Day 01 Our TreeFort on the NightJet

As the NightJet rounded the bend into the platform, a wave of accomplishment rolled over both of us. After the long wait in the Vienna station — moments of uneasiness here and there — we finally had our ride. We were tired, a bit frayed around the edges, and more than ready to settle in.

To my fellow Viking River passengers: if you ever thought your cabins on the ship were too small (we didn’t), the First Class compartment on NightJet 466 is about the size of a walk-in closet in one of the Viking Suites. Cozy would be the polite word. Micro-compact is more accurate.

Donna volunteered for the upper bunk; I secured the lower. It took about thirty minutes for us to get ourselves sorted — stowing our carry-ons under the bed, finding homes for our shoes, CPAP, clothes, water bottles, glasses, phones, and all the little things. It felt like being in my own treehouse in the woods, figuring out where every treasure should go. My CPAP plugged in nicely (thank you, European adapter). My morning clothes waited at the foot of the bed. My phone and glasses nestled in the little net cargo holder beside me. Perfect.

And the blanket — I loved that blanket. Lightweight, but with a gentle weight that felt like someone whispering, go to sleep, you’re safe here. They place it folded in thirds; you just open it and rotate it 90 degrees for full length. A simple pleasure, but a good one.

Donna, eye mask securely in place, finally said, “STOP,” as I narrated everything I saw outside the window. You cannot see much from the top bunk, and she wanted to sleep. I, however, was far too excited.

It was like watching a movie through my cabin window — a nighttime panorama in slow motion. The lights of the city sliding past; the silhouettes of old buildings; the sudden rush of another train roaring by in the opposite direction. Then came the countryside: tall mountains reduced to shadow, a treeline etched in near-black ink, reflections shimmering from a quiet lake. Streetlights created dancing patterns across the land. A few homes glowed warmly in the darkness — I even saw smoke curling from a chimney.

Hard to believe I was on a night train slicing through Austria toward Switzerland. For many, this might be a simple routine. For me, it felt like something out of a Clive Cussler or John Grisham novel. I was riding my own small version of the Orient Express.

(And yes — Donna is now thinking we may redo our master bedroom at home… with bunk beds. Stay tuned.)

Eventually, about an hour later, I fumbled in the dark for my CPAP headgear and eye pillow. I closed the window blind and let the rhythm of the rails guide me into sleep. We actually slept pretty well — except for each time the train stopped. Then we’d both wake up for a few seconds wondering: Where are we?
Did we crash?
Are we being boarded by pirates?
Has Interpol finally caught up with us?
Moments later, the train would start rolling again, and the music of the tracks would pull us right back into our dreams.

Donna set a 6:45 AM alarm — fifteen minutes before breakfast. We readied ourselves as best we could in our tiny tree fort. Breakfast arrived at the cabin. It wasn’t Teo, Yuri, or the beautiful Rinda service we grew fond of — but it was exactly what we needed: simple, warm, and enough to start the day. We ate, dressed, tidied up our little space, and got ourselves organized.

When the train coasted into Zurich, we gathered our things. As we stepped off, I couldn’t help but whisper a small thank-you to our makeshift hideaway.

Good-bye, tree fort. You served us well.

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