Last Morning on the Train

I am writing this on the train as it pulls into Staples, Minnesota, at about 8:20 a.m., over four hours late. We should have been home at 7:05, and were dismayed to wake up at 5:00 a.m. near Fargo. The train had been running a couple of hours late when we went to bed last night, but we’d optimistically hoped to make up time overnight.

Sunday was a long day. We left Grouse Mountain Lodge at 6:30 and checked our bags through to MSP shortly before seven. Per Alamo’s instructions, Bob left the car in the parking lot with the keys under the mat. I was already dreading the long ride but a beautiful sunrise in Whitefish perked me up a little, as did  a pretty good continental breakfast on the train. Australians Allan and Rod, on a 7-week train trip across the country, were our companions.  We listened to a long travelogue about their train travel across Russia, where I will not be tempted by the romance of the Trans Siberian railroad.

Lunch with Simon and Joan, on their way home to Zurich, was quiet. I guessed them to be ex-patriates, him British, her American. The long afternoon was broken up by an hour in the dining car for wine tasting with Duane and Connie from Paynesville. I inquired about the Bertram brothers who were both at the Minnesota Legislature when I worked there. Apparently one of them (forget which one) is now involved in local politics and is at the center of some Paynesville controversy. I won a bottle of Chardonnay, correctly guessing that “Michelle” was the only Beatles a capella song. The wine is sitting upright (I hope) in our narrow locker.

Day slipped away over eastern Montana, very slowly as we found ourselves delayed by freight trains several times. We had our most pleasant meal yet with Bob and Sue from Cleveland, who had been hiking in Glacier Park. For the first time, I didn’t have my camera and I missed a sunset photo op. The sun – a perfect coral circle – blazed above the prairie and disappeared gracefully behind the horizon.

We lost an hour as the train clunked its way into the Central time zone, and Louis King (“King Louis” the sleeping car attendant) made up our beds shortly after 10. I sat on Bob’s bed for 30 minutes or so before climbing up onto the shelf for the night, where I “slept” in my clothes.

We had breakfast with Jim from Oakland, formerly of St. Louis Park. We’re close to St. Cloud right now, and the Mississippi River never looked so good. Home in a couple of hours!