westward | train 6

Each time the train pulls out of a station, the initial acceleration so gentle that I barely notice we've started moving unless I'm looking carefully. The Colorado river was frozen over for much of our trip through the mountains—enough so that it was only detectable by being slightly more flat than the surrounding land.  Now that we've made it down stream on the other side of the continental divide, we have churning water next to us, silent and wild.  It's cool.

Ross is the cafe car attendant. I went down there before dinner to see what it was, really. Ross was sitting there alone--nobody apparantly hangs in the cafe car near dinnertime. Turns out he lives in Joliet and he's reading the Grapes of Wrath and he previously graduated from chef school, but currently microwaves hot dogs for a living. One of those ironies.

The sunset tonight was heartstopping. Jet-red sand cliffs sped past in sheer lines, highlighted with snow and dotted with sage. One couple sat in the viewliner car in the booth next to me and kept trailing off their conversation in favor of the windows.

The dark has fallen again, and my dinner reservation is soon: 7pm. I'm told that once we pass Salt Lake City, the chances of having any kind of signal are null, so my thoughts will probably have to continue in Word instead of Wordpress.