I love to give advice. I rarely do it, because most people don't actually want advice, they just want you to agree with them. But getting older makes it more acceptable to give advice, either because you're more experienced and hence wiser, or because you care less what other people think of you. Because you're old and what does it matter anyway.
So rather than impose myself on other people, I will offer it up my words of wisdom here. Some of it's actual advice; some of it is just observational.
1. Never run for a bus, but make sure that you'd able to if you really wanted. (The first part is a 2000 Year-Old Man quote, the second is because whenever I do a short sprint I think about this).
2. Baby carrots are not actually babies. They are regular carrots cut into small pieces. You should just know that. They don't even say baby carrots on the bags, they call them Baby Cut Carrots, which is a nonsense phrase.
3. Recognize that sometimes it just hurts to be alive. I think I'm a pretty happy, open, comfortable-with-myself kind of guy and I have a nice life, but I still have moments when being conscious hurts. I can't really tell you what's going on, but it's something existential. I feel it most days and fortunately it's fleeting. But it's not hard for me to imagine how hard it might be for someone with a less solid base than I have. On a related note,
4. Give yourself a break. From what I'm observed, most people are much harder on themselves than anyone else is. If for no other reason than that nobody thinks about you nearly as often as you do (or think they do).
4. Don't let the perfect be the enemy of the good. If you spend too much time ruminating about the way things ought to be or focusing on how reality is not just like that, you'll make yourself unhappy and have less fun that you might. Speaking of which.
5. Have fun. Every day, have fun. One of my favorite movie lines is in "State and Main," a sadly underappreciated David Mamet film about a bunch of Hollywood types making a movie in a small town in Vermont. At one point, one of them says to a local woman, "I guess you have to make you're own fun around here." And she replies, "Everyone has to make their own fun. If you don't make it yourself, it's not fun; it's entertainment." So don't just binge watch, do something.
6. I've kind of resigned myself to the fact that in general usage "random" does not mean anything even remotely like random. But I guess if "literally" can mean "figuratively," all bets are off.
7. And last night I saw an experienced public speaker refer to something as fruitional, which is definitely not a word, though one can argue that it should be. To make matters worse, she used it twice in a 5 minute introduction. Lazy lazy lazy. Easier to make something up that figure out how to use the actual words that are available to you.
I'm sure there's more to come.
Monday, October 26, 2015
Thursday, October 22, 2015
You can't be older than dead
I have to credit the title to Bill James, who did not invent serious statistical analysis in baseball but who was the one who made it mainstream. He was discussing how extremely old a particular ballplayer was by listing all the old people he was even older than, but noted that he couldn't be older than one of them because that guy was dead.
I have to admit, after the great trip and birthday weekend that Ronnie gave me, that part of me was let down and thinking, well, "Fuck me, I'm 60. I'm done." But more of me is feeling okay. The cliché is "You're only as old as you feel." Honestly, that's both kind of bullshit and kind of true.
On one hand, you're old as you are is more accurate. At 60 I have some limitations and I don't recover from injuries as fast as I used to, but it's nothing I can't live with. Something always hurts when I get up in the morning. Normally it goes away as soon as I start moving around, but as you get older you start to lose confidence that something that hurts is ever going to get better. But I'm pretty thoughtful about the way I move and treat myself, so I don't often "insult" my musculoskeletal system, as the orthopedists say.
On the other hand, part of it is about how I feel and part of it about how I act. I've never acted my age. I was precocious as a kid, immature as a teen/young adult, and kind of youthful as an older adult. In fact, the best part of turning 60 (aside from the great trip) has been all the people who can't believe that I'm 60. The flip side of this, unfortunately, is that acting young is harder when you're not actually young. I don't think about it much when I'm busy, but there are moment that I suddenly, if briefly, hit a wall.
Aside from good genes, I think I have two things going for me. First, I have, and am truly grateful for, some little voice in my head that is always telling me to push ahead. "Take the stairs, pedal in a higher gear, walk to the supermarket," and all kinds of other exhortations. I try not to sit still. This voice helps keeps me in shape and my weight is the same as it was 25 years ago.
The other thing is more subtle and interesting, I think. I am, both by nature and design, open to as much as I can be, whether it be ideas or foods or people or whatever. I sometimes think the thing that ages you the fastest is closing yourself off to things, deciding "I don't like that" and not trying new stuff. I'm hardly what you'd call adventurous, but if I had to name my favorite characteristic, it would be open-mindedness.
Being open has all sorts of advantages, because it forces you to actually listen when you're conversing with someone, and to consider alternate viewpoints, even when you're pretty sure you have the right answer. I work really hard at taking everything at face value, not prejudging. Aside from everything else, life's just more interesting that way.
I probably have more words of wisdom lying around somewhere, but that's another post.
I have to admit, after the great trip and birthday weekend that Ronnie gave me, that part of me was let down and thinking, well, "Fuck me, I'm 60. I'm done." But more of me is feeling okay. The cliché is "You're only as old as you feel." Honestly, that's both kind of bullshit and kind of true.
On one hand, you're old as you are is more accurate. At 60 I have some limitations and I don't recover from injuries as fast as I used to, but it's nothing I can't live with. Something always hurts when I get up in the morning. Normally it goes away as soon as I start moving around, but as you get older you start to lose confidence that something that hurts is ever going to get better. But I'm pretty thoughtful about the way I move and treat myself, so I don't often "insult" my musculoskeletal system, as the orthopedists say.
On the other hand, part of it is about how I feel and part of it about how I act. I've never acted my age. I was precocious as a kid, immature as a teen/young adult, and kind of youthful as an older adult. In fact, the best part of turning 60 (aside from the great trip) has been all the people who can't believe that I'm 60. The flip side of this, unfortunately, is that acting young is harder when you're not actually young. I don't think about it much when I'm busy, but there are moment that I suddenly, if briefly, hit a wall.
Aside from good genes, I think I have two things going for me. First, I have, and am truly grateful for, some little voice in my head that is always telling me to push ahead. "Take the stairs, pedal in a higher gear, walk to the supermarket," and all kinds of other exhortations. I try not to sit still. This voice helps keeps me in shape and my weight is the same as it was 25 years ago.
The other thing is more subtle and interesting, I think. I am, both by nature and design, open to as much as I can be, whether it be ideas or foods or people or whatever. I sometimes think the thing that ages you the fastest is closing yourself off to things, deciding "I don't like that" and not trying new stuff. I'm hardly what you'd call adventurous, but if I had to name my favorite characteristic, it would be open-mindedness.
Being open has all sorts of advantages, because it forces you to actually listen when you're conversing with someone, and to consider alternate viewpoints, even when you're pretty sure you have the right answer. I work really hard at taking everything at face value, not prejudging. Aside from everything else, life's just more interesting that way.
I probably have more words of wisdom lying around somewhere, but that's another post.
Saturday, October 03, 2015
How can something so Wright seem so wrong?
I just finished the Wright Brothers biography by David McCullough on the plane back from Calgary (On a plane! How ironic. Or not). It was an excellent book but it left me confused and disappointed.
As a child, I had a Wright Brothers biography that I read multiple times. It was an inspirational tale of two industrious brothers, who came from humble beginnings and through hard work and determination created the first motorized flying machine. They were devoted to their family, especially their sister Kate, and triumphed over all adversity.
Of course, as an adult I assumed this was whitewashed, just like my biography of Mickey Mantle, All-American Boy and all-round upright citizen. It turns out that upright was not correct either figuratively or in many cases literally. Nobody could be that virtuous.
But when I read this book about Wilbur and Orville Wright, I was surprised to find that my old biography had actually understated the case. They weren't just hard-working and industrious; they were ingenious and resourceful and patient and scientific. They invented and constructed whatever they needed out of whatever materials were available to them. As for adversity, the obstacles they faced were far beyond what I'd read or imagined. Kitty Hawk was a nightmare of a place to work. Though it offered the perfect conditions for the flying part at times, everything else was just as easy as you can imagine building a high-tech workshop and living quarters on a barely inhabited, mosquito-infested sand bar would be.
And about their family? They were each others' support system. They took care of Kate and their father, and vice versa. They worked together almost perfectly. They were also crazy smart, honest, humble, forthright, unfailingly polite, virtuous in every sense of the word, and completely comfortable in their skins. They even had a sense of humor, for god's sake. They did it for neither the money nor the glory; all they wanted was to succeed where so many others had failed. And their triumph was thrilling and complete.
It's an amazing story. You'd never believe it if it were fiction.
As a child, I had a Wright Brothers biography that I read multiple times. It was an inspirational tale of two industrious brothers, who came from humble beginnings and through hard work and determination created the first motorized flying machine. They were devoted to their family, especially their sister Kate, and triumphed over all adversity.
Of course, as an adult I assumed this was whitewashed, just like my biography of Mickey Mantle, All-American Boy and all-round upright citizen. It turns out that upright was not correct either figuratively or in many cases literally. Nobody could be that virtuous.
But when I read this book about Wilbur and Orville Wright, I was surprised to find that my old biography had actually understated the case. They weren't just hard-working and industrious; they were ingenious and resourceful and patient and scientific. They invented and constructed whatever they needed out of whatever materials were available to them. As for adversity, the obstacles they faced were far beyond what I'd read or imagined. Kitty Hawk was a nightmare of a place to work. Though it offered the perfect conditions for the flying part at times, everything else was just as easy as you can imagine building a high-tech workshop and living quarters on a barely inhabited, mosquito-infested sand bar would be.
And about their family? They were each others' support system. They took care of Kate and their father, and vice versa. They worked together almost perfectly. They were also crazy smart, honest, humble, forthright, unfailingly polite, virtuous in every sense of the word, and completely comfortable in their skins. They even had a sense of humor, for god's sake. They did it for neither the money nor the glory; all they wanted was to succeed where so many others had failed. And their triumph was thrilling and complete.
It's an amazing story. You'd never believe it if it were fiction.
Friday, October 02, 2015
The day in Banff
I was trying to remember if there was anything I missed. I mean, it was two days on the train, and I took around 500 pictures. But it seems like we did nothing but go through beautiful country and how much an you say about that, one if comes down to it. The beauty speaks for itself.
So we arrived in Banff 6-something and got shuttled to the Fairmont Hotel there, which is kind of like a castle. It’s absolutely huge and there’s actually more to it than just that main hotel; there’s a conference center and some other stuff that I didn’t explore.
Ronnie and I went out to dinner at a place called Park Distillery, which has a huge still from which they seem to sell nothing. Part of it’s licensing and part is just it’s new and they don’t have the stuff yet. Distilling takes time, I guess. In any event, the cocktails and beer were delicious and the food was very good.
Then to bed, before the one morning we didn’t need to get up any particular time. We woke up in Banff, which is a really beautiful place. The town is okay, not crazy upscale like Aspen, but pretty lively, featuring lots of gift shops and cafés to go with the bars and jewelry stores.
Our first trip was to Lake Louise, a glacial lake about 45 minutes away. The best way I can describe the lake is that it’s a jewel. It’s this almost unnatural greenish blue. It’s a glacial lake, and part of the glacier still remains, hanging over it in the distance. It’s quite a remarkable sight, as I guess I just remarked.
Ronnie and I walked along a train on the shoreline for a while, enjoying the quiet and the beauty. It was another beautiful day out- sunny and mid-60’s. You can rent canoes, but we were hungry and wanted to see other stuff, so we headed back to Banff.
After lunch and some coffee, we went for a hike through a very strange landscape. There’s a thermal spring on nearby Sulfur Mountain, and it feed a marsh area that thrives on the warm water that’s there year-round. It’s unlike anything I’d seen before, because you have these huge, sheer mountains all around, a river doing its river stuff, and then this marsh.
According to the signs, people were curious if the marsh would support tropical fish, and in fact it does to an extent. There are a lot of Black Mollies around, and some small fish that look like guppies but are called mosquito fish, named after their favorite food. I’m glad I’m not named after my favorite food.
The whole area was strange and beautiful in totally unexpected ways. I said at some point it looked like hand-colored black and white. Photos don’t quite do it justice, but they try.
After that, we headed up to the thermal springs themselves, about feet higher on the mountain. Unfortunately, you don’t get to see the spring itself (I’m guessing it might not look like anything except a bunch of leaking puddles), but there’s a pool where you can soak in the mineral water. It’s about hot tub temperature, which was very soothing and felt good along with the upper 50’s air. Aside from the soaking, the main event was the frequent plea of “Someone stole my towel!” It’s like at baggage claim, all those white towels look alike. Fortunately, I’d borrowed ours from the hotel and (a) didn’t really care and (b) had them in a plastic bag, where they couldn’t be confused with others.
Back in town, we walked the streets, lined with shops I had no desire to go inside of, so we stopped for a drink, returned the rental car, and caught the shuttle to the bus station for an evening ride to Calgary. We departed right around sunset.
I’d always wanted to see Banff and was not disappointed. It’s stunningly beautiful in many ways. I could have spent longer there, but this was a nice taste. This was a wonderful trip and I couldn’t have asked for a better birthday present. Ronnie took care of everything and all I had to do was sit back and enjoy it, which I did, every moment of it.
From all accounts, there’s not much to do in Calgary, which was fine, because we got in at 9-something and had a 6 AM (!) flight the next morning. Maybe I didn’t enjoy the waking up at 3:10 AM moment, but the rest was great.
So we arrived in Banff 6-something and got shuttled to the Fairmont Hotel there, which is kind of like a castle. It’s absolutely huge and there’s actually more to it than just that main hotel; there’s a conference center and some other stuff that I didn’t explore.
 |
| View from our hotel window |
Then to bed, before the one morning we didn’t need to get up any particular time. We woke up in Banff, which is a really beautiful place. The town is okay, not crazy upscale like Aspen, but pretty lively, featuring lots of gift shops and cafés to go with the bars and jewelry stores.
Our first trip was to Lake Louise, a glacial lake about 45 minutes away. The best way I can describe the lake is that it’s a jewel. It’s this almost unnatural greenish blue. It’s a glacial lake, and part of the glacier still remains, hanging over it in the distance. It’s quite a remarkable sight, as I guess I just remarked.
Ronnie and I walked along a train on the shoreline for a while, enjoying the quiet and the beauty. It was another beautiful day out- sunny and mid-60’s. You can rent canoes, but we were hungry and wanted to see other stuff, so we headed back to Banff.After lunch and some coffee, we went for a hike through a very strange landscape. There’s a thermal spring on nearby Sulfur Mountain, and it feed a marsh area that thrives on the warm water that’s there year-round. It’s unlike anything I’d seen before, because you have these huge, sheer mountains all around, a river doing its river stuff, and then this marsh.
According to the signs, people were curious if the marsh would support tropical fish, and in fact it does to an extent. There are a lot of Black Mollies around, and some small fish that look like guppies but are called mosquito fish, named after their favorite food. I’m glad I’m not named after my favorite food.
The whole area was strange and beautiful in totally unexpected ways. I said at some point it looked like hand-colored black and white. Photos don’t quite do it justice, but they try.
After that, we headed up to the thermal springs themselves, about feet higher on the mountain. Unfortunately, you don’t get to see the spring itself (I’m guessing it might not look like anything except a bunch of leaking puddles), but there’s a pool where you can soak in the mineral water. It’s about hot tub temperature, which was very soothing and felt good along with the upper 50’s air. Aside from the soaking, the main event was the frequent plea of “Someone stole my towel!” It’s like at baggage claim, all those white towels look alike. Fortunately, I’d borrowed ours from the hotel and (a) didn’t really care and (b) had them in a plastic bag, where they couldn’t be confused with others.
Back in town, we walked the streets, lined with shops I had no desire to go inside of, so we stopped for a drink, returned the rental car, and caught the shuttle to the bus station for an evening ride to Calgary. We departed right around sunset.
From all accounts, there’s not much to do in Calgary, which was fine, because we got in at 9-something and had a 6 AM (!) flight the next morning. Maybe I didn’t enjoy the waking up at 3:10 AM moment, but the rest was great.
Thursday, October 01, 2015
So Kamloops, and beyond.
Kamloops, tournament capital of the world, is clearly very ice sports oriented, as they are hosting the 2016 Women's World Hockey Championship (hard to walk 10 feet without seeing some mention of it) and aside from the real arena they have another hockey rink and a curling club.
We arrived around 6:30, loaded onto Bus #5, which took us to the fabulous Hotel 540.Their name is their address! How clever! Our luggage was sitting in our room. The room had some other stuff in it, but I'd be hard pressed to tell you what. We pretty much immediately left and went for a walk.
The town has one very main street full of shops and restaurants, including a surprising number of bridal shops. So I guess it's the getting married capital too. The other streets were pretty dead so we headed to what was reputed to be a pretty good restaurant, called the Noble Pig. I give you the link in case you were thinking of visiting Kamloops at any point soon.
Although the Noble Pig menu didn’t look very good (talking about appearance only), they had a microbrewery, and as it turned out, the food was quite good. I had an interesting salad topped with grilled salmon, and Ronnie and I shared a charcuterie plate. I had their special, a Coffee Double Dubbel brew, with a high alcohol content and a bit of coffee "for an extra kick," as our cheerful server told us.
With that pleasant surprise literally under our belts, we headed back to the room and promptly crashed. For a bit anyway. We had to be up for a 6:15 AM pickup, so nobody from the train slept well. I got tired of waking up every hour and went for a walk around 5. It was a little spooky, but quiet and kind of pretty, in a dark sort of way. There was a nice full moon and you could hear the frogs jumping and croaking in the river.
Back at the hotel, we arrived downstairs along with everyone else at 6:10 and got back on bus #5, which delivered us back to the train.
The same staff greeted us, Frederico (memorable quote- "You should call out if you see an animal, but after you call out "Cow!" for the thirtieth time I'm going to have to come and talk to you") and Tiffany upstairs, Patrick and a woman whose name escapes me (who shared with us the Robert Service classic poem, The night I cremated Sam McGee) downstairs. Onto the train we climbed and by 7:00 we were on our way. Gotta say, Rocky Mountaineer runs a good shop. Everything was tight and on schedule to the extent they can control that running on tracks shared with freight trains. There are two seatings for each meal; yesterday we were first and today we were second. So the whole front of the car ate together, as did the back if the car. At breakfast time, to keep you busy while you wait for your seating, they give you fresh-baked scones and coffee. Very nice.
So there are a lot of differences between this kind of train trip and an Amtrak kind of train trip, of which I've done several. First of all, this train doesn't stop. You're on the train and moving all day long. Amtrak trains have stations, and sometimes they stop for 5-15 minutes, so you can get off and walk around. Although the food isn't nearly as good, they also don't have the same rigid kind of seatings. You do still sit communally in the dining room. There's also a lounge car, so you can change location on the train itself. On the other hand, this train has a bar open all day from about 10:30 AM until you pull into the station. And it's all included, and you have the opportunity to stand outside, which was really amazing. One of the most fun things there is to see the train turning ahead of you.
The biggest difference, of course, is that the whole train stops for the night and you get to sleep in a hotel. The last train trip I took I had a roomette, which had two seats that slid down to make a kind of bed. I can't say I slept great on that ride, but probably as well as I did at Hotel 540.
So off we went. The sun was rising and there was a mist on the the river.
By the way, the weather on this trip has been the polar opposite of what we got in Ireland. It's been sunny with high of upper 60's throughout, which is extremely unseasonable. It's usually low 60's with showers, just like we got in Ireland. Not a bad trade. But anyway, the mist eventually enveloped the train, but burned off pretty soon, and we were out of the desert and into greener, and mountainer landscapes.
The scenery was one of the few things I've seen that actually merits the descriptor awesome. Mountains, canyons, rivers, bridges. Just incredible. All going by at a leisurely pace with no need to drive or pay attention.
And the tunnels? Those were fun, especially from outside (if they weren't too long and smoke-filled).
We passed the place there the last spike was struck to complete the Canadian Pacific Railway, and then the Continental Divide. We saw bald eagles, a moose, a grizzly bear and some kayakers ("Humans on the left!") And eventually we pulled into Banff. What a day!
If there are any loose ends, I'll clear them up later, but I want to get this posted.
We arrived around 6:30, loaded onto Bus #5, which took us to the fabulous Hotel 540.Their name is their address! How clever! Our luggage was sitting in our room. The room had some other stuff in it, but I'd be hard pressed to tell you what. We pretty much immediately left and went for a walk.
The town has one very main street full of shops and restaurants, including a surprising number of bridal shops. So I guess it's the getting married capital too. The other streets were pretty dead so we headed to what was reputed to be a pretty good restaurant, called the Noble Pig. I give you the link in case you were thinking of visiting Kamloops at any point soon.
Although the Noble Pig menu didn’t look very good (talking about appearance only), they had a microbrewery, and as it turned out, the food was quite good. I had an interesting salad topped with grilled salmon, and Ronnie and I shared a charcuterie plate. I had their special, a Coffee Double Dubbel brew, with a high alcohol content and a bit of coffee "for an extra kick," as our cheerful server told us.
With that pleasant surprise literally under our belts, we headed back to the room and promptly crashed. For a bit anyway. We had to be up for a 6:15 AM pickup, so nobody from the train slept well. I got tired of waking up every hour and went for a walk around 5. It was a little spooky, but quiet and kind of pretty, in a dark sort of way. There was a nice full moon and you could hear the frogs jumping and croaking in the river.
Back at the hotel, we arrived downstairs along with everyone else at 6:10 and got back on bus #5, which delivered us back to the train.
The same staff greeted us, Frederico (memorable quote- "You should call out if you see an animal, but after you call out "Cow!" for the thirtieth time I'm going to have to come and talk to you") and Tiffany upstairs, Patrick and a woman whose name escapes me (who shared with us the Robert Service classic poem, The night I cremated Sam McGee) downstairs. Onto the train we climbed and by 7:00 we were on our way. Gotta say, Rocky Mountaineer runs a good shop. Everything was tight and on schedule to the extent they can control that running on tracks shared with freight trains. There are two seatings for each meal; yesterday we were first and today we were second. So the whole front of the car ate together, as did the back if the car. At breakfast time, to keep you busy while you wait for your seating, they give you fresh-baked scones and coffee. Very nice.
So there are a lot of differences between this kind of train trip and an Amtrak kind of train trip, of which I've done several. First of all, this train doesn't stop. You're on the train and moving all day long. Amtrak trains have stations, and sometimes they stop for 5-15 minutes, so you can get off and walk around. Although the food isn't nearly as good, they also don't have the same rigid kind of seatings. You do still sit communally in the dining room. There's also a lounge car, so you can change location on the train itself. On the other hand, this train has a bar open all day from about 10:30 AM until you pull into the station. And it's all included, and you have the opportunity to stand outside, which was really amazing. One of the most fun things there is to see the train turning ahead of you.
The biggest difference, of course, is that the whole train stops for the night and you get to sleep in a hotel. The last train trip I took I had a roomette, which had two seats that slid down to make a kind of bed. I can't say I slept great on that ride, but probably as well as I did at Hotel 540.
So off we went. The sun was rising and there was a mist on the the river.
The scenery was one of the few things I've seen that actually merits the descriptor awesome. Mountains, canyons, rivers, bridges. Just incredible. All going by at a leisurely pace with no need to drive or pay attention.
First day of the train trip (like trains, this is running behind).
We had to get up very early for our train trip. Fortunately, the Starbucks across the street opens even earlier, so we were coffeed by the time we boarded the bus. We never do this kind of tour, with large groups, and we both find the regimentation amusing. Fill up the bus, and off to the train station. Luggage? Don't worry, we'll take that and it'll be in your room when we get there.
Where is there? Some place called Kamloops. More about that later, but it turns out that this operation, Rocky Mountaineer, has outgrown using the regular train station and has its own terminal (there’s a difference, BTW) on a spur track.
We have what they call Gold Leaf Service, which means our train car has an upper level for sitting, with wraparound dome windows, and a lower level for dining. The windows are spotless, as is the whole train, actually.
We boarded the train, listened to the safety announcement, then the train backed up to the main track, and we headed east. There’s a platform outside the train car, referred to as the vestibule, where there’s nothing but a gate between you and the outside. This is wonderful on a number of levels. First of all, you have no sense while you’re sitting on a train how loud it is outside. We went over a metal bridge and the clanging was deafening. I also loved that you can just look down and see the track whizzing by, and the tunnels? Wow.
I hadn’t really thought about it before, but one of the reasons I love these long train trips is that train tracks almost invariably follow rivers. I guess because towns grow up around rivers and rivers tend to be flat, except there they're waterfalls. And rivers are cool. There's always something going on by a river, even if it's just the river.
The first river we followed was called the Fraser, which approaches Vancouver through a lush valley. That made it smell like cow dung on the vestibule, but so what, I was like a dog in a car with the window open. I was just sticking my head out and watching.
Then suddenly it was arid and almost desert-like, except with a river flowing through it, so patches of green here and there. Meanwhile, inside the car, there were about a half dozen attendants seeing to our every need. Breakfast was tasty and massive, and shortly thereafter they announced that the bar was open, to great applause.
Where is there? Some place called Kamloops. More about that later, but it turns out that this operation, Rocky Mountaineer, has outgrown using the regular train station and has its own terminal (there’s a difference, BTW) on a spur track.
We have what they call Gold Leaf Service, which means our train car has an upper level for sitting, with wraparound dome windows, and a lower level for dining. The windows are spotless, as is the whole train, actually.
We boarded the train, listened to the safety announcement, then the train backed up to the main track, and we headed east. There’s a platform outside the train car, referred to as the vestibule, where there’s nothing but a gate between you and the outside. This is wonderful on a number of levels. First of all, you have no sense while you’re sitting on a train how loud it is outside. We went over a metal bridge and the clanging was deafening. I also loved that you can just look down and see the track whizzing by, and the tunnels? Wow.
I hadn’t really thought about it before, but one of the reasons I love these long train trips is that train tracks almost invariably follow rivers. I guess because towns grow up around rivers and rivers tend to be flat, except there they're waterfalls. And rivers are cool. There's always something going on by a river, even if it's just the river.
The first river we followed was called the Fraser, which approaches Vancouver through a lush valley. That made it smell like cow dung on the vestibule, but so what, I was like a dog in a car with the window open. I was just sticking my head out and watching.
Then suddenly it was arid and almost desert-like, except with a river flowing through it, so patches of green here and there. Meanwhile, inside the car, there were about a half dozen attendants seeing to our every need. Breakfast was tasty and massive, and shortly thereafter they announced that the bar was open, to great applause.
The people on the train were all really nice. We didn't have extended conversations with too many of them, but those of us who hung out in the vestibule chatted quite a bit. That's another attraction of trains. The people are almost invariably nice (Northeast Corridor excluded). We eat at tables of 4, which means 2 couples who don't know each other. Met two women from Australia (lots of Aussies) and a couple from Toronto.
Eventually, we approached Kanloops, a surprising large town for in the middle of nowhere. It's the tournament capital of the world, whatever that means.
Gotta go now. More later.
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