There aren’t any major airports anywhere near western North Dakota, so the fastest way home was to ride one day south to Williston, ND, then hop on a train. The trip home was so long, Amtrak doesn’t even sell itineraries from Williston to Dallas. I had to buy one ticket from Williston to Chicago, then another from Chicago to Dallas, with 22 hours separating the arrival of the 1st train and the departure of the 2nd. Altogether, the trip would take three days. Four if you count riding south to Williston.

It only took until about 1:00 PM before I made it from Fortuna to Williston, my final riding destination. By sheer luck, there happened to be a WarmShowers host there. He’d described Williston as a small town, but it’s much larger than most I’d seen this summer. My host wasn’t available until after 5:00, so I spent most of the afternoon at the public library.

Pat is originally from Thailand and works in the oil fields as some kind of mechanical engineer. Oil and wind (especially oil) seem to be the dominant industries around here. Spent the evening mostly just hanging out, talking about bike touring, and watching soccer games. Same for the next morning, until I spent another afternoon at the library before getting on my train.

Each Amtrak train only has six spots for bikes, and they go fast. Knowing this, I’d bought my train tickets weeks ahead of time. Teeder’s wide tires didn’t fit in the rack, so each train simply leaned Teeder against a pile of luggage. I suspect they could do that with any bike, and probably with multiple bikes per car, so why limit it to only six per train?

Public transportation has an odd vendetta against bikes. Whether on a plane or a train, if a box is a certain size and weight, it’ll cost a given amount, unless it has a bike in it. Then it costs more. Why?? What difference does it make??

Overall though, trains aren’t a bad way to get around, especially as it relates to bike touring. While it could still be better, it’s easier to get a bike on a train than an airplane. If you purchase a bike spot ahead of time, you can simply ride to the train station, roll your bike on, and when you arrive, hop on your bike and ride away. The seats are comparable to a first-class airplane seat, with plenty of leg room and elbow room, and they recline a lot, so it’s not too hard to sleep. It’s generally a more comfortable ride, and you can get up and move around whenever you want. You can even spend the majority of the ride in the lounge car, if you prefer.

The most obvious problem with trains is the time. It would take about three hours to fly from Williston to Dallas (if there were a direct flight), and 21 hours to drive. It took 44 hours on a train, not including the layover in Chicago. It should take less time, since trains don’t get stuck in traffic, and there’s no speed limit either.

However, our country has decided that the best way to get around is the one which is the most expensive for the user, requires the most expensive infrastructure to build and maintain, is the loudest, most space-consuming, most dangerous, and most polluting. Why would anyone want to get across the country at 200 mph for pennies on the dollar, while you watch movies and take a nap? Why wouldn’t you want to be forced into spending thousands of dollars on a private vehicle, pay hundreds of dollars for gas, and get there three times slower, while having to drive it yourself?

But the answer to that question is the actual worst thing about the train: The people. People who play music and videos on speakerphone. People who speak exclusively at shouting volume. Kids and toddlers in general. My last train had one passenger who yelled at imaginary people.

On the train to Chicago, I was lucky enough to score a lower level seat. Believe me, you want the lower level. There are less than half as many people on the lower level, since more than half the car is taken up by bathrooms and luggage. By sharing the car with only 16 people, instead of 40+, you dramatically decrease the chances of dealing with noisy people.

But more importantly, the cars are connected at the upper level, but not the lower level. The doors between cars are noisy, and if you’re on the upper level, you’ll listen to people walking up and down the aisle, as well as doors opening and closing, about every five minutes. All night. Because people just have to walk up and down the aisle, open and close the car doors, go to the lounge car at 3:00 AM, while dozens of people are trying to get some sleep.

I thought I was in for a night of good rest, but half of my car decided they wanted to be “The Wild Car.” Yes, they called themselves that, aloud. Look, I like Jack and Coke as much as anyone, along with and hanging out with friends and having a good time. But maybe this isn’t the time and place, at midnight in an enclosed space, when there are people trying to sleep literally one meter away from you.

The group was eventually told to move the party to the lounge car, where it should’ve been in the first place.
Check that, they should’ve never tried to throw a small party on a train in the first place.

I didn’t get much sleep, but managed to rally when I got to Chicago. I knew it was going to be culture shock, compared to everything else I’d experienced all summer. And it was, in the best way. Every sight and sound was stimulating, but not over-stimulating. Just the right amount.

My hostel was only 1.5 km from the train station, and on the short bike ride there, I saw the Willis Tower (formerly Sears Tower, tallest building in the world), got a good look at the Chicago River, and I swear I found a spot where The Dark Knight was filmed, underneath the L.

The Chicago HI Hostel is definitely the largest I’ve ever seen, and would also be the nicest, if the L didn’t run right past the window every 5-10 minutes, all night. Next time, I’d stay there again, but would specifically request a room which doesn’t have a window facing the tracks.

All I wanted to do that night was eat some deep dish and walk around downtown. I made two friends at the hostel, one French and one Filipino, and the three of us did exactly that. There was a free concert in the park 2 km away, and Al Capone’s favorite pizza place was on the walk there. We grabbed a signature pizza to go, sat on the lawn, and enjoyed free live music, set in front of a stunning backdrop.

Now that’s Chicago.

Richard wanted to walk along the river on the way back, and both of us agreed. It turned out to be enchanting. Everywhere I looked, I kept thinking to myself, “Oh, wow!”

Chicago’s downtown is the largest I’ve seen. I’ve been to Los Angeles, and while it’s a bigger city, Chicago has a bigger downtown. Most large cities I’ve visited have a concentrated downtown, perhaps one square mile, to which all the skyscrapers are confined. Once you’ve gone a mile in any direction, you’re still in the city, but the skyscrapers are gone.

Not Chicago. They just keep going. Considering we only walked in one direction, then doubled back, that indicates how expansive it truly is. It keeps going like that in all directions.

My train didn’t leave until 2:00 PM the next day. I didn’t catch up on sleep, so I considered just relaxing at the hostel until 1:00, but convinced myself to get my butt out the door and see some more of Chicago before I go. This might be my only chance.

For the most part, I simply rode Teeder to the lakeside park and spent some time there. I’d never seen a lake nearly the size of Lake Michigan. If you didn’t know any better, you might think it’s the ocean.

After a while though, I could tell something was missing. Waves? Yeah, but this is a built-up area. I’ve seen harbors that looked kinda like this, and they didn’t have much waves. No seagulls, nor any other wildlife? True, but that’s not it…

Then it clicked. The smell!! Lake Michigan doesn’t smell like anything, because it’s fresh water. The ocean, though, has a distinct, salty smell. This wasn’t the ocean; it was simply a lot of water.

Even in a massive outdoor park, Chicago is so tall it can’t be ignored.

When riding through downtown Chicago streets, it's like being in a giant man-made canyon.

Making my way back to the train station, I absolutely loved the proper bike infrastructure. It had been a while since I’d seen any. I still need to start attending local city council meetings and advocating for non-motor transportation. Only 13 years since I wrote my thesis on the subject, and still haven’t gotten one opportunity to work on it.

Say what you want about public education (and I could say a lot), but it’s one of the only industries that’ll give fresh talent a chance. And bills don’t pay themselves, so here I am. How did anyone else ever crack into any industry without experience? I’d like to know.

On the train from Dallas to Chicago, I was seated next to an Amish guy named Henry. Talking to him was fascinating. As we passed through St. Louis, we both made a point of getting a good look at the Gateway Arch.

“What is that thing?” he asked. He’d never heard of it before.
“The St. Louis Arch. It’s a famous monument.”
“Why did they build it?”
That’s actually a good question. I’d never really thought about it. “Mostly for decoration, I guess. It’s supposed to be a symbolic gateway from the east of the country to the west.”
He nodded.

He was also engrossed by the barges on the Mississippi River. He obviously knew what a boat was, but didn’t really understand the barges, nor what they were doing.

Henry was originally born in Mexico, but now lived in Canada. Turns out there are Amish communities in both countries. Right from the start, he was tri-lingual, since most of his town spoke Spanish, he spoke Amish “low” German at home, and his school was taught in “high” German. Including distinct dialects, he now speaks seven languages, but can only read and write in one of them (German).

We spent a lot of time talking about family. Henry was on his way to Mexico primarily to visit his sister, but would also visit his mother while he was there. His sister was sick and he thought this would be the last chance he’d get to see her. He was taking the train to San Antonio, as far south as it goes, at which point he’d get on a bus bound for the TX-MEX border, then get on another bus in Mexico in order to get to his sister’s town. Altogether, he’d spend six days on trains and buses, only to spend three days in Mexico.

66 hours after getting on board in Williston, I disembarked in downtown Dallas. Jen was waiting on the platform and we immediately embraced. We lugged Teeder over to her car and went home.

The 4th of July was two days later, which wound up being good timing. On my first day back, all I wanted to do was go home, shower, change, take a nap, and maybe watch a movie. Day two, there were many things which needed to be done, like a trip to the grocery store, clean the apartment, and wash all my summer clothes. But on day three, it was time to party! It felt like the whole country was throwing a celebration for my homecoming.

To be concluded...

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