My Trans-Canada Rail Journey – Part 9
Anyone undertaking a rail journey — especially one of some 4,000-miles through areas of which much is still wilderness — soon begins to appreciate the massive infrastructure required to keep these trains moving: utility poles, wires, fences, switches, rails, wooden ties, bridges, storage sheds, trucks and much, much more. And all of it has to be brought in over great distances. Constant repairs and maintenance are being done. Every switch along this route is connected to a tank of propane gas which fires automatically and is used to prevent the switches from freezing in the winter.
Since leaving Toronto, the Canadian has had to wait several times on sidings for passing freights and it’s mid-day under grey skies when we arrive at Sioux Lookout, almost two hours behind schedule. With a population of just 3000 souls, this is nevertheless the largest community we’ve seen since leaving Sudbury 22 hours and 750 miles ago. Sioux Lookout is a refueling stop and, while the three locomotives are being serviced, passengers get out and stroll along the concrete platform. VIA Rail’s trains are all non-smoking, so this is an opportunity for the smokers among us to puff away.
As soon as we’re underway again, I head to lunch in the dining car where I’m seated with another middle-aged couple from Scotland. As I gaze out the window at the rolling prairie, I notice the white contrail of a westbound jet high above us, a white chalk mark across the azure sky. I point it out and we all smugly agree that we would much rather be down here than up there. The conversation over lunch is animated, interesting and cordial and by the end of the meal we have exchanged addresses and promises to call if we ever get to the other’s neck-of-the-woods.
The Canadian is racing along at just over 70 mph as we head for Winnipeg. The countryside has flattened out noticeably now and we’re beginning to see towering gain elevators for we’ve started across Canada’s vast breadbasket. Wheat, thousands of acres of it, extending to the horizon and beyond. Much of the grain from this area is shipped back east over these same tracks to Quebec, where it’s loaded on ships and sent to European destinations.
As we approach the Winnipeg station around 6:00 p.m., the Canadian rolls through a long arc passing the local baseball stadium where a Northern League game between the Winnipeg Goldeyes (that’s a popular food fish in these parts) and the Kansas City T-Bones has just ended. A large sign on the exterior stadium wall identifies the food concessionaire for the ballpark as Hu’s-on-First.
Winnipeg is a good-sized city with a population of almost 700,000. Three rivers converge here – the Red River the Assiniboine and the Seine – and for that reason this has been a gathering place for indigenous people long before the whites arrived. Winnipeg is as close as we’ll get to the U.S. border, which is about 100 miles to the south.
The Canadian is scheduled for an hour’s stop here and while we’re all stretching our legs, the locomotives are refueled, great quantities of food and drink restock the dining cars and lounges, and all the windows are washed. While that’s going on, many of the passengers visit The Forks Market just a hundred yards or so from the station. I come away from a 30-minute stroll through the sprawling treasure trove with a loaf of fresh bread, some local cheese, a bottle of wine and a full measure of guilt since I’m already dining very well indeed on the Canadian and all those excellent meals are included in my rail fare. Fear not. I shall persevere.