After a lovely week in the San Francisco Bay Area, it was time to continue my journey northward to Portland and Seattle, this time by myself. In planning my trip, I was particularly excited about taking the Coast Starlight, which runs the span of the west coast from Los Angeles all the way to Seattle. I have driven this journey several times over the years and imagined gazing upon blue waters of the Pacific Ocean from the observation car, watching surfers surf, eagles circle, and other iconic west coast imagery.

Alas, none of that happened, as I soon discovered that my leg didn’t include the part of the Coast Starlight’s journey that runs along the coastline (which happens further south). Also, my train departed Emeryville in the dark of night, and so by the time I awoke, we were already in Klamath Falls, southern Oregon, meaning I had missed the beautiful volcanic crater area around Mount Shasta as well. However, I made do with the beauty of the Oregon Cascades, including several more stunningly blue lakes. Whether traveling along the coast on Highway 101 or in the mountains, I’ve found the scenery of Northern California, Oregon and Washington State always enjoyable. Perhaps this is a result of being raised in the dry West Australian bush--by comparison, everything seems so green and gorgeous!

More riverside loveliness in southern Oregon

Whenever available, I spent the vast majority of my time in observation cars. Somewhere in southern Oregon, I looked up from my Kindle to notice that the back head of the person in front of me looked familiar. Indeed, it was Orly, a fellow traveler I’d met earlier in my journey, on the California Zephyr from Chicago to Denver. A coder who lives in Washington DC, she had also been drawn in by the USA Rail Pass’ seasonal sale, and we’d discovered that we’re taking a very similar route, from DC to Chicago, San Francisco, Seattle, Glacier, and then back to DC. She was going all the way to Seattle, and I gave her some insider tips on my former home. 

Otherwise, I found the atmosphere in the observation car on this trip less social than on the California Zephyr. It was a little disappointing, but I’m just as much to blame for not trying to initiate conversation, given I spent much of it buried in my laptop or with earbuds in, looking out upon the gloomy, drizzly weather as we moved through Eugene and Salem. Interestingly, in what I found to be largely ethnically white spaces, most of my neighbors were older Taiwanese travelers, perhaps part of a tour group. I eavesdropped as they had passionate discussions on China-US relations. One of my favorite train rides from my twenties was from Taipei to Kaohsiung--I imagine many of them had also taken that journey as well. 

After a relaxing few days catching up with friends in Portland, I took the Cascade Express from Portland to Seattle. There was no observation car on that train, only a café car. However, there was cocaine. For the entire length of the journey, I alternated between feeling vexed and bemused by the intense conversation going on behind me between three middle-aged strangers, a couple and a man traveling solo, who I dubbed “Jam band Jeff.” For having just met this couple, Jeff was remarkably friendly and intimate, often getting out of his chair to wrap an arm around the other man and shout animatedly into his ear, on occasion transforming into passionate evangelist for his favorite rock bands, such as Widespread Panic. They had brought a small stereo, which he used to showcase his favorite songs.

Jeff rambling into his coke buddy's ear

“Just listen to the sick runs on this next guitar solo! This man is the greatest guitarist of all time!,” he gushed. At one point, mid-jam band ramble, the Amtrak staff came over to ask them to stop playing music. They compromised on turning down the volume. Beyond music, Jeff talked the ears off his new friends about real estate, effective marriages, and everything in between with the conviction of a convert. 

Meanwhile, I had struck up a conversation with Jake, sitting across the table from me. He was on his way back to Seattle after visiting family in Portland. He is in his late twenties, works in sales for a local manufacturer, and wore a white hoodie featuring a unique logo: a rainbow-colored rifle, only the cartridge was a book. I asked him what it represented, unsure whether I was about to regret initiating a conversation with a sovereign citizen or gun rights nut. Instead, I learned that he’s really into transformative justice: the logo was for a viral book club started by the hip hop artist Noname (check out her great Tiny Desk performance), which is dedicated to uplifting Black authors and Black-owned bookstores. 

Overall, the mood in the cafe car was celebratory: it was Seahawks Thursday, and a lot of passengers were on their way to Seattle for the football game, decked out in the teal and dark blue colors of their team. The weather was blessedly fine, and the scenery was stunning, tracing parts of the Columbia River and taking in small islands on the Puget Sound.

We passed alongside part of the Puget Sound near Olympia

Walking through the cars to get off in Seattle, Jake turned back to me, smiling: “Well, that was an interesting group.”

“Yeah. I guess that’s what booze will do to you,” I replied.

“Oh, I think there was a lot more going on than just booze,” he laughed. 

Jake filled me in: it turns out that before I’d taken a seat in the cafe car opposite Jake, the couple and Jeff--at the time just friendly strangers--had struck up a conversation about various recreational drugs. Before long, they had busted out cocaine, knives and everything, to snort some lines--right in the open of a cafe car with kids, fully visible to the Amtrak staff. Who did nothing. I was amazed at their gall. Jam Band Jeff’s intensity immediately made a whole lot more sense to me.  It was a very peculiar, very Pacific Northwestern ride back to my former home.

“I guess that’s what white privilege looks like,” I said to Jake, who chuckled in agreement. 

I stepped out of King Station into that most delicate of delights: a glorious blue-sky October day in Seattle. Crowds were pouring toward the Seahawks' stadium. I had finally made it to the furthest endpoint of my train trip: from the South Atlantic to America’s northwestern tip.

There's nowhere quite like Seattle on a sunny day