Mini Train Trip, Part 1

Most of the time my vacations are very well-planned, but what I pack for them has been rather spontaneous. Not this summer! As you'll note, one of The Rules of the trip is to live out of one bag for the month (and accordingly, another one calls for a packing list). Most of the advice I've seen about packing one bag for an indefinitely long period of time involves some advice on what sort of bag that should be- and I'm not exactly comfortable dropping $400 on luggage at the moment. Hence, I wanted to test whether or not we could *actually* fit everything on the list into a bag, carry it around, be comfy with it, and live out of it. That, and it was spring break- which is always a good reason for a vacation.

With these goals in mind, Dani and I set out for San Francisco last Thursday- via Amtrak, naturally. And so begins the actual "travel blogging" on this travel blog.

Packing went smoothly, though a bit obsessively (this is me we're talking about...). Truly, all the stuff does fit in our Target-bought duffel bags, and does so with relative ease. When full, my bag weighed just over 14lbs, and was easy to carry with the shoulder strap.

We boarded the dreaded Amtrak bus in downtown Riverside at 5 before 9, right on time, and Dani and I proceeded to sleep most of the way to Bakersfield. Everyone who I talk to about taking the train to NorCal cites shivers in horror at the thought of taking one of these buses, but they're really rather pleasant- clean interiors, reclining seats, and guaranteed connections. (Also, the armrest in the middle of the seats folds down in order to facilitate cuddling!) The train is more comfy, to be sure, but the buses aren't torture devices. We arrived in Bakersfield over an hour early, but not before we caught some very pretty scenes on I-5 in Tejon Pass.

(There were prettier moments than this, but Dani was asleep for them- and she had the camera.)

While waiting at the station, we noticed that a woman who had been on the bus with us (and had either gotten on at Riverside or somewhere east) had removed her coat- to reveal a black sweater reading "PRAY TO END ABORTION" on the back. She would ride with us all the way to San Francisco- straight into the lion's den, I suppose. (We didn't get a photo.)

This is our train, which hauled us up to Emeryville. Note the P42 leading the consist- Amtrak has had some difficulties with a lot of their western trains this winter, which has led to them moving their locomotives all over the place. Normally, the San Joaquins are pulled by California-owned EMD F59PHI's- but this winter, those have been seen as far away as Chicago. I stepped out at Fresno and took this picture, just as the rain started to fall on us. It rained hard and heavy from Fresno until just past Antioch, but the train pressed on at the usual 79M/h- making me glad I wasn't driving. (In fact, at Antioch I relaxed in my seat with a cold Sierra Nevada pale ale- really something you shouldn't do in a car.)

The Delta is a haven for birds, and huge flocks of them congregate in the marshes and fields nearby. As the train goes by, these flocks will often take to wing in one great, flashy motion. The effect is difficult to describe, and we didn't manage to take any photos- but do yourself a favour and ride the San Joaquins between the Bay Area and Stockton and watch. (Don't do it within a week of watching Hitchcock's The Birds, though.)


The train brought us to Emeryville, where we found a bus waiting to whisk us into The City. A quick ride over the Bay Bridge and we were standing on the Embarcadero (along with PRAY TO END ABORTION Lady). Dani took this photo of the Bay Bridge over the small ferry building Amtrak office (I can't call it a station, there are no trains):



We boarded a Muni bus (the 5-Fulton, for the curious) and went and checked in to our hotel, the Casa Loma Hotel. The hotel is "European-style", which means tiny rooms and no en-suite bathrooms. This must have tickled Dani's funny bone, because she could not stop giggling about the accommodations. It was clean, comfortable, and quiet- and, best of all, cheap- but it took some time to get her to stop laughing.


When she did stop, we went down the street foraging for food. The hotel was situated just two blocks north of Haight St. (at Filmore, for the curious), and the Lower Haight has a veritable panoply of tasty food and trendy shops. We were substantially interested in the former. That night, my uncharacteristically spontaneous wife and I wandered into a place called The Little Chihuahua. We found it using the classical method of finding tasty places to eat- look for the ones full of locals- and it did not disappoint. Seating was scarce, salsa was plentiful, and I'm not sure I've ever seen so much meat and pico de gallo on a single taco. (It came with two tortillas, so I actually split it in half- and each of those were still huge tacos!) We did have to endure the dramatic conversation of two ladies next to us, discussing why one should not be in a relationship with her current significant other- but the food was worth it. (Also, all-organic and sustainable and stuffs- gotta love S.F.) After dinner, we made our way back to the hotel and enjoyed a well-deserved rest.