amtrakking across the country

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sacramento to portland


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A day of forced rest, people watching and life story gathering. Sometimes its nice just to sit back and let life flow by. We watched winter turn into spring for our seats, snow melt and be transformed into lush fields with spring lambs bleating and bare branches suddenly weighed down with a flush of flowers. Inside the train we listened with glee to the hilariously melodramatic grumblings of an elderly woman kitted out in her best casino outfit (I’m guessing red was her lucky colour), she described every slight and niggling pain with such undercurrents of delight that it sounded like she was unwrapping christmas gifts. Later we listened to the wild adventured of a helicopter firefighter, the perils of “jumpers” and their “hot shot crews”, the girl on the otherside of the table ate up every word with glowing eyes, a blooming romance? This is why we prefer the train to flying. Have you any fun train experiences?


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Sacramento

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sacramento, california


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Our day of transition continued, stepping off the train in Sacremento, filling in time until the next one at midnight! It was the first day since we left Hawaii that we needed our raincoats, a trend that would continue for our stay in Oregon. If you visit we’d recommend you skip the old town, which is a sticky little tourist trap more like a Disneyland set than a trip through time. All get your photo taken in costume and highway over, honking and the screech of tires.

We had more fun downtown exploring, we had lunch at a delightful meal at 524 Mexican Restaurant where the owner was a nice kind soul. At a running store the cashier had a friend who sold salsa at our Sunday Market back home and from the depths of our memories surfaced an American man who ran up to me and enthusiastically started talking about my Newton running shoes, wow it’s a small world (at least in the running world). We went to a cute vintage store with great prices and a girl working who seemed in a dream the whole time, slow smiles and glazed eyes.

Then Dylan began to wilt with his cold an we went to a trashy movie before a rushed Indian feast and then waiting, waiting for the train. It is a curious experience entering a train at midnight, passing crumpled shapes of sleeping travellers before joining them, curled in awkward fashion on a seat that can’t decide whether it is comfortable or not.


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Trukee

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trukee, california


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We made the bus ride looping through the mountains to Trukee, 20 minutes longer than we expected, luckily with time to spare until our train to Sacramento. It was one of those days with a sticky momentum, where all you have to do is arrive on time, but then so much of it is filled in with waiting. Behind the main street of historic facades and wagon wheels was a surprisingly trendy cafe with walls of Trompe l’oeil. Then if you wander further the boarded up side of town, abandoned buildings that peak curiosity and let the imagination run wild. A different kind of history lesson to the buildings of impeccable stone and folksy ornamentation with tourists in mind.


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Paddling to Nevada

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Lake Tahoe, Nevada


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Our last day at the lake Dylan and I took to the water. Yellow paddle skimming over the water, the water was so clear that we could see right to the bottom. Swiss cheese rocks and buoys chained to the lake floor. As we paddled houses became further apart and money could be felt, no trespassing signs multiplied. As we turned the corner the shelf fell away, going from 10m below to 500m in an instant, we lurched with vertigo until we drifted further out and all we could see was darkness.

Ducks and other waterfowl lazily floated by us, paddle borders and a chain of fellow kayakers powered by a four lazy paddlers moving on the strength of the girl at the front. A yellow caterpillar, that was not going very far with the dead weight. As we turned the corner towards Incline Village shore we didn’t realise that we had ticked off another state, silently gliding over the State line into Nevada, our stay was short, arms beginning to ache we made our way back home.

The luxury of a stove awaited us there and Dylan spoilt us with homemade pizza. I tried to elevate our train journey of the next day with spelt thumbprint biscuits, but they tasted more like scones badly in need of cream. All was good as we packed and prepped for the 7am bus ride back to Trukee and beyond.


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