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.