‍08 September

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‍There was some sadness to the start of the journey. My Swiss friend was supposed to do the trip with me. We’d booked it in April 2025 and had agreed the itinerary together. However, a few weeks before our departure, she had fallen off a trail in the mountains and tumbled down the side. A tree had broken her fall, as well as her leg in several places and damaged lumbar vertebrae. Although we were both pleased that she was alive and not paralysed, there was no way she could have managed the many changes in trains and buses which were part of the package. She cancelled, relying on her insurance policy to refund her. I wasn’t certain what my travel insurance would have covered the cost of me cancelling, as I had no good reason not to travel. Fortunately, as everything had already been paid for, and we were into the non-fundable period, the travel company confirmed that there would be no additional costs to me. 

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‍My flight to Halifax, from Heathrow on the next day, was scheduled for 12.40pm. I decided I would leave home around 4pm the afternoon before, and booked myself into the Premier Inn at Terminal 4 for the overnight.

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‍I packed up the office in the afternoon and kindly neighbour took me to the train station. Whilst there, I read about the difficulties at UK airports. A failure in the air traffic control system meant that flights were grounded, and planes due to land were being diverted elsewhere. What this might mean for my flight the next day, I had no idea.

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‍I made my way by train and underground to Heathrow. Terminal 4 was packed with people and luggage, both looking lost and frustrated. When I reached my hotel, a man at the entrance had to advise those who didn’t have reservations that they were full. I booked in, went to my room, and had dinner at the packed out hotel restaurant before an early night.

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‍09 September

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‍The Canada Air app on my iPhone was still confident that my flight would depart, but at 2pm rather than the originally scheduled 12.40pm. I had a leisurely breakfast before packing up and heading out. As I walked back to the terminal, I talked with a woman who was supposed to have flown to Portugal the day before, joining a group trip touring the country. She was going to the British Airways desk to see when she might be able to fly. Fortunately for her, she’d been able to get a hotel room. Her luggage, however, was not with her.

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‍We took the crowded Elizabeth Line train to Terminals 2 & 3, where she went off to search for flights and I headed to Terminal 2. I dropped off my bag without any issues, headed through security, and bought a sandwich for lunch. The flight to Halifax was pushed back a couple of times. We finally boarded at 3.30pm.

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‍The seven hour flight passed as well as things ever do. There were only two toilets for the economy class customers, and queues formed regularly. We landed at Halifax just after 6.30pm, three hours later than originally planned. However, I was grateful to have had a flight at all!

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‍Immigration and luggage collection took very little time. By 7pm I was buying a ticket for the bus into the city. A couple from the UK sat near me. They were at the start of a two week self-drive around Nova Scotia. They shared their plans and I talked enthusiastically about my own trip years ago.

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‍Around an hour later I exited and walked the few minutes to my hotel. Having been able to eat the food on the plane, I decided I didn’t need anything further and settled into my room for the night. 

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‍11 September

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‍Having a two bed room to myself did mean being able to spread out rather than negotiate luggage space. However, it still pained me to see my clothes resting the second bed rather than my friend. 

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‍I woke to heavy rainfall, the wind buffeting heavy drops against my window. I decided to remain in my room for the morning, using some food supplies I’d brought with me for my breakfast and enjoying the coffee maker. 

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‍Around 11am I ventured out. My umbrella was quickly bested by the gusts of wind, so I put up my raincoat hood. A short walk brought me to the pick-up point for the day’s activity: A guided wine tour in the Annapolis valley.

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‍The van was already parked outside the hotel, and the driver/guide greeted me. There were eight of us in total. Around 11.30am we headed out for the hour long drive. Our driver pointed out places of interest as he drove and told us some of the history of wine growing in Nova Scotia. 

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‍We stopped at the look-out point at Grand Pre. I had visited here in 2021, when I had driven myself around Nova Scotia for three weeks. Looking out over the valley, down to the coast line, brought back many happy memories. I had enjoyed that holiday, even though I had done it on my own. Perhaps this trip through Canada would be equally as happy, even if it were without my friend?

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‍Our first vineyard was called Grand Pre. As with many of the establishments, it had been set up by a family. The original house was now an inn. We sampled five wines under a marquee, and helped ourselves to cheese, fruit, and bread. Not quite a lunch, but it helped to soak up the alcohol.

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‍The temperate climate of the area lends more to white wine than red. I liked the dry whites, not so much the rose nor the sweeter ones. Our last glass was of ‘ice cider’, a bit like ‘ice wine’ in that the apples are allowed to freeze before being squeezed and fermented. 

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‍We visited the shop and I bought a small bottle of ice wine. It was too early in the trip to consider anything larger. 

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‍Second vineyard was Benjamin Bridge. I had visited this winery in 2021, but sampled with caution as I was driving. We sat indoors and were given three wines to taste. The sparkling was very good. I was less keen on the others, again a bit too sweet for me. Our group listened to what the local staff member wanted to tell us about the vineyard and the wines. Sadly, the other group in the room, who were on a corporate day out, decided to talk loudly amongst themselves. I did try to ask them to quieten down but they ignored me, continuing to chunter loudly in French. 

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‍A pair of young women from Vancouver were with us. I noted that one had a plastic bag filled with ice-cubes which she kept applying to her arm. When I asked whether she’d been injured, the answer was negative. She pulled back her sleeve to show the large bumps left by multiple mosquito bites. I winced in sympathy. None of the rest of us had been attacked. 

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‍Final stop was at Lightfoot & Wolfville. We went downstairs to a long, narrow room. Three glasses had already been set out in each place, offering samples of white, rose, and red. By this time our group had bonded, possibly aided by alcohol. The corporate people left long before we did, many of them leaving their wine untouched. Our group decided that waste was a crime, and we scooped up the glasses. A couple of us poured wine into water bottles for consumption later. Others simply drank it there.

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‍On the drive back various songs were played through the loudspeakers and people sang loudly. I continued my conversations with the young couple sitting next to me. They had recently purchased a house and the triumph of their day was that they’d bought a corkscrew. That was something their new home was missing. When they’ve recovered from the cost of becoming home owners, they plan to get married. 

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‍By this time the clouds had cleared and we were enjoying a lovely day. Upon our return to Halifax, I said goodbye to the group and hurried to my hotel. Dumping my purchases and coat in my room, I then set off to the restaurant at which I booked a reservation for 6pm. I arrived a few minutes’ late, but that wasn’t a problem.

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‍Although it wasn’t cheap (Canadian $65.00 before tax, around £40.00), I decided to have lobster. Yes, I enjoy the opportunity to dissect my dinner. The last time I’d had a whole lobster was in Provincetown, Massachusetts, 2012. I did remember how to crack open the claws to extract the meat. 

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‍Afterwards I walked along the harbourfront in the evening sunshine. At an ice-cream shop, I bought a single scoop of maple crunch, delicious in a waffle cone. After sitting down to enjoy it, I walked back to my hotel.

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‍12 September

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‍I have the tendency to keep to my usual sleep patterns even on holiday. So I rose at 6.30am to have coffee and breakfast in my room. I again investigated the options for the 1.2 mile trip to the Via Rail Halifax train station, and in the end ordered an Uber instead of fighting my luggage to get to a bus. 

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‍At 9.30am I was packed up and outside the hotel. A large crane was doing who knows what, but it blocked the drive up to the hotel entrance. The Uber driver and I exchanged messages, and found each other after a couple of attempts.

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‍At the train station, I bumped into the UK couple I’d met on the bus. They were collecting their rental car from the station, and we were pleased to see each other one more time. 

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‍For the overnight Via Rail trains, large cases have to be checked in. I’d taken what I needed for the overnight and packed this into a small canvas bag. This with my backpack were my carry ons. 

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‍At 10.30am we queued to at the service desk. I was given a blue wrist band to wear (which showed that I was in a Sleeper Plus cabin) and I booked the 12pm lunch slot. A walk down the side of the train brought me to my car, where a woman called Diana welcomed me. I climbed up the steps and found my cabin. It was a bit compact, but well-planned out, with space under the seats for luggage and a cabinet offering a bit more storage area. The toilet compartment was also compact, but clean and stocked with towels. 

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‍I took a seat and caught up on emails. We pulled out on time at 11.30am, heading through Nova Scotia and later New Brunswick. Sunlight highlighted the green trees and sparkled on the many lakes and rivers. Countryside alternated with towns and cities, the train stopping at various times for embarkation and disembarkation.

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‍At lunch, I was seated at a two person table, sharing this with a Canadian woman who had been visiting family in Halifax and was using the train to return home. Our conversation was wide ranging. Now retired, she had been involved in research, and I was amused when she talked about collecting cow ovaries. I pointed out that matchboxes or stamps might have been a less messy alternative.

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‍I mentioned that my cabin was rather compact. She then showed me the cabin she was in, which was designed for single travellers. The toilet was in the cabin itself, next to the passenger seat. At night, this would be inaccessible, as the seat would be used to create a bed above it. I resolved to be grateful that I had a cabin designed for two.

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‍Lunch was clam chowder and then a choice between beef, fish, or vegetarian. Dessert was carrot cake. I had a hazy IPA, which I had thought was only 3.6% in strength. I’d misunderstood the waiter, and it was actually 6%. I hoped I wouldn’t fall asleep afterwards. 

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‍There was a drinks reception at 2.30pm. In the lounge car, we were given a half glass of sparkling wine, and a chap told us about the history of the railway and the train in which we were in. Half of the cars were Canadian built from the 1950s. I was in the newer ones, originally built for the Eurostar.  

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‍At 4pm the same chap did a talk, in a different car, about the maritime area we were passing through. At 5pm the same woman and I chose to sit together for dinner. Starter was soup or salad, and I had the latter. There were four options for dinner, a beef dish, pork, fish, or vegetarian. Dessert was cheesecake. I had a glass of red wine. 

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‍The woman was trying very hard to change her cabin. After each stop, she was checking in with the train staff, hoping that a no-show meant that she could upgrade. 

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‍I returned to my cabin, going later to the lounge car for a wine tasting. We had a small amount of Tidal Bay, the wine brand which any Nova Scotian vineyard can make so long as certain rules of grape blends are followed. The chap gave us each a small piece of lemon. After drinking most of our sample, we were invited to suck on the lemon before returning to the wine. As he had said, this made the wine taste sweeter than before. Not something I’ve tried to do before. 

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‍The last bit of entertainment was a quiz based on trivial facts about Nova Scotia and New Brunswick. I sipped a glass of white wine whilst utterly failing to know the answers to any of the questions. The first person to raise a hand with the correct response won a small piece of chocolate. Several people took pity on me and shared out their winnings. 

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‍When I returned to my cabin, both bunk beds had been prepared. I managed to push the upper one back up to the wall, giving me headroom in the one below. The bed was very narrow, and I did worry, as I crawled into it, whether I might roll off in the night. 

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‍12 September

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‍I slept acceptably but not entirely well. At one point in the night, a strong smell filled the cabin. It reminded me of skunk, and I wondered whether we were passing some industrial area. 

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‍We’d crossed a time zone during the night, and although I got up at 6.30am this was in effect an hour’s lie in. I headed off to the dining car for breakfast. I was seated with a woman on her way to visit her daughter. She had been in one of the solo cabins, and found it equally uncomfortable as the other person who had been complaining about the accommodation. Her daughter was her only child, and had decided not to have children. I could tell that this was a source of great sadness to my breakfast companion. Daughter was now 42 years old and so it seemed unlikely that this would change. 

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‍After a rather nice crepe with nuts, seeds, and fruit, plus maple syrup, I moved tables to sit with a couple of women with whom I’d been speaking the evening before. We admired the farmland through which we were now travelling, with some lovely glimpses of cathedrals in the towns. Both were university teachers, one retired, the other envious as she had another few years of work to go. They were intrigued by my month in Yellowknife last year, during which I joined the in-person training for those looking to offer ministry in the Anglican Church of Canada. Most of the students had been Inuit, and we talked about cultural differences. 

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‍When I returned to my cabin, the beds had been tidied away. I relaxed, reading emails and looking out my window at the scenery. 

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‍We pulled into Montreal slightly early, around 10.30am. I exited the train, and trudged along the platform to the station. I had no idea that the train had some many carriages. I passed the economy section, which offered reclining chairs. Then I came across the solo cabins. Peering through the window revealed that these were as grim as described, with the toilet indeed in the middle of the floor. 

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‍At the station, luggage came on a baggage claim similar to that of an airport. The woman I’d shared a couple of meals with came to say goodbye. My case was one of the first to emerge, and I claimed it before trudging through the station and out to the streets.

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‍My hotel was around a half mile away. I negotiated the rather cracked sidewalks to my accommodation. I had anticipated leaving my bags in hotel storage, but to my great delight I was allowed to access my room. This proved to be very large, with a well-stocked mini bar. Items for purchase included a tin of condoms! That was a first for me. Apples rested on shelves in the corridor outside, which I assume were for public consumption not decoration. Another nice touch was that the glasses in the room were etched with the room’s number. 

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‍I took a shower. Although the train cabin had one, this was in the toilet compartment, which meant the entire on-suite would have been wet afterwards. Feeling happily refreshed, I headed out.

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‍To save legs, I had thought to take the bus to the old town area. Bus services were disrupted for various reasons (a sign helpfully explained this in French), so I decided to walk instead. This led me past the Anglican cathedral, a movie shoot (don’t know the title), and the Roman Catholic cathedral. I had visited the latter when in Montreal back in 2017, when I’m certain entrance was free. There was now a charge, and I didn’t feel the need to go in again.

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‍I had lunch (well, the restaurant called in brunch) in a French styled place. The waffle was covered with fruit and fried chicken, over which I poured maple syrup. An intriguing concoction. I chose coffee to accompany it.

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‍Afterwards I continued my walk to the old town area. I remembered it well from previous visit. As before, I enjoyed going into the galleries which offered Inuit art for sale. I successfully avoided buying any of the carved sculptures, although one dancing bear did temporarily tempt me. 

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‍A group protesting the dairy industry had set up displays. Ten women stood nearby, dressed in beige stockings, red stain between their legs (to look like blood, I assume) and suction cups affixed to their breasts. Another woman with a megaphone was imploring us to think of how cows must feel to be milked every day. ‘Cows are not milk machines.’

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‍The area was heaving with fellow tourists. I had thought to stop somewhere for a beer, but so had half the population of Canada. All outdoor seating was occupied, and I had no interest in sitting inside on a lovely sunny day. 

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‍I encountered a wedding couple wandering around the area having photos taken, and later on a stag party in which the groom was dressed as a penguin and his friends wore t-shirts bearing his image. 

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‍After several hours of strolling and retail therapy, I made my way to the nearest metro station. There I had to cope with an antiquated method of accessing public transport. One had to buy a physical ticket, from the one and only machine present (which meant there was quite a queue). Said ticket was then used to go through a turnstile. I’m so used to just tapping my credit card in London to use the underground. I was able to do the same in Singapore. Maybe at some point Montreal will enter the 21st century.

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‍I navigated my way back to my hotel. After the large lunch/brunch, I was quite happy to snack on items in my room rather than venture out for another meal. I also decided to have the beer from the minibar. The bar area in the hotel hadn’t looked that interesting. 

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‍Although I still wished that my Swiss friend was walking alongside me, I found myself smiling at the people I’d met on the train. No doubt there would be more opportunities for interesting conversations as I continued my journey. 

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‍13 September

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‍The weather forecast had warned of rain. Although the streets were wet, I was able to walk in a short dry period to the office of the travel company providing my day excursion. On the way, I passed a man sleeping in a doorway. Food scraps were spread across the pavement nearby, and seagulls fought over the debris.

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‍The woman at the check in desk had a separate note regarding my booking, noting that one person had been dropped from the excursion. At 8am, around twenty of us boarded a coach which could have taken around twice that number. 

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‍The drive to Quebec, our destination, took around three hours. We had a comfort break at the half-way point. The coach also had a toilet (or, as the Canadians call it, a wash room) at the back. 

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‍Rain came and went. We disembarked during another dry period in the old town section of Quebec. A local guide met us there and took us up the cobbled streets. We admired the chateau, craning our necks to look up at the building perched high above us. At the square, our guide explained how Quebec often stands in for places in France or Germany for TV and film productions. I must admit, it did feel like I was standing in part of France. A large wall mural enabled our guide to talk us through the history of the city, including the battles between the French and the English.

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‍We returned to the coach for the twenty-minute drive to Montmorency Falls. We had around forty minutes to use the boardwalk to go close to the plunging water. The falls are 83 metres tall, so thirty metres higher than Niagara Falls. Although the path nearer the foot of the falls was blocked off and signs warned not to go further, of course people had ignored this. A man was fishing in the river. 

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‍The coach returned us to Quebec, giving us a bit of a driving tour past the parliament building and the site of the Battle of the Plains of Abraham. This was an important battle in the Seven Years’ War, known as the French and Indian War to Americans. Interestingly, it took place on 13 September 1759, so we were there on its anniversary. The battle was between the British and French Army, and the generals on both sides lost their lives, namely James Wolfe and Louis-Joseph de Montcalm. The French evacuated the city. In 1763, following a further defeat, the French ceded most of its land possessions in North America to Great Britain. 

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‍We were returned to the old town, and had around three hours to explore the area. I had a delicious breast of duck in a restaurant, taking the risk of sitting outside. Afterwards, I browsed craft stalls set up at a nearby church and walked over to admire the chateau. A flock of sparrows dashed into the bush next to me, and a second later a falcon swerved past. I watched him land in a nearby tree, shaking his feathers in what seemed to be annoyance that he hadn’t managed to catch lunch. 

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‍Rain returned, very heavy, and I erected my umbrella. Despite the wet, it was rather warm and muggy. I ducked into a few stores, doing my best to not drip water all over their floors. I was careful making my way down the steps to the lower part of town, as the wood was a bit slippery with the puddled water.

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‍The coach collected us at 4.30pm and we started the three-hour drive back to Montreal. Again there was a comfort break around 90 minutes in. Just after 8pm we arrived at the offices and I walked back to my hotel. A long day, but Quebec was worth seeing. Beautiful city.

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‍14 September

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‍Although I’m staying in rather nice (not budget!) hotels throughout Canada, most did not offer a free breakfast. This one did. I had left yesterday morning too early for the restaurant’s weekend opening hours, but today I was able to enjoy smoked salmon, crispy bacon, scrambled eggs, French toast, and a bagel along with fruit and very strong coffee. 

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‍Packing up my bags, I made my way back down to the train station. The pavement on the right side of the road was in better shape and easier on my suitcase. At the train station, my bag was weighed (scale said 24kg, which I doubt) and I entered the business class lounge of Via Rail where I had another strong coffee. 

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‍A porter took bags from us, asking which railcar they needed to go to. This did make embarkation easier, as there was no lift, only an escalator. I found my bag in the railcar corridor, and a man helped me to lift it to a shelf in the luggage area. 

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‍I’ve not ridden business class in a train before. The seats were very comfortable, with electricity sockets nearby. We were brought coffee twice (by this time I was buzzing with caffeine) and a piece of cake. I’d pre-ordered my lunch, a piece of salmon with roast vegetables. This was accompanied by a salad and a cake. Drinks were included, so I had a hazy IPA. I declined a second. 

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‍My seat mate should have been my friend, of course. But I spoke instead to the woman who was there, travelling for work. She was three months pregnant with her first child to be and planning to take 12 months as maternity leave. ‘I can’t wait not to work for a year,’ she said. I bit my tongue, deciding she’d find out for herself that looking after a baby was jolly hard work itself.

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‍Our train arrived an hour late into Toronto, around 3pm. I walked to my hotel. Although wanting to immediately head out for sight-seeing, I needed to do laundry. The hotel wanted a small fortune for doing my washing, so I used the bathroom sink and hung shirts and smalls in the shower to dry. 

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‍I finally departed around 4pm. A choice had to be made. The CN Tower or the Distillery District? I didn’t feel I’d have time for both, so I used my iPhone to plot a walking route to the Tower.

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‍To my surprise, this not only took me to the train station, but through the station and a walkway to the plaza. I bought my ticket, gulping a little at the price (Canadian $47.00, around £25.00). Tickets are timed, and I had to wait a half an hour for my turn to go up in the large lift. 

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‍The central viewing area was shut to visitors, which had been fully explained when I bought the ticket. I admired the views from the lower level. A clear walkway allows you to peer past your feet down to the streets below, which a bit unnerving. 

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‍As I queued to go back down, a member of staff asked me, ‘Have you been to the top?’ Normally going up to the very top section costs extra, but because the middle area was shut, people were permitted to travel up for free. In a much smaller lift I did so, and gazed across Toronto at the height of 446 metres. The Tower was the tallest in the world from 1975 to 2007. Since then, first Taipei 101 in Taiwan and then Burj Khalifa in Dubai have claimed that distinction.

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‍I returned to the ground and pondered my options. Even using public transport meant that the earliest I’d arrive at the Distillery Quarter would be 7pm, and the shops and exhibits shut at 8pm. Then there would be the journey back to my hotel. I decided not to go.

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‍From the CN Tower I had seen several old train engines parked up nearby. I made my way through crowds of people obviously headed for a baseball game in the nearby sports grounds. Go Toronto Jays! After admiring the trains, I went into the nearby brewpub. They were doing a roaring business with sports fans. I bought a half pint of a red ale and a hotdog, enjoying both. 

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‍The walk back to the hotel allowed me to admire the very tall skyscrapers of downtown Toronto. Even away from the ballpark, the city was buzzing with people. 

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‍15 September

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‍After the usual breakfast in my room, I walked to the hotel opposite the train station, the Fairmont York Royal. For the day trip to Niagara Falls, the instructions had been that the coach would collect people from the York Street entrance to the hotel, and I was to be there by 9.20am.

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‍The coach ran late, not appearing until 9.40am. A German gentlemen, there with his adult grandchildren, was particularly perturbed by this. Ten of us boarded, finding that we were joining around another twenty people. 

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‍The drive to Niagara Falls took around 90 minutes. Our guide was informative and jolly, although shaky with her verb/noun agreements. For example, when we passed a bridge which allowed vehicles to cross between Canada and the USA, she commented, ‘Trucks is less today than I’d expect.’  

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‍We arrived at the falls around 11.30am. Most people had booked the full package of lunch and boat tour. My friend and I had opted out of this, as she wasn’t that interested in the boat experience. The guide said I could change my mind about both. I decided I wouldn’t join the group for lunch but I’d contemplate the boat.

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‍I must admit to being a bit underwhelmed by Niagara. From the walkway you can see the two falls thundering out of upper state New York. And that was it for the views. There are various other activities one can do, such as zip-lining, going behind the falls, helicopter rides, etc. But I was more impressed by the Iguazu Falls at Brazil/Argentina, with multiple paths and viewing areas. 

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‍Trusting the weather forecast, I hadn’t packed a jacket nor umbrella. My mistake. Showers slashed against my unprotected clothing, augmented by spray sent across when the wind blew in the right direction. I retreated to a café for a sandwich lunch and a coffee. The latter came in a cardboard cup with folds to provide a small opening for consumption. The cardboard soon became soggy, and I tore out bits to make it more like a normal cup.

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‍Afterwards I went back out into temporary sunshine for more photos. At 1.30pm I reported to the bus and decided to undertake the boat trip after all. I was able to buy a ticket and joined the rest of the group. 

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‍We were given plastic ponchos to wear. The advice was to tie a knot in the bottom to stop the plastic from flying up in the wind. We boarded the boat, most of us heading up the stairs to the viewing area. 

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‍We were taken into the Horseshoe, the falls thundering around us and the spray doing its best to get through our waterproof layer. I had decided not to risk my digital camera, having left it and backpack on the coach, instead using my iPhone to capture photo and videos of the experience. 

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‍We returned to the dock and added to the planet’s plastic waste by dumping our single-use ponchos into provided bins. I bought a rain jacket branded with the company’s logo and a Canadian flag. ‘A bit too late for that,’ one of the group told me. ‘But I can use it on other occasions,’ I replied, as I plan to keep it permanently in my car. 

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‍Most of us were back at the coach at 3pm as instructed. Unfortunately, one couple was missing. They didn’t turn up until 3.30pm. No information was offered as to why they were tardy. 

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‍We drove into the wine growing region. At Bella Terra Vineyards we had a tasting of a white wine, a white ice wine, and a red ice wine. I did like the latter, but at Canadian $75.00 it was quite expensive for a very small bottle, so I resisted temptation.

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‍Our last stop was at the town of Niagara-on-the-Lake. This was a tourist trap, with multiple shops and restaurants lining the long street. However, the buildings were so beautiful that all was forgiven. I had a lovely maple crunch ice cream and (afterwards!) went into several shops. 

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‍The drive back to Toronto took two hours, mostly due to heavy traffic as we approached the city. I exited at the Fairmont Royal York Hotel, and walked the short distance back to mine. The laundry was nearly dry, and I started some packing for the three night train journey coming up the next day. 

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‍16 September

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‍Rose at my usual 6.30am time and had breakfast in my room. At 8am I finished my packing decisions. My camera backpack on my back, the carry on for the three night trip slung over a shoulder, and my main case rolling behind me. I checked out and walked down to the train station.

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‍I had established that I needed to drop off my luggage before going to check in at the business lounge. When I arrived at the luggage area, I was the only person present. By the time my case was weighed and tagged, suddenly thirty people had come and formed a long queue behind me. Grateful for my luck, I headed to the lounge, checked in, elected for the early seating for lunch and dinner (11am and 5pm), made a coffee, and found a seat.

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‍Boarding began at 9.20am. My rail car was near the escalator which brought us up to the platform. The steward for the car welcomed me and pointed me in the direction of my cabin, namely E. I went inside and viewed the two chairs, once again missing my friend. On the other hand, the lack of storage in the cabin meant that I would be more comfortable on my own. I turned one chair around so that when the train set off I’d be facing the direction of travel.

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‍At 10.30am I went to the dome area for a welcome drink. There were only 24 seats, so we were asked to be mindful of taking turns as necessary. The windows provided great views of the sunny skies and the green countryside. During the course of the day I was amazed by the number of lakes we passed. Trees were still green, a few beginning to change colour.

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‍Lunch was lentil soup as a starter. I ordered the fried chicken breast sandwich for my main course, and was pleased that this was a real piece of chicken, not a manufactured patty. Dessert was a brownie with vanilla ice cream.

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‍I returned to the dome car at 1pm for a talk about the railway. There were other activities on offer, including a bingo session. One car had board and card games available, along with puzzles. Fruit, cookies, water, and hot drinks were on permanent offer. 

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‍The afternoon passed pleasantly. I mostly spent it in my cabin, catching up on emails when we had a signal, reading a book during the many times in which we did not. The train did not have WiFi, and we were passing through remote areas. Usually I could only get cellular access when we were going through or stopping at a town.

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‍As I sometimes do, I’d brought the paperback of one of my novels with me. The lounge coach had a book exchange area, and I left ‘Penny White and the Cult of Unicorns’ there. Much to my pleasure, when I passed the area a few hours later, someone had taken it. 

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‍Evening meal was either a salad or cream of mushroom soup as a starter, options of steak, cod, chicken, or pasta for main course, and chocolate cake or cheesecake for dessert. A pretzel stick was the bread option. The food was incredibly good, amazing for a train. 

‍

‍I joined a wine tasting session at 7.15pm, surprised that only around ten people were there. We sampled two Ontario wines, a chardonnay and a merlot cabernet. We all preferred the white wine. 

‍

‍During the wine tasting, a woman and I kept eyeing each other. I felt I knew her, but also shrugged it off. However, afterwards she came up and said, ‘You’re Chrys, aren’t you?’ We did indeed know each other. She was a Reader (lay minister) at a church in my diocese. Earlier in the day, one of the train staff had told us that there were 236 passengers on board. What were the chances that this would include someone I knew?

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‍I’d had a number of conversations during the day with a woman travelling to Winnipeg with her adult son. They were in the berth section, seats on which two people could sit by day, the area converted into bunk beds for the night. No doors sealed them off; curtains could be drawn and there were shared toilets nearby. I wandered back from the wine tasting to find her waiting to get a signal on her phone. During the course of the day she had misplaced her purse, which contained all her bank and other cards. The staff were aware, but she also wanted to contact her husband and start the process of having banks cancel her credit and debit cards. 

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‍When I returned to my cabin, the bed had been made up. As per my request, the top bunk was left folded back. I sat on the bed to write up this report and afterwards to continue to read my book. The bed was a bit wider and more comfortable than on the ‘Ocean’, but I did continue to miss the storage space the cabin on the previous train journey had offered. 

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‍17 September

‍

‍For some reason, it was when the train stopped in the night that I woke up. I slept well when it was moving. The few extra inches width on the bed as compared to the ‘Ocean’ meant that I didn’t worry about falling out when I turned over during the night.

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‍Unlike lunch or dinner, breakfast was ‘turn up when you want’. When I went to the dining car at 7am, all seats were taken, so I went to the lounge car behind and put my name on the waiting list. Around twenty minutes later a table was free, and I ordered the pancakes with bacon and maple syrup.

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‍During the day, I alternated between my cabin and the lounge cars. At various times, when we were in towns, I could get a signal on my iPhone to download emails and upload photos to Facebook. I also attended a talk about the area of Canada through which we were travelling. 

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‍Lunch was rice and chicken soup as a starter, and I had chilli fried beef on rice as my main course. Couldn’t resist the cheesecake for dessert. 

‍

‍We experienced a bit of rain mid-morning, but otherwise we again had blue skies and bright sunshine. We had entered the Canadian Shield, large outcroppings of rock adding to the landscape of trees and lakes. A large section of our journey went through areas devastated by wildfires. At some points during the summer, the train could not run through the area. 

‍

‍The Reader and I met up again during the day. She reminded me that the essay she’d submitted, when I had taught Ethics to lay ministers, had been over length and I’d sent it back insisting that she trim it! I recalled this, and although she made it clear that she wasn’t complaining, I said that I’d allow a 10% margin over the limit, but from memory she’d been well in excess of this. 

‍

‍I joined others to watch a documentary about the ‘Canadian’, shown on a small screen in the lounge car. The presenter was permitted behind the scenes in the kitchens and engine area. He also talked about the history of the railroad and the difficulties of building a line through the wetlands of Ontario.

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‍After dinner, a number of us went to visit the Park Car. This was the last car of the train, at the far end. It took more than five minutes to walk the entire length, and the journey led past the single cabins, more of the berths, and then the posh area of Prestige Class (cabins which offer showers as well as toilets and a double bed at night). We were permitted to use the Park Car after 5pm, but not to access the dome car, which was reserved for Prestige Class customers only.

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‍The Park Car (named after the national parks) featured its own bar. Padded seats lined the walls. I ordered a white wine and joined others in the comfortable area, sharing drinks and chat whilst the sun set. For a while I was seated next to a woman who had been in the Canadian Army for five years and was now a firefighter. She left the Army because ‘I didn’t want to be owned by the government’ and was far happier in her second occupation. She was travelling with her father, and as he’d recently undergone a hip operation, they were staying in an accessible cabin in the Prestige class area albeit their cabin had bunk beds. 

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‍We were told that we’d be crossing yet another time zone during the night, so we had to drop our clocks an hour back again. Another reminder of the vastness of Canada and the length of our journey. 

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‍18 September

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‍Woke up just before 6.30am and headed off for breakfast. I had the pancakes with bacon again. A man from England, who works on trains and loves to travel on trains for his holidays, confused the waitress by asking for a fried egg. I quickly translated for him. ‘He means an egg sunny side up, or over easy.’

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‍Across from us were two women from Sweden, who expressed hope that we’d see ‘buffalo.’ I stated quite confidently that we wouldn’t see any bison. Two minutes later, we passed a herd of them, grazing not far from the train. It seems that bison are farmed in the area, grown for their meat. There were not wild bison. But I still sat corrected. 

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‍Afterwards, I headed for the dome car to watch dawn light spread across the landscape. We were now in Alberta, travelling across the prairies. Vast fields of grain alternated with scrubland. Huge grain silos hulked near the tracks, as this was where the grain from Canada’s ‘bread basket’ was loaded on to train cars.

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‍Lunch was a smoked beef sandwich with coleslaw, followed by a delicious apple crumble. The chap sitting next to me was thrilled, stating ‘It’s just like how my mom used to make it.’

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‍I attended a talk about the prairies. The chap explained that we were just past the harvest time for canola oil flowers. I explained to an English couple near me that canola was what, in England, we called rape seed oil. The North Americans had long ago decided that no one would want to buy something bearing that name, so they came up with canola, a shortening of ‘Canada oil’. Afterwards I ordered a cider to drink at my seat.

‍

‍There was actually quite a good mobile signal, even away from towns, so I was able to catch up on emails. I attended another talk in the dome, this one about Alberta. 

‍

‍We kept losing time due to having to either pull over or stop for the many freight trains. I used one long stop to take a shower. These were shared, but quite acceptable. One had to press a button to make water run for a couple of minutes, press again for another couple, and repeat. The water was warm, towels along with soap and shampoo were provided. There was a bin for wet towels in the shower area so one didn’t have to take it back to the cabin.

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‍Dinner was salad followed by steak, a very moist rib cut with a sauce. The horseradish sauce was very mild. Dessert was cheesecake. I decided to have a glass of red wine with my meal. And I still went on to the wine tasting afterwards. 

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‍As the sun set I retired to my cabin. I enjoyed the time on the train, but I decided that three nights was long enough. 

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‍19 September

‍

‍I rose at 6am and made my way to the lounge car. There was lukewarm coffee and fruit available, and shortly after I arrived blueberry muffins were offered. We pulled into Jasper station at 6.31am, amazingly only one minute after the expected time.

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‍A number of us collected our possessions and tried to disembark. Our steward told us to return to our cabins and he would let us know when we could leave. I did as instructed, but when at 7am I saw people on the platform, I decided to leave. The door in our section was still locked, but in the next car along the door was open.

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‍I collected my main bag and, in the pre-dawn light, walked out of town and to my hotel. This was nearly a mile away, but the journey was flat and after all the food on the train I needed the exercise. 

‍

‍At the check in desk, the woman told me that, with regret, 7.30am was far too soon for me to access my room. I assured her that I fully understood this, but would like to leave my bag in storage before returning to town. I pulled my warm fleece out of the main bag, as there was a definite nip in the air.

‍

‍Back to the town, where I found the outlet which sold tickets to the Jasper SkyTram and a shuttle to take me there. I booked for the first shuttle, 9.30am, and the first flight up, namely 10.06am. I had enough time to buy and drink a coffee.

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‍The shuttle was on time and took us out of town. In 2024 a fire had blazed through the area, destroying part of the town. We passed temporary housing and lots of burnt out trees. Several lightning strikes caused the fires.

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‍The SkyTram was built in 1964 and is the highest and longest aerial tramway in Canada. Over twenty of us were crammed into the sealed compartment, and seven minutes later emerged at 2.263 metres above sea level on Whistlers Mountain (supposedly named after the whistling sound made by the marmots). 

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‍We had clear views back down into the valley and across to Mount Robson, the highest peak in the Canadian Rockies at 3,954 metres. Snow glistened on the top. I walked along the boardwalk, taking photos and admiring the landscape. Long cargo trains snaked their way far below us. I decided not to take the path to the summit, but missed my friend once again. She no doubt would have galloped up the path, considering it an easy one compared to what she was used to in the Swiss Alps.

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‍I returned to the base and took the 12.20pm shuttle back to town. There I visited several gift shops. I had read about ammolite, a gemstone made from the fossilised shells of ammonites. Although ammonites can be found in many parts of the world, Canadian ammolite is unique because geological conditions in the southern Alberta area have preserved the shell’s original aragonite (a naturally occurring crystal form). The layers of aragonite interact with light, providing shifting colours of reds, oranges, greens, blues, and purple. I had decided, should I find a piece of jewellery I liked incorporating ammolite, I would buy it as a 60th birthday present to myself.

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‍As I browsed one shop, I saw several appealing rings. The assistant and I worked out my ring size, and I tried them out. The one I decided to buy came, rather conveniently, from the discount shelf. I liked the shifting colours, particularly as there was a band of blue, which is one of the rarer colours. It came with a certificate of grading and authenticity. 

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‍After visiting a few more stores (and hoping that none of them would have a ring I would have preferred to buy!), I went to a brewpub for a half pint of their red ale and a burger. 

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‍I returned to the hotel, and was able to access my room. At 4pm, I boarded the bus for an evening ‘Wildlife Tour.’ The almost overly informative guide/driver took us out of town, looking for critters. 

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‍We came across a juvenile bald eagle early on, then a couple of Bighorn sheep high above us. About thirty minutes later, we came across a small group of Bighorn sheep near the road, and humans who were far too close to them. Our guide clambered out of the bus to tell them off. ‘You’re supposed to keep thirty feet away from wildlife, this isn’t a petting zoo!’

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‍As we continued, the landscape photographer in me sighed at the excellent evening light on the yellowing trees. If I had been driving myself, I would have pulled over for photos. I was pleased to hear our guide talk about how climate change was totally natural. After all the years she has lived in the area, and the many scientists on board her trips, she has learnt that the world has gone through ice ages and warmer periods. ‘People, remember that when the scaremongers try to tell you that we’re all going to die. The climate has changed many times, and we’ve always adapted.’

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‍We stopped for a comfort break at Lake Maligne, encountering some white-tailed deer in the car park. A woman tried to accost our guide about her comments regarding climate change, but the guide was unapologetic. ‘I tell people the truth, not what they want to hear.’

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‍As we returned to Jasper, we encountered several moose, first a mother and calf, then a female on her own. The Bighorn sheep were where we had left them, and we watched them cross the road and jump over the fence. Finally, an elk and her calf were spotted near the road. The glorious sunset again made the landscape photographer in me sigh, wishing I could pull over to do it justice.

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‍Around 8pm I was dropped off at my hotel. I had a snack meal in my room, as I was still full from my late lunch. 

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‍20 September

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‍Back to breakfast in my room. As with all other hotel rooms thus far, a coffee maker enabled me to have decent caffeine first thing.

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‍The morning’s excursion was by coach to Lake Maligne. The driver/guide was the same woman as last evening, and she gave pretty much the same talk, almost word for word. We headed out in early morning light, early on stopping to photograph a male elk. He all but glowed in the sunshine. We also stopped at Medicine Lake, and the sun came around the mountains during our pause there.

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‍Our destination was the Lake Maligne. We arrived 9.20am, giving us time for a comfort break before reporting for our 9.45am boat ride. Clouds were providing sky interest for photos. I stayed inside the boat, pressing my iPhone against the windows to cut out glare. 

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‍A young man jollied us along, teasing the boat’s captain and telling us stories of the area. Once we reached Spirit Island (which is more often a peninsula, depending on water levels), we had around twenty minutes to leave the boat and admire the island from a look out point. 

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‍Spirit Island has long been a place of spiritual significance to the Stoney Nakoda, the local indigenous people. Visitors are not permitted to walk on it, and pipe and other ceremonies have been held on the island. 

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‍A group of twenty-two Germans were on board. I spoke at length to two of them, very pleased when they did not try to use English. One was interested in doing the ‘Canadian’, but had felt it could be unsafe (?). I gave her a card for my travel blog so she can read this once published.

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‍The journey took around ninety minutes. We had a little time for a comfort break and to look at the shop before returning to the bus. During our return to Jasper, a stop was made to admire a perching bald eagle, and to look at the views of Maligne Valley. A person on another tour had seen a Grizzly bear with two cubs, and our guide drove back up the road to see if we could have the same luck. After ten minutes of futile searching, we turned around and went back to Jasper.

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‍I had decided not to go back to town, having seen all I’d wanted of souvenir shops. As I drew near to my hotel, I watched a rather ancient mini motorvan being loaded on to a flatbed tow truck. A woman was photographing the process. ‘That’s my home,’ she explained sadly. The motorvan had sprung a leak, and was being taken to a mechanic. I sketched a blessing and told her, ‘I’m a priest, maybe that’ll help.’ That made her smile. 

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‍My case was quite disorganised after the overnights on the train, so I spent some time sorting clothing into appropriate packing cubes. I downloaded the photos from my camera and backed them up. 

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‍Dinner was at a nearby grill. I was there at happy hour, so I had a pint of honey ale (it tasted fine, not sweet) and BBQ ribs. Sitting outside meant nice views, but when the wind blew pine needles fell across my table. I put my hand over my beer to protect me from unwanted vegetation. ‘Extra vitamin C!’ my waiter joked.

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‍21 September

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‍Almost every holiday, there is a morning when I wake up with a combination of headache/neckache. And today was the day. I got up at 6.30am, had breakfast, coffee, and ibuprofen, then went back to bed for thirty minutes. Headache had eased, but a slightly sore throat and a runny nose revealed that I was also developing a cold.

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‍At 8am I headed out to find my coach for the trip from Jasper to Lake Louise. There were eighteen of us on the bus, some going on to Banff. There was plenty of room and I had two seats to myself. To my surprise, we were each given a small breakfast bag, comprising of a croissant, jam, breakfast bar, sliced apples, and a fruit drink. 

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‍We headed out, the sun taking a while to rise above the mountain peaks. Our first stop was at Athabasca Falls. The prime viewing spot was crowded, and we took it in turns to take our photos. As ever, what seemed to take people longest were their attempts at selfies with the gushing waterfall behind them. The narrow gorge did make the waterfall very attractive.

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‍Our driver/guide pointed out features of the mountains as we continued through the Columbia Icefields (as the region is called). Many glaciers cling to the high peaks, most receding in recent years. 

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‍We arrived in good time to the complex in which one catches the Ice Explorer. After visiting the toilet facilities and gift shop, we lined up to board the bus which took us to the vehicles designed to drive on ice. These have huge tyres, and chug along at a slow pace on the dusty road. Once we reached the ice, we drove up a short distance before carefully disembarking.

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‍We had twenty minutes to explore the area. After so many feet and vehicles, the ice was very slippery. I decided not to venture very far. I have walked on glaciers in the past (Argentina and New Zealand), for which we had been given crampons. This time, no equipment was provided, and I had no desire to fall and sprain or break anything. The sun came and went, and we were fortunate enough to see an avalanche in the distance. My warm fleece and waterproof coat just about kept me warm enough. Our driver took photos of us upon request, including himself in each time as well.

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‍Back at the complex, we changed to another bus to visit the Glacier Skywalk. This was much more to my liking. The metal bridge with glass floor extends over the valley, offering great views. Again we had around twenty minutes before catching the bus back to the complex.

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‍Around 3pm we stopped at a picnic area for our lunch. We had been asked to order our sandwiches in advance, and I remembered I’d gone for beef. It was very pleasant to sit in the sunshine, crunching on crisps and drinking apple juice. The larch trees were bright yellow, a reminder that autumn was upon us and snow would soon be covering the area.

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‍Our final stop was Peyto Lake. Again, there were crowds at the prime viewing spots. Goodness knows what it must be like in the summer main season. People took it in turns for their photos. The shape of the lake, like a three-pronged arrowhead, and the bright blue water made it look like something out of a fairytale. I used my iPhone rather than my camera, due to the range of light. From experience, the HDR function on the phone automatically corrects what would take me a long time to process on my camera to obtain the same result. 

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‍We arrived at Lake Louise 5.30pm. I checked in. The view from my hotel room window was dire. A wall! But the hotel had seating areas outside, so that’s where I went until the sun had set. After such a late lunch, I wasn’t hungry enough for a full meal, so I had some snacks in my hotel room for my dinner.

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‍22 September

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‍When I rose at 6.30am, again with neckache, but much better than yesterday, I was certain I saw something moving. This proved to be a rather fat looking mouse. He scurried around the room for about ten minutes before disappearing. I assumed he had some way of entering and exiting from outside. I mentioned it to the front desk when I checked out. The woman thanked me for ‘being so calm about it.’ I told her, ‘We’re in the countryside!’

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‍The coach for the day’s tour was waiting outside when I left at 9.15am. My luggage was tagged and loaded. Some, like me, were using the coach also as a transfer to Banff. Others were on just as a day trip. My cold was still building, more annoying than anything else, making me feel a bit tired from time to time.

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‍We headed up to Lake Louise where we were given access to the very grand Lake Louise Chateau to use the washrooms. The hotel complex had a shopping area as well as lounges (guests only!). Afterwards, we had around half an hour to go view the lovely lake. The weather was again being good to us, sunshine with clouds to provide interest. It also felt warmer than yesterday.

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‍Our next stop was Moraine Lake. I had brought a walking pole on the holiday, but hadn’t expected to need it, so it was inaccessible in my main case. The walk to the lookout point was up 250 steps, and I would have liked to have had the extra stability on the way back down. 

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‍Another lake with stunning views and a great crowd of people. I’m again left wondering how this area copes in main season. As it was, many car parks had signs up stating that there was no parking left. Our coach had special access to parking. 

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‍We stopped at the Spiral Tunnels. Our guide explained that we’d wait for fifteen minutes in hopes that a train would come through. If one did, we would stay longer to admire the engineering feat. 

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‍When the railway opened in 1885, trains had to negotiate Big Hill, which had a gradient of 4.5%. This was dangerous, causing runaway trains. In order to solve the problem, Canadian Pacific Railway, in 1909, built two enormous tunnels inside the mountains. These act like a spiral staircase, allowing the train to make a huge loop rather than try to descend the mountain directly. The gradient was reduced to 2.2%.

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‍We were lucky. A long freight train came through. From the viewpoint we saw three parts of the train at once, going past to the tunnel, going into the tunnel, and then coming out again, on three separate levels. The guides erected a table and served us hot drinks. 

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‍Lunch was a buffet in the Emerald Lake Lodge, built by the Canadian Pacific Railway in 1902. Salad, roast potatoes, roast vegetables, BBQ chicken, and BBQ vegetarian bratwurst. 

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‍Afterwards I followed the guide’s advice and walked along the lake as far as the avalanche scar. From there I took photos of the Emerald Lake Lodge. The air was fresh and filled with the pungent scent of pines. Stellar jays swooped on leftovers left behind by picknickers. I also saw several chipmunks.

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‍‘We’ve done the lakes,’ our guide announced as we drove away. ‘Now it’s time for waterfalls.’

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‍The first was at Natural Bridge, as the area was called. A rocky formation made a natural bridge over the falls. A human made one allows for views of the structure, and the many people posing on the shore line. 

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‍Our last stop was at the Takakkaw Falls. We were definitely getting our exercise today. A ten minute walk brought one to a viewing area. As the sun was out, a rainbow formed at the foot of the main 254 metre vertical drop. The total length is 373 metres. 

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‍When we returned to the coach, the guides had erected the table again, offering water and chocolate chip cookies. One passenger was thrilled that they had a gluten free option.

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‍We returned to Lake Louise to drop people off at the two hotels. Then we drove down to Banff, where I was transferred to a smaller van to take me to the Buffalo Mountain Lodge, my accommodation for the next two nights.

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‍At the check-in desk, I was informed that I’d been given a free upgrade. I made my way through the complex and up a set of stairs (my case was carried for me) to a magnificent room. A large bathroom with a bath and separate shower, a fireplace with chairs, and a balcony. A birthday card was waiting for me along with two macaroons. I sat outside for a while, enjoying a much better view than I’d had last night.

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‍23 September

‍

‍And, suddenly, I was 60 years old. An hour after I woke up, the tax-free lump sum from my bank pension hit my bank account. And my bank sent me a message asking if the ‘unusually high value payment’ was legitimate! 

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‍Throat was very sore first thing. After a couple of mugs of coffee, the raspy feeling subsided.

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‍I headed out at 8.15 to catch the bus into town. The hotel had given me a card which provided free travel. In town I changed for the bus to the Banff Gondola. At the ticket counter, I quoted my booking code and the woman prepared my 10.10am departure ticket. ‘Return at 11am,’ she announced. ‘Please change that,’ I said. ‘To 1pm?’ I couldn’t see why anyone would want to dash up and back.

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‍The top was warmer than I’d expected it to be, and I was fine in a long-sleeved shirt and light fleece. I took photos of the surrounding mountains, but decided not to make the climb to the nearby peak. I once again missed my friend who, no doubt, would have gone on the trek. 

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‍I watched a film, read the exhibits, and had a bison hot dog for my lunch on the viewing patio. The staff allowed me to return at noon. 90 minutes was a nice, relaxed amount of time to spend at the top.

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‍Once back down, I made my way to the post office. I’d brought a present with me, to send to my mother who lives in Florida, as I expected it would be cheaper than posting it from England. It was indeed a third the cost, but I had to download a special app in order to post something from Canada to the USA. This included taking and uploading a photo of the item in question (a t-shirt). The nice man behind the counter gave me tape in order to seal up the package again.

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‍I left and discovered a farmers’ market nearby. There were all sorts of handicrafts for sale, as well as produce and fast food. I then crossed a bridge over the river in order to visit the Buffalo Nations Luxton Museum. This had a number of displays of native arts and daily life. At the ticket counter, I noted that those 60+ paid a lower entry rate. Yes, I’ve now had my first senior citizen’s discount.

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‍I walked back to the town and dipped into several stores. As might be expected, there was a lot of sameness to the souvenirs on offer. I checked out some ammolite jewellery, and was pleased that I saw nothing I liked as much as the ring I’d bought in Jasper.

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‍Banff has a distillery, which produces various spirits including rye whiskey. I took a seat outside and ordered single shots of the two they distil, one which is finished in maple casks. Both were a bit raw for me, and the maple one also a bit too sweet. I decided not to buy any bottles.

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‍I caught the bus back to my hotel, and had time to pay off my mortgage from the lump sum. The app congratulated me on being mortgage free and thanked me ‘for making us part of your housing journey.’ 

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‍I’d booked to have dinner at the hotel’s well-regarded restaurant. The staff knew it was my birthday, and I was told I could have either a free glass of prosecco or a free dessert. I chose the former. My meal was BBQ wild boar ribs, and I had a glass of red wine with the meal.

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‍As I was finishing, two women were shown to the table next to mine. Both are retired, and were having a few days away together, mostly spent shopping. Calgary was their next destination, as it had stores their home town of Edmonton lacked.

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‍I booked a 5.30am wake-up call and returned to my room to pack, ready for the next stage of my adventure. 

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‍24 September

‍

‍Coffee helped blunt the early hour at which I rose. I left my room around 6.30am, and made my way down a dark street so that I could pull my case rather than try to carry it down multiple steps. Cold symptoms had pretty much disappeared.

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‍The coach from the Rocky Mountaineer arrived just before 7am. I was given a rather nice Rocky Mountaineer pin, my boarding pass, and tags for my luggage. We collected people from several more hotels before heading down to the train station.

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‍VIA Rail had the original idea of ‘Canadian Rockies by Daylight’. Taking VIA rail to Vancouver means not seeing much of the dramatic scenery, as one would go through at night, so a separate scheduled service was put into place. In 1990 the operation was auctioned off and a businessman bought the Rocky Mountaineer name, passenger business, and railway coaches. 

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‍Goldleaf was introduced in 1995, the class I was taking. Steps lead up to the bottom section, which features a dining room, toilets, and an outdoor area. Upstairs is the dome area, with panoramic glass windows. I made my way to my two seats (one meant for my friend) and made myself comfortable.

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‍Shortly after setting off, we were summoned for breakfast. I shared a table with a family of three, parents plus their adult daughter. Daughter was to attend a conference in Vancouver, and the family had decided to travel on the train together. Of the various breakfast options, I chose the smoked salmon and avocado on sourdough bread.

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‍All drinks were included, with a long list of alcoholic possibilities. We were regularly asked if we wanted anything. I decided to have an early glass of sparkling wine. 

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‍We stopped to collect more passengers at Lake Louise. They had their breakfast after boarding, and were also on the second sitting for lunch. 

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‍Much to my excitement, we actually went through the spiral tunnels. It was hard to visualise exactly what we were doing, although our hosts did their best to explain the engineering marvel. 

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‍I sat with the same family for lunch. Lunch was a sharing platter of bread, meat, and cheese as a starter. I ordered the steak for my main course, and cheesecake for my dessert. The Canadian shiraz was very drinkable. I might have to revise my (low) opinion of Canadian red wines. 

‍

‍We left the Rockies behind and entered British Columbia. The mountains were less dramatic and the countryside more rolling. The rivers were filled with sockeye salmon, who were bright red as they spawned. Sockeye spend most of their lives in the Pacific Ocean, during which time they are silvery with blue-green backs. When they return to freshwater, hormonal changes make their bodies red. The fish can swim hundreds of kilometres upstream, often returning close to where they themselves had hatched. Once the female has released her eggs, and the male has fertilised them, the fish die. 

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‍The skies clouded over as we continued. I ventured downstairs to the outdoor platform to admire the views and to take photos of the engine as she followed the curved railway track. 

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‍In addition to bringing drinks and snacks, our hosts explained the areas which we were travelling through and did their best to point out any wildlife. We spotted a couple of bald eagles and supposedly there was a bear, but we struggled to see him. 

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‍As ever, freight trains took priority. We regularly slowed down and occasionally stopped, but our travel didn’t seem as affected as on my earlier train journeys.  

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‍Delicious, freshly baked cheese scones were offered in the afternoon. Night fell, and towns were now lit up as we passed through. We also had to change our clocks, as we’d entered another time zone.

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‍We pulled into Kamloops at 7.45pm. Our hosts handed out our hotel room keys. Our luggage had been sent on ahead by road and would be in our hotel rooms when we arrived. We boarded numbered coaches and around fifteen minutes later arrived at our overnight accommodation. My case was indeed waiting for me, but it did feel odd not to be sleeping on the train.

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‍25 September

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‍I booked a wake-up call for 6am, ready to report back to a coach for 7.10am collection. We’d been told to leave our main cases in our rooms, as staff from the Rocky Mountaineer would collect and load them. After a lifetime of taking my case with me, it was hard to not wheel it away with me.

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‍Rain was falling as we drove back to the train station. I still posed for a photo in front of the flags attached to the outside of our car. Back to the same seat, once again missing my friend who should have been next to me. 

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‍The day’s journey took us from Kamloops to Vancouver. We skirted Kamloops Lake for quite some time, nearly 25km. Overnight, a train from a different Rocky Mountaineer route had arrived in Kamloops, and their coaches had been attached to ours for the onward journey. Our car was now midway down the train, which meant we could admire the coaches going around the bends.

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‍Ironically, the rain fell heaviest when we were in what is normally the driest area of Canada, namely the Okanagan region. Only 300mm of rain falls here annually, and the landscape is semi-arid, sand and shrubs. Temperatures can reach above 40°C.

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‍We then started paralleling the Thompson River, with views down into the Thompson Canyon. People kayak the dramatically named rapids, such as Devil’s Gorge, Cutting Board, and Jaws of Death. We saw a number of kayaks on the water.

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‍Today I was on the second seating for breakfast and lunch. So I didn’t have the former until 9am, and the latter until 3pm. Again the food was good, and wine flowed freely. The pinot noir I chose to go with my pork shoulder was drier than I’d expected and very drinkable. Perhaps I do need to revise my opinion of Canadian red wines.

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‍The couple I sat with for lunch had, like me, taken the three night train trip from Toronto to Jasper. However, their journey had been badly delayed and they’d arrived at Jasper twelve hours late, 6.30pm instead of 6.30am. Their intention had been to rent a car and spend the day driving between Jasper and Banff, taking in the sights, before boarding the Rocky Mountaineer the next day. Instead, they still had to use the car to travel between the two towns, but of course saw nothing of the area as they drove at night. I was beginning to understand the wisdom of the travel company I’d used, which had always given me buffer days between train journeys. 

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‍The rain dried up from time to time to give us snatches of sunshine. I was in the outside viewing area when a rainbow appeared. I also made sure I was there when we crossed over the canyon on the Cisco Bridge.

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‍Later on, the Thompson River joined the Fraser River. The rivers have two different colours, the Thompson clearer and blue-green, the Fraser muddy brown/grey. The Thompson is fed from Kamloops Lake, so sediment has been filtered out. The Fraser carries glacial silt. The two eventually mingle, but at the convergence the contrast can be clearly seen.

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‍The landscape changed again, to the forests of the Coast Mountains. Clouds clung to the trees, and in some areas autumn colours added bright yellows to contrast with the green fir trees. Then we were through the mountains, and on to the flatter Fraser valley. We saw various crops yet to be harvested, such as brassicas and what appeared to be a young fruit orchard. As ever, I admired the red wooden barns. 

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‍As we approached Vancouver, the towns became larger. We were now passing streets, housing areas, and industrial sites. 

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‍At 6pm we pulled into the Rocky Mountaineer’s station in Vancouver. It seems this was an early arrival for the train. As before, everything was well organised. Our cases were already on our assigned bus. Mine took people to two hotels. I collected my case, checked in, and took the lift to the 20th floor.

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‍My room was large, a seating area leading on to a small kitchen area (complete with three ring hob and microwave) and then a double queen bedroom. The window led out to views of nearby high rises. Quite a contrast to the landscapes I’d seen in the Rockies.

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‍26 September

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‍Finally a good night’s sleep. I haven’t had that many on this trip, probably due to the various changes in time zones and my (admittedly rather mild) cold. 

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‍This hotel provided a free breakfast for guests, a continental one of cereals, toast, fruit, hot and cold drinks, and yoghurt. 

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‍The morning started with a 9.30am pickup for a morning excursion. I joined a number of others on a coach for a quick tour of Vancouver. Our very cheerful guide pointed out areas of interest as we drove through the city.

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‍Our first stop was at Stanley Park. We had around half an hour to admire the totem poles and views back to the city, as well as plan any necessary comfort break. Our guide then drove us around the park, allowing us to take in just how large it is, a thousand acres. Various trees were turning red and orange with autumn colours. Although we did not disembark, our guide stopped briefly at places to point out the sights. So we admired Lions Gate Bridge, the Hollow Tree, and the great blue heron nesting colony.

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‍We drove on to Granville Island. This was created in 1916 by dredging False Creek, creating a human-made island of around 37 acres. Initially it was called ‘Industrial Island’ because businesses creating supplies for the logging, mining, and shipping industries filled the area. Although a concrete plant still operates in the area, most of buildings now house artist studios and restaurants, along with the Public Market.

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‍Our guide showed us how to walk to the Public Market and we then had ninety minutes to look around. I stopped to admire the enormous painted silos of the concrete plant, painted in 2014 by two Brazilian street-artists. The Public Market sold food, ranging from fruit and vegetables to cheeses, meat, and chocolate. 

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‍As I emerged, I heard my name being called. It was the woman and adult daughter I’d met on the Rocky Mountaineer. They were enjoying an outdoors lunch in the sunshine. We laughed about meeting up once again.

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‍I visited several stores offering local crafts before heading back to the bus. We were driven through Chinatown (the third largest in North America, behind New York and San Francisco) and Gastown. There we had the option to leave the coach, the tour now over, rather than be taken back to our hotels. And so I did.

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‍Rather hungry by this time, I went into the Steamworks Brewpub for lunch. The brewery uses Vancouver’s old underground steam system to heat its brewing kettles. This system was built in 1968 by Central Heat Distribution. Rather than buildings having their own boilers, a central boiler plant produces steam and sends it through fourteen kilometres of pipes beneath the streets. The plant supplies heat and hot water to around two hundred buildings in the area.

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‍I ordered a ‘flight’ of beers to have with lunch, four small portions of different ales. The stout was my favourite. I usually prefer dark beers to light. From my seat I could see a huge cruise ship at the docks. Vancouver is often used by ships taking passengers up the Inside Passage and to Alaska.

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‍After lunch, I wandered through the Gastown area. The first saloon was opened in 1867, by a chap from Yorkshire who had the nickname of ‘Gassy’ (Victorian slang for someone who talked a lot). The Canadian Pacific Railway chose the area as its Pacific terminus in the 1880s. Although a fire destroyed much of Vancouver in 1886, the town was quickly rebuilt. 

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‍I admired the old buildings and visited a number of stores. As ever, the souvenir stores were offering much of the same items. Craft stores were more interesting, but my wallet remained in my pocket. 

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‍At 4pm I stood with a large group of people waiting for the Steamclock to mark the hour. This was installed in 1977, and uses the underground steam system to run its whistle. At Victory Square, I was saddened to see a number of homeless people in the area, several under the influence of some substance or another. 

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‍By 5pm I was back at my hotel, where I opened a window to allow fresh air in. Later in the afternoon, chanting drew my attention to the streets below. A group of people were marching and singing behind a banner as they made their way to the nearby stadium, supporters of the local football team, the Whitecaps. They sang their anthem, ‘Boundary Road’, lyrics set to the tune of John Denver’s ‘Take Me Home, Country Roads.’ An interesting way to end the day.

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‍27 September

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‍Another good night’s sleep. I had breakfast and packed my case. The hotel charged for storage (Canadian $2 for a large case, $1 for a small one), which I paid before heading out for Chinatown, using the bus to save my legs. Vancouver was living in the 21st century. Unlike Montreal, I was able to tap my UK credit card on a pad to pay for the bus fare.

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‍The temperatures had cooled but it was sunny. I walked the short distance to the Dr Sun Yat-Sen Chinese Garden. This was first opened to the public in 1986. Built in the Ming-Dynasty style, it was the first to have been built outside of China. 

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‍I paid the entrance fee and wandered inside. The garden consisted of rooms and open areas, following the principles of Feng shui and Taoism by striving for harmony and a balance of opposites. The ponds are still water in order to provide reflections (although turtles and fish provide occasional ripples) and delicate plants were placed near craggy rocks to deliberately show the contrast. There were few other visitors, so I was able to take in the quiet atmosphere.

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‍ChatGPT had been helpful in suggesting places for lunch. I wandered out and made my way through Chinatown. I did find the area rather disappointing. Perhaps because it was a Sunday, but many shops were closed. The area also featured many homeless people. Many seemed to be under the influence of either drugs or alcohol.

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‍The restaurant I chose was nearly full. I waited around ten minutes for a table for one (well, two, but just me). Several menus, written in both Chinese and English, were offered. I ordered the sweet and sour chicken and the fried rice, along with tea.

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‍The meal was good, but the portions were huge! The couple next to me said the same. They also only finished half of what was offered. The waitress said she could give me a box ‘to go’, but I declined, advising her that I was flying back to England that evening. 

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‍I visited the park which is near the garden before catching another bus back to the hotel. I retrieved my luggage and walked down to the nearest metro station. Again I able to use my UK credit card, tapping again to exit at the airport station.

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‍Although it was still more than four hours before my flight, Air Canada let me check in my case. I went through security and wandered through the terminal, stopping for a snack and to spend the last of my Canadian currency. 

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‍The flight took off on time, at 8.10pm and we landed on time at 1.30pm the next day in the UK. I managed to stay awake on the underground and train journey back to Northampton, where my kind neighbour collected me and took me home. Holiday over!