Realising that I had somehow managed to check in and arrive by the skin of my teeth (yet again) was not surprising. Although in this instance, I had believed myself to be in a rather timely fashion so was somewhat railroaded by the hurried way in which disembarking from my Oakville family bosom to boarding 'The Canadian' all happened. The sad good byes to Evan, Sarah and Becs in a rather miserable looking area of the train station did not seem an apt setting for a poetical farewell. I assured them I would be fine and promised to keep them updated with the train adventures, or indeed the lack of. Many people had expressed concern when I talked of my upcoming journey, likening it to a captivity of the negative sort. "Make sure you have plenty of reading material, especially for when you hit the prairies of Manitoba!" Even some offered sympathy, thinking 4 days on a train was surely an unwelcome incarceration. I had a prophetic inkling that there was the potential for it to be wonderful and possibly adventuresome. I remembered my friend Chrissy back in Lunenberg had said it would be perfectly romantical and I held on to that.
This said, I ensured my backpack was full of reading material as this is the way I have been travelling generally and I had a clear plan: blog, skype, read, soak up the landscape and hope for adventure. I was pretty sure that this was the right approach when facing a 4 day train journey that many viewed as an unfortunate incarceration. So alone in the station, with a questionable bunch, I begun to question whether this woebegone area was indeed the right spot. It was not. I hustled to the departure lounge that was quite different in appearance and atmosphere. Art deco in style and pretty plush. People milling, but mostly sitting and supping drinks. I was rushed through the process (apparently arriving half an hour before departure is not the done thing), checking in and receiving my berth number, registering my preferred times for lunch and dinner sittings. Quite the whirlwind- I had not really thought about how it would all work once aboard. I quickly seized the wifi to let the Oakville family know I was okay. Evan immediately responded with relief saying they were 'worried you were stuck with that seedy crowd'. Before I knew it we were being sent on our way from the departure lounge- really an 'All Aboard!' business going on here!
As the fellow 'Canadian' passengers ambled along the far reaching carriages of this HUGE train. I looked back at Toronto, through the drizzle and darkened sky. Amazed how just moments ago I was with my Oakville family and the night was just beginning to darken and spatterings of rain threatened the possibility of more, and now a whole new world.
The walk was pretty long, I was at the end of the bloody train. Later I would love this but it seemed so odd as I and the passengers sought out our homes for the following days. Clutching our bed or cabin numbers and our luggage as we walked the length of our train, I could not help but think of the pictures of evacuees boarding their trains to take them to their new homes. As I climbed aboard, I met Ishmael. He was my porter up until Winnipeg and he got me settled in my upper berth. It was all made up for bedtime. I was surprised how comfy it felt. Regretfully, it was rather high (sure I could have dangled Evan from here if he would have conceded to a reenactment) and I am not really a top bunk fan but this was a $100 cheaper than the lower berth so in a bemused fashion I settled in. I was opposite a lovely elderly couple and a couple of friends also on an adventure to Jasper.
Ishmael said that these berths are actually a lot more roomy than the cabins (they have a toilet in the room and they are tiny- would not have liked that combo at all- quite claustrophobic) and that in the daytime it is much lovelier than the cabins too. I had lucked out with a half price ticket, without realising the money I had saved. I knew it was discounted ticket but the website was so confusing and the deals changed all the time. I was rather confused and I remember biting the bullet late one night back in Boston. I did the math and realised that actually 4 days, food, travel and accommodation, the price was actually a bargain and booked it. I am so glad I did. I even got upgraded to the lower berth beneath me on day 2 (as there was no one there) and the last night I had my carriage to myself when my neighbours departed in Jasper. Lower berths are great as there is no dangling risk and most importantly, a window. A window in which you can gaze at the passing scenery as you drift to sleep and wake. While most passengers contrived to murder sleep, I was beyond fine. I loved sleeping on the train. (Although many freight trains caused long delays, where 'The Canadian' would remain stationary and this was to the frustration of some passengers. I took it on the chin, I was loving the incarceration. The train driver seemed to speed in the night to make up the lost hours and occasionally I would wake from my slumber as we screeched around corners...).
Initially attended by invisible company, I traversed the carriage. I sat myself in the panorama viewing car where there was champagne and canapes were being served as we left the Toronto metropolis.
This was very fancy, quite unexpected and it seemed that people were quickly making friends. Me being me, was contemplating bed at 10:30 and did not partake in the schmoozing- I was early sittings for food and was aware I would need an early breakfast in order to be ready for lunch at 11:30! I was also reeling from the shock of discovering that there was no wifi. When I asked the man topping up champagne the code for the wifi, he informed me that there was none. I may be lucky and get a little in Winnipeg, possibly in Jasper. I must have looked a picture. Plans hopelessly dashed in a mere moment, I think my expression of incredulity must have made him feel he had hurt me terribly and I was some digitally demanding princess. So I pulled myself together, explaining I was all for a digital detox but was caught unaware about this one! I took myself off to bed to lick my wounds.
The next morning I quickly made friends and was joined at breakfast by Janet. A lady from Manchester celebrating her 50th and on a bit of a random Canadian adventure. A Korean guy living in Winnipeg on all sorts of adventures and Linda who became a firm friend for the rest of the trip until she disembarked in Kamloops for a family party.
I later met Mahina, who became my train husband- people believed us to be newlyweds. We were in fact just train buddies who connected and hung out with each other for the following days. He was an early meal sitting guy too- so we dined, chatted the hours away and played scrabble (he won just about everytime, much to my dismay). I guess the nature of the train meant that it appeared we were inseparable- he followed behind me (single file is the only way to move) and held the doors and reserved our favourite table in the dining car. He was a bit of a gentleman and many of the elder ladies seemed to swoon for him, but you know he was just a really interesting, lovely guy (admittedly amazingly muscly and handsome) and mostly a welcome travelling companion. And people love a bit of a romance, so I can not deny the potential of it being extremely romantical.
The thing was, I thought I had it pretty good. This little microcosm of society was an interesting and comfortable affair. My only suggestion was the need for an exercise carriage; the inertia of the body becoming vexatious. Not just for me- others too. The friends from Montreal performed sit ups in the aisles come day; Janet stomped the carriages; Mahina and I met at 5:30 to work out in the viewing carriage. This fresh start necessary to avoid the early risers, ready for their coffees, pre breakfast pastries and panorama scenery.
Everyone you spoke to was feeling indulged by the sheer volume of beautiful food and the sheer lack of movement.
At the end of the day I am active and no Victorian gal. A 'turn around the room', to quote Jane Austen, was not quite enough. Stretching did not seem to cut it either, my legs wanted to run free. Hearing that Jasper would be an hour stop, I conspired to twist someone's arm to help me find my baggage and grab my runners in order to blast through the town of Jasper. My porter wrote down the name of a man that could help and sent me on my way; warning me to allow enough time as lunch was soon and it is a far way to go. On the promise of being reunited with my trainers, treading resolutely (in a linear fashion) through the expanse of carriages, I went to find Shaun. Sure enough he was there and more than willing to oblige. As I followed him, I blathered on about my need to get my legs moving and how my only gripe about this wonderful train experience was that they really ought to have a yoga carriage. He chortled and humoured me. This was about to sound extremely princess-y and not in the good princess way.
The luggage was in the very front carriage and to get there we had to walk through the penultimate carriage- the reclining chair section. Oh my, I was not prepared for it. I had become so immersed in my world in miniature, I neglected to consider what went on in this beast of a train. I had to walk through a middle section that was a replica of ours. It seemed quite alien as the people were unfamiliar and the fact it was central seemed quite rubbish and stifling in comparison to our position. Being at the end was very liberating in that we could watch the railway tracks snake off into the distance, between mountains and trees.
The section with the reclining chairs looked like a bomb had hit and smelt pretty bad too. It felt hot and people looked extremely fed up. I entertained two young children for a while, figuring it was the least I could do; the solo mother had a large cool box, laundry and some toys strewn around. This would not be an easy journey. This was incarceration. Nowhere to go. Living in your chair. I had slept one night on a reclining seat from Halifax to Quebec, but four would be a challenge. And I did not have children to contend with. Unsure if I could absolve myself with any amount of humanitarian work, I guiltily made the trek back to my world of white linen table cloths, three course meals, pastries and snacks to hand, entertainment, friends and panoramic viewing cars. Where there was at least the possibility of stretching.
Mahina who had been 'stretching'- I think it was a hard core work out, using the berths to perform crazy push up/leg presses and god knows what else- had impressed a young Japanese man, travelling with his father. The boy acted as his dad's translator and there was a lovely tranquility and respectfulness that rested around them; we dined with them as we went through the Rocky mountains.
Their witnessing of Mahina mid workout, using the train car as his machines to lever himself, had left them somewhat in awe and humbled by Mahina and his huge presence. Apparently there were a lot of 'ohhhhhhh' and 'ahhhhhh' as he completed this beefcake set of exercises. The young Japanese man bowed to Mahina, informing him that he had the perfect body. Mahina later slipped the boy a protein bar that he had promised him. I was quite bemused by this. Mahina, although pretty impressed by the food selection and portion size, had to supplement the regiment of the train dining experience and was allowed two dinners one evening. I seized the opportunity and in our 40 minute stopover in Jasper, I disembarked and ran. Finding time to snap a few shots as I recovered from the shock of movement and wobbly train legs:
Our time in Winnipeg with Linda was fun too. Here we are enjoying stretching our legs and seeing the nearby sights (I am surprised by the statue of Ghandi which was gifted to the Friends of the Canadian Museum for Human Rights):
I really could not have had a more amazing trip across Canada. White linen cloths surmounted with beautiful feasts and breathtaking views from prairies to mountains; new friends; a train husband; a headstand in the viewing carriage; a run in a mountainous landscape; a cosy bed, being rocked to sleep and feeling super connected to the land on such a special crossing of the country. A veritable triumph in more ways than one. As we dismounted, I was finally in Vancouver. Hugging Mahina close and exchanging details with Samantha. As they made their way to Victoria, I gathered my bags and headed out into the early morning air to wait for my pick up. A reunion with old friends, my Vancouver family and a whole new leg of the journey awaiting. From East to West in 4 days. Hurtled across Canada, held captive by the changing landscapes of the provinces and held captive in a beautiful bubble of a world; romantical, poetical, full of fun, food and unexpected friendships.
‘It is good to have an end to journey towards; but it is the journey that matters in the end.’
~Ernest Hemingway
