The South West Chief and the Mid-West

The train journey from Los Angeles to Chicago, called the South West Chief, must be one of the most epic train journeys in the World. It stretches over 2256 miles and 8 States, takes 43 hours in total and encompasses some of the most spectacular and diverse scenery in America, from the rock formations of Arizona, the native American reservations of New Mexico, through the mountains of Colorado, where the rocky valley walls seem to almost brush the panoramic windows of the observation car, to the vast great plains of the mid-west where spectacular sunsets illuminate big skies and where small clouds, like bursting fireworks frozen in time, are caught by the sun’s dying rays. As I’m heading for Dodge City, the journey is only 28 hours. It is fantastic to sit and watch the beautiful landscape roll by, mile after mile and to chat with the other passengers. I talk mainly to Jonas, a creative strategist, who has abandoned the artistic restrictions of corporate life for a while and is working on a number of photographic projects and Nancy, who lives in Henderson, near Las Vegas, who supports Donald Trump and is against any form of gun control. Later we are joined by Sam, from the UK, who is a music engineer and graphic designer. I ask him where he comes from and he says Swindon. When he asks me where I come from, I smile and say Swindon! How crazy a coincidence is that? Of all the trains in all the world, we happen to be on this one! He lives in the Old Town, which of course I know very well. Together with Jonas we dine together in the buffet car and exchange contact details. Mid-way through Sam writing his last name, Widd.. I immediately know what he’s going to write. Widdowson. I ask if his Father’s name is Richard. He says yes. Shit! I used to hang around with Richard Widdowson in my mid-teens! I have no idea what the probability of that happening is, but I probably have more chance of winning the lottery. Or perhaps the whole of history has conspired to create that very moment? Who knows? Whatever the reason, the meeting was a bit surreal and strange!

I arrive at Dodge, a mid-West cattle and cowboy town, at 2am and walk the mile or so to the hotel I have booked for the following night (well, strictly speaking tonight, but not yesterday), following the 4 lane highway to the edge of town, past some closed and some open fast food outlets and squat, flat-roofed restaurants, garages and patches of waste ground which back onto the railway track. For some reason I find landscapes of featureless urban impersonality quite comforting. I had planned to spend the night at the station, but they have closed it and I am really tired, so I take a chance that there will be a vacancy. Fortunately there is. I don't think there is anyone else staying.  

Dodge is situated in a vast expanse of nothing much. It has an interesting museum, located on the original Boot Hill cemetery and contains a reconstruction of the cowboy High Street of the 1870’s when Wyatt Earp was a Deputy Marshall here. It includes various shops and a saloon where you can buy a beer. I take a trolley bus tour to the original Fort Dodge, where General Custer stayed for a while before going off to kill Native Americans. On the way, we pass mile upon mile upon mile of cattle pens, where cattle are fattened before being slaughtered. At the centre is a National Beef processing facility, where up to 6000 cattle are ‘processed’ each day. I’m told the stench in Dodge from the factory, perhaps 5 miles away, can be overpowering on some days. The people in Dodge are very friendly, saying hello as I pass and are very curious about my accent. Despite the killing fields, which cast a dark shadow in my mind, I like the friendly intimacy of the place and the wide open, blue skies.

Two days later, for strange reasons to do with physically having to obtain tickets from a manned station for my onward journey to Charleston, via Chicago and Washington DC, I find myself in Newton, Kansas. I arrive at 4am and I need to depart at 4am the following morning, so I have a full 24 hours in a town with a population of around 30,000 people. This should be interesting! One of the passengers I descend the train with suggests getting the bus to Wichita, which is round 40 minutes away, but I decide to see what this small town has to offer. Surprisingly, I’m now really glad that I decided to stay. I get talking to the station attendant about travelling and he describes his past adventures in London and other parts of Europe. Before I know it, it’s 6.30am and he directs me to an early morning breakfast place, The Breadbasket, where I am greeted by a sincerely friendly blonde lady and I get a very good buffet breakfast. Then I walk up and down Main Street and around town for a few hours, taking pictures of doors and chatting to a couple of people in the Catholic Church until I stumble cross the Rewards Bookshop. Here I am helped in my selection of books by Mary-Anne, a retired librarian, who enquires about my travels and also makes suggestions on places I might find interesting in town, including a free, self-guided walking tour and the inside of a law firm building. Given I have gone around 24 hours without sleep at this point, she also offers me a chair to sleep in, if I need it, which, although I decline, is a really very nice offer! A couple of people stop me in the street, curious about the guide I’m following and are surprised that there is such a thing, but that then prompts questions about where I’m from and what I’m doing here, which is great. Whilst following the guide, I do indeed call in at the Cornerstone law firm and the owner, Steve Johnson, completely unprompted, offers to give me a guided tour of this beautiful building that used to be the town post-office, including a look at photographs prior to the renovation. His enthusiasm for the building that he is slowly restoring to its original style as a labour of love is great and conversation turns later to politics and gun-control and travels in Australia as part of his charity work. It is a very interesting insight into the difficulties and rewards of conservation and into the psychology behind the right to bear arms. Later still, I visit a local art shop and the owner suggests stopping at the local museum and art gallery, which I do and in the evening I get chatting to the very funny and outgoing Chef at Reba’s Bar and Restaurant, where I eat and have a few beers. Despite misgivings at the start of my extended stay in a very small town in the back of beyond, it was in fact a very fascinating and enjoyable experience with very friendly and hospitable people. If Dodge and Newton are representative (and I’m surprised to hear myself say this), I do like small-town, mid-west America.

Train to Chicago: New Mexico

 

Albuquerque

Lamy Station: Rush hour commuters jostle to get on the next train

Observation Car, under observation

Great Plains

Stunning sunsets and big skies!

My Classic Motel in Dodge. I didn't get the rude desk person in a stained vest, but you can't have everything!

Dodge Museum

Dodge itself

Cattle being fattened for slaughter stretch into the distance

Beef 'processing'

Dodge City Railway Station

Newton Kansas Railway Station

Masonic Lodge doorway

Main Street

Roman Catholic Church, with essential accessory

Elegant Chamber of Commerce Building

Police Department (Skateboard chasing division)

Old Post Office

Old Post Boxes, with security locks

Is it Safe?

Post Office Counter, now the reception area

Big Mill