Tracking Down Starlight
Amtrak Coast Starlight Travelogue & Photos by Joy Basso
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Choo Choo! All aboard! Usually that would be the signal to
play with grandpa's old Lionel train set or Santa's Christmas
Express. This time, it beckoned a new kind of play - a train
trip between Fullerton and Oakland, California on the Coast
Starlight. Even the name conjures up visions of gazing into
a motion picture of starlit beaches. What an adventure!
Chuck and I were like two little children in anticipation as we
raced down the freeway to the train station. "Are we there
yet?" would have been the echo from past kid trips. The
sluggish traffic made us grateful that our excitement had
gotten us out the door early that morning.
We arrived at the Fullerton Train Station in plenty of time to
take photos, read the plaques proudly displayed around the
station, do some people watching and forage for a parking
space in the nearby parking structure. After capturing the
obvious photos, I searched for the less obvious ones and ran
up the stairs of the pedestrian overpass for a bird's eye view
of the incoming trains. When I turned around to catch the
opposite view I saw a man frantically flailing his arms in my
direction. Upon closer examination, I perceived the frantic
man to be my husband and traveling companion. Yikes! He
was boarding the train. I knew that it couldn't be the right
train but made an instant decision that I'd rather be on the
wrong train with the right man than on the right train with the
wrong man.
The train's sound system rang in Chuck's ear: "Step in, sir.
Do not hold the door open. This is not an elevator." I felt
like a stunt double for a train scene. I grabbed the long
handle by the open door and jumped inside with my camera
in tow. Chuck directed me to the only available seat and I
flopped down. The sprint from the pedestrian overpass
could have qualified me for a marathon. Even though
exhausted and out of breath, I mustered a smile in the
direction of the woman sitting next to me. She glumly looked
away muttering something about people like me making the
train late. No wonder she was grumpy. I learned through
annoyed looks and muffled complaints that she commuted
four hours, five days a week on AMTRAK. If that weren't
enough, she worked as an inner-city attorney. Surely, she
would have to admit that riding on a fast train is better than
driving in slow traffic.
Union Station in Los Angeles was a welcome sight.
Because we had mistakenly taken an earlier train, we had
more than ample time to acquaint ourselves with the
historical building that houses the train station. There was a
TV commercial being filmed there so we were not allowed to
wander through certain areas of the station. "People
watching" is often a coveted hobby of photographers and I
am no exception. I chatted with an Amish couple on a
buying trip for their store in Pennsylvania and with a couple
from London on a honeymoon "holiday." The last time I was
a train passenger at Union Station was when I was a child
and traveled solo between Salt Lake City, Utah and Los
Angeles. Obviously, I am a throwback from another
generation that was a safer, bygone era. Nevertheless it,
too, was a great adventure and another story to write.
Finally train number 14 arrived and the familiar "All Aboard"
beckoned us to enter a new dimension of life onboard what
seemed like a humongous "toy" train. Our steward, Donald,
showed us to our room and brought us some chilled,
refreshing cranberry juice. Boy did that hit the spot! We
explored our new home-for-the-day and settled in. As the
hours passed, the scenery became more breathtaking.
Ocean scenes with swooping birds and sunlight dancing on
the water were mesmerizing. For a few hours the
foreground went racing by and the background kept our eyes
at half-mast as we soaked in the tranquilizing effect of a
long-awaited day of rest, punctuated with inter-active
adventures. The Pacific Parlour Car and Sightseer Lounge
were favorites on our jostled walk through the train. We
enjoyed taking in the view from both sides of the train rather
than from the one sided views of our neat little "sleepette"
room. We chatted and nibbled cheese and crackers and
devoured yummy sandwiches for lunch and enjoyed a
sumptuous dinner. The train staff was helpful and pleasant.
Meal times meant being seated directly across the table, toe
to toe, with complete strangers. Some of those strangers
were very strange. All were interesting. We mingled with a
love-sick tanned laborer who gazed silently out the window,
a cynical school teacher, a Native American college student
and a friendly younger couple enjoying an "Alaska Airlines
Rewards" trip. In every case, we were the ones to extend
greetings and attempt to engage these "forced on friends" in
conversation. We always try to leave people happier than
we find them, if they will allow it. We met a camera shy
conductor that had to be tricked into being photographed.
How could such a handsome fellow be so fearful of the
camera?
Some train workers confided that this was one of the
roughest rides they had ever experienced. Truly, the image
stabilizer on my camera lens had trouble capturing still shots
on a moving target! It was rocking and rolling all the way,
not too unlike amusement park train rides meant to be
somewhat frightening. There were many furrowed eyebrows
as the train came to a stop at several unscheduled locations
for "track repairs" or to let another train pass by. After the
"repair" stops, we proceeded at "walking speed" for long
periods of time. Such occasions no doubt contributed to the
train being hours late arriving in Oakland.
Instead of a suitable arrival time, those unexpected stops
delayed our arrival at the Jack London Station in Oakland
until after midnight. The short walk apparent on the Internet
map stretched ahead of us like a spook show runway.
Gangs of guys hung around dark corners and talked noisily
outside a local tavern. Although we arrived on the same
side of the street as our hotel, we briskly walked over the
tracks and across to the other side of the dimly lit street to
avoid any confrontation as we passed through the maze of
semi-inebriated men. Walking with false confidence past
their domain, we returned to the right side of the street and
anxiously headed into the Jack London Inn. We were
grateful not to have to sleep on the street like a homeless
man we saw hunkered down for the night next to the Inn.
Our room was adequate with an inner-city view of an old
brick structure within "spittin" distance. We had to keep the
curtains closed to avoid feeling like we could be the subject
of conversation for the workers whose reflections could
bounce off our windows.
After some shut eye, we welcomed a new day and headed
to a nondescript room stocked with complimentary breakfast
selections. We reached for a crumpled newspaper that had
been left on a table, prayed over our breakfast flakes and
dived into what we felt may be our only sustenance for the
next few hours. After haggling over transportation issues,
we finally found a willing chauffeur to drive us to the most
beautiful spot in the area - the Oakland LDS Temple site.
The Temple is situated on a lush hill overlooking the entire
San Francisco Bay area. It has a breathtaking view. Kind
hostesses at the Visitor's Center invited us in and allowed us
to wander through the displays at our own pace. It was
fascinating to see the Family History display tracing the
ancestry of President Bush and other prominent people all
celebrating common kinship. Jesus Christ was the center of
the entire celebration of Christianity. A large replica of the
Christus dominated the lobby. The panoramic view through
every window was filled with color and beauty from the
surrounding hills and landscape. We felt peaceful and were
slow to have any desire to bid adieu to this magnificent
hilltop retreat. Gorgeous pink tulips were in full bloom and
were difficult to be matched by any other creations around.
Finally, a kindly elderly couple exiting the Mormon Temple
offered us a ride back to the Jack London Inn and we gladly
accepted. They were such pleasant and interesting people
as well as the vehicle by which we were able to save the $18
cab fare. We parted company after those few minutes
together as if we were long-time friends.
We spent the rest of the day on a walking tour through the
Jack London Square area and photographed it more
thoroughly than anyone would ever care to see. We asked
some passersby where we could find the most scrumptious
food in town and were directed to a "hole in the wall" eatery
a short distance into town. Passing portable people pushing
shopping carts full of prized possessions we began to feel
somewhat apprehensive about taking a stranger's advice.
There were several other choices with spectacular views of
the bay that were put on the back burner for this culinary
quest.
What a pleasant surprise we had when we located the
recommended cafe! We opened the door of La Furia
Chalaca and walked into a cultural time warp of pre-
Columbian artifacts combined with friendly Peruvian
purveyors of discriminating taste in both decor and cuisine.
A beautiful American woman and her Peruvian husband
warmly welcomed us and gave us a tour of the kitchen and
it's delightful, native chefs. The ambiance of the tiny dining
room lured you into tasting the native food whether or not
you had an affinity for foreign fare. It was delicious to
experience and truly tickled our taste buds. Unusual tastes
and smells invited lingering so as not to be deprived of all
that could be mustered from a morsel. I especially enjoyed
the "Papa Rellena."
From there, we headed back to the marina to do a little
California dreaming, dining and dating. We leaned over the
rails marking the edge of the water and watched the boats.
We witnessed the sun sliding gradually into the bay and our
glance followed the reflections of colors as they spilled into
the waterways and danced along the outlines of buoys and
boats. We walked on the boardwalk and took in the historic
contributions and documentation of the displays that
immortalize Jack London, a famous writer.
Tired and foot-weary we cuddled into our coats and headed
for Tony Roman's for a tummy-warming bowl of potato-
cheese-broccoli soup and some fresh, hot bread. It had
been a memorable day. We took those lovely thoughts back
to the Inn and prepared for an early train departure the next
morning.
Rising before dawn cracked, we rushed through our freebee
breakfast and hurried off through the rain to catch the Coast
Starlight back to LA. It was ultimately six hours late! Oh the
lazy morning we could have enjoyed instead of choking
down our stale donut and lukewarm milk! Instead, we were
stuck with our luggage, surrounded by storm clouds.
Refusing to let them rain on our parade, we stashed our bag
behind the counter at the station and took off to explore the
unturned stones of the neighboring block to the southeast.
The only place within walking distance that we had not
already perused was a plumbing showroom nearby. Were
we hard up for a tourist attraction, or what? Yes! We
browsed through a plumbing store and much to our delight
enjoyed a wide array of beautifully designed fixtures and
bathroom accessories. We decided to redo every bathroom
in our home until we began to have prices quoted to us. It
was definitely high-end, meticulously manufactured stuff with
the look of "out of our price range."
We moseyed back and forth to the train station several times
getting updates on the Coast Starlight's so-called schedule.
We missed our first-class meals because there was no train
there to eat them in. Finally, near starvation, we spied a
colorfully painted food place through the window of the
station and walked over for a closer look and possible taste.
My husband enjoyed his teriyaki plate but I opted to starve
until dinner. I was being optimistic about the train actually
coming down the track soon.
After Train Number 11 charged through the rain and glided
into view, we had further delays while a private car was
attached to the end of the train. It looked intriguing and we
wished for an opportunity to explore it. But the dark clouds
had gathered and the rain pressed down upon us as we
hurried to our appointed spot near the rails, and then
boarded the train with a new steward. We enjoyed a deluxe
room on the return trip. How grateful we were for that as our
delayed trip home necessitated all-night travel! Since the
storm seemed to conspire with the train's tardiness to steal
all hopes of lingering sunlight we had a small window of
opportunity to enjoy the homebound scenery. We missed
the favored coastal views entirely.
Not being wine-bibbers of even the least degree we opted to
skip the wine-tasting invitation on the northbound trip.
However, we determined that from a journalistic point of view
we should witness what the ritual was all about and "look but
not touch." The comedic presentation was entertaining and
we met a lovely couple from Idaho in the process. The
woman was Jewish and had been transplanted into a
Mormon community in the potato state. She had plenty of
fun stories to tell.
Looking through the windows into the black of night, the only
view we saw was our own reflections. Since that was the
best view available, we decided to call it a night. We settled
into our little cabin on wheels and were rocked to sleep by
the sway of the train.
Upon arriving at Union Station we thanked our steward and
said goodbye to a wonderful "choo choo" experience. The
station was abandoned and bore no resemblance to the
hustle and bustle we had been immersed in there two days
before. No trains were coming anytime soon so a bus was
waiting to take us on the last leg of our trip to the Fullerton
Station. The drowsy drive went quickly and we were soon
back to square one. No matter how fun the trip is, it's always
good to come home. Maybe some day we can get back on
track again and capture a new adventure in the world of rail
travel. Until then, we'll chug along and try and keep our
caboose moving forward. Hmm, I think we'll call the
grandkids and see if they want to come over and play trains.
Where's that old train whistle, Chuck. "Choo, choo,
"Al...........laboard."
Click below to view each set of photos:
Set #1 /
Set #2 /
Set #3 /
Set #4
Set #5 /
Set #6 /
Set #7 /
Set #8
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