The High Line

Blackberry bushes seemed to cover everything in sight, slowly taking over. Lush green vegetation surrounded us, despite heavily populated city. Our train slowed, passing the Vancouver Amtrak, then turning further south over the Columbia River and on into Portland.

We entered the BNSF yard almost at a crawl. The train eventually came to a standstill, although the air brakes did not completely cut. Quickly we simply tossed our packs between the lip of the well and the underneath of the trailer above us. Patting my train a farewell, I collected my gear and quickly slung it over my back, scurrying less than 50 feet to a busy road that ran parallel with the yard. There was no fence, there were no cameras, and no visible signs of any railroad police presence. Smiling and walking with a lot of spring in our steps, we walked right on out of the yard without a problem.

We are now sitting across the street from our now terminated train, waiting for the next bus downtown.