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Canadian Rail Tour

(Note: Clicking on any image in this travelogue will bring up an enlarged version of the image.
All photos by Mike Agranoff or Jenny Holan except as noted.)

Saturday, August 25
Whistler to Vancouver

The leg from Whistler to Vancouver was relatively short: 74 miles, 4-1/2 hours by rail. The train departed at 3:00, so we had much of the day to amuse ourselves in Whistler. We decided to take advantage of loaner bicycles made available to us by the Nita Lake Lodge and bike to Whistler. It's been a good 15 or 20 years since I'd been on a bicycle. Different sort of machine than I used to ride. I used to have a drop-handlebar 15-speed road bike with thin hard low-friction tires that I would routinely take to work about 7 or 8 miles over some serious hills. This one was a mountain bike with sprung suspension, fatter and softer tires, a much more upright seating position, and 14 speeds. But, to state the obvious, it's sort of like riding a bicycle; it all came right back. The only thing that took some getting used to was the gearshift mechanism, which was actuated by twisting the handgrips, rather than the levers mounted on the frame of my old bike. I needed to think about which way to twist to lower the ratio.

Whistler is a very bicycle-friendly town with separate bicycle trails for most of the journey, and marked bike lanes on the few sections of automobile roads we traversed. The hotel kindly gave us a map, which bore some vague resemblance to the actual routes, but not enough to keep us from getting lost. But we did make it to town and back eventually. All told, we probably covered about 10 or 15 miles, and felt not unduly tuckered out upon return.

The train to Vancouver was not equipped with the double-decker observation cars. But it did have an antique open-air observation car that I'd guess dated from somewhere in the '30's. And the route was a spectacular journey down the Cheakamus River to the sea along an ever-deepening Canyon, which eventually emptied into the fjord that is Howe Sound. The right-of-way clung to the side of this gorge, and twisted along with the contours of the canyon, sometimes boring through tunnels or hung out in space supported by trusses off the canyon wall when the terrain made bends too sharp to be followed by rail. Our progress was very slow along this twisting course, accompanied by almost continuous squealing from the wheel flanges as they snaked along the sharp curves.

Whistler to the Sea


108. Our train pulling into Whistler


109. Arrival at Whistler


110. Jenny out the window


111. Me out the window


112. Distant peak


113. Milepost 59.5 (Finally one photo whose location I can pinpoint with certainty!)


114 thru 127, The........................


.........................Cheakamus.....................


.........................river........................


.......................flows........................


.......................south.........................


......................through.....................


........................an............................


.........................ever-.......................


......................deepening....................


.....................spectacular.................


.........................gorge....................


.........................into..........................


........................Howe........................


..........................Sound.

We arrived at the in North Vancouver. The Terminus was somehow an anticlimax after such a spectacular journey. It should have been a monument to the grandeur of rail travel such as Grand Central Station in New York, or Union Station in Los Angeles. Instead, it was at the edge of a nondescript rail yard alongside a dozen other tracks full of freight cars and a chain link fence. We disembarked to the sound of the bullhorns of union pickets on the far side of the fence decrying Rocky Mountaineer's unfair treatment of their workers. Not knowing the facts of the dispute, I withheld judgment on the merit of the pickets' claims.

A half hour bus ride took us to the Fairmont Hotel Vancouver in the downtown area of the city. The snazziness of this Fairmont was pretty much confined to the interior. The outside was a blocky 12-story high-rise, unadorned except for some exterior gargoyles at the corners. The inside did hold an understated grandeur in the lobby and appointments. When we registered, we found our accommodations had been upgraded to the "Gold Floor". This afforded us some luxury extras, which ranged from the most welcome (24-hour lounge with snacks and a computer with Internet access) to the mildly bemusing (luxury valet) to the downright silly (Pillow Concierge).

Amenities


128. Luxury Valet


129. Pillow Concierge
(Click on the image and read it. Who comes up with this shit?)

Our tour included admission to the Vancouver Lookout, the iconic 550 foot tall mushroom shaped tower that overlooks the city complete with a revolving restaurant. We had not eaten yet, so we figured we'd treat ourselves to dinner in the restaurant. We walked the mile or so from the hotel to the tower. (Ya couldn't miss it, even if ya had no directions.) When we got there and looked at the menu, we discovered the prices were as high as the tower. So we decided we'd find someplace a little more reasonable to eat on the way back. We were lifted in a glass-sided exterior elevator, and emerged at the observation platform. By this time it was dark, and our vantage point afforded us a spectacular panorama of Vancouver at night. But I was left somehow unsatisfied with the experience. I've been to the top of the Empire State Building many times (and once to the top of the World Trade Center) in my home town of New York City. And I've always enjoyed the experience, as I could recognize so many of the landmarks I saw. But here in this strange city, the sights held no significance to me. Yup. That's pretty. What's next. I didn't even realize when, strolling around the 360° observation platform, I had returned to my starting point. After about 45 minutes, we descended, and started back to the hotel. And discovered that much of Vancouver shuts down after 9:00 PM. We did eventually find a Chinese restaurant where we were the last customers of the night.

On our way back to the Fairmont, we passed Christ Church Cathedral, a beautiful old church across the street from the hotel. We poked our heads inside to view the sumptuous wooden interior and stained glass windows. A sign posted outside announced that Saturday evening's Compline service would include some Gregorian Chant. That sounded intriguing, so we decided to attend the next day.

Sunday, August 26
Vancouver

This morning was my day to run. And rather than brave the sidewalks of downtown Vancouver, I went down to the Fitness Room and did a mile on one of the treadmills. I made an idiot of myself to the other early risers with my unfamiliarity of the equipment, at one point stumbling off the rear end of the machine before finally getting the hang of it.

We had the day in Vancouver. Rocky Mountaineer had scheduled a package of sightseeing events for the day, including a coach tour of the sights of the city and a scenic helicopter flight. But we were tired of being herded into and out of busses on somebody else's schedule. And we had spoken to some other tourists who had done the helicopter flight. They reported that they had traveled by coach (Aaaaaauuuuugh!) an hour and a half to the heliport, taken a 12-minute lovely flight, and then rode an hour and a half back. We decided to pass. Sometime during the day, I had gotten a text from Rocky Mountaineer inquiring about our absence, and wondering if we were all right. I called them to assure them that our absence was voluntary. And they very generously offered to refund the cost of those activities. I had not asked for or expected that courtesy, and it bespeaks well of the company's dedication to customer service.

We looked at the tourism brochures in the hotel, and decided to go to the Aquarium. A bus ride (mercifully short) took us to a large waterfront park where the Aquarium was situated. The park itself was beautiful and interesting, and also served as the business place of a wide variety of artists and crafters who set up booths along the pathways. There was a First Nations exhibit, a miniature railroad, a marina, and various other diversions along the way. The Aquarium was a bit pricey, but not outrageously expensive, and very large. We wandered the indoor exhibits of transparent-sided tanks of all sizes displaying everything from sharks to mollusks to coral reefs. There were outdoor pools featuring sea lions, dolphins, and whales. The dolphins and whales put on shows for the onlookers, leaping and cavorting on command. The commentary through the public address system during these shows was predictably juvenile, but I focussed on the obvious affection the aquatic mammals and their trainers held for each other, which made it more palatable.

My favorite display, however, was a tropical habitat, surprisingly out of keeping with an aquarium. Here we wandered in an artificial rainforest environment accompanied by uncaged birds, colorful frogs, and butterflies. There were startlingly red ibises, and a very sociable parrot, which carried on a rudimentary conversation with me, and deigned to let me stroke its head to the disapproval of the Aquarium attendants. Butterflies could be coaxed to alight on one's finger much to Jenny's delight.

Vancouver Aquarium


130. Marina in Riverfront Park


131. ...and this side makes you small.
Some scary monster foliage outside the Vancouver Aquarium


132. Sea Lion


133. Sociable blue-fronted Amazon Parrot (Thanks to Amy Hopkins for the bird identification)


134. Mango? (Beach ball?)


135. Ibis


136. Ibises (Ibi?)


137. Fuzzy frog.(The photo, not the frog.)


138. Hey look, Ma! I'm in a habitat!


139. Me too!


140. Malachite Butterfly (Nice camouflage!)


141. Butterfly in hand

Eventually, I started feeling tired, but Jenny wanted to see more. So I left the Aquarium, stretched out on the lawn with my backpack under my head and snoozed for an hour or so until she came to wake me up. We found the bus stop, and I encountered a rude bus driver who scolded me for delaying his schedule when I was unfamiliar with the established procedure for paying my fare, and asked if the bus passed the Fairmont. I'm getting to really dislike busses.

We went back to the hotel, and availed ourselves of the pool and spa, both of which were otherwise deserted at that time of the afternoon. I also tried a sauna for the first time. According to the other fellow in the sauna, it wasn't hot enough. I thought it was pretty comfy, so he was probably right. At 6:00, we walked across the street to Christ Church Cathedral for Compline. The singing was beautiful and relaxing, and I took it all in with closed eyes. No, Jenny, I was not sleeping.

We had asked the Concierge at the hotel to recommend us a nearby place for dinner, and they suggested the Cactus Club a few blocks away. We were hungry by the time the services were done, so we headed out, and were somewhat dismayed to find that the Cactus Club was this very hip, very in, new wave hangout for 20-somethings. It was all glass and stark black-and-white cubic decor with very loud techno "music" pervading the place. We asked if we could be seated someplace as quiet as could be found. They did so cheerfully at one of the tables in the nearly deserted al fresco dining area outside. The wall behind us was all glass with a full view of the kitchen, where we could watch the food being prepared. The evening chill was mitigated by radiant heaters above our table. The music still came through local speakers above our table, but they actually turned the volume down at our request. We decided to share an enormous cheeseburger the size of a cow, and it was delivered precut on two plates. We left them a big tip for being so accommodating to a couple of geezers.

Back to the hotel for a midnight snack in the Gold Floor Lounge. (No, we weren't really hungry after dinner, but I figured it would be wasteful to turn down the benefits of our lodging upgrade.)

It took me over 9000 words and 180 pictures to relate this trip.
My friend Jenny Holan managed to encapsulate it in a 312 word poem entitled "Rail Lines"
Click here to read it.