Trip Report: September 22 to October 19, 2003
by Ted & Sylvia Blishak
Fall Colors Coast to Coast - by Land and Sea
THE CRESCENT
October 9, 2003. New York to Greenville, SC
On Amtrak the Accessible Bedroom is kept open for booking by the handicapped until a week before train departure time. Then, if it has not been sold to a qualified handicapped passenger, anyone may book the room, and we did. A big plus is its spaciousness and ease of use, especially handy for our portable office with its two laptops and portable printer. The disadvantage is that it is at the end of the Viewliner sleeper and therefore prone to more wheel noise and rough riding. Ventilation is sometimes a problem, too. Although the area of the room is larger than that of the Deluxe Viewliner rooms, it has no more cooling capacity designed into it, and tends to run warm when air conditioning is required. At least, this is the opinion of our car attendant. As we roll down the Northeast Corridor at speeds up to 110 mph, our room reaches temperatures of up to 80 F, five degrees warmer than the adjacent Deluxe Rooms. The car is sold out, there is no place to move to, so we get out our Wal-Mart fan again. Sylvia has brought along a miniature spray bottle, and we take turns misting water at each other to keep even cooler. Wouldn't it be nice if we humans had a wider comfort zone? It seems that the two of us fall into slump when it gets much past 70 degrees, and this is a nuisance.
Our sleeping car attendant is giving us lots of excuses for this unwanted warmth, including the probably accurate one about deferred maintenance, but does agree to call in a mechanic upon arrival in Washington, DC. Here a mechanic twists dials and throws switches, telling us in very, very, broken English, that the A/C is now running properly. As we leave Washington, the temperature gradually drifts down to 76 F., which it holds most of the night.
We have dinner and retire early, as our scheduled arrival into Greenville, South Carolina, is 539am. We request a wake-up call at 5am, and are greeted the next morning with coffee and juice. To our surprise, the Crescent arrives into Greenville two minutes ahead of schedule. Our son, Mark, is not at the station yet. When we phone our daughter-in-law, Lonnie, she exclaims in mock surprise, "Oh, is it today?" We love her and her sense of humor, which she can muster even at 540am. Mark arrives a few minutes later.
CAROLINA WILDERNESS
Friday, Saturday, Sunday, October 10-12, 2003
On Sunday in Greenville, we all load up into the family mini-van and head for the hills, the southern Appalachian Mountains. Our destination is Chimney Rock; our goal, hiking and picnicking. As I glance at the brochure photo, my Southern Oregon mindset visualizes a state or county park with a few picnic tables and trails, set amidst the wilderness of the Blue Ridge, seventy miles from Mark and Lonnie's home in the Greenville area.
We arrive at the park entrance and drive up a lovely winding drive until we reach a toll plaza with four ticket booths. This turns out to be a privately owned park (as many in the vicinity are) and the entrance fee for our family of six is $58.00, including the children's discounts and our senior discount. We ask if there are parking spaces available up on the highest level, as those parking down below must wait for a retired school bus to ferry them to the trailheads. Hearing a "yes," Grandpa Ted happily puts the tab on his American Express, and drive past lots with hundreds of cars.
Chimney Rock itself is a daunting granite column three hundred feet high, with Old Glory waving at the top. We find a picnic table right at the base, and are entertained by a musician playing a cymbalon.
There is a choice of three climbing routes, or, for the less daring, an elevator built into the rocky cliff. The grandkids are eagerly wanting to climb up the twisting stairway called the Needle, a slippery, claustrophobic, slot in the granite. This is a true adventure, and soon we are all into it until we reach the summit.
I ask Garrett, age eight, if he's having fun. "Yes," he replies, "although I'd rather be at the skateboard park with my friends."
From here there are trails to the top and bottom of a 400 foot high waterfall. We observe two adults slipping and falling on the wet, rocky, trail. This is not something to be taken lightly. Granddaughter Kaelyn, age five, takes a tumble on a slippery rock, but jumps up shouting, "I'm all right".
Garrett, now enthusiastic, volunteers, "If I'd known it was going to be this much fun, I wouldn't have objected to coming!"
At the end of the day, the kids are tired and breathless with the excitement of the great outdoors. We could easily spend a day there, getting an early start when it isn't crowded, exploring the various trails, stairways, and caves. Perhaps on our next visit.
AMTRAK'S CRESCENT TO THE CRESCENT CITY
Monday, October 13, 2003
ADDING TO OUR MILEAGE MAP. Our visit over all too soon, we set our alarm for 4am Monday morning, at which time we call Amtrak. Good news -- Train 19 is an hour and a half behind schedule, we can go back to sleep. Arriving at the station at 6am, we check all of our excess bags, some laundry to Klamath Falls, and the rest of our bags to New Orleans. We have been carrying only our two portable offices plus our backpacks. This makes our travel much easier, and means less of a problem on board finding room to stow luggage. The Viewliner sleepers have lots of shelf space, but it is over six and a half feet high, the space located over the restroom and over the adjacent hallways.
Waiting for No. 19, we watch a Norfolk Southern locomotive switch a set of three flatcars, each with six axles, each carrying two Abrams battle tanks. They look pretty mean and scary, and remind us of similar sights during World War II and the Korean conflict.
We have Deluxe Room A for our day trip to New Orleans, as we need office space to set up our laptops. As we depart Greenville at 730am, we go immediately to the dining car for breakfast. We are directed to a table where two men are already seated across from each other. One man, wearing an intimidating black head kerchief, orders two complete breakfasts for himself, then asks for a military discount. The waitress advises that Amtrak has no military discount on meals, only on tickets. The gentleman across from him asks him in a friendly way what branch of the service he is serving in, receiving, after a lengthy pause, the sullen reply, "Air Force," as he places his wet tea bag on the white tablecloth, leaving a stain. Observing his two-week stubble of beard, we view his reply with skepticism.
A moment later, airman black kerchief shouts at the attendant, "I want to sit at another table, this man across from me is crazy!"
The attendant admonishes him, moves him to another table, and apologizes to us for the rude and inexcusable behavior. Not wanting to make any waves, I decide not to request my special breakfast of eggs, bacon, and pancakes, but order French toast and sausage patties instead.
Greenville to New Orleans is nearly 700 miles and we will be taking all three meals in the diner today. At lunch we are seated with two men who are employed by Delta Airlines and enjoying a train trip from Atlanta to the Crescent City, preferring Amtrak to free employee passes on Delta. We tell them of our meeting one of their top execs in New York. They share with us several horror stories about flying on Delta. I won't repeat them here, those who still fly have probably heard them all.
Both men order the corn beef and cheese sandwich, but only one sandwich arrives with cheese. When he lets the attendant know this, she asks, "Did you want cheese?", to which he explains that the menu describes it as a meat and cheese sandwich. "Did you ask for the cheese?" she demands.
"I didn't think I had to ask for it, since the menu says it is included." "Well, let me see that menu. Hey, cheese is only included if you ask for it!"
"No, you are looking at the hamburger, I ordered the corn beef and cheese."
"Do you want cheese?"
"Yes, I want cheese, that's why I am asking for it."
"What kind of cheese do you want?"
"Whatever kind is supposed to be included in the sandwich." She walks away and returns with one half slice of cheese on a saucer.
"I guess I should have explained that I wanted cheese for both halves of the sandwich," says our tablemate dejectedly after the waitress walks away. "I give up!"
This is all new mileage for us, Greenville to New Orleans. We skirt the southern reaches of the Appalachian Mountains in South Carolina and Georgia, pass the Atlanta skyline, speed across the cotton belt of Alabama and Mississippi, stopping at the beautiful Meridian Union Station, (which once expected to serve the splitting of the Crescent into the New Orleans and the Dallas segments), then in Louisiana cross the Lake Pontchartrain trestle into New Orleans, where a backup move gets us into New Orleans Union Terminal .
TRAVEL TIP: KEEP YOUR SHIRT ON. "Please wear your shoes at all times when moving about the train. You will not be served in the dining room if you're not wearing a shirt or shoes." This is a new announcement we are to hear on Amtrak for the rest of the trip. One would assume that common courtesy, if not common sense, might make this warning unnecessary, but there must be a reason that this announcement is required.
Our sleeping car attendant is one of the best we've ever had. He explains how the taxi system works in New Orleans (a $10 flat rate for most rides downtown and the French Quarter) and gives us some tips on places to visit. Unfailingly cheerful, he calls Sylvia "darlin'" and we later learn that this is a New Orleans term. Sylvia finds this charming somehow the northern counterpart, "honey", always grates upon one's ear if uttered by a stranger.
The New Orleans red cap drives us and our onboard luggage into the station, where we wait while he retrieves and distributes the baggage car luggage to the waiting passengers. I retrieve my two checked bags, then he drives us to the taxi line. It is a short ride to the Wyndham New Orleans at Canal Place, but the fare is the $10.00 minimum. There must be a strong taxi lobby in New Orleans, which according to a resident we met onboard, has resisted the construction of a rail link to the airport for years, even though the former Kansas City Southern tracks are already in place.
The Wyndham was formerly the Westin New Orleans, and is located strategically on the Mississippi River at Canal Place, a shopping mall right at the edge of the French Quarter. Guests can walk to the Quarter either on the Riverwalk or on Decatur Street, or can take a red trolley line that runs along the river's edge. From our 16th floor window we can observe the heavy river traffic on the curve of the Mississippi; seagoing tankers and container ships, Canal Street ferries, towboats pushing barges, cruise ships, and the paddlewheel steamboat "Natchez", which begins it's sightseeing cruises to the music of a steam calliope.
It is late, we never did make up any time, and by the time we check in it is 11pm. We sleep thinking of the adventures ahead on this, our first visit to the Crescent City.
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