ROLLING THROUGH BAGHDAD. My ride on the Surf Line was both investigative and practical. At Los Angeles, I changed to the Southwest Chief. The economy bedroom is a comfortable way to get away from it all, and I mean that literally (this post will refrain from too much glee at the passengers who were frustrated with the lack of cell phone service in away from the big cities.)

Timetables, ticket ready for the conductor's inspection, scanner, PJs, two bottles of water provided by Amtrak.

Climate controls, reading light, bathrobe on hanger, also a slightly damp bathing suit.


Amtrak Southwest Chief 4, Los Angeles to Albuquerque, 4-5 July 2006: Genesis locomotives 141, 163, 148, baggage car 1716 (converted from a Heritage car), Superliner transition sleeper (crew accommodation) 39043, sleepers 32050 (my car, rebuilt with additional wood paneling, very Hiawatha) and 32031 (with the traditional carpeting halfway up the walls), diner 38055, Sightseer Lounge 33014, coaches 34063, 34117, 34107. I've adjusted my watch, it's about 40 seconds off.

Leave Los Angeles 6:47:01.

The rapid transit shops are trackside near the station.


These viaducts over the Los Angeles River have ornamental towers at each end.


Fullerton 7:16:33-7:22:50.


The steam train to the Dells evoked the Boston and Maine with those red window bands. In a collection of vintage coaching stock at the Fullerton station is the real Boston and Maine Salisbury Beach, one of a series of 6 section, 6 roomette, 4 bedroom cars built for the Bangor and Aroostook, Boston and Maine, and New Haven.

Riverside 8:04:34-8:10:25.

The last time I rode the Southwest Limited, as it was then called, the train used the Santa Fe's passenger line via Pomona and Pasadena with a stretch of median-strip running and some impressive viaducts. Tonight's line (new mileage!) was used by some Santa Fe passenger trains up to Amtrak. It has since received a commuter train line as far as San Bernardino.

It was dark by the time we reached San Bernardino, but not yet prime fireworks time. I saw a few impromptu efforts around San Bernardino but there weren't many pyrotechnicians at work on Cajon Pass.

Overnight, I was asleep through Baghdad and the alphabet cities, finally awakening and deciding to start the next day somewhere east of Winslow, Arizona. Overnight, the train managed to fall thirty minutes down on its schedule.

Once out of the San Francisco Peaks and onto the high desert, we were rolling in fine fashion, with Interstate 40/Route 66 to the north. Don't these cross-country trucks look puny rolling along, one little load at a time, from a train going 90 mph?


Gallup, New Mexico, 5 July, 8:56:40-9:10:45. The yardmaster at Gallup had his troubles, with some grain hoppers derailed and broken on the west end of his yard. It didn't cramp our style getting through town. The disadvantage of the digital camera is in the startup and shooting lag; had I brought the 35 mm to breakfast with me (tacky, tacky) I might have obtained a grab shot of the derailment.

East of Gallup, the Red Cliffs of New Mexico. I didn't see any coyotes lurking on the pinnacles.


Although there's now centralized traffic control on two main tracks through here, the train was observing the traditional left-handed operation dictated by the construction of the mountain crossing out of Needles. In places, the two tracks diverge. Here's one of multiple intermodal trains that met us, sometimes at speed, sometimes holding for maintenance reasons. Makes those trucks look really puny.


The schedule allows ample margin for recovering time.

Arrive Albuquerque 11:29:48 (against a schedule time of 12:22, presumably there are no intermediate time points east of Gallup or ample recovery margins between the last time point and Albuquerque.)

The diesels are refueled. With Albuquerque no longer on the primary freight main, there are no fuel racks at the station.


A few traders are selling Mexican and Southwest crafts, snacks, and tamales. (Yum. Also replenished the larder for the continuation of the journey.)


Two classic names in transportation surround the plaza. The flag confirms who has sovereignty, if not stylistic influence. But the bus station is closer to the tracks than the Amshack, which is behind me and farther from the tracks than the Milwaukee Airport or Sturtevant for Racine stations.


The inside of the bus terminal is tidy. Buses are accepting passengers for destinations in Texas and Mexico.


(to be continued)