town of Ballarat whose protests led to universal (male) sufferage in Victoria in the 1860s.

 

Participating in a democracy is the best way to ensure that the democracy is strong. But any challenge to unearnt privilege has to have a political arm as well as a militant one. Neither succeeds without the other, we agreed. Privilege is never ceded without a fight.

 

Carol was concerned that Ken had not yet surfaced, so she went out in search. I can save your worries by skipping ahead an hour or so to let you know I saw them both in the dining car around midday, and Ken was in rude good health. Ken later told me he was just having a lie-in.

 

Once Carol had vacated her seat, Kevin occupied it. He had boarded as I was asleep at Salt Lake City. He worked in the ski industry, including as a Kasborer driver, shunting snow and grooming runs.

 

He was making his way to Ohio.

 

When he realised I was from Oz, he mentioned that he’d worked at Perisher, in NSW, and had lived in Jindabyn, a lovely ski town in the Snowy Mountains.

 

Justin was close by and then had two Kiwis, Robin and Keith, join him. They were from New Plymouth in EnZed’s North Island. They were retired and travelling.

 

The Colorado River and the First Offload

 

Glenwood Springs came into view and we started alongside the Colorado River rapids and recreation area. There were kayakers, rafters, cyclists, and walkers all in view, making the most of their beautiful surroundings and pleasant sunny weather. We started another climb at about 1800m, well above the altitude of the Oz ski-fields.

 

We were holding, in a siding, awaiting the arrival of the west-bound Zephyr, Train #5, but when it arrived, it pulled up alongside us. Again, I did not have my spy ears in, so was not aware until later that we had transferred a sick passenger for conveyance to medical attention back in Glenwood Springs.

 

Once we recommenced, we snaked along the river, with Highway 70 on the other bank for several kilometres, climbing steadily at 45kph, and soon beyond 1900m.

 

An Identification Mystery Solved

 

We had good commentry over the speaker system from one of the conductors. When he ceased his commentry and climbed up to the top level of the SSC, I button-holed him to ask about the loco numbers. I knew we were being pulled by loco #11 as lead, but I wasn’t sure about the second loco. I thought it was #187, but didn’t feel I could report this as fact until I had obtained corroboration from a reliable source.

 

I got confirmation from a highly reliable source in the form of the conductor, who checked his device, and so I can now safely report accordingly. I am now ready for a slot on Anderson Cooper 360.

 

Midday with a Long-Distance Trucker and a Pair of Eagles

 

I decided I should sample the mussels again, and headed for the diner. I was solo until joined by John of South Carolina. John was returning home to Raleigh after meeting up with a friend at Davis. His plan was to fly home from Chicago.

 

He had been a long-distance truck driver, so was happy to experience the train ride as a spectator. We swapped stories about trucking in our respective countries, and he told me of the travails of working in adult learning and moving between being a practitioner to a trainer.

 

I returned to my roomette to catch up with a few things and recharge my personal batteries. After a short while, the conductor alerted us that an eagles’ nest was approaching on the left, on the other side of the river, near Burns. As we neared, it became apparent it was occupied by an adult. Then, as if on cue, as we passed by, another adult glided in to land.

 

How lucky were we to have caught that!

 

Climbing past a Shooting Range

 

The Colorado gorge narrowed until the sides seemed to close in on us, the river, turbulent, below us. As the track curved left and right, through short tunnels here and there, we steadily gained altitude again, topping out on a plateau about 2250m.

 

It was spectacular country. Oh, to have a cab view! People would pay money to sit up front through this section, without doubt.

 

And then, a bit of an unsettling sight for an Aussie. Out my window to the left was an extensive shooting range, in active use as we passed. The firing positions to the targets were pointing away from the train, but within a cricket-pitch length only, with nothing between the train and the shooters.

 

There’s a military firing range by the side of the trainline I take between Ballarat and Melbourne, on the Ballarat side of Bacchus Marsh. It was likely designed for WWII purposes, and may now not even be in use. There’s a huge earth berm between the range and the train line, and the train line is sunken a little as it passes. It would not be possible for an errant shot to hit the train as a result.

 

It’s strange what causes discomfort across cultures. I suspect for most on the train it would scarcely even be noticed. But it was jarring for me.

 

I later found it unsettled another passenger, Connie, from California, who I met for the evening meal, so it wasn’t just me.

 

Fresh Air in Fraser Winter National Park?

 

We were soon in Ganby, then a short time later in Fraser Winter Park for a fresh air stop at the highest station on the line. I don’t often have the chance to breathe 2600m air, given Australia’s highest mountain - Mt Kozsciosko - tops out at a mere 2226m, and our skifields are no higher than 1600m.

 

It was warmer than I thought it’d be, and so I hung around outside until boarding call. I didn’t get a decent shot at experiencing 2600m air because of all the tobacco junkies puffing away and polluting the atmosphere. Why would you go to such a place you will not often experience, and fill your lungs with soot? It always beats me.

 

After that stop, we were still on the climb past a fly fisherman chancing his luck thigh-deep in the Fraser River near Tabernash, then it was announced we were approaching the Moffat Tunnel with its nine minute traverse.

 

To the Other Side and the Second Offload

 

The conductor requested that we not travel between cars through the tunnel, to minimise fumes intake, and there was a bit of a scramble by some to take their positions. We soon emerged, at 2817m, and immediately commenced the long descent into Denver.

 

For the first time in a long time, we were travelling in the direction of the rivers, not against them. We were over the divide.

 

Fore-advised by AU contributors, I remained in my left-side roomette for the run down into Denver. It was a spectacular descent, with wide arcs, and a beautiful and elegant series of left and right sweeps as we neared the level of the plains, the train almost doubling back on itself as it lost altitude over a short distance.

 

We reversed into Denver. My spy-ears told me that a passenger was going to be offloaded into the capable hands of the local constabulary for unbecoming behaviour - specifically that another passenger had said that the to-be-detrained passenger had threatened to kill her.

 

I reckon that would result in an interest from the local coppers, so I was given advance warning that there would be platform welcoming party before I jumped off to have a look at the remodelled Denver station.

 

I passed by the various parties’ discussion as I walked to the station building, and it was still going on as I returned.

 

Evening with Three Californians

 

My time for the evening meal began before the Denver departure time, so I was seated in a stationary train, subsequently joined by Russ and Connie, who boarded at Martinez, and were travelling to Omaha.

 

Simon joined our trio a short time later.

 

Simon was on a work trip from silicon valley to Ann Arbor via Chicago. He makes the trip regularly as he prefers not to fly. He works in cyber-security. He was unable to secure a roomette from Emeryville, but had nabbed one from Denver. His first night was a sleepless one in coach.

 

Russ and Connie had been burnt out of their Santa Rosa home in the fires of last year, and were still to rebuild. I mentioned my fire involvement with the Victorian State Government regional and rural public land fire-fighting organisation, and so I had an insight into their circumstances.

 

As in many catastrophic wildfires, they had lost everything, although had escaped with their lives, one vehicle, and their two dogs.

 

That’s a story, sadly, more common than we think, especially in fire-prone areas like mine in SE Australia, and those of the NW corner of the USA, and western Canada. Our specialist fire-fighters are often exchanged between us in our respective off-seasons for such catastrophic events, and Connie remembered she’d heard of an Aussie contingent at the Santa Rosa fires.

 

I’d been engaged during our fire season as an additional resource in the Victorian State Emergency Coordination Centre for a number of those extended fire operations over the years. Many departmental employees whose normal jobs were elsewhere, like mkne, were rostered on to assist when there was a big fire on. You never once forget there are lives at stake, and the consequences of a badly-judged strategy can be deadly, to the public and to fire-fighters.

 

We toasted our good fortunes that we had survived, even although possessions had been lost.

 

It was then time to put an end to another day, to fall asleep in one state and wake up in another - something I’ve often done in a figurative sense, but now rejoice in the fact that I am currently doing it in a geographic sense as well.

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Not the Rio Grande - early morning near Provo post-14273-0-69229400-1525601749_thumb.jpeg

 

Early morning sun on a cliff face in Utah post-14273-0-94611500-1525601932_thumb.jpeg

 

Agricultural land with a stunning backdrop post-14273-0-13403600-1525602102_thumb.jpeg

 

Racing along the Green River post-14273-0-34643100-1525602197_thumb.jpeg

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Moonless Kayaking on the Colorado Riverpost-14273-0-98410200-1525602440_thumb.jpeg

 

Waving to the Train after a day on the slopes at Fraser Winter National Park post-14273-0-60579000-1525602633_thumb.jpeg

 

On the ascent along Beaver Creek to cross the Continental Divide (for scale, there is a wrecked car pictured here which failed to take the bend on the road at the top of the pic) post-14273-0-20451800-1525602840_thumb.jpeg

 

Denver station, repurposed post-14273-0-96523800-1525602996_thumb.jpeg

 

New train driver joins to take us east from Denver post-14273-0-59397900-1525603069_thumb.jpeg

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More great commentary, and photo's! It is fascinating, listening to your description of everyone's 'life-story' you have met while dining. Where else, but a long-distance train journey, do people open up so freely, to total stranger's? Sadly, that era may be coming to an end, under the current reduction in full dining car service going on...

 

Looking forward to your next 'installment'.... :)

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SAC to CHI Train #6 (Part Four) 6 May

 

Day Last

 

I awoke just before sunrise to a still train. I checked my gadgets and saw were were just out of Omaha. I had almost slept through all of Nebraska.

 

I posted my last report as I saw we had connectivity again, and then the pix. I was about to make contact with gome as it was early evening there, but suddenly found I again had no service.

 

Before rising, I thought I would sort through some photos, and hope I would be back in a service area soon. But it was not to be, even when we passed by some settlements along the way which surely would have provided a connection.

 

It then dawned on me - what if there was a signal, but I was not being connected because I had used up all my bandwidth. If that were so, and the last of it had been my pix to the forum, rather than a discussion with Niki, I would likely have some splainin to do once I reached Chicago.

 

The more we travelled east, and the more towns we went through, the more certain it was that this was the explanation. I started to practice my apologetic face.

 

(Spoiler alert: connectivity was re-established near Ottumwa, and I had plenty of BW left, so it was just reception issues. I did not need to attempt the apology face, which was good, because it has never been convincing anyway, especially to Niki.)

 

The trees were in an earlier stage of emergence from winter, bare of bud and only becoming slightly leafier as we got closer to Chicago.

 

There were patches of mist on the newly-tilled fields waiting to be burnt off by the new day. We were now in grain country.

 

Our altitude had dropped to 360m and would fall throughout the day.

 

 

Poor Natalie

 

I encountered my first dud table at breakfast. I was the third and last seated at a table already occupied by two people, sitting opposite each other, so going by the Amtrak seating protocols, they were not a pair.

 

I introduced myself and met Natalie, a young woman of university age and demeanour, and Tony, a bloke likely older than me, and dressed in farmers clothes.

 

Tony scarcely engaged, and showed no curiosity about Natalies or my stories. Rather, he went into monologue territory, with poor Natalie, sitting opposite, his captive audience. He barely looked at me, or registered my presence.

 

It transpired that Tony was a decades years-of-service truck driver. Perhaps his discussion style was a relief valve for all that time with just himself for company behind the wheel. No matter the topic, you are always endlessly interesting to yourself in your own cab.

 

Poor Natalie, who for sure had interesting tales to tell of her own, and views worthy of being exchanged, was relegated to being just a cipher. In her polite north American ways, which I often see exhibited by women here, she was disinclined to tell Tony to put a sock in it.

 

Her defensive mechanism was to insert a Gosh!, or Wow! at various times in Tonys bar-room philosophic meanderings, perhaps in an attempt to stave off wanting to stab herself in her ears with a fork.

 

Like many young woman, she had already worked out how to politely go along with a bore, whilst all the time surrupticiously searching for the handiest exit.

 

Tony was not interested in finding anything out about either of us, preferring instead to give us the wisdom of his cynical views about anyone who does, or thinks, differently to himself.

 

I decided to remain at the table - linger even - as a social experiment. Would Tony diverge from himself as a discussion topic? Would Tony show any interest in what the full-of-life young woman sitting opposite him thought of anything? What she planned on doing? Where she was travelling to?

 

You would be astonished to know the answers were all in the negative, and as I had already taken an age to down three pancakes, two cups of tea, and one of apple-juice, I could tarry no longer, and left Natalie to look after her own defence.

 

We were now past Osceola, eighty minutes behind, and it was time to get my bags ready.

 

Oh Yeah, I Still am Connected.

 

As mentioned above, I returned to the digital globe just before Ottumwa and celebrated by having a short walk trainside during the brief stop there. It was already warm.

 

I bumped into Martha again and had a wee chat. She was being taught by a fellow passenger how to use her phone as a camera, and seemed mighty impressed by the opportunities now available to her. As I reboarded, I thought there is a life-experienced woman who would have told Tony where to get off, and who could have built up Natalies skills in that regard.

 

Crossing the Mississipi and the Home Run

 

I repaired to my cabin upon reboarding at Ottumw and checked where we were. Not too far from re-crossing the Mississippi I discovered, this time by daylight at Burlington, so I thought Id be a fair chance to catch it on video.

 

But first there were the wide flat fields of eastern Iowa to cover, in their quiet Sunday guise. Small towns here and there, many enormous silos by the tracks and on the farms, small roads, and little activity given the day it was. Peaceful, neat, and pretty at least from my perspective on the train, passing by.

 

And then the mighty river. We waited for despatch approval, the slowly crossed, before another wait on the Illinois side for further radio instruction, which seemingly included advice that a hand signal needed to be used. We were on a high levee and rolling at a mere 27kph for some time after the crossing.

 

A large coal train was waiting on an adjacent track and it was not until we passed it that we sped up to our earlier cruising speed of 125kph.

 

By now, we had dropped to 160m altitude. A part-consumed water-bottle, which I had last opened at Denver the previous evening, was now crushed a little. I unscrewed the top to let in some air and allow it to resume its normal shape - science in action.

 

The Racing The Southwest Chief (Train 4) to Chicago

 

At the junction just south-west of Galesburg station, we pulled up alongside Train #4, also headed to Chicago, but starting at Los Angeles. Which would be given first priority for the track home?

 

Sadly for us, it was they, so we waited a bit longer, looking out over the bare fields for our signal to progress into the now free Galesburg platform the Southwest Chief had just departed.

 

We went past Sunday kids baseball, golfers, and bikers on the way in through the Chicago hinterland and suburbs, before the grimier and industrial areas signalled we were about to do the reverse in to the station.

 

Not long after 1500h, only a little after its scheduled arrival time, we pulled in to platform 16, and another leg was over.

 

Ten and a half thousand kilometres done, and eight and a half thou more to go.

 

Off a Train, On Another Train

 

I left some bags at the station, in the legit overnight storage area this time rather than the Metro Lounge, and headed for my hotel.

 

I thought I should have a go at the el, so worked out how to buy a 24 hour ticket, and jumped on one at a nearby station. I did a loop, and then another one, until I found an Orange Line to get me to the Chicago Legs, and called it a day.

Edited by mcropod

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But first there were the wide flat fields of eastern Ohio to cover, in their quiet Sunday guise. Small towns here and there, many enormous silos by the tracks and on the farms, small roads, and little activity given the day it was. Peaceful, neat, and pretty at least from my perspective on the train, passing by.

4 letter state is right, but it's Iowa, not Ohio. ;)

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But first there were the wide flat fields of eastern Ohio to cover, in their quiet Sunday guise. Small towns here and there, many enormous silos by the tracks and on the farms, small roads, and little activity given the day it was. Peaceful, neat, and pretty at least from my perspective on the train, passing by.

4 letter state is right, but it's Iowa, not Ohio. ;)

It looks like I did that quite a bit - my apologies. I caught myself in the pics’ captions, but obviously not the text.

 

Many thanks quality-control editor :-) I am much obliged and I’ll make the changes, even although it’ll cause all the possessive and abbreviation apostophes to drop out.

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CHI to PDX Train #27 (Part One) 7 May

 

Pre-boarding

 

I bought a 24hr Ventra day ticket on arrival in Chicago yesterday afternoon, so I thought I would do a long-rails warm-up on short rails. I had downloaded the Ventra app and familiarised myself with how things run. I had navigated my way to my previous night’s hotel by feel, but thought I’d have a go at a more strategic approach this time.

 

I knew I had to be back at the station for the 1415h departure, and my ticket would not die before then, so my only consideration was being back in the Metro Lounge with my stored bags reclaimed by around 1330h.

 

I figured that gave me a bit of leeway, and didn’t require me to compete with anyone in the Monday morning rush.

 

I had another chance to look at the Legs, this time lit from the opposite side, to see whether they were more photogenic that way.

 

After that, it was just a short walk to Roosevelt station and to play train roulette - get on whichever arrived first, going north into the CBD.

 

The previous evening, as I exited Roosevelt station, I sought assistance at the barrier from a station official. Recognising I was a stranger to the area, he seemed most solicitous that I knew where I was and where I was going. I thought that was a nice touch in a big city, and another point in favour of Chicago in my mind.

 

A Quick Visit to CHI station

 

I thought I should reclaim my bags and ditch some of my overnight stuff to lighten the load for my morning exploration of the L.

 

I went to a quiet corner of the Metro Lounge I had spotted on my previous visit, and saw one of the seats was occupied by a graceful elderly woman who had likewise found this haven. I said G’day but otherwise was inclined to leave her taking the moment positioning yourself in that corner indicates is your preference.

 

But after a few minues she decided to engage, and in the first few minutes she guessed I was an Aussie. Her name was Connie, and she was taking a break in Chicago between her Mississippi home and a visit to her grandchildren farther east.

 

She told me she is very keen on Oz animal docos, and so I figured she should have one of my kangaroo pins. She was happy to receive it.

 

I told her that I intended to ride the L and hoped we might still bump into each other on my return.

 

The L

 

I’d heard about the L, or ‘el’ as I remember it being recorded in some of the books I read which were set in places where they had an elevated railway rather than a subway or underground or tube system. The idea seemed fabulous to me - a railway on stilts, that you had to climb stairs to reach, and which looked into the windows of buildings’ upper floors!

 

Yesterday’s short run was now going to be much less restrained.

 

I went around the loop a few times, changing trains at the well signposted stations. I reckon it’s possible to do a fair bit on just one ticket, for $2.50, you just have to be careful your route doesn’t require you to exit the system.

 

When exploring, I usually operate on the basis that if you are not going anywhere in particular, you are never lost, and I employed that tactic here. I know for sure I was on the Brown, Red, Pink, Orange, Blue, and Green lines. Perhaps I visited another colour - I forget.

 

I had just caught the end of the rush hour, so the first few trains were eight-car beasts. The later trains were mostly four cars. I thought I’d have a go at the red line, and discovered it took me out an exit and into another ticketed entrance, but my ten dollar ticket from the previous day was still valid, so I was unconcerned.

 

That one turned out to be a subway, so I stayed on only until it emerged in Chinatown before turning around and searching out more supraway lines. They were not hard to come by.

 

At one transfer station, Ashland, on the northern city fringe and on the Green and the Pink lines, I spotted that the station buildings were quite ornately decorated, with perhaps their finest years well behind them. They were still beautiful, even in their rundown condition.

 

Back to Chicago Union Station

 

The ‘you can’t get lost’ bizzo only works one way. Eventually, you have to get to somewhere specific, and for me it was CHI station.

 

But everything which goes through the loop is going to get to the closest station, Quincy, so it’s not too tough. If you can get back to the loop, you can get back to CHI.

 

With my bags again reclaimed, an apple stolen from the buffet, I could spend a bit of time sorting out my photos of the morning, and get ready to board my last overnighter Amtrak train.

 

I bumped into Connie again in the Lounge as she was about to leave to catch her train, and we said our goodbyes again.

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Ooooh, but on boarding, and sorting out my comms and nav gear, I discovered my Garmin sat nav had been half-inched from one of the bags I stored in the Metro Lounge.

 

It had been one of the items I stored that morning after reclaiming my gear, relocating it from my overnight pack, figuring I’d not need it for that portion of my day.

 

Seemingly, someone with access to the Metro Lounge baggage room decided I’d not need it for the full duration of my trip.

 

It was a handy little device, and told me where I was when I was out of other connectivity range. I reckon it’ll mean I’ll be flying blind on The Canadian.

 

I am sanguine about these things, spilt milk and all that, so don’t feel bad on my account. And it doesn’t alter my view of Chicago being an ace sort of place.

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Why didnt you do the Bean?! Its the best!

I reckon you are right, but when I go to new places, I generally dont look for famous things to visit.

 

I prefer to gather experiences and see how things are for the people who live there.

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Why didnt you do the Bean?! Its the best!

I reckon you are right, but when I go to new places, I generally dont look for famous things to visit.

 

I prefer to gather experiences and see how things are for the people who live there.

 

I can understand that, but Cloud Gate (the bean) and Agora (the legs) are both in Grant Park, about a block and half from each other. And I just have to say that Cloud Gate is way cooler than you'd think. It looks completely different from every angle, and as you walk around it, you feel like it's swallowing you up (in a good way). Just saying, the next time you're in Chicago, I highly recommend it.

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Ooooh, but on boarding, and sorting out my comms and nav gear, I discovered my Garmin sat nav had been half-inched from one of the bags I stored in the Metro Lounge.

 

It had been one of the items I stored that morning after reclaiming my gear, relocating it from my overnight pack, figuring I’d not need it for that portion of my day.

 

Seemingly, someone with access to the Metro Lounge baggage room decided I’d not need it for the full duration of my trip.

 

It was a handy little device, and told me where I was when I was out of other connectivity range. I reckon it’ll mean I’ll be flying blind on The Canadian.

 

I am sanguine about these things, spilt milk and all that, so don’t feel bad on my account. And it doesn’t alter my view of Chicago being an ace sort of place.

 

This is such a sad story! I have never had an issue with anything in my luggage disappearing, anywhere on the Amtrak system. But I wondered about that bag storage room in the Metro Lounge, as there are so many people constantly passing through it. I wonder if someone watched you transfer the GPS, and thus knew where in your bag it was stored. I was considering taking mine (an old one I was given) with me on my next travels, as it sounds extremely useful. After reading this, I guess I'd only do it if I am willing to carry it everywhere, same as my other electronics.

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I reckon you are right, but when I go to new places, I generally dont look for famous things to visit.

I prefer to gather experiences and see how things are for the people who live there.

 

I can understand that, but Cloud Gate (the bean) and Agora (the legs) are both in Grant Park, about a block and half from each other. And I just have to say that Cloud Gate is way cooler than you'd think. It looks completely different from every angle, and as you walk around it, you feel like it's swallowing you up (in a good way). Just saying, the next time you're in Chicago, I highly recommend it.

No worries, I will keep that in mind for the next visit.

 

Maybe the court case :-)

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When dealing with the very helpful Conductor Mac, who got the right person at Amtrak on her phone for me, we got to chatting. When I showed her some of my other devices, including the one which shows our speed, she then showed me her speed cheat-sheet and was happy that I take a pic of it.post-14273-0-03924400-1525729840_thumb.jpeg

 

post-14273-0-78794700-1525729866_thumb.jpeg

 

All while sorted before going through this fab-named place post-14273-0-13130600-1525729939_thumb.jpeg

Edited by mcropod

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