#016: The Sword of Omens, or something

There is no WiFi on the Toronto to Vancouver train. Someone should invent something that turns hindsight into foresight. The Sword of Omens or something. I'm forty minutes into a thirty-five hour train journey. I might actually go insane. I just looked out the window and the train is moving in the opposite direction to the one it started and it hasn't stopped once. It's forty-three minutes into a thirty-five hour train journey and the outside is going the wrong way. I so should have brought my laptop with me. I'm not sure Rex the Runt (on my ipod) is going to cut it. I mean, it will, especially the episodes where Vince gets Random Pavarotti Disease but, yeah, hindsight. Also, I unwittingly sat next to a "break glass here" emergency exit, so am this trains last resort. I even got a one-on-one pep talk with Tannis explaining how I was The Last Resort, and how to use the emergency hammer. Tannis is on the train as far as Winnipeg, same as me. She's all up and down the place a lot. One of her, Scott, Mark and the other one are awake at all times. I think I might be awake at all times too. My natural posture reclines more than these seats. Think positively: the recline setting on the chair is actually good for me. Fifty-two minutes in. The train is going in the opposite direction to the opposite direction.

Train quote #1: "You want some McDonald's cookies?"

I probably shouldn't have passed the time in Toronto drinking coffee. I'm minded to read another short story from my current book but there's only two left and I've still thirty-three hours and fifty-four minutes to go on the journey. It would be thirty-two hours and fifty-four minutes, except we slip from Eastern Time to Central Time somewhere in western Ontario, so I get to live one of the thirty-two hours twice over.
I was thinking about the International Date Line a couple of days ago. I'm scheduled to cross it once in each direction in the coming months so, cumulatively, my days gained and lost net out to zero. That only happens because I've chosen to go slightly-more-than half-way round the planet in one direction, and then back the way I came. Most people who venture that far from the UK with the intention of returning do a full lap. If travelling west, that means they lose a whole day somewhere, and spend the rest of their lives celebrating their birthday a day early. Bet they never thought of that.

Seventy-three minutes in.

Jump forward an hour and I've exhausted Rex and done a whole South Park too. It's gone midnight. A woman with green hair, a Matrix trenchcoat and a guitar case has just walked past and the train has stopped. Most people seem to be asleep. I'm just waiting to see what's going to happen next...

The 'night' was a collection of four or five 30 to 90 minute long naps, one of which even managed to conjure a dream-state. That was broken when the Wheelers (see "Return to Oz", 1985) trundled down my childhood road after all the local dogs had fled, as rats from a sinking ship. I always quite liked the Wheelers as far as evil minions go: steam-punk garb, gargoyle skull-caps and, of course, big wheels for hands and feet. I think they must have coincided with my look-longingly-at-the-skateboards-in-the-Argos-catalogue-at-least-once-a-week phase. Naturally they were too unwitting to survive the forces of good, as all good evil minions should be. I'm glad to know they live on in my subconscious - if it wasn't for me their last act would have been getting beaten up by a Blue Peter presenter in a clockwork tin can.
It's knocking on for 6am - the rumours amongst the living are that we are about an hour behind schedule due to freight movements. Twenty-eight hours to go...

The Autumnal colours are getting more and more vivid the further west I travel. It's light now and settlements are getting more sporadic. There are really striking reds and oranges amongst the yellows and greens and the darker hues of evergreens. Where we do pass through civilisation, the tracks run alongside roads and are open to public exploration. I guess its hard enough laying the railways across a country this vast (distance from Montréal to Vancouver is roughly the same as Montréal to London) to worry about the additional infrastructure of fencing. If I could remember the warning from the 1980's schools rail safety videos, I would quote it now. I do recall the story I wrote in my GCSE English exam was about a kid who died playing on the tracks.
I need a new spoon. My old one is more of an oversized tea-stirrer and a very-tiny-bowl combo. They are a matching set nonetheless; I may be able to trade. I never bothered with a knife or a fork because a spoon can slice, spread and paddle as good as the rest of them. Even the dandiest of runcibles.
These really are some of the proudest Autumnal colours I've ever seen. They're like: "Hey, look at me!". Set against a backdrop of mile upon mile of clear mist-covered lakes on my side - the, I think, north-east side - of the train. We've been following the lakes and waterways for over two hours now.

Twelve hours gone, twenty-four to go. The sky is blue and the sun is out. The lakes and the trees continue. I suspect that might be true for some time to come. During the course of the morning, one lady gets her daily dose of exercise by power-walking the length of the train repeatedly. She even has all the get-up: trainers, lycra shorts, sports top. It's very dedicated. I'm in the first carriage before the restricted staff only bit up ahead, and she even goes through the door to the restricted door - all of two feet away - on each lap.
There's another lady, quite a bit older, who keeps walking up and down the train. She, too, ventures as far as the restricted door and turns around each time. And each time she insists on pointing out to me its' restricted nature. Three times now. I think she's trying to freak me out. Boy, is she clever.

Time check: 14:25 Eastern Time, only half an hour behind schedule now. The landscape hasn't changed once since I woke up about nine hours ago; it might be a tad more undulating in the vicinity of the track - there have been a few bridges and embankments the last few hours - and the evergreen trees might be slightly taller, although nothing like I expect nearer the Pacific coast. Not quite half way to Winnipeg. In sixteen hours. This country is ******* massive.

Toilet breaks notwithstanding, I've now been sat in the same spot for twenty hours straight. I might go for a toilet break.

It's all-of-a-sudden gotten dusky, so the carriage lights are noticeably on. It's twenty to eight in the evening now. I think I cross a timezone soon, somewhere near Sioux Lookout. And yes, I shall.
I could mention the telegraph poles that religiously follow the course of the railway, and how a sizeable proportion of them - I reckon at least one percent, likely more - are fallen over or submerged, yet no-one seems to be out doing any fixing, but that whole thread of conversation strikes me as quite dull. I haven't seen any wildlife worth noting as yet, but I am fully prepared for bear-confrontation emergency procedure: as in soiling myself. Video camera is to hand, to capture the moment, as and when.

Q: What's the best thing to feed an obese toddler at 9pm at night?
A: Butter popcorn!

The realisation I'm only two-thirds of the way through this train journey hits me, at about two-thirds of the way through. I may have actually lost a little bit of my soul to the Canadian wilderness. But all is not lost! I arrive in Winnipeg in twelve hours. Two days later I board a train to Jasper; that journey only takes twenty-six hours. And, so you've got the complete picture, the onward journey to Vancouver is a mere nineteen hours. Child's play!
A couple of timely dozes and its midnight Central Time, its Sioux Lookout, and its six wakes till Winnipeg (probably).

Why Winnipeg, you ask?

To see a band. One band. Maybe even for more than an hour...

#015: The Start of the Second Half

So I´m on the other side of the Atlantic right now. I´ve come to Canada and, more specifically, Montréal, to attend a music festival of all things. My pop-leaning in recent years has swayed toward North American psychedelic pop, especially that of this city, so the International Festivale de Musique ´POP Montréal´ seems as good a place to go as any. The 300-strong line-up features a sizeable chunk of up-and-coming local talent, alongside more notable mainstays from around the world. It also comprises film, art, talks, fashion, record stores and the like and lasts for five days, so there is plenty to keep me occupied.
Highlights were...
YUCK - a very classy band
Plants and Animals performing live in a studio
Think About Life closing the festival in the hall of the sweatiest church I´ve ever been in

In Montréal it seems like its me DJing everywhere I go...Plants and Animals, The National, Sparklehorse...they even played an obscure Here We Go Magic song to a crowd of over 50,000 just before Arcade Fire took to the city centre stage for a special free gig they did marking the 10th edition of the festival. Montréal is very cosmopolitan and is situated on an island in the middle of the St Lawrence river. It has a chain of vegetarian buffet restaurants called Commonsal, where you pay for the weight of food on your plate. I ate over a kilo one afternoon. It took me an hour to drink my coffee afterwards. I occupied myself by seeing if anyones stride pattern prevented them from stepping on the cracks between the large paving slabs on the street below. No-ones did. Every single person stepped on a crack. I think I might be slightly autistic.
The toilets in Commonsal automatically flush as you get up. God knows how stand-up wipers cope with this. I had no problems, of course. Just a pleasant surprise.

I´ve seen more female construction workers in Montréal in one week (2) than I have seen in the UK in my entire life.

I booked my cross-Canada train tickets today. The ticket guy was unbelievably excited about my trip; I was quite taken aback. Once we had finished the transaction and I was putting the tickets in my bag he insisted I wait while he rushed off to get me an envelope for them. He gave me a timetable as well. The Toronto to New York train goes through Schenectady...those whom I subjected to Synechdoche will know how tempting that is. There is also a train route that literally goes: Windsor > Chatham > Glencoe > London > Woodstock > Aldershot > Toronto, and does it all in under 5 hours. My trip is in four legs. QC to ON, ON to MB, MB to AL and AL to BC...I start the journey to Winnipeg tomorrow (Tues) and arrive on Thursday morning.

Something else I did today...I helped a guy with no legs to close the boot of his car. It was nothing really. He couldn´t reach.

#014: Perspective

Something of a halfway-point interlude this one...

So a few things happened in August and September that have left me quite humbled by those around me. For a very long time I feel I have taken friendships and parenting for granted. I have been blinkered but, now, the veil has been lifted. Our time here is so fleeting, people. I saw a dog get run over when, had I crossed the road when I first saw it loose, I could have prevented it. Look after each other. I will try to do the same.