About mid October of last year my little brother Ben sent me a YouTube video of this Spanish chick and her American boyfriend, Bobby, who take the Amtrak California Zephyr line from Chicago to San Francisco. She narrates their trip and seems a little too enthusiastic about the folding hooks in the sleeping car (first class, btw) and how the little shelves become steps to the upper bunk. When the train pulls them by Bobby’s hometown she declares him to be “Happy Bobby. Look at Happy Bobby.”

This was just the push we needed. We had been talking about taking a train trip, and the bonus of ending with a few nights in San Fransisco sealed the deal.

So we hopped on a Southwest flight to Denver to catch the Amtrak California Zephyr the following morning.

I hadn’t been to Denver since pre-COVID and most of the restaurants I remembered on Larimer Square had closed. We settled on a place called Tamayo. It always seems silly to me to eat Mexican food in another city when we have so many amazing Tex-Mex restaurants in Dallas but Tamayo was a delicious surprise.

We toasted to our upcoming trip with eleven dollar margaritas.

How on Earth does a restaurant stay in business selling margaritas for only eleven bucks?

Our Denver Hotel promised a car service to drive us to the Denver Union Station, at least the website AND night clerk both made that promise. It was a different story coming from the 6 am desk clerk, she could not honor that promise. In fact she didn’t know why the night clerk would tell us that at all – she was the only one on staff at that time of the morning. Luckily it was only a 10 minute walk to the station, and an absolutely beautiful morning to boot. 

Plus we got to walk up to the sunrise lit Denver Union Station.

We grabbed a quick breakfast at Snooze – inside/outside of the Denver Union Station. Highly recommend this place; pineapple upside down pancakes, crab cake Benedict, and sweet potato pancakes should grease your wheels. Especially if you have an 8:15 AM train departure, like we did.

The Amtrak California Zephyr is actually a combination of a few different routes. The original California Zephyr was privately owned and ran a slightly different route through just Nevada and California. The current Amtrak route runs 2,400 miles, about 51.5 hours, between Chicago and Emeryville, Ca.- just across the bay from San Francisco. This is the second longest line that Amtrak runs. We caught up with it about a quarter into its trip.

The YouTube chick and Happy Bobby gushed over the luxuriousness of the train. We mocked her every time we discovered a new light switch, “Happy Bobby!”, the single electrical outlet for two adults with three devices each, or the 4-inch wide closet, “Happy Bobby!”

Our berth was fine, trust me.

Fine, but 2 inches of foam mattress are far from luxurious.

My brother Ben had served in the navy on the USS Constellation, and he swears that his military rack (1 of 3 bunk beds stacked) was larger than what we had in our Amtrak-provided, fist class coffin.

In all honesty, the inside of the train didn’t matter so much because as we slowly ascended into the Rockies, the views grew more and more than spectacular.

This was what it was all about.

The views did not disappoint.

Most of the time that we wound through the Rockies we hugged the Colorado river where we saw deer, caribou, a fox, a mountain goat, and even 3 bald eagles…. One of which was catching a fish.

I shit you not.

I watched a friggin’ bald eagle swoop down from the sky and jerk a fish out of the Colorado river.

Here’s an interesting factoid; people like to moon trains as they pass. Every time we saw a group of fishermen, or rafters, it was a guarantee that at least one on them would bend over and show us their…. ummm…. bare cheeks.

I had no idea.

First class meals were served in the dining car, at shared tables. Even if there were empty tables, the hostess would still wrangle us all together. It was a great way to meet the people traveling with us, most of which were veterans.

The menu looked pretty good but only half of it was available… something about a broken griddle.

Dinner was by far the best Amtrak meal, they gave us actual dishes and real metal silverware for that one; started with Caprese skewers and coconut shrimp…

Couldn’t get a grilled steak, like “Happy Bobby” did, but the Salmon with couscous was delcious.

Desert was a pretty decent cheesecake…

The sweeping views of northern Utah were the perfect compliment to the meal.

You know, aside from the occasional bare butt.

We returned to our berth to find that our red cap attendant had already prepared us for bedtime… at 7:45.

With no internet – did I mention that the train was without WiFi? because it was – and nothing to look at outside the windows except the pitch black Utah night, bedtime seemed like a decent option.

In the morning we found the train much lighter. While we were “sleeping” (a term I use loosely) we stopped in Provo and Salt Lake, relieving the train of several tour groups headed to Yellowstone.

This left the observation car nearly empty. It seems the second class passengers, the ones who paid for only a single seat, would camp out in the observation car and occupy 2 seats; one for themselves and a second for their luggage.

But now it was nearly barren and we had a perfect view of northern Nevada.

You may ask ,”With no wifi and spotty cel signals, what on earth did you boys talk about for 36 hours?” We talked about everything. Ben mostly talked about history, and anyone who’s ever spent more than 20 minutes alone with me knows that they will hear more about American glass Christmas ornaments than anyone could ever want to know. 

Just ask my coworkers.

Northern California still had snow on the ground. A LOT of snow.

The Zephyr hit Emeryville just about 2 hours late because there hade been two medical emergencies along the route. We watched as one person was removed from the train strapped to a gurney. Our train conductor apologized for the “Mur…ehh…medical emergencies” and we both began to wonder just how rough was it at the back end of the train in steerage?

It was just a quick Uber over the Bay Bridge…

to our hotel by the Pier, the Hotel Zephyr.

If you’re keeping track, our train was the Zephyr and our hotel was also the Zephyr.

Pure coincidence.

Quirky hotel but we both liked it. How could we not? We each had a king size bed and a private bathroom, this place was the Ritz Carlton compared to the past 39 hours.

Visiting Alcatraz has always been a goal of mine. The few other times I’ve been in San Fransisco I was working and there just wasn’t time for a visit, plus the tours sell out weeks in advance. No worries this time because Ben booked tickets months ahead of our trip.

It was just a 15 minute boat ride across the San Francisco Bay to the island – which is just under a mile and a half. In the history of Alcatraz no escapee has been able to swim this distance; at least none that have been verified as surviving the cold water and strong currents. It doesn’t look that far to me. If 14 year-old Boy Scouts are required to swim a mile for their swimming merit badge then I think that I could make it….

If I had a wet suit,

and I was still in my 20’s.

But I’m pretty sure that I could make that swim.

Alcatraz Island is a small island just slightly more than a mile offshore from San Francisco. In the mid-19th century the island was developed into a fortress, complete with lighthouse and military prison, to defend the San Francisco Bay Area. In 1934 the island was converted into Alcatraz Federal Penitentiary. The strong current and icy-cold water temperatures made escape from the island “nearly” impossible. Upkeep from the daily saltwater beatings the structures took outweighed the cost of maintaining the facility and Attorney General Bobby Kennedy closed the prison in 1963.

If you go, I highly recommend that you take the audio tour. The narrators – former guards and inmates – guide you through the prison building with stories of notorious residents, riots, and breakouts – some successful.

The island, now a national park, was surprisingly beautiful – covered in succulents and agave. Unfortunately it also was nesting season for the bay area sea birds. Some were a little aggressive and hissed at us to stay away… which wasn’t a problem since most of the bird infested areas of the island reeked of sulphur and dead fish.

Our hotel was just across the street from Pier 39 so we waddled over to check out the seal lions.

The sea lions first appeared at the pier in 1989 just after an earthquake. Sea lions are opportunistic and found the San Francisco Bay to be a pretty decent place to live; where they are a protected species, with plenty of food and no natural predators – which, aside from orcas, is mostly just human interference. At one point there were over a thousand settled amongst the touristy restaurants an tchotchke shops but now the pack seems to be a steady 93.

Since we didn’t do quite enough walking on Alcatraz Island to make up for that veal-feeding-pen of a train car, we thought we’d get in a few more steps for the week and walk across the Golden Gate Bridge.

The Golden Gate Bridge opened in 1937 and spans the 1.7 miles between San Francisco and Marin County. It’s highest point is 746 feet and the clearance below is 220 feet. Ben tells me that when he was in San Francisco for “Fleet Week” that his aircraft carrier had to wait until low tide to pass under it.

We passed maybe 15 people, most on bikes, on our walk across.

There was a policeman patiently stationed in the middle of the bridge as a suicide deterant. That was unexpected…. and dark.

He’s an interesting factoid that I did not know until this trip; the bridge was painted red so that it can be seen through the notoriously thick bay-area fog by oncoming boats or, heaven forbid, planes.

Perfectly beautiful weather for the Angus boys though.

On our last night of the trip, before our 10:30 am flight back to Dallas, we celebrated in the Tonga Room at the Fairmont Hotel.

We honestly followed a couple of tipsy girls from Austin to this hidden gem of a tiki bar.

Two of Ben’s most favorite things are “tiki culture” – the cocktail/entertaining style boomed after US vets returned from being stationed in the South Pacific – and Sailor Jerry. And two of my most favorite things are strong cocktails and Hawaiian shirts.

We found all that and more at the Tonga Room.

The Tonga Room & Hurricane Bar is a restaurant and tiki bar located in the Fairmont Hotel in San Francisco. Although it was named after the South Pacific nation of Tonga, the menu encompasses many different South Pacific and Asian cultures. In 1945, the Tonga Room replaced the Terrace Plunge, an indoor swimming pool that was installed in the Fairmont in 1929. The pool never left, it simply became the Tonga Room’s “lagoon”…. where it rains every 15 minutes – complete with thunder and lightening.

We sat pool-side, er, lagoon-side.

We enjoyed a Pacific delicacy called a “Pu-Pu” platter. It was the only way to get the house-made Spam. And we were not leaving until we tasted that. (Spam, short for “spiced ham”, was one of the lasting influences that American G.I.s had on tiki culture.)

It was delish,

So was everything else on the sampler; spring rolls, edamame, tuna tostadas.

We also tried the warm creamy coconut curry; with scallops, muscles, and calamari.

Also delish.

We toasted a “Zombie” and a “Fog Hunter” to the end of an absolutely amazing trip.

Maybe it was the house band belting out Toto’s “Africa”. (my ringtone, btw)

Maybe it was decor designed by an actual Disney imagineer.

Maybe it was because our stuffed bellies were topped off with mango panna cotta.

But Ben declared that this, this moment right here, was his best “Happy Bobby” moment of the trip.

I couldn’t agree more.

Happy Bobby, indeed.