Views From Afar

One of the many fantasies that infected my young mind growing up was the idea of road trips. I can still remember wandering through the Saint Paul Union Depot when I was going to school downtown. I felt tiny among the passengers crowded around the wooden benches waiting for their trains and marveled at the sight of those large black locomotives and passenger cars pulling out of the station.

Later on, in my teen years, the appeal of the ‘open road’ got even more attractive. It didn’t help that the language, angst and music of the times only served to reinforce that iconic image. The Beats were always moving around the country. Adventurous kids my age were exploring the great outdoors and endurance events captured my imagination.

I’m told that when my sister and I were still in diapers when my mother took us out to California by train for a promised job that never materialized. Marlene got sick and our mother brought us back to Minnesota. As legend has it, I was fascinated with train travel even back then as a toddler. So much for California train travel until recently.

I’ve always had this fascination with ‘riding the rails.’ It’s one of many fantasy journeys like circumventing the globe on a tramp steamer that I never did fulfill. Sharon and I got our first taste of Amtrak travel several years ago when we took a trip from Annapolis, Maryland to Manhattan, New York. We’ve done that trip several times since then.

Switching coasts, San Diego’s Old Towne transit hub was the starting off point for our last steel-rail venture. Old Towne is the second stop for the Amtrak Surf liner that travels from San Diego up the coast to Santa Barbara. Old Towne Station presented a fascinating cornucopia of transportation modes. Commuter trains, regional rails, buses, cars, Uber, bicycles, skateboards, sore feet and of course, Amtrak, all converge on that web of tracks along with the less fortunate who gather there.

I quickly realized that the only way to travel by train is in Business Class with reserved seats. Call it an age thing but Coach Class seemed like steerage on the Titanic; a backwash of humanity and crowded quarters. It may be cheaper but it isn’t worth it.

While peering out the window I was like a kid in a candy story. Every scene that flashed by filled me with excitement. The highly concentrated coastline rolled by from La Jolla, through Ocean-side while skirting the back of towns in Carlsbad and Dana Point. Then the train swung east toward Santa Ana, Anaheim and finally Los Angeles.

By the time we got to Union Station our time schedule was way out of whack but none of us cared. L.A. was the half way mark and from there we headed northeast. It was one city melding into another; all of them forming the industrial underbelly of the region.

Finally, business and industry began to thin out and we were pushing east through rolling foothills and finally came upon vast agricultural fields of plenty. Fullerton, Van Nuys, Oxnard, and Chatsworth were all farming communities.

Then as pending fog began to creep ever closer to the shoreline we were back to the beach communities at Ventura and finally Santa Barbara.  A sleeping transient greeted us at the depot.

We only had one overnight in Santa Barbara and the now fog-bound city never revealed its beautiful beaches or blue ocean while we were there.

Rain, drizzle, fog, and dirty train windows hid the foam-splashed beaches on the way back south. It was a marvelous trip never-the-less.

We’re imagining another train trip in the near future. Traveling the length of the state sounds pretty interesting. It would mean hugging the coastline with its spectacular views and a wealth of story ideas thrown in at no extra cost. It would be retracing old jaunts through the Golden State from my younger years. Rail research that appeals to the kid wrapped inside this old fashioned traveler.