I made it safe and sound to my mother's place in North Dakota.
The morning I left Montana was an early morning with not much sleep. I never finished packing before I went to bed until 1 am. Typical, typical, typical.
Four hours later, at 5 am, I bolted straight up in bed when the alarm clock sounded. 
Just like in the movies! 
Four hours is not enough sleep, but I knew I could sleep on the train. 
"Julie", Amtrak's automated voice, said the train had made up time and was only a half hour late now, and "she" predicted it would arrive in Whitefish only a few minutes late. Darn. No extra sleeping for me.
It was a whirlwind of shaving and a shower and then packing the last minute food items from the refrigerator. I had called Bill to let him know the train was close to on time and also let him know it was snowing pretty good and he might want to allow for extra time to drive over to my place.
I was turning down the hot water heater temperature setting when Bill arrived almost 15 minutes early. I had lots of luggage and filled Bill's car. I am glad it was just him and I as any extra passenger would have had luggage in their lap.
Since Bill had arrived early it really was a whirlwind of last minute stuff: unplugging electrical items, removing batteries from clocks, etc., closing curtains, leaving the sinks' cupboard doors open, and turning off the well pump and closing its water valve. I hope I got everything done as I didn't have time to double check what I did or needed to do. On the train I did remember forgetting a few items and things to be done, and will have to call someone to complete one thing for me.
The snow was falling heavily as we drove to Whitefish. It was early and few cars were on the roads, which was good as the roads were slippery and Bill slid through one intersection before coming to a stop.
There were only a few people at the train station which was nice. The Amtrak baggage handler weighed my suitcases. My scale had said 50 lbs, 46 lbs, and 35 lbs. His scale said 51 lbs, 48 lbs, and 36 lbs. The luggage limit is 50 lbs.He asked if I could remove an item from the 51 lb suitcase and put in another suitcase. I told him the other suitcases were full, but if he insisted, I would remove an item and carry it on the train with me. But only one pound... surely that was close enough to the weight limit to be okay. I got him to accept my suitcase for what it was. When I picked up my suitcases in North Dakota I found the 51 lb suitcase had a "heavy" tag on it. Labeled!
Once at the station I found the train's arrival time to be almost half hour late. "Julie" was wrong when she claimed the train would make up time. Computers! Garbage in, garbage out.
Then the announcement the train wouldn't arrive until 8 am. At 8 am it was announced a track's switch was stuck west of town and the train would be delayed another 10 to 15 minutes. 15 minutes later another announcement that the switch was still stuck and it would be another 10 to 15 minutes.
Eventually it was announced the train would be arriving shortly, and once the ticket clerk/baggage handler closed his window and went outside we all did. "Shortly" was not the appropriate word as we all stood for a time in the falling snow. At least the temperature was near freezing so it wasn't cold.
Even with checking my three suitcases I still had plenty of carry-on luggage. Bill and I pushed two luggage carts through the snow and down the platform to where I felt I would board the train. When the train finally did arrive my guess was good as I was close to where I was to board the train.
Once Bill helped me load my bags, we said our goodbyes and he went over to meet a friend who was arriving on the same train. "Two birds with one stone!"
The train left Whitefish an hour and a half late.
My train car had plenty of people, even if most of the double seats were occupied by only one person. I was able to find two open seats, even if they were not ideal. The window frame was in the row breaking up the view outside. Later I wandered through the other cars and found they only were about a third full and had a number of double seats open with good window locations. I debated moving to the next car but decided to stay put. I was tired and would be sleeping, my neighbors were mostly quiet, and the guy in the seat behind me would be leaving the train at Malta.
Most of the travelers in my train car were heading to Chicago and points east. Even without looking at their seat tags I could tell they had that odd Eastern U.S. look, dress, and manner about them. The fellow in the row ahead of me was one example. While the indoor temperature aboard the train was fine, he - at all times - wore a hat, a lined hooded sweatshirt with the hood up and drawn close, and a long coat that went to his knees. All clothing items were zippered up and closed tight.
He was a smoker and when the stops were long enough for a smoke break, he gathered up his two large black plastic garbage bags with long handles on them whereby he would sling each bag's handle around each side of his neck. Each handle had duct tape added to make an larger and easier grip. He would stand on the train station platform with bags while smoking his cigarette and watching people. He looked and acted like some homeless person from Chicago.
He had a copy of the Kalispell newspaper and I asked if I could read the parts he wasn't reading. He looked surprised by my request, like I was trying to take his newspaper. He did let me read it. When I returned the paper he asked in which city the newspaper was printed as the paper is called, "The Daily Interlake".
He had a number of newspapers scattered on his seats and the floor. Later the train attendant wanted to clean up the messy pile of papers but he would have none of it.
I was very tired, and although the fresh snow falling on the mountains, rivers, and forests was very beautiful in the early dawn, I fell asleep after the train left West Glacier. I didn't wake up until we were near Marias Pass. While snow covered everything, it was merely pretty, and not very beautiful as earlier.
Prior to falling asleep I watched the falling snow and wished I was out cross-country skiing in it. The rivers were beautiful. The water was a pale to sometimes dark green. A cold color. The rapids were white to a greenish white. Every crook and cranny of the shoreline was easily identifiable due to the snow. All rocks in the river not covered by water were covered in white.
Even after waking near Marias Pass I still drifted in and out of sleep for a while. An hour of sleep added to my four hours was still not enough. I vaguely remember the Browning stop was quick, which was normal unlike last year with all the Indian students. When I checked my luggage I mentioned the students from last year and the baggage clerk told me he certainly remembered last year's troubles with them. He said they were scheduled for Friday after I left this year. I certainly hope Amtrak had a few more employees this year to handle their youthful energy.
By the time I woke up for good we were passing the Sweetgrass Hills. The hills (mountains anywhere else not near the Rocky Mountains) were outside the windows on my side of the train so I had a good view of them. Sometime I will take a vacation and travel among the three 'hills'.
Today the view of them was beautiful. While the view south of the train was a mix of gray as clouds often went to the ground due to rain or snow, the view north to the 'hills' was a mixture of blue sky and clouds as the checker-board farm tilled land stretched the many miles to the hills. The ground was mostly bare of snow now that we left the mountains and the checker-board look was yellow/brown and black, the Hills were partially snow covered and white.
It was the wide open Montana sky where one feels like they can see forever. Little clutters the landscape and one is inspired to travel to the horizon to see what lays beyond - as something must! It is similar to an ocean view and is why I like looking out over the ocean. Growing up on the prairie this is a view I am comfortable with and like; an uncluttered and open view.
The Sweetgrass Hills were partially in sunlight and partially in shadow. Very pretty. (...sorry, I didn't have a camera and therefore no photos of them.) The ends of long thin blue/grey clouds clung to the two highest peaks and looked to be steam from volcanos.
It took a long time to pass the Hills and I watched them to the NE, then North, then NW. Very pretty.
I chatted with a woman in the seats across the aisle. She was returning to a small town north of Minot after visiting her kids in the Seattle area. After 35 years of living in Seattle, several years ago she and her husband had moved back to North Dakota to be close to her father. He was 97 and still living in his home. She did not miss Seattle's rainy weather.
Then I settled down to reading. One of my bags - the heaviest one - was filled with newspapers and magazines. Time to make a dent in the pile. My trip flew by as I read and before I knew it we were in eastern Montana and the sun was setting.
In Malta I moved one row back and got seats with an unobstructed view, though by now my nose was buried in magazines. Time quickly passed and before I knew, it was dark outside. Then we were in Williston, ND.
A petite blonde boarded the train at Williston and took the seats in front of me. She seemed a little hyper. Before the train conductor came around to get her ticket she had left for the lounge car. The conductor had to track her down and she came back to her seat to get her ticket. She was going to Minneapolis. She said the last time she had taken the train between Williston and Minneapolis was 25 years ago when her son was two. Otherwise she had flown. She was kinda of twitchy with a cold personality, the result, perhaps, of living all these years in Minneapolis.
As we neared Minot I began to move my large heavy bags downstairs. The many magazines I had read and tossed and the food I ate didn't seem to have lightened the bags any.
By the time we entered Minot I had all my bags downstairs in preparation of leaving the train. Minot was a longer stop, a smoke stop. A black man in an unusually furry coat, and overweight Jewish woman, were standing downstairs waiting for the train to stop so they could go outside to 'get some fresh air' as the man said. Have a cigarette is more like it. It turns out they - not knowing one another - were both from Boston.
The train attendant, a somewhat big boned black woman, came downstairs before the train completely stopped in order to open the door after the train stopped. She said the previous week when she came through Minot it was an ungodly 20 F below zero. Looking out the window I said the roads looked and sounded (as she had opened the door's little window) wet so it must be close to the freezing mark. She told me "No. It was below zero!" meaning now.
"No. The roads are wet. Freezing is 32 degrees above zero, not below." I had been traveling all day on 5 hours sleep and not in a mood to keep quiet with someone stupidly correcting me. The Boston people didn't say anything. Else they had no clue, or only were thinking about their upcoming cigarettes.
The train attendant had no clue that the "freezing" temperature is 32 F above zero.
I spotted my brother's pickup near where I de-trained. My brother was looking for me at the other end of the station. I loaded all my carry-on bags into his pickup before he reached me. Once I retrieved my checked luggage from the luggage cart we were off to home. The train had arrived in Minot an hour late.
Now to work on reading all my old newspapers and magazines as I am not taking them back to Montana with me!
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