Once upon a time in Canada - where the heck are we?

But we were away, on this train for 4 days, through several time zones, and beginning to discover and enjoy each other’s company as vast sceneries slipped by. You would expect, with a fairly strict routine of meal times, programmed train stops along the way, that such routines would allow for a good progression of memories of such a long journey, but that is not how I recall it. To begin with, starting out in the morning rather than late at night meant that we were passing what would have been the night time landscape in daylight and visa versa, also station stops were similarly challenged. That was not so bad for us that were not getting on or off, but for those that were, a nightmare of disrupted onward connections, especially if they tied in with pre-arranged hotel bookings. VIA tried to warn some about not organizing such arrangements tied to the published schedule, but just imagine trying deal with not knowing when a pre-booked train would arrive and so whether you would be sleeping on it or off it let alone what meals you would be having where, then mix in all this uncertainty happening very late at night right through to early morning. The following link will take you to an article that gives a decent idea of what some on our train faced and, by the way, note that this article was updated in August two years ago, so gives you a good idea how bad for how long this problem has been going on for. https://vancouversun.com/opinion/opinion-will-the-liberals-save-via-rail To add a further ingredient into this thick mix there are the seemingly ever changing time zones and consequentially shortened days. Again generally ok if you were staying on the train but very confusing if you were getting off in the middle of the night before you got to the boundary of the next time zone. Those of us staying on the train were told to put our clocks back BUT, for those getting off before that geographic time zone line, they had to not put their watches back, then we would sit with each other chatting from different time zones. Are you still with me? But the final game changer were the seemingly interminable and, to us, unpredictable stops in the middle of nowhere or some unscheduled way station, because we were at a passing place and had to wait for the arrival of and passing of a train, nearly always a vast freight train, coming from the other direction. These waits could be, or seem, very protracted, and played havoc with any attempt at timing let alone the published train schedule. Some of the scheduled stops were meant to be long enough to enable passengers to get off into the fresh air and stretch their legs on terra firma, but they were usually cut back in an attempt to reduce the accumulating delays. After all the current schedule is not based on what has been proved to work, but on an estimate on what the usual amount of delays will amount to. So the published schedule is a guesstimate in each and every detail. All that the passengers on the train, or at stations awaiting the train, can do is ask rail staff for a forecast and, just like any weather forecast, only an approximation of what they believe will happen given current knowledge and circumstance, which can and does change with almost predictable unpredictability. The upshot of this was that the scenery we went through, be it spectacular or ordinary, even mundane, became a backdrop to the way we entertained ourselves as this stop start experience unfolded.

The train was equipped with some domed observation cars which meant you sitting in a raised saloon able to look over the carriage roofs ahead and behind you, and with an enhanced view of the passing Canadian landscapes, settlements, towns and cities. Starting from Toronto the first things I noticed of the ‘wild’ Ontario was the vast numbers of large, small and sometimes enormous lakes scattered amongst vast swaths of trees and rocky hummocks. It was the sort of landscape that has long looked magic to me and I longed to get out and walk it. An impossible dream in terms of being on this train, but creating that sort of angst in my reactions. I noticed that many lakes had large areas of water lilies making them look almost country garden manicured and, when we occasionally stopped for the aforementioned reasons, small drifts of dragonflies flew around the train and lakes. This landscape went on and on and on, that is the thing about going across Canada as compared to the UK, the vastness of a place where landscapes are measured in the multiple hours, whole chunks of days, they repeat themselves in a mesmerising and, to British eyes, stunning ways. For me time was not spent in my little cabin, comfortable though it was, but up in the dome or down in the adjacent lounges chatting to Joan, Leland and others, like a couple from Texas and another from Georgia. We band of travellers seemed to share a common sense of fun, laughing, joking, talking seriously, exploring each other’s interests and, of course trying to make light of the chaos this journey was continuing to be, poking fun at the way it was turning out. The crew we had for the first half did their best to play their part in keeping us well looked after and the food was delicious. The crew for the second half seemed less light hearted, more focused on a battle plan for them surviving the rest of the journey. The middle night the driver apparently realised he had the chance to catch up a serious amount of time, and so went for it. The trains are old if well maintained, the track is robust as it needs to be to cope with the loads imposed by the massive freight trains, but that does not mean it is smooth, and this meant it gave rise to an interesting ride, needing us to keep hold of the seat, the bed, the corridor walls, whatever, as it rattled along. He was successful making up 4 hours on the delay. Of course this did mean that where we were at any particular time and how long to the next stop became even more of a loose approximation. We kind of knew where we had been but not where we were. Sadly we then encountered a whole new set of delays and ended up losing the four hours we had gained, plus losing a further two.

The interludes when we were parked up awaiting the inevitable freight train to arrive, let alone pass, led to all sorts of episodes where the inside world tried to move on while the outside one was like a stuck film. As the goods trains passed, and more curiosity about them grew, some took to the brain numbing sport of counting the container wagons as they thumped past. Scores mounted from the 120’s upwards into the 130’s and 140’s with some trying it, as I did a couple of times, finding that the metronomic effect of the sound, vibration and visual impact of the masses passing so close to you made it very difficult to maintain the count without wondering if you had missed one/some. I suppose there was some comfort in knowing these trains proved the economy was thriving, but the frequency of the stops for them dulled the positives. These freight trains are vast, 150 double stacked container wagons, enormous fuel tankers, and all driven by 5 powerful engines, two at the front, one in the middle and two at the back. Sometimes we were double stacked even though there seemed multiple tracks, us parked beside another freight train awaiting another from the other directions. On at least one occasion we had to wait while two of these trains went past, I tried to persuade my fellow inmates that it was just one train going round a loop. On another occasion we crawled forward so slowly for so long that there was not feel of movement by the train, so I tried to persuade them the train was stationary and the scenery was gently being pushed past to give us the illusion of travel. They sensibly would have none of it. There was one occasion when the debates got quite heavy, Leland and Joan discussing healthcare insurance in Canada and the USA, and I noticed a lady sitting down the end of the lounge area looking like she was trying to watch/listen to a video, or read an eBook, on her tablet. The thing was that the expression on her face told me that she was finding our noise aggravating. I have no idea if she did, though she later complimented Joan on her point of view. But the really striking thing about this woman, especially with that apparent frown, was that she looked disturbingly like a slightly younger and irritated Hilary Clinton. She sat with Joan, Leland and I as we had our last supper together, and yes I know another of my silly little remarks but these were unusual circumstances for all of us, that last full day on the train. She did manage to give us all a good laugh when she said she thought Joan and I were wife and husband. We had been told this would be our last chance to order wine with our meal so we did so and raised a glass to each other and the experiences this journey had given us. Mind you it was still slightly disquieting sitting across from Hilary Clinton, despite the fact that she was now smiling and wasn’t her. At this point we still had what was estimated at another 24 hours to go, another night on the train and most of the next day, so it was hardly the end of the journey but had a concluding feel to it.

Once upon a time in Canada - the surprises of travel

So now we get to the core of my trip and what unfolded went from the sublime to the ridiculous. There was to be a confusing/challenging/extraordinary part of my trip, and although that sounds negative in some respects it made the trip a fantastical adventure, and I am certainly glad it unfolded the way it did, if only for all the great people I got to know as a consequences, but it was to be all sorts of stuff. It started as an ordinary last day in Toronto before the 4 day, 4 night train journey from there to Vancouver. As I was due to catch the 10pm train from Toronto to Vancouver, and I needed to check out of my hotel by 11am I felt I had a bit of messy day ahead as I felt I had nowhere to retreat to and freshen up after some more adventurous activity during those intervening hours. The hotel, like most, were happy to store my luggage until I was ready to go to the train station much later in the day, but it did not feel it left me a free hand on those bridging hours. It was also a hot steamy day which, for me, ruled out too much hard walking/exploring out in that hot streets big city world. So I kept to the cooler inside areas, just enjoying being familiar with this city and its feel. In the later afternoon I thought it time to get a nice meal in a familiar restaurant and went to the Joey restaurant I had been to twice before. The dish BBQ salmon on a bed of wild rice with shaved vegetables was too tasty to avoid as was a glass of a Niagara grown and produced Riesling wine. The young women on the reception desk as well as the servers, with those who had seen me before, making a point of saying a friendlily familiar hallo. Travelling alone, and especially eating alone, that sort of reception means a lot especially as they seemed keen to extend the conversations we had had on my two previous visits. This being my third departure on this trip from a city I had got to know a bit, well enough to have a sadness about having to leave it, I was doing my best to live in the moment enjoying the food, drink and conversations as well as the enjoyably busy, people out enjoying themselves and the atmosphere of the place. Finishing off the meal and asking for the bill, Stefan, the one I had spoken to most frequently, told me that before I left one of the managers would like a few words with me and, as I got up and collected my man bag and travel log that I had been writing up, three of them approached me. To my surprise and delight they told me they had really enjoyed meeting me and talking to me and that they wanted to thank me handing me as they did a bottle of the wine I had liked so much, as well as a thank you note. They even apologised for the note being written on a sheet of paper rather than a suitable card. I was almost speechless, somewhat emotional, and did my best to describe how delightful their gesture, as well as the way they had treated me on each of my three visits, was. I walked out of the restaurant in a kind of emotional haze and thanked each one of them as I passed. I had to stand still on the pavement outside for a moment to rebalance myself after such an experience. Getting back to the hotel I sat there for a bit, got my cases and bags out, carefully stowed the now highly prised bottle of wine in one case cushioned by my cloths, and asked the hotel to call a taxi for me.

It was early evening by now and the streets were busy with people and traffic vying for space and the need to get to their destinations. My taxi weaved its way through the grid pattern trying to find the road of least resistance doing well till we got a city block away from the station. Crawling closer we saw the problem, the dual carriageway under the rail lines and adjacent to the station was closed by the police. We gradually edged forwards and turned to the right onto another dual carriageway that was solid traffic in both directions. It must have taken 15 minutes to edge forward 50 feet before the driver asked me if I minded if he drove me over a traffic island and set me down on a pavement adjacent to the station building. I said I did not, he did the manoeuvre having to beg for space from other drivers, set me down with my cases and bags, I paid and thanked him for his endeavours, and I was able to wheel and carry my stuff into a nearby entrance. In terms of explaining why it sounds like I had too much luggage to handle I ought to point out that luggage restrictions on trains in Canada, as in the USA and Australia especially on transcontinental trains, applied on each of the trains I used, just as much as they do planes. Also I was to be on this train for four nights and hence needed four changes of cloths plus all the other stuff that you would need for a four night stay anywhere. My big case would have to be checked in so what I needed would have to be contained in a carry on case and two smaller ‘personal’ bags, the train companies restrictions. I had no problem with that, it just needed a bit of careful planning and attention to what I really did and did not need. Never the less I looked forward to checking in so being free of the big case, sitting down in a café for a nice cup of cappuccino and maybe a treat of a chocolate brownie. 

I got to the station at 8pm, the recommended check-in time was given as one hour before departure time which was 10pm, so I was early but felt good that I was early and would have time for a relax before starting the next part of this adventure. Wheeling my stuff up to the information desk, and doesn’t having four wheels on you case make that whole trundling of luggage so much more manageable, I feeling good and asked where I needed to go to check in my luggage. The guy on the desk just smiled an enigmatic and clearly meaningful smile and told me to go and see a lady at a desk over the way as I would not be catching the train tonight as it was running 10 hours late and would be leaving next morning. It apparently going to leave at 9am the following morning which was 11 hours late but what’s one hour in ten or eleven, who’s quibbling. Luggage and I trundled over to the said lady and she repeated the shock news about the delay and, just I was framing up to “what the hell do I do now” she said that we would all be put up in a hotel overnight, making out a form and handing it, and an explanation sheet about times for tomorrow, to me, directing me to go over to the business lounge to await transport to the hotel. A train load of people in a hotel, maybe hotels, I wondered what that will be like. I had kept all my luggage as I presumed I would need to do a bit of repacking to take account of the changed circumstances, thinking initially it would involve an extra night. Halfway to the lounge I and another were kidnapped by another VIA employee with the simple words, “do you want to go to the hotel now?” I and a couple of others were then rushed outside, along the pavement I had so recently arrived at, and towards a minibus to stand in line while our luggage was taken from us and stowed in the space at the back of the vehicle. Then a halt was called, spaces on the mini bus checked, no more found, and the lady and I told to go back to the lounge to await its return, we were assured, of a three quarter of an hour round trip. The lady in front of me, who said she was from the area, and knew Toronto well, said that given the road that would have to be travelled and the distance away the hotel was, an out of town location, she reckoned the minibus would take an hour to get there and an hour back. Back in the station lounge as we all got to digest our situation, we chatted and quickly slid into a railways version of gallows humour. The lady’s name turned out to be Joan, and us with some of the others sitting around near us, soon started bonding and helping each other in our shock and confusion. Sitting around in our area were a couple from Scotland and an American, every adventure should have at least one, this one named Leland, we were to learn. Another VIA passenger services person had come round earlier with food and drink vouchers for those of us who had just missed the minibus, and shocked us even further when he glibly announced that this sort of delay happens nearly all the time, has been going on like this for a couple of years and that the worst delay so far, was 36 hours. My immediate reaction, apart from astonishment and a realization that UK delays are pathetic by comparison, was that if a 10 hour or so was ‘standard’ then why not just send the trains out ten hours later and they would be on time. But of course that is way too simplistic because, as we were to learn later, the problems that lead to the delays are multi, complex and currently unsolvable. The vouchers were only enough for a snack and drink, which was ok, the only trouble was it was getting late at night and only a smoothie bar was still open, but hey, a fruit blast is just the thing to keep flagging spirits up. The minibus returned, we got to this very nice out of town hotel, I was allocated a room with a king sized bed in which, I was assured, I would sleep like a baby. I got into it at around 11:30 and had been told that the minibus would be there to pick us up to take us back to the station at 6:45am. So a short sleep, rushed sort of the cloths in the luggage, even more rushed breakfast and back we went, the train leaving I believe at the said 9am. In truth all the memories from the first shock of the delay to being on the train, is a bit of blur with spiky bits of recollection sticking out.

Once upon a time in Canada - in the thick of it in Toronto

That really quirky café/restaurant, off the hotel lobby, surprised me the following morning by serving up a good selection of breakfast options though I am never going to accept that Orange Pico Tea is any substitute for English Breakfast Tea. An early foray was down to the lakeside and walking along beneath the trees lining and shading it I came across a warning sign that surprised me. It warned about a particular bird that is likely to attack you showing a picture of one which, I subsequently found out, is a Red-Winged Blackbird. Then, just as I was taking a picture of this curious sign, a jogger went past and I witnessed one of these birds swoop down from a tree over him and take a swipe with its beak at his head as it flew over him. It brought back to mind an incident I had partly noticed in Montreal where such a bird gave a small group a hard time in a park there. Being long involved in the design and construction of big multi-functional shopping centres I was keen to get into the Eaton Centre, a very iconic such place long vaunted as the ideally dramatic enclosed shopping destination. Some might argue that the last such big project I worked on, St David’s 2 Cardiff, took its inspiration from Eaton Centre. Which does not explain why it took me a couple of days to work out how to get into it, or that, apart from the name on some facades, where it exactly was in the dense massing of very high rise buildings. But I did find the ways in and out eventually, almost by accident, and enjoyed exploring this iconic development. At the south end of Eaton Centre is another name of significance, this time one that lives long in the history of Canada, The Hudson Bay Company, now a department store company, so not exactly as it was in times long gone by, fur trading etc, but still a name with magic in its sound.

As you will not be surprised to hear I have a particular interest in the buildings I come across, the Elton Centre clearly being one but also on anything particularly unusual and part of the University there is certainly unusual, see the attached picture.

That was found whilst making my way back towards my hotel with just a general direction to head in. Another bonus from that walk was stumbling across the modern art museum, the Ontario Art Gallery, another interesting building in its own right but a lucky find as I found that the next day after 5pm there would not only be free entry but a free and full preview of recent Inuit art, which I greatly enjoyed. A lucky break that as the exhibition of the Inuit art was not going to be open to the public until the day after I had left Toronto. Another city, another observation tower, this time the famous CN Tower. I went up to the main observation decks and could have gone to an even substantially higher deck, but decided not too as I still felt I had left my stomach on the ground below. The decks were really crowded, especially as it was a beautifully clear bright sunny day. In offering to take a picture of one family with a spectacular backdrop behind them I fell into another interesting conversation. They were over from Malta for a holiday and knew Oxford well as one of their daughters was at Uni there. They were somewhat scandalized that I had not been to Malta and did their best to encourage me to go, telling me it was an easy place to explore and enjoy as it was so small.

Then there was the BIG experience I just had to do whilst there, and that was to go to Niagara Falls. I had intended to do it independently by train or coach but decided to book a day tour in which getting on a boat at the Falls to get really close to them, was the main but not only focus. Hence with a coachload of others gathered from a wide variety of hotels, we set off on what was meant to be my last full day in Toronto. Being on such a tour coach does mean you get a driver/guide/minder who usually does their best to inform and entertain you. On the way out of downtown Toronto he told us a story about one of the big, prestigious, flashy buildings there, the headquarters of one of the biggest banks in Canada. Just to be different they had their new headquarters built just outside of the finance district and to make it even more special/flashy they accepted the recommendation of their architects to have gold dust incorporated in the glass panels that completely clads the big tower block. They accepted the proposal having been told it would cut down on solar glare and heat gain as well assist in insulating the building. Being a bank they were the ones who bought the gold to be used. It turned out they purchased substantially more than was required and used and, subsequent to the completion of the building, sold off their surplus gold. In the meantime the gold price had rocketed so, when that surplus was sold, they made a lot of money on the deal, so much that it even covered the cost of the gold used in the glass panels plus some. There was a lot of other ‘stuff’ told us on the trip nearly all of which has dropped so far into my memories that I can’t recall it without a technical upgrade. One aspect I do recall without the upgrade was tuition on how to sound like a true resident of Toronto by the way we say Toronto. It was said to be Trono, then more slangy as Trona, but then, on the train to Vancouver and talking to a true past resident of Toronto, Joan, she encouraged me to say it as it was intended, Toronto.

Getting to the visitor servicing ‘town’, that is the Canadian area on the north side of the falls, we were marched, processed, herded, and streamed down to the pontoons against which the boats that are to take you up to the falls are waiting for you. Along the way you are given one size does not fit all red plastic poncho which I got lost in for a while though I felt I had a better time of it than the rather rotund man near me who almost got defeated by his until his wife and two kids struggled him into it. I ended up next to them on the boat and we chatted about the fun of being at the Falls, getting soaked on your lower arms and legs where the cap does not reach, trying to take pictures between dousings and just chattering with others about the fun of it. That family, mum, dad and two young boys, mum and dad originally from Columbia but many years of becoming US citizens living and working in Los Angeles, now doing a “what shall we do tomorrow” tour around the northern States and into Canada. I hope they had no problem getting back into the States after all the issues there have been recently. I loved those brief interludes of chance meetings with people from so many different backgrounds. While I contemplated that and the so long awaited visit to the Falls, I sat in the sun eating a chicken burger whilst gently steaming as I dried off. After that back on the coach to get to Niagara-on-the-Lake, think quaint and well preserved old small town, where there is a statue to George Bernard Shaw who lived there for a while and the small theatre there had, when I was there, Stephen Fry appearing in a play. https://www.niagaraonthelake.com/ A joyous day and so lucky with the beautifully fine sunny day as, the day before and while I was taking a late afternoon rest in my hotel room before seeking out another enjoyable and tasty evening meal, I was roused by a deluge of a rain storm, where all the big tower blocks across the road from my room window, disappeared behind the dense curtain of very heavy rain.