Following in Giant's footsteps

As I awoke to a gray upstate New York morning, with nowt to see for miles but mist shrouded trees, interspersed with the occasional passing small town or river crossing, a few things came to mind as I sipped my morning coffee...

As a child, reading the 'Classic Comics' version of the 'Tale of the Headless Horseman', which was set in this part of the world. The mood outside just made it leap to mind - I know not why.

You may recall my earlier mention of reading Paul Theroux, before embarking upon this trip. His journey started on this very same train which I'm now riding - albeit in the opposite direction, so I thought that making that linkage was kind of cool too.

Another positive influence on me in recent times, particularly in terms of doing a blog on this trip, is Gareth Morgan. I was first introduced to Gareth when presented with his 'Silk Riders' book as a birthday present by Ted & Jenny (a.k.a. my parents). This documented a motorcycle trip following the in the footsteps of Marco Polo from Italy to China. This book was then followed up earlier this year by the release of 'Backblocks America' doumenting a similarly adventurous trip around North America. Both excellent reads, by a very intelligent and insightful, but down-to-earth Kiwi, and supported by an excellent website - World by Bike.
Gareth, Jo and crew are currently in Africa - well worth checking out, makes my wee adventure pale in comparision.

Anyways, back to the 'Lake Shore Limited'. Possibly a more apt moniker if you are westbound, but I slept through Lake Erie (or should that be past, as we didn't get wet), but one thing was evident - due to host railroad CSX doing major summer maintenance, we were going to be a good hour and a half late into Albany, NY., where our train split in two, with the main section continuing to New York City, while those of us bound for Massachusetts were downgraded to a coach only service for the last five hour leg into Boston.

Once settled, and underway again, I retired to the snack car to escape the mad-woman from San Francisco seated in front of me, who just would not shut the $%^& up, and settled down with a chicken burger, a half bottle of California Merlot, and Kathy Reichs (in paperback, I hasten to add). Not along afterward, I was accosted by a fellow passenger who accused me, in quite friendly terms, of being a railfan. This might possibly have had something to do with my wearing a bright red tee shirt emblasoned with Rocky the Mountain Goat, the Great Northern Railway mascot, which I had picked up at the Isaak Walton Inn.

It turned out that Dave was also going to Portland for the convention, so we had a bit of a chat over dinner. I must get more of these RR shirts - seems a good way of attracting a certain type of company. Hmmm I can think of other possibilities too......

Amazingly enough, we were only ten minutes late arriving in Boston. I did think five hours looked a long time for a relatively short leg. Methinks Amtrak keeps the occasional scheduling ace up their corporate sleeve.

A quick cab ride to my flash hotel in Back Bay, and all tucked up ready for bed by 11:00pm. A longish day, but I've made to the right coast, and state number 14!

Where are all the Moose?

Just a very quick update to say I have made it back to Portland after four fabulous days exploring parts of northern Maine.

Absolutely outstanding scenery, lots of interesting 2 foot gauge railway bits, and a couple of hundred photos to sort through.

The only fly in the ointment is inevitably I have picked up a @$#%^ chest infection, but with some aggressive self medication, I'm starting to get it under control. It's slowing me down a bit, but hey, nothing new there, and I'm damned if its going to spoil my enjoyment one iota!!!!!

Anyway, its sleepy time for me, and I promise I'll update things in more detail when I get a bit of spare time.

Oh, and where are all the Moose? Despite promises galore, the closest I got was road signs warning 'High Rate of Moose Crashes Next 7 Miles'. Why they keep giving them driving licenses I'll never know!

Into the Wilderness

I'm off to the north woods of Maine today for a bit of ferroequinological archaeology, and will likely be off the 'net for a few days.

I will catch you up on my doings since Chicago upon my return to the more civiised world of Portland, ME.

You lot behave yourselves while I'm gone, OK!

Windy City Wanderings

I had hoped to post a few updates before checking out of the Best Western, but alas, blogspot.com was deader than roadkill. Damn you Google! If you are going to take over the whole internet, you could at least make it work reliably!

So, back to Union Station – a slightly less traumatic trip this time. I checked my bag for retrieval later in the day, and jumped on a Metra commuter train out to Lisle via the BNSF ‘racetrack’ line. I’m pretty impressed with the city train service here – quite similar to Sydney, as it needs to be to adequately serve a city of four point something million.

As arranged, I was met at Lisle by Rich Weyand, another model railroading friend, whom I ‘met’ via email about 12 years ago, through our then mutual interest in modeling similar areas of the Norfolk & Western Railway in N Scale.

Rich took me to one of his favourite Italian Restaurants, where I enjoyed possibly the best Lasagna outside Italy, washed down with a very nice Italian lager. Rich & I enjoyed getting to know each other for real, and discovered a whole bunch of interests in common outside trains, which was really neat.

After lunch we cruised on back to Rich’s place in a nice quiet spot on the outskirts of greater Chicago, where I met his wife Wendy, and had a tour of his Pocahontas Division layout. It is considerably more impressive in person than in photos I had previously seen, and it definitely rates as one of the most thoughtfully designed and engineered layouts around, and the way Rich has captured the prototype is most impressive. Given the number of good layouts I’ve seen over the years, I don’t make such comments lightly, either.

We spent another very pleasant couple of hours gasbagging about all sorts of things of mutual interest, before heading back to Lisle, and my train back to the City.

Rich, thank you once again for your hospitality – it was a great pleasure to finally meet you, and I hope we can do it again some day. And I really do hope you get that book published. I want to read it!!!!

I got back to the city with a few hours to spare before my next train was due to board, so I caught a water taxi down the canal to Navy Pier, a tourist hotspot where the city meets Lake Michigan. I must have looked like a real tourist, snapping away at the Chicago skyline as we went. Once there, I repaired to a funky jazz bar for a beer and a bite, and then took another, even scarier, taxi ride back to Union Station. I swear that bastard taxi driver was trying to kill us both! Is it absolutely necessary to accelerate to 60mph in the space of every 200 foot long city block? Didn’t you know that leaning on the horn continuously does not guarantee that 6 inch gap is going to open up wide enough to insert us into every time without fail? I was definitely ready for a cup of tea and a wee lie down after that experience!

By the time I retrieved my bag, and got myself checked into the flash Amtrak Metropolitan Lounge, I literally did only have time for a cuppa before the boarding call came through. The Lakeshore Limited doesn’t leave Chicago until 10:00pm, but we sleeper passengers get to board at eight, and enjoy a pre-launch wine & cheese party before the off. Very civilized! I enjoyed the company of two very nice sisters, and their young companion, who were also doing the Portland to Portland run. Amongst other things, we got chatting about cars, and Stephanie, one of the two sister, just happens to have a daughter in law, whose father restores old Corvettes! She very kindly hunted me down before we left the train, and gave me his email address, along with a note to say he would be happy to hear from me. Cool eh?

I got myself settled for the night, and from my bed, watched the lights of Chicago recede behind us. Then, another state line, another time zone, and a good night’s sleep, with no early morning deadlines to worry about.

A Nasty Case of the Robbie Burns’

As in ‘ The best-laid schemes o' mice an 'men gang aft agley’….

We were awoken at an unreasonably early hour with the news that flash flooding in eastern Minnesota had washed away the tracks, not only of our intended route, but also the only practical backup route to Chicago. I guess that is only to be expected when you get 12 – 17 inches of rain inside 24 hours. As a result, we were to detrain at Minneapolis-St. Paul, and would be bussed the remaining eight or so hours to Chicago. Oh Joy!

Trying to get 300 odd people onto buses proved interesting for the Amtrak officials, and I did get to see a couple of good examples of ‘Ugly Americans’ amongst the passengers. I can’t quite see the point in trying to blame the whole thing on Amtrak at the top of one’s voice. It got quite farcical, as one or two others started trying to shout down the original heckler. Get a grip guys! At least we will get to Chicago eventually, unlike the seven people who perished in the flood.

The trip itself wasn’t actually too bad, and we were no later getting into Chicago than we would have been anyway! It was a relief to get there though, and for a while I just stood on the sidewalk in amazement watching the world go by. What a madhouse! I’m glad I wasn’t driving, and the cab ride to my hotel was one of the scariest 10 minutes of my life to date. These people are nuts! Far worse than L.A!

I got settled in my hotel, which had a distant view across Grant Park to Lake Michigan. It was warm and very humid, and it felt mighty fine to have a nice long shower and wash off a bit of travel grime.

Then it was downstairs to enjoy pizza and vino at a sidewalk café next to the hotel, followed by the best night’s sleep I’d had since arriving in the States. I think my body clock is finally adjusting, thank goodness.

The Empire Builder Strikes Back

Back on board my train, and eastward bound once again! I was quite frankly worried about Marias Pass. Although it is the lowest point at which one can cross the continental divide between Canada & New Mexico, it is still up at 5318 feet, a good 1500 feet higher than Essex. Well, I didn’t even notice it – maybe a day spent acclimatising at Essex helped. That hurdle out of the way, I relaxed and enjoyed the trip down the eastern side of the Rockies, and out onto the high plains of eastern Montana.

I now see why it’s called ‘Big Sky Country’. Just acres and acres of gently undulating prairie grass as far as the eye can see, and the great dome of the sky overhead. And so it remained through into North Dakota, and presumably well into the night as well, punctuated only by the occasional town, and more often by the many prairie skyscrapers (grain elevators), located trackside at regular intervals along the route.

The highlight of the afternoon for us nobs in the sleepers, was a wine and cheese tasting session in the dining car. We sampled four different wines from Washington state, and four cheeses from Minnesota. All very nice, but I was gutted at not winning a very nice bottle of Shiraz, by failing to guess the Conductor’s quiz question as to which famous Rock Group he had in mind, of which all four members were dead. The answer was of course – Mt. Rushmore!

I seem to have developed a habit of being seated with elderly retired couples for meals, and I had three very different ones on this leg. Most of the conversations tend to be fairly superficial, as one would expect, however my dinner companions proved a little more interesting. They were from Boston, and had retired to North Carolina. They were quite obviously better educated that most I had met to date, and reading between the lines, Paul had obviously enjoyed a successful and lucrative career in business &/or finance. We somehow got talking politics (which I had promised myself I was going to stay away from on this trip), and I learnt quite a bit about how the political climate has changed here in the last year or so, and some of the challenges facing the US as the world economy is evolving.

I think he appreciated my views as an outsider, and I tried to be tactful. He even agreed with my assertion that America as a country is very much like a teenager in comparison with Europe – thinks it’s 10 feet tall and bulletproof, is full of testosterone, and has that sense of insecurity that a lot of us don’t grow out of until we reach adulthood.

The Compleat Angler

What has fishing got to do with traveling on Amtrak? Well, ‘The Compleat Angler’ is perhaps the seminal work on recreational fishing, and was written by an English gentleman by the name of Izaak Walton, and first published in 1683.

In 1929, the Great Northern Railroad constructed a bunkhouse in Essex, Montana, as this was then a crew change point on the railroad. In around about 1949, changes in operating practice meant the bunkhouse was no longer needed, and it was converted and upgraded to become the Izaak Walton Inn, and was of course named after the fishy fellow himself.

The Inn still operates today, and was to be my home for an all too brief 24 hours. It is located on the southern border of Glacier National Park, a very spectacular wilderness area, renowned for its natural beauty, black bears, glaciers and fishing.

I was quite content just to ‘lax out at the Inn, and enjoy a quiet day not traveling. I had thought about doing the Jammer Bus tour up through the park, but it was always going to be a very tight connection, and given the Empire Builder was 20 minutes late coming into Essex, that pretty much put an end to that idea.

I was operating in extra slow mode, as the altitude was proving a little challenging, but the staff were most accommodating in helping me with my baggage, and getting me settled in.

The Inn is a fascinating place to wander around, as it is absolutely chock full of railroad memorabilia. It could have very easily have been horribly kitsch, but wasn’t, as much as anything because it actually is the genuine article.

After a nice lunch accompanied by a local ‘Honey & Huckleberry Ale’, I went for a gentle amble trackside to take a few photos and do a bit of railfanning around Essex yard. This brought to mind the reason I was there in the first place. A number of you will have had the pleasure of knowing Mark Coldwell, a very dear friend who was taken from us last year at far too young an age. I think it’s fair to say that Essex was one of Mark’s absolute favourite places to visit, and so it became an important stop on my trip as well. It was quite a bitter-sweet experience sitting there trackside, watching the world go by, and reliving a very special ten year friendship. Thanks for the memories Mark!

Wandering back to the Inn, I met a chap who had just pulled into the carpark on his very tasty BMW R100GS. We got chatting about bikes and biking, as you do, and after a humorous few minutes spent bagging poseur Harley riders, Jeff must have thought I was tolerable company, so he invited me down to the flagstop bar for a drink. Montana has a thriving micro-brewery industry, so I enjoyed a local IPA, and Jeff had a hot toddy.

He was just out for a Sunday afternoon ride from his home in Whitefish, 50 miles or so west, and the Izaak Walton is a regular stop off for him whilst enjoying the twisties the area has to offer. Nice bloke, and a bit of a larrikin, I’d say. It was interesting to meet a genuine Montana native too, as everyone else around the place seemed to be from ‘away’.

After a very tasty dinner of chicken with huckleberry-orange sauce, I repaired back to the bar to do battle with the rather dodgy Wi-Fi connection supposedly available down there. It proved to be an exercise in frustration, as the connection kept dropping, and I think I only managed to get one post away successfully before giving up in frustration. Instead, I had a quiet giggle over my Cab Sav, watching a couple of lezzies trying to play pool. Then it was off to my very nicely appointed room, and an early night, due to another early start on the morrow.

As it happened, I could have slept in a bit longer, as guess what – today’s train was running even later than yesterday’s. Something tells me I had better get used to this….

Four States Before Breakfast

I got myself settled in my roomette on the Empire Builder, in good time before our 4:45 departure. Tarek, my sleeping car attendant, cheerfully hauled my bag upstairs for me, and got me settled with a Piccolo of California Methode Champagnois (incidentally, in California, Extra Dry seems to mean somewhere well on the ‘Sec’ side of ‘Brut’ – Gill, you would drink it by the caseload I’m sure).

California Dreamin'

Off we went, straight over the Columbia River and into Washington State. We hung a right, and continued up the north bank of the Columbia River for 55 odd miles. That is one majorly impressive waterway! Wildlife spotted en route included salmon, deer, seals, and Washingtonians with Guns.

Crossing into Washington State

I met up with Shane & Nancy, a nice couple from the wilds of NW Alaska, who were traveling up to Spokane. Shane was of Cherokee stock, but had lived up in Alaska for some years working as a commercial crab fisherman. It sounds like a bloody hard life to me, hauling 7 foot square crab pots up from ridiculous depths, 200 miles out into the Bering Sea. This is on a 185 footer, with a hold capacity of a couple of hundred thousand pounds! Like a lot of things round here, you come across stuff that is on a scale which is hard to comprehend in terms I’m used to.

Looking south across the Columbia River, at Mt. Hood back in Oregon

After dusk fell, and we started to head more northward, leaving the Columbia River, and heading for Spokane, and a rendezvous with the Seattle section of the Empire Builder.

We got to Spokane about half past midnight, and spend half an hour or so consolidating the two trains into one for the remainder of the trip east, and the headed off into Idaho. I totally missed Idaho, and when I woke up about 7:00am, we had already been in Montana for a couple of hours.

My next stop was at Essex, a couple of hours further east. To be honest, I was having a few reservations about this next section, as we had been climbing all night and the lowe air pressure was making things a bit uncomfortable. Still, no way was I not stopping as Essex....

Serendipity

This is one of the really cool things about this trip so far – once in a while something totally unexpected will pop up, and really make your day. At Frank’s suggestion, I went into Pioneer Courthouse Square, which is the hub of the city. My cab driver told me about an event called the ‘Tour de Fat’, which was taking place down on the riverside, just a few blocks from downtown. I caught a free tram down to the river and wandered along a bit, enjoying the lovely sunny weather, and the general ambiance of the place.

The abundance of bicycles was my first clue I was getting close. The second clue was the live music, which I can only describe as a fusion of Jazz, Punk & Rockabilly. The venue itself was just a big fenced off area of grass on the riverside, but with free entry – the fences just being to keep things contained. The Tour de Fat itself, is a celebration of bicycle culture, beer, and sustainability. The whole shebang is solar powered, features two stages of all sorts of really entertaining ‘fringe’ music, comedy, whatever. The beer is served in plastic ‘glasses’ which are made from corn, and are biodegradable – what a cool idea! While I was there they were holding bicycle races to see who would win the 2007 Portland Slowest Bicycle Rider championship. This was eventually won by a dude on a seven foot tall unicycle, who seemed to be able to balance himself in one spot for as long as he liked, whilst drinking a pint of beer.

As well as enjoying the beer and the very friendly buzz of the festival, I was dazed and confused, amazed and enthused, about the sheer variety of bicycles, skin art, wacky hairdos and outrageous costumes on display. It appears that mutton chop whiskers are very much in vogue in Portland this summer. I did get a few photos on my cellphone, but will have to wait to get home to retrieve them.

After a couple of hours of sitting in the sun giggling, I figured I had better wend my way back to Union Station. I could have cheerfully stayed much longer, as the whole thing was an absolute hoot. Anyway, after a few minutes gentle amble, nature was calling (one only rents the very fine Organic Amber Ale for a short time, sadly), so I repaired to Paddy’s Bar & Grill for a pee. Not wanting to be rude, I thought I had better have another beer, and sat at the bar marveling over their ‘top shelf’. This would have to be the most amazing collection of liquor I have ever seen – seven shelves, about 35 feet long, full to the gills with anything and everything one could possibly imagine. I briefly contemplated sampling a single malt or three, but after not being able to choose, opted for a Tia Maria for the road, and asked the barman to call me a cab.

My cabbie, Jeanette, duly arrived and we wandered off, arm in arm, towards her cab. I think she thought I was much drunker than I thought I was. I’m still not sure who was right, but we did have a fairly lucid conversation, so I can’t have been too far gone. In fact, I was her last fare for the day, and as we got chatting, I discovered her Dad is a bit of a train nut too. Discovering I was likewise afflicted, she decided she was going to take me to see some old preserved locomotives heaven only knows where. I said that it sounded like fun, but I was running out of ready cash, so not to rack up a big fare. ‘Not a problem,’ quoth Jeanette. ‘It’s about $5.00 from here to the station’, and then she switched off her meter, and off we went on a tiki tour. The closest we got to the locos was a distant view from an overpass, as by the time we got that far we were both starting to run out of time, so it was off back to Union Station. However, I did get to enjoy the company of an awesome lady for half an hour or so, and a free tour of Portland, with a lot of laughs beside.

Jeanette duly delivered me back to Portland station with a comfortable amount of time before my boarding call, we swapped business cards, and that essentially, was Portland. What a fabulous afternoon it was, and all totally spontaneous. I was sad to have to leave, as it was just such a cool place, and I would like to have been able to see more of it. In fact Oregon generally rates as a really cool place in my book. Still, another 25 odd states to go, so we shall have to see if it holds up long term.

Pushme-Pullyu

Saturday started with a quick trip back to Hertz, to return the lumbering beast. I’d ordered a cab the previous evening, to pick me up from there at 8:30am, and surprise, surprise, he was there on the dot. Auckland cabbies could learn something from this!!!!

A quick 5 minute drive to Eugene Station, left me with plenty of time before my train’s scheduled departure at 9:15. This train, the 1004, was a push-pull service which arrived from Portland just before 9:00, and then disappeared back towards Portland, on time, with me on board.

It was an interesting consist, with an F40PH locomotive on each end, and one single level coach and a snack car sandwiched between. The only bugger was that there was no checked baggage service, so I had to wrestle both bags on board, and nearly blew a foo-foo valve in the process. I breakfasted on the train, partaking in something Amtrak euphemistically call a ‘Breakfast Sandwich’. It was actually a hot Bagel, filled with a sausage patty and scrambled egg. Odd, but actually quite nice when accompanied with a coffee.

We duly arrived in Portland, Oregon after a couple of hours traveling through mainly open farmland – more cropping than livestock, with a few stops in smaller towns en route. The last 20 minutes or so were alongside the Willamette River, through scenery remarkably like the section of SH1 that parallels Lake Karapiro back home. Very pretty, and a pleasant contrast after the rather dry, depressed looking cropland further south.

The approach to Portland Union station is via a very impressive two-level steel bridge, with the railroad on the bottom level, and vehicular traffic up top. The station itself is very impressive, and what was even better was having my baggage whisked away by a waiting attendant, straight to the very posh lounge reserved for us up-market types traveling onward by sleeper. Frank, the helpful lounge attendant sorted me out, so I was ticketed all the way through to Boston, and also checked my big suitcase all the way through to there as well. That is quite literally a big load off my mind, and I won’t need to worry about it until after I pick up my next rental car in Boston.

I had a four hour layover in Portland before my first leg on the Empire Builder. Hmmm – what to do?

Tenses, Time Zones & Technology

I’m finding it a tad confusing keeping track of the days with some of these posts. I’m generally writing them offline, a day or two after the events themselves, and then due to the vagaries of internet access, it can be another day or two before they actually get published.

For example, as I write this, it’s Monday, just coming up to 3:00pm Mountain Time (that would be 9:00am Tuesday back home), and I’m riding the Empire Builder, just east of Havre, Montana. Hopefully I will get on the ‘net from my hotel in Chicago Tuesday evening, and you’ll be able to catch up with what’s happened since my Friday afternoon, on your Wednesday afternoon or evening. There! I’m glad we’ve got that all sorted out!

Goin’ wild in Eugene?

Yeah, right! I did however spend a very pleasant few hours at the 6^th Ave Bar & Grill, just up the road from my rather scrufulous hotel, after getting back from my visit to Mark Murphy.

I can highly recommend it if you are ever in Eugene: friendly staff, great food, and Stella Artois on tap. Even better, they had WiFi on tap too, so I managed to get a couple of posts away, and caught up on my email.

From there it was back to the hotel, and an early night; Saturday promised to be a long day.

Children of the rEVolution

A select few of you gentle readers will know I’ve been working on a project, on and off over the past few years, to design & develop an electric powered, 3 wheeled vehicle, targeted at the commuter market. This is partly because I think it’s a way cool idea, and I want one for myself, and partly because I think it is a mighty fine idea from an environmental standpoint. If you look at the numbers, something like 80% of commuting journeys are less than a 30km round trip, and of that 80%, a further 80% are undertaken in single occupancy vehicles. So why do we continue to use 1500+kg, 5 seater, inefficient gas guzzlers to undertake these journeys? Largely from habit, and due to the vested interests and marketing clout of the auto and oil industries, I suspect.

There is a small but growing group of people who are of a like mind to me, and one who is way ahead of the game, is Mark Murphy, the man behind Blue Sky Design. BSD is located in Creswell, a small country town a short drive south of Eugene, and Mark is in fact the very reason I’ve come to Eugene.

A lot of my design ideas have been shamelessly lifted from the Electrathon community, and Mark’s Aerocoupe racer design had long piqued my interest. After messing around with my own design ideas, and dealing with the reality that there is a huge gap between these and my ability to execute them, I realized that the Aerocoupe was perhaps 70% of the way towards what I was after. All it needed was suspension, a bit more ground clearance, and MORE POWER.

I exchanged a few emails with Mark, outlining what I had in mind, and suddenly a bunch more pieces of the puzzle fell into place: Enter the BugE!

The BugE is Mark’s latest creation, and another big step in line with my earlier thinking. I’d say great minds think alike, but the big difference is that Mark, a former design engineer with BMW, has turned his ideas into reality. Ever the pragmatist, I figure no point in reinventing the wheel when better minds than mine have paved the way.

Mark’s immediate response to my idea of modifying the original Aerocoupe concept was to suggest mating an Aerocoupe body with a BugE chassis. Bingo! A quick mockup in Visio looked very promising in terms of overall dimensions, and so a visit to BSD very quickly became a top priority on the Road Trip agenda.

This afternoon I had the very great pleasure of meeting Mark in person, and I think it’s fair to say we hit it off straight away. Not only was he very receptive to my thoughts, it turns out that he has a very similar concept in mind for the next phase of BugE development… as Mark says ‘Something a little more extreme’. Sounds like a bit of me all right (insert evil grin here).

So, all going well, this paves the way for a bit of trans-pacific collaboration, which I hope will be both a lot of fun, and useful to us both. I can hardly wait, and am looking forward to the makings of a next generation BugE accompanying a ‘vette back to N.Z.

Conspicuous Consumption

OK, soapbox time! As mentioned in my last post, I had booked a car with Hertz before leaving home, so I would have a convenient way of getting around Eugene, and more importantly, a means to get on down to Creswell to meet up with another new friend, Mark Murphy. I had booked a nice, modest little Ford Focus. Perfectly adequate for my needs, and not too intimidating to drive around a strange city.

Well, the nice man at Hertz did have a Focus on the lot, but I wasn’t allowed it, seeing as how it was due for an oil change. So, like he was doing me the biggest favour in the world, the very nice gentleman upgraded me to a Nissan Titan at No Extra Cost! Well, a Nissan Titan is a rip snorting 5.6l V-8 double cab ute. What a freaking monster! Its taller than I am, and generally bigger than Texas.

What pushes my buttons, is the fact that this seems reflective of a general attitude hereabouts. Haven’t you people heard about Peak Oil & Global Warming? Detroit needs to get with reality – we can’t go on like this forever.

Oh, and before I get castigated as a hypocrite for wanting a V-8 ‘vette, remember the Corvette is a Small Car despite its engine capacity, and in my case will only be a weekend warrior. To add to that, my other cunning plan is to be running a zero emissions vehicle in the very near future, so I figure my net impact will be on the positive side of the ledger in the end.

Oh, and a final shot, before I step back into holiday mode: Is it true that there is an inverse correlation between the size of a man’s vehicle and the size of his manhood? This small car owner thinks so!

It’s All Just A Big Village, really.

The internet has a lot to answer for, and most of it is all good. The immediacy of communication across the world is turning those of us who are connected, into residents of a big global village.

A case in point: a couple of weeks before heading away, I got involved in a bit of a discussion on the Yahoo Groups ‘Power Assist’ group. This particular thread headed off into a comparison between the laws for low powered, electric assist vehicles in Oregon vs. New Zealand. Through this, I got to chatting with a certain Bill Bates of Portland, Oregon. I was asking Bill if he knew of any EV (electric vehicle) related events in the Eugene / Portland area that were happening whilst I was in town.

To cut a long story short, Bill very kindly offered to meet me at Portland Union Station on Saturday, and show me his WAW (nothing kinky here folks, move right along, and check out the link). The WAW is a Belgian designed and built Velomobile, of which Bill owns example #42 (a most auspicious number, coincidentally).

However here am I in Eugene, and what do I see but WAW 42 strapped to the roof of a car in the station carpark. What the….????

WAW42 in Eugene (photo courtesy W. Bates)

‘Hello, you must be Simon’, I hear from next to me. ‘Gidday Bill’ sez I, cool as a cucumber. Sure enough, that photo of my ugly mug at the top of this page was enough for Bill to recognize me.

Introductions over we repaired to the café conveniently located next to his car, and over a very nice lunch and a very welcome cold beer, Bill told me he had run into a bit of a schedule conflict for our planned Saturday meeting, so he took a punt, strapped his velo’ to the roof of his car, and drove two hours to Eugene in the hope of meeting me there. How cool is that?

We spent a very pleasant couple of hours talking EVs, Life, The Universe, and well, Everything, really. It was a really awesome surprise, and I feel privileged to have made a new friend. We had to cut things short, as I had a rental car to collect before closing time. Before Bill and Puppy the Pomeranian wended their way back to Portland, they very kindly drove me to Hertz, and made sure I was all set with my truck. We had an impromptu photo session, and then, just before heading off, Bill presented me with a very interesting book on the history of Oregon, as a memento of my visit.

Bill, I feel very honoured to have met you, and am humbled by your generosity. Thank you once again, and I hope we run into each other again – maybe even in N.Z.

If Today is Thursday, this must be Oregon

Not quite…. When I woke up around 7:00 am we were just approaching Dunsmuir – our final stop in California. We should have been in Oregon by then, but were running nearly two hours behind schedule. No stress though, as I have no deadlines to worry about today. Feeling like crap this morning. Not sure if it’s the altitude, lack of sleep, or after effects of So-Cal smog. Still, the scenery more than makes up for it, and the coffee sure helps too.

We are passing through spectacular pine forests in quite rugged country. Just the sheer scale of it all is quite breathtaking. Damn near impossible to photograph from a moving train though. After a while we emerge into an area of scrubby grasslands interspersed with wetlands, and the vistas open up as we approach the Oregon border, and our first stop in state number two. Klamath Falls provided an opportunity to go for a wee wander and enjoy the morning sunshine for a few minutes. The conductor on the PA referred to it as a ‘fresh air smoke stop’. Nice oxymoron! I discovered that sometime during the night, a couple of private cars had been attached to the rear of our train. Cool!

Approaching Klamath Falls

Onward we cruised toward Eugene, with the occasional stop, whilst waiting for UP traffic control to clear us further on our way. There seems to be a lot of track maintenance underway, which is causing the delays.

The scenery alternates between open grasslands and lakes to narrow pine filled gorges, and back again, with the transitions being startlingly abrupt at times. Especially when they involve tunnels. Several times I’ve caught myself exclaiming ‘H*ly Sh!t’ as a new and spectacular scene came into view.

My train finally arrived in Eugene just over 2 hours late. When I dragged my bags out of the station, wondering where all the cabs were, I saw something startlingly familiar, and very out of place…. More to follow.

The Coast Starlight

So far, I’m very happy with my decision to patronize Amtrak. The Coast Starlight arrived pretty much on time, and I was greeted by my sleeping car attendant, Ron, with a cheery ‘You must be Simon’, as he slung my bags aboard, and showed me to my Bedroom (I booked a Roomette, but got upgraded to a Bedroom, when I collected my ticket).

I was booked for a 12:30 lunch, so just had time to get settled before being called to the diner. Community seating is the order of the day, so I enjoyed pizza and beer in the company of Laura, and her daughter Eva, who were en route from San Diego to San Jose. Eva was a precocious little piece of about 6 or 7, who insisted I must be Harry Potter. Amazing what glasses & a funny accent will do. Laura was originally from Connecticut, and assured me I would love New England, and that I’m going at the best time of year. Cool!

The afternoon was spent cruising up the central California coast, including passing right through Vandenberg Air Force Base. I caught a few glimpses of the Satellite and ICBM launch facilities, as well as the back-up runway for Space Shuttle landings.

An old Spanish Mission on the central coast

The coastal scenery was spectacular. The first section was almost wall to wall Winnebagos. It looks like people just park up and camp literally on the edge of the highway. Messy Bessie the Troublesome Toyota (my RV back in Riverhead) would have felt right at home.

As we got further north, signs of life diminished somewhat, and the air cleared. By dinnertime we had reached Point Concepcion, where the coastline turns more northerly. The Union Pacific Railroad, whose rails we were traversing heads inland at this point, going up a wide valley full of ‘erb and asparagus farms and interspersed with oil derricks. Next stop was San Luis Obispo, further up the valley. I got the lowdown on the area from my dinner companions, one of whom was a very opinionated lady of indeterminate years. I now know a lot more about illegal immigrants, agriculture, Cuba, and the abysmal state of education in Louisiana than I ever thought possible.

The view from the horseshoe curves, just north of San Luis Obispo

As dusk fell, we closed with the coast again near Monterey, and I enjoyed watching the sun go down in the company of a very nice couple who had come to America a decade ago from Hyderabad via London.

I tried for an early night, but my body clock was still all screwed up, and it must have been close to 3:00 am before I got to sleep properly. Still, I did get to see the lights of what must have been the San Francisco Bay area as we went past.

A Word about Luggage

OK, three words – Too Damn Heavy. I’m struggling with the big suitcase, even though it is on wheels. I’m going to see if I can re-arrange a few things, and get the big sucker sent all the way to Boston. That should make life a lot easier. I’ll see what my friendly Amtrak agent in Portland has to say about it.

Jet Lag, What Jet Lag?

You would think after the rigors of the previous day, I would have slept 8 or 10 hours. Oh no; by 5:00am I was wide awake, so up and at ‘em once again. The inclusive continental breakfast provided as part of the room package would have to rate as one of the worst cases of misleading advertising to date. At least the beverage, which almost, but not quite resembled coffee, was hot.

The view from my window at Casa Sirena – it almost made up for the rest of the hotel

I was quite happy to be on my way again, and cruised into town to find the Amtrak station. I picked up my pre-booked ticket for the Coast Starlight, checked my baggage, and also purchased a ticket to take me through from Essex to Chicago. I wasn’t able to book this leg online, as there is no ticket agent at Essex, and I wanted to ensure I got a roomette. I don’t really fancy doing that leg – all 1573 miles of it – in coach.

Next was a quick trip back to Hertz to drop off the car. The very nice lady there organized a ride back to the rail station for me, which saved me a cab ride. My driver was a young Hispanic guy. He was very pleasant, and apologized for the weather, explaining that all the smog and haze was due to fires up Santa Barbara way.

I got back to the station with plenty of time to spare, and arranged myself on the platform to await the 11:55 to Eugene.

Freaked Out in L.A.

Hertz kindly provide a free shuttle bus from the terminals to their LAX HQ. It’s actually on site, within the airport complex, but it was still about a 20 minute ride. My first inkling that this place is just a wee bit bigger than we are used to at home.

The bus driver was a very friendly, and chatty lady, who was about 2 axe handles wide across the stern. Yes folks, everything is bigger in America. She was (I assume) giving us lots of helpful information over the PA, but I could only make out about one word in ten. As it turns out, my kiwi accent seems to be equally unintelligible to some of the locals too. Talk about Nations separated by a common language!

My first little win was with the rental car. I had booked a bottom-of-the-line model, but got a free upgrade to a nice little Corolla. Now to brave L.A. traffic. This is where the ‘freaked out’ bit starts. First off, dealing with intersections took some very careful concentration, as my instincts were totally at odds with what was required. Secondly, I don’t know where in hell the concept that kiwi drivers are bad came from. These people are lunatics! No-one uses indicators to change lanes, and everyone exceeds the speed limits by 10 to 15 mph. Only one scare, and I still maintain it wasn’t my fault!

First stop, as planned, was at the nearest ‘Staples’ (think ‘Warehouse Stationary’ on steroids) to pick up a copy of Microsoft Streets & Trips to install on my trusty R2H. You can keep your ‘Rand McNally’ maps. This mapping and route planning application interfaces with the R2H's GPS receiver to provide real time route guidance.

From there I headed on out to the Pacific Coast Highway, through the coastal suburbs of Santa Monica & Malibu. The weather was in the mid twenties, and clear (apart from the smog), and beach bunnies were everywhere. Once I got comfortable with driving on the wrong side of the road, and traffic started to thin out a bit, I stopped at the Malibu Inn for a Corona, and the biggest Club Sandwich I’ve ever come across. Interesting old bar, lined with photos of old movie stars, going back to the ‘30s and ‘40s. That was about when the place was last redecorated too, by the looks. However the food was good, the beer cold & the staff very friendly.

The next challenge was to find my hotel, another 30 miles or so west, in Oxnard, Ventura County. I nearly made it, but got hopelessly lost in the last couple of miles. I eventually resorted to pulling over in a nice shady spot, and installing my new software. Once that was up and running, and a GPS fix obtained, it was simply a matter of going where the computer told me to, and 10 minutes later I arrived at the Casa Sirena Hotel & Marina.

Dinner then bed was the order of the day at this point, as by then I was absolutely knackered. Tuesday had stretched out to be 43 hours long, and apart from a couple of cat-naps on the plane, I had been up for something like 31 hours.

The Big Tin Budgie

Exiting N.Z. was about what I was expecting in this post 9/11 era. At least there were no dramas with my extensive collection of ‘LAGs’ (liquids, aerosols & gels) – i.e. half a dozen inhalers. Boarding went without a hitch, and the oxygen concentrator was all ready and waiting for me. Thank goodness Air NZ provided a nasal canulla rather than a mask, so my fellow travelers were spared my Darth Vader impressions.

I had made a couple of assumptions about the flight, both of which proved wrong. Instead of the expected 747-400, I flew on one of the new 777-200s, which was nice, especially with the new entertainment-on-demand system, with individual screens, and a squillion movies on offer. I had also hoped I might get an upgrade to premium economy, due to my need for a.c. power, but alas no, as there are a few strategically placed outlets in cattle class for medical equipment.

The flight itself was about as pleasant an experience as one could expect being jammed into a tin bird with 300 odd other people. I was placed next to a very pleasant young couple who were on their way back to Indiana after a year in N.Z. They weren’t impressed about having to go back, and were going to apply for permanent residency, with the hope of making N.Z home for good.

I would definitely have been in trouble without the concentrator, which was one of the cool new ‘AirSep’ portable models, which are about the size of a 2 litre ice-cream container, and only weigh a couple of kilos. I want one!!!!! Only $9,700 – hmmm, maybe not this week. The degree to which it made a difference was highlighted when I had to unplug myself to go check out the plumbing. After only a couple of minutes off it, I was very happy to be able plug in and get my sats back up to a tolerable level.

The highlight of the flight was watching the excellent kiwi comedy/horror ‘Black Sheep’. Highly recommended, except for the very squeamish, and a really good example of NZ film making at its quirky best.

We arrived at LAX pretty much on time, and whizzed through Customs & Immigration in well under an hour. Not even a cursory baggage check – as soon as they saw I was traveling on a kiwi passport, and had flown in direct from AKL, they couldn’t get rid of me quick enough. Sweet! Now, to find Hertz.

Altered States

I'm referring to my mind, as well as California. Having successfully survived a Tuesday that was 43 hours long, with not much sleep, I am feeling a bit spaced out. I'm finding California a bit surreal as well. Not sure if it's my state of mind, or the fact that although in many ways it's not that alien, the small differences give one pause for thought - the light switches work backwards, and the water level in the toilets looks dangerously high... as for the driving, well I'll talk about that in another post.

Anyway, I'm going to keep this short, so as not to put myself under time pressure this morning. Everything is going really well, and I'll write in more detail about the trip so far, once I get settled on Amtrak.

The 'Coast Starlight' is due to leave from Oxnard at 11:55 this morning, and arrives in Eugene a little before 1:00pm the next day, so my next post will likely come to you from Oregon tomorrow afternoon.

Adding Comments

Just noticed you had to register to post a comment - I've just changed this to allow anonymous comments - have fun, and don't forget to tell me who you are!

Ready to Rock'n'Roll

Well, the big day has finally arrived. I fly out this evening on flight NZ6, and as I write this over my morning coffee, I think I might actually be almost ready - just a bit of last minute packing to do.

It's a beautiful, still, clear morning here in Riverhead, which I'm taking as a good omen. Another motivating factor behind this trip, is the chance to get away from the NZ winter for a bit, so 'Huey' must be having a bit of fun with me today, by turning on a nice day.

Another early start (for me, anyway) this morning, with a couple of 7:00am calls and texts from friends wishing me well - thanks guys (yawn :-).

I've actually been really blown away by all the interest, support and good wishes received from family & friends in regards to the trip. It makes me realise how lucky I am when it come to the really important things in life! Thank you all, and I hope you enjoy taking the trip with me.

Stop the Presses - I just got my first comment on my blog - Woo-hoo!! Thanks RoB - Love you too.

Last night, I finished re-reading Paul Theroux's 'The Old Patagonian Express', which is a very insightful travelogue about a trip by train from Boston, Massachusetts to Patagonia in southern Argentina. Its quite a 'serious' work, but a good read, and is as much as anything all about the process of travelling by one's self, and how that impacts on the experience - not easy to describe, but I think very good for getting me into the right head-space for the trip.

I recommend it (and the earlier 'Great Railway Bazaar') as being excellent reads - should be available in your local library, or, if you want to borrow my copy, please form a orderly queue on the left.

Well, best be getting on with the last few jobs. Talk to you all soon, from the City of Angels.

Project 'Vette

1972 Corvette Stingray - a 454 big block with nice loud Hooker headers & side pipes -yum!

Most people who know me well, know I'm a phlegmy shade of green when it comes to things environmental, and am very interested in electric vehicles and alternative energy, but they also know I've always been a bit of a petrol-head at heart, as well.

I've owned eleven motorcycles, one of which sparked a moderately successful foray into F3 in the late '80s, and a couple of tasty sportscars, including a Mark I Toyota MR2 (not supercharged, alas), and my current beastie, a '96 Nissan Silvia Qs.

I've had the Silvia for nearly four years now,and it still puts a smile on my face every day I drive it. Needless to say, its been breathed on, just a little bit

However, one thing I've secretly always hankered after, is a mean, nasty 'ol Yank V-8 Muscle Car. Totally un-PC, what the hell, you only die once, right! Now in NZ (and more-so in Aussie), you are either a Ford man, or a Holden man (unless you're one of those poor sad characters joining the welcomed resurgence of Mopar Madness, thanks to the the new 300C, but I digress).

I've always been a Holden supporter (R.I.P, Peter Brock - 05 for ever), and in US terms that means GM, and more particularly Chevy!

This trip to the US, coupled with the fortuitous availability of a wee bit of uncommitted capital , provided the ideal catalyst to make this a possibility - not to mention the chance of a kick-ass road trip. But in what car?

My initial thoughts were heading towards a '70 1/2 - '73 Camaro RS, but then I rediscovered Corvettes and then it simply became a matter of 'which one?'. I don't know what sparked my initial liking for 'vettes, but once I started looking into the marque in more detail there was no question in my mind, that a C3 was the way to go.

There are a few reasons for this; the C3 model, produced between 1968 and 1982, is what immediately springs to my mind when someone says Corvette Stingray. The first five years or so of production cover the classic years of the unbridled search for horsepower which characterize the 'Muscle Car' design paradigm, and finally, damn it all, there is no way I could afford a '63 C2 split window coupe anyway.

Also, being a bit contrary by nature, I've always had a bit of a soft spot for fibreglass bodied cars. I almost bought a Reliant Scimitar GTE once, but probably best not to go into that in a family rated forum. Despite the 'vette being a plastic fantastic, risk of rust in the chassis and birdcage are a significant factor in purchasing a 30-plus year old car, so I figured concentrating my search within the southern states would help stack the odds in my favour in this regard.

This factor was a major one in shaping the itinerary for the trip a clockwise loop of the lower 48. The main reason for this is, once I finally got my head around the distances involved, it made a huge amount of sense to do the majority of the 11,000 odd miles by train, and then drive the last third or so back to LA . . . a classic road trip through the south at the start of Autumn. Sounds mighty fine to me. And a good chance of picking up a nice 'vette somewhere between Florida & California.

So, now to find a Very Tidy 1970-1972, manual trans, small block Corvette. Much in all that the high performance LT1 model would be nice with 370hp out of the box in 1971, I think I'll be lucky to find even a good base model (only 300hp LOL) within budget, so I may have to look a bit further into the mid '70s. We shall see.

I've been tracking relevant sales data on e-bay and other places over the last few months, so I think I've got a pretty good handle on the market, and will start hunting in earnest as the convention in Portland draws to a close, and I head south. Let the hunt commence!