"Come again?"
That was my response. I was standing inside Jack London Station in Oakland and had just been told that Amtrak did not know where my bike was.
I had recently made my way north from San Diego, Anaheim and Los Angeles. In these places I had my bicycle with me. When I reached the bay area I did not. What I had been doing was putting my bike in a box and checking it. Then, after reaching my destination, I claimed my box, assembled my bike, and rode to wherever I needed to go. It was in Oakland that I went to get my bike-in-a-box only to find that it hadn't made the trip with me.
Initially, I experienced some serious discomfort with this situation. Then I quickly allowed myself to be calmed by the reassurances provided by the folks at Amtrak. They told me that 'the package' was still in L.A. but that it would easily arrive at the station by the time I left Oakland for Denver in three days. I trusted that things would be taken care of and knew I'd be able to get around San Francisco/Oakland via BART and Muni quite easily. So I left, but fully expected to see my bike at my next departure.
Departure time: I strolled into Jack London Station at 6:00am to claim my bicycle and board the train for Sacramento by 7:00. That's when I was told by the Amtrak agent behind the counter that she had no idea what I was talking about or where my bike was.
"Come again?"
"Come again?"
Alright, so my hand was forced. I was to head towards Denver without getting my bicycle back in my possession. Although it is needless to elaborate on the topic, it is important to point out that I was very concerned. I was shocked and chagrined. Where the hell was my bike? At this moment I was thinking that I could care less about how I was going to continue my tour without the Jamis, I just wanted it back.
Eventually I was able to calm down. Time was a big factor in helping me achieve a small degree of serenity. Spending all of your waking moments fuming and fulminating is not conducive to a healthy lifestyle, let alone a dream vacation. Really, who wants to spend their time being upset? Not me.
So I settled in for the most majestic ride I've ever taken -- train, plane, or automobile. The California Zephyr made its way up and over two mountain ranges that are as beautiful as they are formidable (just ask the Donner party). I guess there are some plains of salt and just plain desolation in between the two sets of mountains, but Amtrak wisely schedules its trains to pass through this region when it is conveniently dark outside.
Denver awaited just beyond the second series of stoic summits and was where I planned to disembark. Although this trip was a dream come true for me and every destination filled me with excitement, I was especially enthusiastic about my return to Denver. I called this city my home for four years and it has a special place in my heart and memory. I remember packing up the Saturn with all of my belongings, followed by my sister Holly in her black Honda Civic, and making the move across the country full of both thrill and anxiety.
Denver awaited just beyond the second series of stoic summits and was where I planned to disembark. Although this trip was a dream come true for me and every destination filled me with excitement, I was especially enthusiastic about my return to Denver. I called this city my home for four years and it has a special place in my heart and memory. I remember packing up the Saturn with all of my belongings, followed by my sister Holly in her black Honda Civic, and making the move across the country full of both thrill and anxiety.
It was on to Denver.
Train:
July 26: California Zephyr -- Sacramento to Denver (33 hours, 1315 miles)
I had made it to Sacramento on the Capitol Corridor line from Oakland's Jack London station. It was from Sacramento (which has a roomy station and a nice downtown) that I boarded the Zephyr at 11am, setting up a lovely afternoon ride up the Sierra Nevadas on the first transcontinental rail line painstakingly built by thousands of Chinese immigrants 145 years ago. I have trouble imagining a more spectacular train ride in the continental United States than the western sections of the California Zephyr.
One of the nice things that the folks at Amtrak do is to tri-coordinate departure times with geographic sections of intrigue and daylight. By departing in the morning the Zephyr makes its way through both the Sierras and the Rockies during daylight hours. They know what they're doing, because the train offers an easy, relaxed, and unique perspective to view these majestic mountains. It's like an episode of Planet Earth right outside your window to whatever soundtrack you choose. Mine was Air's Moon Safari.
In American grade schools we all heard the story of the transcontinental railroad. One group of men started building a line in the east and raced another group of men building from the west. Then both sides finally met at Promontory Point in Utah in May of 1869 and drove through the golden spike to solidify the technological feat of the century.
In the scholastic explanation of the toils of the railroad workers there was mention of the unbelievably difficult conditions that the men had to endure. But as a child I had no frame of reference for, nor the desire to understand what that all meant. Now as a man that has spent time doing many different jobs (some easy, some hard) and living in a myriad of conditions, my appreciation for the work all those Chinese immigrants did exceeds accurate description. It may sound a bit cheesy, but I found it difficult to travel through any of the numerous tunnels without an inner "thank you" to the engineers (Judah, Strong, Montegue) and the big four financiers (Stanford, Huntington, Hopkins, Crocker). But I am most grateful for the many many men that worked everyday (sometimes with progress as little as 18 inches a day) so that today I can travel in the utmost comfort and leisure over places as historically formidable as Donner Pass.
People:
Valerie and Bryce- From Sacramento to Reno I hung out with this super mom/son combo. Bryce is a 14 year-old frog-loving, curly haired redhead named for Bryce Canyon. Valerie is a kind, intelligent, thoughtful writer at heart that has headed back to school to pursue a teaching career at the junior college level. They were incredibly nice, but hadn't spent much time on the train before. Fortunately, I was able to show them how to kick up their footrests and in doing so, we got to talking about some very interesting topics.
Valerie and Bryce had reservations in the lunch car and they invited me to join them for a meal. After a cheers to our first dining car experience, we talked about Bryce's wonderful website (www.frogsabound.org). I was impressed with his work and the site, which talks about everything you'd ever want to know about frogs. Did you know there are over 5000 known species of frogs worldwide? Next we conversed about writing and how practicing it frequently can actually change your brain by improving conversation skills, increasing confidence, and altering perspective. Finally we finished the meal on the topic of teachers; what makes a good one; the difficulty of their jobs in a test happy environment; and in the wake of the happenings in Wisconsin, their overall lack of respect. Does anybody truly believe that being a teacher is a gravy train job? After we finished eating, Valerie graciously insisted on paying. Thank you Valerie. It was great to meet you and Bryce.
Train Brain
After awhile on the train I fall into a pleasant condition that I'm referring to as train brain. In my experiences so far, train brain only occurs after at least 24 consecutive hours of rail riding. Here are some of the symptoms of train brain:-Distorted vision: After looking out the window for so long, sedentary objects (a wall, the floor, etc.) inside the train appear to move sideways.
-Zen state: Everything seems to fall into place nicely and neatly, while time disappears. Well, that is an overstatement, but time definitely takes a back seat.
-Frequent dozing: The rocking back and forth is very soothing and puts me to sleep. However, I will only doze for about 15 or 30 minutes and I wake with unusually high energy and focus after a nap. Then, as a new project (music listening, conversation, reading, writing) continues the energy slowly fades until I am ready for another brief snooze. The whole cycle seems to take 2 hours.
-Lowered social inhibitions: When I am not on a train there are times when I like to engage strangers in conversation, getting to know them while practicing social skills. Of course there are times when I enjoy simply keeping to myself, maybe because I don't have the energy required to be a good conversationalist. During train brain this becomes confused and I speak to strangers as if I've known them for years with no care for whether or not I'm engaged or engaging. There is no pressure to cast yourself as an interesting person to speak to, nor is there any internal judging going on inside my head. I walk around and speak to whoever about whatever captures my attention. It is very much like being in a home filled with family members who already know who you are.
-Understanding: Traveling by airplane is a lot like being told the end of a story. Or better yet, just an abbreviated version of a story. On the other hand, a train is more like taking the time to read a whole novel or watch an entire movie. Yes cliff notes (oops, I'm showing my age), I mean sparknotes, are quicker, more efficient and you can hear more stories in less time. But looking out the window at the ever-changing topography, geography, climate and culture is like the beginning of the story. The train traveler approaches his or her destination full of context. And what is it that makes a story so good? Well, it's understanding isn't it? Understanding the characters; their motivations; the dos and don'ts, the cans and cannots of the setting; understanding everything that occurred to make the ending possible is why I like to read.
-Sustained hunger: I am constantly hungry when dealing with train brain. Last stretch I devoured a package of peanuts, four cans of sardines, an entire box of triscuits, three bananas, half a pack of sunflower seeds, an oj, an aj, a tj, and two granola bars.
-Power: After watching people board and deboard while remaining on the same train I develop a sense of ownership over the car that I'm assigned to. I walk up and down the aisle telling the new riders how it's going to be. Not really, but it's fun to pretend.
-Lack of photography discretion: I'll take pictures of anything. It's like I've exhausted any filter for what is and what isn't a good picture. I wouldn't be surprised if I posted a picture of my feet on facebook soon.
Here's one of the 50 photos/videos that I took out the window in full blown train brain:
People:
Will, Lane, Mariel, and Jeremy- I met this bunch around 2007 in Crested Butte, CO. We used to have quite a bit of fun together. It's hard not to have fun in Crested Butte, but I'm pretty sure that I could have a good time with these guys anywhere. Some fun things that come to mind: dominating the jukebox at the Talk of the Town (we liked to play the long version of CCR's "Heard It Through The Grapevine" to get our money's worth), sitting in my underwear on the "no pants" couch, 40's and euchre, and of course the chest-deep pow. The crew has dispersed and stretched out to the nether regions of the world, so not everybody from the mountain days is here in Denver. Major players that were missed include Anne, Sarah, Kendall, Megan, Kelly, Nate, Eve, and Kathryn. I'm sure to see Kathryn in Boston and am hoping that Nate and maybe even Eve will make a cameo as well.
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| Will, Lane, me, Mariel, Jeremy |
Post:
Trivia Time
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| The trivia squad |
Last night I went to play some trivia in Denver. Our team name was "Baseball Games, Trains & No Automobiles" and we were a foursome composed of myself and three other fantastic friends: Lane, Mariel, and Will. It was a heated back and forth contest for all 8 rounds. We finished in 3rd with 72 points, 3 behind the 1st place team. It was a blast and I thought I'd throw some baseball trivia onto the blog today:
How many times has Halley's Comet passed the Earth since the Cubs last won a World Series?
What 2B/SS combo has turned more double plays than any other?
What player was forced to abruptly end his baseball days with a career average of .356?
What pitcher had the most wins in the 1980's?
How many times did Joe DiMaggio strike out during his 56 game hitting streak?
When asked what his secret to winning was, Casey Stengel replied, "I never play a game without my man." To whom was Stengel referring?
Name 5 Bill Veeck stunts.
Name three teams that have installed solar panels somewhere in their home ballpark.
Who was the last switch-hitting MVP in the American League?
What did Jeffrey Leonard do to infuriate Cardinal pitchers in the 1987 NLCS?
*Answers*
Twice
Lou Whitaker and Alan Trammell
Shoeless Joe Jackson
Jack Morris (162 wins)
DiMaggio struck out 5 times
Yogi Berra
Brought Eddie Gaedel to the plate (he was a midget), put the White Sox in short pants, grandstand managers day (the fans decided when the team stole, bunted, pulled pitchers, etc.), disco-demolition night, made Harry Caray sing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame", and the first exploding scoreboard just to name a few
Arizona, Boston, and Colorado come to mind. The new look Miami Marlins will have a state of the art "green" stadium as well.
The AL MVP in 1971 was a pitcher, Vida Blue.
After hitting a home run he rounded the bases with "one flap down."
Games:
*August 1: Coors Field -- Denver, CO
Philadelphia 4
Colorado 3
My bike was still in California somewhere, so I rode Mariel's bike downtown to the stadium to get rockpile tickets for everybody. The rockpile is a Colorado thing. There is a bleacher section in deeeeep center field where spectators can sit for only $4. Generally, these seats attract a lot of younger fans and the area is quite a bit of fun. I was excited to be back in line at Coors Field, buying up a mess of tickets for me and my old buddies.
Coors Field is one of my favorite places to watch a game. Not only is it a fantastic ballpark, but it occupies a special place in my heart because I've probably seen more ballgames there than any other stadium. The swirl of nostalgia, seeing friends, checking off my seventh stadium, and knowing the terrain helped generate an atmosphere of expectation unlike any of the other games I had so far attended.
Part of knowing the terrain is knowing where to go before the game. In Denver I like to head to McCormick's. My friend Eric and I discovered their pregame happy hour back in 2004-5. It's a classy place with good beer, excellent food and prices that'll make you shimmie-hah in your seat. My friend Jeremy, who lives up in Fort Collins, made the drive down a little before game time and we met at McCormick's for warm ups.
After getting limber, Jeremy and I headed down to the field to meet up with Mariel, Lane and Will. I've seen Rockies' games with this crew before and always have a good time. I expected nothing less than pure elation this time around.
For our part, we knew that the Rockies weren't going anywhere this season. It had been disappointing to say the least, and on top of the season-long frustrations, Colorado had just traded away its staff ace, Ubaldo Jimenez. With all of this in mind, we prepared to root for the home team like the National League pennant was on the line.
The Rockies' opponent was the team with the best record in baseball, the Philadelphia Phillies. Only recently have the Phillies become any good. Sure they had a nice season in the 80s and one again in the 90s. Overall though, Philadelphia's record rivals that of perennial heart-breakers like the Chicago Cubs and Cleveland Indians. Now Phillies' fans are attaching themselves to this new phenomenon of winning like Dr. Claw attached himself to the prospect of getting Gadget next time. And much like the villain from that old cartoon they are loud, obnoxious and always in the way.
So it was with a light heart and a cheshire grin that we watched the Rockies take an early 2-0 lead when Seth Smith smacked a two-run homer off of Philadelphia starter Cole Hamels. The lead held as Rockies' pitcher, Jhoulys Chacin allowed only three hits through six innings. One of those hits was a Chase Utley double down the line in right field that looked like it would score Shane Victorino. However, as the Philly center fielder raced around third, Smith rose to the occasion again for the home team and started a perfect relay by firing a laser beam strike to 2B Mark Ellis who whirled and fired home to get Victorino at the plate.
Philadelphia eventually plated one in the top of the seventh, but Chris Iannetta and the Rockies answered right back with a solo home run in the bottom of the inning. I was having a blast. I'm sure that Lane, Mariel, Will, Jeremy, and myself didn't stop talking and laughing the whole time. On top of it all the Rockies were actually winning. The eighth inning came and went without any scoring. It was 3-1 heading into the ninth.
The Rockies' closer, Huston Street, trotted in from the bullpen and everything looked in its right place for a Colorado victory. I'll admit that I anticipated a Rockies' win with as much fervor as I anticipated Philadelphian dejection (city of brotherly love, my ass). Raul Ibanez struck out, one down. Placido Polanco flied out to center field, two away. Then Phillies' catcher, Carlos Ruiz doubled and the tying run came to the plate. Charlie Manuel, the Philadelphia manager, elected to send rookie John Mayberry up to pinch hit. Street got two strikes and everybody was on their feet. Colorado fans cheered for victory while Philadelphia hooligans drunkenly belched that God's wishes were but one long ball away. It was at this point that I leaned into Lane and told her that I'd be okay if Philadelphia tied things up. This was because I was having so much fun that the possibility of extra innings was extremely attractive. I just didn't want things to end and they didn't... yet.
Mayberry hit a 3-2 pitch into the left field stands and Coors Field immediately split in two. Hometown supporters incredulously fell back into their seats while too many other spectators took their shirts off and whooped like soup-drenched orangutans. I had made a mistake. Clearly it was my fault for wishing that the game be extended, and in doing so I provided fuel for the testosterone-laden fire now scorching one of my favorite ballparks. "Shit!" I exclaimed with a sheepish simper. I asked for it and I got it.
It's funny how sometimes a thing will happen and you know right then what will follow. When Steve Bartman precluded Cubs left fielder, Moises Alou, from making an out in the eight inning of the 2003 NLCS, everybody knew that the Cubs had lost their chance to go to their first World Series since 1945. Even when the Cubs were ahead three games to two, at home, and ahead in the game at the time -- the future seemed written. This also happened when Bill Buckner missed the ground ball in the '86 series: there was one more game to be played, but everyone knew the Mets would win it.
I felt the same thing after Mayberry's home run. Sure enough, the Rockies were unable to take advantage of Seth Smith's lead off single in the bottom of the ninth and left him standing at third when the inning was over. Then Philadelphia's Shane Victorino smoked a solo shot to start the 10th. The Rockies went down 1-2-3 in the bottom of the 10th and the game was suddenly over.
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Bike:
Aug 1: Denver's Cherry Creek Trail (10 miles)
I rode this trail to work and back everyday during the election season of 2008. That was a stressful job that eventually pushed my away from politics and out of the campaign world. I vividly remember the early morning rides, arriving to open up the office covered in sweat and happy about it. Even more than that I recall being dowsed by the sprinklers on my late night sojourns back to Vine Street, often after putting in a 14-hour day filled with ridiculous problems and hasty solutions. Those commutes kept me sane, or at least allowed me to feign sanity until Election Day.
I love this trail, obviously. Starting by the REI and kayak park, it winds through downtown Denver, under street level, along the banks of Cherry Creek passing just south of Capitol Hill, just north of Wash Park and out to Aurora (a southeastern neighbor of Denver). I'm not sure how far it actually goes. The trail could very well extend beyond Aurora onto the plains of Eastern Colorado continuing further, all the way up to the base of Mons Olympus for all I know. The Cherry Creek trail is one of the things that I really miss about Denver and one of the reasons that I enjoy bicycling in the mile high city so much.
This day I took my friend Mariel's bike from my sister's house in Wash Park up to Coors Field and back. As I rode I thought about how every city should try to develop trails like this. Indeed many are. Tangentially from there I considered future cities full of scenic bike paths and reliable, accessible public transportation like light rails, streetcars, water taxis, ferries, and buses. Wandering even further I buzzed with excitement thinking about all of the possibilities and potential for us and our cities in the future. We could make some super-cool cities to live in! Rather than the rundown, "don't go there", donut-effect ghost-towns we see so frequently in the midwest; let's first imagine the improbable, then use our exercised imaginations to make our visions possible by returning our cities back to a human-centered approach in the stead of an automobile-centered layout.
Soon I was dismounting from Mariel's bike and buying tickets to the Rockies game for me and my friends due to arrive in a couple of hours, also on bicycles. We ended up having a great time at the game and said goodbye for another year or so. I rode back that evening listening to the babbles of Cherry Creek and thinking about what a nice night it was to be outside.
Denver:
Denver was a real nice stop for me. I had completed my first three weeks and seen all of the California ballparks, so I was really starting to get the feel of how this trip was going to be. Because the Rockies wouldn't play a home game for almost a whole week, Denver acted as a perfect reprieve that I used for collecting my energy and reflecting on what had occurred thus far.
Another part of my time in Denver was spent impressing that girl Kate that was renting my room back in Portland. I had written about her in my blog post "My Mission in the Mission" and told her in an email that I enjoyed her San Franciscan suggestions. While at the Sacramento train station I texted her if there were any other missions I could attempt for her. Specifically I asked her to give me a topic or a subject that I could find and take a picture of and send to her. After complaining to me that she had better uses of her time, Katie instructed me: "Fine. Pie eating contest. Go."
*I'd like to say thank you to the Denver County Fair and the Village Inn for helping me out on this one*
Train:
August 2: California Zephyr -- Denver to Chicago (28 hours, 1038 miles)
This one started rough. Due to rail work in the mountains the Zephyr pulled into Denver's makeshift train depot (Union Station is undergoing surgery until 2014) two hours behind schedule. At 9:30pm I climbed aboard and watched the train lurch ahead for about 50 yards, where it stopped and stayed for what felt like an hour. There were reports of electric failures causing the conductors to jump off and throw switches by hand as well as flooding far ahead in Nebraska.
I went downstairs, bought a Sierra Mist and filled the bottom of my my cup of ice with gin. I had to buy Diet Sierra Mist. I didn't care and topped it off anyway. My across-the-aisle buddy from Kansas and I were drunk before Ft. Morgan. It was one of those stupors that begins by promising brilliance but quickly descends into blankness. There are moments when being in a state of nothing can be quite pleasant, because even nothing can have color. Not tonight.
Only in retrospect have I decided that there are degrees of nothing. At the time I was too immersed in all of it that wasn't there to qualify everything that was not. Here I was on a grand cross-country adventure, presumably ecstatic at fulfilling a dream of mine, experiencing blank nothingness. Even if it was clean, at least that'd of been something. I couldn't even hoist myself to a dull turbidity, there wasn't anything to hold on to. I became agitated out of desperation.
During this swing from momentary brilliance, to nothingness, to anger I tried to compose a flirtatious email and was sure that I had failed miserably. So I deleted it. At least I thought I deleted it. Evidently the gin had me like a puppet and my fingers pressed send. The damn thing wasn't even finished. So there it went, my piece of shit attempt at cyberwooing flying through the ether surely to be met with disdain on the other end. And we were still in Colorado.
Nebraska came over like an uninvited and unwanted neighbor. Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock... I tried to sleep through it, but was unable. The automatically closing door between cars was broken and continued opening and closing. Knock, knock, knock. The train stopped again. Finally I invited Nebraska in and told it to make itself at home. I wasn't interested in chatting and tried again, this time successfully, to fall asleep.
I awoke to Nebraska rolling past the window, immediately making me dizzy and sleepy. "Still here?" I stayed at attention for a good two or three minutes before I shifted the pillow and drifted off to sleep again.
"Finally Iowa." That's right. And along with Iowa I began to feel the drowsiness lift and a return to normalcy. There were new people on the train too. Kansas guy had left a long, long time ago. The trouble is that we had been re-routed around Omaha because of floods and so had every other train. The freights own the lines, so we just had to wait. We must have been in Iowa for 12 hours. I amused myself by making music videos out the train window. Some came out nicely.
Becky and Lauren saved me. We had talked a bit in our car, but didn't really get to know each other until we ate our free dinner (Amtrak was doing all they could to prevent a revolt) together. But by this time I was fine, so were my new friends.
Becky and Lauren are a mother/daughter combo that had planned on boarding in Omaha at dawn. But the train wasn't coming there because of the floods. Luckily for them the Zephyr was running behind schedule so they could be transported an hour west and with plenty of time to spare, still catch it at Lincoln. They were on their way to Illinois to see Becky's mother. Lauren was excited because her grandmother always makes such a fuss over her and shows her off to all of her friends. I can see why. Lauren is one of the coolest 14 year-olds I've ever met. We chatted, told each other jokes, became facebook friends and I showed Lauren how to make music videos out the train window.
They departed and I was left with the final three hours to ruminate on the previous 25. By this time there was no chance of catching my connection to Toledo (even with a backup of five hours built in) so there was no point in worrying about that business. Amtrak had assured all 175 connection-missers that we would be put up in a hotel for the night. They stood by their word while also offering to cover cab fare and the next day's meals.
Standing in front of the toilet in my hotel room, I swayed back and forth without moving. I rocked, not like a hurricane, more like Neil Young with soul in my eye and a toothbrush in my mouth. I slipped under the sheets at Chicago's South Loop Hotel around 3:30am, 33 hours after arriving at the Denver train station. My head hit the pillow like a Mallard landing on a frozen lake and I have a suspicion that it was all very much worth it.
People:
Becky and Lauren- These two endured the hours and hours of Iowa with me. I've nothing against Iowa. I think it's a lovely state. I do. However, when the train you're on can't seem to make it through the state you're in, sometimes a little help is needed to keep your spirits up. Becky and Lauren did the trick. They were fun to hang out with. We ate dinner together in the dining car, talked about why we need to support our teachers and made music videos while hanging out in the observation car. Lauren is about the coolest 14-year old I've ever met. Which means that Becky must be a great mom. Based on our ten hours together I'm sure she is.
