Yesterday was a light day. Went out for breakfast at the Omelet House in Summerlin, and then caught a matinee showing of Beowulf in 3-D. The movie was entertaining enough but I am unsure about the 3-D effect. Things have stepped up a few notches since the days of paper glasses with one side green and the other red. The glasses we got were more like a cheap pair of sunglasses and cost almost as much at $2.50 a pair. Yet another expense to add to the movie-going experience. 3-D was amusing enough but I found it somewhat distracting.
Afterwards we ditched Al at home and Barb and I went out shopping for a new audio system for the front room. We eventually settled on a Sony and got it set up at home in a relatively short amount of time. Famished once again we enjoyed dinner at a nearby Olive Garden, and then came home for more quality time. Even got to learn a competitive marble game called Wahoo that Barb and Al enjoy. I won both rounds played, but with helpful instruction from my more seasoned players.
Getting out of Vegas was a breeze. Hopped an Amtrak California bus bound for Bakersfield, with a few stops along the way to snag a decaf Americano in Baker, grab a couple of burgers in Barstow, and stretch the legs in Tehachapi.
Baker, California.
Wow, whatever photos the girls across from me are perusing on their cell phone, it is amusing them to no end.
And so we are off for parts north. I should be in Modesto in about three-and-a-half hours, and the friendly confines of the Pelican household another hour up the hill in Sonora. I hear there are bottles of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale up in the lounge car for $4.50, and I've not embraced sweet alcohol since Saturday morning breakfast with Barb. And so it begins...
Beer one paid for and consumed. Down in the San Joaquin Valley it is one of the flattest stretches of earth one could imagine. And every scrap of land is utilized. Mostly for farming, but with pockets of habitation and industry speckled about.
One thing evident about train travel in this country is that most railroads run through where the poor and underemployed reside. Dusty neighborhoods, rundown homes, junked automobiles, grimy liquor stores and Kwik-E-Marts, graffiti and litter. The valley is not immune to these things. They come upon you intermittently as you course down the tracks. One can only imagine how the culture of mega-agriculture has taken the people who work these fields, uses then up and leaves them by the wayside. Another hamburger wrapper caught in the fence.
Sun is about a half-hour or less from going down the flat horizon. A dual-mirror sunset reflects against my window facing east. It's almost like watching the old MasterCard symbol setting against the opposite horizon. How often does one get to watch three sunsets simultaneously? The lone sun in the west is difficult to gaze upon, whereas the twins dropping in the east gives me the urge to spend on credit.
Maybe I should settle for another beer instead. It would only cost me a Lincoln out of my pocket.
My suns are now obscured by clouds. So much for the light show, instead I am greeted with a vista of plowed fields with only some telephone poles, near and far, to gauge the distance.
5:00pm - I'm somewhere south of Fresno. Darkness slowly descends. It will be pitch-black in little over an hour. It's most interesting to be facing backwards from the direction of travel. I've been looking at places to come the entirety of this trip, and now I get to see where I came from. It's not so much of the anticipation of coming upon your destination, but of watching the world go by. It's rather liberating. Or it's just the beer.
Ah, sweet alcohol! Equalizer of all, humbler of the most privileged. Its intoxicating embrace may embolden the arrogant and served, but soon the downfall comes. And we are all rendered prostate, wallowing in a sea of vomit, cigarette butts, pizza crusts and black eyes. Crying out for salvation and redemption, but finding none.
5:54pm - Had a break in Fresno to get out and get some fresh air, but found none amidst the haze of cigarette smoke. Three more stops before Modesto. I lost the young women and their traveling beau back in Corcoran. In Fresno, I picked up a young man with an oversized Dodgers cap with level-flat bill, and a cell phone affixed to his ear.
In all my travels of late the most time I spent yammering on the phone was back in Chicago when I was waiting for my carry-out deep dish and lamenting over my freshly injured heel. Misery loves company.
As for the heel, it has improved considerably but still aches against the pressure of my shoe. Back in Vegas, Al remarked about a similar injury and how it continues to lament, a minor pain that flares up from time to time. Just what I need to complement the bent toe that has plagued me for close to twenty years.
I should retire from writing for now and prepare for deboarding in little over an hour. Three beers have really fueled my train of thought – Ha! 'train' of thought – and the concept of riding like this through the night, drinking and typing has some appeal. It's so much better than the usual dry travelogue I'm likely to serve. Having immediate access to compose one thoughts is a nice use of time pondering thoughts that would otherwise go off into the ether, unremarked.
Outside of Merced, we got an announcement indicating a delay ahead at Modesto, where officers were scheduled to board the train with dogs. No doubt a DEA spot check, but I've not remembered ever being told in advance. So we pull in and out of the station in Turlock, the lone stop between Merced and Modesto, and again we get an announcement. This time we were told that the delay in Modesto would not happen. Officers back in Turlock had apprehended the suspect they were looking for. I could only assume the original alert indicating a check in Modesto was a scam to get their suspect, or whoever would have a reason to avoid the spot check, by nailing them as they left the train on the stop before.
Back in Vegas, Barb and I perused portable computers and we left her pursuit leaning towards tablets over laptops. They are significantly lighter, although the smaller keyboard would be an adjustment for me. And they would certainly make an adequate platform for entertainment. I do lament not bringing any music or videos along for the trip. There are brief times when a distraction of my choosing would be welcome. And who knows? I'd like to think that Beavis and Butt-head would be great way to break the ice on a long, boring bus ride. As I found out on the bus to Chicago, people are content to watch anything. Might as well be something of my choice.
Nov. 28, 7:10am - Sitting on the couch which has doubled as my bed for the last two nights. A surprisingly restful sleep. Of course the first night's slumber might have had something to do with the three Sierra Nevada Pale Ales on the train followed by another one once seated at the kitchen table of the Pelican household. Oh, and there was the bottle of Bushmills that Tim and I almost killed. Along with Julie we stayed up to the wee hours in heated debate over foreign policy issues, mostly dealing with countries beginning with 'I.'
Next morning Tim fixed up a yam frittata with chunks of potatoes and sautéed onions, topped with pepper jack cheese. Once fed and doped up on coffee, Tim, Jules and I drove over to Twain Harte to walk the Sugar Pine Railroad Trail. An old logging line winding its way through manzanilla and Ponderosa and digger pines, we walked the trail for three miles before turning back.
I scooped up some Clementine-sized buckeyes along the way. Earlier in the day while perusing the Union Democrat on the potty I read an article where officials at a local elementary school located near a walnut grove have banned the possession of walnuts by students for fear of their potential use as projectile weapons. I figure I could give the unarmed youth a taste for the apparently legal buckeyes, and then come back at them with a few baskets, but for a price.
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Afterwards we took a side trip to go see the grandchild. Rylen is a big baby at 13 weeks, weighing in at 17 ½ pounds. Timber was the quintessential proud grandparent, cradling Rylen in his arms until the sleepy little guy tired of his attentions and sought out for Mom.
Back home Tim fixed up a spaghetti dinner with turkey sausage meatballs swimming in a sauce made from backyard tomatoes, ladled over whole wheat pasta. We spent the afternoon spinning a DVD of Planet Terror, followed by Moondance and City of God on the Independent Film Channel.
Will be making the ride downhill to the Modesto station soon so I best close up shop. Looking at hitting the Bagel Bin in downtown Sonora along the way and check out the salmon run in the Stanislaus River.
Nov. 29, 6:40am - Sitting up in bed at the Sands Regency in Reno. The view of the neon lights at Circus Circus leaves something to be desired, as does the local news. I have to settle for a station in the Bay area.
The bagels were good. The salmon run nonexistent. There was an article in the paper indicating salmon levels were down. Likely that we came to peruse too late, but it made for a nice diversion down the hill.
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We made our goodbyes at the station and I caught the train for Sacramento. About ten minutes into the trip we come to a stop just after crossing State Route 120. An announcement explained that there were indications of a broken rail ahead. And so we sat there for a good half hour until we got the go ahead to proceed through the area in question but only at ten miles per hour. By the time we got back up to speed we were running an hour late.
Pulling into the Sacramento Amtrak station 45 minutes late we go straight to the buses awaiting our arrival. I caught a strong wireless signal just as we pulled out, the best I could do was download a few shopping and travel service emails.
I spent most of the trip over the hump relaxing and getting a little sleep on the ascent. I was awake for the ride through Donner Summit and descent down through Truckee and on into Reno. Along the way I spotted many signs of the fires that ravaged the pass a few years ago.
Still had some sunlight for the ten minute walk over to the Sands. The outside could really use a facelift. Coming in through the casino I see that Terrible Herbst has acquired the property. I got to my room to search for a free wireless signal, but found none.
And so I prettied up and went out into the chilly night air. I was hoping to quaff my first drink at the El Cortez Lounge, but was disappoint to see the bar closed for renovations. That and the riot act on acceptable dress for patrons plastered over the windows indicate I'll never be making a return trip.
I did find a joint called Pizza Reno where I drained a pint of pale ale. The specialty pizzas listed were most imaginative and whetted my appetite. It was early in the evening so I grabbed a menu and walked down to the riverfront. I came upon a joint called the Sierra Tap House where I quaffed an India Pale Ale while watching the History Channel.
Afterwards on my wanderings I came across an Internet cafe. Once I get washed up this morning I plan on hitting them for a cup of joe. Back to last evening, I had another pale ale at 3rd Street Blues not too far from the hotel. I played a few rounds of video poker and made my way north of the hotel and found J.J.'s Pie on W. Fifth St. The crowd looked friendly inside, but I was looking for a bar I had found on Google Earth called The Patio. It was just across the street, so I thought I'd go in for a few and hit the pizza joint afterwards.
The Patio is a gay/lesbian bar insofar as it being a sanctuary for one seeking a safe, friendly place to be yourself, and indeed it was. The barkeep and the few patrons there welcomed me as we regaled over our respective travel horror stories. I was even given a tour of the place and some insight to its history. The establishment was carved out of a house built in the 1940's, and some structural aspects still hinted to that. Even the kitchen cabinetry was still relatively intact.
I downed a very light beer, should have stuck with Sierra Nevada. Feeling the effects of my imbibery, I switched over to a couple pints of water and lemon to rehydrate and gather my bearings. Finished I made my goodbyes with handshakes and hugs, and even a peck on the cheek from the woman who gave me the guided tour. My only regret was not going there sooner in the evening, but I would have missed out on some reacquainting with the city near by me. If I only had another night or two, I could return and continue my perusal of downtown and the Riverwalk.
I popped back over the street to J.J.'s and downed a pale ale there while waiting for my specialty pizza, the Valdez, with chorizo, jalapenos, tomatoes, sausage, bell peppers and cumin. It made for a spicy pizza indeed.
Its eight am now and time to get around. Need to shower, pack up, hit the Internet cafe, and maybe get breakfast. I've been told of a place called Peg's to peruse. We shall see.
7:10pm - Hurtling through the black night of northern Nevada. We've been paralleling I-80 since leaving Reno, but I've lost sight of it. I think we've veered off north of it, there are lights strung across to the south.
I found the Internet cafe called Electronic Espresso I had spotted the day before but it was being remodeled. Spotted a gay bar, the Five Star Saloon, that offered wireless access, but I opted to cross the river and go to Dreamer's Coffee House, a joint I frequented the last time I came through Reno. Got a cup of joe and went through my emails. Finished I jotted down the street to hit Wells Fargo, and then sought out breakfast.
What I found was a place called Peg's Glorified Ham and Eggs, and what a place indeed. The joint was busy and one look at the menu indicated as such with some fantastic breakfast combinations and a slew of Benedict dishes. I opted for one of the specials, the Southwest Benny. Fried tortilla quarters topped with eggs and a chile relleno. Hash browns and a tomato corn relish completed the dish.
After polishing off my repast I went down to the train station to make out the lay of the land. Boredom soon crept in and I walked the downtown streets for awhile before settling in at Pizza Reno for a couple of slices of pepperoni and Pepsi. Back to the station I went, boarding the train around a quarter after three.
Coming into Elko. Won't be here too much, Salt Lake City in five-and-a-half hours.
| Photos from the Picasa Web Albums: Las Vegas to Reno and Sugar Pine Railway Strawberry Branch Trail |
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