This is a link to show pictures from my trip.
http://steve4031.smugmug.com/gallery/19450.../7402357/Medium
July 20
The Canadian departs Toronto at 9 a.m. Thus, I had a wake up call for 6:45 a.m. After a shower and quick packing session, down to the restaurant for one last breakfast in Toronto. Again, the service in the restaurant was efficient, and the food delicious. After breakfast, I returned to my room, made a few quick phone calls to friends and family, and then did a video checkout on the TV. Even though it is possible to walk to walk to Union Station, I opted for a cab. 5 minutes later, I was walking through the concourse of Union station for one last time. I made a quick stop to by triple A batteries for my Bose noise canceling headphones, and then headed for the gate. The sleeping car passengers were being boarded, and thus I did not even have to wait. My car, (forgot the car number) was positioned at the top of the stairs. I had roomette number 3, and the car name was Franklin Manner. Again, I marveled at the perfect size of a roomette. My suitcase, which was fairly big, fit neatly into the overhead rack. My small bag with reading material, music, and scanner took up residence on the toilet, or fit easily under the seat when I used the toilet as a foot rest.(It has a padded cover, so this is not as awful as it sounds.
The attendant, Brenda, was a cheerful lady who enjoyed providing customer service. She explained dining arrangements and the location of the closest dome car. Of course, I could go back to the Park car, which was 6 or 7 cars to the rear. There were several skyline dome cars spread evenly through out the train, and at least two diners, if not three. I walked back to the nearest dome car, and grabbed a seat. As we were waiting for the highball from Toronto, Brenda came back and informed me that I would be eating in a different dining car from the one that she had originally assigned me to. Each dining car serves a set of sleeping cars, thus ensuring that everyone on the train eats in a timely manner. I was assigned to the early seating for lunch and dinner.
The Canadian departed Toronto on time, and made its way through the northern suburbs of Toronto. I enjoyed the delights of riding in the dome car. I watched the signals change from green to red as the engine passed into a new block. I savored the moments when the 18 car train negotiated curves along the shores of Ontario lakes. And I surveyed the 360 degree panorama of ever changing vistas.
After an hour or so in the dome, I returned to my room for a nap. When I lowered the bed, I noticed that the linens now included a comforter rather than the traditional Pullman blankets. The linens and pillow felt new, not worn, and provided for a sound power nap before lunch.
I made my way to the diner for lunch, and noted that the white table cloths still were in use, and that plates and silver would be used. The menu was definitely modern. I recall a venison burger, something with lentil beans, and one or two other strange combinations that would be served a typical yuppie restaurant in Chicago. I opted for the grilled cheese of the Children’s menu.
My table companions were a gentle man from the Netherlands, and a 20 year old making his first trip by train. Both were going to Vancouver. Thus ensued the strangest conversation I have ever had in a railroad dining car. The man from Europe provided the usual dining car topics of past trips and questions about this trip. The younger man from Toronto explained that he was from one of the toughest neighborhoods in Toronto. When he found out that I was from Chicago, and that I taught in the inner city, he started asking me about the gangs. So . . . he flashed gang signs of all of the gangs in his neighborhood, and asked if I had seen these in Chicago. No . . . I had not. In the back of my mind, I thought that if he came through Chicago, he should stay in Union Station for his own safety. Throughout the conversation, he was polite, and he expressed excitement about his first train trip. So I provided pointers that would help him enjoy his trip. He reminded me of some of my students, so I really was not too upset with his discussion of gangs. By the way, he was white, and spoke with a Canadian accent, which added to the surreal nature of this conversation.
After lunch, I walked through the entire train to explore. I made notes in my PC phone, but the phone died an untimely death later on in my trip, losing all of my notes. I recall that after the engines, there were one or two baggage cars, two coaches, a skyline car for coach passengers, and then a combination of sleeping cars, dining cars, and skyline dome cars with the Park car on the end. The total number of cars was 18, and the lead engine was painted in “Spiderman colors” to promote Spiderman 2. The Canadian is definitely a fun train to walk through. Each car is named and has a sign explaining the history behind the name.
I ended up in the Park Car to finish the afternoon with a ride in the dome car. At Capreol, Ontario the Canadian stops for 30 minutes for servicing. I got off and walked around to get fresh air. One lady was looking for a place to buy a paperback book. She did not like the one she had . . . and was ready to go into town. Since there really was no town, I suggested that she try one of my Clancy novels. I told her the next Canadian would not pass through until the day after tomorrow. Her response was . . . “So?” I didn’t say anything, but thought “damn, miss the train if you want, it isn’t my problem”. When I returned from dinner, my Clancy was gone, and a thank you note had been written on a post-it and attached to the toilet cover. I knew that she had not missed the train.
Dinner was less yuppiefied. I had delicious roast beef with mashed potatoes. The service was perfect. After dinner, I went to the skyline car to play bingo. Each skyline car serves as a social center for the neighboring sleepers. The tone tends to be set by the attendant working in that car. They lady working in this car was pregnant, and somewhat tired. When we played bingo, she failed to adequately shuffle the cards between games. When the same two people won the first 3 games, some grumbling occurred. One 12 year old heavy set boy stated clearly, “this is BS” to the embarrassment of his mother who elbowed him. The attendant, barked, “Who swore?” as her eyes scanned the passengers in the dome. I wondered if I was in school or in First Class. I did not win anything, but two older ladies won the grand price of a bottle of Champaign. They had been grumbling about the attendant’s half hearted effort each time she went downstairs to wait on passengers who were buying drinks. I was glad that they won, and suggested that the party would be in their room. They laughed and giggled on their way out.
I went to bed and had an enjoyable night’s sleep. One of the best features of the Canadian is the shower in each sleeper. In the morning, you wake up, shower, and go to breakfast. I had pancakes, bacon, and oatmeal with a cup of coffee. A perfect breakfast.
Day 2 on the Canadian is a repeat of Day 1 with trees, lakes, and a long stop in a small town. I really did not monitor the train’s progress. Rather, I just savored being away from it all. No cell phone signal, no reminders of work, no reminders of real, everyday life. Just a state of being on the train. My MP3 player enhanced the experience. Lunch was delicious, and the afternoon passed pleasantly.
We arrived into Winnipeg on time. I got off the train and entered the station. After snaking on popcorn from the snack bar, I returned a call from a message on my cell phone. Then I called and caught up with work place gossip. UHhh, reality. Soon, the boarding call was made, and I was back into train land.
The onboard service crew changes in Winnipeg. In my case, it was a change for the worst. I was interested in the second seating for dinner, and I assumed that since I had had first seating for the first part of the trip, it would be easy to change. The lady who had borrowed my Clancy had similar feelings. I advised the porter that we both were interested in the 2nd seating for dinner. Usually, the crew members on the Canadian handle these requests with skill and flair that is uncommon on Amtrak. I put on my headphones, and cranked up the volume as I listed to “Ballbreaker” from AC/DC. About 6 songs later, I began to have a funny feeling. Of course, I had not heard the first call for dinner, but I was assuming that the attendant would return and advise me if the second seating was not possible. Wrong! I walked up to my assigned diner, and saw that dinner was well in progress. The Maitre D looked at me kind of funny when I explained my desire for the 2nd seating of dinner. He explained that the company’s policy was for passengers to receive seating assignments for lunch and dinner based on the time they ate breakfast. Thus, I should have gone to the first seating. He said that he would try to work me into the 2nd seating, but there would be no promises. Thus, I might have to wait until the 3rd seating or eat in my room. The Maitre D was trying to be helpful, but I was really annoyed with the sleeping car attendant. He should have known the policy, and advised me to go to the first seating.
I located the Onboard Service Chief and explained my irritation. He focused on explaining policy, and I focused on the lax behavior of the sleeping car attendant. We did this dance for about 3 rounds before I got him to understand my complaint. Once I ate, the dinner was excellent, and the service was excellent too.
On the first night out of Toronto I had been given bottled water. No water tonight. I made a mental note to stiff this stiff when we arrived into Vancouver.
Day 3, I woke up early again. The Canadian was keeping time, and from earlier trips on the Canadian I knew to look for a long bridge crossing a river that is usually shrouded in fog. Again, I was lucky and enjoyed this view before breakfast.
After the stop in Edmonton where the station is now by the airport, we continued west. At lunch, I ordered pizza for the second time, avoiding the weird yuppie combinations on the adult menu. I was dining again with the young man from Toronto. He decided to experiment. When the meals arrived, he looked longingly at my Pizza. “Damn . . . I should have order pizza. This is nasty!” He was too embarrassed to send it back. The next moments proved why the Canadian is one of the all time great trains. The waitress observed my tablemate’s lack of enthusiasm for his meal, and asked if he would like pizza instead. “Is that OK?’ he asked. “Sure” she said. The waitress had not heard him complain; she had sensed his displeasure and had taken the initiative to resolve his displeasure. This was definitely first class service. When his pizza came, he inhaled it, and thanked the waitress repeatedly. I advised him that we would soon be entering the Rocky Mountains, and that he should head to the Park car with his Camera. We agreed to meet in the Park car in 30 minutes.
The Canadian’s entrance into Jasper is one of the most dramatic train rides in the world. The young man from Toronto had never seen the Rockies, and he literally ricocheted from one part of the dome to the other to get pictures. The other passengers enjoyed his excitement, and pretended not to hear some of his less appropriate exclamations of excitement. I was glad that he was enjoying the scenery, and I hoped that I might be creating another rail fan. I hoped that he would see that there was more to life than gangs.
We arrived into Jasper on time, and thus had about 90 minutes to walk around the town. I saved my digital pictures to a CD rom at a small store, and found a place to buy a snack. The mountains surround Jasper, and provide a backdrop for enjoying the fresh air. I checked Email, and made phone calls before getting back on the train.
As the train pulled out of Jasper, the porter made his first appearance since Winnipeg. I had forgotten what he looked like. He knocked on my door, and when I opened he greeted me enthusiastically. I assumed that he must have recognized me from another trip. So I said, “Were you on here when I traveled in the winter, or in the summer.” He looked at m like I was crazy. “No, I’ve been your attendant since Winnipeg.” I said, oh . . . well I haven’t SEEN you since Winnipeg so I forgot what you looked like.” He muttered that my door had been shut a lot. I reminded him that he owed me two bottles of water. Later that night, I got 1. This guy was a real loser.
The remainder of the day consisted of fabulous mountain vistas. I spent time in the dome car, and enjoyed the views from the dining car. The blackened fish was way too spicy, and thus my last meal on the Canadian was anti-climatic. I wished that they had a simple red meet dish option for each evening. Or just repeat the roast beef.
I went to bed at about 9:30, and it was still light out. During the night, I awoke as the train negotiated Fraser Canyon. I could see the headlight of the Canadian as it twisted through the Canyon. On other side, I saw a freight train on the CP line. I drifted back to sleep. Early in the morning, I got up and showered and shaved, and then napped until breakfast. The train had filled up and Jasper and I did not want to wait in line to shower.
The last breakfast on the Canadian was a continental one, but it was good. I had cereal and toast, plus something else. But I felt filled when I left the dining car.
We were on time into Vancouver. When I got off, I discovered that Vancouver was in the midst of a heat wave. Later, I discovered that the temperature was close to 100 degrees.
I found a cab driver who knew of a place where I could drop off my laundry to have it done and so I could pick it up later in the day before continuing on to Seattle on the Talgo train. After taking care of the Laundry, I decided I wanted a second breakfast, so I walked over to the Westin hotel that was nearby. This time, it was pancakes and bacon as I read the paper. I determined that the Bourne Supremacy was playing a several theatres in downtown Vancouver. Since I had toured Vancouver previously, I opted for the movie. After the movie, I hailed a cab driver who was on the last 20 minutes of his shift. We had a madcap ride to the laundry mat and back to the station so that he could put gas in his cab and not be fined for returning late. It was fun, and I left a big tip.
http://steve4031.smugmug.com/gallery/19450.../7402357/Medium
July 20
The Canadian departs Toronto at 9 a.m. Thus, I had a wake up call for 6:45 a.m. After a shower and quick packing session, down to the restaurant for one last breakfast in Toronto. Again, the service in the restaurant was efficient, and the food delicious. After breakfast, I returned to my room, made a few quick phone calls to friends and family, and then did a video checkout on the TV. Even though it is possible to walk to walk to Union Station, I opted for a cab. 5 minutes later, I was walking through the concourse of Union station for one last time. I made a quick stop to by triple A batteries for my Bose noise canceling headphones, and then headed for the gate. The sleeping car passengers were being boarded, and thus I did not even have to wait. My car, (forgot the car number) was positioned at the top of the stairs. I had roomette number 3, and the car name was Franklin Manner. Again, I marveled at the perfect size of a roomette. My suitcase, which was fairly big, fit neatly into the overhead rack. My small bag with reading material, music, and scanner took up residence on the toilet, or fit easily under the seat when I used the toilet as a foot rest.(It has a padded cover, so this is not as awful as it sounds.
The attendant, Brenda, was a cheerful lady who enjoyed providing customer service. She explained dining arrangements and the location of the closest dome car. Of course, I could go back to the Park car, which was 6 or 7 cars to the rear. There were several skyline dome cars spread evenly through out the train, and at least two diners, if not three. I walked back to the nearest dome car, and grabbed a seat. As we were waiting for the highball from Toronto, Brenda came back and informed me that I would be eating in a different dining car from the one that she had originally assigned me to. Each dining car serves a set of sleeping cars, thus ensuring that everyone on the train eats in a timely manner. I was assigned to the early seating for lunch and dinner.
The Canadian departed Toronto on time, and made its way through the northern suburbs of Toronto. I enjoyed the delights of riding in the dome car. I watched the signals change from green to red as the engine passed into a new block. I savored the moments when the 18 car train negotiated curves along the shores of Ontario lakes. And I surveyed the 360 degree panorama of ever changing vistas.
After an hour or so in the dome, I returned to my room for a nap. When I lowered the bed, I noticed that the linens now included a comforter rather than the traditional Pullman blankets. The linens and pillow felt new, not worn, and provided for a sound power nap before lunch.
I made my way to the diner for lunch, and noted that the white table cloths still were in use, and that plates and silver would be used. The menu was definitely modern. I recall a venison burger, something with lentil beans, and one or two other strange combinations that would be served a typical yuppie restaurant in Chicago. I opted for the grilled cheese of the Children’s menu.
My table companions were a gentle man from the Netherlands, and a 20 year old making his first trip by train. Both were going to Vancouver. Thus ensued the strangest conversation I have ever had in a railroad dining car. The man from Europe provided the usual dining car topics of past trips and questions about this trip. The younger man from Toronto explained that he was from one of the toughest neighborhoods in Toronto. When he found out that I was from Chicago, and that I taught in the inner city, he started asking me about the gangs. So . . . he flashed gang signs of all of the gangs in his neighborhood, and asked if I had seen these in Chicago. No . . . I had not. In the back of my mind, I thought that if he came through Chicago, he should stay in Union Station for his own safety. Throughout the conversation, he was polite, and he expressed excitement about his first train trip. So I provided pointers that would help him enjoy his trip. He reminded me of some of my students, so I really was not too upset with his discussion of gangs. By the way, he was white, and spoke with a Canadian accent, which added to the surreal nature of this conversation.
After lunch, I walked through the entire train to explore. I made notes in my PC phone, but the phone died an untimely death later on in my trip, losing all of my notes. I recall that after the engines, there were one or two baggage cars, two coaches, a skyline car for coach passengers, and then a combination of sleeping cars, dining cars, and skyline dome cars with the Park car on the end. The total number of cars was 18, and the lead engine was painted in “Spiderman colors” to promote Spiderman 2. The Canadian is definitely a fun train to walk through. Each car is named and has a sign explaining the history behind the name.
I ended up in the Park Car to finish the afternoon with a ride in the dome car. At Capreol, Ontario the Canadian stops for 30 minutes for servicing. I got off and walked around to get fresh air. One lady was looking for a place to buy a paperback book. She did not like the one she had . . . and was ready to go into town. Since there really was no town, I suggested that she try one of my Clancy novels. I told her the next Canadian would not pass through until the day after tomorrow. Her response was . . . “So?” I didn’t say anything, but thought “damn, miss the train if you want, it isn’t my problem”. When I returned from dinner, my Clancy was gone, and a thank you note had been written on a post-it and attached to the toilet cover. I knew that she had not missed the train.
Dinner was less yuppiefied. I had delicious roast beef with mashed potatoes. The service was perfect. After dinner, I went to the skyline car to play bingo. Each skyline car serves as a social center for the neighboring sleepers. The tone tends to be set by the attendant working in that car. They lady working in this car was pregnant, and somewhat tired. When we played bingo, she failed to adequately shuffle the cards between games. When the same two people won the first 3 games, some grumbling occurred. One 12 year old heavy set boy stated clearly, “this is BS” to the embarrassment of his mother who elbowed him. The attendant, barked, “Who swore?” as her eyes scanned the passengers in the dome. I wondered if I was in school or in First Class. I did not win anything, but two older ladies won the grand price of a bottle of Champaign. They had been grumbling about the attendant’s half hearted effort each time she went downstairs to wait on passengers who were buying drinks. I was glad that they won, and suggested that the party would be in their room. They laughed and giggled on their way out.
I went to bed and had an enjoyable night’s sleep. One of the best features of the Canadian is the shower in each sleeper. In the morning, you wake up, shower, and go to breakfast. I had pancakes, bacon, and oatmeal with a cup of coffee. A perfect breakfast.
Day 2 on the Canadian is a repeat of Day 1 with trees, lakes, and a long stop in a small town. I really did not monitor the train’s progress. Rather, I just savored being away from it all. No cell phone signal, no reminders of work, no reminders of real, everyday life. Just a state of being on the train. My MP3 player enhanced the experience. Lunch was delicious, and the afternoon passed pleasantly.
We arrived into Winnipeg on time. I got off the train and entered the station. After snaking on popcorn from the snack bar, I returned a call from a message on my cell phone. Then I called and caught up with work place gossip. UHhh, reality. Soon, the boarding call was made, and I was back into train land.
The onboard service crew changes in Winnipeg. In my case, it was a change for the worst. I was interested in the second seating for dinner, and I assumed that since I had had first seating for the first part of the trip, it would be easy to change. The lady who had borrowed my Clancy had similar feelings. I advised the porter that we both were interested in the 2nd seating for dinner. Usually, the crew members on the Canadian handle these requests with skill and flair that is uncommon on Amtrak. I put on my headphones, and cranked up the volume as I listed to “Ballbreaker” from AC/DC. About 6 songs later, I began to have a funny feeling. Of course, I had not heard the first call for dinner, but I was assuming that the attendant would return and advise me if the second seating was not possible. Wrong! I walked up to my assigned diner, and saw that dinner was well in progress. The Maitre D looked at me kind of funny when I explained my desire for the 2nd seating of dinner. He explained that the company’s policy was for passengers to receive seating assignments for lunch and dinner based on the time they ate breakfast. Thus, I should have gone to the first seating. He said that he would try to work me into the 2nd seating, but there would be no promises. Thus, I might have to wait until the 3rd seating or eat in my room. The Maitre D was trying to be helpful, but I was really annoyed with the sleeping car attendant. He should have known the policy, and advised me to go to the first seating.
I located the Onboard Service Chief and explained my irritation. He focused on explaining policy, and I focused on the lax behavior of the sleeping car attendant. We did this dance for about 3 rounds before I got him to understand my complaint. Once I ate, the dinner was excellent, and the service was excellent too.
On the first night out of Toronto I had been given bottled water. No water tonight. I made a mental note to stiff this stiff when we arrived into Vancouver.
Day 3, I woke up early again. The Canadian was keeping time, and from earlier trips on the Canadian I knew to look for a long bridge crossing a river that is usually shrouded in fog. Again, I was lucky and enjoyed this view before breakfast.
After the stop in Edmonton where the station is now by the airport, we continued west. At lunch, I ordered pizza for the second time, avoiding the weird yuppie combinations on the adult menu. I was dining again with the young man from Toronto. He decided to experiment. When the meals arrived, he looked longingly at my Pizza. “Damn . . . I should have order pizza. This is nasty!” He was too embarrassed to send it back. The next moments proved why the Canadian is one of the all time great trains. The waitress observed my tablemate’s lack of enthusiasm for his meal, and asked if he would like pizza instead. “Is that OK?’ he asked. “Sure” she said. The waitress had not heard him complain; she had sensed his displeasure and had taken the initiative to resolve his displeasure. This was definitely first class service. When his pizza came, he inhaled it, and thanked the waitress repeatedly. I advised him that we would soon be entering the Rocky Mountains, and that he should head to the Park car with his Camera. We agreed to meet in the Park car in 30 minutes.
The Canadian’s entrance into Jasper is one of the most dramatic train rides in the world. The young man from Toronto had never seen the Rockies, and he literally ricocheted from one part of the dome to the other to get pictures. The other passengers enjoyed his excitement, and pretended not to hear some of his less appropriate exclamations of excitement. I was glad that he was enjoying the scenery, and I hoped that I might be creating another rail fan. I hoped that he would see that there was more to life than gangs.
We arrived into Jasper on time, and thus had about 90 minutes to walk around the town. I saved my digital pictures to a CD rom at a small store, and found a place to buy a snack. The mountains surround Jasper, and provide a backdrop for enjoying the fresh air. I checked Email, and made phone calls before getting back on the train.
As the train pulled out of Jasper, the porter made his first appearance since Winnipeg. I had forgotten what he looked like. He knocked on my door, and when I opened he greeted me enthusiastically. I assumed that he must have recognized me from another trip. So I said, “Were you on here when I traveled in the winter, or in the summer.” He looked at m like I was crazy. “No, I’ve been your attendant since Winnipeg.” I said, oh . . . well I haven’t SEEN you since Winnipeg so I forgot what you looked like.” He muttered that my door had been shut a lot. I reminded him that he owed me two bottles of water. Later that night, I got 1. This guy was a real loser.
The remainder of the day consisted of fabulous mountain vistas. I spent time in the dome car, and enjoyed the views from the dining car. The blackened fish was way too spicy, and thus my last meal on the Canadian was anti-climatic. I wished that they had a simple red meet dish option for each evening. Or just repeat the roast beef.
I went to bed at about 9:30, and it was still light out. During the night, I awoke as the train negotiated Fraser Canyon. I could see the headlight of the Canadian as it twisted through the Canyon. On other side, I saw a freight train on the CP line. I drifted back to sleep. Early in the morning, I got up and showered and shaved, and then napped until breakfast. The train had filled up and Jasper and I did not want to wait in line to shower.
The last breakfast on the Canadian was a continental one, but it was good. I had cereal and toast, plus something else. But I felt filled when I left the dining car.
We were on time into Vancouver. When I got off, I discovered that Vancouver was in the midst of a heat wave. Later, I discovered that the temperature was close to 100 degrees.
I found a cab driver who knew of a place where I could drop off my laundry to have it done and so I could pick it up later in the day before continuing on to Seattle on the Talgo train. After taking care of the Laundry, I decided I wanted a second breakfast, so I walked over to the Westin hotel that was nearby. This time, it was pancakes and bacon as I read the paper. I determined that the Bourne Supremacy was playing a several theatres in downtown Vancouver. Since I had toured Vancouver previously, I opted for the movie. After the movie, I hailed a cab driver who was on the last 20 minutes of his shift. We had a madcap ride to the laundry mat and back to the station so that he could put gas in his cab and not be fined for returning late. It was fun, and I left a big tip.
