I don't know if anyone any size actually sleeps well on the train ( a bus is even worse as is a plane), but I had both seats to myself, the train was dark and quiet and so I deeply dozed for much of the night. I would wake up, realize it was still night and fall back to sleep.Not exactly restful but then I had cat napped throughout much of the previous day, so I did not need much sleep. When one wakes in the morning and sees other going through the same motions, there is a sense of belonging to the same club - the we slept on the train club - or the who needs a berth to survive club?
It is always interesting to see the changes in the landscape. Over night we had gone from a thick primarily conifer forest with brief glimpses of lakes between the trees, beaver meadows ( I don't care if they are our national animal or not, they are destructive little buggers flooding acres of land. At one point the day before we had passed, in the middle of nowhere two gasoline pumps running full bore trying to prevent the tracks from being flooded out) and desolate stretches of track to mixed forest and open fields. The view is much less claustrophobic and of course for me a pleasant harbinger of the Prairies and points west.
I had been surprised to hear one of the conductors/attendants announce the night before that people should not plan on having breakfast on the train as there were much better breakfasts to be had in Winnipeg for $3.99. It struck me that his bosses might not have been pleased at this lost opportunities to make more money off of the passengers. I was even more surprised in the morning to hear over the PA that the train was arriving 45 minutes early. Which was great except for the fact that we couldn't get off as there was no one on the platform to receive us! So we sat there for 40 minutes until the morning shift came on. I took the opportunity to go back to the next car and wish my friends good luck and pleasant trails.
I was almost the first off the train, went to the baggage area, reclaimed my pack and sorted out my belongs. I slipped on my walking shoes buckled all of the straps so nothing tangled (I hate a messy looking pack and it can make things awkward getting on and off buses and in and out of cars or trucks). It was just after 8:00 n a Saturday morning and I was heading west.
Friday, July 15, 2011
Thursday, July 14, 2011
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
On the Road 2011
I have never travelled first class in an airplane, nor have I ever travelled on a luxury cruise ship - but to my mind travel by train is is the best way to travel. It is an absolute luxury to have nothing one can do or needs to do. I suppose on short trips such as the trip between Montreal and Toronto or between Calgary and Edmonton there are lots of business folks who madly type on their laptops or Blackberrys. However without WiFi on the train there is little that one can do while travelling the northern reaches on Ontario.
It was in fact initially bit frustrating not have access to the internet. Being able to do a blog on the train (and elsewhere) was one of reasons I bought this tablet. I was not the only one who was a bit irritated by the lack of internet access. My breakfast companion had an I-Pad. Every once in a while he or I would check with the other about access. But with one exception we never managed to get connected.
However there was another reason why I bought the tablet.I wanted to have the ability to carry countless books with me. So with no internet to play with I turned on my MP3 player and happily settled in to read some old classics such as She by Haggard and The Count of Monte Christo. Ocassonally I would look out the window at the lakes, but the vista was frequently limited by the trees that grow close to the rails. The scenery in Northern Ontario is truly remarkable when one can see it. If I had a billion dollars I would offer Via Rail the services of a crew that would clear back some of the brush so that other travellers could truly see the majesty that is our country.
Every once in a while the train would pull off onto a siding to let a freight train go by and even less often the train would stop at a small town to let someone off or on.
The train only stops once a day for a long enough period for the passengers to get off and walk around. On the way west the Ontario stop is Hornpayne. Hornpayne is a trainstop because because the train crews switch there and the train takes on food, water, and fresh linen. It takes about 45 minutes. Just as we entering this small town I noticed that there was protected internet site at the library. I was not the only one to notice. Numerous people all ran to the library and got the password so that they could send a note to their friends. I was delayed by meeting friends who were travelling on the same train and consequently almost ran out of time.
I had met this couple and their two children when I was selling my farm. They were very much interested in the property but it was just too far away from their work in Peterborough. I only see them a few times a year, usually at the Peterborough Folk Festival where they have a both selling their eco-clothing for children. They a great couple, down to earth and simple folks who know what they want in terms of life style and work hard to get it. They were off to Edmonton and points further north to spend their holidays at a working heavy horse farm. It sounded like a great vacation.
Some people bought some food at the store and the rest just hung around. There is truly not much to see in Hornepayne.We gradually drifted back on the train, settled in our seats, going back to what ever we were doing before we stopped.
It was in fact initially bit frustrating not have access to the internet. Being able to do a blog on the train (and elsewhere) was one of reasons I bought this tablet. I was not the only one who was a bit irritated by the lack of internet access. My breakfast companion had an I-Pad. Every once in a while he or I would check with the other about access. But with one exception we never managed to get connected.
However there was another reason why I bought the tablet.I wanted to have the ability to carry countless books with me. So with no internet to play with I turned on my MP3 player and happily settled in to read some old classics such as She by Haggard and The Count of Monte Christo. Ocassonally I would look out the window at the lakes, but the vista was frequently limited by the trees that grow close to the rails. The scenery in Northern Ontario is truly remarkable when one can see it. If I had a billion dollars I would offer Via Rail the services of a crew that would clear back some of the brush so that other travellers could truly see the majesty that is our country.
Every once in a while the train would pull off onto a siding to let a freight train go by and even less often the train would stop at a small town to let someone off or on.
The train only stops once a day for a long enough period for the passengers to get off and walk around. On the way west the Ontario stop is Hornpayne. Hornpayne is a trainstop because because the train crews switch there and the train takes on food, water, and fresh linen. It takes about 45 minutes. Just as we entering this small town I noticed that there was protected internet site at the library. I was not the only one to notice. Numerous people all ran to the library and got the password so that they could send a note to their friends. I was delayed by meeting friends who were travelling on the same train and consequently almost ran out of time.
I had met this couple and their two children when I was selling my farm. They were very much interested in the property but it was just too far away from their work in Peterborough. I only see them a few times a year, usually at the Peterborough Folk Festival where they have a both selling their eco-clothing for children. They a great couple, down to earth and simple folks who know what they want in terms of life style and work hard to get it. They were off to Edmonton and points further north to spend their holidays at a working heavy horse farm. It sounded like a great vacation.
Some people bought some food at the store and the rest just hung around. There is truly not much to see in Hornepayne.We gradually drifted back on the train, settled in our seats, going back to what ever we were doing before we stopped.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
On the Road 2011 #3
Breakfast on the train is always interesting and fun. The service is as good as any restaurant and the food is consistently tasty. The menu is a bit limited and does not cater to vegetarians, breakfast is easily made meatless. The home-fries were were nothing special but the scrambled eggs were absolutely perfect. (It was interesting to note that some of the diners had menus that had no prices on them but ours did. I think that those from the sleeper cars pay a flat fee for the whole trip which includes food. Later in the day there was an announcement that for certain travellers there was bingo. But not for the folks from the cheap seats. The class systems is alive and well on our trains !!)
However what I like best about eating on the train is the company. There is not enough space in a dining car for everyone to eat alone. Therefore they always sit you with someone else.. No matter how anti-social one might feel in the morning, if you want breakfast, you eat with someone else.
The first morning on the train I was sat with a gentleman (who turned out to be sitting just in front of me). He was coming back from visiting his daughter who lived somewhere north of Quebec City. He loved the train - in part because he hated driving. Which was interesting as he was a professional driver. He drove for a motor coach company that did tours. Much of his driving was between Winnipeg, his home town, and the nearest USA casino.We spent much of the long and leisurely breakfast talking about border issues and how one needs to be careful about paying tickets and in generally following the law if one wants to go back and forth across the border. My fellow diner told a few stories about drivers who had smuggled in cigarettes and had lost the ability to drive across the border. I was surprised to find out that if a passenger was refused entry to the USA, the bus company had no responsibility to get him back to his place of departure. If rejected, the person is left at the border and needs to find his on way back. There are no refunds.
After breakfast over we walked back to our car and our separate seats to spend the next 12 hours or so of daylight sleeping, reading, listening to music and sleeping some more. Not a very hard life at all.
However what I like best about eating on the train is the company. There is not enough space in a dining car for everyone to eat alone. Therefore they always sit you with someone else.. No matter how anti-social one might feel in the morning, if you want breakfast, you eat with someone else.
The first morning on the train I was sat with a gentleman (who turned out to be sitting just in front of me). He was coming back from visiting his daughter who lived somewhere north of Quebec City. He loved the train - in part because he hated driving. Which was interesting as he was a professional driver. He drove for a motor coach company that did tours. Much of his driving was between Winnipeg, his home town, and the nearest USA casino.We spent much of the long and leisurely breakfast talking about border issues and how one needs to be careful about paying tickets and in generally following the law if one wants to go back and forth across the border. My fellow diner told a few stories about drivers who had smuggled in cigarettes and had lost the ability to drive across the border. I was surprised to find out that if a passenger was refused entry to the USA, the bus company had no responsibility to get him back to his place of departure. If rejected, the person is left at the border and needs to find his on way back. There are no refunds.
After breakfast over we walked back to our car and our separate seats to spend the next 12 hours or so of daylight sleeping, reading, listening to music and sleeping some more. Not a very hard life at all.
On the Road #2
The Via Train was scheduled to leave at 5:15 AM Friday morning. Last year it was 3-4 hours late. I assumed that it would be late again this time. I wasn't disappointed, although this time the train was only 40 or so minutes late. It was nice sitting in the train station , reading the paper, half listening to the conversations of the others waiting for the same train.
When people ask me why I travel, there are a number of answers as to why.... but one of the reasons - perhaps the one that I discuss the least is that I am endlessly fascinated by people and their interactions with others and with their environment. I guess that I am just nosy.; I think my observations skills are less than they use to be. I have less need to use them and I have gotten lazy.
For the first 3 or 4 trips that I made I could easily see in my mind each driver that drove me and each bit of highway that I had stood upon. But the years have blurred such memories. There are spots that I have stood on almost every year. I know the highway shoulders just outside of Winnipeg, Calgary, Medicine Hat, Brandon, Golden, Salmon Arms or Revelstoke as well as I know the sidewalks outside my house. But when I stood on those spot and who picked me up is sometimes at bit vague. I was looking forward to seeing those spots - to touch that ground, to stand there with my thumb out - totally free - totally without any control as to where or when I would get to where ever I was going .
I got in the first car. It was almost empty. I had lots of choices where to sit. My favourite seating is on the right side of the bus or train. Not too sure why except that it is easier for me to sleep leaning against that window. While I was glad to have a seat to myself, the near empty car meant that there were fewer people to look at and possibly have a conversation with.
The train when it arrived was configured a bit differently than last year. On previous trips there had been at least two dinning cars - one for the rich folks that had table cloths and vases for real flowers etc and another one that was, to say the least, less well decorated. However this train only had one dining car and thus I got to have breakfast at a table with a real table cloth.
When people ask me why I travel, there are a number of answers as to why.... but one of the reasons - perhaps the one that I discuss the least is that I am endlessly fascinated by people and their interactions with others and with their environment. I guess that I am just nosy.; I think my observations skills are less than they use to be. I have less need to use them and I have gotten lazy.
For the first 3 or 4 trips that I made I could easily see in my mind each driver that drove me and each bit of highway that I had stood upon. But the years have blurred such memories. There are spots that I have stood on almost every year. I know the highway shoulders just outside of Winnipeg, Calgary, Medicine Hat, Brandon, Golden, Salmon Arms or Revelstoke as well as I know the sidewalks outside my house. But when I stood on those spot and who picked me up is sometimes at bit vague. I was looking forward to seeing those spots - to touch that ground, to stand there with my thumb out - totally free - totally without any control as to where or when I would get to where ever I was going .
I got in the first car. It was almost empty. I had lots of choices where to sit. My favourite seating is on the right side of the bus or train. Not too sure why except that it is easier for me to sleep leaning against that window. While I was glad to have a seat to myself, the near empty car meant that there were fewer people to look at and possibly have a conversation with.
The train when it arrived was configured a bit differently than last year. On previous trips there had been at least two dinning cars - one for the rich folks that had table cloths and vases for real flowers etc and another one that was, to say the least, less well decorated. However this train only had one dining car and thus I got to have breakfast at a table with a real table cloth.
Monday, July 11, 2011
On the Road - 2011
While this blog and the others to follow will be written mainly in the present tense, the actual events have occurred two or three weeks in the past.
Traveling up to Subury with the pack in the trunk and listening to Jack Kerouac's "On the Road" I could not help but want to park the car on the side of road, stick out my thumb and start the journey right there and then. I didn't of course - it would have been absurd - but I wanted to. It had taken me a long time to get to this point and I was impatient to get going.
True to my usual way of arranging my life, the last few days before leaving had been hectic - there always seems to be a few lose ends to tie up, people to visit and an apartment to clean. As always there was a sense that I had forgotten to do something.
Part of my sense of either occurring or impending chaos was related to my summer plans. It was potentially going to be a very busy summer. There was a Gathering in Washington State that I really wanted to go to, a smaller regional Gathering in the northern end of Vancouver Island and my son's wedding in mid-August. Of course there were friends to visit and I hoped enough time to do nothing on Salt Spring Island.
I got to Sudbury for supper on Thursday. As I parked the car in the driveway I realized once again that perhaps for the 10th summer that I would from now on be dependant upon other people to drive me - whether they be bus drivers, train engineers or travellers along the highway. I would have no control over any of those people - I would be, for the next 10 weeks, totally dependant upon other people. It was both a scary and a liberating feeling.
Traveling up to Subury with the pack in the trunk and listening to Jack Kerouac's "On the Road" I could not help but want to park the car on the side of road, stick out my thumb and start the journey right there and then. I didn't of course - it would have been absurd - but I wanted to. It had taken me a long time to get to this point and I was impatient to get going.
True to my usual way of arranging my life, the last few days before leaving had been hectic - there always seems to be a few lose ends to tie up, people to visit and an apartment to clean. As always there was a sense that I had forgotten to do something.
Part of my sense of either occurring or impending chaos was related to my summer plans. It was potentially going to be a very busy summer. There was a Gathering in Washington State that I really wanted to go to, a smaller regional Gathering in the northern end of Vancouver Island and my son's wedding in mid-August. Of course there were friends to visit and I hoped enough time to do nothing on Salt Spring Island.
I got to Sudbury for supper on Thursday. As I parked the car in the driveway I realized once again that perhaps for the 10th summer that I would from now on be dependant upon other people to drive me - whether they be bus drivers, train engineers or travellers along the highway. I would have no control over any of those people - I would be, for the next 10 weeks, totally dependant upon other people. It was both a scary and a liberating feeling.
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