I Forgot to Pack Snowshoes

The doors slide apart and I’m off! Any similarity to a sleek thoroughbred ends here as I lumber down the ramp with my eyes glued to the line of waiting buses, weaving and dodging between the clusters of drifting travelers.

Other trains and buses have already come and gone; these last buses are loaded and the drivers waiting for this final surge of dazed humanity from my train trying to make various connections. I glanced around at the disappearing empty seats and calculated, from experience, that my plan to travel on Thursday to avoid a crowd was apparently not an original idea.

As my bus approached the Sacramento station, the driver announced the destinations of another set of waiting buses by the numbered stall where they are parked and train connections. I expertly retrieved my suitcase from the baggage compartment where the driver stowed it an hour ago and scrambled onto the next bus for the final stage of my trip, taking me into the arms of waiting loved ones. The bus was almost full, but I still had a seat to myself, so I was content. Well, it would have been better if the two men seated in front of me didn’t have their seats laid back in my lap, but I wasn’t going to allow anything to deflate my mood.

So many people were traveling that day, it was necessary to add a second bus to the schedule. The extra bus would trail behind us making all the regular stops in Roseville, Rocklin, Auburn, Colfax and Truckee. My bus was going to go straight through to Reno non-stop!

It began snowing as we drove through Auburn. Somewhere between there and Colfax the driver pulled over to put on snow chains. I sent my son a text message, commenting on the big snowflakes. His response (not as excited as mine) was, "Snow already? That’s not good."

The driver struggled with the chains a bit, but we were still on schedule and we didn’t have to make all those other regular stops. Sure, we’d only be traveling 30 mph now, but getting there a tad late didn’t dampen my spirits. The momentous day wasn’t until tomorrow and I had plenty of time.

Traffic was moving along smoothly; snowplows could be seen working to stay ahead of the accumulating snow. Somewhere past Colfax is a little town called Dutch Flat and beyond that a Caltrans (California Department of Transportation) checkpoint had been set up. Two workers wearing orange vests were slowing vehicles down to inspect for chains and one of them flagged our bus over to the center median. The flagman informed our driver that he needed to have chains on the inside tires, as well as the outside ones. Our driver explained that was a physical impossibility and that Amtrak had a notification directly from Caltrans explaining winter procedures, including why buses were exempt. (Please note: that’s a polite, condensed version of the actual exchange between them.) Our fuming driver radioed the Amtrak dispatcher in Sacramento, who proceeded to attempt to phone Caltrans to correct their misinformed employees. However, Caltrans wasn’t answering their phone or checking messages. Eventually the flagman said we couldn’t sit there blocking the road and needed to turn around and go back to Sacramento.

Our driver pulled off at the next exit in Alta, then got back on westbound Interstate-80 and parked off to the side of the highway at Dutch Flat and waited for instructions from the Amtrak dispatcher. (I feel the need to interject my personal opinion that our driver should have just made a run for the border and kept right on going, but I guess that was just too 'Hollywood' for him.) More than an hour passed and the snowfall was drifting more heavily as time went on. The extra Amtrak bus that had been trailing behind us making all those time-consuming scheduled stops eventually caught up and was also flagged over. Following directions from our driver, it turned around, located us, pulled off the highway, and parked directly in front of our bus to join the waiting game.

As we sat there, some of the riders swapped seats and I noticed a pair of empty seats on the other side of the bus. I squeezed my way out from behind the reclining men in front of me and contentedly settled in my much more comfortable territory.

I was, by now, quite grateful for following my impulse to purchase a sandwich earlier that morning, which I ate as discreetly as possible. I wish I had added another bottle of water though. I began rationing my intake even though I was feeling dehydrated from sitting cooped up in a stuffy bus with the heater running for so long. I wasn’t alone, because suddenly about five or six of us spontaneously blurted out in unison, "Turn the heater off!"

My fellow travelers were probably some of the best I’ve ever encountered. They kept their spirits up and really didn’t complain beyond voicing mild concerns over the outcome. There were also some young children on board who were remarkably well-mannered, and never whined or fussed. As a rule, restrooms on the bus aren’t very appealing, but we all sure appreciated it as the hours passed.

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I Forgot to Pack Snowshoes

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