Ispolkom
Engineer
This is one of those trips that just kind of grew of its own accord. Last winter Mrs. Ispolkom pointed out that we had not spent any time in Portland lately. So I put together a little trip over the Labor Day weekend. The plan at first was to fly out using a Southwest Airlines free ticket, spend a couple of days in Portland, then ride the Empire Builder back to St. Paul on a two-zone AGR award.
Things snowballed from there, and the final plan was for Mrs. Ispolkom and I to fly to Portland. I then would travel Portland - Seattle - Chicago - New Orleans. Mrs. Ispolkom would ride from Portland to St. Paul (she doesn't have much vacation time available), while my sister would board at Stanley, ND, and travel to New Orleans with me. We'd spend a couple of days in New Orleans, then travel north. I’d debark at St. Paul, while my sister would continue on to Stanley. This required one two-zone and one one-zone AGR award, and in the end worked out perfectly. It did confuse conductors and SCAs en route, though.
In Portland we stayed at the Doubletree, which I'd recommend. It's a perfectly fine hotel, we got a great rate, and it’s a block from the Lloyd Center light rail station. This is the last light-rail stop in the fare free zone, so it's a free ride to Portland Union Station.
Since this was a sleeper award, we had business class tickets on the Cascade. We both had excellent prepackaged salads in the Bistro car. These were far and away the best salads I'd ever encountered on Amtrak, and I wish they could be loaded on long-distance trains.
My sister had to board the train in Stanley because the Minot station is still closed. There's a bus between the two cities (if you can call Stanley a city), but it drops you off at a gas station on the bypass, a mile and a half from the Stanley depot. I would have just picked up my bag and started walking, but my sister is much more attuned to life in small-town North Dakota. She asked in the gas station if there was a cab she could call. A clerk answered, “Well, there’s a guy who drives people around when he feels like it, but my shift ends in ten minutes, so I’ll just give you a ride into town.”
While driving into town, the clerk remembered that it was Labor Day, and everything was closed. Rather than abandoning my sister to sit waiting at the station for six hours, she invited my sister to her home. My sister hung out there while the clerk leaves to run errands. Yes, that’s right, she left my sister, a complete stranger, alone in her house. Later, the clerk and my sister were invited over to neighbors for dinner, and eventually someone delivered her to the train station.
Between Stanley and St. Paul we had three adults in a bedroom, which was crowded but worked. Mrs. Ispolkom and I shared the bottom bunk, while my sister was in the top bunk.
At least we knew what we were getting into. Most of the passengers in our chock-full sleeper car were British travelers on a package tour, who were sadly misinformed about Amtrak. They were all in roomettes, but had expected much larger accommodations. One couple told us that they had been told that they’d have access to their checked luggage while on the train. Remarkably, our SCA did try to retrieve their luggage from the baggage car en route. They were also a thirsty bunch. By the second night out of Seattle they had drunk the dining and lounge cars dry.
The Empire Builder made good time, and arrived in Chicago only an hour late. My sister and I walked around Chicago, stopping at Garrett’s Popcorn for some of their iconic Chicago Mix.
We boarded the City of New Orleans a little before 8, and were summoned to dinner while still inside Chicago’s limits. On this train the sleeper is the last car, separated from the dining car by three coaches and the sightseer lounge. The dining car itself is one of the annoying Cross Country Cafes, though this model had trapezoidal four-tops in the dining room area, not the long booths I’ve encountered on the Capitol Limited. Dinner choices were limited: baked chicken, baked catfish, or some vegetarian pasta.
After dinner our beds were made up, and we retired. I got the upper bunk this time, and noticed clearly that the Canadian National does not maintain its tracks to the standard of BNSF’s Transcon. The bumpy track, along with our position at the end of the train, meant that the car bounced and jerked more than I was used to.
Things snowballed from there, and the final plan was for Mrs. Ispolkom and I to fly to Portland. I then would travel Portland - Seattle - Chicago - New Orleans. Mrs. Ispolkom would ride from Portland to St. Paul (she doesn't have much vacation time available), while my sister would board at Stanley, ND, and travel to New Orleans with me. We'd spend a couple of days in New Orleans, then travel north. I’d debark at St. Paul, while my sister would continue on to Stanley. This required one two-zone and one one-zone AGR award, and in the end worked out perfectly. It did confuse conductors and SCAs en route, though.
In Portland we stayed at the Doubletree, which I'd recommend. It's a perfectly fine hotel, we got a great rate, and it’s a block from the Lloyd Center light rail station. This is the last light-rail stop in the fare free zone, so it's a free ride to Portland Union Station.
Since this was a sleeper award, we had business class tickets on the Cascade. We both had excellent prepackaged salads in the Bistro car. These were far and away the best salads I'd ever encountered on Amtrak, and I wish they could be loaded on long-distance trains.
My sister had to board the train in Stanley because the Minot station is still closed. There's a bus between the two cities (if you can call Stanley a city), but it drops you off at a gas station on the bypass, a mile and a half from the Stanley depot. I would have just picked up my bag and started walking, but my sister is much more attuned to life in small-town North Dakota. She asked in the gas station if there was a cab she could call. A clerk answered, “Well, there’s a guy who drives people around when he feels like it, but my shift ends in ten minutes, so I’ll just give you a ride into town.”
While driving into town, the clerk remembered that it was Labor Day, and everything was closed. Rather than abandoning my sister to sit waiting at the station for six hours, she invited my sister to her home. My sister hung out there while the clerk leaves to run errands. Yes, that’s right, she left my sister, a complete stranger, alone in her house. Later, the clerk and my sister were invited over to neighbors for dinner, and eventually someone delivered her to the train station.
Between Stanley and St. Paul we had three adults in a bedroom, which was crowded but worked. Mrs. Ispolkom and I shared the bottom bunk, while my sister was in the top bunk.
At least we knew what we were getting into. Most of the passengers in our chock-full sleeper car were British travelers on a package tour, who were sadly misinformed about Amtrak. They were all in roomettes, but had expected much larger accommodations. One couple told us that they had been told that they’d have access to their checked luggage while on the train. Remarkably, our SCA did try to retrieve their luggage from the baggage car en route. They were also a thirsty bunch. By the second night out of Seattle they had drunk the dining and lounge cars dry.
The Empire Builder made good time, and arrived in Chicago only an hour late. My sister and I walked around Chicago, stopping at Garrett’s Popcorn for some of their iconic Chicago Mix.
We boarded the City of New Orleans a little before 8, and were summoned to dinner while still inside Chicago’s limits. On this train the sleeper is the last car, separated from the dining car by three coaches and the sightseer lounge. The dining car itself is one of the annoying Cross Country Cafes, though this model had trapezoidal four-tops in the dining room area, not the long booths I’ve encountered on the Capitol Limited. Dinner choices were limited: baked chicken, baked catfish, or some vegetarian pasta.
After dinner our beds were made up, and we retired. I got the upper bunk this time, and noticed clearly that the Canadian National does not maintain its tracks to the standard of BNSF’s Transcon. The bumpy track, along with our position at the end of the train, meant that the car bounced and jerked more than I was used to.
Last edited by a moderator:
