When Elenka, Lynn and I boarded Amtrak's west-coast Seattle to Los Angeles train we were almost immediately warned by an officious man over the public address system that smokin' or drinkin' our own alcohol meant that we'd be led off the train at the next stop in cuffs to a waiting police car where we'd be fined $10,000 and have to spend two years in jail. Cussin' wasn't permitted either because there were children on board.

Elenka had rotator cuff surgery a couple of weeks before this trip and requires an ice-pack for her shoulder every couple of hours. On one of my trips to pick up some ice I couldn't find the attendant, so I simply bent my head over and looked into the bucket to see how much ice was available. Suddenly, a booming voice came from behind, "Stand away from the ice, Sir!". 
 It was just like the cop shows on television. I instinctively put my hands behind my head and froze, fearing a baton, taser, maybe a bullet. Thankfully, we were getting off in Sacramento. 

I nervously walked the streets of California's capitol for five hours with Elenka and Lynn. If the happy-go-lucky west-coasters acted like this, the next leg of our journey through the mountains and into the mid-west to Chicago would be pure hell. I fully expected the rules to be far worse and that everyone would be toting a side-arm and praying for forgiveness for one thing or another all the way to Chicago.

Oh, I mustn't miss mentioning our visit to the State Capitol building in Sacramento. To get in you've got to empty your pockets and go through a scanner. The spiffily dressed guard looked at my change and pointed to a Canadian $2 coin, "Is that lira, Sir?"
"Yes," I said, "Canadian lira," thinking I was making a funny. The man just nodded his head up and down, impressed with his find.  
 
The train to Chicago turned out to be a surprise. There were signs on this train that told passengers they couldn't smoke. And that seemed to be enough because we were warned no further. Booze ran freely from backpacks and suit cases, and although cussin' wasn't encouraged, it wasn't frowned upon either, as drunk train travellers do tend to use the odd cuss word. And there wasn't one threat of imprisonment during the entire trip. 

We wound up in a bit of a sticky wicket at Vail, Colorado. Track repairs were required because of falling rocks which caused a better than four hour delay. This meant that  Hertz, where we'd arranged to pick up a car in Chicago, would be closed when we arrived. There was no internet on the train and we three happen to be the only cell phone-less people in North America. But someone on the west-coast line must have been praying for us. Low and behold if we weren't blessed by the appearance of Kileen Prathe,r a tour guide with Vacations By Rail, who was responsible for the happiness of a group of forty-five travellers. Kileen spent a good hour-and-a-half dealing with our dilemma and when it was all said and done we had our car, at an even better rental rate.

Amtrak's lengthy routes need to be compared with Canada's Via Rail's similar routes. Here goes:

The bi-polar staff of Amtrak: While Nathan, our train car attendant from Sacramento to Chicago went way out of his way to be helpful, the attendant from Seattle to Sacramento wouldn't even set up our beds when it came time to crawl in. Via, as far as I could make out hires only Nathan types.  

Accommodation: The beds on Via are larger and far more comfortable than on Amtrak. You can't even see out the window from the top bunk on Amtrak. 

Food: Via serves exquisite high end chow. By the second day of our cross-country segment with Amtrak they started running out of food. For our final meal I wound up eating something I'd never tried before - Kraft dinner from the kids menu. 

Cost: It's actually marginally less expensive to do Via's Toronto to Vancouver route than it is to go from Seattle to Chicago.

Kileen, why not dump Amtrak and run tours on Via's Toronto to Vancouver run? The scenery in Canada is as good, if not better, and it would be a lot less stressful for you. You're great at what you do. Come on up to the Great-White North.



To the background of our journey:


This trip started with a flight from Toronto to Vancouver, where we met up with friends Ingrid and Ian who gave us one of those 15 kilometre walking tours. The following morning we took the train to Seattle where we met up with friends Mary and Brian who graciously offered us a place to stay for the night. Elenka and I met Mary and Brian 10 years ago in Ecuador, and that was the one-and-only time. It was kind of funny - we'd forgotten what they looked like and ditto for them, so I devised a plan. We waited until the train station had mostly cleared and then I just walked about calling the name "Brian" until someone looked my way. It worked on the second try. Seattle turned out to be a much less strenuous visit. We did do a short beach walk, but Brian preferred cocktails over hiking, and that I think, made us all happy. Elenka is still talking about the margaritas at the little Mexican beach bar where we hunkered down. 
  
Because we got to Chicago late we had to take the subway - it's called the 'L' and it mostly travels above ground - to pick up our car at Midway airport. Two nights later we were in St. Louis for baseball and conversations with very friendly mid-Westerners ... oh, we did manage to catch a Mariners game in Seattle too.

Back in Chicago I broached the idea of seeing a Cubs game from one of the rooftops beyond Wrigley Field. For around $70 you get a seat and all you can eat and drink. It's a different way to do a game and I thought Elenka and Lynn would welcome the opportunity. But it didn't work out so well. In fact I got glared at and not spoken to for more than an hour. 

When it was all said and done we must have walked 150 kilometres through the streets of Vancouver, Sacramento, St. Louis and Chicago. It got so crazy I faked a blister on my foot. But blister or not I'd probably have walked another 50K just to see the Cardinals' new confines. St. Louis was my 27th major league ballpark.