Traveling by Train
Riding a train is one way to see America. The wanderlust in me is attracted to the curve of the train, the all aboard, the uniform of Amtrak. I like leaving an old place and arriving somewhere new--even if I have been there before. I hate seeing people off, for this reason, to be the one to stay. Since the age of five I have wanted to go.
And so I have been the one to go. Mighty adventures. Train. Plane. Ship. Canoe. Feet up and over peaks. Beneath the water, a memory of my father diving into Blue Lake (I think it's called) near Wendover. Driving across smooth, salty lake bottom to a warm hole of water in early spring. Later we'd dive near Santa Barbara and Catalina together. And then with friends near Malaysia where I'd see ocean bioluminescence for the first time, my first night dive.
I think about my dad and his love of firsts. He claims they are getting harder to come by in his old age of 61. I think about what he has passed on to his daughter. The want of things new, maybe to pass the time. Maybe to keep the time. There is a difference.
When Tad and I had been married three years and I had been teaching one year, I planned a solo train trip cross country, stopping in places to see friends and family. Amy and Sam's Philly. The Steele's of Raleigh, NC. T. Lee's Austin and her igneous batholith and Tad's birthplace. UCSB, my alma mater. San Francisco and Jason and wine and bridges and redwoods. Truckee, CA to see John and Sarah and Puddy, Emerald lakes and mountains with snow. Salt Lake City, a four hour drive and a three or four hour backpack to Burntfork, a first that never stops being a first. That's how beautiful it is. Last stop Boulder, CO to remember why we don't want to live there (though the landscape is stunning) and to visit little girls who aren't little anymore. Long stretch to Boston and then Gloucester.
I remain struck by the beauty and the ugliness that is this country. By backyards of America, rubbish and rust. Colorado evergreens, muddy iron peaks, a train that can get through rock. Long stretch of river, the hypnotizing rhythm of a moving train.
It is in the height of need to wander that I think about my train travels. The novelty and the familiarity. The getting out and away to return feeling renewed. I need a good train trip about now. I need to eat bad food and listen to people hacking and snoring. To realize that an Amtrak train can hardly be on time, so why wear a watch? I need to look into eyes for the first time and hear stories about how they met. Hear stories about where they are going.
I need a good travel fix. And Dad, like you, I need firsts.
And so I have been the one to go. Mighty adventures. Train. Plane. Ship. Canoe. Feet up and over peaks. Beneath the water, a memory of my father diving into Blue Lake (I think it's called) near Wendover. Driving across smooth, salty lake bottom to a warm hole of water in early spring. Later we'd dive near Santa Barbara and Catalina together. And then with friends near Malaysia where I'd see ocean bioluminescence for the first time, my first night dive.
I think about my dad and his love of firsts. He claims they are getting harder to come by in his old age of 61. I think about what he has passed on to his daughter. The want of things new, maybe to pass the time. Maybe to keep the time. There is a difference.
When Tad and I had been married three years and I had been teaching one year, I planned a solo train trip cross country, stopping in places to see friends and family. Amy and Sam's Philly. The Steele's of Raleigh, NC. T. Lee's Austin and her igneous batholith and Tad's birthplace. UCSB, my alma mater. San Francisco and Jason and wine and bridges and redwoods. Truckee, CA to see John and Sarah and Puddy, Emerald lakes and mountains with snow. Salt Lake City, a four hour drive and a three or four hour backpack to Burntfork, a first that never stops being a first. That's how beautiful it is. Last stop Boulder, CO to remember why we don't want to live there (though the landscape is stunning) and to visit little girls who aren't little anymore. Long stretch to Boston and then Gloucester.
I remain struck by the beauty and the ugliness that is this country. By backyards of America, rubbish and rust. Colorado evergreens, muddy iron peaks, a train that can get through rock. Long stretch of river, the hypnotizing rhythm of a moving train.
It is in the height of need to wander that I think about my train travels. The novelty and the familiarity. The getting out and away to return feeling renewed. I need a good train trip about now. I need to eat bad food and listen to people hacking and snoring. To realize that an Amtrak train can hardly be on time, so why wear a watch? I need to look into eyes for the first time and hear stories about how they met. Hear stories about where they are going.
I need a good travel fix. And Dad, like you, I need firsts.
posted by Jane | 8:55 AM
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