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“Trees Are Our Roots” 8099 Bavaria Rd * Victoria * 952-443-2990 |
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At 10:00 p.m. on the night of Tuesday, July 10th, 2018, we stepped onto the train in St. Paul, one of Amtrak's many stops as it goes from the east coast to the west coast. As some of you know, we've become familiar with train travel these past ten years, since our daughter and family moved to Tioga, ND. Ten years ago I didn't know how to pronounce it. It rhymes with My Yoga. The entire trip remains an adventure to us from beginning to end, a familiar adventure. We leave our home in Victoria at 9 p.m., arrive at Union Depot in St. Paul 45 minutes later, park in a secured lot a couple blocks away, walk to the depot, and take the long ground level escalators to the top floor of the exalted building with the vaulted ceiling, high windows, and painted murals. It's exciting to see the train and its bright white headlight, off in the distance, coming down the track toward the depot. Do you recall the final scene of "Anna Karenina"? Rather morbid, I know, but it always comes to mind when I'm near moving trains. When I'm near moving cars, Belfast, Ireland, now comes to mind. Since it's late and usually beyond dinner time when we board the train, our sleep car has already been transformed for us from two lounge chairs into bunk beds. Only once or twice in these past years have we been able to have dinner on the train. That's because only once or twice has the train arrived in Minneapolis early as we begin the Amtrak adventure. The steak and potatoes meal is very good and also "free" for sleep-car passengers. But the wine is not free. In any case, we learned early on that it's okay to stay in our day-clothes rather than change into jammies for the overnight, so all we need to do is brush our teeth and crawl into bed. Usually I take the top bunk because I'm smaller and more limber. This time, for the first time, we felt it safer for me to take the bottom bunk. I'm going to milk the Belfast episode for all it's worth. Neither Allan nor I sleep soundly, with the jostling of the train cars, the train stops and train whistles at every road intersection throughout the night. But we're very, very comfortable and we appreciate the prone position rather than the upright seats in the coach section, which are like on a plane or a bus. Coach seats are also comfortable but not for me, for ten hours straight. When we wake in the morning, with light sneaking in at the edges of the closed drapes, we're often at Devil's Lake which is the largest natural occurring lake in North Dakota. The largest lake in ND is Sakakawea, which has become familiar to us and is only 20 minutes from Jenny's home. Lake Sakakawea was created when the Missouri River was dammed up. At Devil's Lake, just outside our windows, we see expansive fields of bright yellow canola. We used to think it was some sort of mustard field. And then around 7 a.m. we make our way to the dining car for breakfast. On our way to breakfast we walk through two or three coach cars, where passengers are either balled up sleeping or glued to their phone, and the observation car, which usually has no empty seats by the time we get there. That's okay. We enjoy coffee alone in our room. Both levels of each sleeper car are provided "free" coffee and orange juice. Allan usually orders an abundant omelette and I usually get the bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast. The help staff are friendly and efficient. Again, everything on the menu is "free" for those in sleeper cars, but we always leave a tip. On the west side of Minot, the land becomes like the Wild West. I can see Cowboys and Indians on their horses, climbing the ravines, skirting the hills, sleeping under the stars, and wagon trains circled for the night. Then we start to see the oil rigs and numbered hills and know firsthand that mankind continues to explore and have dominion over all the earth. In some ways, the Wild West is still wild. In other ways, it is more tame and sane than Victoria, Minnesota. Jenny calls and says she's on her way to Stanley, the Amtrak stop 30 miles east of Tioga. There's excitement in our voices. She picks up dog food and chicken feed at the farm supply store and then us at the train station. We hug and talk a mile a minute all the way home. Christopher is at the office. Addie is babysitting. Gunnar is mowing for a neighbor. We drive onto their lovely acreage one mile from town. It's pretty and peaceful -- until we get out of the car. Goliath and Lucy are excited that their friend Jenny has returned. The newfies sniff me and Allan and remember that we're family. Ten-hour trips have been numerous in my life. It was ten hours to Indian River, Michigan; ten hours to Springfield, Illinois; ten hours to St. Louis, Missouri; and it is ten hours to Tioga, North Dakota. |
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From the Editor |
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Dedicated to the sunshine of truth, the moonshine of meeting deadlines, and the starshine of Victoria. |
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The Victoria GAZETTE |
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Sue’s Album A symphony of photos and fewer than a thousand words at www.VictoriaGazette.com |
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August 2018 |
