This entry published a day after it was written.
It was an SUV that started it. It had a Texas license plate. It reminded me of a game we played during the California sabbatical in 1985, namely license plate spotting. Over the course of several months we got all fifty states plus Washington, D.C.. Then in Yellowstone National Park we started again and got into the thirties in one day if memory serves.
It is both easier and harder on a bike as more vehicles pass you but harder to read them, especially some of the “picture” plates. Also, some cheaters have license plate holders which hide the name of the state. Still, I have a high observation skill despite second rate vision, especially through sweaty sunglasses.
My tally for the first day was the six big provinces, plus a possible on the Yukon, and about half the states, including probables. I found the distribution interesting as most of the Western mountain states were present as well as Alaska, but not Wyoming. There were “Nothern tier Midwestern” states, and several from Florida but relatively few Southern or Atlantic states.
There was also an Audi with what looked like a white rear European plate but I couldn’t verify the country. I did verify a Swiss plate on a camper. At a lookout, I spoke with the owners who were from the German-speaking part of Switzerland. I have also worked out that vehicles coming up in my rear view mirror without lights on area likely to be American and therefore worthy of more attention.
The scenery was naturally beautiful. On the left there was a range of mountains which were in essence a single sheet of sedimentary rock angled up at about 45 degrees. The slope on “my” side was fairly consistent but anything but on the other. I later learnt this was the Endless Range.
For dumb reasons, I missed the Athabasca Falls. I made up for it by taking in the Sunwapta Falls, which had similarities with Maligne Canyon in being what I think of as a “slot” canyon, i.e. very much deeper than wide. (I was able to confirm Utah in the parking lot.)
The Icefields Parkway has a no commercial trucks policy. I was therefore a bit surprised when a pickup truck pulling the rotating thing at the front of a combine behind it. Then again it wasn’t a commercial truck per se.
I think the Icefields Parkway should ban motorcycles which produce more than necessary noise. No need for wankers on Harleys.
I arrived a bit early at the Beauty Creek Hostel but the only employee on site was prepared to check me in and give me the lowdown on the facilities or lack thereof. No electricity, running water, showers... but plenty of the patina of hostel ageing. When I lay down on my bunk, I discovered that someone had secured a tourist map of New Zealand to the bottom of the bunk above! It also a bunch of license plates attached to the roof of the porch of the Cook House which confirmed my sightings of two states.
For quite some time, I was the only guest despite the place being booked solid. I boiled water to add to some freeze dried Saigon-style noodles and bits which I think have been on a few too many of my trips as backup food in case I wind up in a motel without food being near, such as the Midway Motel in Newfoundland. Its' use was planned in this instance. It was tasty and filling.
Then a party of eleven hydrophobic Italians arrived. I say hydrophobic as they seemed overly troubled by a sprinkle of rain. They rather dominated the cook house making some unknown dish involving pasta of some description, canned peas and ham. Possibly more, but I was only too glad to get out of their way, especially as my supper had been what it had been. Also one of them had commented favourably on me sipping what I think she took to be something sophisticated from a wineglass. It was, in fact, Newfoundland Screech.
My research had indicated a considerable climb to the Icefields
Discovery Centre, as in 440 m in the last 10 km of the 17 or so between Beauty Creek and it. It was a panting climb with many stops along the way. I climbed into the clouds and stopped at a strange structure that loomed out of the mist to attach to my helmet and turn on a red blinky. This proved to be part of the Glacier Skywalk. Naturally, the road then plunged out of the cloud in a “wheeing” 60+ km/h descent. (I forgot to turn off the blinky light but it is USB rechargeable.) I was annoyed by a headwind which I later worked out to be a katabaric wind blowing down from the Columbia Icefield.
I made the Icefield Centre in due time to catch my reservation to do a glacier tour via Snocoach and a 33 percent grade. It was what it was. I kept on wondering what the Paternal Unit with his PhD in glacial geology would make of the experience. He would not have been impressed with the driver of the bus back to the Skywalk who talked about how a recent landslide had revealed fossil “troglodytes”.
(Sic)
I am pretty sure she meant trilobites.
I shouldn’t have bothered with the Skywalk but it was included in the ticket. Thankfully or possibly not, the mist had burned off and from the Skywalk’s semi-circular, glass floored walkway, you could get marvellous views of the valley floor too many feet below, unless you kept your gaze very much on the surrounding peaks. As I said to a couple of the staff members who later asked how I found it: “It is no place for the acrophobic.”
As I got into the bus back to the Centre, a little boy of Asian extraction excitedly exclaimed “Look! A real cowboy hat!” He was so sweet that I didn’t have the heart to tell him my Tilley hat wasn’t a cowboy hat.
Anyway, back to the Bike and yet another wardrobe change. Up over the height of land between the Arctic and Atlantic (Hudson’s Bay) drainage basins and down with a lot of “whee” through a stunningly beautiful and majestic valley that felt it belonged on the cover of a travel guide or a provincial road map.
It was stunning. Almost to the point wanting to cry.
I was interested to note there was a subtle difference to the geology of the new set of mountains. Or perhaps I had become bored by the mountains on the other side of the pass. Then again, hanging glaciers and permanent ice caps are hard to beat.
I was happy to have disc brakes on the long, fast downhill. No worries about rims overheating.
About an hour later, I was biking along a flattish bit when I spotted a decent sized black bear on the road ahead. I stopped well outside of the Parks Canada recommended 100 m distance. I was pondering the best thing to do next as the bear was stationary, when a tour bus passed me and stopped somewhat closer to the bear. Close enough for the bear to turn around and head into the nearby woods. It lingered a bit, so I decided I would use the bus as cover in order to get past the bear. The bus left before I reached it, but then a series of cars came the other way, forming a barrier between the bear and me.
A few kilometres later, a campsite had a closure notice on account of wolf on it!
The Philippino couple in Jasper had stayed at the Beauty Creek hostel and I think it was outside of their comfort zone. Among other things, it has a firm policy to keep bears from food. This may have been at the heart of their question: “Have you ever been chased by wild animals?” My answer was “Yes. Goldfinches have chased me. Red-winged blackbirds as well.” (I had forgotten the odd Canada goose.) This rather took them aback, expecting some tale of being chased by a bear or something.
While I have worried about theoretical bear encounters, and was concerned when I saw either a wolf or a coyote near Cranbrook when Edward was new, until today, I never had to put anything into practice. And even today, there was little to be afraid of.
Parks Canada has lots of warnings out not disturbing the wildlife. However, in many respects, these are aimed more at the larger mammals. I don’t feel the need to keep 20 m away from a least chipmunk. For one thing, I am not sure I would be able to spot one at that distance. Likewise, what is the Parks Canada approved method for dealing with a whisky jack trying to get at the sandwich you are eating? Also, I pretty sure I am not going to get a $25,000 fine for swatting mosquitoes and black flies. For that matter, if I don’t swat them and they feed on me, does this mean I fed the animals? ;-)
At some point, I think I saw a license plate in the shape of a polar bear which means Nunavut or the NWT. I remember there was bickering over who got to continue issuing them after Nunavut split off from the NWT but I don’t remember what the final decision was. Also, I am not sure I saw it.
I arrived at the Crossing Resort in good time. I was positively thrilled to learn they had a laundry as I had skipped washing my clothes the night before. They also had an ice machine. They didn’t have an Internet connection worthy of the name.
Unfortunately, there is a higher pass tomorrow. This means I have climb up all that “whee” again. Grumble.
Sunday, 11 August 2019
Thursday, 8 August 2019
On four instances of good luck in Jasper
Www.Tekarracolorlab.com
Remember that URL. If you are ever in need of camera help in Jasper, go to Tekarra Color on Patricia Street.
My camera had been giving me battery overheating warnings the instant I turned it on despite the fact I have just replaced the batteries. I had been thinking on sending the camera, the spare batteries and the charger ahead to Saskatoon along with other unwanted bits. I was ambling along and popped into Tekarra Color camera shop to see if someone there could fix the issue. I pointed out a little corrosion on one of the connections as being a possible cause of the problem. The gentleman behind the counter was so sure, but instead cleaned the connections with a swab anointed in a cleaning solution. After replacing the batteries, the camera seemed to work normally.
Today, I biked up to Maligne Canyon partly by mountain bike trails. Maligne Canyon in some senses is the opposite of the Grand Canyon being very much smaller but all the more remarkable as at some points it is something like 60 meters deep but only 2 meters wide. I could jump it! The camera got a good work out.
I biked back along more mountain bike trails and the Fairmount Jasper Park Lodge. The latter has the initials JPL and may explain why I overheard a woman yesterday talk about having worked at JPL which meant to me at the time “Jet Propulsion Laboratory,” a part of NASA.
At a section of single track trail, I met an Englishwoman going the other way, having just come up a rise. She stopped and from he glances backwards she was waiting for somebody to catch up. I didn’t want to meet the person in mid-hill, so I pulled off to wait. Thankfully, I did as the Englishwoman commented that someone had lost a shoe. I turned around to see one of my sandals on the trail, despite having firmly put a cord through it. I thanked her profusely which with she said was nothing. I replied that I’d once had a nervous break-down triggered by losing a pair of sandals. (In Eastend, Saskatchewan to precise.)
I went downtown to investigate various ways to spend my afternoon. I stopped into Tekarra Color on Patricia Street to thank the man who had cured my camera. Before I did so, he looked at me and asked if had been in yesterday. I said yes, you fixed my camera and I am here to thank you for it. He reached beside the cash and produced my helmet mounted rear view mirror. It had been in my convertible handlebar bag/fanny pack where my camera had been stored. Evidently, it had fallen out. I noticed its absence from the bag earlier in the day but assumed it was back at the Hostel. I thanked him profusely and promised to say nice things about the place on my blog.
Remember: Www.Tekarracolorlab.com, Tekarra Color on Patricia Street in Jasper.
I returned to the Hostel to sort out bits to send to Saskatoon and shower. A Philippino couple from Los Angeles arrived as I sorted through my clobber. They were interested and moderately amazed by my cycle-touring.
I returned to the downtown area to mail my duffle bag, pedal wrench and the extra clothes I brought for the Train ahead. I bought a sandwich for tomorrow’s lunch and wandered in to an outdoor store in search for a bandanna. They didn’t have one. However, as I was about to leave, I noticed they had Tilley Hats including one in a size and colour for me in order to replace my old one which went AWOL some time ago. I have been relying on a old black U.S. Army pattern BDU cap which has some unfortunate connections and doesn’t cover my ears or the back of my neck. So I now have a proper hat for times when the helmet isn’t needed.
The Icefields Parkway tomorrow.
Remember that URL. If you are ever in need of camera help in Jasper, go to Tekarra Color on Patricia Street.
My camera had been giving me battery overheating warnings the instant I turned it on despite the fact I have just replaced the batteries. I had been thinking on sending the camera, the spare batteries and the charger ahead to Saskatoon along with other unwanted bits. I was ambling along and popped into Tekarra Color camera shop to see if someone there could fix the issue. I pointed out a little corrosion on one of the connections as being a possible cause of the problem. The gentleman behind the counter was so sure, but instead cleaned the connections with a swab anointed in a cleaning solution. After replacing the batteries, the camera seemed to work normally.
Today, I biked up to Maligne Canyon partly by mountain bike trails. Maligne Canyon in some senses is the opposite of the Grand Canyon being very much smaller but all the more remarkable as at some points it is something like 60 meters deep but only 2 meters wide. I could jump it! The camera got a good work out.
I biked back along more mountain bike trails and the Fairmount Jasper Park Lodge. The latter has the initials JPL and may explain why I overheard a woman yesterday talk about having worked at JPL which meant to me at the time “Jet Propulsion Laboratory,” a part of NASA.
At a section of single track trail, I met an Englishwoman going the other way, having just come up a rise. She stopped and from he glances backwards she was waiting for somebody to catch up. I didn’t want to meet the person in mid-hill, so I pulled off to wait. Thankfully, I did as the Englishwoman commented that someone had lost a shoe. I turned around to see one of my sandals on the trail, despite having firmly put a cord through it. I thanked her profusely which with she said was nothing. I replied that I’d once had a nervous break-down triggered by losing a pair of sandals. (In Eastend, Saskatchewan to precise.)
I went downtown to investigate various ways to spend my afternoon. I stopped into Tekarra Color on Patricia Street to thank the man who had cured my camera. Before I did so, he looked at me and asked if had been in yesterday. I said yes, you fixed my camera and I am here to thank you for it. He reached beside the cash and produced my helmet mounted rear view mirror. It had been in my convertible handlebar bag/fanny pack where my camera had been stored. Evidently, it had fallen out. I noticed its absence from the bag earlier in the day but assumed it was back at the Hostel. I thanked him profusely and promised to say nice things about the place on my blog.
Remember: Www.Tekarracolorlab.com, Tekarra Color on Patricia Street in Jasper.
I returned to the Hostel to sort out bits to send to Saskatoon and shower. A Philippino couple from Los Angeles arrived as I sorted through my clobber. They were interested and moderately amazed by my cycle-touring.
I returned to the downtown area to mail my duffle bag, pedal wrench and the extra clothes I brought for the Train ahead. I bought a sandwich for tomorrow’s lunch and wandered in to an outdoor store in search for a bandanna. They didn’t have one. However, as I was about to leave, I noticed they had Tilley Hats including one in a size and colour for me in order to replace my old one which went AWOL some time ago. I have been relying on a old black U.S. Army pattern BDU cap which has some unfortunate connections and doesn’t cover my ears or the back of my neck. So I now have a proper hat for times when the helmet isn’t needed.
The Icefields Parkway tomorrow.
Wednesday, 7 August 2019
On Jasper’s new HI Hostel
It was well after 12:20 when I arrived in Jasper. After retrieving the Bike and my duffel, I put on biking shoes and generally got ready to roll. A young man who sounded German made various comments about how he travelled with a bike trailer which wasn’t terribly helpful, or, for that matter, germane. I pointed out that I had behind using this system for more than ten years!
Among the passengers who disembarked was an elderly lady (closing ninety I would guess) who walked slowly with the aid of two hiking poles. I gently teased/flattered her by asking if she was off to climb Mt Robson. I think she was amused.
Once Leonardo was loaded, I headed off to the HI Hostel. However, I stopped almost immediately to take in the sight of a pair of RCMP officers in full red serge going down the street on horseback! While I watched, small children were handed up to the officers to have their picture taken.
It was too early to check in but I was allowed to dump excess gear. I returned to the town core where I raided the tourist information rack for pamphlets and repaired to a brewery to sit and have a sleeve of beer as I got to grips with being off the Train and start to plan the next phase of this trip in detail. This was partly aimed at killing time until I could check in.
I checked in using my HI Hosteling life membership (courtesy of Margo) for the first time. This hostel was so new, they are still working on it, notably the elevator. In turn, this meant that I got an extra 10% off. The place seems very well laid out with wide corridors and staircases. It still smells new. It also is a shade impersonal and cold. However, I suspect that once it is finished and the patina of use is allowed to accumulate along the random posters and bits hostels inevitably acquire it will be very nice. Certainly their bike locker is well thought-out and easy to use. Bike lock-ups are, of course, of capital importance to the making of a first rate hostel.*
I do have a few, very minor, complaints. The first complaint is that I was initially assigned a top bunk. When I came down from the room for my second load of clobber, I asked for and got a lower bunk. The second grumble is that I am at least among the ninety-fifth age percentile among the guests. I feel old here. ;-) Where are the grey-haired hikers?
* At least in my biased opinion ;-)
Among the passengers who disembarked was an elderly lady (closing ninety I would guess) who walked slowly with the aid of two hiking poles. I gently teased/flattered her by asking if she was off to climb Mt Robson. I think she was amused.
Once Leonardo was loaded, I headed off to the HI Hostel. However, I stopped almost immediately to take in the sight of a pair of RCMP officers in full red serge going down the street on horseback! While I watched, small children were handed up to the officers to have their picture taken.
It was too early to check in but I was allowed to dump excess gear. I returned to the town core where I raided the tourist information rack for pamphlets and repaired to a brewery to sit and have a sleeve of beer as I got to grips with being off the Train and start to plan the next phase of this trip in detail. This was partly aimed at killing time until I could check in.
I checked in using my HI Hosteling life membership (courtesy of Margo) for the first time. This hostel was so new, they are still working on it, notably the elevator. In turn, this meant that I got an extra 10% off. The place seems very well laid out with wide corridors and staircases. It still smells new. It also is a shade impersonal and cold. However, I suspect that once it is finished and the patina of use is allowed to accumulate along the random posters and bits hostels inevitably acquire it will be very nice. Certainly their bike locker is well thought-out and easy to use. Bike lock-ups are, of course, of capital importance to the making of a first rate hostel.*
I do have a few, very minor, complaints. The first complaint is that I was initially assigned a top bunk. When I came down from the room for my second load of clobber, I asked for and got a lower bunk. The second grumble is that I am at least among the ninety-fifth age percentile among the guests. I feel old here. ;-) Where are the grey-haired hikers?
* At least in my biased opinion ;-)
On the Canadian, still
Yesterday, I casually pondered the possibility of overshooting Saskatoon when I return by bike and stopping at Watrous to visit a nearby salt lake. I would then go back to Saskatoon on the Train which goes through Westbound on Fridays in order to catch my flight back to Montreal.
The Train was supposed to get into Jasper at 6:30. I set my alarm for 6 in order to see where they added the panorama car. My theory was either just behind my car or near the Prestige cars in the rear. I awoke before the alarm whereupon I checked my location on Google maps. The Canadian was only about a third of the way from Edmonton to Jasper. I turned off the alarm, pulled on my trousers and set off aft in search of the panorama car. It wasn’t just behind my car and from the “B” sleeper dome car, it was obviously not between it and the Park car. Forward, I couldn’t see well enough in the fog. Oh, well. “Back to bed, said Fred” to quote a well-loved picture book.
I rose again around 7 and headed to the dining car for continental breakfast. I sat with a young couple from France who said they had been surprised by the new car that had been added during the night that was between their sleeper and the dining car. They had wondered jokingly if they had made a wrong turn. (The mystery of the Panorama car was solved.) They were amazed that the car could have been added to the middle of a train like that. Like many Europeans on the Canadian, they marvel at the size and varied nature of the Canadian landscapes.
The delay allowed me to get brunch. I hoped there might be French toast stuffed with cheesecake, a dish Via used to do on the Jasper day. Alas, it wasn’t on the menu but I did have good chat with an expatriate Canadian from San Diego who got on in Edmonton at about 2:30 in the morning! He is getting off in Jasper too.
The Train was supposed to get into Jasper at 6:30. I set my alarm for 6 in order to see where they added the panorama car. My theory was either just behind my car or near the Prestige cars in the rear. I awoke before the alarm whereupon I checked my location on Google maps. The Canadian was only about a third of the way from Edmonton to Jasper. I turned off the alarm, pulled on my trousers and set off aft in search of the panorama car. It wasn’t just behind my car and from the “B” sleeper dome car, it was obviously not between it and the Park car. Forward, I couldn’t see well enough in the fog. Oh, well. “Back to bed, said Fred” to quote a well-loved picture book.
I rose again around 7 and headed to the dining car for continental breakfast. I sat with a young couple from France who said they had been surprised by the new car that had been added during the night that was between their sleeper and the dining car. They had wondered jokingly if they had made a wrong turn. (The mystery of the Panorama car was solved.) They were amazed that the car could have been added to the middle of a train like that. Like many Europeans on the Canadian, they marvel at the size and varied nature of the Canadian landscapes.
The delay allowed me to get brunch. I hoped there might be French toast stuffed with cheesecake, a dish Via used to do on the Jasper day. Alas, it wasn’t on the menu but I did have good chat with an expatriate Canadian from San Diego who got on in Edmonton at about 2:30 in the morning! He is getting off in Jasper too.
Tuesday, 6 August 2019
On people on the Canadian
So far I have met Germans, Uruguayans, Luxembourgers, Swiss, a Chinese-German dual national and Japanese on this trip. Not to mention Canadians and Americans. These include Jim and Jean from Tallahassee, Florida on their 40th anniversary trip, James the artist on board from Hamilton, and a professor in tourism development from Kamloops who was wearing a rail-trail t-shirt from Otago in New Zealand. It had a clever logo of a bike with smoke coming out of the handlebars as if it were a steam engine.
Winnipeg went by in the dark. I awoke as the train left the Qu’Appelle Valley which was a pity as it is beautiful. There was a herd of bison next to the track at one point.
The train stopped at Melville where we allowed off for a few minutes with admonition not to get too far. “Remember, the next train is only in a few days!”
We have made up some time as we were only a bit more than three hours late leaving Melville. For some of us, this is no bad thing as getting off the Train in Jasper at 6:30 AM was seen as less than desirable! I hope that the stop in Saskatoon will not significantly cut as I want to pop into the station there to snag any useful Saskatchewan tourism brochures available.
At one point, the Canadian was running beside a lesser provincial highway. I used the opportunity to see what the paved shoulder situation was. It looked pretty good though it wasn’t a stretch I would be using. However, it might be representative of Saskatchewan’s highway standards.
Later:
Saskatoon Station is a sad place, a shadow of former times including the remains of old platforms from the days when it was a junction point. I went inside looking for tourism info and found only a rack of Saskatoon pamphlets and two lonely vending machines aside from Via Rail counters and empty concession booths.
Winnipeg went by in the dark. I awoke as the train left the Qu’Appelle Valley which was a pity as it is beautiful. There was a herd of bison next to the track at one point.
The train stopped at Melville where we allowed off for a few minutes with admonition not to get too far. “Remember, the next train is only in a few days!”
We have made up some time as we were only a bit more than three hours late leaving Melville. For some of us, this is no bad thing as getting off the Train in Jasper at 6:30 AM was seen as less than desirable! I hope that the stop in Saskatoon will not significantly cut as I want to pop into the station there to snag any useful Saskatchewan tourism brochures available.
At one point, the Canadian was running beside a lesser provincial highway. I used the opportunity to see what the paved shoulder situation was. It looked pretty good though it wasn’t a stretch I would be using. However, it might be representative of Saskatchewan’s highway standards.
Later:
Saskatoon Station is a sad place, a shadow of former times including the remains of old platforms from the days when it was a junction point. I went inside looking for tourism info and found only a rack of Saskatoon pamphlets and two lonely vending machines aside from Via Rail counters and empty concession booths.
Monday, 5 August 2019
On a few days on the Train
August 3
The ride up from Union Station to my cousin’s house was a bit confused by a map that tested my (poor) eyesight and the effects of a Pride parade. I am not sure if was officially “Gay Pride” or whether it was “LGBTQ (and whatever letters have been added) Pride”. It was also hot and humid.
I made my way up to my cousin’s house and let myself in, carefully following her instructions and mentally rehearsing my explanation to the police or security agents if I got it wrong. My cousin and her husband were in Halifax for the weekend but were kind enough to offer me a bed for the night in their absence.
August 4
This morning was cooler. It was an easy downhill ride to Union Station. I had been expecting to have to partially disassemble the bike as that was what Via Rail’s website said. However, the person manning the checked baggage counter said wasn’t necessary as the baggage car on my train had racks for bikes! Had I known this, I wouldn’t have brought a bike bag with me. I then took a step away to take off my bike shoes and organize my luggage into checked and carry-on categories. After checking in the bike and a duffle bag, I went to the Business Lounge to get my meal reservation ticket. There was a fair number of people already there, even though I had arrived with plenty of time to deal with the bike. I was mildly surprised that Via Rail currently serves “Continental breakfast” 6:30-8:30 (no reservations), Brunch 9:30-1:30 (first come, first serve) and Supper (reservations for 5, 7, 9).
My dining car had a special livery about Churchill, Manitoba. Not sure why.
The Canadian left on time. I was interested to note that even an hour out of Union Station, we were still in suburbia. The Greater Toronto Area is fairly large. Then again, the Train leaves Union Station heading Westwards, before turning North before then going East for some distance. It then heads North on the Bala subdivision.
At brunch, I was seated with a pair of grandparents from Uruguay with whom I spoke mostly in French and a man from Moose Jaw. When the waiter asked if I would like a mimosa, I answered with an emphatic “Yes, please!” The Uruguayans were traveling with one of their offspring, the spouse and two grandchildren who were seated at the next table.
The man in the roomette across from me would be described on Amtrak as a “foamer”. On Via, the term employed is “DRF”, for Dedicated (or possibly Demented) Rail Fan. He has an engineer’s cap loaded with Via Rail pins, a Via Rail sweatshirt and a radio scanner to listen into what the train crew is saying. He installed himself in his roomette by putting an Ontario license plate number “VIA RAIL” in the window.. Curiously enough, his roomette was the one I had been assigned, until about a month after booking when I phoned Via Rail to ask if I could have a cabin on the North side of the train. I was intrigued by him at first. This wore off when I heard him pontificate in a dome car. His statements had a Munchausian quality to them, containing grains of truth in lake of chaff. I had the misfortune to sit with him at supper where he proved to be a tiresome dinner companion. His exaggerations were both obvious and boring. Thankfully, there was a nice couple from Michigan as well who were much more interesting.
The weather has been absolutely gorgeous. At Capreol, I got out with many of my fellow passengers to stretch my legs and walk the length of the 21 cars outside. I know there are 21 cars as I counted them. The second locomotive (of two) is no 5459 which became that number after it appeared on the $10 bill with its original number 5403.
After supper, I moseyed back to the Park car where I chatted with the artist on board in the bullet lounge. He was from Hamilton. The DRF came by. A young couple from Washington, DC, asked about what to do in Vancouver. The DRF suggested Wreck Beach. I let the cat out of the bag and enlightened the couple as to the fact that it is a nudist beach.
At some point, a man of East Asian descent wearing shorts and flip-flops came in and asked, a shade disoriented sounding, if this was the end of the train? I said: “Yes, unless you jump out the back. But I believe that’s against Via Rail policy!” glancing at a crew member meaningfully. The East Asian left prompting speculation that he had got turned around.
There are signs on doors towards the back of the train saying the Park car is reserved for Prestige passengers only between 6 AM and 4 PM. The signs are in English, French, German and what is probably Chinese. As well, all but the last two rows of the Park car’s dome are reserved for Prestige passengers. Tonight, I boldly sat in one of the forbidden chairs. Unsurprisingly, no one complained as there was only one other passenger up there and he wasn’t Prestige class.
August 5th
The night went by with the usual wakings expected of the first night. These later became a series of disturbing dreams in which I “awoke” from a dream into another dream, sometimes verging into nightmare. I came to in the early morning light of Hornepayne. This meant the train was well behind schedule.
After a continental breakfast, or at least what Via Rail calls a “continental breakfast”, I went a Skyline car dome. As I did so, we left Longlac where upon I spotted a pair of American white pelicans perched on a rock in the “lac” in question. Pelicans are fun birds to watch. They are also easy to identify.
The Canadian has the policy of dealing with time changes by having train time change after supper. This, by the train we are currently 8:48 Central Daylight Savings time. However, the true local time is 9:48 Eastern Daylight Time and will be for another 4 hours or so. The classic sleeping cars have a pair of washrooms at the front end of them. The one of the left (looking forward) is usually marked for men, and the other for women. I have always respected the signage. However, on the car following mine (“Lorne Manor”), the washrooms are marked for both sexes. So I happened to use the right hand one. I was surprised to see it was configured differently, with the washbasin to the side and a large mirror with a shelf and a stool beneath it. My conclusion (which I hope doesn’t sound sexist) was that it was intended (back in the day) to allow ladies to apply makeup in relative comfort.
The kilometres long container trains continue to amaze me. While they are very long, they are relatively light compared to mineral hauling trains. Typically they only have a pair of locomotives hauling them. (I have seen pictures, circa 1970, of freights being hauled through the Rockies by six or more locomotives.) Mind you, this means they are slow to accelerate to the speed limit hence why CN is reluctant to stop them, unless necessary.
The ride up from Union Station to my cousin’s house was a bit confused by a map that tested my (poor) eyesight and the effects of a Pride parade. I am not sure if was officially “Gay Pride” or whether it was “LGBTQ (and whatever letters have been added) Pride”. It was also hot and humid.
I made my way up to my cousin’s house and let myself in, carefully following her instructions and mentally rehearsing my explanation to the police or security agents if I got it wrong. My cousin and her husband were in Halifax for the weekend but were kind enough to offer me a bed for the night in their absence.
August 4
This morning was cooler. It was an easy downhill ride to Union Station. I had been expecting to have to partially disassemble the bike as that was what Via Rail’s website said. However, the person manning the checked baggage counter said wasn’t necessary as the baggage car on my train had racks for bikes! Had I known this, I wouldn’t have brought a bike bag with me. I then took a step away to take off my bike shoes and organize my luggage into checked and carry-on categories. After checking in the bike and a duffle bag, I went to the Business Lounge to get my meal reservation ticket. There was a fair number of people already there, even though I had arrived with plenty of time to deal with the bike. I was mildly surprised that Via Rail currently serves “Continental breakfast” 6:30-8:30 (no reservations), Brunch 9:30-1:30 (first come, first serve) and Supper (reservations for 5, 7, 9).
My dining car had a special livery about Churchill, Manitoba. Not sure why.
The Canadian left on time. I was interested to note that even an hour out of Union Station, we were still in suburbia. The Greater Toronto Area is fairly large. Then again, the Train leaves Union Station heading Westwards, before turning North before then going East for some distance. It then heads North on the Bala subdivision.
At brunch, I was seated with a pair of grandparents from Uruguay with whom I spoke mostly in French and a man from Moose Jaw. When the waiter asked if I would like a mimosa, I answered with an emphatic “Yes, please!” The Uruguayans were traveling with one of their offspring, the spouse and two grandchildren who were seated at the next table.
The man in the roomette across from me would be described on Amtrak as a “foamer”. On Via, the term employed is “DRF”, for Dedicated (or possibly Demented) Rail Fan. He has an engineer’s cap loaded with Via Rail pins, a Via Rail sweatshirt and a radio scanner to listen into what the train crew is saying. He installed himself in his roomette by putting an Ontario license plate number “VIA RAIL” in the window.. Curiously enough, his roomette was the one I had been assigned, until about a month after booking when I phoned Via Rail to ask if I could have a cabin on the North side of the train. I was intrigued by him at first. This wore off when I heard him pontificate in a dome car. His statements had a Munchausian quality to them, containing grains of truth in lake of chaff. I had the misfortune to sit with him at supper where he proved to be a tiresome dinner companion. His exaggerations were both obvious and boring. Thankfully, there was a nice couple from Michigan as well who were much more interesting.
The weather has been absolutely gorgeous. At Capreol, I got out with many of my fellow passengers to stretch my legs and walk the length of the 21 cars outside. I know there are 21 cars as I counted them. The second locomotive (of two) is no 5459 which became that number after it appeared on the $10 bill with its original number 5403.
After supper, I moseyed back to the Park car where I chatted with the artist on board in the bullet lounge. He was from Hamilton. The DRF came by. A young couple from Washington, DC, asked about what to do in Vancouver. The DRF suggested Wreck Beach. I let the cat out of the bag and enlightened the couple as to the fact that it is a nudist beach.
At some point, a man of East Asian descent wearing shorts and flip-flops came in and asked, a shade disoriented sounding, if this was the end of the train? I said: “Yes, unless you jump out the back. But I believe that’s against Via Rail policy!” glancing at a crew member meaningfully. The East Asian left prompting speculation that he had got turned around.
There are signs on doors towards the back of the train saying the Park car is reserved for Prestige passengers only between 6 AM and 4 PM. The signs are in English, French, German and what is probably Chinese. As well, all but the last two rows of the Park car’s dome are reserved for Prestige passengers. Tonight, I boldly sat in one of the forbidden chairs. Unsurprisingly, no one complained as there was only one other passenger up there and he wasn’t Prestige class.
August 5th
The night went by with the usual wakings expected of the first night. These later became a series of disturbing dreams in which I “awoke” from a dream into another dream, sometimes verging into nightmare. I came to in the early morning light of Hornepayne. This meant the train was well behind schedule.
After a continental breakfast, or at least what Via Rail calls a “continental breakfast”, I went a Skyline car dome. As I did so, we left Longlac where upon I spotted a pair of American white pelicans perched on a rock in the “lac” in question. Pelicans are fun birds to watch. They are also easy to identify.
The Canadian has the policy of dealing with time changes by having train time change after supper. This, by the train we are currently 8:48 Central Daylight Savings time. However, the true local time is 9:48 Eastern Daylight Time and will be for another 4 hours or so. The classic sleeping cars have a pair of washrooms at the front end of them. The one of the left (looking forward) is usually marked for men, and the other for women. I have always respected the signage. However, on the car following mine (“Lorne Manor”), the washrooms are marked for both sexes. So I happened to use the right hand one. I was surprised to see it was configured differently, with the washbasin to the side and a large mirror with a shelf and a stool beneath it. My conclusion (which I hope doesn’t sound sexist) was that it was intended (back in the day) to allow ladies to apply makeup in relative comfort.
The kilometres long container trains continue to amaze me. While they are very long, they are relatively light compared to mineral hauling trains. Typically they only have a pair of locomotives hauling them. (I have seen pictures, circa 1970, of freights being hauled through the Rockies by six or more locomotives.) Mind you, this means they are slow to accelerate to the speed limit hence why CN is reluctant to stop them, unless necessary.
Saturday, 3 August 2019
On why my train to Toronto was late
Partly from stress and partly from the hot weather, I was sweating profusely when I walked Leonardo into Central Station and began the process of checking in the bike and my duffle bag. This involved taking the panniers off and because it was me, checking that a few important items had actually been packed. I also took off the lower parts of my convertible trousers and my biking shoes. A woman behind the baggage counter joked there should be music to accompany my stripping down.
When he saw my helmet, the attendant in the business lounge asked me how far I had ridden. He was disappointed to hear that I had only come a few kilometres.
The train left Central Station a little more than twenty minutes late as we had to wait for the Ocean train from Halifax (which was more than an hour late) to get in so a hundred plus passengers could make the connection across the platform along with their luggage. The consist on the Ocean was interesting as it started with stainless steel cars, probably from the CPR’s big batch from Budd. It then became Renaissance cars before, changing again to stainless steel Château sleepers and a Park dome car.
Once everyone was aboard, the train trundled along out through Point-St-Charles and St-Henri. A bit short of Dorval, it stopped to let another Via Train by.
At Dorval, we seemed to stop for an unduly long time. Then the train manager came on the PA to say that Via Rail does not tolerate verbal violence towards its crew or other passengers. As a consequence of this, the train was delayed some passengers were being removed from the train! Three police cars arrived. I didn’t see any of the altercation. (Apparently business class passengers are better behaved! ;-) )
As the train pulled out of the station, now an hour late, I saw two old ladies entering the station pulling rolling suitcases. I speculated that they were the offending parties and about just what had happened. From working at the Library, I know that you can get some pretty rude and obnoxious old folks whose lack of respect for rules of behaviour is frequently compounded by poor listening skills. (I also get some sweethearts who are sometimes almost embarrassingly grateful for what I do for them.)
When he saw my helmet, the attendant in the business lounge asked me how far I had ridden. He was disappointed to hear that I had only come a few kilometres.
The train left Central Station a little more than twenty minutes late as we had to wait for the Ocean train from Halifax (which was more than an hour late) to get in so a hundred plus passengers could make the connection across the platform along with their luggage. The consist on the Ocean was interesting as it started with stainless steel cars, probably from the CPR’s big batch from Budd. It then became Renaissance cars before, changing again to stainless steel Château sleepers and a Park dome car.
Once everyone was aboard, the train trundled along out through Point-St-Charles and St-Henri. A bit short of Dorval, it stopped to let another Via Train by.
At Dorval, we seemed to stop for an unduly long time. Then the train manager came on the PA to say that Via Rail does not tolerate verbal violence towards its crew or other passengers. As a consequence of this, the train was delayed some passengers were being removed from the train! Three police cars arrived. I didn’t see any of the altercation. (Apparently business class passengers are better behaved! ;-) )
As the train pulled out of the station, now an hour late, I saw two old ladies entering the station pulling rolling suitcases. I speculated that they were the offending parties and about just what had happened. From working at the Library, I know that you can get some pretty rude and obnoxious old folks whose lack of respect for rules of behaviour is frequently compounded by poor listening skills. (I also get some sweethearts who are sometimes almost embarrassingly grateful for what I do for them.)
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