Slow Travel: The Grand Tour

Maps of the US seem to be all over the media recently, a little patchwork quilt of reds and blues - a repeated reminder of the divisions between urban and rural, between coastal and central, between ethnic groups or income levels. But it’s one thing to see the maps of the country’s political inclinations, and quite another to get one’s head around the sheer vastness of these here United States.

Union Station in Washington, DC

I’ve written this from a train. This visit home, I decided to cut out the air travel and catch a few locomotives. Now, this isn’t an earth-shattering decision on my part. My move back home after college was by train. And I had crossed the country twice before, traveling from Washington, DC to Seattle. However, this was my first trip linking together so many rail rides – committing to a full loop (sorry southeastern US…), a “Grand Tour”, shall we say. It meant factoring in a solid 8.5 days in-transit. Inevitably, that makes you stop and think about how big the country is, how different each place is, and how many people call each home.

Just a quick history lesson – while the US wasn’t the first to pioneer railroads, it replicated and expanded upon the technology to an unparalleled extent. During the mid- to late-19th century, trains were the ultimate movers of people and products – capable of covering great distances quickly and relatively efficiently – but they were much more than that. As the name of the route from Seattle to Chicago – The Empire Builder – suggests, trains were also means of asserting national sovereignty and uniting geographically disparate regions. Railways served this purpose in countries like Italy and India, connecting a collection of autonomous city-states. In the US, railways helped assert the notion of manifest destiny and supported rebuilding in the post-Civil War reconstruction period. Between 1855-1871, the US government operated a land grant program for new rail companies to expand west (eventually totaling 730,000 sq km), encouraging settlement and development. Notably, the first transcontinental railroad was completed in 1869 by the Central Pacific and Union Pacific Railroad companies (note the link to my alma-mater…), running from San Francisco to New York City. Fortunes were made and lost in the rail business, and economies rose and fell.

With the expansion of motor vehicle and airplane use in the mid-20th century, trains became the less preferred method of moving people. Today, they still significantly contribute to US freight transport, most noticeably for heavier cargo traveling long distances. For instance, rail makes up 15% of US-North America transboundary freight transport (by value, second after trucks). But passenger rail has lagged behind other developed nations. While not surprising given how the country’s transportation network developed, the missed opportunity for the US to lead in rail innovation still saddens me.

Heading north in Central Oregon

Tears aside, there is much to be said from my Grand Tour. It took me across over 7,500 miles of the United States, including a southwestern route I had never been on before. Although I had vowed to use the time for an uninterrupted writing retreat, much of the daylight hours found me distracted by the landscape flying past. Here’s a brief overview:

Leg #1: Los Angeles to Oakland (12 hours)

My first time on this stretch of the Coast Starlight, I was surprised by how popular this route was, not to mention the number of vocal first-time train travelers. Filled with beautiful coastal views complemented by the rolling Central Valley scenery, the routes from LA are notorious for delays, not least because freight is king.

Leg #2: Oakland to Seattle (21 hours; 1,377 miles from LA)

During the winter, you lose all the northern California landscape to the night, but wake up to Oregon’s high desert with the dawn light. This remains my favourite route, perhaps because it invokes those comforting feelings of coming home. It’s also a pretty vibrant leg, with many passengers getting on and off for the shorter trips between San Francisco and Portland (or somewhere in between) and Portland to Seattle.

Skirting Glacier National Park as day breaks

Leg #3: Seattle to Chicago (45 hours; 2,206 miles)

This ride would be amazing in the summer, with some of the most impressive alpine window-watching! The tracks start along the Seattle waterfront, with views of the Pacific for the first hour or so. East-bound you miss the journey across the Cascade Mountains this time of year, but you catch the majestic peaks of Glacier National Park as the sun comes up. Looking at a map, it is also particularly interesting to see how the tracks skirt several Native American reservations, including: Colville, Blackfeet, Flathead, and Fort Belknap. It is a subtle reminder of the region’s tearful history.

While Montana takes an entire day to cross, the majority of which is comprised of sparsely populated prairie (there are less than 7 people per square mile in the state). North Dakota flew by under the cover of night. As the second day broke on Minnesota, we had a reminder of heightened border security, when a patrolman came onboard to ask passengers’ nationalities. Not to sound like a broken record, but people really do use the train! This seemed to be mostly short-hauls, and I expect the train is more convenient for some more rural areas, where major airports are hours drives away. The demographics leaned slightly older, some of whom I overheard discussing their dislike of flying and prefer to avoid the hassle of airports if they have time. Ehem, #32goingon70

Along the Mississippi is apparently the best place to spot eagles…

Leg #4: Chicago to New York City (20 hours; 959 miles)

Chicago is the hub that nearly all cross-country routes go through, and this time proved trains to be oddly reliable: with some snowstorms hitting the northeast and flight/bus cancellations, the trip was packed with people who had opted for the train.

Leg #5: New York City to Washington, DC (3 ½ hours; 226 miles)

Much better than the bus. Period.

Leg #6: Washington, DC to Chicago (18 hours; 764 miles)

Passing through Chicago again, with a few hours to catch up with a friend (or family).

Leg #7: Chicago to Los Angeles (43 hours; 2,256 miles)

As my first time on the Southwest Chief, this leg of the journey was fascinating and quite a contrast from the northern routes. Deserts, canyons, and glimpses of the Rockies – after that first night, it soon became clear we were not in Kansas anymore (which we crossed while sleeping). There were also little reminder of the strong industrial ties to railways – passing offshoots to mines and cars full of coal, destined for ports or other parts of the country.

Coal cars in Colorado

After spending over 160 hours on trains in the span of five weeks, I made it back to beginning, to leave you with a few final thoughts on taking the slow travel option. 1) This was definitely a lesson in Geography, a refresher in neighboring States and overland distances, while tracking that little blue dot inch along my phone’s map. 2) I’m continually surprised at how quickly the time flies. While three days seems like a long time to get from point A to point B, in the scheme of things it isn’t. And when you travel this way, everything tends to feel just a little bit less urgent. 3) Opting for the train has to be more than low-carbon travel. In Europe, there is really no comparison: the default electric high-speed rail produces about a tenth (or less) of the greenhouse gas emissions of flying. However, this is ‘murica! Amtrak trains emit about ~0.45lb CO2/passenger mile (the NE corridor is at 0.37lb CO2 because it runs on electricity rather than diesel), which is comparable or slightly higher than a non-stop long-distance flight (though taking a coach is by far the greenest, though perhaps less enjoyable, option). While sometimes it is the more carbon-friendly option, there are also plenty of other reasons to go via rail (did you see that mountain?).

On that note, anyone interested in a combined rails and trails trip? Until then…

Shameless plug - more photos from the Grand Tour on Instagram.

Credit: Points with a Crew Blog

The Best of Times, The Worst of Times

I think all of us can agree that 2016 had a bit of a rough run. It was politically charged; it was tragic and sorrowful; it was also beautiful in many ways; and I hope it will open the door to some much needed healing in the year to come. Holding with tradition for the eighth year running, I put together a bit of a recap of the past year seen through the eyes of My Munchable Musings.

This year seemed particularly replete with environmental and social grievances, as if the Anthropocene - the age of Homo sapiens - had finally come into its own. Despite international efforts to overcome poverty and injustice, we are still battling inequalities reminiscent of bygone eras. This was my fifth year Living Below the Line, contemplating the trade-offs the food insecure face in terms of costs, calories, and nutrition. Perhaps a product of my own news filters - thanks selection bias and algorithms for reinforcing our bubbles - but there also seemed to be considerable coverage of human-induced environmental problems and social justice issues. Imminent climate change catastrophes made late headlines, victims of environmental exploitation made small waves, and the world watched rather silently (or preoccupied) loss of human rights and dignity. Thanks Twitter for making the world's atrocities so much more accessible (and Storify for allowing me to rehash it all).

Going back through my actual blog posts from the year, however, there seemed to be much more to celebrate. In true Munchable fashion, we took a bit of a tour through through the beauty of biodiversity and food, at the intersection where art and agriculture collide. About halfway through the year, a challenge to compile a week of photos depicting beauty in nature made its way around the interwebs. A lunchtime conversation spurred a post on the amazing tuber diversity. And of course I could not go a full year without pontificating on the joys inherent in the art of bread-baking. These may seem like small potatoes, but to me they seem more like beacons of hope amidst stormy weather.

  

Finally, this year saw many developments here at command central. At the end of January, I left the damp of England after 2.5 years and moved to Australia in order to continue the over-education process. On the two month journey between the two Commonwealth countries, I made a second transcontinental rail trip to see immediate family in the US, followed by a first foray into Southeast Asia (including some history lessons and another train trip). Starting the PhD has helped me finally come to terms with my identity NOT as an ecologist, but as intentionally straddling disciplines (good luck with that...).

Mid-way through the year, I did some stock-taking as a 30th birthday exercise. Almost as a physical reminder of this aging, I proceeded to tear my ACL and menisci (...lesson to all that gymnastics takes hours of training, particularly when you are no longer 17). To ensure the year ended on a high note, I scheduled in my first surgery and overnight stay at a hospital the week before Christmas. I suppose out of necessity, the new year will be one of recovery, and not just for me, but hopefully more broadly from all the cruelty, divisiveness, and hatred that has taken place recently. Here's to a more enlightened 2017.

Read Years Passed

Another Decade, Another Degree - 2015

One Hodge-Podge of a Year - 2014

New Year's Resolution - 2013

A Year in Food - 2012

New Year, Empty Fridge - 2011

A New Year's Resolution - 2010

It's a New Year! - 2009

Tea Time and Trains

Those of you who read this blog know I have a thing for trains. When confronted with the option of flying, busing, driving, or traveling via rail, I most often choose the latter. I don't mind long train trips, either. In fact, I began writing this post from one leg of a trip from London to Amsterdam (five odd hours) before my computer battery died, but you may also recall the post I wrote on a cross-country trip from Washington, DC to Seattle. Trains are hailed as a less carbon-intensive way to get from point A to point B, compared to flying, and enable reasonable mobility for those of us who cringe at the thought of sitting behind a steering wheel. On the other hand, trains are not cheap and thus maintain a bit of an elitist reputation. And as I discovered during a recent literary indulgence, the history of railways is shrouded in a fine mist of colonialism, corruption, and changing landscapes. Among other things, the creation and spread of railways across the world facilitated the transport of agricultural products, changed diets, and hurried us along a path of a globalized food system that is conspicuous today.

This brings me to tea, which is quite an oddity. Stereotypically (and yet truly) central to the daily lives of Brits, this brewed beverage of steeped, smoked leaves hails only from tropical climes, and serves as a constant reminder of a colonial past. Like the trade of spices, which drove tensions and tiffs between European powers as they clamoured to control the supply and sale of these goods from the Far East, the tea industry prompted considerable investment and infrastructural development, still evident in today's largest producing countries. According to this book I alluded to earlier, in many territories of the empire, rail lines were built during the mid and late 19th century for the primary purpose of transporting commodities (often agricultural or mineral) to ports for shipment overseas. The Darjeeling Himalayan Railway is an example of this, built originally to move rice and to enable a viable trade in tea, it is now relegated to the realm of touristic attraction. Similar phenomena occurred in East Africa, particularly Kenya, in the early 20th century.

On the one hand, these railroads spurred economic growth, broadened access to transit, and facilitated an entrenched tea culture. Yet it is also interesting the consider that the mode of 'green' transportation was one of the initial enablers of large-scale landscape change and habitat loss. While it's hard to get a sense of the extent of change historically, there is documentation of contemporary forest incursion from tea plantation expansion in countries like Uganda, India, and Kenya. Well, it's something to mull over with a nice cup of tea!