By Lucy

So there I was, seated in the station with all my worldly belongings.

Now what?

An attendant came by and noticed me looking lost. “The platform is closed from 8 to 9. And if you are boarding for the first time with us here, we don’t board until 9.”

Sounds good.

I sat around until 8:30. Another attendant came by with a phone, to scan the QR code on our tickets. She recognized me, “Oh, I saw you hop out of the blue truck, the one that died when it tried to leave.”

I blush. I had cracked a joke when me and Duff pulled up in the truck that someone was going to wonder about the girl who got out of what was obviously a farm truck. I didn’t think someone would actually ask me about it! Making friends already.

I was good to bring all my luggage aboard, which was good.

Then it was go time.

I realized the second problem with boarding at night; there was no one to explain what the eff was happening. I found my bunk – 2, upper – and was closely trailed by the elderly couple who were in the bunks opposite mine. Where do I put my bags? In a panic, I expertly flung them up into my bunk and clambered up the ladder quickly, to clear the narrow aisle.

“You’re ridden this train a lot, haven’t you?” The woman said.

“Nope, first time. But I’m used to hostels.” I replied with a grin.

Some people might complain about the top bunk – I’ve seen a few reviews complain that it doesn’t have a window – but I prefer it. When I was a kid, and until I moved out of my parents house, I actually had a loft bed. I prefer small, enclosed spaces. The bunk was actually surprisingly roomy, and could probably fit two people, about double bed sized, so having my bags with me was no issue. There was a small bag with 2 towels and some toiletries – making sure we shower – a net hammock, the length of the bed, for stashing things; 2 pillows; and a nice, thick comforter. Attached to the wall was a small mirror, and a little leather case for holding small objects (toothbrush, maybe?).

The bathroom was 2 steps away and surprisingly roomy. The curtains for the bottom bunk stayed closed until morning, so I didn’t meet my bunkmate until breakfast.

I went to the next car, which had the panorama windows. I waited half an hour so I could see some local scenery, but the train didn’t depart from Winnipeg for over an hour. I didn’t feel much like exploring, so I changed into my pajamas, brushed my teeth and tucked myself in.

I slept restlessly. The curtain does not fully block sound or light, so I woke up around 2 to wrestle my sleep mask out of my bag. None of the guests were noisy, but the train clanks and groans and rattles. It also stops and starts with a jostle.

I woke up to a Fitbit warning; “Your heartrate has fallen below 60 beats.”

Umm… ok? Am I dead?

Technically a heartrate below 60 beats is called bradycardia, and it can be a concern. However, it is pretty normal in people who are very fit, and since my health has not taken a nose dive but I have been doing 100 flights of stairs a day, I’m inclined to think this is my cardio improving.

It’s funny because when I was super fit in high school, I freaked out doctors all the time with stuff like this. Like the first time they put me on one of those scales that calculates your body fat, and my body fat percentage was lower than the level required to have your period. Yes, female athletes at the level of the Olympics often lose their period because they don’t have enough body fat for one, although my period never actually went away, so I guess I was just on the edge. Or when my doctor checked my blood pressure three times because she didn’t believe it was that low and I was still conscious (of course, post surgery, that is now a different story).

It took 3 nights before my Fitbit stopped freaking out about the fact my heartrate is now below 60 when I’m sleeping.

Because I have nothing to do but think, my brain turns to something else that’s been percolating. Now, everyone loves to harp on about the gut microbiome and kombucha these days, but the real interactions between your gut biome and the rest of your body are so varied and we’re still just beginning to discover them. Did you know they can both induce and treat depression with fecal transplants?

Now *ahem* TMI warning, but one thing I did notice three years ago is that I started feeling a lot better, physically and mentally, after I started sleeping with a co-worker. At the time I blamed it on the blush of passion and excitement of moving to a new city, but I did comment on finding it unusual – since I’m so unphased by normal things. I think… having repeated the experiment… that my microbiome is changing and improving from exposure to healthy scaffolder microbiomes.

And before anyone starts speculating on what the word ‘exposure’ means, I’d like to inform you that regular ol’ kissing causes you to share microbiota, so keep those theories to yourself!

Anywho, this train of thought (hah hah) was prompted by noticing that, after I started sleeping with Kyle, my body’s smell changed. I couldn’t tell you how, since I am noseblind, but the fact that I noticed it says something. Kyle has colonized me with something that’s causing me to feel more energetic and build muscle easier… like a blood transfusion from the Hulk.

So obviously the next step is to sleep with Dwayne The Rock Johnson or Jason Statham and my journey to bodybuilder will be complete.

Alright, enough weird contemplations. I need food.

My bunkmate had his curtain open. His name is Jakob and he’s a big-shot lawyer from Vienna, although that’s my words and not his. He spent the entire trip slumming it in a pair of black sweatpants and a black sweater that was very Gnostic. After he mentioned he’s a lawyer, I googled his name and that’s when I discovered he is actually a big deal! But he was very down-to-earth and chatty here.

I asked him for the direction of breakfast and he pointed. Not a morning person.

I discovered this late, but there was a layout to the train. We were the second or third of the “sleeper” cars. Closest to the engine of the train were the economy passengers, who don’t get dinner service or a bed, and we weren’t allowed there. Moving towards the caboose, there was another sleeper car, then the “lounge” car, that had couches, tables, and the window bubble. After that is the dining car, which was half kitchen, half dining room. After the dining car was the bar car, and then the hoity toity prestige sleeper cars, which we also weren’t allowed in.

In each of the sleeper cars, there was only about 6 bunks (that is to say, 3 sets of 2 bunks), and about 10 cabins, so there’s definitely limited capacity for those looking to be cheap about this.

The space was cramped, and that’s me saying that, so thin I disappear if I turn sideways. It was practically impossible to pass anyone on the straightaways, which turned into awkward shuffling around the corners. But then, people used to be thinner. I don’t think people really realize how much the average BMI has gone up, and how people my size or smaller used to be the norm. The train also swayed from side to side, like a boat, and when it was dark outside it was impossible not to feel like we were on the ocean.

I stopped in the lounge car, confused. They had some breakfast items laid out – muffins and fruit – and I thought this was it. I made myself a tea and a muffin and sat down for a bit. We stopped briefly at a small town with a pretty downtown core, complete with a Christmas tree.

Eventually I noticed everyone walking past me to another car, so I followed them and discovered the dining car!

At this point I still didn’t realize they kept the classes separate, so I thought I’d need to show them my ticket or something for breakfast, but it was ok.

For breakfast I had 2 eggs and some sausage.

Now, they have about 8 tables for the riffraff, and 4 tables for the upper crust, so there’s a lot of ‘hot-bunking’ in the dinning car. You don’t get a table to yourself, and if like me you are solo, you get shoved in wherever there is space.

I kind of like it. Without reliable access to the internet, everyone is forced to – gasp – socialize! I learned, as the trip went on, that most of the passengers are the same sort as me; passionate about the environment, travelling as a goal and not to reach a destination, interested in the sharing of new thoughts and ideas. However, it did also mean that if you ended up at a table with people you didn’t like, or who didn’t speak English, it was a very awkward meal.

The first people I was seated with were a couple. The man was raised in California and the woman was British, although they both lived in Vancouver now. Both of them are well-travelled and strongly recommended I visit Cambodia.

Around 9, it started to lighten up. We hit the border with Saskatchewan, at which point we started to head more northerly.

There were whispers across the train. Elizabeth May was a passenger. That seemed like such an odd coincidence I wondered what B list celebrity everyone was confusing her with.

I went back to my bunk to change out of my pajamas. The bunks had been converted into sofas, and my bag was now safely stashed under them, where it stayed for the rest of the trip.

I settled down in the lounge with a puzzle, which took me about 2 hours to complete it. I went for the smaller 300 piece puzzle; I wasn’t sure if the conductor would insist on the tables being cleared. They were playing the episode of Mighty Trains about the Canadian.

Most of it I knew already (thanks James), or just from being a history buff. There’s probably a lot of the history of trains written in blood, but the Trans-Canadian railway was definitely an exercise in “get it done at all costs”. At least one man died per mile of track, most of them underpaid immigrants. There’s about 2’700 miles of track, that’s easy math.

Of course, once the track was completed, everyone just kind of clapped their hands and went “looks good!”. Some of the train cars have been around since the 50’s, which is why they don’t have power outlets!

Around 10:30, we stopped in Saskatoon. I finished my puzzle and went to have a shower, but it turned out that they were emptying the toilet tanks and refilling the shower ones here, so I had to wait. My shower supplies got forgotten in the bunk, so I grabbed a new set, but now it was too close to lunch for a shower.

At this point I got to talk to Jakob a bit more. He’s fairly well travelled, for one who must have a busy work schedule… but then, I suppose Europeans start at 5 weeks of vacation. He even spent the better part of a year, in his youth, studying Japanese in Japan! He says Japan actually isn’t expensive because the value of the Yen is collapsing, so that’s good to hear. For me.

At noon the train finally left the station, and 12:30 I went for lunch. For lunch, I had the smoked meat sandwich, and the caramel cake for dessert, which was a carrot cake with a caramel sauce that was far too rich. I ended up seated with a baker from Halifax, and a French couple who get paid to teach French teachers. They just finished up a semester at Sherbrooke College.

I’ve been drinking lots of water; juice and tea are extra, except for the glasses that come with breakfast. And I definitely wasn’t paying for 20$ for a glass of wine.

So, there’s 3 calls for each meal. You’re technically supposed to claim a spot at the beginning of each day, but in practice, no one ever bothered checking the meal tickets. Presumably that’s more of a problem during the busy season. A fair few people on my train forget we were hitting a time change before dinner, and didn’t factor it in to their plans.

Passed a potash mine. I’ve become something of a tour guide, since more than half the passengers are not Canadian, so a lot of the things I’m used to seeing are new and exotic for them.

The conductor ran the length of the train to inform us the train was passing a moose.

Had a shower, then settled in at the one outlet I found to charge my phone.

At one point, when I was done but hadn’t moved on yet, some random dude in a suit started charging his phone off of my charger without saying boo to me. I’m not sure if he realized it was mine, but after five minutes he changed his mind and took off. Jakob later observed he’d had a Superbowl ring, and tried to engage him in conversation, but he wouldn’t talk to anyone. He got off in Edmonton. Weird.

We crossed the Prairies in stops and starts. We had to keep stopping for grain cars, but when we could go the train flew at 130 kilometers an hour, or 85mph.

Settled in for another puzzle. I’m becoming a bit of a celebrity, and part of it is that everyone thinks I’m 19 and going home to Vancouver. When I finally admit my age and what I do for a living (still thinking the UBC on my sweater is for University of British Columbia), they always ask when I’m going home, at which point I have to admit my plan is to circumnavigate the globe. They all find this terribly interesting! Personally, I still feel a little silly about it.

I also get a lot of compliments on my name, which I find baffling when no one should know that I picked it myself! Nonetheless, I am flattered. I chose well.

The sun went down, the usual Prairie sunset. Marty, the conductor/ entertainer, exclaimed, “I ordered this spectacular sunset, just for you!”

As I fussed over my second puzzle, an elderly gentleman stopped by my table. “Oh, UBC.”

“Wrong UBC. I’m a carpenter.” I said automatically. This is gonna keep happening, isn’t it?

“That’s really cool. What do you think of mass timber? Working with it?”

“Well, I’ve not had the pleasure of actually building with mass timber, but I can say that all of us in the union are really excited about it.”

We chat about mass timber for a bit. I invite him to sit with me and he accepts.

“You’re gonna do all of these before we arrive at Vancouver, aren’t you?” He says, about the puzzle.

I smiled wryly. “Yeah, yeah. You know, I never do puzzles at home. I memorize them after I’ve done them once, no replayability.”

“You do? My wife has something like that, highly superior autobiographical memory. Is there a name for what you have?”

A curse. “Oh yeah? I’m eiditic.”

“Yeah, she can recall things in parliament years later, in incredible detail.”

Parliament… My jaw drops open. “Wait, are you…?”

He smiles. “Yes, my wife is Elizabeth May.”

Oh my God! My heart falls into my socks as I start mentally going over everything I said for dorkiness. “If I may… ahem… sorry, I’m just such a huge fan.” I stammer, blushing.

“That’s ok, I’m a huge fan of her too!” He smiles wider.

It is true, though. When I was in grade 10, 15 years old, we had a federal election. I was so incensed that I couldn’t vote yet that I wrote everything for the Green party down on a poster and went around to tell my teachers they should vote for the Greens. That was when my science teacher was kind enough to explain that after “Rae days”, most teachers are die-hard Liberals. She did go on to be the first Green Party member elected to the House of Commons in that election.

I’ve gone away from the Greens, to be honest, and I’m not super proud of it. I see the NDP making more headway on a lot of the same issues, and it’s hard not to decide to go with the party more likely to win. Also, Elizabeth had stepped down as head of the Green Party and I didn’t realize she had gone back to it. She is 71, after all.

We chat for a bit longer, but then Marty starts up Bingo and John has to excuse himself as the commotion is too much for him.

Marty managed to convince me to play the last round of Bingo. He’s funny, he has no problem giving me my sarcasm back. I won the last round of Bingo while still working on my puzzle.

“Wow, what a flex.” He says, as I collect my prize, a Kitkat bar.

“Hey, I didn’t even want to play! You made me show off!” I blow a raspberry.

“Yeah yeah, hustler.”

The Discord chat was alive with discussions about Trump invading Venezuela. It wasn’t a surprise, and yet, it was hard to believe he’d actually done it. The whole “did it for the oil” thing amuses me to no end, because the price of crude is collapsing. The uptake of electric cars and energy generation not requiring fossil fuels means that we are using less and less each year, and production has outstripped demand. In Thunder Bay, the price of gas dipped below a buck a litre. Trump is stuck in some 1970’s version of the world where more oil means more money, but in today’s world, he’s just throwing good money after bad, chasing some version of supremacy that no longer exists.

Dinner was very late. We didn’t get seated until close to 7, which was 8 on Fort Frances time. A group gathered at another table to work on an extremely difficult puzzle, while I picked away at mine.

When we were finally called in for dinner, I passed Elizabeth May and her husband in the aisle. He stopped to introduce us, but I was woozy with hunger and there was a line-up behind us, so I shook her hand and excused myself.

Dinner, when we finally got it, was some pickerel, grilled to perfection. We had choices of cake, so I went with strawberry shortcake. The woman seated next to me was Australian, and didn’t seem to be enjoying Canada, and the couple across from me were from Victoria. They had a hobby farm they were very proud of. Both the women were a couple glasses deep of wine, and I was kind of itching to get away from the table. Dinner being so late had my guts twisting themselves into knots.

Immediately after dinner, I went back to my bunk to take some Tylenol and lay down while my guts sorted themselves out. This turned into me passing out early.

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I hate sleeping with aids. In addition to the sleep mask, I found a pair of ear plugs in the shower kit. Of course, nothing can prevent me from being jostled awake by the train lurching to a stop.

Where are we? My phone was out of service and couldn’t tell me.

I climbed out of bed. We’d dropped off everyone at Edmonton while I was sleeping, and the bunks opposite me stayed in the couch formation, so I sat down with my headphones and watched the ghost of trees go by. We were now on Mountain time, climbing steadily into the foothills of the Rockies. I sat up for close to an hour, before finally dosing myself with melatonin and Tylenol to get back to sleep.

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Day two on the train.

Because we were waking up in Jasper and they presumed everyone would get off the train, breakfast and lunch were changed. There was to be an “enhanced” continental breakfast, followed by an optional brunch between 9:30 and 12:30.

“Come on, we’re in Jasper!” I practically jumped on Jakob. “Let’s go explore!”

“Coffee, first.” He groaned.

For breakfast, we were seated with the Australian woman from dinner, Barbara, and an American train enthusiast from New Jersey named Steven. They agreed to accompany us on a tour of Jasper. We also went off on a rant about how disgusting American milk is. They don’t even have skim milk in Europe (and Australia) because it is such a travesty. Sure, let’s take all the good fat and nutrients out of milk and leave you with some white water, basically. I really miss the milk and cream from the dairy in Thunder Bay.

Went back to my bunk to change into layers. Like Winnipeg, the platform is closed between 8 and 9, so we can’t get back on the train during that time.

We lost Steven in the transition, so it just me, Jakob and Barbara loose on the streets of pre-dawn Jasper.

We ducked into the first touristy shop we saw. Jakob had some souvenirs he wanted to buy. I grabbed 3 postcards – 4, actually, I added one for my dad at the last minute. He’s turning into a Nervous Nelly, he’s upset I’m going overseas again. Apparently it’s dangerous.

Barbara decided she forgot something on the train and went back.

Me and Jakob walked down to the closest end of the touristy strip, then back again. Large swaths of the town are still being rebuilt after the devastating wildfire, a year and a half ago.

As we wandered back towards the station, Barbara had returned with Steven. We continued the wander together. The sun was finally starting to light up the sky, although the height of the mountains meant we got less than 6 hours of actual sunlight.

About half an hour later, we popped into a sporting good store to warm up. There, Barbara made the mistake of saying “ice hockey”, and both me and the store’s owner were scandalized. He responded by putting the Leafs on the big screen TV, while she told me they usually played hockey in a muddy field, like a bunch of heathens.

Then we stopped by a corner store and bought some iconic Canadian snacks for the foreigners. Hawkins cheesies, jerky (Barbara had never heard of it), and ketchup chips. Steven has ridden this train so many times, and knows so much about Canada, I keep forgetting he’s an American.

After that, we went around the corner and spent the next hour in a coffee shop, warming up and waiting until we could reembark.

It was funny when we got back to the station. The conductor scanned everyone else’s tickets, but just told me “I recognize you” and waved my phone away.

Lookee at me. Already a B list celebrity.

Oh, the mountains! Even more beautiful than the ones in New Zealand! The tallest peak, south of us, was Mount Robson, which, at almost 4’000 metres, was taller than even Aoraki. We were trundling along at a little over 1’000 meters and everything towered over us still. The treeline was probably around 2’000 meters here. This was the most scenic part of the ride; every corner was another stunning vista.

This was also the part of the journey with basically no cell service, not that anyone was complaining.

Marty came around with some mimosas. I’m not sure I’ve ever had a mimosa; I always figure I should stay away from eye-openers. But hey, why not? (Also, the cups were around the size of an egg) There was enough we all had a second round.

Marty did some etymology of Indigenous words and threatened to throw any Canadians who didn’t know the correct answers into the river. I gave him heck about the etymology of Nova Scotia and he said, “You must be Acadian. Those lot will never shut up about it!”

Turns out he’s from Winnipeg. He jokes that the Rocky mountains are named after his uncle Rocky, because he’s just so awesome, and that all the handsomest people are from Winnipeg.

Duff would love this guy.

As we passed Yellowhead Lake, I spotted a wolf watching the train go by. It’s wolf mating season, that’s why the full moon in January is called the Wolf Moon. Our Wolf Moon was the day I left Fort Frances, actually.

Around 11 I wandered downstairs for brunch. Which is just as well, because after I finished eating there was a rush. I went back to finish my second puzzle while everyone lined up in the lounge car for brunch.

Elizabeth May’s husband wandered by. He mentioned that she was really looking forward to talking to the carpenter with the eidetic memory.

Oh gosh.

I wandered back up to the bubble. Coincidentally, she was seated at the very back, opposite Jakob. I sat on the seat next to him, gathering my nerve. Grounding; why do I want to talk to her? What do I hope to gain, what do I hope to share?

She convinced her husband to sing a round of Stan Roger’s “The Northwest Passage”, which turned into all of us singing it, because that’s the hostel way!

Eventually I managed to psych myself up and talk to her. She was super nice, friendly, very personable. She even asked me for my email! She casually mentioned the last time she could afford enough time off work to take the train was August 2024, which makes it even more incredible that I managed to book the same train as her.

“I enjoy the train because it’s the only time I can ignore my phone.” She says, gesturing with her book.

Amen to that. A few people were still upset that I didn’t make plans to say goodbye to them, although I don’t really care what Eli thinks of me. Terry I feel slightly guilty about, but his life is a hot mess.

Marty came around with some canapes. Then he did a little speech about Canadian coins. There was a little joking about the fact that, when the poppy quarter came out, it was banned in the US in case it was spyware. Them wiley Canadians! Steven came to join us and we shared some more of our Canadian snacks, and Jakob shared some Viennese snacks.

We were stuck at Blue River for a very long time. It was pretty annoying, actually, because we just barely left cell service when we were forced to stop for a broken down freight train. I joked that we should have backed up to cell service range if we were gonna be delayed like this.

I excused myself at the point to charge my phone and recharge my social batteries.

My phone was still charging during dinner, so I didn’t get a picture of dinner, but it was just rack of lamb. Delicious and spectacular, but I’m pretty sure everyone can summon the mental image of rack of lamb. I ended up seated with an Asian couple who didn’t really speak English, and a man I could have sworn was Japanese but said he was from Hawaii. He was not super chatty, but we made some small talk.

After dinner, I got waylaid by Marty. He was in the little serving pantry in the lounge car, preparing flights of beer for beer tasting in the evening. Marty is one of those people who can see me, I think. He sees a lot of people come through the train every week, and I stand out. We stood around chatting for about half an hour, until his boss showed up and I jokingly excused myself, “I should stop distracting you.”

“Oh, no worries, if you’re here then I don’t have to work!”

We crossed into our third time change; Pacific time. I settled down for another puzzle, now that it was too dark to see the scenery. Around 7:30 we stopped in Kamloops.

Marty was struggling to gather enough people for beer tasting; everyone was feeling the time changes. I did a lap of the train and managed to summon enough people to fill the room for him, although I declined to actually indulge. Me and Jakob worked on my puzzle while throwing random sarcastic comments at Marty.

Despite all the delays, we were still on time. They bake an extra 6 hours into the schedule, partially in case there are delays, and partially because they can’t wake us all up at 2 AM and kick us off the train.

Me and Jakob were the last ones awake that night, finishing the puzzle.

Sleep was restless. Jakob mentioned later that we stopped at around 2AM for a couple of hours, just to kill time, because the train has to book in when it’ll be at the station and can’t just park there infinitely.

I woke up around 5:30, the lights of the city glittering outside.

We were in Vancouver.

We were having a proper breakfast, starting at 6:30. I packed up all my things and headed down to the lounge car to wait. Seemed most people had the same idea; breakfast was a quick and dirty affair. I ended up seated with Steven and the farming couple, who mentioned that I should write about my adventures.

Funny you should mention it…

I ended up giving all three of them the link to my blog.

Went back to my bunk. They hadn’t torn them down yet, for some weird reason. I managed to fish my luggage out from under Jakob’s bunk, and was released from the train at 7:30.

The real journey begins… today.