This is part of a retrospective series on our trip to see migrating polar bears in Canada in 2002.
November 7-9, 2002
At the Winnipeg Train Station, we hopped on the Via Rail Canada train with our group from John Steel Rail Tours with our regulation one-per-customer carry-on bags. We walked down the long, narrow corridor in search of Deluxe Sleeper Car E. Ruth and Ralph had booked the Regular Sleeper Car, and Chris had a Roomette. We were curious to see the difference. Frank and I had taken an overnight trip from Paris to Florence on our honeymoon, so my expectations for the Deluxe Sleeper Car were pretty low. This was good, because the Canadian VIA Rail met my low expectations.
Our Deluxe Sleeper Car was the size of a walk-in closet and consisted of two bunk beds that folded into a seat in the daytime. The bathroom that was the size of a rather cramped telephone booth. Superman would have a hard time changing in that one, I thought to myself. The bathroom gave a new meaning to the term term “water closet.” The sink folded down over the toilet, which was actually a pretty clever space-saving innovation, since you don’t normally use both at the same time.
We were next door to Ruth and Ralph, whose place looked amazingly similar to ours. The only difference we could discern was that we had a tiny, narrow metal closet by the bed that was about half the width of a high school gym locker. It was big enough to hang a shirt or two, but none of our bags would fit in there. Ruth looked in our room and said, “Hey, we don’t have a locker!”
I replied, “That’s what makes this room de-luxe! We paid extra for that locker! Worth every penny.”
The best part about the train accommodations was Chris’ Roomette. Chris had a small seat facing a toilet/sink combo that was only big enough for one person, unless the visitor sat on the toilet. The porter came to show her how to unfold the bed, and after the bed was unfolded, you could not use the potty. Luckily, Chris’ room was near the public bathroom/shower so any middle-of-the night potty crisis could be averted.
The other tricky thing about the Roomette was that after the bed was folded down, you could not stand up to close the door. So, I guess Chris had to either get dressed for bed in the public bathroom and race down the corridor in her nightie, or get dressed while sitting on the bed with the door closed. After the door was closed, there was no room to stand on either side of the bed, so she had to get in bed from the hall and kneel on the bed to close the door. It was challenging, to say the least.
After checking out our rooms and figuring out where to stow our bags so we wouldn't end up sleeping on them, we converged in the Dining Car, and Chris told us about the Roomette and all its glory. While she was there, John the Tour Guy came by and casually mentioned that he had the Roomette across from hers. He joked that this could be “convenient” since they were both traveling alone. Ralph chimed in, “What happens on the train, stays on the train!”
We all burst out laughing. John blushed, backed away, and probably made a mental note to stay away from our crowd. That became our mantra for the entire two days on the train, whenever something funny happened.
After a drink in the dining car, we retired to our respective luxury accommodations and settled in for the night. I slept in the top bunk and Frank and Alexander took the lower berth. Frank was not happy that the lower bunk was tilted to one side, causing both of them to roll toward the floor. Alexander decided that the tilted lower berth was not comfortable, so he laid down on the floor with his favorite baby blanket, “Becky” and a pillow. Sometime in the night, he got up and went back to sleep with Frank. I think the floor was too warm, and it got to him.I was really excited about the trip and loved the swaying and rocking of the train. There is something both romantic and a little scary about traveling through the night on a train. I half expected a midnight scream from a roomette down the hall, signifying a crime was afoot. Maybe I’ve read too many Agatha Christie novels in my time.
I couldn’t sleep and kept looking out the window, hoping to see the famous Northern Lights. All I could see was blackness and my own reflection. I had my own little reading light, so I tried reading for a while. The top bunk had a safety net attached to the ceiling and the side of the bed, and I wondered why, since we did not seem to be moving all that fast. After I had finally fallen asleep, the train made an abrupt stop, probably to avoid hitting some animal on the tracks, or maybe the engineer was bored and wanted to mess with us. At any rate, I found myself hurtling into the net and grabbing it for dear life. I felt like a tuna caught in a fishing net, en route to becoming sushi. At least I knew it could hold my weight. I rolled back onto the bed and went back to sleep to the rocking of the train.
Dawn rose slowly over the Canadian wilderness, and the train chugged steadily onward. The landscape started to change from fall colors to evergreens. We got up early and had breakfast in the dining car. While we were eating, we passed the Saskatchewan border for a brief time, then passed back to Manitoba. Frank was happy that he could Saskatchewan to his list of Canadian provinces visited. We made our first real stop at The Pas, a tiny town about halfway to Churchill. A local man brought a group of beautiful husky dogs to meet the train. I thought he was going to board the train, but evidently he just shows up at the train station with the dogs to show off for the tourists. The people in the tour group loved the dogs, and we all happily snapped pictures. I guess we were starved for entertainment by then.
After stopping in The Pas, John called a meeting of our group. The first train car was empty, so our group took it over. John gave us some general information about the tour, and coaxed the group into playing “Name that Tune.” He had a boombox with a game CD in it, so we all tried to guess the name of the songs. He was very enthusiastic, but it took the crowd a little time to warm up.
After the meeting, we stopped for a bit in Thomson. Ruth and Ralph were adventurous and hiked about a mile into town to get snacks. We stayed close to the train and decided not to risk getting stuck in Thomson, since none of us had any clue where we were or how we'd ever get out of there if we got left behind. Ruth and Ralph made it back in time to board and said the town was further away than they had expected. At this point, the train started to fill up with local people. At dinner, there were quite a few more locals and the dining car was more crowded than at breakfast.
After dinner, I got a reprieve from Mom duty and got to go back to the Deluxe Sleeper Car to read for a bit. Ruth, Ralph, Frank, and Chris took Alexander to the dining car. After twenty minutes, Ralph knocked on the door. He was standing there, holding Alexander under the arm pits, like a puppy who had just peed on the rug. Ralph said, “He can’t lie down on the floor while they are trying to serve food. They said he had to leave.”
Alexander yelled, “Go away!” to Ralph while kicking his legs wildly, attempting to take Ralph down.
He handed the kicking, screaming boy to me and turned and left. This did not bode well for the rest of the trip, getting kicked out of the dining car on the second night. I resorted to the DVD player to settle him down.
Alex took a shine to the "Thomas and Friends" DVD we brought along, and insisted on playing it over and over again. Chris and Ruth took on the names "Toby" and "Percy" to get into the swing of it, and none of us could get the song "Rockin' on the Railroad" out of our heads for the entire trip. Curse you, Thomas the Tank Engine! I started to root for Diesel 10 and his evil sidekicks to eat Thomas after about ten viewings of the two DVDs we brought along.
Along the way, day turned to dusk and I could see the light changing out the window. The sunset over the northern pines was quite beautiful, and the gently rocking of the train settled us all in for the night. When darkness finally fell, we looked for the Northern Lights. Frank swore up and down that the grayish mist on the horizon was, in fact, Northern Lights, but I held to my steadfast belief that it had to be more than that. What I saw looked like fog. I was not impressed. I’ve seen wimpy California lightning that was more interesting than that. We settled into our bunks and I kept straining my eyes out the window, hoping for a glimpse of the Northern Lights, but went to sleep disappointed.
The next morning, we woke up late and moseyed down to the dining car for breakfast. We sat with a local Churchill man on his way home, who pointed out animal tracks in the snow. He told us stories of snowmobiling and hunting in Churchill. It was good to know that people actually enjoyed living there, something that was kind of a mystery to me, given the harsh conditions.
Sometime during the night, the landscape outside changed from pine forests and plains to snow-covered tundra with a few scraggly dead trees. We were barreling on toward the Arctic Circle.
