One of the most beautiful train journeys I've had to date. From Bellingham, Washington to Portland, Oregon over snowy tracks, across frigid waters, and alongside towering mountains. Definitely the most beautiful I've ever had in the United States.
It was my first.
Icy wind blows snow dust soft as down, fluffily floating over dark waters. Chalk soot and pale sapphire stand frozen in complicated patterns of cracks and lines, spider webbing across the water. Rocks cold as ice dance back and forth across sandy patches. Frosty spikes of timber poke heads above the charcoal waters, capped by a white hat of snow.
The delicate moon still hangs as daylight creeps over the water. Freezing blue meets the morning sun on the horizon still darkened by black hills. Clouds float pink above dark waters. White peaks cut baby blue skies across a bay. First sunlight beams a pathway across the water blinding your cold face, guiding you straight to the center.
Sun tops the trees. One dash of bright green amongst white pines and brown bark. Snowfields run endlessly flanked by red timber. Struggling stalks poke through arctic tundra, kissing the cold air, wishing for spring.
The continuous purr of the steel against steel is often broken by the howl of the train’s whistle. Which is better, the journey or the destination? In the company of quiet strangers all facing forward, all thinking their own thoughts, all the staring outside, all lost in the music, the movie, the silence.
Small towns. RVs, SUVs, and auto shops. Train cars, taverns, warehouses. Fast food, icy hills, overpasses. Smoke stacks and brick buildings. Christmas cookies reflected in the condensation saturated windows. The red light flashes as the train idles across roads. Cars stop. Exhaust exhales into brisk air, coughing forth from cars.
And then my thoughts were disrupted.
We hit a car.
We had to change trains in Seattle; 6.5 hours became 9. And where did the heat go during the last 2 hours?
Maybe it'll be my last.
