Pittsburgh. A city where everything seems big.

After meandering my way here overland via Montreal with some freedom, I’ve been full on working.

Tonight a free evening and some wandering.  I stumble across an extraordinary old building positioned in what looks like a stage set in the shadow of sun soaking tower blocks. Beckert Seed and Bulb Co. A Disney film in the wings.

Nate happened to be sorting the rubbish. He ran with my fascination with this ‘out of/more than in’ place building.

“There’s the old speakeasy down there… You know. The illegal liquor sales… The door to the speakeasy is still there.”

The speakeasy.

We went and looked at the door down the alley way.

“So long ago now…” said Nate. Shaking his head. He went back to work.

I went back to my big hotel.

So I’m inviting the nerdier among you to join me on my last long distance journey on this mammoth North American trip. New York to Pittsburgh on an Amtrak train. Leaving New York Penn Station at 10.52am. Get some nosh in advance I’ve been advised. The train fare can be a bit limited.

Tim is the ticket inspector. With more than a hint of banter and humour.

“You think this is the first time my picture has been taken by someone from England?!” he asks, posing for a few pics like an old pro as the train bounces around the track a bit and he keeps blurring.

The train is well worn, comfy, spacious with a range of around the seat gadgets. A distant table, a foot rest attached to the seat in front moved with a foot pedal. Under each seat is a pull out chair extension so you can recline your chair and almost lay down with your legs stretched out. A shiny round black knob on the arm of the chair pings the extension back under the seat.

There’s plenty of room.

A dining car and free (speedy and largely consistent) wifi.

And wonderful views.

From the edges of New York city through villages of colourful wooden houses dotted around tree filled Pennsylvanian hills, the 400 or so mile journey takes nine hours. Its a relaxed pace, slow to middling. Allowing time to soak up the changing scenery. Read, work. Think.

A bit of excitement mid afternoon. Tim’s replacement, a similarly comedic, big voiced, kindly woman, marches into our nearly empty carriage.

“Now listen up everyone. I have an announcement to make! Are you listening? I have something important to say!”

Crumbs. What’s happened? The six or seven of us left after the mass exodus at Philadelphia station a few hours earlier poke our heads out from our by now, personalised spaces. Footrests up or at ease. Seats reclined. Full body sleepage on the go.

“A couple of people have reported the smell of smoke in this carriage. Yes. Smoke. Now if I catch anyone smoking I will toss them off the train at the next station. Got it?”

We nod. Feeling guilty. She marches out of the carriage with a flourish and a cheeky smirk.

Early evening, more excitement. An unexpected announcement over the tannoy. We’re about to approach the ‘world famous horseshoe curve’. Time to look out of the left hand side of the train. Wow. One for the serious train buff maybe but it’s pretty cool. It takes me back to the days of wooden toy train track building with the obligatory figure of eight curves. We never had enough pieces for a horseshoe.

We settle back in our various spaces. The sun slowly sets and by Johnstown it’s dark. The industrial approach to Pittsburgh reduced to chaotic lights in blackness.

Time for a cheeky bottle of the local brew, Yeungling, from the dining car. And to reflect on the humanity both generated by and captured on public transport.

Staying at the Pine View Motel. Motel life. A glimpse of a pool here through the window and beyond, Saco Avenue, the main road between Old Orchard and Saco. I worked, Skyped, went to the laundrette [exceptional] at lunchtime and late afternoon walked the beach.

I walked the other way under the pier this evening towards Brunswick. Sea gulls stood almost to attention with a haughtiness along the beach while tiny (groups/gaggles/ chatters?) of sand pipers (I think with a quick google) added a joyous layer of fun and playfulness. Tripping over themselves without touching, chasing and ducking the waves.

I met Pretzer (or Prezzer) and his owner. A dog who loves the beach.

At JJs Eatery, where I ate, Halloween preparation was underway with serious attention.

On the way back to the motel I passed Lisa’s Pizza. Squaring, or circling the Old Orchard Beach experience. A place where you can order a pizza and someone will deliver it and wait. No stops necessary.

Quiet day in Old Orchard Beach. Skype calls, work in my motel room and a walk along the beach late afternoon where some nifty painters were busy at work in the sky.

I had dinner in Strike Zone, sitting next to Peter who was carving an enormous piece of meat for an ‘all you can eat’ buffet. Another deadpan legend.

“The pumpkin mash is amazing. Did you make it?”
“Nah. None of it”.

Custom was steady with a few rules in operation.

“You need a clean plate.”
“This one’s fine.”
“No you need a clean plate. It’s the rules.”
“Ah. I’m all for rules.”

I started to take some pictures.

“Where are you from?” He asked.
“Oxford, England.”
“We had someone from Manchester the other week. He really loved the pickles. ‘I love the pickles so much!’ he said.”
“That’s cool. Is that beef?”
“Yep. Prime rib beef. All you can eat. On Fridays it’s all you can eat haddock.”
“Wow.”
“Make sure you take a photo of Eric Spoonton.”
“Who?”
“Eric Spoonton. Like Eric Clapton.”
“Ok.”

So I’m inviting the nerdier among you to join me on my last long distance journey on this mammoth North American trip; New York to Pittsburgh on an Amtrak train. Leaving New York Penn Station at 10.52am. Get some nosh in advance I’ve been advised. The train fare can be a bit limited.

The ticket inspector is a cheerful Tim. With more than a hint of banter and humour.

“You think this is the first time my picture has been taken by someone from England?!” he asks, posing for a few pics like an old pro as the train bounces around the track a bit and he blurs.

The train is well worn, comfy, spacious with a range of around the seat gadgets. A distant table, a foot rest attached to the seat in front moved with a foot pedal. Under each seat is a pull out chair extension so you can recline your chair and almost lay down with your legs stretched out. A shiny round black knob on the arm of the chair pings the extension back under the seat.

There’s plenty of room.

A dining car and free (speedy and largely consistent) wifi.

And wonderful views.

From the edges of New York city through villages of colourful wooden houses dotted around tree filled Pennsylvanian hills, the 400 or so mile journey takes nine hours. Its a relaxed pace, slow to middling. Allowing time to soak up the changing scenery. Read, work. Think.

A bit of excitement mid afternoon. Tim’s replacement, a similarly comedic, big voiced, kindly woman, marches into our nearly empty carriage.

“Now listen up everyone. I have an announcement to make! Are you listening? I have something important to say!”

Crumbs. What’s happened? The six or seven of us left after the mass exodus at Philadelphia station a few hours earlier poke our heads out from our by now, personalised spaces.

“A couple of people have reported the smell of smoke in this carriage. Yes. Smoke. Now if I catch anyone smoking I will toss them off the train at the next station. Got it?”

We nod. Feeling guilty. She marches out of the carriage with a flourish and a cheeky smirk.

Early evening, more excitement. An unexpected announcement over the tannoy. We’re about to approach the ‘world famous horseshoe curve’. Time to look out of the left hand side of the train. Wow. One for the serious train buff maybe but it’s pretty cool. It takes me back to the days of wooden toy train track building with the obligatory figure of eight curves. We never had enough pieces for a horseshoe.

We settle back in our various spaces. The sun slowly sets and by Johnstown it’s dark. The industrial approach to Pittsburgh reduced to chaotic lights in blackness.

Time for a cheeky bottle of the local brew, Yeungling, from the dining car. And to reflect on the humanity both generated by and captured on public transport.