Rolling, rolling, rolling . . . .

This is definitely the best way to travel if you don't care how long it takes to get where you're going. We left Emeryville about an hour and a half late; we're now nearly to Portland and we're running about four and a half hours late, but we have had a fantastic time. It can be very difficult to plan your day when you need to decide between napping, reading, or eating.

This has got to be one of the best ways to start a vacation. The train sways quietly along, drawing you with it. It reminds me of late-night car rides home when I was little, parents in the front, and kids drifting slowly to sleep in the back.

The thing that is making the trip truly special is the wonderful cabin upgrade that Rune gave us. Instead of a tiny little compartment, we have a cabin that spans the whole width of the train and is about three times larger than the average. Sure, we stop off in the observation car on the way to our meals, but most of the time we stay cosily ensconced in our own space. There's a shower down the hall, and a coffee station just upstairs, and if only we'd brought along snacks it would take 3 large men & a crowbar to pry us out in Seattle.

You know, America is big. It's really big. We've rolled past suburbs and grassy valleys and plains and cinder cones and mountains and meadows and forests and bridges and swamps and fields and rickety towns and sawmills and warehouses and rivers and more bridges. And everything we've seen is just one edge of one upper corner of the country. Wild . . . .

Every once in a while, one of us chuckles. It's a giddy feeling, being away from the regular responsibilities, together. Internal reserves are welling up again, fed by some spring of idleness and naps. Lots of naps.