SUN SONG 19: Palm Trees and Diner Cars
Life aboard the slow moving Amtrak train.
June 2nd, 2022
Richmond, VA → Charleston, SC
1.42 miles
Finally, I’m here in Charleston. Population 150,227. The 9th smallest city of this long, long walk.
To get here, I rode the train some 390+ miles from Richmond. It took about 8 hours (hopefully the longest ride of the trip, but I’m not holding my breath). Thanks to all this heat, trains are required to run at reduced speeds (60mph instead of 80mph), thus we arrived about 2 hours late, giving me little time to walk or take many pictures.
So, I had a full day aboard a slow moving train. There’s WiFi, which occasionally cuts out in remote areas, but it’s decently reliable. There’s always a diner car, usually in the middle or end of the train. They’re spacious, have tables for working, and quieter than coach seating (there’s nothing special about coach—it’s like riding on a slightly more comfy bus).
I’m usually able to snag one of many tables in the diner car if I can position myself on the platform just right. Today I sat in one for the entire ride. They’re not nearly as in demand as I’d have expected, but they still manage to fill up fast.
Behind me, a family played cards for a few hours, which felt appropriate while traveling by rail. Outside it was probably in the high 90º’s, but inside the train it felt like a freezer. I contemplated putting on my jacket if it wasn’t buried deep inside my bag. I chose to sit with the cool air instead. It’s not getting any colder the further I ventured south. I’ll take it while I can.
I could have stocked up on snacks prior to leaving Richmond, but there’s only so much granola or tuna packets I can stand. So I took my chances with the diner car’s food options. There’s an array of microwavable food for sale—like hamburgers, pizza, and hotdogs—leaving much to be desired, but soothes a rumbling stomach. Beer and wine are available in the event you’d like to get intoxicated out of boredom, as I’m sure many riders do, but I’ve yet to take advantage.
So, for lunch I ordered a tiny cheese pizza and a chicken bacon wrap for dinner. It’s not the best food I’ve ever eaten, definitely not healthy, but it’s good enough for my needs. I suppose I’ll walk it off eventually. Each time I ordered, a big man greeted me from behind the counter. He had an elusiveness about him and spoke in riddles.
Hey playa, what can I getcha?
I asked him how long he’d been working the trains, which was about 25 years. I didn’t mean to pry, but I was curious about his life on the road. He’d been on this train since New York City and was on his way to Savannah. To my understanding, this was the route he always worked. With such long hours, he got three days off a week.
So where do you call home?
Wherever the train is, boss.
Have you made friends riding the train?
I’ve seen babies grow up. Yeah, I got friends.
I didn’t press further, as there was a line of customers slowly accumulating behind me. I returned to my table with another cup of coffee. I nursed two cups throughout the day. I don’t know if there’s anything more relaxing than listening to the horn of the train while sipping coffee and watching the landscape go by.
Outside the small stretch of rail between Boston and Washington, Amtrak rail service doesn’t own its tracks, which riddles the service with delays. Instead, the trains largely run on rail owned by private freight companies. These companies have very little incentive to add tracks that would improve passengers’ experience because Amtrak doesn’t necessarily make them any money as, say, moving freight. The United States, unlike nearly every country in the world, does not own its own intercity rail infrastructure. While Amtrak still manages to hobble on today, it’s hard to call it a success. While Amtrak’s issues aren’t so simple, the rail service here in the States could be so much better.
Nonetheless, we continue. Rocky Mount, Selma, Fayetteville, Florence. The train moves slowly and gently rocks back and forth along the tracks. Each time, Big Man would hop off the train to say hello to employees working the platform and share a smoke. He’s a popular guy.
There’s no question I’m in the south now. The landscape is filled with tiny homes on large patches of land. There’s plenty of dense forest rolling hills, and now swampland. There’s corn too—more than I would have expected. They say it’s “knee-high by the Fourth of July” but down here, it’s already up to my stomach.
Before I knew it, we’d arrived in North Charleston. Palm trees line the outside of the station and a waxing crescent moon hangs in the sky. It’s as if I’m staring at the South Carolina license plate, but in real life.
That station, as I wrote newsletters ago, is actually located 7 miles north of downtown Charleston. I figured I would just walk to my stay for the evening, but given these delays, I decided to call a car. Walking on busy roads in the dark would have been a nightmare.
I’m staying in a hostel during my time here. It’s the first time I’ve stayed in such a place. I had my reservations prior to arriving, but the cost of hotels and Airbnb’s out here were astronomical and would have cost me almost 3 times as much as I’ve paid in other cities. Staying in this hostel is way cheaper and centrally located.
I slept just fine last night, despite sharing a room with three others. The people staying here are friendly. Most are young European travelers—from countries like Germany, Malta, and Belgium—visiting the United States for the very first time. I asked Christof, a Belgian visiting the States for a friend's wedding, what his first impressions of America are and he goes, “there’s so much space and everyone is loud.” Chirstof is a nice guy.
I’m thankful for that long train ride as my body could use the rest. My back is recovering and my blisters are beginning to callus. There’s a certain excitement here in Charleston as it’s a vacation destination.
Alright! Time to head out and get walking.
Wish me luck,
–Alex
Love the diner car!