I've got a few days of catch up to do, in large part because of the ever-quickening pace that comes with being in the aura of the Big Apple, and because of my need for recovery from all the motley. So, we'll start with the final leg of the trip that got me here.
March 27, 2016
It's 4:30 or so in the morning. I'm on the Capitol Limited high-balling to Pittsburgh, having only a few hours of sleep due to the knowledge that I would have to disembark at about 5:30 or so. The sun just starts to peek out from the eastern horizon at a little after 5:00, to reveal hills in silhouette and the mist covering the valleys and the towns situated within them. As the sun continues to slowly rise, the colors make themselves more known: intense shades of the greens of the trees and growth, the rusts of the industrial structures, the varying hues of the a-frames and Victorians, of both wood and brick construction, that pass us by. The sky itself becomes and increasingly glorious blue, without a patch of white or gray to suggest precipitation.
We roll into Pittsburgh. One can see in short order, just from the distance, that there seemed to be much more to this city than Big Oil and the rust of dilapidated, abandoned industries. The city seemed to have much in common with the smaller towns we encountered previously, as it's nestled in wooded hillsides, and serves as the meeting point between three distinct rivers.
After about a 90 minute layover, we board the Pennsylvanian to begin the final leg to New York City.
Between Pittsburgh and Philadelphia, we encountered much of the same type of topography on the first half of the trip. Outside the coach seat window, we observed Huntingdon, a town containing what looked to be an antiques mall running along the route. For some reason, when I looked at the mall and the antiques alongside of it, the two words that came to my mind were "shabby chic". The Horseshoe Curve was also along the route, a huge curve cut into the hillsides that formed the boundary of a small lake and valley gorge underneath. The curve is sharp enough to that if you're at either end of the train, you can see the the other end of your train as you're traveling. Many a photographer-in-desire were pulling out their video cameras, iPhones, and SLRs to capture the vast vistas.
Another highlight of this part of the trip was passing by the Altoona Rail Museum. A roundhouse appears to be the centerpiece, along with the varying ages of rolling stock and locomotives in and around it. A group of kids can be seen playing on one of the small play areas on the museum grounds. I could spend hours at a place like this, so if I'm in these parts again, I just might stop in for an extended look-see.
After an extended stop in Harrisburg, we eventually arrived in Philadelphia. A mystery ensued soon after we pulled in, as the head locomotive was detached from the train consist. Why is this, we wondered? Was there something wrong with the prime mover? More brake problems, as I had on the Empire Builder just before coming into Chicago? It took over one hour to get a catenary-line powered prime mover. OK, I understand now. The tracks are enclosed for a great distance going into Penn Station, and to run Diesel power down in those tubes and the station itself would be literally suicide. After a sustained period of no power (and thus, no air conditioning and water pumps, thus no running water or ability to flush the commodes - I'll leave the resultant smells to your imagination), we finally linked up to our new prime mover, and soon after we exited the station, we took off. Literally. The speeds we obtained with the new loco were considerably more than the 80 miles per hour which is the operational limit of diesel power - considering the rate at which scenery was blurring past, this struck me as taking an Acela trip without paying the Acela price. This was not just high-balling - this was hauling ass. And given the amount of time waiting in a sweltering train consist, it fit me just fine.
We sped through the rest of Philadelphia and the communities of New Jersey. Among the sites along this route was the sight of Prudential Arena (home of the New Jersey Devils) situated only a few blocks from the crushing poverty of the surrounding areas of Newark. After speeding through the rest of the state, we found ourselves in one of the tubes that led to Penn Station. We stopped in, I hauled my backpack and roll around (I over-packed for this trip, and it was becoming quite obvious to me as I hauled my literal and figurative booty up the steel steps to the station), I snaked my way around the bustling masses and found a service booth, where I purchased my 7-day transit pass for $32. These MetroPasses come in handy, and are a virtual passport to the city, especially if you don't make the mistake of trying to drive in it, especially in Midtown or the Financial District. I took the 1 train Uptown to 103rd street, hauled my literal and figurative booty up two more flights of steps (again) up to the street level, and my hotel was just a few steps across the street. Right there, in sight.
I'll have more about the Marrakech Hotel in my next post.
More Later.
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