On the Road 2011 #5

The class system not only is obvious in terms of who gets to play bingo ( a game I am quite happy to leave to those who can afford sleepers on trains) it also raises its head during lunch and supper. An attendant goes through the cars looking for reservations. However those travelling in the cheap seats only have access to the third seating.... which is at least 2 hours after the "others" start to eat. Obviously they would not want the riff-raff to lower the tone of the dining car. Lord knows our manners are terrible...........

I had brought things to eat and so did not part take of the option for lunch or supper. I had hoped for a muffin from the snack bar - but they were out so I did with my granola bars and travel mix of nuts and cranberries. After Hornpayne, the next long stop would be Winnipeg. approximately 14 hours away.  I was not hungry - after all I had done nothing all day - but I was bored and wanted something to munch on just for a change of pace. I was tired of reading and it was starting to be too dark outside to see much. I dropped by a couple of times to visit with my friends from Peterborough but they were not in the next car. While their kids were very well behaved, I suspect that there were numerous trips to the observation car to keep them entertained.

However just as I was wondering what to do, I was provided with some late evening entertainment. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere the train stopped and a number of generally older fisherman got on. And so for a few hours the train, or at least the car I was in, was almost full. There appeared to be two separate groups, one was comprised of 6-7 men all of whom were related (or at I assumed so as they all had same the last name),  and the other was comprised 10-12 individuals all of whom appeared to be both in their mid 50s, and to be fairly successful business men. Some of the latter group, as soon as the train got going went to find a drink. They were disappointed to find out that the bar was closed. That did not stop at least one of them who dipped into an insulated bag surprisingly frequently for another cold beer. The men talked quietly about hunting and fishing and most frequently about the absurd laws that existed to prevent them from getting their full limits. In another time and on another train I would have perhaps felt the need to argue with them. But not this time, not on this train.

If there are fewer ducks in the sky, the truth is, to me, self evident - either there are too many hunters, more and more wetlands being destroyed or the rules are not strict enough. I didn't think any of these arguments would be persuasive. So I let them ramble on, convincing each other of the truth. At some point well after dark, they all got off at some fishing camp. As I looked from the train window at their jumbled pile of boxes, fishing gear and packs, all of them trying to sort things out by flashlight, I heard them curse the mosquitoes - I smiled. Perhaps there is some sort of justice for those who assume that they have the right to take as much as they wanted from our lakes and rivers.