Soon after arriving in Seattle, Hope received some sad news. Her maternal grandmother had passed away, and the funeral was now being planned. In addition to grieving the passing of her grandma, this also meant that we had to cancel the rest of our trip plans. In addition to our planned trip together to Glacier, I cancelled the remainder of my planned final solo legs, including from Glacier to Chicago, Chicago to DC, and DC to Durham. The Camino de Amtrak was not entirely scrapped however, as I was able to book my final leg from Boston back to Seattle with the Rail Pass, thus allowing me to finish out the loop by train, as I had originally intended.

The funeral was not for seven days or so, and we made plans to fly back to Boston a few days prior, giving Hope time to help with arrangements. This gave us a few additional days in Seattle, and we decided to take a two night road trip to the Olympic Peninsula, site of our covid honeymoon last year, and one of our favorite places in general. While it would have been great to visit Glacier, the Olympic Peninsula (or “OP” as a friend calls it) could hardly be considered a consolation: it is an incredibly beautiful, wet, mystical and remote part of the world. We were graced with more precious sunshine as we visited some old favorites (Crescent Lake, the beaches of La Push) and new spots (Devil’s Punchbowl, Sol Duc hot springs). After traveling so intentionally and slowly out from Durham to this, the very northwestern edge of the continental United States, I felt particularly appreciative of the OP and its moss-covered forests, driftwood-strewn beaches, and local tribes (including the Quileute man who sold us smoked salmon). 

Devil's Punchbowl at Lake Crescent, Olympic National Park

I think this was at Second Beach in La Push

On Cape Cod for the funeral, I was so grateful for the opportunity to attend this important ceremony. It was also another precious opportunity to deepen my relationship with my in-laws and to be “good kin” to the Mashpee Wampanoag tribe. Through stories, I learned much more about Grandma Anne, truly a matriarch of the family, and although I never got to meet her, her legacy and spirit shone through in the large family she left behind. The funeral was powerful and touching, taking place at the Old Indian Meeting House (the oldest in the country), and I was particularly moved during the tribal drumming and a final prayer by Hope’s cousin niece, recited in Wampanoag, a language only recently revived.

A picture of Hope's beautiful late grandmother, Anne

After the funeral and spending time catching up with cousins, I took the Northeast Regional overnight train from Boston to DC. Compared to the iconic routes I’d taken earlier in the trip, this was far less romantic. I boarded around 9:30pm. It was packed with commuters and college students, and for some reason, the cabin was really hot at night. My main memory of the journey was waking up from spotty sleep around 3am at Penn Station in NYC, in order to switch from sweatpants to shorts. Far smoother was the Carolinian, which I took the next day from Washington Union Station to downtown Durham. It was far less crowded and I was able to spread out and relax, enjoying the same views of the Potomac River and rural life that I had begun my trip with, some 32 days earlier. 

The Potomac River - not far from the Maryland town where I first moved back in 2000

Like many things in life, my Camino de Amtrak did not work out exactly the way I had planned, but I think the practices that I’d endeavored to maintain along the way--meditation, journaling, etc.--allowed me to adapt and make the most of my situation. In that sense, I believe I achieved all of my major goals for the trip, including to push through discomfort, gain wisdom, appreciate and deepen my relationship with the country, connect with fellow travelers, spend quality time with friends and family, reflect on my past, present and future, and explore new topics of interest through my reading. There were no lightning bolt moments of revelation and insight, but that’s OK. Such things tend to come for me in subtler, slower ways. The trip had been full of wonderful conversation--with old and new friends alike, beautiful scenery, delicious meals and time to read, reflect, think and just be. 

Later that night, after my friend picked me up, he and his wife invited me to have dinner at their house, where we discussed the tension between the always-alluring pull of my wanderlust, versus the desire to nest and build a beloved community. The couple spoke of how for the first time in their adult lives, they felt content and excited to stay put here in Durham, having spent their 20s living in different countries and cities. Like the refreshing chill of the fall evening, their words were a timely reminder of the ever-changing seasons of an individual’s needs and roles. I embarked on this train trip in search of greater clarity regarding the next phase of my life and career; I’ve since returned home, still exploring, still searching, but my future path now slightly more illuminated.

She's stuck with me now, fanny pack and all!