Seattle to Wenatchee

As the Amtrak Empire Builder moseyed up the westernmost side of Seattle, I tried mimicking its sound. Ta-ta-ta-ta-ta, ta-ta-ta-ta-ta, ta-ta-ta-ta-ta. My tongue hit the roof of my mouth, closely matching the noise of the slowly moving train. Departing exactly on schedule at 4:55 pm, we glided past the Smith and Columbia Towers, reaching the Olympic Sculpture Park moments after 5:00. Every hour on the hour, the two figures in Louise Bourgeois’ Father and Son sculpture are revealed, reaching for one another through a fountain of bubbling water that conceals one, or both of them, the rest of the time. Just as we passed, both were visible as the water quickly engulfed them. Great timing!

Photo Credit – Tim Trudell, The Walking Tourists

Just half an hour earlier, I’d walked into Seattle’s King Street Station holding a one-way Amtrak ticket from Seattle to Wenatchee. My husband had left for Eastern Washington earlier in the week to complete a project at our vacation home. Traveling by rail would allow us to reunite and return home the following week in one car.

The only option available that Friday was the Empire Builder, a sleeper train that connects Portland, Oregon to Chicago, Illinois over a 2-night, forty-five-hour journey. My Senior Discount coach-class ticket would cost less than a tank of gas. A real bargain. But there was another option - a “private room” for $103 more. Traveling in a “roomette,” included a seat in the dining car for a three-course meal, plus wine. Empire Builder passengers may bring their own food and even “adult beverages,” on board, but there’s no café car with cheap food options. And seats in the dining car are released to coach travelers only if space is available, no guarantee. We’d be rolling through supper-time, and I’d have to eat, so the dining car option sounded good. Plus, if we got stuck somewhere – a real possibility since freight trains share this track and get right-of-way - I could curl up in a real bed. With no idea what to expect, and not much to lose, I decided to splurge.

Forty-five minutes before its scheduled departure time, the train pulled in and started boarding sleeping car passengers. Tashi, the friendly and efficient First-Class Attendant, introduced himself and led me to roomette #11. Being on the ground floor meant I didn’t have to schlep my suitcase up the narrow stairs which led to larger rooms and the dining car. A lucky break.

Immediately, my sweater snagged on the Velcro lining of the privacy curtain which affords each tiny roomette a way to cloister itself. Damn! Aside from the exterior windows, which were streaked with filth, the roomette was fresh and inviting with bottles of water, abundant pillows covered in crisply ironed cases, linen head protectors on each seat, a box of tissues, and a panel explaining how to open the beds. Yes - this tiny room is designed to sleep two people – the seats connect to form the lower bed, and a folding shelf above eye level becomes the upper bunk. A honeymoon suite, this is not.

After storing my suitcase in the luggage rack by the door, it was time to check out the toilet and shower at the end of the hall. Surprise! Fresh flowers - roses - in the bathroom stall, and an immaculate shower room stocked with toiletries.

With a jolt, the train started moving. I walked back to my seat to take in the views, practically squealing with delight as my adventure began. With the sculpture park soon behind us, we continued north, hugging the coast. Picking up just a little speed, thuk-a-thuk-a-thuk-a-thuk-a-thuk-a-thuk-a-thuk replaced the earlier ta-ta-ta-ta-ta as we rode, passing rocky beaches and marinas bursting with pleasure boats. Next came the Port of Everett, with its shipping containers and huge silos.

We were still moving at what felt like 5 miles per hour. “When is this train going to start racing?” I wondered. “At this pace, we won’t get to Wenatchee ’til midnight.”

Finally, after turning east, The Empire Builder began humming. The sound of the wheels changed to “whoosh, whoosh.” Mountains and rivers replaced coastal views.

A porter came down from the dining car, taking dinner reservations. “We have seatings at 6:00, 6:45 and 7:30. Which would you prefer?” he asked.

“I’ll take 6:00 please. And, I’m curious, what do you serve?” I asked, keeping my expectations low. How good could train food be?

“You have your choice of salmon, pasta, chicken, or steak,” he said.

“Which do you think is best?” I asked.

“Oh, the steak for sure,” he recommended. “It’s really good. See you upstairs at 6:00.”

At the top of the winding staircase, I noticed a coffee urn and more fresh flowers. This was one of the nooks where sleeping-car guests can help themselves to unlimited coffee, juice, and water. Coach-class travelers have to fend for themselves.

With white tablecloths and small bouquets on every table, the dining car looked inviting. I was led to a table with one other single traveler, and we started chatting. She’d stay on the Empire Builder all the way to Chicago, then take another train to her hometown in Michigan. “I do it all the time,” she told me. “My mother lives in Michigan. But I’m flying back. Can’t take that much time off from work.”

“What’s the best part of this trip?” I asked.

“The stretch that goes through Glacier National Park, in Montana,” was her immediate answer. “You see all kinds of wildlife. It’s magical.”

We continued talking over dinner. Everything we ordered was delicious and my steak came exactly as requested - medium rare. Even the wine was good. But the best part was the view. As we chatted amiably, the sunset cast golden light over rivers and mountains. I was eager to share my experience with my husband, but cellphone reception was non-existent in many stretches and there was no reliable Wi-Fi.

Suddenly, my phone rang. A miracle. “Meet me in Leavenworth,” my husband suggested, “one-stop before Wenatchee. We’ll get to see each other sooner.” Tashi confirmed that this was a viable option, and would get me off the train a good half hour earlier. I didn’t really want this trip to end, but it made a lot of sense. We were already running fifteen minutes late and might encounter more delays before reaching Wenatchee.

The sky was pitch black when we pulled into Icicle Station, over a mile from Leavenworth’s Bavarian-themed downtown. A shuttle van idled, waiting to ferry passengers to their hotels, and moments later, my husband arrived. A happy reunion! We were both excited to share our recent adventures. Would I do it again? In a heartbeat. And maybe one day, go all the way to Montana.

My Very Jewish Weekends

Mindy Stern, Author