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Hans, I am enjoying the chronicles of your adventure with Greyhound, but it seems to differ quite a lot
from the claims made by Greyhound President and CEO Dave Leach
(who released a press release reacting to the back-handed comments that Alex Baldwin made about travelling by bus)
- see this story:
Seems you should contact the CEO of Greyhound and point out some of your adventures
- maybe you will get a chance to get a free ride
(then again, you may not want to win that prize!! )
Kerry, The CEO of American Greyhound should do the same trip I did and then we could compare notes (if he would be honest). I know one thing - he wouldnt do the trip without at least two bodyguards. Im not being totally candid with my account. I left out some of the more grosser or violent incidents on purpose. I would not recommend American Greyhound to anyone, in fact -- PASSENGER BEWARE! Let me clarify - the difference between Canadian Greyhound and American Greyhound is night and day. If Canadian Greyhound is like being driven in a Cadillac, some of American Greyhound is like being driven in a 20 year old, unsafe school bus with no springs. There is no consistency across the US with Greyhound.
Thank you, Hans, for these harrowing tales. You are an intrepid traveller. My last major US Greyhound (the Dog) bus trip was in 1985, and I passed through some of the same cities. I did not think very highly of the experience at the time, but it was definitely milder than what you have gone through.
Other (i.e., not the Dog) better means of travel include: train (i.e., Amtrak), other bus lines (sometimes Amtrak. Going to Seattle from Vancouver there is Quick Shuttle), ferries (Sidney to Anacortes on Washington State Ferries, or Victoria to Seattle on the Victoria Clipper or Princess, or Victoria to Port Angeles on the Black Ball), bicycling or even hitchhiking. Actual Mexican buses up until quite recently were also better than the Dog. With the cartel wars going on, I'm not so sure. Stories of stickups on those buses. I haven't taken a Mexican bus in, oh, four years. For trips of up to 62 miles (100 kill-o-meats) and two people, a Mexican taxi is reasonably economical and saves time. I haven't hitched in the USA in many years, but I do notice that hh'ing is no longer illegal in Washington State (maybe that was just a rumour), but mainly illegal on Washington's Interstate Highways, which is just common sense, eh?
Heinlein was rather fond / proud of Kansas City, Kansas.
Didnt really get to see Kansas City (and would like to on a future trip). I think in future I will mix airline deals with shorter trips, if need be, on the bus. It just takes a lot more advance planning. Question - Jonathan, next time Im thinking of doing a trip on the Chihuahua Pacific Railway. You've travelled a lot in Mexico - have you recently? - any tips?
Didnt really get to see Kansas City (and would like to on a future trip). I think in future I will mix airline deals with shorter trips, if need be, on the bus. It just takes a lot more advance planning. Question - Jonathan, next time Im thinking of doing a trip on the Chihuahua Pacific Railway. You've travelled a lot in Mexico - have you recently? - any tips?
Hans, in almost 40 years of travel in Mexico, I have never managed to take a train, though I have tried. Oaxaca to Mexico City, I was unable to find a place to buy tickets! (in other words, the ticket wicket was always closed). Anyway, your planned trip to the Copper Canyon is the number one train destination in Mexico. For general info and "on the ground" alerts, I'd use the internet, among which this: Chapala Forum is well-attended and reasonably reliable.
I've never been to either Kansas City, but the 1985 trip did take me through Amarillo, Lubbock, and Denver. I rather liked Denver.
The Long Ride Back Home continued.
The driver in the previous segment who did the notebook check and impounded the bus in Kansas City was the best driver Ive ever encountered. An Afro American age about 40, he was all spit and polish and his uniform had sharp creases as tho it was brand new.
More importantly he was efficient, courteous, answered all questions and drove that bus as fast as Ive ever seen a Greyhound bus driven.
We passed everybody on the road and the irony was he was breaking the law virtually every mile of the way (way over the speed limit).
By the time we got to St. Louis he had shaved off an hour and a half from the two hours we were behind, and I think everybody made their connections.
We got to St. Louis at 3 am and I got in a line to take a further bus to Chicago.
There were no wickets open - no info or ticket sales - just a lot of people standing around.
I got a strange feeling while I was in line to go to Chicago. The sign listed a bunch of towns in Illinois and the final destination of 93rd street in Chicago. As far as I can recall the main station in Chicago was downtown on a street named after a president.
I checked with a fellow traveller in the lineup and his ticket said arrival in Chicago at 930am. That meant it was a milk run and also if I had to do an intercity transfer in Chicago and then catch a Detroit bus, well what time would I eventually arrive in Detroit?? It didnt compute well. No go.
Last minute I made a decision and switched lines to the New York bus via Dayton, Ohio.
I just made it and I was the last passenger to board.
The driver couldnt tell me anything about connections to Detroit but my gut decision turned out later to be the right one.
The Long Ride Back Home continued.
If the last driver (before St Louis) was the best one I ever encountered, the next one was the most skilled.
We left St Louis at 330am and drove the rest of the night at high speeds along twisting, turning back roads all the way to Terre Haute, Indiana.
How do I know they were back roads? The bus seemed to take over most of the pavement on these narrow roads, when headlights appeared at the last second the driver would pull over and you could hear the right wheels on the shoulder.
The roads seemed to have dips and bumps, at times we seemed to be flying, alternating with swaying and rattles on the bumps. Lots of curves too and the driver had a professional way of running the numerous stop signs we encountered. Forget about sleep.
We entered Terre Haute just as the night was starting to dim, the prelude to dawn. Terre Haute didnt have a proper bus depot - the drop off was in front of a hair salon.
Lots of back streets and I managed to enjoy a nice sunrise over farmers fields on the way to Indianapolis.
Indianapolis had the first bus depot since St. Louis, in fact it was a cavernous space - much too big even for Greyhound! I took advantage to enquire about a bus to Detroit.
It was 930am when I enquired and the bus didnt arrive in Detroit until 6pm. I had a connection to Canada leaving at 6pm from Detroit. Would I make it? Sorry sir, no guarantees. If you had wanted to make that connection you would have had to leave here at 6am and arrive in Detroit at 1pm.
I got back on the same bus (for some reason it had an hour and a half down time in Indianapolis) and arrived in Dayton, Ohio at 1230pm.
In Dayton we had to wait until 315pm for the Detroit bus out of Cincinnati.
Dayton also had a cavernous depot, and it was also brand new. (the paint hadnt quite dried on the walls yet) The odour was unbearable so I had to do most of my waiting outside.
Luckily it was a very nice day (temperature around 20 C). The kind of day it was nice to wander around in but nowhere to check my luggage.
The bus to Detroit arrived half an hour late. I mentioned my connection in Detroit to Canada to the driver but he just shrugged.
He was a character. He wore bicycle racing gloves with only the tips of the fingers showing, aviator sun glasses, and was about 50 pounds overweight and effeminate in his movements. He also acted like a stewardess on West Jet flights - walking down the aisles at every stop to do head counts and bending over for personal chats with some of the passengers.
I would like to add that I was one of three white passengers on the bus, the rest were Afro American. Why did that matter?
On the way a conversation started that got louder and louder. A few aggressive males (and one aggressive female) started telling stories about their experiences in the southern US with white gangs.
In between was commentary about news from Detroit.
Apparently in the last week tensions had reached a high with a dozen drive by shootings (and killings) in the Detroit area.
I pretended to sleep through it all.
When the bus arrived in Detroit I discovered I had missed the bus to Canada by 10 minutes.
When was the next one? 145 am. What to do? I took my luggage over to the fast food machines and looked everything over and appeared dissatisfied.
I then went back to the sitting area for a short while until I saw a couple of cabs arrive up front.
I then went out and grabbed a cab and told the driver I wanted to go downtown to get something to eat.
After a couple of blocks I changed my mind and told him to take me directly to the border crossing.
He told me it would be a flat fee of $10. (the border was only a couple of blocks away). Fine. (what was $10 in exchange for my life?)
He then dropped me off at the nearest main intersection to the border claiming he couldnt go any further as that was US Customs territory.
The tunnel entrance was still a couple of hundred yards away.
At the corner were groups of black teenagers hanging out.
I was extremely nervous.
I ignored taunts and whistles and luckily nothing else happened.
I walked rapidly to the tunnel entrance and just before was a bus shelter with several people waiting.
The Long Ride Back Home continued.
The tunnel bus (under the St. Clair River and the border crossing between Detroit USA and Windsor Canada) cost $4 and arrived every 15 minutes.
After the previous incidents the ride was smooth.
I didnt have sufficient coinage (just bills) so the driver gave me a free ride. Even customs was friendly. Welcome to Canada -bienvenue.
The bus even provided valet service to the Greyhound terminal.
The feeling of freedom was intoxicating!
At the Greyhound terminal the friendly security guard allowed me to stow my luggage in his office for free and as long as I wanted! (I bought him a coffee) He even persuaded me to wait for the 2am bus (rather than getting a hotel room) and unencumbered I had an unexpected evening on the town.
After some filling food at a Chinese restaurant I enjoyed relaxing at one of Windsors finest establishments for a couple of hours and quaffing some quality beer.
The wait for the 2 am bus (coming from Detroit) on the Canadian side was very pleasant.
It was an all night run to Hamilton and then Toronto and the driver cranked the heat (a trick to get rowdy passengers to sleep quickly) and I had no problems passing out (helped by the beer and the relief of being in Canada).
4 hours later we arrived in Hamilton, a quick stop and on to T.O.
In Toronto I had a two hour wait but it passed like nothing and then boarded the bus to Kitchener.
Two hours later, shortly before noon, and 70 hours after leaving Flagstaff, Arizona I arrived on my doorstep.
Home sweet home.
I remember many of those same stops from trans-America Greyhound trips in 1977 and 1979. As I recall for $100 the dog let you go anywhere they went for a month or so. Los Angeles -Toronto in '79 was dead-heading for three days, living on trail mix and dried apricots. Hit Amarillo about 3 AM, just empty vending machines so the mom with baby insists on somewhere with milk, so we pulled into a truckers bar with a dozen big rigs outside. The driver, a sympathetic guy, goes in to see if it's okay despite the truckers-only protocol. So all us passengers sat at the long counter in a row while a few truckers occupied about fifty tables. The food however was great!
The freakiest part of that trip was boarding at midnight in downtown LA, a really decayed area. Outside the terminal a guy was lying in the gutter, maybe asleep, maybe resting, maybe dead, nobody seemed to notice. In the line-up was a hippie with a big bong. Two cops took him away to search him. But he returns and boards and an hour out into the Mojave desert they're openly smoking the pot his very straight-looking friend had been carrying. The driver didn't care or didn't notice!
My memory of (beautiful) Wyoming is of a nuts guy practicing his karate air kicks in the aisle. The intense passenger could kick very high and yell impressively. When he transferred off the bus in Utah the remaining passengers cheered in relief.
But oh that wonderful feeling crossing the border back into Canada, exhilarating, like finally it's okay to relax!
If there are any young people these days who want the way long bus adventure I have three (2 1/2?) words of advice: Trans Canada Highway. Toronto-Calgary 1975 was smooth and easy. Many years later going to Vancouver I flew Calgary and took the Vancouver bus just to finish the trip and see some Rockies and rush the mighty Fraser to the sea.
May, 1978. I took the bus from Vancouver (after the Keres tournament) to Los Angeles for a tournament the following weekend. A non-eventful 36-hour trip - I remember enjoying an hour walking around downtown Portland (Oregon), and the sleazy area of Sacremento in which we stopped at 6 am.
Yes - the LA bus terminal was in a not-so-good part of town, and I continued on to Anaheim (the tournament didn't start for a couple of days). I picked a random motel within sight of Disneyland for the pricey sum of $10 a night - a clean and quiet room. I was able to walk 20 or 30 minutes to the California Angels stadium and saw a game, and spent the next day at Disneyland.
Then back to LA, where I never stepped outside the hotel for 3 days after dark - you could hear the loud street noises (and violence?) through the thin walls of the hotel. I did have time to walk around the hotel area during daylight, but it still seemed creepy.
I was happy to see the last of the bus station at which I got a shuttle to the airport.
I partly posted this travelog in the hopes that others might also do so. Chessplayers (some) tend to do a lot of travelling and have adventures. Posting highlights makes for interesting reading. Thanks Lawrence and Hugh for sharing your memories.
Photo Commentary - see photos above. #1, Grandmasters and Patzers. Actually the grandmasters were separated from the normal tournament players by a barrier and had more comfortable playing conditions. From left in the background Sebastien Feller vs Le Quang Liem, Lenier Dominguez vs Ray Robson, and Georg Meier. A little closer me vs Ruifeng Li. The rest were normal tournament players (sorry I dont know names).
#2 Susan Polgar and Paul Truong doing what they normally do.
#3 Susan Polgar presenting first prize to Jeffrey Xiong. Jeffrey's dad (very nice man, sharp mind) behind Jeffrey. Typical grandmasters (Dominguez and Shulman) engrossed in their position. I admit I was watching analysis as I was taking the photo, maybe thats why lousy picture.
#4 Dr. Karlsson at the outdoor tables. We had stimulating conversation both before and after the photo. The building behind was the university library, a wonderful happening place.
#5 Looking across the campus from the playing hall. I tried to get some of the nice architecture but Im a terrible photographer.
#6 One of the main streets in Lubbock (the Broadway) ended naturally in this long boulevard. The central commons is over a mile long, and has enough room for as large and lovely a parade as you could want.
#7 The South Kaibab Trail in the Grand Canyon. It goes to the Colorado River (the canyon in the center of the picture) crosses and continues to and up the far rim. About 15 miles to the far rim as the crow flies.
#8 Hopi House. A must see attraction. Built as a dedication to the Hopi Nation and as an opportunity for them to make money. The outside is interesting, the inside far more fascinating with Hopi treasures galore (exquisite carving, weaving, jewellery - all sorts of artistry and historical artifacts) but of course no photography.
#9 My favorite rest stop overlooking the canyon. The old log bench was all wood even the nails (I guess they would be called pegs) and had a wonderful rustic feel to it.
#10 The Hermits Rest Trail - as brutal as it looks.
#11 The central fireplace at the Hermits Rest gift shop. It used to be the central heating for the artists studio. (before the gift shop came into being)
#12 The entrance to Hermits Rest.
#13 The Grand Canyon with the sun going down. Notice the Colorado River down below. I of course took several pictures of the fabulous sunset but none of them turned out.
#14 A picture from the Watch Tower - one of several interesting historical structures in place along the rim of the Grand canyon - designed by Mary Kolb (an amazingly creative architect) in the 1920's and 30's.
I took well over a hundred photos during my trip. I am a terrible photographer and I must apologize for that. (I wish I had Egis along - and them we would have amazingly interesting panorama to back up the travelog) Only about 40 pics turned out and none of the interesting situations.
I took well over a hundred photos during my trip. I am a terrible photographer and I must apologize for that. (I wish I had Egis along - and them we would have amazingly interesting panorama to back up the travelog) Only about 40 pics turned out and none of the interesting situations.
Your photos of the Grand Canyon look fantastic. I don't think I want to see photos of the interesting situations on the buses you rode.
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