One Fish Two Fish Whitefish Bluefish

One hundred on; one hundred off. Whitefish Montana is the busiest stop between Seattle and Chicago. The western and most popular gateway to Glacier National Park. Only two parks are more isolated than this cross-border preserve and they are above and below the ocean. In the southeast is Key Largo National Park the only all underwater park in the system. In the southwest are the Channel Islands off-shore of Santa Barbara.

Whitefish is also a way station for the Burlington Northern Santa Fe railroad that runs the Empire Builder for Amtrak. Four deadheaders join us for the road down out of the hills. They are BNSF employees going home. Whitefish survives on tourism, logging, and freight. The town expands from a base of 9000 to double that in the winter and triple that in the summer (or the other way around).

These facts were relayed by a newly minted college graduate going back to Minneapolis after visiting family in Whitefish. His father had long been a long haul train driver and now is a reserve engineer. He drives a single locomotive up and down the line adding an extra push for overloaded freight trains that otherwise would not make it over the mountain passes. He is also on-call for the rare but deadly runaway train. You can’t stop them but someone has to be around to pull away the cars left on the rails.

This young man is unsure what he will do with his marketing degree yet. Luckily he is pulling down good money as a waiter in a swank Minneapolis area restaurant. Real estate? Manufacturing rep? Like a growing number of young people, he did what was expected of him to a point and then stopped for a moment to catch his breath rather than barreling headlong into a career.

Less than an hour later, guitar music drifts in from the vestibule in the center of the car. There he was sitting on the yellow embarkation stool playing and singing as if in a trance totally oblivious. He was good. Real good. Playing Americana, folk, blues, and possibly a tune in the set that he wrote himself. He was that good. During the entire hour of our shared breakfast in the dining car, he never mentioned he is a musician or that music was a possible vocation. I learned nothing more since I did not want to disturb him. I just listened.

The Cascades versus Mt. Shasta

The Cascade Range is dramatic mostly from afar. The overcast makes Mt Rainer on the east and the Olympics on the west invisible. No drama today. I start a discussion of the Olympic Peninsula. The Cascades are young volcanos fed by melting of one continental plate being pushed down under another. Most people assume the Olympics are also volcanic. They are actually upthrust seabed formed by another effect of plate tectonics. The terrain is also some of the most unusual in North America.

There is a valley on the northwest side facing the Pacific leading to the only temperate (non-equatorial) rainforest in North America. The ferns and toadstools and alien looking underbrush are strange enough. When you turn your eyes up hill through a break in the canopy you are utterly stunned. There is a glacier at the head of the valley. How many places in the world can you hike from a rainforest to a glacier and back in a day?

Another marvel exists near the Pacific entrance to this valley. Boulders the size of houses are strewn all over the tidewater and salt & pepper pebbled beach. The view is all the more surreal since most of the giant rocks are exposed as if they were just deposited there by some recent upheaval.

The Olympics by car or foot offer many accessible and immediate vistas. The Cascades from the train are another matter. The closer you get, the more the view pancakes to extremely close in sights. You will see babbling brooks, cliffs, forrest walls, and glances at the mountain reservoir you are cruising beside. Undeniably beautiful on a compressed close in scale.

The 2+ hour visibility of Mt. Shasta and the surrounding chaotic terrain is arguably a much more arresting and unforgettable sight. The timing is perfect on the northbound Coast Starlight in the summer.

Preparing and Packing Pillows Instead of Posting

Okay, so I barely stayed in real time on Day one and began falling behind on Day two. I quess I could have uploaded some posts during the morning of Day three in the Bellevue Courtyard but I decided to wash clothes, eat a leisurely stationary breakfast, and sleep. The hotel layovers are about getting some sleep and my land legs back.

My bus trip back from Bellevue gave me a chance to try out the GPS receivers again. I cannot abide a mystery. After restarting the phone and initializing all the software, I did one thing different. I waited. The devices normally lock into sufficient satellites for tracking after 30 second to a minute. The previous day I gave up after about 90 seconds. The behavior was odd. Rather than “seeking satellites” it said “active (0). So I waited. After more than 3 minutes, the minimum three satellites locked in with around 8 being available a few minutes later. This is how I found that Seattle’s legendary overcast was not GPS friendly. I can handled the cool damp grey but this … How can the abundance of local tech guys function her?

Which reminds me: When I got on the bus, the rather good looking female bus driver asks: “Are you running away from home”? While feeding two dollar bills into the machine, I tell her about Clockwise Around America then tell her I need to reach deep in my too tight pants pocket for a couple of quarters. She says: “I’m impressed. You even know the bus fare.” See, planning does pay.

Imagine that. Two friendly bus drivers in as many days.

Arriving at King Station three hours early allowed me time to fire up the laptop and complete work on day 2. My how time flies while you are having fun. No seriously. I sat in the pole position next to door 1 for 3 hours on a tear! The words just flowed into my MacBook while carrying on numerous side conversations with the growing line of passengers.

Maybe I can do this. When the open the door releasing the thundering herd, that on average is 8% greater than this time last year, I was number three for bordering. Number one and two were a nice enough older couple we would have granted first passage to anyway if they had only asked. My experience on the Coast Starlight allowed me to zero in on my (Chicago bound) coach and be first in my lower level compartment, again. Waiting for me is seat number 77 with the single 120 volt outlet behind, a broad window beside, and long extension tray in front that works no matter what the passenger in front of my does. The seats behind incline into the wall. The seats in front have no tray with eight feet of floor I have no use for. All the seats on the left of the car are powerless. No seat 77LL is mine.

Now I should have time to upload the rest of day two while still in the station. Me and Karen, my white haired Chicago-bound traveling companion are alone as the time of departure approaches. Unfortunately, our coach attendant was given a “cold” car not prepared for its journey. She was way behind. So much to do including stuffing more than 80 pillows into their sanitary cases. Imagine how surprised we both were when I volunteered to help. She made one attempt to protest and then disappeared to do her other (undisclosed) duties. I did all fifty that were arrayed around me knowing this was not enough for all the passengers but glad to be done. She saunters back in to tell me there is another back she had not opened for me yet. Probably so I would not see the full magnitude of the task. Happy to be of service mam!

Net result. By the time I finished her job we were out of data range in the Cascades.

Okay, so I barely stayed in real time on Day one and began falling behind on Day two. I quess I could have uploaded some posts during the morning of Day three in the Bellevue Courtyard but I decided to wash clothes, eat a leisurely stationary breakfast, and sleep. The hotel layovers are about getting some sleep and my land legs back.

My bus trip back from Bellevue gave me a chance to try out the GPS receivers again. I cannot abide a mystery. After restarting the phone and initializing all the software, I did one thing different. I waited. The devices normally lock into sufficient satellites for tracking after 30 second to a minute. The previous day I gave up after about 90 seconds. The behavior was odd. Rather than “seeking satellites” it said “active (0). So I waited. After more than 3 minutes, the minimum three satellites locked in with around 8 being available a few minutes later. This is how I found that Seattle’s legendary overcast was not GPS friendly. I can handled the cool damp grey but this … How can the abundance of local tech guys function her?

Which reminds me: When I got on the bus, the rather good looking female bus driver asks: “Are you running away from home”? While feeding two dollar bills into the machine, I tell her about Clockwise Around America then tell her I need to reach deep in my too tight pants pocket for a couple of quarters. She says: “I’m impressed. You even know the bus fare.” See, planning does pay.

Imagine that. Two friendly bus drivers in as many days.

Arriving at King Station three hours early allowed me time to fire up the laptop and complete work on day 2. My how time flies while you are having fun. No seriously. I sat in the pole position next to door 1 for 3 hours on a tear! The words just flowed into my MacBook while carrying on numerous side conversations with the growing line of passengers.

Maybe I can do this. When the open the door releasing the thundering herd, that on average is 8% greater than this time last year, I was number three for bordering. Number one and two were a nice enough older couple we would have granted first passage to anyway if they had only asked. My experience on the Coast Starlight allowed me to zero in on my (Chicago bound) coach and be first in my lower level compartment, again. Waiting for me is seat number 77 with the single 120 volt outlet behind, a broad window beside, and long extension tray in front that works no matter what the passenger in front of my does. The seats behind incline into the wall. The seats in front have no tray with eight feet of floor I have no use for. All the seats on the left of the car are powerless. No seat 77LL is mine.

Now I should have time to upload the rest of day two while still in the station. Me and Karen, my white haired Chicago-bound traveling companion are alone as the time of departure approaches. Unfortunately, our coach attendant was given a “cold” car not prepared for its journey. She was way behind. So much to do including stuffing more than 80 pillows into their sanitary cases. Imagine how surprised we both were when I volunteered to help. She made one attempt to protest and then disappeared to do her other (undisclosed) duties. I did all fifty that were arrayed around me knowing this was not enough for all the passengers but glad to be done. She saunters back in to tell me there is another back she had not opened for me yet. Probably so I would not see the full magnitude of the task. Happy to be of service mam!

Net result. By the time I finished her job we were out of data range in the Cascades.

Okay, so I barely stayed in real time on Day one and began falling behind on Day two. I quess I could have uploaded some posts during the morning of Day three in the Bellevue Courtyard but I decided to wash clothes, eat a leisurely stationary breakfast, and sleep. The hotel layovers are about getting some sleep and my land legs back.

My bus trip back from Bellevue gave me a chance to try out the GPS receivers again. I cannot abide a mystery. After restarting the phone and initializing all the software, I did one thing different. I waited. The devices normally lock into sufficient satellites for tracking after 30 second to a minute. The previous day I gave up after about 90 seconds. The behavior was odd. Rather than “seeking satellites” it said “active (0). So I waited. After more than 3 minutes, the minimum three satellites locked in with around 8 being available a few minutes later. This is how I found that Seattle’s legendary overcast was not GPS friendly. I can handled the cool damp grey but this … How can the abundance of local tech guys function her?

Which reminds me: When I got on the bus, the rather good looking female bus driver asks: “Are you running away from home”? While feeding two dollar bills into the machine, I tell her about Clockwise Around America then tell her I need to reach deep in my too tight pants pocket for a couple of quarters. She says: “I’m impressed. You even know the bus fare.” See, planning does pay.

Imagine that. Two friendly bus drivers in as many days.

Arriving at King Station three hours early allowed me time to fire up the laptop and complete work on day 2. My how time flies while you are having fun. No seriously. I sat in the pole position next to door 1 for 3 hours on a tear! The words just flowed into my MacBook while carrying on numerous side conversations with the growing line of passengers.

Maybe I can do this. When the open the door releasing the thundering herd, that on average is 8% greater than this time last year, I was number three for bordering. Number one and two were a nice enough older couple we would have granted first passage to anyway if they had only asked. My experience on the Coast Starlight allowed me to zero in on my (Chicago bound) coach and be first in my lower level compartment, again. Waiting for me is seat number 77 with the single 120 volt outlet behind, a broad window beside, and long extension tray in front that works no matter what the passenger in front of my does. The seats behind incline into the wall. The seats in front have no tray with eight feet of floor I have no use for. All the seats on the left of the car are powerless. No seat 77LL is mine.

Now I should have time to upload the rest of day two while still in the station. Me and Karen, my white haired Chicago-bound traveling companion are alone as the time of departure approaches. Unfortunately, our coach attendant was given a “cold” car not prepared for its journey. She was way behind. So much to do including stuffing more than 80 pillows into their sanitary cases. Imagine how surprised we both were when I volunteered to help. She made one attempt to protest and then disappeared to do her other (undisclosed) duties. I did all fifty that were arrayed around me knowing this was not enough for all the passengers but glad to be done. She saunters back in to tell me there is another back she had not opened for me yet. Probably so I would not see the full magnitude of the task. Happy to be of service mam!

Net result. By the time I finished her job we were out of data range in the Cascades.