Oh, Canada!

The buttermilk lemon bars at the Vancouver Art Gallery's cafe were scrumptious! And that's not an easy thing to admit after nearly four days of some of the best cuisine the city had to offer. The museum itself is also a wonderful experience, though the current exhibition entitled "WACK!" was a bit over the top. Imagine two huge floors comprising several dozen smaller galleries filled with the work of many of North America's most radical feminist artists. Lots of vaginas, a few penises and quite a few works that defy description, though I was fascinated by the huge enclosure created from mattresses. Please remove your shoes before entering and NO jumping up and down!

Admittedly, that was how I spent the time after checking out of the Metropolitan Hotel and before my departure to the train station this afternoon. Instead the last few days have been about enjoying the sights of downtown Vancouver, especially the funky West End near English Bay, where indeed I did stroll out on the beach so I could let the surf wash over my hand. Next week, when I do the same in Halifax, my quest to traverse the continent from one end of Canada to the other will be symbolically complete.

Meantime, I made the most of what is a very walkable city. The days were not too frigid, so I spent most of my time on foot exploring the heart of downtown, Robson Street, with its dozens of shops and eateries. It runs east to west and intersects with all the famous Vancouver thoroughfares -- Georgia, Howe, Burrard, Cambie, Denham, to name a few. Naturally, I was also on the hunt for places to eat. I take after my mother in one way. I'm usually thinking about lunch while I am eating breakfast, always staying one step ahead so I can be certain I pick only the best spots to dine.

The hotel made it easy in one regard. The Metropolitan is home to one of Vancouver's best rooms, Diva at the Met. Two breakfasts, a lunch and my first night's dinner were enjoyed there. The Berkshire pork tenderloin was melt-in-your-mouth tender. Seafood was everywhere, but the "simply grilled" red snapper at Joe Forte's made for a hearty lunch. Of course, I skipped lunch on Thursday -- Canada's Thanksgiving is in October -- because the Cowboys game started at 12:30. Afterwards, though, I celebrated with bacon-wrapped scallops, a spinach salad and a big, fat filet at The Keg. I could go on about the desserts, but I'll spare you the temptation. Let's just say I will never forget the gooey meringue shell filled with a passionfruit mousse at Cin Cin. I told the waiter it was "sinful!"

Tonight, I am writing this snug in my bed northeast of Vancouver. A Bailey's on the rocks, my third, is proving the perfect sedative. Outside, it's gradually turning white. We are in for a snowy ride across British Columbia. Next stop, Jasper, AB, and the Canadian Rockies.

The train may be early, but the blog is late!

My God, what a fine way to travel! The Coast Starlight between Los Angeles and Seattle is the closest thing to long-haul first class service Amtrak has to offer. If you are in a sleeping compartment for the overnight trip up the coast and through Oregon and Washington, you are afforded the unique option of the Pacific Parlour Car, a rebuilt Santa Fe hi-level diner/lounge that ran on the old El Capitan service from Chicago to Los Angeles in the 1950s and 60s. Our hostess in the parlor was Michelle, who wore several hats. Her primary goal was to man the bar and serve meals to those of us who chose to dine from her menu, which was unique from the main dining car's bill of fare. She also led us through our two wine tastings and in her free time proved to be a great conversationalist and trip guide. I snapped several shots of the Pacific Parlour Car, but they do not do it justice.

The scenery along this route, of course, is its main drawing card. Beginning north of L-A in Simi Valley, you very quickly transition to California's vast agricultural resources -- fields of all sorts of fruits and vegetables, many of which we take for granted everyday when we add that "side salad" to our lunch or dinner. Once you hit the coastline, though, the journey gives way to those vistas everyone picks a lefthand seat to see. Surfboards and campers and RVs line the highway that parallels the track, but it is the blue of the Pacific that makes your mind begin to chew on the thought that "I could live here, maybe, in one of these RVs for the summer..."

As the train begins it journey inland, the sun is beginning to set and before you realize it you are on your way to Oregon. I like to sleep in the upper berth, so the next morning I can climb out and plop in my roomette seat and figure out just where the train is. South of Klamath Falls was the answer, which meant we were still on time! My window view was not much more than Oregon forests, but the Willamette River valley and the Cascade Mountains lay ahead, so day two would be almost as fun as day one.

This Starlight is not at capacity but there is still a great cross-section of your typical passengers. The veterans, like me, usually know all the ins-and-outs of rail travel. All the minutiae related to the equipment, how it works, where it came from, the schedules, the protocols, etc., even the history of Amtrak or VIA Rail. Then there are families taking the children for a "train ride." I would prefer a separate car for that bunch, something that has no access to the rest of the train. With bars on the windows, if necessary. Happy Meals could be loaded on board at the appropriate times. And then at the other end of the spectrum is the senior set, the same people that shuffle through airports completely bewildered by the real world. Now, they are simply shuffling through a train car, being knocked senseless as the cars sway back and forth at speed. These folks essentially span that age group I am trailing, so I will limit my humor. I'll know I am there, however, when I look in the mirror and the perfectly starched, very blue blue jeans hiked up to my belly button look quite normal!

There was one gentleman I will never forget. By the time the train arrived in Simi Valley he was already into a Sunday morning wine binge in the Parlour Car. As the train rocked along, he would lapse in and out of consciousness. I thought he'd fall out of his seat if the car swayed hard enough. The last I spotted him he was staggering off the train in Santa Barbara, but the best or possibly the worst part -- he had WET HIS PANTS! The huge damp spot made it obvious!

Seattle will be nothing more than a quick night's rest at the Best Western before an early departure for Vancouver, BC. That is when the real fun will begin!

(Note: Once I begin a post, the date is established at that moment. However, until I complete my thoughts and find Internet service, the entry remains in limbo. Hence, the disparity between what you are reading and the actual day or two I wrote it.)

Time warps

I must give a certain amount of credit to Allan, my favorite roommate of the four at the Grand Canyon. He has this remarkable ability to convince me to do the most improbable things. So, it should be no surprise to learn that only hours after my arrival in Los Angeles I was at a shooting range squeezing off 50 rounds from a Sig-Sauer .40-cal. automatic followed by hiking to Paradise Falls in Wildwood Park on a terrific set of trails near Thousand Oaks. And that was just day one!

The Southwest Chief had arrived 30 minutes early at Los Angeles Union Passenger Terminal and although I had my fears, he was there awaiting my arrival. Wonders will never cease. I simply hope picking me up was not on par with getting up to go dishwashing at the lodge. On those occasions, he was NOT a morning person. This time, and for the next two days he could not have been a better host. We not only had a great time just "hanging out," but he did his best to treat me to things I would never have done on my own. Like wandering down Hollywood Boulevard on a Friday night or going to Universal City's famous City Walk on Saturday. I even coaxed him and some of his friends into lunching at a sports bar for as much of the LSU/Ole Miss debacle as I could stomach.

The only disappointment I encountered took place at the famous Grauman's Chinese Theater. My excitement at spotting Olivia de Havilland's footprints was met with a vacant stare. And they had no clue who anyone else was, either! Having just seen "The Wizard of Oz," it was also fun to spot Ray Bolger and Billy Barty's stars on the sidewalk. And there was Frank Morgan, too. Maybe I just know my films better. Or maybe I am just old! There was an equal lack of enthusiasm for the DVDs I found at the Virgin Megastore. Who has not heard of "The Rocky Horror Picture Show"?? Or Brad and Janet? Depressing, for sure!

Sunday morning arrived and after watching a few minutes of the Cowboys game, it was time to board The Coast Starlight to Seattle. A hug goodbye and it was farewell to my little brother. The train was early and as we head for Oakland we are still on time. I'll spend a few minutes describing this leg in my next posting, but now it is time for a Bailey's or two before I turn in. After a Bloody Mary (made the right way by Josette in the lounge car}, a wine tasting, a "Star-tini" with dinner and these late night toddies, I will snooze well in my upper berth.

Before I go, though, Allan deserves one more thanks. Unlike some of his peers, who I discovered the word "maturity" is foreign to, he is genuinely an enjoyable young man to know. I will always appreciate that he chose to room with me at the Grand Canyon, but even moreso I will always be grateful that he has chosen to continue our friendship beyond that day we said "goodbye" at the North Rim Lodge. Goodnight, Allan! This last Bailey's will be to your success and good health.

The audacity of adventure

I cannot begin to conceive what a 4-week vacation by rail around North America will be like but when I stepped onto Sleeping Car 330 in Lamy, NM this afternoon it was too late to have any second thoughts. Now, I am comfortably relaxed in my roomette and day one is almost complete. The city of Flagstaff, AZ is rolling by and although it is sort of an unrelated thought, it just struck me that not too far north is my summer home, that big hole in the ground called the Grand Canyon. When I see Allan and possibly, Brody, in a few hours, I'll see if they miss it as much as I do!

The adventure so far has been rather unexciting. Lamy is where the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe came through northern New Mexico and although there is a spur line into town, Santa Fe was never actually on the main line of the railroad that came to be known by that moniker many years ago. For $20, however, Amtrak is gracious enough to provide shuttle service from your front door to the station so you can catch the Southwest Chief (not to be confused with the original "Super Chief") to Chicago or Los Angeles or points in between. Tony, the driver, was quite friendly the half hour it took to make the drive, even pointing out the site the stone was quarried for the cathedral and the famous Loretto Chapel in downtown Santa Fe.

Both the eastbound and westbound trains arrive in Lamy between 2 and 2:30 p.m. each day, so for about an hour or two the station is jumping, then dead the other 23 hours. Not a great way to make a living if you are a station agent at the depot. There is also a diner in an old dining car that served a decent cup of coffee and a bread pudding. That was enough to tide me over until dinner on the train at 6:30 with several Bloody Marys in between in the Superliner lounge car for good measure.

I would tell you that the scenery was gorgeous, but it was not. Between Lamy and Albuquerque, the train rolls through what has to be the worst part of town, places you would only see from the train or worse yet, if you got terribly lost. It is difficult to believe the conditions in which some people live, but God bless 'em, they have a dish and probably high speed Internet. What more do you need for your trailer/wooden shack combo in the desert! Upon leaving Albuquerque, it turns into evening rather quickly and although the sunset was pretty, it quickly faded into darkness. And with the darkness comes sleep. Simi Valley is the next stop after I arrive in LA. I can't wait to see my Grand Canyon little bro's Jeep!

Watch For Snakes!

That was what the sign said at this brand new, state-of-the-art rest stop along I-40 in the Texas panhandle east of Amarillo. Frankly, I didn't notice it at first, more intent on finding some much-needed relief after hundreds of miles of driving across the northern part of the state on my return journey to Santa Fe. But there it was, firmly planted in the landscaped gravel beds surrounding the huge visitor's center with its touch screen displays covering everything from local historical sites to the region's weather forecasts. "Watch For Snakes." I wonder how many travelers have actually seen a snake and, if so, did it cause them to relieve themselves sooner than planned?

The drive across north Texas is really one of the most enjoyable ways to return to New Mexico from Louisiana. It's almost as if you are sneaking by all the big cities on I-20 and cheating them out of the heavy trafffic they have waiting to snare you in some massive jam on the LBJ Freeway in Dallas or US-287 in Fort Worth. What you do see are the wind farms that are now sprouting up in the wide open spaces just south of the Oklahoma border next to the horse breeders and oil wells that have been there for years. Amarillo is still the destination after a long day's drive, but certainly it is a less harried way to make the journey.

Amarillo, like Abilene, is a place the family was once in the hotel business. Beyond that, there is not much more to discuss. I stayed at the Fairfield Inn using my employee discount, got up the next morning and had breakfast at a local spot famous for its pancakes (huge AND tasty), then hit the road to Santa Fe. In retrospect, I cannot say I see many differences between the two. Both are just points on the interstate highway system with nondescript downtowns and one area on the outskirts chock full of all the chain stores, hotels and restaurants you'd expect to find clustered together. Urban blight on the dusty Texas plains!

Now I am in Santa Fe. The City Different. It's not everyone's idea of paradise. My uncle doesn't care for all the "mud huts" even if some of them are several million dollars worth of "mud." Beyond that, though, it is hard to beat for culture, art and, of course, gastronomic pleasure. I will go broke before I go hungry, but after six months of employee dining room fare at the Grand Canyon who could blame me for a little indulgence here and there. And if you could have tasted the crepes I had for breakfast Saturday morning, drizzled in chocolate, you'd certainly understand!

On Wednesday it is off to California en route to Canada. I can't wait to see Allan's Jeep or Allan for that matter. Even better, I cannot wait to hit the rails. All aboard!