San Joaquin Amtrak to Emeryville

It's thrilling. Thrilling like a child eagerly waiting for Santa Claus. I'm waiting for the train. I'm traveling with The Mister, my dear husband, Dennis. Our destination is Reno. I have desired a train trip over thee Sierra for several years, now, and we are finally taking it. If we were willing to ride the Amtrak bus part way (Stockton to Sacramento) we could have made it to Reno in one day. But, we did not want a bus ride ... train all the way. This means a two day trip: first leg of our trip is from Fresno, California to Emeryville, California.

Wylie picked us up at home and took us to the old Santa Fe Depot (recently refurbished by the city and declared a landmark) that is now the home of the Amtrak station. The weather was perfect, sunny yet cool. We sat outside near the tracks while waiting for our train. Hearing the train whistle off in the distance started that exciting anticipation. As the train pulled into the station I could feel the power of the engine in my chest ... a mighty powerful engine indeed, and loud.

a friendly volunteer at the old Santa Fe Depot in Fresno chats while we wait for our train

We boarded the train, headed straight up the stairs to the upper domed level. We found seats at a table, sharing the space with another passenger. The view was stellar. I have traveled up and down the Big Valley many times by car where the groves and orcchards of trees are above my head .... a bit like not seeing the forest for the trees. This time I am seeing the groves, orchards and vineyards from a birds eye view: the valley is indeed furtile and fruitful.

We were "entertained" by a gentleman two rows back who talked on his cell phone three hours straight. And, I mean straight. The young man on the other end (I deduced it was a young man from hearing this side of the talking) didn't say much because our side of the phone conversation was a loud, long running monologue. Cell yell at it's best. At least he had a pleasant voice, not some shrill scream-sounding voice. We were amused. He should have been a philosopher or a political pundit ... or a banker or broker ... but, he was being an advisor to a recently graduated young relative.

I called our hotel, the San Francisco/Oakland Bay Bridge Hilton Garden Inn, as we approached the station. They sent a courtesy van to the station and we were soon checked into our room. After cocktails and dinner we have retired for the night to the Mirra chair (where I sit, now) and The Mister cozied into the "Garden Sleep System" bed ("a patented, self-adjusting technology to conform to your body" ... I am quoting, here). Soon, I will give it a try.

The Mister relaxes before we head downstairs to the lounge for cocktails and dinner

Tomorrow ... heading eastward to our state capitol, Sacramento, then up over the Sierra, and onto Reno. No, we're not gamblers or gamers ... we're going to a concert.