I had many reasons for wanting to visit the USA in April 2018, and one of those reasons was to experience the railways of (part of) the United States. The main reason was, of course, to visit my friend, Sylwia, and her lovely family, but wasn’t it convenient that they all lived a short distance from a railway station?

“New York?”, people said to me, “surely you can’t get there by train!” Well, as it turned out, I could. After searching for flights on the useful http://www.skyscanner.net, I discovered that the cheapest route across the Atlantic was to fly, via Paris, to Montreal in Canada, and then to return nine days later from New York JFK to London, again via Paris. As it turned out, strikes in France caused me to be re-routed to a direct Air Canada flight from Heathrow to Montreal – so sometimes these things work in your favour.

After arriving in Montreal, a bus and a (wholly unnecessary but rather interesting) metro ride took me to the luxurious Novotel hotel in the city centre, where thanks to a parishioner who works for Accor Hotels, I was able to get an excellent rate. An evening exploring the city (well the Catholic Cathedral and the rail station) gave me the chance to practice my pretty fantastic French language skills – and the locals a chance to practice their rather more fantastic English.

The next day my adventure really began, as I waited to board Amtrak’s (the US version of British Rail) ‘Adirondack’ train to New York Penn Station. This would be an eleven hour trip over the St. Lawrence Seaway, across the US border at Rousses Point, and along the shores of Lake Champlain, and finally down the Hudson Valley into the heart of New York City.

Boarding long-distance trains in North America is rather more of a palaver than in Europe. The American enthusiasm for queuing was clearly in evidence as I joined a long line that snaked across the subterranean concourse of Montreal’s Gare Centrale (the station is set, like a sausage in a toad in the hole, in the midst of a giant underground shopping centre). Eventually we were let down onto the platform  where some rather bossy staff (I would encounter rather a lot of these over the next few days) were directing passengers to the front of the train (for intermediate stations) or to the rear (for those going ‘all the way’).

The train itself resembled a grounded 1970s airliner, with an unusal curved body, small windows, and steel bodywork, but the interior, although rather dated, was very luxurious. The seats were large and comfortable, with generous legroom and an ample recline. Electrical sockets, fold down tables, and footrests gave the carriage the feel of business class in a Boeing 707.

After setting off and emerging from the depths of the central station, we picked up speed across the St. Lawrence Seaway and on towards the border. I had wisely picked a seat in the coach adjacent to the buffet car, a place that I would, as you might expect, be visiting often. The buffet can best be described as British Rail InterCity in the 1980s, as many of the old favourites, such as microwaved cheeseburgers, giant chocolate chip cookies, and a rather unusual ‘steak’ sandwich that was actually full of cold chicken were on sale as decidedly modern-day prices.

The journey was largely spent reading, enjoying the absolutely beautiful scenery,  visiting the buffet car – and often doing all three at once. Although the train would arrive a bit late into New York, the time passed very quickly and thus it didn’t feel like a long ride. There were some amazing views to be had from the rear door as we sped along the shore of Lake Champlain, and the 110 mph dash north of Albany was also quite a surprise.

Due to the lateness of the train, it was dark as we headed down the Hudson Valley, and even darker as we dropped into the endless tunnels under Haarlem, where the line to Penn Station diverged from the route into Grand Central. New York’s Pennsylvania Station was definitely not grand, though it was very central, and was a lot like Birmingham New Street.

After finding my way to the concourse and buying a ticket, my journey continued by local train to Summit station, where at the end of the platform, Sylwia who I had not seen for a year and a half, was waiting for me.