DISCOVER CANADA
A FEW minutes past 11pm, a Via Rail Canada train pulled into a film-noir-lit station in New Brunswick. Two passengers, insufficiently dressed for the frigid outdoors, hopped off. Eyeing their escape route, they scaled a snowy bank and dropped into a parking lot. Shannon Flood was several strides ahead… I trailed behind, picking my way around the black ice. We had only 15 minutes and counting to complete our escapade. If we failed, the train would depart for Montreal without us. I couldn’t risk a twisted ankle.
Shannon arrived first and placed the order. I joined him at the counter and, in a confessional voice, informed the other customers that this was my first time inside a Tim Hortons, the country’s version of Dunkin’ Donuts.
We grabbed our purchases and high-tailed it back to the tracks. We were settled in our seats, sipping hot cups of Hortons coffee, when the train lurched forward, bound for lands west.
For Canada’s 150th anniversary this year, there are infinite ways to fête the unification of its British colonies. You can visit a national park, historic site or marine-conservation area free. Attend the Canada Day festivities on July 1 in Ottawa, the capital. Binge-watch Ryan Reynolds movies. Or for the ultimate pan-celebration, traverse the country by train.
“You don’t really get the scope and breadth of the country – how much real estate there is from coast to coast” on other modes of transportation, said Daryl Adair, who wrote the Canadian Rail Travel Guide and runs a train-travel agency in Winnipeg, Manitoba. “On the train, you can appreciate how big the country is, from the Atlantic to the Pacific and to the Arctic.”
Via Rail, the nationalised passenger line, offers 19 routes in eight provinces, including a transnational journey from Nova Scotia on the Atlantic to British Columbia on the Pacific.
The trip is epic in terms of scenery and experience but not in time or expense. If you leave Halifax, Nova Scotia, on a Friday afternoon, you will arrive in Montreal the next morning, catch a train to Toronto and then board the Canadian, which pulls into Vancouver the following Wednesday. If you can sleep curled up like a shrimp in a takeout container, the economy-class fare costs about $500 (R6 700). To stretch out like a noodle, you will pay more than twice as much, but chef-prepared meals, non-boozy beverages and snacks are included.
“You missed it,” said the agent behind the counter in Halifax. “It left an hour ago.” Nooooooooooooooooo! “The next bus leaves later today.” Bus? Easy mistake: The bus and train share the same building along the waterfront, where – to add to the transportation cluster – cruise ships also dock. The man directed me to the Via Rail entrance, where I would pick up the Ocean, the first of my three trains.
At check-in, I received a paper bracelet for my meals and selected my dining times. On the boarding platform, I met my cabin attendant, Joanne, who was still spunky after 40 years on the job. She escorted me to my cabin, a snug lair with a bathroom, clever storage and seating that she would transform into a bed in the evening.
While the train was still parked, I roamed the narrow aisles from nose to tail. I visited the economy section, where passengers had arranged their belongings for a public slumber party, the wi-fi lounge and the dining room elegantly set for lunch. At the bar, I scanned the menu of Canadian beers and wine, and at the hot beverage station I poured myself a cup of fancy tea and gingerly climbed the stairs to the second level of the Skyline dome car. Surrounded by windows framing the earth and the sky, I tucked myself in for the nearly 24-hour ride.
Shannon and his father, who I met within the first hour of my adventure, invited me to join them for lunch. John, a retired cop from Ottawa, was on his third Halifax trip in six months, and he knew the route – and the food – well. He ordered two pieces of chocolate-mousse pie and told me that he planned to stay awake for the entire trip. He didn’t want to doze through any of the sights, some of which would appear in the afternoon (Bay of Fundy) and others in the wee hours of the night (Matapedia Valley) or at dawn (Quebec City).
After lunch, he loaned me his copy of Adair’s guidebook, which details many of Via Rail’s itineraries mile by mile. Suddenly, the landscape grew more dynamic and engaging. I excitedly read about Mile 44.4, the town of Rogersville, New Brunswick, which holds a Brussels sprouts festival in August.
I left the scenic car about an hour after our coffee jaunt in Campbellton, New Brunswick, which was really the same hour once I factored in the time change from Atlantic to Eastern time. (Over the course of six days, I would lose four hours.)
As the train neared Central Station, passengers started to disappear, preparing to disembark. I waited until we were in its belly before returning to my cabin to pack up my bags.
The train was all business and leaned more toward the pragmatic than the poetic. We didn’t pull into a town to soak up its natural beauty or culture but to swap out passengers and sometimes crews. I had a few layovers (Montreal and Toronto) and lengthier stops (Winnipeg and Jasper, Alberta) baked into my schedule. I relished walks that lasted longer than the 3 minutes 47.82 seconds it took me to cover the length of the 10-car train.
In Montreal, I spent nearly six hours roaming the city before I had to board the commuter-like train to Toronto. I had planned to navigate the Underground City, a miles-long network of tunnels with shops, restaurants and museums, but I craved fresh air, even if it did pinch my cheeks like Elsa’s fingers. At a boulangerie in the station, I bought a baguette, because when in French Canada.
No offence to Ontario, but boreal forest grows repetitive after a while. So when Martin, a rail employee, announced upcoming attractions in Manitoba, the members of the Scenic Car Social Club shook off our ennui and pressed our faces to the window.
For once, I wasn’t two blinks behind the sights. I had missed the fox standing by the tracks with prey in his mouth. But the train fairy must have felt sorry for me, because I think I saw the Northern Lights through the window of my lower bunk. Either that or an invisible hand was twisting and pulling the clouds like taffy.
On the final stretch to Vancouver, the Canadian raced the Fraser River. Then we dropped out of the competition: A freight train was in our midst, and we had to wait till it passed.
“The bridge is congested, and we will move when we can,” Martin said.
After 12:30pm, Martin pointed out a film studio and informed us that we had “officially crossed into Vancouver”.
Now we could say goodbye. In the station, I felt the ground sway; the train not yet ready to release its grip on me. – The Washington Post
In the station, I felt the ground sway, the train not yet ready to release its grip on me