A strangled gasp came from the chef de train as he said, “As you can see, the passenger lies dead in his berth — stabbed. Not once but twelve times.” ■  Hercule Poirot, the famous Belgian sleuth, twisted the points of his upward curled mustache as he looked at the bloodied dead man. “The murderer is with us — on the train now … .”

A shaft of light from the train’s window moved across the page of the book I was reading, Murder on the Orient Express, as the American Orient Express rounded a curve. The soothing sound of the wheels on the rails and the swaying motion of the car caused my mind to wander . . .

Albert Finney, I thought, picturing the face of the actor who portrayed the Belgian detective created by author Agatha Christie in the movie. Then there was Lauren Bacall, Ingrid Bergman, Jacqueline Bisset —

“It’s gorgeous,” Miriam, my companion, sighed, interrupting my reverie. “A snow-laden wonderland.”

Following her gaze, I looked out the window. The blue-and-gold cars of the American Orient Express snaked through a forest of evergreen trees, boughs heavy with snow. A cascading stream led to the next bend of the rail line. Through the trees I glimpsed Mount Shasta, a cone-shaped pinnacle of snow.

“My breath leaves me, it’s so spectacular,” Miriam said dreamily. “I love this luxurious train. It’s like riding on a magic carpet.”

Letting my eyes wander from the ever-changing view, I looked around the New York Observation Car, the last car on the train. (There are 15 cars, including the engine and crew’s car, eight Pullman sleepers, two dining cars, the piano lounge, the dome car, and the observation car we were relaxing in.) Passengers were seated in plush sofa chairs and on a circular settee, which offered panoramic views through a curved bay window. Mahogany panels and gleaming brass fixtures added to the old-world ambience, reminding me of photographs I had seen of the original Orient Express, which traveled from Paris to Istanbul, a 65-hour rail ride. That Orient Express began its first trip in 1883 and was dubbed “The Magic Carpet to the East.”

The American version has its roots in 1945 when construction, or renovation, of the train’s cars began. Many of the vintage carriages were assembled from museums and private collections. The American Orient Express (www.americanorientexpress.com or (800) 320-4206) became firmly established in the 1990s as a “cruise train.” Today rail routes travel America’s West Coast, the Great Northwest, American Southwest, and the South.

Our journey on the American Orient Express would take us from Los Angeles to Seattle, a “coastal culinary adventure” that would afford us seven leisurely days traveling through Paso Robles and the Napa Valley wine country. Scheduled were excursions to Hearst Castle and stops in San Francisco and Portland, Ore.

A culinary adventure

We had boarded the American Orient Express at Union Station in Los Angeles. There were about 90 passengers, dressed casually in tennis shoes, baggy jeans, and sweat suits. I noted that most of these travelers were in their 70s or 80s.

A white-gloved porter led us through the narrow passageway of the Monte Carlo Sleeping Car to our Vintage Pullman room. As we squeezed inside the 7-by-7-foot space, I tried to envision Eva Marie Saint and Cary Grant lounging on the plush couch, but those stars would have opted for the Grand Suite with three times the space and a private shower. The double-sized Classical Presidential Suite and the large-cabin Parlor Suite also had showers.

Though our room had a private sink and toilet, there was no shower. The porter signed us up for morning baths, a trek down the passageway to the shower room that had towels, body creams, and shampoo. It proved to be more fun than inconvenient.

Miriam and I unpacked, learning to sidestep each other adroitly in the cramped space. As the train lurched to a start, we quickly learned the joy of togetherness. We left our rolling room and ventured to the 1940s-era Seattle Club Car for a champagne reception. Trying out our “train legs,” we wobbled from side to side, brushing against the mahogany walls.

We entered the Club Car and were greeted by the melodious sounds of “Bonnie” at the baby grand. (I learned that the piano had been lowered into the car from a hole cut into the roof.) I noted that most of the passengers were still in casual clothes — that is, all but two.

There was one lady who stole Miriam’s heart. She looked to be close to 90, petite and perfectly coifed, dressed in a classic black, knee-length dress and high heels. “Made up like a doll,” Miriam said to me. At the lady’s side stood her well-dressed, white-haired husband. Miriam talked to the couple and many of the others, quickly making friends with her outgoing, friendly personality.

The sun had gone down by the time we took one last sip of champagne and walked to the Chicago Dining Car (there is a second dining car, the Zurich). There we encountered an old-world ambience: White linen-covered tables were adorned with fresh-cut flowers and graced with Orient Express signature china. Long-stemmed wineglasses awaited our order.

We soon learned that one doesn’t eat on the Orient Express, one dines. First came an appetizer of pan-seared sea scallop, followed by roasted but-ternut squash, a salad, then a choice of entrees: roasted strip loin, pan-seared duck breast, or sesame-crusted tuna. While I was wondering how all this gourmet food could be prepared in the train’s rolling, tilting 10-by-5-foot kitchen, I noticed Miriam gazing at the reflections in the darkened window.

“It’s as if time has been suspended,” she said. “Don’t you feel that this train, like the original Orient Express, evokes a time of romantic and adventurous train travel?” I remembered a quote I had read and said, “The Orient Express summons the romance that sleeps within us.”

Touring the sights

After a pleasant night of being lulled to sleep by the swaying of the train, passengers took a tour of the Eberle Winery in Paso Robles, Calif., where a gourmet luncheon was served in the winery’s caves. Then it was on to San Simeon and a tour of Hearst Castle, one of the showplaces of the world. William Randolph Hearst had originally requested his architect to “just build a little something.”
 
The following day the group toured San Francisco, had lunch on Fisherman’s Wharf, and then checked into the Westin St. Frances Hotel in the center of the city’s exclusive shopping district. Of course, Miriam wanted to shop at Nieman-Marcus and Saks. Fortunately, Saks served champagne for tagalong male mates. After dinner at the hotel, Miriam vanished to the bathroom for an hour, soothing herself in a tub of scented, foaming water.

On day four we arrived in Napa Valley and tasted sparkling wine at the Domaine Carneros Sparkling Winery. Next we had a candlelight lunch in the cask room at the Merryvale Winery, surrounded by century-old, 2,000-gallon barrels.

End of the journey

At dinner on the train that evening, I mentioned to Miriam, “A trip starts slowly, ends fast, and is big around the middle. I figure 5 pounds.”

She replied, “With the pitching and rolling of this train we’ll shake off that many pounds.” Then she ordered dessert.

Day five was spent onboard the train, a respite from bus touring. Relaxing as the train snaked past Mount Shasta, I continued reading Murder on the Orient Express:

The chef de train pointed to the multiple stab wounds in the body, saying,
“This murder is the act of a man driven almost crazy with a frenzied hate.”
Hercule Poirot mused, “Or a woman."

“You mean — ”

The next day we emerged from this winter wonderland and pulled into Portland for a day of touring. The highlight was seeing Multnomah Falls, which drops 620 feet from the cliff above. We walked up a steep slope to view the falls within the mist.

Then, this charming, romantic interlude in our lives was over as we entered the Seattle train depot and detrained. I remembered a few lines from Murder on the Orient Express when Hercule Poirot muses: “All around us are people of different classes, of all ages. For days these strangers to one another are brought together, they sleep and eat under one roof; they cannot get away from each other. At the end they part, never see the other again.”

I smiled as I thought we have not experienced “murder” on the Orient Express, but “life.”