Travelling Hopefully - Training Edition

My train was due to leave Halifax at 1pm.  Some time after that it actually departed.  I was escorted to my cabin by a helpful attendant.  A little later the same attendant escorted me to another cabin with a working toilet.  For that relief much thanks.

Our long metal beast slid out of Halifax in the grey of the afternoon.  I made my way to the observation car and peered out at the gloom that was serving to conceal the countryside.  A helpful guide cheerfully announced what we would be able to see if we could see anything.  Somewhat more helpfully she also gave us wine and cheese.  There was a professional singer on the train and he entertained passengers in the lounge car that evening.  Fortunately I managed to avoid that.

We pounded down the tracks and into, then out of, Quebec City but I was asleep.  If you ask me what the place looked like I would have to say “the inside of my eyelids” which seems a silly design for a city.

I had to change trains in Montreal.  As we came in I saw my new conveyance sitting at the next platform.  Grabbing my bags I trotted hopefully across but before I could board an elite team of Canadian train guards crash tackled me.  This being Canada they managed to do it politely.  One of them took his foot off my head and, after apologising for the scuff marks, informed me that I couldn’t just get on the train, oh dearie me no.  I had to go upstairs, stand in a queue, display my ticket and wait for three quarters of an hour.  Then and only then, if I was deemed worthy might I be permitted to proceed back down the stairs and cross the hallowed portals of my economy class carriage.  Those travelling first class had to make a blood sacrifice and commit the soul of their first born to a life of servitude (seriously this is how Via Rail recruits it’s staff).

I saw a little of the Quebec countryside as we travelled, partly because it was now daylight and partly because it had stopped raining.  There seemed to be rolling fields, cute villages and the occasional clump of forest.  It was the countryside, what the hell do you expect me to say?  Eventually we got to a massive lake which was a sign we were getting close.  We made such good time that in order to maintain a reputation for tardiness the driver had to pull over for ten minutes to ensure we weren’t early.

The last time I left Cleveland I wanted to take the train but a late taxi driver coupled with the fact that he didn’t know where the Amtrak station was forced me to take a plane instead.  This time I was taking no chances.  I rose ridiculously early having ordered my cab for an equally early time and got to the station with forty five minutes to spare only to discover that in an attempt to be helpful Amtrak had contrived to make the train an hour late.  Thanks guys but we really need to coordinate in future.

I had to change trains in Buffalo or rather Buffalo–Depew.  The train doesn’t go all the way into Buffalo.  Depew is a village that is part of the greater Buffalo.  The train station is in what appears to be an industrial estate.  It’s a fascinating place to spend six hours waiting for a connecting train to Toronto.  Fortunately that one wasn’t late.

I definitely like rail border crossings though.  We piled off the train, got sniffed by dogs asked a couple of mildly personal questions by the border guards and we were through.  Niagara Falls railway  station looks somewhat nicer by daylight but not so much that you’d be encouraged to spend any time there.

And that’s it,  my trip is completed and all that’s left is to survive the flight home which is leaving in a few hours.