by Lauren Kramer
What could be more romantic than hurtling through the darkness in the bed of a luxury train car, the soothing rhythm of the train on the tracks lulling you to sleep?
Train travel brings with it the nostalgia of a yesteryear form of transportation. It has an old-world grandeur, a mystique and a formality you just can’t experience in a ’plane or on a cruise ship.
On most trips, the transportation is the dullest part of the journey, but travel by train and the journey becomes an integral part of the trip, sometimes overpowering the very destination. Though it will always carry a certain timelessness, train travel has changed a lot in recent years.
Just ask Eugene Restiaux, a service manager with VIA Rail. “I started at the age of 18, and realized, some 18 years later, I was a lifer,” he jokes from the bar of the park car. Restiaux and long-standing members of his team have seen the railway adopt a more modern façade, particularly over the last decade or so.
Five years ago, for example, smokers were welcomed on the railway, and the third seating at dinner was reserved exclusively for those who couldn’t resist the habit. Today, there is a zero tolerance policy for smoking on the railway, a rule that has resulted in a cleaner smelling environment on board, but one that annoys many a passenger who happens to be a smoker.
Restiaux well remembers the days when flushing the toilet on board meant its contents were splattered at high speeds on the tracks.
It wasn’t difficult to persuade passengers who insisted on sticking their heads out of the window to come back inside, back then. “I’d say to them, do you feel that water on your face? That means someone on board just flushed the toilet,” he says with a smile. “They’d retract their heads pretty quickly!”
The method of disposing of human waste on VIA’s trains changed five years ago, when vacuum toilets, not unlike those on an airplane, were installed. Today’s toilets store their contents in retention tanks, discharging them in a more hygienic manner every four days in Toronto or Vancouver’s terminals.
There have been other changes, too. In 1989, steam generators were exchanged for electric. In a 1999 cosmetic overhaul on VIA’s cars, hot showers were installed, as well as thicker mattresses and new upholstery on the seats.
Traveling by rail has not lost its romance, its mystique or its simple pleasure over the years.
Time becomes deliciously irrelevant when you’re on the train. Sealed into a fast-moving capsule, there is time enough for anything.
Time to lounge in bed over a decadent breakfast. Time to read a riveting book cover to cover. Time to mull over the ultimate word in a game of Scrabble, and time to have long, uninterrupted conversations with your traveling partner, or the people seated opposite you at dinner, or the service managers and staff, as they begin to relax at the end of a long day.
That’s when the stories come out. Like the one about the young guys hired by drug dealers to ship their narcotics east in December 2006. “There were red lights going off all over the place for us,” says Restiaux, whose team undergoes Jetway training to learn to recognize suspicious activity.
“They paid for their tickets minutes before boarding, in cash, but were suspiciously young to be carrying so much money around,” he recalls. “They checked in two large hockey bags that were disproportionately heavy, and they had no hockey sticks.
And as soon as they came on board they starting flashing more money and demanding an upgrade.” Restiaux quickly alerted the RCMP, who apprehended the drug dealers in Winnipeg.
In 31 years on the job, he has seen relatively little passenger misbehaviour on board, as those who choose to travel by rail do so to appreciate a relaxing journey, many of them traveling in VIA’s Silver & Blue service, launched in 1992.
Unlike Comfort class passengers, those in Silver & Blue enjoy fine dining meals in the dining car, hot beverages and snacks in the Bullet Lounge and at night, a turn-down service where their roomette reveals a comfy bed with clean linens and chocolates on the pillows.
The first class experience on VIA is called Romance By Rail, where two roomettes are joined together to permit a queen-size bed to dominate the space. By day the beds are folded away to accommodate four padded chairs and a small table. The suite comes with fresh flowers, his and hers washrooms, snowy white towels and a bottle of welcoming champagne.
A Romance by Rail trip between Vancouver and Jasper return can cost up to $3,767 per couple, but it’s about the experience, not the money, insists Reg Muir, a service manager with VIA who has worked for the railways for 30 years.
“You don’t take the train just to get where you’re going. Rather, it’s a land cruise, an experience in itself,” he says. Restiaux agrees. “Airlines sell a transportation service. We sell a transportation experience.”
I can’t help but agree with him as I look out the window at the blur of verdant forests, expansive lakes and mountains. Anywhere else, there’s a myriad of distractions competing for your attention. On the train, though, it’s just you, your traveling companion, and the scenery.
This makes it a great cocoon of privacy for personal celebrations, a journey that is wonderfully relaxing, as soothing as a long massage, and insufficiently appreciated.
Next time you hear “All Aboard,” don’t think twice.
About the author:
This week Traveling Tales welcomes freelance travel writer Lauren Kramer who lives in Richmond, a suburb of Vancouver, B.C.
Photos by Cathy Lukovich:
1: Enjoying the view as well as relaxing and visiting. Cathy Lukovich photo..
2: Passengers prepare a toast to the trip. Cathy Lukovich photo.
3: Lots of space and comfort aboard. Cathy Lukovich photo.
The glass showcases circling The Party, reveal some surprising facts. How many of us can recognize our B.C. tartan, or have actually worn the rather hit-me-in-the-eye jacket on display? You’ll never guess who sported this back in the early ‘70s. And do you know that the rare white Kermode bear is our provincial mammal?
I meet up with a roving musician singing ballads about fame, fortune, love and loss and spend a while listening to actors on stage recounting tales of courage and misadventure: stories about people like you and me.
Mother Nature determines when flowers are going to flourish, and during this unusually chilly spring, the tulips have had a tough time raising their pretty heads. Kate Onos-Gilbert would know. As owner of Tulips of the Valley Festival she definitely understands how her garden grows.
When Brian and Faye Minter purchased their property at the base of Mt Cheam, they had a vision. If they built a world class garden on this site, they hoped people would come. And they did. Ever since May, 1980, when Minter Gardens came to life, so did their dream.
Docking below North America’s oldest Chinatown, we stroll to Swans Brewpub for lunch. Surrounded by oak, brick and extraordinary artwork, we sip traditional British-style ales. Buckerfield’s once sold animal-feeds and grain here; today the on-site brewery ferments grains into eight hearty beers.
On our last day, the Galloping Goose trail leads us up to James Dunsmuir’s astounding castle on Hatley Park Estate. Like his coal-baron father, he built an Edwardian castle outside downtown Victoria, declaring, “Money doesn’t matter, just build me what I want.”
The Visitor Information Centre, close by the parking lot, affords all sorts of information, including an official mural map for a dollar. This self-guided walking tour of the famed murals is aided by the painted yellow feet you can follow around town.
Either way you can keep your day alive lazing back afterwards at the Dancing Bean Café, where musical entertainment adds to the ambience on Fridays and Saturdays, or at the Twisted Sisters Tea House on Maple Street, where you can enjoy whatever is playing on their big screen and an assortment of over sixty teas.
Then in 1899, it stopped. The Gold Rush was over, the miners moved on. Dawson City reverted into a sub-Arctic community with a difference – a ghostly aura of the dancing girls and fast living hovers over the town.
But these were two determined women who met about fifteen years ago. “I was passing through at the time,” said Kim, “and Wendy was a dancer at Diamond Tooth Gerties Gambling Hall.” As they got the feel of the historic town with its wooden sidewalks, dirt roads and historic buildings, the lure of the Yukon seduced them and they determined to stay.
Stretching from Vieux-Port to Rue Notre-Dame, fine 19th-century townhouses and mansions surround Place-Jacques Cartier.
Then, everyone had gardens; large ones like this covered nearly two-thirds of the old fortified town,” explains the gardener, harvesting pungent chives, young carrots and emerald sprigs of parsley.
Lourdes, focused upon the mill and benefitted from its isolation in maintaining its unique French Canadian culture. It was not until the tidal swell of greater Vancouver pushed deeper inland that the culture integrity of the community began to be threatened. Yet the community persists and is experiencing a proud rebirth.
Bright new Heritage Carre’ at Brunette and King Edward Streets houses Place Des Arts and the community Musee (museum) along with historical mementoes set in a pedestrian friendly environment. Bilingual interpretive signs dot the Maillardville area of Coquitlam and a colourful brochure, Maillardville Toujours,, complete with photos, provides for a self-guided walking tour of the old town.
For a more serene glide down the mountainside alongside skiers and snowboarders, you can’t beat the Sno-Limo for comfort, ingenuity and convenience. Just a year old, the Sno- Limo is like a ski stroller for adults.
Some of the best ways to travel through the snow are those that have been around the longest-like dog sledding. Though not typically available in relatively warm climates like Whistler, local entrepreneur Bob Fawcett decided to give Whistler visitors a chance to experience this ancient form of transportation.
An arched walkway veered off Main Street, and led to The Fort Museum of the North West Mounted Police. Red-coated riders on sleek prancing steeds entered the grounds, their white pith helmets bobbing to the rhythm of “This land is your land, this land is my land….” My chest swelled with pride as we watched a musical ride performed by young equestrians, in replica uniforms of our Canadian icons.
Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump is a short drive north and west of Fort MacLeod. We were greeted by resounding drum beats and the chanting of singers recounting 6,000 years of history. Nimble dancers dressed in beads, porcupine roaches and eagle feathers enacted ancient traditions to the delight of the audience.