On the Road Again 2017 #11

One would think that by now I would realize that a night spent under the lights of a Husky truck stop will probably less than fun. But every time I get to one, I feel excited - as if something magical is about to happen. It is good to be an optimist with especially thick skin. I was about to be disappointed again.

It was a fine truck stop. The restaurant was closed but the convenience store had all kinds of junk food, juice and coffee. The two young guys working there were nice and helpful. Some of the local people stopping for gas were friendly and even some of the truck drivers gave me a polite, if disinterested nod of the head. One in fact even suggested where I would have a better chance in getting a ride. He didn't however offer to give me a ride there. But it was a bit windy, there was nowhere to sit, the view was particularly uninspiring and it was boring. When I got there somewhere around 11:00 there were a few young guys hanging around picking through the garbage cans looking for bottles ( and who may have seen me as competition) and someone else trying to charge and set up a cell phone he had just purchased - but they were not interested in talking to me. The two folks inside were polite when we talked about when the restaurant would re-open and about how which direction to go in to catch the right bus, but they saw hundreds if not thousands of people a week passing through the store. They were not at all interested in my story. So I hung around, paced looked at people and in general tried to keep myself awake until the restaurant opened at 4:30 or so.

Until well past midnight I saw the odd city bus go past. I thought about getting on one but I had nowhere to go. As boring as was the Husky, I thought that downtown Calgary at 1:00 in the morning would be no better, and perhaps much worse. So I stayed, making eye contact with the odd truck driver who passed by me, occasionally changing where I had my pack and the sign on top to what may or may not have been a better location to catch someone's eye. I don't think it mattered. It was a long few hours. I am not too sure how I filled it. But the time did pass, the restaurant did open. It was normal breakfast of toast, scrambled eggs and homefries. I was hungry enough and had been thinking about it for so long that almost anything would have been good. Shortly after I finished and then had brushed my teeth - I saw that the buses were running. It was time to get on the road again.

On the Road Again 2017 #10

It was just after 9:00 when Francois and I got to Calgary. I was frustrated at getting to the city so late. If we had not stopped to eat, we could have gotten there an hour or two earlier and maybe, just maybe I could have gotten to Canmore in time for a hostel bed or room at the municipal campground. Arriving at 9:00 PM, on a Sunday in Calgary left me with very few options. I did not know what I was going to do. Francoise debated with himself whether or not he would drop the trailer and then sleep in his rented room for the first and last time that month or if he would just sleep in his truck. I perhaps somewhat selfishly suggested that he might has well sleep in a real bed - as it would be his last chance. He had promised me that if he did drop his trailer then he would drive me to the Flying J truck stop where I could get a meal and hang out for the night. He wasn't offering me a spot in his truck for the night. Sleeping outside a warehouse was not my idea of a good plan - I needed him to sleep in his own bed that night.

He eventually decided to drop his trailer where it could be unloaded the next morning and then go to his room. Neither he or I had a clue as to where to go but with the magic of GPS he found the warehouse easily. It was somewhere close to the airport but if he had let me out there I would have been totally lost. The thought that I could catch a plane to Nanaimo certainly crossed my mind, but it didn't stay there very long. It would have been an easy but I suspect rather expensive solution to my problem of needing a place to sleep. After dropping the trailer Francoise asked me for directions to the Flying J. I did not have a clue. I was surprised that a trucker did not know of it - it is, I think, the biggest truck stop in southern Alberta. GPS again came to our rescue. Of course it was in French so I could not always follow the instructions - but then I didn't have to - I was not driving. Perhaps I should have listened more closely. We were directed to a Flying J - but it was the wrong one. We ended up at a small, un-serviced set of fuel pumps. There was no one around and I was totally lost.

I asked if he could drop me off at a Tim Horton's or somewhere like that. After a few more twists and turns I saw a Husky sign and directed him there. As we drove up the street I saw a bus stop so I knew that the next morning I had a way out of town.

I profusely thanked Francoise. While it had be a long and somewhat verbally tiring journey - he had gone out of his way to get me to a reasonably safe spot to spend the night. Driving through Calgary at night, looking for a place for a relative stranger would have been a lot to ask of anyone. For a trucker who had just spent 13 hours driving, and who, while he had dropped the trailer, was still driving a big truck - it was well beyond what I could have expected. Once again I was in awe of the generosity of strangers.

 It had been a good trip and there I was, a bit late, a bit tired but in Calgary. Once again I had made it across the Canadian Prairies in one day. All in all it felt pretty good.

On the Road Again 2017 #9

My driver the previous night had suggested that the Trans-Canada was about a mile from downtown Portage. Early Sunday morning, as I trudged down the near empty streets, it certainly seemed a lot further than that. Perhaps one day I will drive across the country and measure exactly how accurate the estimates of some of my drivers are. Because they are in a vehicle, I think they always underestimate distances.

 There were not a lot of cars on the highway - a fair number of trucks but not many cars. All of the vehicles had had miles to build up their speed and it did not look as if any wanted to stop. Still I put on my optimistic, hopefully benign-looking face and settle down into what I assumed would be a long wait. However I was only there for about 10 minutes when a pick-up truck stopped and the driver invited me in.  My new driver was a farmer heading up the Yellowhead highway. That meant that I would be getting out at the same spot as Cam, my previous driver, had offered to drive me to the night previously. All things considered, I am glad that I had decided to get a good night's sleep. I had not lost any time by staying in a motel, I had had chance to eat something but most importantly, I had not had to spend the night fighting off the ever-hungry Manitoba mosquito.

I have lost count of the number of times I have stood at certain specific corners. Certainly the intersection of the Trans-Canada and the Yellowhead highway is a very familiar spot. I like it. There are stop lights that slow some of the traffic down, there is, across the road, a gas station where I could get water if I needed to and the shoulders are wide. What more could I ask for? I don't think I was there for anymore than 20-30 minutes when a transport truck slowed and then stopped for me. I was surprised in that large trucks seldom stop once the driver has got through a number of gears - it is just too much work for them. It may have been only the third or fourth time that a truck has stopped for me on the open highway.

Francois  had just started driving in Winnipeg and was therefore quite sure that we would be in Calgary by nightfall. In fact originally he thought we would be there by 5:30 or 6:00. Immediately I started to think about the possibility that I could get as far as Canmore or perhaps even Golden by nightfall - especially as I would go through two time zones and thereby gain two hours. My driver was from Quebec and had done much of his driving within that province. When we were talking about why he picked me up - he said it was because he wanted to practice his English. His pronunciation of most words was very good, sometimes almost without an accent, but he was insistent on struggling for the right word and the right tense. Whenever he made a minor error he apologized - something that after awhile became slightly irritating. As good as were his speaking skills, his listening skills were not as refined. It made it difficult to have a conversation as he frequently did not respond  to my comments. For example, at one point somewhere along the highway, there was a small plane that was flying across the highway, then circling to do it again. I mentioned to Francois that I thought it was illegal for a plane to fly so low - he kept on talking about his truck. As the plane flew closer to us I realized that it was spraying the fields. Again when I mentioned to my driver what I had seen - he gave no response.

Because of his limited listening skills and/or my poor speaking skills and in spite of the fact that I have lots of questions about trucks and trucking, our conversations were somewhat one-sided. But we did have long chats about trucks, dispatchers, the advantage of automatics (I suspect that one of the reasons why Francois did not mind stopping after getting going was that he was driving an automatic and therefore stopping and starting was less of a big deal for him), the stupidity of car drivers and the equal stupidity of governments who imposed limits on truck speeds (Francoise's  truck was mechanically limited to 105 KPH - the speed limit across the Prairies is 110 KPH). We talked about family, near death experiences (Francoise had been clinically dead after an accident when he was 19 and had to work hard to regain his speech and motor skills), relationships, about freedom and about trying to do the right thing in a world where the rules are seldom clear. It was an exhausting conversation in that I had to listen very hard to understand what he was saying.

We drove together for almost 13 hours but I got out of the truck in Calgary knowing less about Francois than many of my other drivers. I think he was a complex man or at least his complexities were harder to grasp due to our language barrier. He had been married - somewhat unhappily with his wife frequently accusing (unjustly according to him)  him of sleeping with other women while he was on the road. They had four children together and I think he tried to be a good dad - especially when the kids were teenagers and could understand why the marriage failed. He certainly loved his kids and did the best he could given his lifestyle. His life style, was to my way of thinking - terrible or at least one that I could never live. He had a pick-up truck in Calgary that he was selling the following day - he never used it. He had rented a room in Calgary and had slept in only one night in the last month. He had decided to give up the room as well. There was just no point in paying rent when he was just as happy sleeping in the truck.

Perhaps the most surprising thing about my driver was that he stopped twice for a meal. Truck drivers never stop for meals - at least not in the middle of the day. I bought his lunch but not his supper. I was a bit irritated in that the almost two hours we spent in restaurants meant that we would not get into Calgary at a reasonable hour. I am not sure if stopping for two meals was his normal routine or if he did it because he was enjoying my company or at least the opportunity to practice his English.  The place we stopped for supper was almost closing and I am not sure initially how pleased the waitress or the cook were when we entered. But he was a charming man and flirted his way into their good graces. It was hard to stay angry at him - even when he ordered dessert in both restaurants. I just wanted to travel!

On the Road Again 2017 #8

It was frustrating to arrive in Winnipeg nine hours late. In fact it had been a frustrating journey with numerous long waits, sometimes just a few kilometres outside of a train station. The most frustrating wait was just outside of Winnipeg. There we were. Just outside a major train station with numerous track and we just sat there. I could have walked into Winnipeg faster.

I suppose the only good news was that the train was quite empty and therefore we all had a lot of space to stretch out in. Of course for VIA Rail, the near empty cars meant that they were not making a lot of money - on the other hand fewer passengers meant that there were fewer people to grumble and complain.

 The buses were, understandably, a bit slow. It was, after all, just after 5:00 PM on a Saturday evening by the time I got to a bus stop. It was also windy - windy even by Winnipeg's standards; I was not alone in having a hard time walking against the wind. I had thought about staying in Winnipeg for the night, but I did not want to pay for a high price hotel room, lacked the energy to figure out where the hostels were and really did not want to be in Winnipeg on a Sunday morning when the buses, if anything, would be even fewer. As I stood on the highway just past the exit at the Flying J truck stop around 6:15 or so it felt like the right decision. The wind was blowing hard but the road was clear and I was glad to be on it once again.

 A fellow hitchhiker passed me. We said "hi" but neither of us were in the mood to talk and he was on his way. I think he was one of hitchhikers who liked to walk and so before long he had passed out of my vision. Either that or he had got a ride faster than me.

 I had been at my spot for no more than 20 minutes when a pick-up truck stopped and the driver offered me a drive. Cam was a farmer from somewhere north west of Winnipeg. One of the first things he said to me was that he did not like cities but preferred to live far away from the crowds. He raised grass raised beef and pork, as well as some organic chickens. He had a nice little business in selling his products to individuals and at a farmer's market. He was proud of what he raised - meat without chemicals, animals that were humanely treated and respected. We spent our short trip together talking about marketing boards, how hard it was for young farmers to get started and the dangers of factory farms. It was somewhat reassuring to know that the values and lessons that I had learned from some of the small farms in Ontario coincided with the opinions of a farmer who owned over 1600 acres. I however, never told him that I did not eat meat.

He also talked, briefly about his other job. He had been part of the Canadian Armed Forces special forces. After he had left the army, he had worked privately for a number of organizations in various parts of the Middle East doing training etc. I suppose he was some sort of mercenary. His other job came up in our conversation because he had been offered another contract. I don't think he really wanted to do it but it was that money that allowed him to buy the farm and to continue to farm the way he wanted to. He agreed with me when I mentioned the strange juxtaposition of running an organic, ethical farm somewhat holistic farm and a being a soldier. Something seems wrong when a farmer, trying to do the right thing in terms of raising animals, needs to go to another country to teach others how to kill humans so that he can afford to do what he wants to do.

Cam had to stop in Portage to drop a check at the bank and then was heading up the Yellowhead Highway. As much as I wanted to be travelling, it made no sense for me to be stuck at the intersection of two highways as the sun was setting. He drove me to a motel and I got out. I do wish he had been heading further west. It would have been an interesting and enjoyable conversation.

I ended up staying in the motel that I stayed in on my first trip west. I mentioned this to the Asian women who checked me in. She said "Oh it is so much cleaner now". It may have been cleaner but it was more boring. Gone was the eclectic colour scheme and the use of multiple coloured/mismatched bathroom tiles. It may have been more colour coordinated  but it was lacking in personality. I was offered the seniors discount although she said I was looked too young - I had to show my driver's license before she believed me.

 I found a restaurant still open and had a grill cheese sandwich and some fries.....neither were spectacular but it was nice to eat warm food for the first time in 36 hours.

Letter to VIA Rail

Yves Desjardins-Siciliano,

President and Chief Executive Officer

VIA Rail Canada inc.
P.O. Box. 8116, Station "A"
Montréal (Québec) H3C 3N3

1019 - 2885 Boys Road

Duncan, B.C.

V9L 4Y9

June 18, 2017

Re: Train # 1 - departing Sudbury June 9, 2017

Sir

I have been riding trains in Canada for over 60 years. In fact some of my earliest memories are of travelling as a young child by train from Montreal to the Laurentians. As well, my family travelled by train to Old Orchard Beach in Maine for a number of our summer vacations, and while attending university in New Brunswick, I regularly travelled between that province and my home in Montreal. More recently, I have once or twice a year gone between Sudbury and Vancouver to visit family. I like trains.

However my most recent trip on VIA Rail to Winnipeg was not enjoyable.  The train left Sudbury Junction just over an hour late. That, in itself is not unusual as the train is almost never on time. However by the time we got to Winnipeg the train was nine (9) hours late. That is not acceptable. What is even more alarming is the fact that I overheard a VIA employee telling a passenger that nine hours was much later than usual on the trip west but that being six hours late coming east was not unusual. That too, unfortunately has been my experience. It is absurd that a national railroad accepts the fact that it will be chronically late. VIA rail, as demonstrated by the fine print on the boarding pass that says that VIA accepts that there will be "significant delays" and that passengers "do not arrange connecting transportation on the day of your arrival" has given up on trying to run a transportation system that works.

I understand that there are an ever increasing number of longer and longer freight trains and that these freight trains no longer can fit on the sidings; I also understand that VIA Rail does not own the tracks and therefore apparently feels subservient to the freight carrying trains. But I do not understand why VIA Rail has accepted the ever increasing deterioration of its trans-continental system. In a country as large as Canada, and in one that was shaped by the creation of a national railroad, it makes no sense that in 2017 we do not have one that can be anywhere near on time.

 I can think of no other public transportation system that would allow or be allowed to serve its passengers so poorly. It is embarrassing to hear visitors from other countries complain about the terrible service. It is frustrating when a number of passengers say that they would never travel by train again and there is no argument from anyone on the train.

VIA Rail needs to at least start a public discussion of how to fix this issue. I, as a long term customer, would like to be informed as to what steps VIA rail is taking to address the issue of chronic lateness.  I will expect to hear a response from you within the next 15 working days. If I don't, I will pursue the issue in a more public forum.

Thank you

John David Woodall