An all-day excursion on Amtrak for mother and her son
An all-day ride from Lynchburg to Boston was a daunting idea for this mommy and her young son. But the low-key, accommodating system made the adventure fun. Here’s how they did it.
Sunday, July 21, 2013
On a beautiful, clear March morning, I took a new bold step in motherhood: traveling alone with my little boy — for the next 15 hours.
It would also be a bold new step for me as a traveler. I had neither taken the Smart Way Connector bus from Roanoke nor the Amtrak train from Lynchburg. The fact that I could commute from downtown Roanoke to Boston’s South Station (my final destination) seemed incredible.
I would feel like quite the accomplished mom if I could get myself, my 4 1⁄2-year-old and our assorted bags up to Boston to see my family without losing any pieces (or my mind).
So on March 30, the first Saturday of spring break, Evan and I took the 8 a.m. bus out of the downtown Roanoke station. We got some pastries to go from Bread Craft for the ride, and Evan grabbed the first-row seats.
It was all very novel, until 8:22, when we crossed the Bedford County line. “I want to go home,” Evan said .
Fortunately it was a soon-forgotten statement, b ut that sliver of despair I felt lasted a bit longer. How could it not be scary to have to be caregiver, disciplinarian, conversationalist and entertainer in a confined space for that much time?
But thanks to the casual, comfortable yet tightly run Amtrak system (and mobile devices, 3G service, Legos and a liberal use of train conductors as the people you don’t want to mess with), we survived — and had fun.
Looking back at our trip photos, I decided it was best reviewed as postcards from the train.
The ride
The bus arrived about 20 minutes before the train was scheduled to leave. I marveled at the crowd waiting for the train to pull in.
According to an April Associated Press story, Amtrak ridership increased in the first six months of fiscal year 2013, with ridership in March setting a record as the single best month ever in Amtrak’s history, the railroad said.
Ridership grew 0.9 percent from October 2012 to March compared to the prior year despite disruptions from weather including Superstorm Sandy. Amtrak said 26 of 45 routes had rider increases.
Once I got on the train, I could see why.
There are no middle seats in a train car — it’s like we’re all traveling first (or at least business) class! Each pair of seats lining the aisle has plenty of leg room.
All your luggage comes with you, so I stashed the large bag that would’ve cost me $25 to check on an airplane in a luggage hold at the end of our car.
Within minutes of us getting on the train, whether we were seated or not, it started rolling.
First thing Evan does is drop the tray table and ask for the iPad. It’s 10 a.m. With 13 hours ahead of us, I worry about burning up the novelty too early, but what’s vacation for? It made me appreciate the intersection of modern technology and a centuries-old way of travel.
Then, a small snafu. Amtrak does offer free Wifi, but it’s pretty limited. Don’t expect to stream any videos. So this first-timer learned to turn her iPhone into a hotspot, which worked pretty well most of the way.
Around 11 a.m., we decided to check out the Cafe Car.
The Cafe Car menu is fairly limited and unspectacular. Our prepackaged hot dog was heated in a microwave. For the legal, there is liquor, beer and wine (so it could also be a Cafe Bar or Bar Car, and indeed on the way back we talked to a man who was finishing his second beer and on his way to Philadelphia to surprise his grandson for his birthday). With its tables and benches, the Cafe Car seems to be popular with commuters who want to set up small workstations during the ride.
Back at our seats, Evan starts his own describe-that-cloud game.
“That’s a monster eating a mermaid! Is that a falcon? Oh it disappeared.”
It was the only time he played that game, and it lasted only 10 minutes, but I loved it. Train and blue skies required, but no iPad needed.
The sights
There’s something wonderful about watching the cities pass by your train window.
Catching glimpses of the monuments in our nation’s capital is like playing a peekaboo game, and the New York skyline is unbeatable.
But two things struck me — the miles of graffiti facing the tracks and this motto: “Trenton makes, the world takes.”
The words are hung from an iron bridge over the Delaware River. According to a 2006 NPR story, the New Jersey city’s slogan was chosen as a contest winner in 1910 and is actually inverted. The original was: “The World Takes, Trenton Makes.’” The writer was a local civic and business leader named S. Roy Heath.
The NPR reporter, Robert Siegel, interviewed Heath’s daughter, Dartha Heath, who was 92 at the time and still lived in Trenton. She said the slogan referred to all the exports coming out of the state capital. She died in February 2012.
More than a century later, this Amtrak rider was struck by the slogan’s attitude. I certainly know something about Trenton now that I did not before.
As for the graffiti — while I certainly don’t condone vandalism, it was impressive to think that on some dark night or early morning hour, someone ventured out to these empty buildings or climbed down to the tracks so they could spray paint the walls or sides of tunnels. They seem to be there solely for the eyes of passing train passengers ... a transient yet large audience.
Unfortunately, while I love New York, parting with it was a bit traumatic.
New York’s Penn Station, where we transferred, serves as the hub for lots of trains, so it’s already frenetic. But because the track numbers don’t post until about 10 minutes before the train leaves, there was no room for error once the train arrived. Either we were on board or not.
As Evan and I stood by our bags waiting with other passengers for our track number to show up on a screen (it felt like playing Bingo), I suddenly missed the airport, and attendants calling out names of passengers who had not yet boarded.
Going home
The trip home started earlier — the train left South Station at 6:55 a.m. Our entire return trip would be during daylight.
We transferred at Wash ington, D.C.’s Union Station, which was a wholly better experience than the transfer we made at Penn Station.
Union Station is calmer and nicer. It has fancy shops and a great food court. The track numbers posted well before the trains departed — finally, a sense of security.
Once aboard our last train, we scored my favorite seats. At the end of each car is a pair of seats that face a wide open space meant for luggage. It gave us room to really stretch without worrying about annoying the people in front of us.
When Evan did start getting antsy, I’d pull out the most formidable weapon in my arsenal — the conductor.
Whenever my command wasn’t good enough, I’d add that the conductor didn’t like whatever he was doing either — like walking around without his shoes. This worked incredibly well, because the conductors were always walking through the cars. But he learned they’re not all scary — right before we arrived in Boston on the trip up, one conductor gave him a paper conductor hat. They are powerful people indeed.
Watching the landscape change from city to country was a nice way to return. It’s something that you miss in air travel and is not as pronounced by car. When buildings and graffiti give way to rolling hills, cemeteries and farm houses, you know you’re getting somewhere.
Even when you’re a 4 1⁄2-year-old.
As we passed Culpeper and rolled toward Lynchburg, the landscape grew more rural. At one point, just before 7 p.m., Evan pointed to a brushy brown mountain and said, “Look! Home!”
About 40 minutes later, we pulled into our final destination.
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THE ROANOKE TIMES
