When Porter and I decided to take Via Rail across Canada, we had no doubt we’d enjoy ourselves. We love train travel, and the sleeper-car experience was a real “bucket list” item for each of us. I was a little worried about how I’d handle the absence of WIFI on the Canadian, but mostly I was just curious about the outer and inner journeys. Here’s what I discovered . . .
Large Vistas and Small Spaces
Canada is vast. The province of Ontario takes two days to traverse by train, with nothing but evergreens and lakes flying by the window. Manitoba and Saskatchewan come next, all prairies and farmland. Then it’s Alberta, gateway to the Rockies, which are so much bigger than my east coast existence prepared me for. Across Alberta then into British Columbia and down through Washington, we beheld forests, mountains, and even glaciers of enormous proportions. Everything was gorgeous. It was hard to peel my eyes away.
And yet, the snug scale of train life was also a pleasure. Even though we’d packed lightly for the extended trip, we could only bring into our compartment the things we absolutely needed on the train. Comfy clothes, in layers. A few books and crossword puzzles. Toiletries. Travel mugs. The compartment provided enough nooks and hooks for us to have a place for everything. It felt like a small private room in a (gently rocking) retreat house. We could venture over to the dining car, lounge car, and dome car, but that was the extent of our world for four days. I was blissfully content.
In my last blog post, I reminisced about mornings at the Jersey shore before laptops and smart phones, when “I’d rise first, slip out of our room, brew the coffee, head to the deck, pray and/or journal, then get comfortable with whatever novel I was reading. Presently, the sliding door would open and there would be Mom, coffee in one hand, novel in the other.” Mornings on the train were remarkably similar, except I’d take the thermos of coffee I’d prepped the night before to the darkened dome car and pray while watching the train’s headlights illuminate the landscape ahead. Presently, Porter would slide into the seat next to me so we could watch the sun transform the pre-dawn sky together. It was a beautiful reminder of God’s slow and steady work, even in the darkness of our lives.
New Faces and Old Friends
At each meal on the train, we dined with two other people—but never the same ones twice. (Porter joked that it was like slow-motion speed-dating.) We met a fascinating assortment of folks from different parts of Canada and the US as well as France, Australia, and New Zealand. Some were on a one-week holiday, while at the other extreme was a couple nearing the end of four months exploring the US, Europe, and Canada without ever getting on a plane. Hearing their diverse stories threw me back to the matter of scale, reminding me just how big the world is, and what a tiny part of it I am. All those lives going on, all the time, unbeknownst to me. You know this; I know this. But the reminder was still usefully humbling.
We did manage to have a second meal with one other couple—but not on the train. Like us, Fred and Carole from France were disembarking for three days to explore Banff before riding the last leg to Vancouver. We’d dined with them on the first night and continued to enjoy each other’s company, so decided to meet for dinner in Jasper before re-boarding the train the next morning. Since then, we’ve exchanged contact info, shared trip photos via WhatsApp, and promised one another a place to stay should the opportunity ever arise. French friends—now there’s something I didn’t expect to discover on the train!
Bookending these rapid encounters with new people was quality time with more familiar faces. We began in Ottawa, staying with our Camino friend Jane (“Canada Jane,” to readers of Finding God Along the Way) and her beloved, Wayne, before taking Via Rail to Toronto to board the Canadian. After reaching Vancouver (a truly cool city where I’d love to spend more than a few hours someday), we took Amtrak to Edmonds, WA, where we stayed with my high school boyfriend, Chris, and his delightful wife, Tana. (Chris’ and my fond regard resurfaced after the drama of our Reagan-era breakup faded, and now everyone enjoys each other’s company. What a gift!) Finally, it was back on Amtrak to Vancouver WA for two nights in the home of Tom and Mario—a dear college friend and his husband—before catching a redeye back to Philly.
“That’s a lot of legs,” more than one person commented when hearing our itinerary, and they were right. It was eight beds in seventeen nights, not counting the non-reclining redeye seats (in which we slept very little). And yet, there’s nothing I would trade. The cross-Canada trip would have been complete unto itself, but how could we get that close to good friends and not connect? In each place, we experienced what I like to call The Grace of Pajamas, which I wrote about in a blog post last year.
There’s nothing quite like encountering sleepy friends over the coffee pot, experiencing their morning routines, cooking together, visiting the local shops that mark their days, accompanying them on their favorite walks or to their beloved place of worship. There’s a quality of conversation that unfolds over time, an intimacy that grows from the simple sharing of life.
What connected all those diverse trip segments for me was being present to each place, then approaching the next with curiosity and wonder. Again, there were matters of scale. From being pressed in a wildly diverse throng of people queueing up for the ferry back from Toronto’s harbor islands to savoring family photos in friends’ homes, there was so much life to notice and appreciate.
Unplugged and Recharged
So, what about that lack of WIFI on the train? Hands down: I am so glad I didn’t have it! While I hope I wouldn’t have been scrolling Instagram or Substack as all that gorgeous scenery flew by, the temptation would have been ever-present. Given no choice, I was happy to let the dang device be just a camera for the week.
And despite all the running around (something like 14 public conveyances, including trains, planes, busses and ferries) I am surprised to find myself fairly rested on the far side. We took a gentle weekend, then I flipped open the laptop on Monday, grateful to be able to return to work I love.
Whoever and whatever surrounds your end-of-summer days, I pray that you can be present to what is, finding beauty and grace where you abide.
Christine Marie Eberle 