Are We There Yet?

It would have been fun to keep up our Canadian city hoping by train all the way to Halifax. But for this trip, our eastern-most stop is Montreal.

I have been here several times over the decades, mostly on short business trips. My one pleasure trip was in the summer of 1975 when a buddy and I drove up from Boston. I was a rich (by student standards) army captain finishing a masters at MIT’s Sloan School. Hence, we used my car. My travel companion was Larry Linden, a Ph.D. student who, I recall, humbled me with his mathematical brilliance. I’m sorry I lost track of him after I graduated.

As an aside, while I may have been a nicely paid officer while a student, when I graduated, a chart came out of the starting salaries of all my fellow Sloan students. It showed a wide range but the lowest reported figure, at the bottom of the bracket, was mine. You’ll never get rich, digging a ditch, you’re in the army now!

Travel by Train

It’s worth, I believe, a few summary notes on travel by train in Canada. The experience must be divided into two.

For the four-day, four-night trip from Vancouver to Toronto, it was a one-time experience. We did not sleep well on the train, one of the two major downsides. Others on the train had slightly better nights of sleep, or claimed so. The other negative is the cost—but only if opting for the highest-end sleeping accommodations. Still, for us, it was worth it. One sees much of Canada in a way that city visits alone miss. The camaraderie on board was excellent.

For the Toronto to Ottawa and the Ottawa to Montreal runs, the trips were day ventures. Our rides were smooth, comfortable and on time. Food was slightly better than airline quality, but only barely. Getting and exiting these trains was so much simpler and pleasurable an affair compared to dealing with airports. I’d recommend such travel to anyone.

For those of you who have been reading my posting, here is the update on my leg problem. Each day it is getting better, although I am still clueless as to what happened. Let’s hope it was some type of one-time anomaly. We really did consider terminating the trip and flying home at one point. I’m glad we didn’t.

We’ve come to rely on Uber for most of our transportation over distances too long (or too hot) to walk. Until Montreal, all our usage was flawless. In Montreal, we had a few minor glitches. To old fogies like me, once quite proud of my map reading skills, pick-up points can be a problem. You exit an unfamiliar train station, for instance, not sure what street is in front you. Uber picked the wrong location, likely because of signal interference near large buildings. Despite our confusion, the driver did find us (for a slight extra fee labeled as waiting time). In a second incidence, I fumbled (apparently) the destination, but caught it in route and corrected it.

Despite these problems, we have been quite happy with using Uber. We never had to wait more than four minutes for an Uber to arrive. If the driver hopped out to help us with the bags, we added a larger tip—all on the phone of course. No cash flows.

Speaking of cash, as I mentioned in another posting, I never had a need for cash. Once, on departing the Montreal hotel, I tipped (with a U.S. bill) the attendant for being especially helpful with the luggage, given my leg problem and the hotel’s entrance steps.

Our hotel, Le Mount Stephen, is worth special mention. The front end was a mansion built in the early 1880’s. It took three years and 3,000 workers to complete. It was built for George Stephen (later Lord Mount Stephen), president of the Bank of Montreal and of the Canadian Pacific Railway. Later the mansion was an exclusive gentleman’s club. Ultimately, it was purchased for conversion to a hotel. The mansion is the front end and is attached to a modern structure behind which contains the rooms for lodging. The hotel manager took us on a tour of the mansion, some pictures of that tour being below.

A unique feature (for us) was the bathroom’s bidet-toilet combination. This is old hat to friends like Brian and Karen, but the first time I was truly tempted to try it out—no bouncing from toilet to a separate bidet being one of the attractions. The verdict? For me, with my spinal fusions making some actions difficult, the bidet worked quite well. For Frances? Not in this lifetime.

Before leaving the bathroom, I’ll mention the shower, larger than our train cabin, with an excellent rain shower, a hand-held shower and a tub on one side large enough to host a threesome. Given we were only a twosome, it went unused.

Montreal

“OK, OK,” you sigh. “Enough with the extraneous stuff; tell us about Montreal.”

We rested up on our arrival at the hotel. I did not want to over-stress the leg. We did go out that first evening and dine Italian. It may have been the best Italian we’ve had since, well, Italy.

Our mandatory first destination for our first full day of sightseeing was the Notre Dame Basilica of Montreal. The apse and altar area of the cathedral are simply stunning.

Ottawa

We had low expectations for our short stay in Ottawa or, more correctly, no expectations beyond viewing Canada’s Parliament House, which we know was being renovated. Make that Parliament Houses plural or, more accurately, Centre Block—and make it a complete rehabilitation, scheduled to be complete in 2031 or 2032. While the lower sections of the complex are behind fences and view-blocking obstacles, the overall view is still one of attractive revival or Victorian Gothic architecture.

I believe we left you about 12:30 a.m. Wednesday morning, trudging toward an unknown hotel in downtown Toronto. Despite having emailed ahead that we would be arriving late and getting a reply with a confirming “no worries”, there was no room at the inn. The alternate hotel for which we were given vouchers ended up being quite nice. The room assigned us was a well-appointed two-room suite. We would have been happy to stay there the duration of our visit to Toronto. Nevertheless, the next morning we walked back to our original hotel at the time suggested by its management, just to find our assigned room still not quite ready. I was a little crabby but otherwise courteous, more or less.

But the hotel staff made good. We were “comped” the first night, assigned an upgraded room for the remaining two, and given coffee and pastry coupons for all three mornings at the local bistro. An added benefit is that our room has a washer/dryer (plus a kitchen) which solved our laundry problem for another week. I’ll ignore mentioning that Frances is struggling to get the dryer to do its job. As I write this, the TVs, cabinet doors and any other vertical structures are sporting damp clothing. Later the dryer behaved and we are again not advertising our approach via our odor.

And how about Toronto? Our hotel is the One King West, well located in the downtown and within walking distance of much we wanted to see. Our first full day, we did a walking tour of Toronto’s historic area. Like Vancouver, Toronto has successfully intermixed its historic structures with modern skyscrapers. Of course, historic in Toronto means one to two hundred years. Previously named York, it’s not an old city. Well that’s not totally true as the original name, a “First Nations” name, was a variation of Toronto. The capital of Upper Canada at the time but also little more than a hamlet, York was captured and burned by American forces during the War of 1812. Some say this was the British motivation for burning Washington D.C.

A first stop on our walking tour was the Anglican Cathedral, St. James. We then spent a fair amount of time wandering through the St. Lawrence Market. Most of the rest of our time we gawked at the skyscrapers, the traditional architecture, interesting fountains and a copious number of sculptures. It’s an attractive city.

We’re in the lounge car, normally the last car in the train. It’s 11pm at night and we’re traveling at some considerable speed—backwards! An engineer with a flashlight (torch, to my British empire friends) sitting at the open back door—make that the front door—leading us by another route into Toronto. At times, he even used a whistle. The core of us, fellow passengers since at least Jasper, are cleaning up the remains of the bar stock. The Oban is long gone. All bets on the time of our ultimate arrival in Toronto are long voided.

 We were already running hours late, but this final delay was caused by heavy rain (we hear five inches) that flooded train tracks in Toronto.

Ultimately, the run from Winnipeg to Toronto took us nearly forty-eight hours. As I mentioned in the previous post, we mostly slept through the Winnipeg stop.

We may not have seen Winnipeg, but the service crews certainly have. There was a complete crew change in Winnipeg. Apparently, crews are divided between those who handle the Winnipeg—Vancouver legs and those who service the Winnipeg—Toronto stretch. They work long hours while on board but if what one attendant related to us applies to all, they have five days on and ten days off. In the case of our informant, she loves the arrangement. She works five days, takes care of the kids for five days while her husband works a shift, and they are both home for five days. She claims the five days on board are the easiest of the three stretches.

The cars we are riding in are originals from the 1920’s, if I understood the explanation correctly. They were most recently refurbished ten years ago. For ten years of service the cars appear to us as being in excellent shape. But the lack of wifi and other electronics perhaps exposes the datedness of the affair. There is a monitor/TV screen in the cabin, but it only offers a selection of USB-connected movies. We haven’t turned the TV on.

The shower is fine, but the water runs but one minute each time a button is pushed. My showers have been three and four button efforts. Our only complaint is the bathroom door. It latches closed but not open. With the rolling of the train car as we move, it invariably slams shut. I know you’re thinking, why not leave it shut? Gee, why didn’t we think of that. We certainly are better off than one of our neighbors, whose bathroom door latched neither open nor closed. Ultimately, they stuffed a towel in the track to muffle the bangs. On the other hand, their cabin isn’t directly over the car’s wheels as ours is. Something we didn’t think about when we made our reservation.

Since waking up the morning after our departure from Winnipeg, the geography has been consistent. This area of Ontario was scraped clean during the last ice age. Soil depth is minimal. All is now lakes, swamps, ferns, shrubs, and, where the soil has finally achieved the necessary depth, forests. It’s part of the great Canadian Shield. There is a light rain falling at the moment. I don’t believe I’ve seen a man-made structure from our window in the last hour. Forgive me, I forgot we are in the land of Trudeau. Make that human-made structures.

I keep hoping to see a bear but no luck so far. Two fellow passengers have been more successful. They’ve no photos to prove this however. We fly by too fast. The bartender showed us one he took on an earlier trip of a mother bear with two cubs. Maybe we’ll be lucky yet. We certainly haven’t spotted any humans in this wilderness.

At one of our middle-of-nowhere stops, we walked from the last car as far forward as we could, through all the classes of service. Only four cars, including the engine, were ahead of us when we got to the one door available for exiting. Not a minute after stepping down, “all aboard” was announced and we retraced our steps. The train then backed up into another siding. Two other freight trains that had been in front of us also backed into other sidings. It seems the track was “broken” somewhere ahead of us. We are no longer behind schedule, we’re way behind schedule.

There is a contingent of Amish, Mennonites or some similar sect on board. Likely they are Mennonites as most of the men are not sporting beards. They were speaking a language we do not understand—Pennsylvania Dutch? Frankly, they were a touch rude in not holding doors for others and in pushing ahead of us on several occasions. In mass they have come to the lounge at our end of the train to hold a religious service. The songs were sung with a quite well-executed three-part harmony. We and the others of our service class have retreated to our cabins for the time being.

We passed a single-double Bailey bridge spanning a forest creek. My Corps of Engineer friends will know what I am talking about. I haven’t seen one in decades.

What happens when there is no internet, no organized entertainment, an unlimited supply of bar stock, and a contingent of Aussies and Kiwis? Way too much consumed booze and a wonderful evening of stories and camaraderie. For what we had thought would be our last evening and while again parked in a siding, waiting for yet another freight train to pass, we entertained each other late into the evening. We consumed more scotch than we had in years. It was a fabulous time. We missed breakfast the next morning.

Over our last day we rolled through the forests, lakes, swamps and rocky outcroppings of backwoods Ontario. Beyond an occasional forest road and, of course, our railroad tracks, there is little evidence of civilization. Eventually, we began passing an occasional lodge or cabin, then a village or two, then the town of Parry Sound. There, on the platform of the station, was Brent Kelman, who waved at us as we flew by. Our train is so long (albeit not nearly as long as the freight trains) that I did not know our train had stopped to let a passenger off at the station. By the time our car passed Brent, we were moving quite smartly.

We had one more surprise on reaching Toronto’s Union Station. Although our hotel was but a few blocks from the station, it was late and we were so tired that we took an Uber to the hotel. We had emailed earlier that our arrival would be late and received a “no worries” reply. Only, when we arrived, we and one other couple from the train were told that the hotel was fully booked (apparently because of the city’s flooding problems). We were given a voucher for another hotel several blocks away. Led by a hotel employee, we trudged, and I do mean trudged, to the new lodging. I think Frances was asleep about twelve seconds after we got into our room.

It’s now the next morning. In a few hours we’ll repack and return to our originally booked hotel—then finally do our best to discover Toronto. It’s our first visit.

Saskatchewan

Saskatoon. Don’t you just love the name? It’s another short stop on the second day of our rail journey from Jasper to Edmonton to Saskatoon to Winnipeg. We’re now in the province of Saskatchewan, no slouch of a name itself. From our window there is no sign of the structures of  civilization beyond a cargo train, but I am looking south and the city of Saskatoon is to the north. It’s too early in the morning to get dressed and leave the cabin to check out the view in that direction. Maybe in a bit.

Saskatoon is our only scheduled stop in the province of Saskatchewan. Regina, the provincial capital, is a two and a half hour drive to the southeast. Both are modest-sized cities of about a quarter million, neither large enough to support an NHL team. There was a time this train route, the “Canadian”, passed through Calgary and Regina, but now the route is farther north.

Except for several periods of the train stopping during the night, always a noisy affair, we slept better last night. We frequently stop at a siding to let a freight train pass. As with Amtrak in the U.S., passenger trains (“VIA Rail Canada”) have the lowest priority of all train types for right-of-way. After all, tracks are owned by CN, the Canadian National freight line. Once government-owned, CN was privatized in 1995 and supports freight trains up to three miles long. As the occasional sidings are mostly about a mile and a half long, it is our passenger train that must sit and wait. Seventy percent of the route is single track, so sitting and waiting is a frequent occurrence, as we are doing now. I don’t know how two three-mile long freight trans pass each other but, obviously, that has been worked out.

By the way, the Canadian rail lines still use miles versus kilometers, officially to keep train travel a unique experience but, in reality, because it’s cheaper not to convert.

Mountains and forests have given way to the great plains and to yellow fields of rapeseed and mustard. In the kitchen, rapeseed oil is now more commonly labeled canola oil, for obvious reasons. Rapeseed oil is also used as an industrial lubricant. We’ve not seen the telltale mounds yet, but Saskatchewan provides much of the world’s potash.

We’re now pulling out of another siding, a freight train having just passed. It was a good time to take a shower, an opportunity that both Frances and I took advantage of.

Top: This is as close to Saskatoon as we got. Bottom left: The red blur is a distant fire that our train stopped for. It must have been a gas fire as it blazed brightly yet was quickly extinguished. Bottom right: We occasionally passed terrain other than farmed fields.

Oops, we’re back in a siding and another freight train is passing by. We’ve been told our train schedule factors in worst case delays just to accommodate such happenings.

So what are we doing with all this unstructured time, besides writing this blog? Meals, naps, books, and two or three extra happy hour opportunities fill much of the time. (There is yet more competition for the Oban 14. We’ve already met two couples who have thanked us for arranging for a bottle to be on board.) Each day at 3:00 p.m. we enjoy a talk by Martin, the prestige class service manager. Be sure to pronounce the ‘t’ in Martin, which we Americans often elide through.

Mostly, though, we have delightful conversations with fellow passengers, particularly at meals. We’ve dined with Canadians, New Zealanders and fellow Texans. If the train is traveling fast and the dining car is full, the noise level is, for me, overwhelming. I have a device which I lay on the table during meals to assist me in hearing. One couple, seeing me place the device, cried out “you have Roger!” Apparently they have a friend who is also hearing impaired and who uses a similar device, which they’ve nicknamed Roger. So Roger it is henceforth.

This is going to take some getting used to. If one thinks the first night on a Canada Rail train is a gentle, soothing lullaby of track rumble and slow rocking, reset those expectations. Think instead of jerks and screeches, shakes and bumps, starts and stops. Or that, at least, is how we absorbed the experience. As I write this just after we departed Jasper, Alberta, Frances is taking a much needed nap. She even had the Murphy bed lowered in the cabin to ensure a good rest. I’m on the observation deck, enjoying the lakes, forests and foothills of this part of Alberta and, of course, writing these notes. The nap can wait.

But let us back up a day to Vancouver. We decided to walk with our luggage from the hotel to the train station. I know; we just spent hundreds of dollars on a hotel room and here we are avoiding an Uber or taxi charge of probably ten dollars. But the route was only a bit over a mile, the weather delightful, and the luggage reasonably light. (We each have a carry-on and a backpack.) I must say that we appreciated the handicap ramps between sidewalks and streets and there was a fortuitous elevator at the only place of changed elevation.

Vancouver

Cool at last. Since leaving Texas, our escape from the summer heat has taken a while to be realized. We flew to Los Angeles then north to Sacramento, then further north to Tumwater, Washington, at each stop visiting our kids and their families. (Jump to Facebook for a quick summary of those excursions.) All the family we visited are well, thank you. While the nights were cool, the days were overly warm—until we arrived in Vancouver. Now, a week and a half after setting out, perfect weather has greeted us.

For the next two weeks we are transiting Canada, starting in Vancouver and ending in Montreal. All this traveling will be by rail, the major jump being a four-day, four-night journey from Vancouver to Toronto. We thought this might be of some interest to those of you follow this blog, either out of curiosity or amusement.

But let’s start in Vancouver, a city we have visited, and enjoyed, several times in the past. Unlike our Alaska Air flight from Sacramento to Seattle, where we first waited an extra two hours in the terminal then three more hours on the airplane while two tires were replaced, our flight from Seattle to Vancouver was a thirty-minute puddle (or Puget Sound) jump, followed, of course, by a fifty minute Uber trip crawling from the airport to our hotel. Not as bad as the hour and a half creep from LAX to Glendale a week earlier, but still.

Our hotel is worth mentioning. It’s the St. Regis, one of the oldest in Vancouver, but hardly out of date. Every room is stripped and refurbished every winter! The rooms are not large but are well appointed and in perfect shape. Wish I could say that about me. It’s also well located, close to everything we intended to visit this trip.

We started our stay by enjoying one of the best meals we can recall, including while in France. Of course this was a French restaurant, the Allouette Bistro, the best rated (by TripAdvisor) in Vancouver. Better yet, we arrived in time (not an accident) to enjoy happy hour prices for both the food and wine. We were happy campers, consuming mussels, escargot, warm Brie, crème brûle and superior wine until sated.

The next day we went to the top of the Vancouver Lookout. We did this our last visit, then viewing nothing but the smoke and haze of forest fires. This time all was clear.

Château La Roche-Guyon

Actually, it was an evening concert in a castle and, on our last full day in France, a visit to a palace. For the former, Scenic set up a private concert for all the guests in the Château de la Roche-Guyon. Built against cliffs with troglodyte caves, the architecture includes building from Medieval times to the last century—but we didn’t get to see much of this. We climbed the hill and the stairs to the castle overlook for wine, then entered a hall used for the concert.

The concert was a unique quartet comprising a harp, a double bass, a clarinet, and something like a xylophone. I wondered what instrument would carry the bulk of the melodies. As it turned all, all of them did at one point or another.  They played a dozen selections ranging from classical and opera to popular. Hearing the tunes to “La Vie en Rose” and “Singing in the Rain” led by the bass fiddle was unique.

A Palace and a Garden – Benedictine and Monet

The day that followed our Normandy excursion was an easier one. We docked at Caudebec-en-Caux and were driven to the town of Fécamp, the home of the Palais Bénédictine, just Benedictine Palace to we tongue-tied. It’s neither an abbey nor where the Benedictine monks first made their “medicinal” liqueur. Rather it is both the factory where Benedictine Liqueur is made today and a palatial extravagance built as a tribute to the former prestigious Fécamp Abbey. The creator was Alexander Le Grand, who reinvented the liqueur in 1863 and built the palace at the end of that century.

We toured the museum-like palace and participated in a tasting. It’s a very sweet liqueur, pleasant to taste but not something we would consume regularly.

Bayeux War Cemetery and Memorial