The Serial: Far From the Rowan Tree Day 8

There was a wind blowing straight from the Arctic. It was so searingly cold we soon scuttled back to the warm cocoon of the train

He said it was the third man in an hour that had a try at her – not that they ever make any headway, although some were really persistent. “I think about every man on the train has been to speak with her and you can see they’re all wasting their time,” he added. Sometimes she would disappear into the ladies’ washroom.

There I occasionally found her, sitting by the sink, crying outright and dabbing her eyes with tissues. We stopped at quite a few stations on the way. At each, passengers left and new ones boarded, especially at the bigger places.

On our last night aboard the train, just as it was growing dark, a family got on from a small wayside station in the middle of nowhere.

Ronald and I looked at one another. A spontaneous shiver of fear ran down our spines. They looked poor – very poor indeed. Not only were they badly clad, they also looked undernourished. The children’s faces were pinched and grey.

So the Canadian West wasn’t all golden wheat and guineas after all! We thought it wisest to say nothing.

Little to see A source of interest for us during that long journey was looking out of the window, getting to know a little of the topography of our new homeland but long stretches of time would go past when there was very little new to see.

The same scenery would go on and on without apparent change, day after day.

The morning after we boarded the train we woke to grey skies, snow and land covered with small fir trees.

The following morning we woke to grey skies, snow and small fir trees! lt was all very monotonous and rather depressing. This was the Great Canadian Shield – a wasteland.

There were no villages to speak of and hardly a house. Quite often there were lakes and rivers – all frozen over.

“It’s beautiful in summer,” a fellow traveller told us but Ronald and I privately thought that even in summer, with all the lakes and rivers shining in the sun, there could be just too much of it. We couldn’t imagine people coming here. There were only one or two summer cabins to be seen, fashioned out of logs. At this time of year they looked very bleak and deserted.

Some of the names painted above the rough-hewn doors appealed to me, like Shoo Fly and Lucky Seven but didn’t know how prophetic they were to become.

At this time of year, near the railroad track, there was no sign of wildlife. In two days, three black crows were the only birds we spotted. We saw no wild animals at all.

There was, however, life at the scattered stations that we passed and sometimes stopped at.

Highlight Our train, this Prairie Schooner, this ship crossing an almost empty sea of land, was obviously one of the highlights of the day, especially in the lonelier places.

People came to watch it – native Americans in parkas and beads, cow-hands on horseback, all muffled up to the eyes to keep out the frost.

They would come dangerously near to the steel tracks (there was no platform or fencing) and on their sturdy horses, race the train for a short while until it gathered speed.

For the first time it began to dawn on me what loneliness meant. Were we also going to this sort of life? I quickly put such thoughts aside. One morning we woke to the Prairies proper. Perhaps it was because the change was so sudden for us that the Prairie land was far more eye-catching and interesting than we had expected.

The sky was clear unhazed blue and the sun blazed on an endless white baking-board flatness where every so often, there was a farm or village to break the monotony of the landscape.

We didn’t leave the confines of the train on our journey into the Westland until we came to Winnipeg.

We were told the train would stop there for a few hours and we could disembark if we wished.

When we arrived, we wrapped the boys up as warmly as we could and ventured out to have a look at the town. We didn’t stay long. There was a wind blowing straight from the Arctic. It was so searingly cold that we soon scuttled back to the warm cocoon of the train.

Never in our lives had we felt anything like the sting of that wind! We understood now how easy it would be to get frostbite if we were out for long.

At Saskatoon we also left the train for a short while. It was late in the evening and the boys were fast asleep. We wrapped up well and left Linda in charge. It was very cold but there was no wind, which made it bearable.

We liked what we saw of Saskatoon. It looked new and clean, each house was of a different design and colour and bright lights were everywhere.

Edmonton On the morning of the day we were due to leave the train, we were wakened at half past five. We arrived in Edmonton at 6.30am.

All was hustle and bustle. A lot of people were disembarking at this capital city of Alberta.

Ronald and I were rather surprised to see Hank and Linda up to bid us farewell but a far greater shock awaited us when Hank said: “Now, about little Ronnie.

“We’ll get our lawyer to send the adoption papers for you to sign as soon as you send us your address and then we can arrange things further.” “Adoption papers!” Ronald turned to me in alarm. “What on Earth is he talking about?” Linda looked at me tearfully. “But you said ... And then it came back to me in a flash the remark I had made earlier in the train.

I had been joking of course but she hadn’t taken it as a joke.

It hadn’t remotely crossed my mind that she would take me seriously.

“Oh I’m sorry Linda.” There were tears in my eyes also. “I remember what I said to you but was joking. “Surely you knew I was joking!” “Joking!” said Linda. “I do not understand.” Tearfully, I explained to Ronald and Hank what had happened. I was in a state of shock. I just couldn’t believe that things could happen so casually. (More tomorrow.)