Travel: American West

There were some, those being identified goals, for the trip back, coinciding with the beauty of slow travel to a destination, this time with 120 volts of power in each seat. Without laptop death, I’m able to finish coding the manuscript and edit a thirty page distinction paper.

The other two goals on the list: rest, scenery.

A month has gone by, 22 seems alright so far, preference given to even numbers for some reason and waking up absolutely refreshed in Glacier National Park. The train is coming to a stop soon; I’m lost in the sunshine, a novelty - the familiar mountains of the Rockies in the distance and Montana that hasn’t changed in making people like myself happy. The plentiful blue sky, as well, azure, brown shrubs, the High Plains and I have found peace with my dear brother and the coulees.

Hundreds, maybe a thousand or so, take this route everyday, passing through Shelby, MT where the wheat crop is just beginning. What do other travelers of this trip take note of? Their companions? A relationship with God? This trip is seasonal, maybe once-every ten years, but the fourwheelers, brown rolling hills and valleys hiding some of the trailer homes will be there in the fall and the people will be awaiting the trains to clear the tracks to carry on with their lives.

It’s the American West in spring for me – a wonderful first – yet it looks about the same brown I saw passing through this summer.

Those who know, seasoned train travelers, they must be taking note of changes and different characters they’ve met this trip on the Empire Builder. For me, the sensation of trains when you come to a stop -- but cannot tell without looking down at the ground for verification -- if you’re still moving or not. The train has been the slow reentry back to the States, probably best, as was the primer to the cultural civility of Canadian VIA rail, priming me for Vancouver.

The first visible roosters are spotted amongst the land’s indentations, filled in with snow. Windblown into ditches, and into Malta, MT we come. On the north side it appears that it is just a big golf course we’ve been seeing- the sand dunes as pockets of snow – to my right, south, the magnificent edge of the Badlands.

Thoughts, not observations, are building today as I work on finishing my typing. The last note of the journey reminds me to watch the sunset on the prairie.