Adrian Berlutti
The Texas Eagle is less of a ride and more of a meditation in motion. Between Chicago and Los Angeles, the scenery never stays still, shifting from concrete corridors to cottonwood groves to sun-baked plains. These are the moments worth setting your phone down for.
Chicago: Departing Through A Canyon of Steel And Glass
You’re barely ten minutes out of Union Station when the skyline makes its move. A blur of glass, smoke stacks, and stone cathedrals—Chicago doesn’t ease you into this. It announces itself with shadow and reflection. Catch the lake out your left window before it disappears behind freight yards and viaducts.
St. Louis: Crossing The Mighty Mississippi
There’s weight in crossing the Mississippi. It’s more than the length of the bridge. It’s what the river feels like. Sluggish and silver, it’s a kind of stillness that commands attention. Look out, and the Arch winks through the lattice of steel. Blink, and you’re west of everything you knew five minutes ago.
Missouri To Arkansas: Winding Through The Ozark Foothills
These hills don’t pose. They just are. Wide-backed and wrapped in oaks, the Ozarks feel like a place where your thoughts could settle in. On misty mornings, the fog creeps up from creek beds and hangs low, like smoke that doesn’t want to leave. It’s the quietest part of the trip and maybe the best.
Little Rock: Gliding Into The City Over Lit-Up Bridges
After dark, just before the Arkansas River, the skyline gives way to bridges that glow. Literal light shows: violet arches, blue cables, and reflections that stutter in the current. It lasts nearly just a minute, but the timing always feels perfect. It feels like the city was waiting for your train to arrive before it lit up.
East Texas: Riding Through The Piney Woods
There’s a stretch near Lufkin where it feels like you’ve fallen into a forest you weren’t invited to—but it lets you pass. The Piney Woods are dense and watchful, their trunks so tall and straight they almost look planted by hand. The light slants gold in the afternoon and everything goes a little quieter.
Dallas: Watching A Modern Metropolis Take Shape
You don’t arrive in Dallas all at once. The place starts appearing slowly. A brick warehouse. A rusted grain chute. Then, a sudden spire of mirrored glass. Rooftop bars peer down at graffiti-covered freight yards. The city builds layer by layer, like someone rifling through their past and future at the same time.
Austin: Brief Glimpse Of The Colorado River
If you’re not watching, you’ll miss it. The Colorado River sneaks beneath the train, framed by running trails and sunbathers pretending Monday isn’t real. A single kayaker might drift under a bridge just as you pass overhead. It’s one of the rare moments where the train and the city breathe in sync.
San Antonio: Rolling Into A City Built On History
Nothing shouts here. There’s no signature tower, no dramatic reveal. What you see instead are old missions, worn limestone walls, and the occasional palm tree leaning into a breezeway. You see history in the texture—something tucked between courtyards and whispered through cracked stucco and iron balconies.
El Paso: Crossing The Empty Heart Of The Southwest
You hit a point where the desert just stretches out and decides it’s not stopping. No fences. No shade. Just space, punctuated by the occasional skeletal billboard or leaning shack. The sky pulls back, the land goes flat, and the train feels small. The place is not empty—just unedited.
California: Coasting Into Los Angeles Through Golden Hills
Golden and gentle, the hills outside LA don’t ask for attention. They know you’ll look. Dry grasses ripple like static as the sun folds into them. This is not a climax, and that’s the point. After all those miles, all that noise, the land doesn’t end—it exhales.
