Jasper, Bear’s Paw, episode 3 … out on the tracks, in full view of the mountains, with a freshly-baked cinnamon bun.
I’m in an art deco postcard scene, as verified in the railway station waiting room, where me and a mob are waiting for the Rupert Rocket to pull in at the platform.
Today I am one in ten – the sum total of all passengers in Touring class, for the final leg of my train journey across the whole of Canada.
And three of them are here by mistake … a booking error.
The ten of us, doing what we want in the panoramic tourer with the glass roof; with the run of the park car and the private bar with the bullet lounge behind us, exclusively ours.
First, lunch in the Rockies … a moving feast of pre-prepared meals and pre-recorded welcomes, as we speed past the mountain scenery with nothing but road and lakes between us.
It doesn’t take long to meet up with an oncoming freighter, sidelining us into the first of many lengthy waits.
I take an early afternoon beer, and hit the top deck, for the elevated views over the train carriages.
When we’re moving again, we’re visiting Dunster, McBride, the Gigglin’ Grizzly, a ranch, Wahoo Enterprises, the red vintage train proclaiming CNR as ‘Serves all Canada’.
As the epic scenery and remote communities roll by, we relax into our journey and our pre-dinner drinks.
Happiness shared is happiness squared; mine is divided equally between a tin of craft ale and a bag of salted peanuts.
When we stumble across a bear by the side of the tracks, Kendra – one of the employees – is perhaps the most excited.
The train draws to a halt. Not for freight traffic this time; solely so that us tourists can catch a glimpse of the marauding wildlife.
Louise the passenger manager is non-plussed … perhaps this is wallpaper for her, is my thought.
Later, when we stop somewhere for another freight train delay, Megan is selling canoeing or kayaking or paddle-boarding to me, with Joe of Prince Rupert.
This all falls on deaf ears, although I smile politely all the same.
Difficult to escape when I’m off the train, in the middle of nowhere with no-one but bears, the Group of Seven (plus the three who shouldn’t be here) and an overbooked economy contingent (some on the roof).
I meet Pierre and his daughter from Brussels on the tracks, travelling across Canada – constantly being delayed everywhere they go.
A four hour delay stuck on a road due to an accident ahead; a 90 minute wait for the Lake Louise shuttle bus. And now this.
Exasperated, they start walking.
After a half hour of dead time, trackside, we’re finally allowed back onto the Rupert Rocket, where a civilised dinner follows shortly afterwards.
Salad, beef pot roast, lemon tart.
I’m offered a glass of wine, which is politely declined. I ask if can take a beer instead … which meets with much eyebrow raising and some debate – as though refusing wine is a minor offence.
The outcome being that I can have the Canadian swill, yes; but no craft ale, none of the good stuff.
Hey, I take what I can get.
Arriving late into Lheidli T’Enneh, where the party scatters and everyone goes their separate ways.
This is our own ill-advised bid to become people of the confluence.
Running up and down the grid-format streets, being closely followed by brightly-coloured bears, some of whom go by the stage name Prince George … waving or shaking a paw, I’m unsure.
I scarper north to a business hotel, to end up in a room with a state-of-the-art toilet way more technologically advanced than my tired mind / tired behind can comprehend.
The instructions are lost in translation … I just want to flush the damn thing!
It’s all I can do to retreat downtown, past more brightly-coloured bears, in search of a drink.
Wandering across empty parking lots, hunting down a late-evening beer, and of course I end up in a scene from Crossroads.
To find myself sat on the outdoor decking, in the fading light of a warm summer night, wondering … how did I get here?
An Outside World 