1948 ARCHIBOLD CAPE YORK EXPEDITION Daily Journal G. M. Tate Wednesday, 28 January 1948. It had not been my intention to open this journal until after the departure of S.S. Marine Phoenix from San Francisco on 30 January 1948 but the circumstances of the journey across the continent from New York to San Francisco were sufficiently unusual to justify my doing so. We left New York (H. M. Van Deusen and G. M. Tate) by the Commodore Vanderbilt, New York Central, at 4:45 PM on Saturday, 24 January 1948. There had been a fairly heavy snow fall, about five or six inches, the thermometer was 18 degrees and falling. The train was in poor condition and should not have been allowed to leave the station in her condition. Van and I noticed on our way to the diner for a meal, that all light was off in one of the sleepers; service in other departments was disrupted and by the time the train had reached Harmon, normally about a forty minute run from New York, we were three hours late. Van and I turned in fairly early, waking about an hour before we were due in Chicago to find that we were still at Cleveland and were then six hours late. Things went from bad to worse and lunch was given to us "with the compliments of the New York Central." Had we known before lunch, we would probably have eaten more. Shortly after lunch we were switched into a siding, waiting there for another hour while the coach without light was cut out. We moved on but just before we reached South Bend, we backed up a very considerable distance and waited there for about twenty minutes. Several passengers who had been sitting in the lounge car at the rear of the train, stated that we had struck something, the women saying it was four children and the men an automobile which had tried to race us to a level crossing. It was rumor, of course, as the train was about fourteen cars in length and anyway the people sitting at the rear could not see what the front hit. No broken bodies or machines being found, we moved on again and arrived in Chicago nine hours late. It was dark when we reached La Salle Street and the light in our coach, which was supposed to go right through to San Francisco, failed then. We were informed that we should have to get out and take taxis over to Union Station and those people who had unpacked had to pack up again in the dark. The switch was finally made and we went out from Union Station on the Burlington Zephyr, an excellent train, bound for Denver, where we would have to transfer again. The conductor of the Zephyr did not seem favorably impressed at receiving twenty-three unexpected passengers and having to find space for them but he got us in somehow. We had an excellent dinner and the prices, service and everything else were much better than on the New York Central. We were due in Denver at 8.30 the following morning. Next morning, the 26th, I roused about 5 A.M. and, going to the washroom, found a fellow passenger, who wished to get off at McCook, Nebraska, and had asked for a 5 A.M. call. He was incensed at the porter who had failed to wake him, but had roused under his own steam, dressed and was waiting to get off the train. The porter then came in and told us that the train had been at a stand-still most of the night, was four hours late and the McCook passenger could go back for that length of time to his bed. The passenger's face was the only funny thing I saw during the whole of the trip. We reached Denver five hours late, in zero temperature, snow falling and twenty inches of it predicted. Actually though the delays had approximately equaled what would have been our normal lay-over time both at Chicago and at Denver and we got away from the latter city for the trip over the Rockies at about the scheduled time. Snow was falling and most of the time there was no