A Trip to the Northeastern Seaboard
It was early spring in 1995, the leaves and soil began to turn into tufts of color all across the landscape. I was sitting in Old Apple Tree Park in Vancouver, Washington waiting for the next freight train headed east. I sat in the circle of friends and travelers saying my farewells. We lounged in an endless loop of memories dowsed with underground chemistry.
When just a few minutes past 2 p.m. the locomotive chugged by and the Iron Snake ground to a halt. I quickly finished my beer and smoked the rest of a bowl. I grabbed my house (backpack) and grabbed hold of the cool rungs of the ladder on the side of the grain car. I didn't bother with tents, copious amounts of clothing or supplies. I liked to live minimally and off the land like I had been trained to do by the old Vietnam Vets I hung out with. The grain car was one that the design allowed for just enough space to accommodate my gear and I. Huddled down motionless and patiently crotched poised for departure. It must have been over an hour I was frozen in position Then suddenly the brakes released and the hiss as power was applied to the hoses as the engines engaged.
I was off again east into the frontiers of Idaho and Montana. This took several days to accomplish. The ride took me through cities like Pasco, Spokane, Pocatello, and Missoula. In Missoula, I switched and headed south through Casper, Ogden, and Salt Lake City. It was still a little too cold to safely trek through the mountains of Northern Montana and Canada. I arrived in SLC about 8 to 12 days later. As time is relative without a clock or calendar. From there I caught freight through the gut, Omaha, Kansas City, St. Louis, Nashville, and on up all over the Northeastern seaboard. Before I knew it, just a few weeks later I was there and I had done it all alone. I did it.
Of course, when I arrive on the East Coast the trains don't travel in long strides. Short trip, change rides, repeat. The denser the cities the shorter the distance between transitions. It really was difficult one wrong move in Pittsburgh, one track too far to either side and I can wind up in Maine, Cinncinati, or Indianapolis. Far outside my travel plans for sure. I found these things out the hardest way possible, experience. The subways in New York City are jampacked with people and super dangerous. I found that it is the best way to get around the City.
I stayed out there on the East Coast for a couple of months but still longed for the thrill of catching out. It invaded my dreams costing me hours and hours of sleep. The feeling of exhilaration as the Steel Goliath's unrelenting grasp pulls me into the wind. The way the tracks lead to the most wonderful views and scenes I could only paint from memory when I was back home. So, the day after my 14th birthday, I hopped into an open boxcar headed back to the West Coast, my one-lifetime love, and where my journey commenced.