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On the Right Track
By Tom Miller, May & June 2006
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On our fourth afternoon, after pulling in to Truckee, California, we took a lengthy bus ride to Lake Tahoe. During the ride to the 193-square-mile lake, we passed through thick growths of pine and fir and groves of golden aspen that formed the buttons on California's autumnal overcoat. It's what we didn't do—ski—on which the Lake Tahoe area stakes it reputation. Some of the West's best skiing takes place around Tahoe—at Squaw Valley, Alpine Meadows, and Northstar—with natural as well as machine-made snow blanketing the ground from early December through deep into the spring. But aside from skiing, the opportunities for fun at Tahoe are abundant—hang-gliding, fishing, hiking, water-skiing, and, of course, gambling at casinos on the Nevada side of the lake.
Sadly, our visit to Tahoe didn't allow for any of this. Instead, we took a one-hour boat trip around the north end of the lake, then reboarded our buses and returned to the train. For me it was nothing more than a lot of water beneath a lot of mountains.
The next day, upon reaching Roseville, half an hour from Sacramento, we took a bus to Yosemite National Park. In The Dharma Bums Jack Kerouac describes his Yosemite as "the incomparable dreamy meadow, which had a beautiful pond, and after that it was boulders and nothing but boulders." To me it was overwhelming, irresistible, and breathtaking, and that was before reaching for my thesaurus. While there, one can gaze reverently at Half Dome, ponder the meandering Merced River, go birding, ride horseback, look for flowers, fish in sparkling streams, meditate upon the sequoia. And don't overlook the Ansel Adams Gallery.
As it happened, our Yosemite guide, a clean-cut young fellow, overlooked nothing. With Bridalveil Falls in the near distance, he told us he had met and married his wife at Yosemite, which elicited a round of spontaneous applause. Further, if you stand under Bridalveil Falls where the mist tickles your face, within one year you will meet your true love. "Let's go!" cried our crowd, both unmarried and married. We stayed at the rather utilitarian Yosemite Lodge at the falls that night, but we could have stayed a week without duplicating any activities.
Right on schedule on the seventh and last day of our journey, the AOE Rockies & Sierras train pulled into our debarkation point—Emeryville, California, across the bay from San Francisco. We'd been cosseted and educated, seen remarkable sights, and journeyed as they must have done in the golden age of train travel back in the 1940s and '50s. And for each passenger there was surely one moment, one view, one attraction, that implored a return at a later date. For me it was the visit to the outsize, mesmerizing Canyonlands and Arches national parks. My week aboard this extraordinary train also rekindled my abiding passion for the grandeur of the American West and the lore of the rails.
Now, where is that old Lionel?
Prizewinning travel writer Tom Miller has written nine books that take readers through the American Southwest and Latin America. Among his titles are
The Panama Hat Trail (National Geographic Society, 2001) and
Trading With the Enemy: A Yankee Travels Through Castro's Cuba (Basic Books, 1996).
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