darien-l
OBS Chief
California Zephyr #5 Denver (DEN) - Emeryville (EMY) - San Francisco Shopping Center (SFS) December 12-13, 2009
Background
I’m what’s called an “early career scientist,” and my funding comes from government grants. I travel to conferences often, and whenever possible, I take the train. Given that Amtrak is a government-owned entity, I usually have no problem getting reimbursed for my travel, even if it is significantly more expensive than flying. I enjoy taking trains because it gives me a chance to catch up on work, meet interesting people, and relax a bit. As a result, I earned a reputation among my friends and co-workers of being somewhat eccentric. They have the usual stereotypes about Amtrak: slow, late, dingy, expensive, bad service, etc. Nonetheless, some of them were at least a bit intrigued by train travel, and in between the ridicule, I sensed some genuine interest.
Finally, after years of hearing my train stories, some of them broke down and decided to join me on a trip to San Francisco. Once the number of participants achieved critical mass, it became a “group trip” and more people joined in. Some were going to a conference in San Francisco, and others joined for fun. In the end, we ended up with a total of 8 people, and 3 bedrooms and 1 roomette. Our ages ranged from 23 to 31, and most of the people in the group have never been on a long distance train in their life. Although our group assembled somewhat spontaneously, I found that I was still regarded as the “instigator,” “planner,” and “trip leader” and sensed that I would take a lot of crap if things were to go sour because it was “all my idea.”
We were to take the California Zephyr from Denver on Saturday, December 12, at 8 am, arrive into Emeryville at 4 pm Sunday, and be in San Francisco shortly after 5 pm.
Friday, December 11, 2009
A couple of things happened on Friday, the day before departure. First, we had some last minute cancellations, and ended up with an empty roomette, which we decided to use as a “nap room” for taking naps during the day. I called Amtrak and asked to get a railfare refund for one of the passengers in the roomette, and to change the name of the other passenger to mine. I was told that to get the refund I’d have to speak to a ticket agent when I pick up the tickets at the station. Second, our train departed Chicago 3 hours late. The group was not too happy to hear about that, because some of them were scheduled to fly back from San Francisco Monday morning, and made various plans for their one night in San Francisco. Most of us planned to go out and have a fun night out.
(As an aside: I know that some here would recommend not making plans for within 24 hours of arrival when taking a train. I don’t buy into this philosophy: I see it as giving up on Amtrak as a viable means of transportation and treating it as a leisurely joyride. I think a better strategy is to look at amtrakdelays.com and make plans based on the longest delay in the last couple of weeks.)
Saturday, December 12, 2009
I didn’t sleep very well the night before departure. Among other things, I made this post: http://discuss.amtraktrains.com/index.php?showtopic=30165 Also, every few hours I’d wake up, check the train status, and was heartened to see that it was making up time. By the time morning rolled around, the new estimated departure time for our train was at 10 am, only 2 hours late. I messaged all my friends to get the station by 9 am.
As soon as we walked into the station, I knew it wasn’t going to be anything resembling a normal departure. The normally empty Denver Union Station was filled to the gills, and looked like a cross between Grand Central at rush hour and a refugee camp. People were camped on the floor using sleeping bags, blankets, and whatever else they improvised. When we eventually found some seats, we asked some nearby campers what the deal was. They replied that their train, an eastbound California Zephyr, was running at least 14 hours late. My friends looked at me in horror, all of their worst fears about Amtrak just confirmed. “Is this normal?!” one of them asked. “If our train is 14 hours late, we’ll miss our flights back!” I tried to assure them that this was not normal, and the chances of us experiencing a similar delay were very low.
The next order of business was to pick up the tickets, which I had to do from the ticket window to get a refund for one of our last-minute cancellations. Unfortunately, the line for the ticket window was very long, and the lone agent was quite overwhelmed. As I stood in line, I overheard a conversation between the station manager and a conductor. It appeared that both the eastbound (#6) and the westbound (#5) California Zephyrs arrived in the vicinity of Union Station at the same time. They decided to give the #6 priority, bring it in on track #1, and board it first. At the same time, they were going to bring in the #5 on track #2, and de-board/board it after they were done with #6, to avoid confusion.
After standing in line for about 40 minutes, I finally got to the front. Just then, a whole new crowd of people appeared in the already crowded station – passengers who just got off the #6. Quite a few of them got in line behind me, apparently with the intention of getting off the train, getting a partial refund, and flying to their destination. The agent had no idea how to handle my refund request, and had to call Amtrak and apparently wait on hold(!) as a bunch of impatient #6 passengers were breathing down my neck. Finally, he issued all the tickets, made me sign every single one of them, and said that hopefully the refund would post to the credit card (it did).
As soon as I finally left the ticket line, there was a garbled announcement for passengers to check in. Everybody got in line. I walked over to the front of the line and found that they were only checking in #6 passengers. Again, a lot of confusion.
Another garbled announcement, this time apparently for the #5 passengers to check-in, and for #6 passengers to board. Naturally, some #5 passengers headed for the gate, which prompted the conductor to get on top of some seats and yell “Attention! We are only boarding passengers for train #6 at this time. If your ticket doesn’t say #6, do not board!”
When my friends checked in, I noticed that fully half of them were given coach boarding passes. Apparently, the conductor didn’t bother looking at their tickets, and just assumed that young people must be in coach. I didn’t care enough to complain at that point – I knew where to go, and that’s all that mattered.
As we trudged all the way down the platform to sleeper cars, we were accosted by a strong smell of urine coming from one of the coach cars. Apparently, one of the toilets was leaking. A friend of mine made a comment about “toilet on wheels.” As we approached the sleeper cars, my hopes of at least one refurbished Superliner I were quickly dashed. Instead, we were presented with two of the dingiest Superliner II cars I’ve ever seen: melted snow and dirt on the floors, stains on the carpeted walls, dust in every corner. Our car (#532) seemed especially dirty –bits of food, wrappers, and assorted detritus littered the floors. Bathrooms haven’t been cleaned in ages. The public shower was nasty – used towels all over the floor, puddles of water, used soaps and soap wrappers all over the shower. Those of us who took a shower did it in the other sleeper car, which was kept much cleaner.
While my friends headed upstairs to get settled in, I stopped for a chat with out sleeper attendant. I read about pre-tipping, or paying for a good level of service up front (http://www.on-track-on-line.com/amthints-people.shtml), and figured this would be a good time to try it. I explained to the attendant that this was the first time on a train for most of my friends, asked him to take good care of them, and offered a $50 bill. He took it nonchalantly, said “hey, you’re all right, man,” and that was it.
I then found the attendant for the 531 car, where our “nap roomette” was located. I explained to the attendant that I had a ticket for that roomette, that we were only going to use it for day naps, and said that my only request is that he convert it to night configuration and keep it like that all the way to Emeryville. I gave him $20, and he said “ok, will do.”
When I returned to our car, I found that my friends settled in the wrong bedrooms. “They’re all the same, what difference does it make” was their reasoning. I was too tired to provide a thorough explanation, and simply told them to look at their tickets and move to their assigned bedrooms.
We departed Denver almost 3 hours late. Whatever time was made up between Chicago and Denver was lost due to Union Station having to service two trains at the same time, and #6 given priority.
We waited for the car attendant to come over and introduce himself, but that didn’t happen. Eventually, I had to go out and flag him down – we needed him to open the door between two of our bedrooms (B and C), converting them to a bedroom suite. He unlocked the door, gave a couple of half-hearted attempts to slide it open, mumbled “sorry,” and left. After some time, we figured out how to slide the door all the way open on our own.
Afterwards, finally, some degree of redemption! We went to the lounge car, were lucky enough to score some seats, and enjoyed beautiful views as the train started its climb into the Rocky Mountains. It was a beautiful clear day, with lots of fresh snow on the ground. It was at that point when one of my friends turned to me and said: “I think I’m starting to see why you like to take trains.”
Lunch, and all the other meals we had on the trains, were the usual Amtrak affair: surly, overworked crews, and extremely slow service. My companions were, however, moderately impressed with the quality of the food, especially the cooked-to-order flat iron steak: I think they were expecting something akin to airline meals.
We spent most of our time on the train in the lounge car, which my friends really enjoyed. We played lots of card and table games, were invited to join other people, had other people join us, made friends, and had a good time.
We returned to our rooms after dinner, at about 9 pm, and found that none of our beds were down. I went out looking for our attendant, but he was nowhere to be found. While searching for him, I noticed that beds were down in other rooms. For some reason he ignored ours. I never did find him that night, and ended up making up the beds myself.
As we went to bed we shut the door between the two bedrooms for privacy reasons. Unfortunately, it would not stay closed – the train’s rocking motion eventually slid it open – and the attendant was MIA. I jammed a folded piece of paper between the door and its frame to keep it from sliding open.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
The next morning we went to breakfast early and then to the lounge car. By 11 am, none of our bedrooms were converted to the daytime configuration. Again, I went looking for the attendant, and again, was unsuccessful. I did find the conductor, though, and he tracked down the attendant somehow. The attendant looked pissed that I was making him do actual work, and then, when I asked him if he had pliers or any tools to remove the folded paper, which was now stuck in the door pretty good, he proceeded to chastise me for trying to fix things on my own. He was of no help in removing the paper, which I eventually managed on my own.
Around noon, one of my friends went to use the “nap roomette” in car 531 and found that the beds were up. Sigh. I only asked *one* thing of the car 531 attendant – please keep the room in the nighttime configuration all the way to Emeryville. Again, I made the beds up myself.
Between Denver and Reno, our train made up over an hour, we were less than 2 hours behind schedule, and people were in generally high spirits. Alas, it was not to last. Trouble started on the outskirts of Reno: the train came to a stop, and the conductor announced that “we’re going to be here for a while due to freight train congestion up ahead.” And so, there we sat for about an hour, losing most of the time that we made up.
That, however, turned out to be only a short preview for what lay ahead. As we climbed into the Sierras, shortly after the town of Truckee, the train came to a stop and the conductor explained that there’s snow removal equipment on the tracks ahead, and we have to wait for it to plow the tracks. We sat there for about an hour and a half.
When we finally started moving, it turned out it was too early to cheer. We went maybe 10 miles when the train stopped again, and the conductor said that there are two trains in front of us that need to pass us using the siding on our right. Unfortunately, he added, the siding is currently under 3 feet of snow, so we have to wait for the snowplow to return and clear the siding.
It was then when the patience of some of my companions started running out. Comments like “why didn’t the f-ing plow clear the f-ing siding when it was here before?” flowed freely, and, with a night out in San Francisco looking less and less likely, some went back to the “party room” (the bedroom suite) and started drinking. In another hour and a half, the plow finally arrived, in another half an hour, the trains passed us, and we finally started moving again.
Our train rolled into Emeryville at 10:32 pm, 6 hours 22 minutes late. Still, it was not the end of our misadventures. My companions asked me how long it took for the bus from Emeryville to get to San Francisco, and I told them “about half an hour” based on previous experiences. When we got to the bus, I noticed that the bus driver was not helping passengers with their luggage, as was the case on my previous trips, but guarding the door to make sure no one got on without a ticket. Once everyone from our train was onboard, the bus driver disappeared. We sat on the bus for 40 minutes wondering what was taking so long. We finally got our answer when a Capitol Corridor train rolled into the station, and its passengers filled the bus to capacity. When someone tried complaining to the bus driver about the wait, he snapped back “your train was so late, you’re lucky to get a bus at all!”
Even once we started moving, the delays continued. A bunch of lanes on Bay Bridge were closed for repair, traffic stretched for miles, and we didn't roll into San Francisco until well after midnight. The bus was packed, made lots of stops, and, as luck would have it, our stop was just about last. By the time we finally got to our hotel, it was close to 1 in the morning. Bleary-eyed, we stumbled to a bar across the street for a couple of drinks, and that was the end of our “big night out” in San Francisco.
Conclusion
This trip was, to put it mildly, a mixed bag. Compared to my previous trips, it was well below par. My friends gave it high marks for scenery, lounge car, and community atmosphere, and low marks for cleanliness, service, and on-time performance. Some of the stereotypes I’ve been trying to dispel about Amtrak (late trains, filthy cars, surly service) were unfortunately very much present on this trip. On the other hand I heard one of my friends remark “the train is great – I can sleep, drink, walk around, and enjoy the views.” Other remarks included “I wouldn’t call it ‘nice’, but it’s comfortable” and “train travel has so much potential – too bad most of it is unrealized.”
P.S. On the way back from San Francisco, I had one of my most perfect Amtrak trips ever. Everything went right. I was in a refurbished Superliner I, the crew were friendly and jovial, and we made every single station stop either on time or early. The only problem was – I was all by myself. Go figure.
Photos
A rare sight indeed: two Superliners at Denver Union Station. This was my first time boarding Amtrak on track #2.
Snow-covered town of Truckee.
Snowplow removing snow from the siding.
Background
I’m what’s called an “early career scientist,” and my funding comes from government grants. I travel to conferences often, and whenever possible, I take the train. Given that Amtrak is a government-owned entity, I usually have no problem getting reimbursed for my travel, even if it is significantly more expensive than flying. I enjoy taking trains because it gives me a chance to catch up on work, meet interesting people, and relax a bit. As a result, I earned a reputation among my friends and co-workers of being somewhat eccentric. They have the usual stereotypes about Amtrak: slow, late, dingy, expensive, bad service, etc. Nonetheless, some of them were at least a bit intrigued by train travel, and in between the ridicule, I sensed some genuine interest.
Finally, after years of hearing my train stories, some of them broke down and decided to join me on a trip to San Francisco. Once the number of participants achieved critical mass, it became a “group trip” and more people joined in. Some were going to a conference in San Francisco, and others joined for fun. In the end, we ended up with a total of 8 people, and 3 bedrooms and 1 roomette. Our ages ranged from 23 to 31, and most of the people in the group have never been on a long distance train in their life. Although our group assembled somewhat spontaneously, I found that I was still regarded as the “instigator,” “planner,” and “trip leader” and sensed that I would take a lot of crap if things were to go sour because it was “all my idea.”
We were to take the California Zephyr from Denver on Saturday, December 12, at 8 am, arrive into Emeryville at 4 pm Sunday, and be in San Francisco shortly after 5 pm.
Friday, December 11, 2009
A couple of things happened on Friday, the day before departure. First, we had some last minute cancellations, and ended up with an empty roomette, which we decided to use as a “nap room” for taking naps during the day. I called Amtrak and asked to get a railfare refund for one of the passengers in the roomette, and to change the name of the other passenger to mine. I was told that to get the refund I’d have to speak to a ticket agent when I pick up the tickets at the station. Second, our train departed Chicago 3 hours late. The group was not too happy to hear about that, because some of them were scheduled to fly back from San Francisco Monday morning, and made various plans for their one night in San Francisco. Most of us planned to go out and have a fun night out.
(As an aside: I know that some here would recommend not making plans for within 24 hours of arrival when taking a train. I don’t buy into this philosophy: I see it as giving up on Amtrak as a viable means of transportation and treating it as a leisurely joyride. I think a better strategy is to look at amtrakdelays.com and make plans based on the longest delay in the last couple of weeks.)
Saturday, December 12, 2009
I didn’t sleep very well the night before departure. Among other things, I made this post: http://discuss.amtraktrains.com/index.php?showtopic=30165 Also, every few hours I’d wake up, check the train status, and was heartened to see that it was making up time. By the time morning rolled around, the new estimated departure time for our train was at 10 am, only 2 hours late. I messaged all my friends to get the station by 9 am.
As soon as we walked into the station, I knew it wasn’t going to be anything resembling a normal departure. The normally empty Denver Union Station was filled to the gills, and looked like a cross between Grand Central at rush hour and a refugee camp. People were camped on the floor using sleeping bags, blankets, and whatever else they improvised. When we eventually found some seats, we asked some nearby campers what the deal was. They replied that their train, an eastbound California Zephyr, was running at least 14 hours late. My friends looked at me in horror, all of their worst fears about Amtrak just confirmed. “Is this normal?!” one of them asked. “If our train is 14 hours late, we’ll miss our flights back!” I tried to assure them that this was not normal, and the chances of us experiencing a similar delay were very low.
The next order of business was to pick up the tickets, which I had to do from the ticket window to get a refund for one of our last-minute cancellations. Unfortunately, the line for the ticket window was very long, and the lone agent was quite overwhelmed. As I stood in line, I overheard a conversation between the station manager and a conductor. It appeared that both the eastbound (#6) and the westbound (#5) California Zephyrs arrived in the vicinity of Union Station at the same time. They decided to give the #6 priority, bring it in on track #1, and board it first. At the same time, they were going to bring in the #5 on track #2, and de-board/board it after they were done with #6, to avoid confusion.
After standing in line for about 40 minutes, I finally got to the front. Just then, a whole new crowd of people appeared in the already crowded station – passengers who just got off the #6. Quite a few of them got in line behind me, apparently with the intention of getting off the train, getting a partial refund, and flying to their destination. The agent had no idea how to handle my refund request, and had to call Amtrak and apparently wait on hold(!) as a bunch of impatient #6 passengers were breathing down my neck. Finally, he issued all the tickets, made me sign every single one of them, and said that hopefully the refund would post to the credit card (it did).
As soon as I finally left the ticket line, there was a garbled announcement for passengers to check in. Everybody got in line. I walked over to the front of the line and found that they were only checking in #6 passengers. Again, a lot of confusion.
Another garbled announcement, this time apparently for the #5 passengers to check-in, and for #6 passengers to board. Naturally, some #5 passengers headed for the gate, which prompted the conductor to get on top of some seats and yell “Attention! We are only boarding passengers for train #6 at this time. If your ticket doesn’t say #6, do not board!”
When my friends checked in, I noticed that fully half of them were given coach boarding passes. Apparently, the conductor didn’t bother looking at their tickets, and just assumed that young people must be in coach. I didn’t care enough to complain at that point – I knew where to go, and that’s all that mattered.
As we trudged all the way down the platform to sleeper cars, we were accosted by a strong smell of urine coming from one of the coach cars. Apparently, one of the toilets was leaking. A friend of mine made a comment about “toilet on wheels.” As we approached the sleeper cars, my hopes of at least one refurbished Superliner I were quickly dashed. Instead, we were presented with two of the dingiest Superliner II cars I’ve ever seen: melted snow and dirt on the floors, stains on the carpeted walls, dust in every corner. Our car (#532) seemed especially dirty –bits of food, wrappers, and assorted detritus littered the floors. Bathrooms haven’t been cleaned in ages. The public shower was nasty – used towels all over the floor, puddles of water, used soaps and soap wrappers all over the shower. Those of us who took a shower did it in the other sleeper car, which was kept much cleaner.
While my friends headed upstairs to get settled in, I stopped for a chat with out sleeper attendant. I read about pre-tipping, or paying for a good level of service up front (http://www.on-track-on-line.com/amthints-people.shtml), and figured this would be a good time to try it. I explained to the attendant that this was the first time on a train for most of my friends, asked him to take good care of them, and offered a $50 bill. He took it nonchalantly, said “hey, you’re all right, man,” and that was it.
I then found the attendant for the 531 car, where our “nap roomette” was located. I explained to the attendant that I had a ticket for that roomette, that we were only going to use it for day naps, and said that my only request is that he convert it to night configuration and keep it like that all the way to Emeryville. I gave him $20, and he said “ok, will do.”
When I returned to our car, I found that my friends settled in the wrong bedrooms. “They’re all the same, what difference does it make” was their reasoning. I was too tired to provide a thorough explanation, and simply told them to look at their tickets and move to their assigned bedrooms.
We departed Denver almost 3 hours late. Whatever time was made up between Chicago and Denver was lost due to Union Station having to service two trains at the same time, and #6 given priority.
We waited for the car attendant to come over and introduce himself, but that didn’t happen. Eventually, I had to go out and flag him down – we needed him to open the door between two of our bedrooms (B and C), converting them to a bedroom suite. He unlocked the door, gave a couple of half-hearted attempts to slide it open, mumbled “sorry,” and left. After some time, we figured out how to slide the door all the way open on our own.
Afterwards, finally, some degree of redemption! We went to the lounge car, were lucky enough to score some seats, and enjoyed beautiful views as the train started its climb into the Rocky Mountains. It was a beautiful clear day, with lots of fresh snow on the ground. It was at that point when one of my friends turned to me and said: “I think I’m starting to see why you like to take trains.”
Lunch, and all the other meals we had on the trains, were the usual Amtrak affair: surly, overworked crews, and extremely slow service. My companions were, however, moderately impressed with the quality of the food, especially the cooked-to-order flat iron steak: I think they were expecting something akin to airline meals.
We spent most of our time on the train in the lounge car, which my friends really enjoyed. We played lots of card and table games, were invited to join other people, had other people join us, made friends, and had a good time.
We returned to our rooms after dinner, at about 9 pm, and found that none of our beds were down. I went out looking for our attendant, but he was nowhere to be found. While searching for him, I noticed that beds were down in other rooms. For some reason he ignored ours. I never did find him that night, and ended up making up the beds myself.
As we went to bed we shut the door between the two bedrooms for privacy reasons. Unfortunately, it would not stay closed – the train’s rocking motion eventually slid it open – and the attendant was MIA. I jammed a folded piece of paper between the door and its frame to keep it from sliding open.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
The next morning we went to breakfast early and then to the lounge car. By 11 am, none of our bedrooms were converted to the daytime configuration. Again, I went looking for the attendant, and again, was unsuccessful. I did find the conductor, though, and he tracked down the attendant somehow. The attendant looked pissed that I was making him do actual work, and then, when I asked him if he had pliers or any tools to remove the folded paper, which was now stuck in the door pretty good, he proceeded to chastise me for trying to fix things on my own. He was of no help in removing the paper, which I eventually managed on my own.
Around noon, one of my friends went to use the “nap roomette” in car 531 and found that the beds were up. Sigh. I only asked *one* thing of the car 531 attendant – please keep the room in the nighttime configuration all the way to Emeryville. Again, I made the beds up myself.
Between Denver and Reno, our train made up over an hour, we were less than 2 hours behind schedule, and people were in generally high spirits. Alas, it was not to last. Trouble started on the outskirts of Reno: the train came to a stop, and the conductor announced that “we’re going to be here for a while due to freight train congestion up ahead.” And so, there we sat for about an hour, losing most of the time that we made up.
That, however, turned out to be only a short preview for what lay ahead. As we climbed into the Sierras, shortly after the town of Truckee, the train came to a stop and the conductor explained that there’s snow removal equipment on the tracks ahead, and we have to wait for it to plow the tracks. We sat there for about an hour and a half.
When we finally started moving, it turned out it was too early to cheer. We went maybe 10 miles when the train stopped again, and the conductor said that there are two trains in front of us that need to pass us using the siding on our right. Unfortunately, he added, the siding is currently under 3 feet of snow, so we have to wait for the snowplow to return and clear the siding.
It was then when the patience of some of my companions started running out. Comments like “why didn’t the f-ing plow clear the f-ing siding when it was here before?” flowed freely, and, with a night out in San Francisco looking less and less likely, some went back to the “party room” (the bedroom suite) and started drinking. In another hour and a half, the plow finally arrived, in another half an hour, the trains passed us, and we finally started moving again.
Our train rolled into Emeryville at 10:32 pm, 6 hours 22 minutes late. Still, it was not the end of our misadventures. My companions asked me how long it took for the bus from Emeryville to get to San Francisco, and I told them “about half an hour” based on previous experiences. When we got to the bus, I noticed that the bus driver was not helping passengers with their luggage, as was the case on my previous trips, but guarding the door to make sure no one got on without a ticket. Once everyone from our train was onboard, the bus driver disappeared. We sat on the bus for 40 minutes wondering what was taking so long. We finally got our answer when a Capitol Corridor train rolled into the station, and its passengers filled the bus to capacity. When someone tried complaining to the bus driver about the wait, he snapped back “your train was so late, you’re lucky to get a bus at all!”
Even once we started moving, the delays continued. A bunch of lanes on Bay Bridge were closed for repair, traffic stretched for miles, and we didn't roll into San Francisco until well after midnight. The bus was packed, made lots of stops, and, as luck would have it, our stop was just about last. By the time we finally got to our hotel, it was close to 1 in the morning. Bleary-eyed, we stumbled to a bar across the street for a couple of drinks, and that was the end of our “big night out” in San Francisco.
Conclusion
This trip was, to put it mildly, a mixed bag. Compared to my previous trips, it was well below par. My friends gave it high marks for scenery, lounge car, and community atmosphere, and low marks for cleanliness, service, and on-time performance. Some of the stereotypes I’ve been trying to dispel about Amtrak (late trains, filthy cars, surly service) were unfortunately very much present on this trip. On the other hand I heard one of my friends remark “the train is great – I can sleep, drink, walk around, and enjoy the views.” Other remarks included “I wouldn’t call it ‘nice’, but it’s comfortable” and “train travel has so much potential – too bad most of it is unrealized.”
P.S. On the way back from San Francisco, I had one of my most perfect Amtrak trips ever. Everything went right. I was in a refurbished Superliner I, the crew were friendly and jovial, and we made every single station stop either on time or early. The only problem was – I was all by myself. Go figure.
Photos
A rare sight indeed: two Superliners at Denver Union Station. This was my first time boarding Amtrak on track #2.
Snow-covered town of Truckee.
Snowplow removing snow from the siding.
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