I’ve taken four lengthy train trips, all aboard Amtrak in the western U.S. It’s a special way to travel, following routes laid down by wagon trains through landscapes you couldn’t see any other way.
The romance of the rails is real but also wears thin. Amtrak rents track access from the freight lines that own them and claim priority, which means you can spend hours sitting on a siding in Utah waiting for a 200-car train to rumble through.
It’s nice to be able to wander around a train but there aren’t many places to wander to. On three of my trips we reserved rooms in sleeper cars, whose seats fold flat into beds. Those tickets also grant access to the dining car, whose offerings have declined from midcentury banquets to marginally upscale airline food. Still, it’s terrific to sit at a table, order off a menu, and watch the landscape roll by.
Tiny toilets and showers are down the corridor, and sometime around the end of Day Two the experience starts to feel like camping. It’s fun, but you’ll be ready for a real bed and bathroom when it’s over.
All that said: I’ve loved every trip. The other passengers usually include a character or two, and there’s always an amateur historian in the observation car happy to tell tall tales about the country you’re crossing.
Why take a train when an airplane will get you there faster and cheaper? It’s not about the destination, it’s the journey. Patience.
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