I was honored to be invited by saxman66 to join him for a brief-but-critical segment of his humongous undertaking of hitting all four corners of our great nation by rail. Luckily enough my location put me in position to tag along as Chris 3 hit the crucial 4th corner to complete the mission. Note: The names Chris, Chris 3, Saxman, and saxman66 are used interchangably for variety. Same guy.
Planning was a bit protracted and hectic. If you've been reading saxman66' rolling reports you'll recall that he suffered a major AGR points mixup. It hadn't been resolved by the time he got to my turf, necessitating some last minute changes. Wrinkles were ironed out, and on Sunday, 3-15-09, I took the city bus to OXN to meet the Saxman aboard Pacific Surfliner 784 to San Diego.
As usual I arrived early and took some pics. Some changes have been made around OXN recently, and I took full advantage photowise.
My distaste for cellphones is well known, but they do come in handy when traveling. Called Chris when 784 was about 10 minutes out to ask where he was on the train. Car 3, behind the Superliner.
Climbed aboard, hiked upstairs, found Chris easily, extended my hand, and said...
"Hey, Dude! Good to see you again!"
"Do I know you?"
"WhoozOn1st. Patrick. The Gatherings. We've been e-mailing, and I just talked to you on the phone."
"Oh, right. Didn't recognize you without the stupid hat."
Settled in, 784 got underway, and I started pointing out the various crops, points of interest, places I'd worked, local train stuff, and like that, as we jammed along over the Oxnard Plain toward L.A.
Because we'd both been to the first two Amtrak Unlimited Gatherings (Chicago, Los Angeles) there was reminiscing, exchanging of impressions, and more than a little kibbitzing about AU people, known both online only and in person. To hold over until dinner at SAN Chris got a tamale and a soda from the cafe, but hadn't grabbbed utensils or a napkin. Unable to bear the hideous spectacle of a grown man struggling to eat a tamale like a Hostess fruit pie (fellow passengers gawked in horror), I went and grabbed a napkin and a fork. Unfortunately there were no salsa packets, and it was lucky for Amtrak no cops were aboard. It's illegal (or should be) in California and several other southwestern states to sell tamales without providing some sort of saucelike condiment as well.
While Chris had been getting his tamale the guy across the aisle was noisily telling his friend to meet him at the station in about 20 minutes. Then he leaned over to me and asked "Does this train stop at Anaheim?" "Yes." "Perfect!" Not if his buddy was gonna be at Anaheim in 20 minutes, with the train still about 2 hours away. Never one to meddle with the bliss of ignorance, I said nothing.
Dropping into the San Fernando Valley after traversing the Santa Susanna Pass I pointed out the Metrolink Death Curve outside Chatsworth as we passed over it. Guess I was talking loud enough for other passengers nearby to hear, cuz they started craning around to get a good look too, though there's really nothing to see except new ballast (like they would know that).
We arrived at Van Nuys early, and had to hold for a few minutes to get back on schedule. An unplanned smoke stop was announced, but I passed (Breaking News: Whooz Skips Smoke Stop!). Chris detrained to take pictures. Aisleboy leaned over again to ask how much longer before Anaheim. "About an hour and a half," I said, and showed him the Amtrak California Timetable. "I told my friend to meet me in 20 minutes." That had been about 20 minutes earlier. "You're not gonna make it." He got back on the cell to inform the buddy of his real arrival time. I mighta been more charitably disposed to inform the guy earlier had he not already annoyed me with incessant nonsensical yammering into his phone.
During the drag through the Valley we made plans to try to switch seats/sides at LAX so we could face foward, and be on the coast side, on the pull out of L.A. Knew it wouldn't be easy as passenger load, already fairly heavy inbound, was sure to increase at LAX. Interesting sight inbound after Glendale (GDL): New Jersey Transit coaches and cab car. My first reaction was "What the...?"
For through Surfliners LAX is a crew change and cafe restocking point. Usually for me that means hit the deck for a smoke. Priority this time, though, was changing seats. I went scoping, found a pair that fit the bill, and called Chris via cellphone to tell him to come on down while I guarded the lucky find in the Superliner coach.
Chris hadn't noticed my travel bag, so neglected to bring it along from our original seats. He sat and guarded while I retrieved the bag and also got to hit the deck for my smoke.
Superliner seats weren't the best. Window, yes, but also a pillar. At least we were facing forward, and actually had seats. More than a few people didn't by this time, and before departure I heard crew suggesting to people that they take the next train (590, a 2-hour wait) if they could. Walking to the cafe for a snack I had to wade through packs of passengers standing, sitting, and crouching on virtually every horizontal surface, including stairs. Looked over the selection, decided I wasn't THAT hungry, and waded back, empty handed, through a throng that musta been quite pleased to be rousted twice for nothing.
Back at the seats we resumed swapping stories, talking about possible dinner options at San Diego, commenting on the views, and generally having a good ol' time as 784 barrelled south. After San Juan Capistrano, southbound, the line starts running on the coast. Sun was still too high in the sky, and too bright, for decent westward photos. By the time the sun was at a perfect position for killer shots we were stuck at Oceanside, with buildings blocking the view of the setting sun. RATS. I hate it when civilization gets in the way. Almost as bad as trees on the insides of sharp curves, interior window reflections, and evil telephone poles unseen until reviewing shots.
Upside of the Oceanside stop was that the train majorly cleared out. We switched seats again to get a better window position. Not that it mattered a whole lot by then; getting dark.
On arrival at SAN we took some time for photography, and Chris claimed a bag, before calling for the hotel courtesy shuttle. Original plan was to stay at a hostel. I'd booked a hotel in case the hostel wasn't available, and that turned out to be the case. Called for the shuttle, only to be told that the service had been discontinued 6 months ago. Knew this to be an outright lie, as I'd used it less than 4 months earlier. We grabbed a cab. Thought we were gonna get killed at the first intersection. Two cabs facing off at a light, ours trying to turn left, the other trying to go straight through, and jerking starts at each other in the middle of the intersection. Bizarre.
At the hotel the hack stopped out front in the street. "Uh, could you drive us up to the office?" "Oh yes." Some people.
Once checked in Chris noted that he was in room 112 for the third hotel in a row and got somewhat weirded out by that fact.
Saxman broke out his laptop almost immediately once in the room, and I broke out mine as well. Problem was that when I tried to log on to the hotel's wireless network it told me that the connection/account was already used. No big at first, since I had pic work to do that didn't require being online. After uploading pics from camera to laptop, and doing the editing thing, I was ready to go online to upload to Picasa for purposes of this report. No go. One connection per room. Chris was still online, I think working on updating his own trip reports, so I called the front desk, explained the situation, and suggested I could use the connection of a room known to be unoccupied. Done.
As for dinner, Sunday evening is tough in the San Diego offseason. The restaurants you want aren't open for dinner. So we ordered for delivery from a place called Broadway Deli. Outstandingly average sandwiches and cold onion rings, washed down with Bud longnecks from the El Cortez Hotel's inconveniently expensive convenience store across the street ($8.37/6-pack!).
I had booked a smoking room (originally a hedge in case Chris could get the hostel but I couldn't), but out of consideration went outside to tend my habit.
Saxman turned in at what I consider an early hour; very understandable in view of the cumulative rigors of his Amtrak megamarathon. I stayed up to wait around for midnight to book the next day's trains (just mine; the Saxman had his) under the spring promo conditions. Took me hours; bad hotel wireless that was eventually resolved. After finally booking Monday's reservations there was no point in going to bed - a measly 90 minutes of shuteye would render me worse off - so while Chris caught Z's I went to the lobby and got more coffee packets and condiments to keep the all-nighter going.
Chris 3 had set his iPhone alarm for 3:30 a.m. at my request. 6:10 train (Surfliner 763), and I'm not a quick morning starter. He was good with rising at 4:30 for us to head for the station around 5. Since I was already up, though, I waited until the alarm went off (very cool science fiction kinda sound), hit the button Chris had told me would shut it off, and headed outside for a smoke and short walk. Pleasant nighttime weather and deserted streets. Later learned that the button was only a snooze deal. The alarm had gone off again while I was out, Chris woke up to kill it again, wondered where I was, and went back to sleep.
Upon returning to the room, and as I was getting set for my shower and other morning tasks, the hotel clock radio went off - LOUD - at about 4 a.m. Somebody had to have left it set, cuz neither Chris nor I had touched it. It was blaring what sounded like a rap version of La Cucaracha (border town thing, I guess) until I bolted from the bathroom and yanked the plug outta the wall. Turned to Chris and said quietly, "Dude, if you can hear me, I never touched the thing."
Left the hotel around 5. I had paid the cabfare to the hotel ($8.60), Chris tipped, so it was his turn for fare and mine to tip. Yappy hack griped about some moron he'd just picked up and kicked out. Thought we were headed to the airport. When we set him straight he said he hadn't turned his meter on, gave us a five-buck flat fare to the station, and started asking about riding trains. Nice guy.
At SAN we both used QuikTrak, both checked bags (mine a dinky sport bag that I just wanted to be rid of for the rides), with Chris' stuff checked through to Minneapolis, and went outside. I tried a few more Amtrak and light rail night shots before we were half-heartedly shooed away and told to wait in the boarding area (we didn't move). Then I lit up a smoke, which got me seriously shooed away from an area I'd never known was non-smoking. Went out by the fountain with the cigarette and used the back of a concrete bench as a photo platform for some zoom work. Chris came over after a time. He'd finally been shooed for standing where he was because, as he was told, other people might start standing there too. Can't have THAT!
When 763's first boarding call came we walked forward to the cab car and took good seats on the inland side of the train. Departure was on time, and I was hoping for some good early morning pics over Miramar grade. Still too dark when we passed. The train filled steadily as we progressed and as the Monday morning sun rose higher in the sky.
Nearing Oceanside we started talking about that diesel-hydraulic (or -mechanical) light rail white elephant known as Sprinter. Pointing out the Sprinter tracks that run closely parallel to the Amtrak main line, I told Chris 3 that we might see one. Sure enough, as we pulled into Oceanside there it was in all its shame and infame, Sprinter: The Little Engine That Couldn't. We amused ourselves for a time by showering the contraption with derision. I launched into my copyrighted epic sonnet, "Sprinter, How Do I Hate Thee? Let Me Count The Ways," but Chris put the kibosh on that when he suddenly decided he needed coffee and a snack. If I didn't know better I mighta thought the haste with which he left meant he didn't wanna hear it!
For a comprehensive badmouthing of the mechanical monstrosity that is Sprinter, see Sprinter: The Little Engine That Couldn't
Oceanside is the southern terminus for Metrolink's Orange County Line, and the northern terminus for San Diego County's Coaster commuter trains. On the way north we'd already passed several inbound Coasters, and beyond Oceanside we began to encounter Metrolink trains. Monday morning rush hour for both systems.
We gathered from in-station announcements (Surfliners have external speakers, and announcements are audible on platforms) that a Metrolink train usually precedes Surfliner 763, and that the altered running order was confusing some passengers waiting on platforms at stations served by both Amtrak and Metrolink. A number of warnings were given at several stations about our train being Amtrak, not Metrolink, and only Metrolink monthly pass holders being able to ride without paying for an Amtrak ticket. Further north the part about "The Metrolink train is running behind us today" was added. I thought that the need for such warnings did not speak well for the cognitive skills of whatever passengers there were who apparently couldn't discern the difference between Metrolink and Amtrak trains. And I wondered if some people assumed that no matter the type of ticket, they were entitled to board anything that came along.
Beginning to feel the effects of my all-nighter, it was time for some coffee. On the long walk from the cab car to the cafe I could see that 763's passenger load was heavy indeed, although unlike 784 the day before nobody was standing. Returning to our seats with the coffee, and pockets full of sugar and little cream things, I commenced adding the condiments. Mixing complete, I replaced the lid on the cup, raised the cup to my mouth... and spilled coffee in my lap cuz I hadn't replaced the lid securely. MrFSS (Tom) will recall a similar instance of this ineptitude aboard a Surfliner in February '08. And I hadn't grabbed a napkin. Setting the cup on the pull-down tray, I dug into a camera bag compartment for a tissue.
With the camera bag stupidly also resting on the tray, next to the coffee, a misplaced nudge while rummaging for tissue sent the coffee over and onto my knees. Great. Chris was sympathetic: "I'll just pretend I don't know you." Not really that big a deal; just looked like I'd been doing some early morning gardening. I'm happy to report that the stains are no more; came right out with a little pre-wash treatment.
Arriving on time into Union Station, we headed over to Philippe's for some serious breakfast before boarding the Coast Starlight north. Chris should really consider a career in professional speedwalking. Though feeling the sad physical impact of old age, I was able to keep up okay as far as the restaurant. Had we gone much further, though, I'm sure I woulda broken down like a rented mule.
Philippe's serves a mean breakfast, 6:00-10:30 a.m., as those of us who partook of group breakfasts there during the L.A. Gathering can well attest. I had gotten the sandwiches the night before, so Chris was up with the breakfast bucks. Our hearty - and reasonably priced - breakfasts really hit the spot, and we returned to Union Station - at a more leisurely pace - to board Train 14. Checking in at Traxx, the makeshift waiting area for 1st Class Coast Starlight passengers only, Chris spoke to the conductor about me - with a Coach ticket - riding up front with him to Oxnard. No problem.
Walking out to the train, I strolled to the head end for pictures while the Saxman got situated in room 12, a lower level roomette. He joined me shortly, I got pics of him with the lead engine, he got some shots of his own, and a fellow passenger took a shot of us both.
This Starlight had a Pacific Parlour Car (yay!), so who cares about the rest of the consist? We did, and it wasn't 'til the sharp curve on departure from LAX that it could clearly be seen that our 14 had 4 coaches. Walking the train after Glendale resulted in disappointment when we found the last coach was closed. RATS.
Back in the PPC, we struck up a conversation with a jovial guy by the name of Ken, and his wife (don't recall her name). They're longtime Starlight riders, big fans of the train, and we passed much of the remainder of my part of the trip talking trains in general and the Starlight in particular. Once again pointed out the Metrolink Death Curve, and the old Santa Susanna station. Ken started talking about reading train blogs (an opening!), so I in turn began my standard Amtrak Unlimited rant, naturally inviting the guy to check us out. Also bragged on Chris' humongous Amtrak undertaking. Ken seemed intrigued as I explained and asked me something like, "So you really do a lot of riding and writing about trains?"
"Ask HIM," I replied, gesturing toward Chris.
"He does that?"
"Yeah, he's a loudmouth."
"Hey, I don't deny it."
Getting close to Oxnard I started hunting around for the sleeper attendant. Not finding him, I decided it'd be best to detrain from Coach, where I KNEW the doors would open. Said so long to the Saxman and headed back to disembark. Sleeper attendant was found hanging out in the diner. Lunch service hadn't yet begun. Said hello in passing, and he asked where I was going. Told I was getting off at Oxnard, he said he hadn't known. With apparently nobody on his manifest to board at OXN, good choice to walk to Coach.
And that's that!
Thanks for inviting me along, Chris 3. It was a blast.
Whooz & Saxman's SAN Turn
Planning was a bit protracted and hectic. If you've been reading saxman66' rolling reports you'll recall that he suffered a major AGR points mixup. It hadn't been resolved by the time he got to my turf, necessitating some last minute changes. Wrinkles were ironed out, and on Sunday, 3-15-09, I took the city bus to OXN to meet the Saxman aboard Pacific Surfliner 784 to San Diego.
As usual I arrived early and took some pics. Some changes have been made around OXN recently, and I took full advantage photowise.
My distaste for cellphones is well known, but they do come in handy when traveling. Called Chris when 784 was about 10 minutes out to ask where he was on the train. Car 3, behind the Superliner.
Climbed aboard, hiked upstairs, found Chris easily, extended my hand, and said...
"Hey, Dude! Good to see you again!"
"Do I know you?"
"WhoozOn1st. Patrick. The Gatherings. We've been e-mailing, and I just talked to you on the phone."
"Oh, right. Didn't recognize you without the stupid hat."
Settled in, 784 got underway, and I started pointing out the various crops, points of interest, places I'd worked, local train stuff, and like that, as we jammed along over the Oxnard Plain toward L.A.
Because we'd both been to the first two Amtrak Unlimited Gatherings (Chicago, Los Angeles) there was reminiscing, exchanging of impressions, and more than a little kibbitzing about AU people, known both online only and in person. To hold over until dinner at SAN Chris got a tamale and a soda from the cafe, but hadn't grabbbed utensils or a napkin. Unable to bear the hideous spectacle of a grown man struggling to eat a tamale like a Hostess fruit pie (fellow passengers gawked in horror), I went and grabbed a napkin and a fork. Unfortunately there were no salsa packets, and it was lucky for Amtrak no cops were aboard. It's illegal (or should be) in California and several other southwestern states to sell tamales without providing some sort of saucelike condiment as well.
While Chris had been getting his tamale the guy across the aisle was noisily telling his friend to meet him at the station in about 20 minutes. Then he leaned over to me and asked "Does this train stop at Anaheim?" "Yes." "Perfect!" Not if his buddy was gonna be at Anaheim in 20 minutes, with the train still about 2 hours away. Never one to meddle with the bliss of ignorance, I said nothing.
Dropping into the San Fernando Valley after traversing the Santa Susanna Pass I pointed out the Metrolink Death Curve outside Chatsworth as we passed over it. Guess I was talking loud enough for other passengers nearby to hear, cuz they started craning around to get a good look too, though there's really nothing to see except new ballast (like they would know that).
We arrived at Van Nuys early, and had to hold for a few minutes to get back on schedule. An unplanned smoke stop was announced, but I passed (Breaking News: Whooz Skips Smoke Stop!). Chris detrained to take pictures. Aisleboy leaned over again to ask how much longer before Anaheim. "About an hour and a half," I said, and showed him the Amtrak California Timetable. "I told my friend to meet me in 20 minutes." That had been about 20 minutes earlier. "You're not gonna make it." He got back on the cell to inform the buddy of his real arrival time. I mighta been more charitably disposed to inform the guy earlier had he not already annoyed me with incessant nonsensical yammering into his phone.
During the drag through the Valley we made plans to try to switch seats/sides at LAX so we could face foward, and be on the coast side, on the pull out of L.A. Knew it wouldn't be easy as passenger load, already fairly heavy inbound, was sure to increase at LAX. Interesting sight inbound after Glendale (GDL): New Jersey Transit coaches and cab car. My first reaction was "What the...?"
For through Surfliners LAX is a crew change and cafe restocking point. Usually for me that means hit the deck for a smoke. Priority this time, though, was changing seats. I went scoping, found a pair that fit the bill, and called Chris via cellphone to tell him to come on down while I guarded the lucky find in the Superliner coach.
Chris hadn't noticed my travel bag, so neglected to bring it along from our original seats. He sat and guarded while I retrieved the bag and also got to hit the deck for my smoke.
Superliner seats weren't the best. Window, yes, but also a pillar. At least we were facing forward, and actually had seats. More than a few people didn't by this time, and before departure I heard crew suggesting to people that they take the next train (590, a 2-hour wait) if they could. Walking to the cafe for a snack I had to wade through packs of passengers standing, sitting, and crouching on virtually every horizontal surface, including stairs. Looked over the selection, decided I wasn't THAT hungry, and waded back, empty handed, through a throng that musta been quite pleased to be rousted twice for nothing.
Back at the seats we resumed swapping stories, talking about possible dinner options at San Diego, commenting on the views, and generally having a good ol' time as 784 barrelled south. After San Juan Capistrano, southbound, the line starts running on the coast. Sun was still too high in the sky, and too bright, for decent westward photos. By the time the sun was at a perfect position for killer shots we were stuck at Oceanside, with buildings blocking the view of the setting sun. RATS. I hate it when civilization gets in the way. Almost as bad as trees on the insides of sharp curves, interior window reflections, and evil telephone poles unseen until reviewing shots.
Upside of the Oceanside stop was that the train majorly cleared out. We switched seats again to get a better window position. Not that it mattered a whole lot by then; getting dark.
On arrival at SAN we took some time for photography, and Chris claimed a bag, before calling for the hotel courtesy shuttle. Original plan was to stay at a hostel. I'd booked a hotel in case the hostel wasn't available, and that turned out to be the case. Called for the shuttle, only to be told that the service had been discontinued 6 months ago. Knew this to be an outright lie, as I'd used it less than 4 months earlier. We grabbed a cab. Thought we were gonna get killed at the first intersection. Two cabs facing off at a light, ours trying to turn left, the other trying to go straight through, and jerking starts at each other in the middle of the intersection. Bizarre.
At the hotel the hack stopped out front in the street. "Uh, could you drive us up to the office?" "Oh yes." Some people.
Once checked in Chris noted that he was in room 112 for the third hotel in a row and got somewhat weirded out by that fact.
Saxman broke out his laptop almost immediately once in the room, and I broke out mine as well. Problem was that when I tried to log on to the hotel's wireless network it told me that the connection/account was already used. No big at first, since I had pic work to do that didn't require being online. After uploading pics from camera to laptop, and doing the editing thing, I was ready to go online to upload to Picasa for purposes of this report. No go. One connection per room. Chris was still online, I think working on updating his own trip reports, so I called the front desk, explained the situation, and suggested I could use the connection of a room known to be unoccupied. Done.
As for dinner, Sunday evening is tough in the San Diego offseason. The restaurants you want aren't open for dinner. So we ordered for delivery from a place called Broadway Deli. Outstandingly average sandwiches and cold onion rings, washed down with Bud longnecks from the El Cortez Hotel's inconveniently expensive convenience store across the street ($8.37/6-pack!).
I had booked a smoking room (originally a hedge in case Chris could get the hostel but I couldn't), but out of consideration went outside to tend my habit.
Saxman turned in at what I consider an early hour; very understandable in view of the cumulative rigors of his Amtrak megamarathon. I stayed up to wait around for midnight to book the next day's trains (just mine; the Saxman had his) under the spring promo conditions. Took me hours; bad hotel wireless that was eventually resolved. After finally booking Monday's reservations there was no point in going to bed - a measly 90 minutes of shuteye would render me worse off - so while Chris caught Z's I went to the lobby and got more coffee packets and condiments to keep the all-nighter going.
Chris 3 had set his iPhone alarm for 3:30 a.m. at my request. 6:10 train (Surfliner 763), and I'm not a quick morning starter. He was good with rising at 4:30 for us to head for the station around 5. Since I was already up, though, I waited until the alarm went off (very cool science fiction kinda sound), hit the button Chris had told me would shut it off, and headed outside for a smoke and short walk. Pleasant nighttime weather and deserted streets. Later learned that the button was only a snooze deal. The alarm had gone off again while I was out, Chris woke up to kill it again, wondered where I was, and went back to sleep.
Upon returning to the room, and as I was getting set for my shower and other morning tasks, the hotel clock radio went off - LOUD - at about 4 a.m. Somebody had to have left it set, cuz neither Chris nor I had touched it. It was blaring what sounded like a rap version of La Cucaracha (border town thing, I guess) until I bolted from the bathroom and yanked the plug outta the wall. Turned to Chris and said quietly, "Dude, if you can hear me, I never touched the thing."
Left the hotel around 5. I had paid the cabfare to the hotel ($8.60), Chris tipped, so it was his turn for fare and mine to tip. Yappy hack griped about some moron he'd just picked up and kicked out. Thought we were headed to the airport. When we set him straight he said he hadn't turned his meter on, gave us a five-buck flat fare to the station, and started asking about riding trains. Nice guy.
At SAN we both used QuikTrak, both checked bags (mine a dinky sport bag that I just wanted to be rid of for the rides), with Chris' stuff checked through to Minneapolis, and went outside. I tried a few more Amtrak and light rail night shots before we were half-heartedly shooed away and told to wait in the boarding area (we didn't move). Then I lit up a smoke, which got me seriously shooed away from an area I'd never known was non-smoking. Went out by the fountain with the cigarette and used the back of a concrete bench as a photo platform for some zoom work. Chris came over after a time. He'd finally been shooed for standing where he was because, as he was told, other people might start standing there too. Can't have THAT!
When 763's first boarding call came we walked forward to the cab car and took good seats on the inland side of the train. Departure was on time, and I was hoping for some good early morning pics over Miramar grade. Still too dark when we passed. The train filled steadily as we progressed and as the Monday morning sun rose higher in the sky.
Nearing Oceanside we started talking about that diesel-hydraulic (or -mechanical) light rail white elephant known as Sprinter. Pointing out the Sprinter tracks that run closely parallel to the Amtrak main line, I told Chris 3 that we might see one. Sure enough, as we pulled into Oceanside there it was in all its shame and infame, Sprinter: The Little Engine That Couldn't. We amused ourselves for a time by showering the contraption with derision. I launched into my copyrighted epic sonnet, "Sprinter, How Do I Hate Thee? Let Me Count The Ways," but Chris put the kibosh on that when he suddenly decided he needed coffee and a snack. If I didn't know better I mighta thought the haste with which he left meant he didn't wanna hear it!
For a comprehensive badmouthing of the mechanical monstrosity that is Sprinter, see Sprinter: The Little Engine That Couldn't
Oceanside is the southern terminus for Metrolink's Orange County Line, and the northern terminus for San Diego County's Coaster commuter trains. On the way north we'd already passed several inbound Coasters, and beyond Oceanside we began to encounter Metrolink trains. Monday morning rush hour for both systems.
We gathered from in-station announcements (Surfliners have external speakers, and announcements are audible on platforms) that a Metrolink train usually precedes Surfliner 763, and that the altered running order was confusing some passengers waiting on platforms at stations served by both Amtrak and Metrolink. A number of warnings were given at several stations about our train being Amtrak, not Metrolink, and only Metrolink monthly pass holders being able to ride without paying for an Amtrak ticket. Further north the part about "The Metrolink train is running behind us today" was added. I thought that the need for such warnings did not speak well for the cognitive skills of whatever passengers there were who apparently couldn't discern the difference between Metrolink and Amtrak trains. And I wondered if some people assumed that no matter the type of ticket, they were entitled to board anything that came along.
Beginning to feel the effects of my all-nighter, it was time for some coffee. On the long walk from the cab car to the cafe I could see that 763's passenger load was heavy indeed, although unlike 784 the day before nobody was standing. Returning to our seats with the coffee, and pockets full of sugar and little cream things, I commenced adding the condiments. Mixing complete, I replaced the lid on the cup, raised the cup to my mouth... and spilled coffee in my lap cuz I hadn't replaced the lid securely. MrFSS (Tom) will recall a similar instance of this ineptitude aboard a Surfliner in February '08. And I hadn't grabbed a napkin. Setting the cup on the pull-down tray, I dug into a camera bag compartment for a tissue.
With the camera bag stupidly also resting on the tray, next to the coffee, a misplaced nudge while rummaging for tissue sent the coffee over and onto my knees. Great. Chris was sympathetic: "I'll just pretend I don't know you." Not really that big a deal; just looked like I'd been doing some early morning gardening. I'm happy to report that the stains are no more; came right out with a little pre-wash treatment.
Arriving on time into Union Station, we headed over to Philippe's for some serious breakfast before boarding the Coast Starlight north. Chris should really consider a career in professional speedwalking. Though feeling the sad physical impact of old age, I was able to keep up okay as far as the restaurant. Had we gone much further, though, I'm sure I woulda broken down like a rented mule.
Philippe's serves a mean breakfast, 6:00-10:30 a.m., as those of us who partook of group breakfasts there during the L.A. Gathering can well attest. I had gotten the sandwiches the night before, so Chris was up with the breakfast bucks. Our hearty - and reasonably priced - breakfasts really hit the spot, and we returned to Union Station - at a more leisurely pace - to board Train 14. Checking in at Traxx, the makeshift waiting area for 1st Class Coast Starlight passengers only, Chris spoke to the conductor about me - with a Coach ticket - riding up front with him to Oxnard. No problem.
Walking out to the train, I strolled to the head end for pictures while the Saxman got situated in room 12, a lower level roomette. He joined me shortly, I got pics of him with the lead engine, he got some shots of his own, and a fellow passenger took a shot of us both.
This Starlight had a Pacific Parlour Car (yay!), so who cares about the rest of the consist? We did, and it wasn't 'til the sharp curve on departure from LAX that it could clearly be seen that our 14 had 4 coaches. Walking the train after Glendale resulted in disappointment when we found the last coach was closed. RATS.
Back in the PPC, we struck up a conversation with a jovial guy by the name of Ken, and his wife (don't recall her name). They're longtime Starlight riders, big fans of the train, and we passed much of the remainder of my part of the trip talking trains in general and the Starlight in particular. Once again pointed out the Metrolink Death Curve, and the old Santa Susanna station. Ken started talking about reading train blogs (an opening!), so I in turn began my standard Amtrak Unlimited rant, naturally inviting the guy to check us out. Also bragged on Chris' humongous Amtrak undertaking. Ken seemed intrigued as I explained and asked me something like, "So you really do a lot of riding and writing about trains?"
"Ask HIM," I replied, gesturing toward Chris.
"He does that?"
"Yeah, he's a loudmouth."
"Hey, I don't deny it."
Getting close to Oxnard I started hunting around for the sleeper attendant. Not finding him, I decided it'd be best to detrain from Coach, where I KNEW the doors would open. Said so long to the Saxman and headed back to disembark. Sleeper attendant was found hanging out in the diner. Lunch service hadn't yet begun. Said hello in passing, and he asked where I was going. Told I was getting off at Oxnard, he said he hadn't known. With apparently nobody on his manifest to board at OXN, good choice to walk to Coach.
And that's that!
Thanks for inviting me along, Chris 3. It was a blast.
Whooz & Saxman's SAN Turn
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), I have ~45min at OXN, during which time I usually go to the nearby Coldstone, but, as I told Whooz, 'you're far more interesting than any ice cream.'
