My dinner last night was a fine piece of halibut in the dining car. Dining on a train is a great experience; watching the world go by and the waiters managing to work from a tiny prep area and never spill anything while the train tosses about.
Train custom seats strangers together (that and a $5 tip brought Eve Marie Saint and Cary Grant together on the 20th Century Limited in North By Northwest) so I was at a table with another single guy, headed to Reno, and a couple headed to vacation in the Bay Area.
Amtrak does a decent job with dining car meals — better here on the Starlight than on the Southwest Chief I took last year.
After dinner it was back to the compartment for eerie nighttime views of snow-covered trees and frozen lakes. The storm covering the west coast had dumped more white stuff than was here last week.
Every once in awhile, the near full moon would pop through the clouds. The snow was everywhere: hanging from trees, clinging to the old telegraph wires running besides the tracks, covering the ground as virgin powder that would delight skiers.
But no ski areas here, no roads, no people, because over much of this route, it is alone. Quite a view as this traveler dozed off for the night.