Winnipeg International Airport

APOLOGIES - ULTRA LONG POST

01:50
23:45 comes and goes. Meh. I’m tired enough to sleep, but I want to experience the train departing. I pour myself another glass of wine. I pass the time reading, writing, and indulging in some beard play. I could do with a beard glow-up, but I’ll wait till i’m home. We FINALLY get underway around 01:30. Why, I’m not sure. I’ll ask Tony in the morning I guess. We crawl, everso very slowly out of the city. I check my GPS speedometer, and we peak at around 30km/h. It’s 2000km to Toronto, and the journey’s gonna take around 40 hours or thereabouts, so it’s hardly gonna be a speed-fest. Aaaaaaaaand - we’ve stopped. We’ve travelled perhaps 8km from downtown Winnipeg. I’m not 100% convinced you could say we’ve actually left the city yet. This should be fun.

02:20
Ok - now I’m determined to see for how long we’re stopped. At around 02:15, a goods train starts heading past us. Here in the city, there are two tracks running parallel. Further down the the track, there’s a single set of tracks. We’re clearly pulled over to let this train past. At 02:20, it’s still going past us. I Google the length of goods trains in Canada. Apparently, they can be up to 4km long, and that’s just crazy.

02:23
Still going.

02:24
Wow. It takes a full 9 minutes to pass us. I assume this means we’ll soon be underway again, and am determined to wait up to see it happen. This could be a long night.

02:55
Nope. Not moving yet. Half expected another goods train to trundle past. I’m determined not to sleep until we’re out of Winnipeg.

03:20
Aaaaaaaaand, we’re off! Let’s see how far we make it this time…

09:00
I sleep for about 3 1/2 hours. We stop at a few stations along the way. I’d worried these stops would wake me, but nope - out for the count. I only wake because I’m busting for a pee. Now - there’s a shared bathroom in the carriage. I put my shoes on, and briefly look for it. I can’t find it. At least - not easily. It’s fully dark out, and the carriage is poorly lit while people sleep. I have a toilet in my cabin, but to get to it, I need to put the Murphy bed away. By the time I’ve done that, I’m fairly awake, so decide to get up, and crack on with the day.

The light’s starting to creep over the horizon, and I can see we’re in the middle of a huge forest. It’s beautiful. No - it’s several steps up from beautiful. It’s desolate, sure - but bleak in the coolest kind of way. The cell coverage is very patchy. Hardly surprising, given we’re basically in the middle of a frozen expanse. When I do get a signal briefly, I can see that we’ve made good progress overnight. We left Winnipeg around 2 hours late, and then spent a further 90 minutes sat on the outskirts of the city before really getting underway. We’ve made up *some* of that time, and are currently running about 2 1/2 hours behind schedule. The train manager seems confident we’ll make up additional time on our way to Toronto.

I head towards the dining car for some coffee. Despite not eating much yesterday, I’m not particularly hungry, but I do want some caffeine. I take my cup to the observation car, and spend a brilliant half hour gazing out through the dome. It’s properly chilly up here, something about which I’m not at all disappointed. The train generally is kept warm. I have a fan in my cabin that helps moderate the temperature, but the chilliness of the observation car is welcome. There’s another observation car right at the end of the train, that I’ll check out later this morning, or this afternoon. I’ve got plenty of time…

Canada is properly bilingual, a result of its somewhat chequered colonial past. Prior to confederation in 1867, the colonies in Canada were split between the British and French empires. Putting aside their differences, the French and British colonies joined forces, politically and at times militarily to break free from the rule of their respective colonial masters. Quebec was a French colony, and remains largely Francophone to this day. Ontario, New Brunswick and Nova Scotia were Anglophone, and largely remain so today. As a result, every single sign in public is printed in both French and English. It was particularly noticeable in the Human Rights Museum yesterday, where even relatively simple exhibits seemed to take up much more space than felt entirely necessary. I’m not sure everyone in the country is necessarily bilingual. I’ve come across a bunch of folks working in service industries whose first language appears to be English, and while they speak French to a very high standard, it’s heavily accented. Likewise, my check-in dude at Winnipeg station last night, spoke English brilliantly, but with a heavy, French accent.

Oooh, we’re coming to a stop. Leg stretching opportunity. Well, more that there’s a blizzard outside, and I suspect the very freshest of fresh air…

15:40
Sioux Lookout was a tiny little town pretty much smack bang i the middle of nowhere. Few small stores, what looks like a tavern, and a tiny railway station. I step off the train for 5 minutes. The cold is a brutal. There’s a little cell coverage in the town, and i check the weather. Reckon’s it’s -10, and -18 with the wind chill. Brrrr…

We’re back to running around 4 hours behind schedule. Everyone seems very ok with this. The train manager also advises us that in crossing into Ontario, we’ve moved onto Eastern Time - an hour forward of Winnipeg, which suddenly makes it 11:00. My psychosomatic response to this is to feel hungry. Happily, the first lunch sitting is called at 11:30, and I make my way to the dining car. I’m seated with 3 other solo passengers. Mary-Beth is a kindly lady, I’d guess somewhere in her mid-70s, but would obviously never tell her that. David is kindly man, I’d guess somewhere around 70, but would obviously never tell him that. Ed is a kindly man, who is 67, because he told me. We do the usual who are you / where are you from stuff. The conversation is a little stilted at first, as you might expect from 4 strangers. Quickly enough though, we find our rhythm.

They’re all native Torontans (NB - I don’t know if this is the correct collective for the people of Toronto, but don’t have an internet connection to check. If I remember, I’ll come back and check it before I post this blog…) so I pick their brains on stuff to do and see while I’m in town. They tell me about the Summer wildfires that are increasingly common in these forests, and which earlier this year devastated Jasper, a major city in the Rockies. They advise me about the best way to visit Niagara from Toronto, and even recommend some wineries to visit in the region. And they tell me not to worry about the delay. It is what it is, and no amount of worrying is going to make the train move any faster. I’ve been doing some mental arithmetic while we’ve been eating. Given most of the 1 hour trains I’ve taken from Brighton to London have typically been delayed by between 15 and 20 minutes, a 4 hour delay on a 40 hour train ride isn’t entirely unreasonable.

Lunch is pleasant. A bowl of chicken and wild rice soup, and a tuna-melt open sandwich. I decline a glass of wine with my lunch. I’d love to tell you that it’s an early lunch, that the clock has just gone forward an hour and so my body clock thinks it’s 11:00 in the morning, but I think you can all see through my bullshit. The truth is that my three dining companions all say no to a drink, and I’m worried they’ll think I’m a stereotypical Brit booze hound if I dive in with gusto.* I also decline dessert, and head back to my berth. My lack of sleep is catching up with me, and I’m gonna have me one hell of a nap.

I wake at 15:30, having slept for close to 2 hours. BOOYA. We’re stopped, and I don’t know how long we’ve been stationary. Momentarily, another goods train starts to pass us. I don’t know if this one is shorter than last night’s or perhaps moving at higher speed. Either way, it’s a 6.5 minute train, compared to last night’s 9.

Writing this though, it’s pushing towards 16:00, and that means I can head to the bar car, and treat myself to a beer.

19:10
The bar is in the very last car of the train, and is combined with a plush seating area, and an observation dome. I fancy a glass of wine, and am offered a choice of 4 reds, 4 whites and a rosé. Amongst the whites, there are two Chardonnays. I opt for the richer and oakier of the two, and it’s delicious. In the lounge area, there’s a guy playing his guitar and singing folksy/blues type stuff. He’s really good. I’m unsure at first whether he’s a passenger just entertaining some of his fellow travellers, or laid on by the train company. It transpires to be the latter. I spend a joyful half hour with my wine and some great music, all while the frozen forest continues to sweep past at some pace. There’s another show later in the ‘activity’ car at 20:00, which I’ll try and make it to as well. I grab another glass of wine, and read my book for an hour. I overhear a nearby couple talking about a recent trip to Europe, and describing how brilliant they found the trains in France and Italy. They loved the speed of the services - which in both countries run as fast as 200mph. On this journey, I think our top speed is gonna be around 60mph, and we’ll average around 30. I’ve got tons of experience travelling on these super fast European trains, and even on their somewhat less than super fast British equivalents. In a parallel universe, this same couple are overhearing me talking about how much I love the slower form of travel, the collegiate atmosphere on board, and the coolness of the compartments for each passenger. Maybe it’s a grass/greener type situation, or maybe they’re just more that way minded, and me more this.

I’m at the 1st dinner sitting. I’m seated with Ed, from lunch, and with a very friendly couple from the Philippines. Their English is vastly superior to my Tagalog, but I do struggle to understand them at times. The dining car is pretty noisy, and the train is making quite a racket as we’re moving quickly. I do my best, but I’m conscious on a couple of occasions I’m smiling and nodding, and just hoping I haven’t been asked a question. Ed and I talk skiing. He’s in his mid to late 60s, but still tries to ski 4-5 weeks per year. Like me, his knees don’t always thank him for it, but he’s keen not to give up his favourite winter sport.

Dinner is pretty good - a tasty tomato soup to start, and a well cooked and seasoned pork loin dish to follow. Once I again decline dessert, but am less parsimonious when it comes to the wine list. I have a really good glass of Pinot Noir, made somewhere on the Niagara peninsula. I’ve noted the name, should I pass near them on Sunday, when I head to the falls.

Throughout the day, I’ve just had this vague sense of being in the Agatha Christie novel, Murder on the Orient Express. I think it’s partly the opulence of the train, the dining car and so forth. It doesn’t hurt that we’re hurtling through this snowy landscape, so similar to the critical setting of the book. There’s even a slightly elderly, French speaking gentleman, with a broad, white moustache. I can’t tell if he’s Belgian, and I’m not going to ask - as I want to maintain the illusion. Zut alors!

Well fed, I repair to my berth. I have a fantastic bottle of Bobal that I picked up Winnipeg yesterday, and it’s calling to me…

23:00
I head to the activity car a little before 20:00, and grab a seat. I have a big beaker of wine with me. I tend to travel with a metal cup (with a sippy lid, obvs), and I’ve brought my own wine to listen to Loucanus’ (honestly, that’s his name) set. His setlist is completely different to the afternoon gig. There are more folks here for this evening’s gig as well, and some of them are quite lubricated. It becomes fairly robust. There’s talk of a pub quiz in the other observation car. I briefly consider joining in, but there’s also a 15 minute stop coming up, and I find that idea more attractive.

It’s (surprise, surprise) properly cold outside, and the snow is much deeper here - maybe 40-50cm? We’re bang in the middle of Ontario, which means we remain slap bang in the middle of nowhere.

I’ve been enjoying having very little mobile coverage on this journey. Don’t get me wrong, there are downsides as well. I wanted to download some TV episodes earlier. I tried at one of the rest-stops where I had a half decent 4G signal, but nothing doing. It’s no great shakes though. I’ve got plenty to watch, loads to read, and many with whom to chat. I’m conscious that the way I most frequently use the internet (and therefore, how I’m missing it most) is knowledge. It’s no great secret that my brain can be a little, I dunno - what’s the word, chaotic. As soon as i think of something, I want to know more about it, and i tend to turn to the web to fill any knowledge gaps. Sometimes it’s big stuff - how a country’s democracy works, the birth of jurisprudence, and many, many different aspects of history. Often though, it’s ephemera - why is an orange called an orange, but a lime isn’t called a green? If Ontario was a country, which other countries would it be bigger than (most of them). What are natives of Toronto called? I think I crave this knowledge more than I realise, and I’m aware that I do it to my own and Vick’s distraction at times. If we’re watching a TV show, and something jumps into my brain, I have to run after it, even if we’re still watching the TV show. Having even 24 hours without this kind of distraction has been a fun place to be.Read more