American express

Ruth Fowler travels coast-to-coast by rail and discovers that, if you really want to get under the skin of the US, Amtrak is the way to go.

I'D been seduced by the mythology of the American Road Trip. Hunter S Thompson's Fear & Loathing, Thelma & Louise ... even Ferris Bueller's Day Off had me drooling for the open highway.

After living in New York for three years and seeing nothing of the rest of North America, it felt like a rite of passage. The only problem was I hadn't driven in 10 years and the last time I did, I'd managed to cruise into a petrol pump.

Due to the escalating price of petrol I thought about traveling by Greyhound bus, but I'd done that before. If you ever want to experience pure unmitigated terror, head for a US bus station at midnight. That's all I'll say on the matter.

So, I decided to go by rail. Every American I spoke to was astounded.

"You're taking the train across America? Isn't that, like, old-fashioned," said a concerned well-wisher.

They besieged me with horror stories. "Once I took the train to LA. This lady stalled her car on the tracks. She just sat in the car and kept trying to start the engine. Then we came along and ploughed right over her and the car. She died and we were delayed a whole day."

My plans may have been met with bemusement, but it turns out I was not alone in turning to the train. Passenger numbers on Amtrak, the government-run intercity rail service, have increased by 17 per cent this year alone due to fuel costs pricing-out Middle America from driving or flying across the country.

I took the plunge and booked a trip from New York to LA, with stops in Chicago, Minneapolis, Whitefish Montana, Portland Oregon and San Francisco.

I rocked up to Penn Station a month back, ready to get on my first train for an 18-hour journey to Chicago. Initial impressions? OK, you're not getting high-speed deluxe journeys ˆ la Eurostar, but huge, spacious coach seats - and for wealthier passengers, a first-class private sleeper compartments with fold-out bunks.

Dining cars offered flower and linen-adorned tables at which to sit and enjoy meals at reasonable prices, and in the lounge/viewing car, a bar serving snacks and drinks was open until midnight.

First-class travellers sat side-by-side with those seeking a more economical cross-country route. I took the budget option and chose 'coach class', which meant I would sleep in my spacious reclining seat.

I boarded my train and we slipped into the countryside, following the river through the Hudson Valley. I stared at the lush scenery of upstate New York for a while and, after a couple of hours, wandered over to the dining car, where I sat down with the conductor and ordered a meal.

The conductor, Eric, told me we had already lost one passenger during a short stop in Syracuse. A young lady had taken the opportunity to leave for a smoke and afterwards boarded the wrong train.

Eric and I were joined by an Iraq war veteran, an ex-adult film star, a young mother from Arkansas, a rich grandmother who hated flying, and two art students.

Gradually, my trip across America seemed to become more about Amtrak and my fellow passengers than the destinations I stopped at along the way. I met retirees biking across the US, kids visiting divorced parents, students, tourists and businessmen.

Sitting in the lounge of a train crossing Wisconsin, talking to a young woman who was planning to work with remote tribes in Papua New Guinea and an older woman who was going to say goodbye to her dying sister in Minneapolis, I didn't care that the train was three hours late.

The gentle drone of the Amtrak guide with a microphone in his hand, recounting the history of the landscape, provided a superb counterpoint to the light patter of summer rain, the stories of my companions and a vivid, startling sunset lighting up the sky.

Amtrak bombards you with far more stories and experiences and sights than you could ever witness alone in a car, eyes fixed to the road, or on a five-hour flight to LA. Each state is as distinct, from the plains of Dakota to the mountains of Montana. I was being sucked into the seductiveness of interstate travel. The desire to explore this fascinating and multi-faceted country is a task that seemed as limitless as the flat, endless North Dakota horizon.

Amtrak employees themselves assume key roles in this peculiarly theatrical mode of travel. En route to Montana I was woken in the morning by a lady trilling over the intercom: "I'm singing in the rain. Just singing in the rain! I'm brewing COFFEE! Mmmm, coffee! Rich, robust, strong, masculine, earthy coffee! Can you smell it? It wants you. This coffee wants you. I'm in the lounge car. Ask for Miss Olivia. I'm waiting for you with my enormous coffee pot."

After a month I was sleep-deprived, giddy, exhausted and overwhelmed. I needed a vacation to get over my vacation. If you want speed, comfort, sleep, or have any trace of misanthropy in your character, Amtrak is not for you.

However, travelling by train gives you a glimpse into the soul of the US. If you want to see tourist America, hire a Cadillac, get on Route 66 and stop off at a few diners and motels. If you want to see the real America in all its spectacular, kooky, crazy, contradictory glory, get on Amtrak.