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First I wrote about my recent train ride on the Southwest Chief, Los Angeles to Chicago in 43 scenic, surprising hours.
Then came the train stories from readers and friends on social media. Stories involving a sitar, a surfboard, several root beer floats and a bride-to-be. Another one features Ray Bradbury as a guest star.
Could this be proof that train trips are special, that they resonate more deeply in our bones than other journeys do?
Maybe. Or maybe this just shows how thirsty we are for a chance to turn away from current events for a moment.
I’m guessing it’s both. We gathered more than a dozen of these train stories, with some light editing. Whether you’re settled into an armchair or considering your own journey on Amtrak, Canada’s VIA Rail or the ritzy Rocky Mountaineer, here are some of our favorites.
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The sitar in the club car
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”Summer 1978. I took Amtrak from Oakland to Boston and back. Took the D & RGW [Denver and Rio Grande Western] railroad from Ogden to Denver — the most magnificent leg of the journey, through the red-rock canyon country of Utah, into the verdant mountain meadows of Colorado, disappearing into the long tunnel under the Rockies, opening out to spectacular Boulder Canyon.
Those were the days of train travel before uptightness about safety and liability. I went between cars, opened the dutch doors, hung my head outside to enjoy the breeze, listened to the clickety-clack, and smoked a joint and watched the world go by.
From Boston headed home, I met up in the club car with members of a rock band, a secretary, a Peace Corps guy just back from India, and a retired dentist, and we partied night and day, telling stories and laughing our asses off. The Peace Corps guy had a sitar, and would play morning, noon and evening ragas as America rolled by outside. … It was bliss! When thoroughly exhausted, I rolled out my sleeping bag under a table and seats in the club car to sleep. I don’t think I spent any time in my assigned seat for the whole trip.
When I got to Oakland, my girlfriend picked me up, and was boggled that I could not stop laughing for days.”
— Jim Burklo, Ojai
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When the author steps up as you’re reading his book
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“One time in the 1970s, when I went to college at San Francisco State University, my father, Aaron — who rode the rails out of necessity in the Great Depression and frequently traveled from coast to coast as a paying customer in later years — took the train from Los Angeles to visit me. He was sitting next to a teenage boy who was reading a book by Ray Bradbury.
To my father’s great surprise, Ray Bradbury walked up the aisle and saw that the boy was reading one of his books. Bradbury was delighted and stopped to talk. The three of them had such a great conversation that Bradbury invited my father and the boy to lunch on the train. My father enjoyed this chance encounter so much that it was one of his favorite memories and it became a story he loved to tell.”
— Irene Lechowitzky, San Diego
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A global train song
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“My best memory so far was sharing wine and singing “City of New Orleans” with three strangers — two German tourists and a fellow American — in the cafe car while riding Amtrak’s City of New Orleans train northward from New Orleans in 2023. The Germans knew more of the lyrics than I did. It was a meta moment. Music truly is the universal language.”
— Jane Engle, Los Angeles
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At the window with grandsons
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“Just for fun, I took a round-trip ride with grandsons from Oceanside to San Diego on Amtrak’s Pacific Surfliner. We cruised across lagoons, paced freeway traffic going faster than us and rolled along ocean bluffs that give the train its name.”
— Don Bartletti, Vista. Bartletti served as a Pulitzer Prize-winning Los Angeles Times photographer from 1984 to 2015 and shared the photo by Jay Bartletti above.
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After Arizona glory, a pause in Kansas
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“One December, I took a solo trip on the Southwest Chief from LAX to Chicago. Winter scenes along the way included waking up at dawn to the glory of Arizona red rocks inches from my window. On the return trip, the train was delayed in dreary sleet in Dodge City, Kansas. Rumor has it there was a cow on the rails. It was a thrill to finally feel the gentle forward jolt of the cars and to get the hell out of Dodge.”
— Lisa Moske, Torrance
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Tag, root beer floats and trouble in Albuquerque
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“When I was 8, my mom and I rode the Santa Fe Super Chief from Union Station in L.A. to Chicago and then changed trains and rode to Toronto, Canada. I remember being afraid to board the train; it was so huge and scary at first. Mom settled in to her recliner seat and I met many kids in the viewing car. These kids would be my best friends for the next four days. We ate BBQ chips and drank root beer floats in the dining car, and played tag throughout the train, much to the disapproval of the conductor.
At our first stop in Albuquerque, my mom wanted to disembark and buy souvenirs. I was afraid to leave the train and thought it would leave without us. I had some kind of meltdown and refused to get off the train. Mom had to stay on the train with me. She never got a silver necklace and I wish I could go back now and buy souvenirs with her. Miss you, mom.”
— Carol Templeton, Los Angeles
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A forbidden surfboard on a Mexican train
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“Manzanillo, Mexico, 1978. Train to Mexicali. An American surfer managed to drag his surfboard onto the train, even though it wasn’t allowed. He hid it in the bathroom for a while, but the conductor was bound and determined to find it and throw the surfer off the train. The board ended up outside the windows, with three passengers secretly grabbing onto it through the windows. I got off the train before Mexicali, but I like to think he made it to the border.”
— Mark Orwoll, formerly of La Mirada, now of Pleasantville, N.Y.
Note: The Mexicali-Guadalajara train, which stopped at dozens of cities, including Manzanillo, on its roughly 1,300-mile route, ceased operation in the 1990s. Here, from The Times archives, is another tale from that route.
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On the way to St. Tropez
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“My most insanely romantic trip. I was 25, in Paris by myself and decided to take the high-speed train to St. Tropez. Just to see it. I bought a ticket but found myself on the wrong train, and about to be thrown off by an angry agent, when I was rescued by a young man heading home to Grasse to visit his parents. He told the conductor (in French, of which I did not have the foggiest) that I was with him, and that we would share his couchette.
It was an overnight train. There was one cot. They winked at each other. I was something of a hostage if I stayed. But stay I did.
We stood there and we stood there and we talked all night long. Neither of us ever sat on that bed. He was smart and funny and his English was perfect. He said he worked on Francois Mitterrand’s security team. By the time the stars stopped flying by and we stopped in Grasse, I was pretty taken by him.”
— Pat Field Ravasio, Corte Madera
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Strangers on an Indian train
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“2003 riding a local train in India. Nobody spoke any English and the train was full of families and men traveling village to village. When we entered the train, it took a while before we found a compartment in which to put down our things — nobody would make room. After we finally found a place to sit, and after many minutes of awkward silence, my husband took out his digital camera and the room transformed.
Everyone wanted their picture taken, alone, in groups, with us… And suddenly we had a dozen smiling fiends sharing snacks, clambering over each other to get their photo, people coming from other cars, kids… Still couldn’t speak a word to them, but it was wonderful.”
— Irene Salter, Palo Cedro, Ca.
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On a single journey, the Coast Starlight, Empire Builder and Southwest Chief
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“In 1997, I had just completed my first semester as an elementary school teacher for LAUSD, and I was both overstimulated and burned out. I decided to make Amtrak trains my home-away-from-home for six days.
I took the Coast Starlight out of Los Angeles up the coast, and enjoyed some truly spectacular scenery of the Pacific as we went north. I then boarded the Empire Builder, which would take me across the top of the country to Chicago. The scenery included amazing views of the Columbia River Gorge that have stayed seared into my brain forever. Scenery in Montana was equally beautiful, but what I will never, ever forget is the bleakness of the prairie, starting in eastern Montana, all through North Dakota, and into western Minnesota. Hours and hours and hours of grass, grass and more grass. Desolate and beautiful simultaneously. I could imagine trying to cross it in a covered wagon and just being overcome by the never-endingness of it. I’ve read that some pioneers got “prairie fever,” which was a mental breakdown caused by the profound sense of isolation, and died by suicide because they couldn’t take it anymore. I had no trouble believing it.
Once out of the prairie in western Minnesota, the scenery got more conventional, with more towns, as well as larger cities. I was seriously worried about not making my Chicago connection, but Amtrak actually held the Southwest Chief. I boarded, and it started to move before I even made it to my roomette.
So I wouldn’t miss anything worth looking at, I had bought myself a wonderful book called “Rail Ventures: the Comprehensive Guide to Rail Travel in North America.” Armed with this book and a good camera, I was able to be in the observation car to photograph what I wanted to see. My roomette was cozy, but not cramped, and best of all it was quiet. I spent my days and nights napping, seeing fantastic scenery, eating all my meals in the dining car as part of the cost of my roomette, and catching up on my reading. My time belonged entirely to me, and the constant motion was both exciting and reassuring.
The United States is a huge country, and you don’t get a sense of that by flying from one coast to another in five hours or so. But when you spend 12 hours seeing nothing but prairie with not a person, car or structure in sight, you realize what an amazing country we all live in.”
— Joel Parkes, Los Angeles
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In L.A., a surprise along the tracks
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“A number of years ago, my wife and I took a sleeper car from L.A. to Portland and back, just for the experience. The scenery was incredible, especially in the sky dome car. Eating meals in the dining car with another couple each time was also a highlight. We met people we never would have otherwise, and talked about our lives. Getting rocked to sleep in a comfortable bed while gazing out the window is not to be missed.
But one thing came as a complete surprise: While traveling slowly through the L.A. metro area, many of the buildings and the concrete along the tracks were covered with graffiti. Not just crude tags in black paint either, but mile after mile of elaborate multicolored creations worthy of being called works of art, by talented but unknown people. I was shocked at how good much of it was. All in all, it was among our favorite parts of a memorable experience!”
— Jim Okerblom, Escondido
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Tamales, tacos, churros and cactus candy
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“My fondest memories were those traveling home to San Diego from UCSB in the early ’70s. I loved the easygoing and picturesque ride along the ocean and stopping halfway in L.A. before continuing on to San Diego. There was just enough layover time for me to walk over to Olvera Street, have a good tamale or taco, do a little shopping and pick up cactus candy or a churro for the rest of the ride home. That halfway stop was a highlight and made the four-hour trip that much more enjoyable. I always looked forward to that little taste of Mexico.”
— Sheryll Nuffer Roonan, Fairfield, Conn.
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The Rocky Mountain rainbow was just the beginning
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“You expect spectacular scenery while riding the Cumbres & Toltec Scenic Railroad, the highest, longest and most authentic narrow gauge train that steams for 64 miles through the Rocky Mountains, crossing the border of Colorado and New Mexico 11 times. But nothing prepared us for a trip in late May, where, after slowing down to cross a trestle with views in one direction, we had a 180-degree rainbow in the other, and then steamed into a herd of a thousand sheep that caused the train to eventually stop while they passed, much like the transcontinental railroad often had to stop for buffalo herds.
Northern New Mexico has many Basque sheep herders who drive the herds to higher ground at the beginning of the summer, and we had the good fortune to run into one. Almost literally.”
— Rich Grant, Denver
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Vendors in the aisles, tequila up ahead
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“I remember coming across the Sierra Madre Occidental on the way to Guadalajara from Nogales, with a train car full of deportees and stops in Mazatlan and Tequila. At each stop some new vendor would walk through selling tacos, horchata, live chickens… you name it. One 25-cent per liter of tequila led to another and next thing we know, we’re hanging with the locals from El Salto, Jalisco, for a month. Great people, priceless adventure! I still cherish the photos. What’s happened to this once-quaint village is criminal.”
— Elena Jarvis, Glenwood, Fla.
P.S. This is another Mexican passenger train that’s no longer running.
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Chasing family history across Canada
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“In 2008, my wife, my then-7-year-year-old daughter and I were going to take Amtrak from Los Angeles to Chicago, but the Amtrak booking agent screwed the reservations up so badly that we instead decided to take a train from Montreal to Vancouver.
There was some poignancy to this, as my grandmother was a picture bride from Greece. She had grown up on a small Dodecanese island and crossed the Atlantic in the 1920s. For the last leg of her journey, she took a train from Montreal to meet my grandfather (for the first time) in Vancouver. They met on a Saturday and married on a Monday in a Russian Orthodox Church. Experiencing the same journey that my grandmother had taken seemed like a good vacation hook.
Montreal was our point of departure, an enchanting city with fantastic food and charming denizens. After a few days we headed out to Toronto on a commuter-style train. It was perfectly adequate, but not particularly enchanting, and certainly not what my grandmother would have traveled on.
In Toronto, my daughter and I had afternoon tea at the Fairmont Royal York across from the train station, where we embarked on a more picturesque excursion.
We had a triple compartment. It was located in a stainless-steel streamlined car that was built in the 1950s, spot on for our little family of Midcentury Modern enthusiasts. We saw the train snake through Ontario forests, felt it rumble along Canada’s midwestern plains and then head up through the spectacular Canadian Rockies. There were plenty of bear, elk and other wildlife sightings along the way. We ate surprisingly good food like trout and pork chops for dinner. At night we watched train movies like “Murder on the Orient Express.”
We got off in Jasper, the Yellowstone of Canada, filled with glaciers, craggy mountains, waterfalls, rivers and spectacular vistas. We took bike and horseback rides. When I admonished my 7 year-old for complaining too much during a particularly wonderful excursion, she retorted, “Daddy, complaining is my passion!”
After a few days we got back on the train and headed to Vancouver. This was another scenic parade of mountains, rivers and forests.
In Stanley Park I pondered my grandmother’s voyage. Our trip was one of leisure. Hers was a life decision to escape the bleak prospects of an island girl.”
— George Skarpelos, Los Angeles
The post Why does train travel feel so special? Readers share their best memories appeared first on Los Angeles Times.
