I was up early and ready to go. Allen was kind enough to take me, my bike, and all my possessions for the next seven weeks down to the station. The train pulled away at 9:45 a.m. and I sat back and tried to relax. I thought of all that had happened to get me to this point; the one week Washington bike trip that got me thinking again about the bike tour I always wanted to take; the 9-11 event that got me off my butt to start doing some of the things I always wanted to do; the house to prepare for Beth, the house and cat sitter; the projects finished at work; and all the gear collected and packed. I also thought back over my training; the many days of riding through the rainy winter and all the weight sessions in the gym. Would it be enough? Was I ready? I was also worried about my back – always a weak link in my riding. I had severely cranked it the day before and now it was really stiff and sore, I knew this would be a problem.
I finally convinced myself that I was ready or at least there was nothing more I could do at this point, and settled back into the rhythm of the train.
A few observations from the train:
• Trains go through the “backyards” of most towns.
• The ‘drug runner guy’ on the train who couldn’t get into Canada, “They wouldn’t let me in,” I heard several versions of his story on the way south.
• The couple that slept almost the whole way and only ate chocolate, pepsi and chips.
• The train was almost two and a half hours late into Santa Barbara, but the commuter to Anaheim left only 20 minutes late. I don’t know where we made up the time.
• Got to the hotel at midnight, ate my warm chocolate chip cookie I received at check-in and slept soundly in my DoubleTree bed.