May 10, 2001 (Day 64): Trailways bus en route to Seattle, Washington, US-Canada border crossing – 2pm
Health: good. Slept well but could always use a couple more hours
Morale: good. Departed Vancouver amidst another sunny, clear day. We were able to enjoy the emerald-hued lawns and trees and the beds of glowing flora without experiencing the aspects of a temperate rainforest that help make it so.
I am still surprised by the big market for Cuban cigars in Vancouver. Every other shop had a sign indicating their sale. “Ice cream and Cuban cigars.” “Baby food and Cuban cigars.” I am eyeing my father’s luggage with suspicion. I would not be amused to have traveled this far only to be derailed by contraband smokes.
We acquired two passengers at the US-Canada border, each with enough peroxide and facial perforations to set off an apocalyptic panic at a Christian revival meeting. Their story was that they were on their way to Canada, but the Canadians would not let them in. Bill and Ted were only in possession of tickets to Vancouver, not to Seattle. But, they claimed, “this big, curly-haired, Canadian-looking guy who was just here” said they could take this bus back to Seattle. Phone calls were made and either tickets were purchased or this “Canadian guy” materialized and sorted things out. Either way, they were on the bus back to Seattle.
While I find their story more interesting than credible, what I want to know is: what physical characteristics make someone distinctively “Canadian looking”? Was he wearing a plaid shirt and carrying an axe? Was he in a red uniform and riding a horse? Was he listening to Bryan Adams? Was he William Shatner? Heaven forbid, was it all of the above?
If I was ever to be afraid of a Fifth Column in the United States, it would not be the Communists, the UFOs, or even the Bavarian Illuminati-fronted Girl Scouts. It would be the Canadians. They look like Americans, act like Americans, some even talk like Americans. This Canadian Charm School has been fully operational for well over 50 years, routinely sending agents across the border with impunity, attempting to infiltrate the highest levels of American life. Which actor epitomized 1980’s button-down American values in a weekly sitcom? Michael J. Fox. Films and television shows purportedly taking place in American cities are filmed in Canadian cities to further confuse the American populace and pave the way for would-be overlords from the Great White North. Alex Trebek’s routine condescension of the brighter game show contestants our country has to offer. Hockey, for heaven’s sake. Why does any state south of Iowa have a hockey team? What could be more unnatural than a hockey team in Los Angeles? What will it take for the US to wake up and notice these subversive elements in our midst? Curling?
Amtrak Empire Builder near Wenatchee, Washington – 8.30pm
Despite arriving during rush hour, the bus ride into Seattle was fine. Space Needle. Mount Rainier hovered, wraithlike, above all observing all activities within the city. The driver pointed out the various landmarks and gave a bit of history. Of particular interest was a brick building near the station which was featured in nearly every newscast about the earthquake that hit Seattle in February . Months later, it was still behind yellow and black police tape.
As we journeyed, the short, wide deep houses built with great views of the Puget Sound gave way to farm houses. Emerging from the mountains, the verdant surroundings slowly give way to scrub brush and drier environs on the leeward side.
We are past the Cascade Mountains, having gone through the Cascade Tunnel at dinner. At 7.8 miles, it is the longest tunnel in the US. We were eating dinner so it mattered little to us. Of course there really is not much to see in a tunnel anyway.
The train is following the Wenatchee River approaching the city of Wenatchee, one of the many Apple Capitals of the World. Our route through the Cascades has been alongside various streams and rivers that populate the valleys. Spring is here. While the mountains are still streaked with snow, the trees outside our windows are flushed with leaves. All is lush. Ferns battle to remain rooted amidst the ad hoc waterfalls fueled by the melting snow which feed the streams and rivers that share our course.
A combination of rapid melting of the heavy winter snow pack and tremendous rains in April [2001] in parts of Iowa, Minnesota, and Wisconsin resulted in severe flooding along the Mississippi River that in places exceeded the levels of the great flood of summer 1993”. Over 400 miles of the Mississippi between Davenport, Iowa and Minneapolis, Minnesota was closed to boat and barge traffic. Flooding on the train tracks prompted Amtrak to shut down rail service between Chicago and Minneapolis. Already by the end of April, 35 counties in these three states had been declared disaster areas. The initial flooding began on April 15. Some areas did not drop below flood stage until May 18.
Flooding in the Midwest
Our train carriage is classic 70’s vintage. Vinyl coverings on the seats, emblazoned with orange and rust colored patterns. Downstairs compartments come complete with lime green molded plastic furnishings. The accommodation is rather, um, cozy. Two seats below which convert to a lower berth and a bunk overhead. The cabin is wide enough for the bunk. The closet, such as it is, is about four inches wide – sufficient room for a couple envelopes but not nearly enough room for our bags, which we stow in the common area downstairs. I had forgotten the aspect of the two-level Amtrak trains where passage between the cars in only possible on the upper level, the lower level being reserved for toilets, showers, storage and a cabin or two. Not a lot of creature comforts, but we are not going across Siberia. It is nice that my parents have the cabin just across the hall from us. The hallway is so narrow that two children could not pass each other, but that makes it good for carrying on conversations and passing bottles and cans of Funky Soy Sauce potato chips across the way.
Our cabin attendant, Rodgie, looks as though he has swallowed an entire vending machine and appears to suffer the mood swings I would associate with someone who has participated in said activity. He tries his best to appear pleasant and jovial, but this facade is not even skin deep. He sits in his cabin and dispenses answers tersely. In his fleeting moments of civility, he mentions that he trained as a chef and worked as a chef with Amtrak before becoming a steward.
Meals are included with the cabin which is a nice convenience. In addition, we are allowed all the soft drinks, coffee, and Ghirardelli chocolate we can consume provided we are willing to defeat Rodgie in combat. The part that confuses me is whether or not we need to tip the serving staff. Are they not, after all, government employees? It is kind of like seeing a tip jar at the Department of Motor Vehicles.
May 11, 2001 (Day 65): Amtrak Empire Builder, Williston, North Dakota – 7.15pm
Health: OK.
Morale: Good.
In Spokane, they attached the sightseeing car. We are making best use of it.
Woke up this morning to watch our progress across the Rockies, going through passes at about 5000 feet in altitude. While there was some snow on the ground, Spring is here in force. I sat entranced as the train skirted the southern border of Glacier National Park, eyes drawn to the sharp grey rocks and the contrasting swift, shallow rivers cutting through evergreen forests. It has been exciting to watch my father on this part of the trip. Taking the train across the Rockies and through Glacier is something he had talked long about doing. Like so much in life, we always find a reason not to do certain things. I am glad that we provided some impetus for him to pursue this.
Anna is making friends. There was a little boy, probably about three years old, in the observation car with his father. His father was doing a good job trying to point out various things to keep the little boy interested. At one point the little boy wandered over by us and started telling her about some of the things he had seen in particular, the red caboose just outside the window. Not long after his explanation, he and his father headed back to their seat.
Leaving the Park, the mountains turned into foothills which merged into the high plains which became the less-high plains and then segued into North Dakota. It is said that if you stand atop the highest point in North Dakota and look in every direction, your cry of despair can be heard at all points in the state. Going across the state, we saw a teen on a bike that cycled by and gave the train the finger. What was that about? I could not think of a more appropriate response to this fellow than the fact that he lives in North Dakota.
American research has identified 85,000 Elvis impersonators, compared with just 150 in 1977, the year he ‘died’. If growth continues at the same rate, one third of the world will be impersonating Elvis by the year 2019.
Fortean Times #144, pg. 12
At the rail stop in Havre, Montana there were green uniformed Border Patrol officers on the platform. This is not what I would have expected. Even though the border is only 25 miles to the north, we are on an east bound train. The train official that I spoke with said that they were, indeed, checking for illegals on this train, hundreds of miles from where the point of origin. Someone else offered the suggestion of an international Peace Park in the area. Nothing says fraternal love between countries like the border patrol, except perhaps floodlights and razor wire. This park is probably the location of the famous “Bridge of Spies” where the US and Canada exchanged spies during the height of the Cold War. One can only hope that someday they will march Jim Carrey back across that thing in the near future.
We have been passing the time spotting wildlife out the window. My father is able to expertly identify numerous types of waterfowl at a glance. I can name three different types of duck and identify them in a proper zoo-like environment. Essentially, my father could be inventing new creatures and neither Anna nor I would be any the wiser. “That’s a golden-toed flint teal,” he could say. “They are good to eat and tend to self-immolate if properly frightened, which makes cleaning them a breeze.” Anna and I would nod appreciatively, unaware that we were swallowing a very large hook.
We saw quite a number of deer and a few antelope. My dad and a couple others saw a coyote. I saw some type of fox. Anna caught sight of something black and white in the glimpses of field visible between the cars of a passing train. We are not sure what it was that she saw, but my closing comment on this discussion was, “while there are 16 different species of penguin, none are known to be six-feet tall and indigenous to North Dakota.”
Spoke to the next generation this morning. My parents called my nephew on the mobile and we had a chance to talk. I think that this whole trip thing is a bit beyond his understanding. After we had a short chat, he dismissed me with a “Can I talk to Grandma?” request, spoken in a tone that suggested that he needed to speak to someone rational. Looking forward to seeing him, his sister and their parents.
Departing Minot, North Dakota – 10pm
An announcement has just been made that we will be about two hours late arriving into the Twin Cities. It is worth noting that we arrived into Minot 10 minutes early and departed on time at 9.42pm. All of these delays are due to conditions we are yet to encounter, as opposed to being already late. We suspect that this is largely due to the flooding in the Mississippi, other major rivers, and their tributaries. Up until a week ago, the flooding prevented this train from running between the Twin Cities and Chicago; a shuttle bus was run instead. This is not a major concern for us since we do not have to make a tight connection in Chicago, but this this worth keeping in mind when we leave on Monday.
I hope that my parents are enjoying this. Anna and I have our own train routine, honed over several days while crossing Asia – which is marginally more picturesque than Eastern Montana and North Dakota. There are not too many places to go on a train so we mentally cocoon. We entertain ourselves by sleeping, reading, or playing Free Cell on our Pilots. I hope our less-than-social behavior was not off-putting. As it was, everyone took a bit of a nap today.
Excerpts from Anna’s journal included.
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