Canada 1989

Friday 7 July — Jasper to Edmonton

Today, a long lie until ten past seven, before packing and setting out about nine to walk back to Jasper for the last time. Others were trying to cadge lifts but I’m a hard man, ha ha, and made a fast trip despite my load, only about an hour. The weather was a bit threatening but nothing materialised. I bought some T-shirts while waiting for the train, which, for once, arrived on time. 6400 and 6610 hauled a steam generator, baggage car, two coach cars, Skyline car and three sleepers plus two sleepers, bar/diner, coach car, baggage/roomettes and steam generator to be left to form the Skeena for Prince Rupert. The steam generator that was left last night is a standby.

We left on time. I sat with Pat, Jennifer and a Danish girl from the hostel. We lost time over the track maintenance section again and were just over half an hour late at Edmonton, after a three minute stop about a mile before the station for, as far as I could see, the engine-man to chat to a man with a collie dog.

I walked to the hostel with Pat and Jennifer, booked in, dumped my gear and went out for a walk, a burger and some provisions. It started to rain just before I got back, I went to bed.

Saturday 8 July — Edmonton

In the morning, it wasn’t quite raining but it wasn’t quite dry. I spent most of the day wandering through the “PedWay”, a connected series of shopping malls with over-bridges between, rather than the tunnels that they have in Toronto. Lunch at a Japanese place in a food court - teriyaki steak and mixed veg with rice. A few beers in the Grand Tavern, wandered around a bit more, got wet feet as it was definitely raining by then, and returned to the hostel to drink tea and assist John, an Australian, to demolish a quantity of spaghetti and meatballs which he judged to be excessive for one person. Wendy turned up from Jasper.

Sunday 9 July — Fort Edmonton

In the morning, there was no rain but it was rather cool. I decided that it was walking weather and headed towards the North Saskatchewan River, which runs in a tree-full valley just to the south of the city centre. There was a footbridge across the river not far from the point where I reached the bank, so I crossed, walking carefully on the frosted planking. I followed the river upstream through a series of connected parks where the track varied from good to glaur, at places incorporated into the urban cycleway and at one point, hijacked by the construction traffic for the new bridge which will carry the LRT extension out to the University.

Eventually, I reached Fort Edmonton Park and, without really intending it, found myself inside through a side gate, saving $4.75. The Fort itself is a reconstruction of an important Hudson Bay trading post, complete with piper while I was there. It is set in an extensive park which offers a number of attractions to help draw the tourists. A small train runs around the site, the engine built by Baldwin of Pennsylvania, a tramway runs through three reconstructed period streets, wagon rides are available and there is a garden centre and a gift shop. For lunch, a buffalo burger, a bit tougher than beef.

Trams were withdrawn in Edmonton in 1951 but there is a preservation society based at the park with No 42 running, No 1 under repair, plus a couple of others being restored, a snow sweeper, the German tram that was used to evaluate the LRT proposal and an old Toronto tram, retired only six weeks before, which they had acquired at a very attractive price.

As it was getting a bit cloudy, I decided to take the bus back into town, a wise decision as there was a short sharp shower while I was on it. Back at the hostel, I had a pot of tea before going out for a walk and a baked potato, then an early night.

Monday 10 July — Edmonton to ...

Despite sleeping in in the morning, not waking until twenty past seven, I still managed to be first up. A leisurely breakfast and pleasant conversation with Wendy (Eltham), John (Melbourne) and Christine (Gisborne). Everyone seemed amused when I donned my yellow cape and raised my umbrella for the walk to the station. I walked with Wendy, others took a taxis! Checked in my pack at the railway station, through to Winnipeg, then walked over to see the others off on the bus to Calgary.

Still raining. I bought a couple of packets of Erinmore in The Bay, they don’t stock Condor, then had some lunch before finding the Sherlock Holmes pub which stocks Tennents Lager, Tartan Bitter and John Smiths and Castle Eden real ales amongst other things. I had a couple of pints of reasonable Traditional Ale from the Big Rock Brewery, Calgary.

By now the rain was off so I went up to view the town from Vista 33 on the 33rd floor of the Alberta Government Telephones building where they also have a telecom museum. Then along to admire the Alberta Provincial Legislative Building and its surrounding park.

When I returned to the station, in good time for the train, I discovered that it would be forty minutes late so I decided to wait in a pub but it was raining again so I stood and watched the rain for a while. By the time the rain went off, the train would now be fifty minutes late, so I did go for a pint.

Ultimately, the train departed sixty-five minutes late. I sat near the conductor and overheard his radio conversations. Two passengers had got off at Edmonton but their luggage had not. Apparently, they had boarded at a station which does not have a checked baggage facility but a trainman put their luggage aboard for them. They assumed that this made it checked baggage and someone would unload it for them at their destination. Not so. The conductor identified their baggage and we were diverted into a siding on the edge of town to wait for a taxi coming to collect it. That took twenty-five minutes but it was another half an hour before we got going again. Providing a service is one thing but holding up the whole train for an hour, for a couple of daft passengers, is a bit over the odds.

A few days earlier, I had been told a story of a business deal that fell through because one of the participants travelled by train and was late. My instinctive reaction was that I wouldn’t employ anyone who relied on VIA Rail to get them anywhere on time. The girl sitting in front of me now was on her way to a job interview in Winnipeg at eleven next morning, having reached the short list from an initial five hundred applicants. It was difficult to make a suitably sympathetic response. I did not believe the guard who said that we would make up an hour.

Tea and a cheese sandwich for tea. Two and a quarter hours late at Saskatoon.

Tuesday 11 July — ... Winnipeg

No further excitement. We didn’t make up an hour but reached Winnipeg at a quarter to twelve instead of five to nine. I left my pack in a locker and wandered down river (north) a couple of bridges before crossing and returning on the far side to St Bonniface. Back across for a couple of beers before picking up my pack and heading for the hostel to book in for two nights. For tea, I bought some milk, tinned herrings and tropical fruit salad before doing my laundry. The hostel was fairly full, including Ewan from Partick who was cycling across Canada, and another chap from Orkney. They were the first Scots I met in hostels.

There was much thunder and lightning in the night.

Wednesday 12 July — Winnipeg

The storm of the night had vanished when I got up for a pot of tea and conversation, and a sunny day was in prospect. I wanted a map of the terrain around Churchill. Bill the warden suggested the Global Village map shop south of the Assiniboine on Pembina Highway so I headed vaguely in that direction, meandering through leafy suburbia and watching freight trains on the main line west. The map shop didn’t have what I wanted, but I’d had a pleasant walk and cut over to the Red River bank to continue through Churchill Park and past the allotments back towards the city centre. It was pretty warm by now and I was pleased to spot a beverage room just before I reached the Assiniboine. When I emerged from there, I crossed the river and sat smoking awhile in the park behind the Provincial Legislature.

I returned to the hostel, following the river bank until the path vanished, for a pot of tea and a shower, before going out for a walk and a pizza for supper. A Caesar’s Salad is some sort of lettuce sprinkled with parmesan cheese and croutons. Watched a bit of the news on TV before turning in.

Thursday 13 July — Winnipeg to ...

Time to move on again. Packed my bags and left the pack in a locker at the railway station, as the Capreol train doesn’t leave till six. Headed back towards where something was going to happen in the park across the road from the Provincial Legislature. I watched a council worker cleaning the nozzles of the fountains until the something started, turning out to be some sort of food fair with stalls set up by various restaurants in the town. Admission was free but not the food. I was not hungry.

I wandered up through the shopping malls in the direction of the Civic Centre. Since it was getting a bit warm again, I went in to the Museum of Man and Nature. Well laid out and very interesting. A small “cinema” in the urban section was showing Charlie Chaplin in “The Champ” so I watched that.

When I emerged, it was time to head for the station, sort out what I needed for the night and check in the rest for Capreol. A cup of tea while waiting for the train which turned out to be a bit different in make-up this time, with 6307 hauling a baggage car, one sleeper (in which I seemed to be the only occupant) and three coach cars, one with a small snack bar. No steam generator so presumably the generator on the engine was being used. Left on time but lots of stops to pick up and set down at isolated spots on the way and we were half an hour late at Minaki, where I saw a couple of blue? herons, one either side of the station. A lineside wood mill had a kiln alight, a weird sight in the dark with fire showing through the slatted sides, and bright embers and ruddy smoke pouring from the top. There was a substantial station building at Sioux Lookout at midnight.

Friday 14 July — ... Sudbury

On time at Nakina, after which I got up. Tea and cheese sarnie for breakfast. At Hornepayne, the train stopped just before the station to refuel so I got out and walked forward into the station. The original building is condemned, with signs “Danger - Keep Out” and has been replaced with a portacabin. We left more or less on time and I had a double cheeseburger and tea for lunch, not much choice from the snack bar. The pattern of stops at remote spots continued, servicing lonely huntin’, shootin’ and fishin’ camps and I noticed old concrete water towers still standing at “major” stations. As the afternoon wore on, it got a bit misty and the sun turned red.

We arrived a few minutes early at Capreol. I picked up my pack and walked up the main street considering the hotels and motel. Then I inspected a bus timetable and decided to move on to Sudbury. Overheard a conversation on the bus which attributed the mist to forest fires in northern Quebec, but I never did hear confirmation of that, whereas there were serious fires in northern Manitoba starting about that time.

On arrival at Sudbury, I made one of my more stupid attempts to find accommodation, setting off in a random direction in the expectation that I would eventually encounter the hostel. Elm St was crossed by various trees so I continued for a while but never came across Douglas. So I asked, and although they weren’t sure, they pointed me in the right direction and I found the address I was looking for. Unfortunately it was no longer the hostel, but there was a notice giving the new address on Cedar St. I was sure that I had crossed it on my perambulation so backtracked, without success. I asked again, and at last, there it was, about four hundred yards from where I had got off the bus two hours before.

I got a bed OK, a refusal would have been most upsetting. Went out for a bite to eat but settled for milk. Back at the hostel, every bed was taken.

Saturday 15 July — Sudbury

In the morning, I ambled through the shopping centre, bought some film and had a good lunch in the Green Leaf, avoiding the quiche. The weather was still a bit smoky, but warm. Walked out to Science North, a museum complex on Ramsey Lake. Decided not to go into the museum but did take the cruise on the lake, very pleasant thought the boat was just a modern launch.

Back in town, I found a bar called “the Playpen”, five different dancers, some better than others. There seems to be a rule here against total nudity as the girls put their tops back on when they took their bottoms off. Dropped into another pub, Mary’s bar, a bit of a dive, I reckon the dancer here was a barmaid augmenting her regular earnings. Totally un-titilating, she kept stopping to chat to the regulars. I talked to a lad from Zambia who has friends in Musselburgh. About six people in the hostel that night, I talked to the warden who comes from the Middle East and is interested in football.

Sunday 16 July — Sudbury to Ottawa

Breakfast in Grandma Lee’s. Self service with one girl behind the counter to cook, make toast, dispense the tea and coffee and answer the telephone. Service was slow but no-one complained. Headed for the station, there was a bloodstain on the pavement outside Mary’s Bar. The train is expected to be nearly two and a half hours late so I went over to the park on Ramsey Lake and watched the locals relaxing around the beach for a while. Boring.

Back to the station, the train has lost another half an hour, but was even later when it eventually turned up at three thirty, hauled by a CPR loco 3049 in front of 6428 and 6632. Must have had engine trouble. The connection for Ottawa and Montreal was a baggage car, bar/diner and three day-nighters hauled by 6439. There was some confusion in the boarding, passengers off the Canadian were last on and groups had difficulty finding seats together. I managed to hang on to a double seat. Only the first sitting available for dinner, too early, so I settled for a cup of tea and a sandwich. We crossed the westbound Canadian, hauled by 6440. An uneventful trip, we gained a little time but were still over three hours late at Ottawa, nearly eleven o’clock.

I phoned the hostel, they did have room and were open until one in the morning so I caught a bus into town and booked in, then went for a walk to smoke my pipe. The chap in the office was from Toronto but emigrated from Glasgow as a child and was planning to spend a year in Scotland from September.

Monday 17 July — Ottawa

Shopping in The Bay for tobacco, I found some Condor at the pre-increase price. Smoking could be expensive, the exciseman here does not discriminate in favour of pipes and cigars. Then I walked up to Parliament in time to see the arrival of the “guard” for the changing thereof. A bit of a cheat. They don’t actually mount a guard, just bring up two sets and march about on the green. Ambled about the town a bit, found an “English” pub, the Mayflower II, and had a couple of pints of Tartan Special. Not terribly good, I suspect it was Tartan Bitter despite the barman’s assurance otherwise, but it made a change.

Most of the afternoon was spent watching the boats going through the locks on the Rideau Canal, built by the military to avoid going too close to the French in Quebec. All pleasure boats on the canal now, three lockfulls went up including one beauty called Aphia built in 1907 and maintained in beautiful condition. The locks are still manually operated “to preserve the historic appearance”, hard work for the staff including one girl. The lockmasters have to be bilingual as not all the boaties are. In winter, the canal freezes over and is used by folk skating to work.

Back to the hostel for a rest, it fairly takes it out of you, all this watching other people work. Out for a walk again, I found a bar with baseball on TV and learned another rule or two.

Tuesday 18 July — Ottawa

Across the Ottawa River is the city of Hull in Quebec province, the site of the new Museum of Civilisation. Stopped to take photographs of the back of Parliament Hill just before I crossed the bridge. At the museum, there was a significant queue so I decided to give it a miss and ambled in a leisurely manner through the town and up the river bank a bit, past the Chaudiere Falls, stopping to eat some more carrots for lunch in a park, before returning to the Ottawa side of the river. Couldn’t get a decent view of the Falls from anywhere.

For a change, I turned my back on the river and walked a distance through the town, out to the ring road and back. On my return to the hostel, I showered before going out in search of a meal. Picked a steak and seafood place called The Keg and managed to spend $40, but that included a preprandial Glenmorangie or two. I made it clear that I wanted the whisky with nothing in it, no ice, no water, no nothing but I still got a straw. I ordered the dry red Canadian house wine and it was fine, but when the bill came the price was wrong. It turned out that they had no dry red Canadian and so had substituted an imported wine. I expostulated that I was more interested in drinking Canadian wines than in dry red wines, and the bill was adjusted accordingly. The waiter’s brother played trials for Rangers and Manchester United.

Wandered around a bit more before returning to the hostel.

Wednesday 19 July — Ottawa

I seem to be having difficulty getting up in the morning these days and didn’t move until half past eight. Milk for breakfast. I didn’t have any on Monday, perhaps that’s why I was so wabbit.

Another fine day as I headed downstream a bit to where the Rideau River falls into the Ottawa at a mini hydro-electric station. I sat in the park for a while writing the last four days into this diary, then continued a bit further to a viewpoint from which one can look back up the Ottawa to Ottawa (and Hull). Back towards the city then a sharp left to follow the Rideau upstream through a mixture of park and undeveloped land to the vicinity of the railway station.

With a bit of effort, I managed to reach the station, despite the barrier created by various roadways, for tea and a cheeseburger in the buffet, then bought a ticket to Montreal for the following day, getting a $6.50 credit because the train from Sudbury to Ottawa was over three hours late. This was half of the $13 for the roomette from Winnipeg to Capreol which happened to be on the same ticket. There was a barber shop in the concourse with a very bored looking barber in it so I got my hair cut for a reasonable price.

The return to town along the canal bank was a pleasant walk, if a bit indirect. The siting of the station is not intended to encourage the locals to make casual use of its facilities. Time for a beer or two in a local pub, didn’t buy a pair of shorts, did buy a donair for supper, assembled cold then heated in a microwave but reasonable for all that.

Thursday 20 July — Ottawa to Montreal

The rush-hour bus to the station cost twice as much as the off-peak bus on Sunday evening. I had some breakfast at the station, then watched the queue for the Montreal train grow before joining it half an hour before the scheduled departure time and managed a double seat to myself. We left on time but, due to a signalling failure, ran slow between Maxville and Alexandria and lost half an hour which we never recovered. That will be another credit on my next ticket. The “complimentary light meal and beverage” turned out to be an orange juice and/or coffee.

The station at Montreal is in the bowels of the Queen Elizabeth Hotel. There are no lockers here, the Quebecois separatists planted a bomb in one a few years ago, but bona fide travellers can leave things at the baggage check-in desk for $1 per item. I wandered around a bit before going to the hostel and asking pour un lit pour le nuit. Most of the reply went over my head but I got the gist which was no. They gave me a map showing the location of the summer overflow hostel, previously a hospital, of which I had heard bad reports, and when I looked at it, I decided to try the YMCA. I booked a room for three nights at $29 per night. The room was on the 12th floor but not much of a view and some nearby buildings had noisy air conditioning plants on the roof. However, the room itself was comfortable with TV.

I set off for the station to recover my pack but, en route, dropped into an establishment called The Peel Pub after some lord, where Happy Hour extends from three till seven and the beer was the cheapest I’d come across at $4.50 for a 60floz jug. Food was cheap too, with fair sized pizzas for $1.99 but I wasn’t hungry. More English than French spoken in the pub. Back to the Y and pottered about for a while, half watching TV (Flying Doctors in French), then went for a walk up Mont Royal in the dark. I took a different route down and ended up with a long walk around the base of the hill before I got to my bed.

Friday 21 July — Montreal

Wasted most of the morning watching TV, I don’t know why. Wandered about on the Rue St Catherine West, then stopped for lunch. Headed back up Mont Royal, now that I could see where I was going, and it’s a lot warmer when the sun is shining, I was sweating like a pig by the time I got to the top and was reduced to buying a Coke at the Chalet, my first in Canada. Desperation indeed. The view from the summit was good, though not very clear. I wandered around the top for a while, finding the things I had missed last night like the illuminated cross (how did I miss that in the dark?) and the broadcasting mast which is a marvel of modern design with minimal bulk for maximum utility.

I returned to the town and into the Peel Pub for three pints this time, same price as a jug, and a very good Chef’s salad for $3. Back at the Y, I did this and that and watched TV for the rest of the evening.

Saturday 22 July — Montreal

Cathedral Marie-Reine-du-Monde

Breakfast in the Y cafeteria, almost all inclusive, just the orange juice was extra. My feet led me in the direction of Old Montreal, nice enough, before wandering around the old dock area which looked as if it had been a car park across from the Expo site on the Ile St Helene. The ferry is still running. The St Laurence runs pretty powerfully past here and I suspect most of the through shipping bypasses it (and the bridges) through the canal on the far side. As it was along way to any bridges, I didn’t get across to the island.

Stopped for a couple of beers in a taverne, poor service, perhaps it was my poor French, perhaps the barman was just an Anglophobe. As I hadn’t yet decided how to use my next Canrailpass, I went back to the railway station intending just to buy a ticket to Quebec, but the queue was excessive so I went for a beer instead in the Choo Choo bar, thinking the queue would disappear with the main evening departures around six o’clock. Got talking with a chap from New Brunswick, then with a girl from St John (also NB). She gave me her business card to get in touch if I had time to spare in St John. Very kind.

My logic proved correct and the queue had more or less gone when I emerged from the bar, but I suspected my diction was less than perfect and I could have problems if I had to speak French, so I went back to the Y for a shower. (It’s very warm here, in excess of thirty degrees and although they say the humidity is only 30%, it feels higher to me.) Looking for an evening’s entertainment, I found myself in an Irish pub. There was Guinness and Harp on tap, no Smithwicks, but the singer’s repertoire had been nowhere near the Emerald Isle. A lassie next to me at the bar told me there were real Irish pubs and offered to show me round, but I demurred, mainly because of shortage of money.

Sunday 23 July — Montreal

Frontage of the old CP Windsor Station now reduced to serving a single suburban line

Breakfast in the Y again, same as yesterday. I decided to book in for another night, no bother. It was pretty hot and sticky outside, I could raise no energy for anything and spent the morning and much of the afternoon watching the Open followed by motor racing from Toronto on TV. Ultimately, it was necessary to go out, I had to get train tickets sometime and I’d now worked out a timetable most of the way to Halifax.

On arriving at the station, behold, the queue was as long as yesterday. Don’t they know it’s Sunday? I went for a walk along Rue St Catherine East as far as St Denis, and there observed a couple of acts in the “just for laughs” street carnival. Reasonable mime, no language problems. Back at the station, queue gone so I booked tickets for next week starting from Quebec City, including the trip to Moosonee which cost extra as it is run by Ontario Northland rather than VIA Rail. Salad for tea, nice waitress. Back to more tele-watching and bed.