Finally the radio announcement came through that the flagmen had been notified that the buses were properly chained up and should have been allowed to proceed. The passengers erupted with wild applause! Both buses now needed to continue west toward Colfax until we could reach an exit to turn around and get back on the eastbound lanes.
A few cars got between the two buses in the process. The other bus was less than three or four minutes ahead of us. However, between the critical minutes when that bus passed the checkpoint and we got there ... I-80 was closed to all traffic due to the heavy snowfall ahead. The hostages (I mean passengers) agreed this had to be just a matter of waiting for snowplows or maybe an escort behind a CHP (California Highway Patrol) car. We waited a very long time, but eventually the Amtrak dispatcher radioed and declared that our trip was cancelled; we had to return to Sacramento.
A couple people begged the driver to open the doors and let the braver souls make a break for it on foot, but he mumbled something about rules and regulations, and otherwise ignored the request. As tempting as the prospect seemed, I failed to pack a pair of snowshoes or a team of sled dogs, so it was probably for the best that the temptation was never really an option.
It took additional time to maneuver the bus over to an open space in the right-hand lane so we could get off and turn around yet once again. Several people whipped their phones to their ears, trying to book seats on Friday’s train, instead of the bus, but it was already sold out. Everyone was calling family and friends to update them on the latest development.
As soon as my feet hit the ground in Sacramento, I dashed inside the depot to the ticket window (well, maybe 'dashed' isn’t exactly an accurate image, since I was towing my luggage along like a forgotten anchor) and got in line to reserve a space on the first bus out the next morning. Since the train was already sold out, I was determined I’d get one of the last seats on the bus. I figured I’d be spending most the night on a hard bench in the Amtrak station, but it didn’t matter; I was on a mission and going to make another hard run at that mountain!
As I inched my way forward in the line a woman approached and asked if she could cut ahead of me and under normal circumstances I would have replied, "Sure. I’m in no hurry. I’m going to be here all night, you go ahead." But I turned, looked over my shoulder at the lengthy string of travelers patiently waiting behind me and said, "Sorry. You aren’t just asking to get in front of me. You’re trying to get in front of all those people, too."
I handed the ticket agent my tickets and stubs, wearily explaining, "I just got off the bus that didn’t make it to Reno." He was obviously fully informed and expecting a barrage of disappointed travelers. After sympathetically surveying the information in front of him and checking the computer, he offered, "I can still get you on the train to Modesto."
Totally unprepared for that 'solution', I shook my head, "No, I want on the first bus to Reno tomorrow."
"All Amtrak buses for tomorrow have already been canceled," he broke the news apologetically. It dawned on me that the reason for the cancellations were because the bus that was supposed to leave Reno to Sacramento was still stuck in Nevada, and the extra bus that got through ahead of us was also now trapped there. It would probably take a couple days (of decent weather) to get everything all straightened out again.
I turned and glanced at the clock on the station wall and (being familiar with the train schedules) replied, "The train to Modesto that leaves here in five minutes?" The ticket agent nodded affirmatively. "Book it!"
It didn’t escape my notice that if I had politely allowed that one woman to get in line ahead of me, I wouldn’t have made the last southbound train of the day. I galloped outside clutching my complimentary ticket in one fist, luggage bouncing along across driveways, platforms and tracks. I was completely focused on Track 2 and made it aboard my train with precious little time to spare. I located a seat and plugged my cell phone into an outlet (the battery was running dangerously low after more than 100 text messages and several phone calls to both Reno and my husband, trying to keep all parties informed). I phoned my son and all the emotion of the day finally caught up with me; on the verge of tears, told him I wasn’t going to make it. I can’t begin to describe my utter disappointment. Then I called my husband and said, "Guess what? I’m on the train to Modesto and will be home in an hour and a half." Now it was his turn to scramble and find a volunteer to pick me up at the depot. Just to add one final insult to the journey, the train was delayed in Lodi for 15-20 minutes while the Union Pacific finished up a little track work.
Eleven hours and forty-five minutes had lapsed from the time I left home that morning until I walked back through the door that evening. I was back at square one, down-hearted and exhausted. One thought kept popping into my head, "I certainly over packed for this trip!"
©2011 Roberta McReynolds for SeniorWomen.com
Images from Wikipedia: West Portal http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Donner_Pass" target="_blank" title="West Portal Summit Tunnel of Donner Pass">Summit Tunnel, (Composite image with the tracks removed in 1993 "digitally" restored) and Snowshoe
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