Funnily enough the only real stretch of coast that we saw contained the Channel Islands. Not my Channel Islands of course, but those nature reserve impostors.

The last hour of the trip though was a riot. Russell, a mischievous Scottish rascal (when his wife is out of earshot) decreed that our carriage would henceforth be known as the singing carriage. Every person that tried to pass was asked to sing a few lines for everyones enjoyment. A few ran a mile, but a few joined in with real gusto.

At one stage everyone was singing Twist and Shout, backed by a few girls that had wondered along and being recorded by a couple of previous victims, er, participants.

We arrived at Oakland station to late to contemplate doing anything other then go to bed. However seeing San Francisco for the first time from the Bay Bridge all lit up was the perfect way to be introduced to a new city.

Nothing to really write home about, but I wanted to give a special mention to Chuck our carriage attendant. What a star you were. From the way you placed your hands on the womans buttocks to practically throw them onto the train. To the way you managed to turn my bed back into seats in incredibly quick time when I went to the loo at 5:15am, Even though I could have had another view hours sleep. I particularly loved the way that you managed to stick my bag and laptop on the top bunk and still close it.

If I hadn’t left my GPS tracker on the bloody train, I’d go as far to say you were the worst thing about it.