I have spent the past two days on a train. But not just any train. The Rocky Mountaineer is the most remarkable train I've ever been on, and I've done the TGV, the Bullet Train, the overnight train from Helsinki to Moscow (back when Moscow was in the USSR) and the R5 Paoli Local.
First let me assure you I've taken approximately 817 million pictures, because there is never a blah moment. If there ever threatens to be a blah moment, visually, on this train, you come out of the trees and suddenly there are mountains crowding around you begging to be photographed, a surging glacial torrent below, sun breaking through clouds to spotlight an alpine meadow, cows posing serenely and the threat of a random moose up ahead on the right. It's almost more than a person who has been told all her life that Pennsylvania has "mountains" can withstand.
So, yes, there will be pictures, and you will -- you WILL -- say wowwwww. That's what I said, and I wasn't even sure what I was looking at, thanks to a cocktail hour that begins at 10 a.m. I told you this was a great train.
But for now, as once again it's nearly midnight and I have to be up with the larks (though not the garbage trucks this time, which I appreciate), let me just paint you some pictures with words. AT LAST, THE PHOTOS ARE HERE! SOMEDAY, MY PRINTS WILL COME ...
Starting with a phrase not my own that was stuck in my head like a piece of spinach between teeth for the whole two days: "The mighty rivers of British Columbia." Hardcore Monty Python fans will recognize that from the preamble of the Lumberjack Song. The rivers of British Columbia are indeed mighty, especially when swollen to slick creaminess by snowmelt. We privileged travelers in the Gold Leaf service category and Gold Dome coach got excellent views of several rivers while sipping, dining and gazing out the overarching windows of our rail car. For fresh air and guaranteed glare-free photography, we could descend the spiral staircase to the dining level and step out onto the vestibule, where occasional rain and the scent of diesel didn't deter dogged photographers, videographers and wildlife spotters from crowding the railings and getting hands and hair in each other's shots.
It's funny how even in the most idyllic circumstances, little things can frustrate you. Like when the perfect pristine vista would open up, I'd aim my camera, start to squeeze the button and tall, lush hemlocks or lodgepole pines would come marching along the riverbank and right into my shot. "Damn you trees!" I barked more than once. "Down in front! Where are the loggers when you need them?"
I'm not proud of it.
The service and food on the Rocky Mountaineer are both outstanding, and I was blessed with a very pleasant and sympatico seatmate -- see previous post. Joff, a Kiwi from Christchurch who can rattle off the Monty Python "word association football" monologue and also goose a balky laptop, saved my butt more than once and let me have his window seat for most of Day 2. Of course, I pegged him as an Aussie at first, because the accent is so similar and our car was absolutely bursting with Aussies. (Aussies and Brits seem to have made up a majority of our fellow passengers.) But he forgave me for that and for beginning the conversation with "I'm from Pittsburgh, and yes, those were my boys winning in multiple overtime last night" (Canadians are very interested to hear where I live, thanks to the playoffs), to which Joff replied, "I have no idea what you're talking about," so I accused him of being Australian.
ANyway, yesterday we chugged through the chilly rainforest along the mighty rivers of British Columbia (MRBC), spotting bald eagles, some outlined against the sky as if posing for currency, until we got up onto the Thompson Plateau, where the terrain changes abruptly into kind of a high desert look. Badlands. Scrub. Few trees, lodgepoles, sagebrush. It looked like the American Southwest, and I can understand now why Westerns are filmed in Canada. You want miles and miles of John Wayne scenery with nary a cell phone tower or interstate in sight, you got it. But the changeover from the cold, damp evergreen forest to painted, sandy rock faces is so fast, it's like someone stitched together the edges of two completely different and unrelated climates. Even the air out on the vestibule was dramatically warmer and drier.
We saw a couple of bighorn sheep, who weren't interested.
When we rolled into Kamloops, we were met by two men and a woman in matching Western wear (red shirts, cowboy hats, horses) who stood in formation and waved at the train as it rolled in. Our onboard attendants Candice and Leah noted that these people turn out in full regalia and horsalia to greet every arriving train. I got a better look at them when we got off to go to our hotels for the night, and they were all wearing gold name badges, though I was too far away to read them.
The horses' gold name tags, however, were affixed to their foreheads (harnesses, anyway), so I can tell you that the Kamloops welcoming committee consists of Beau, Maxx and Bonanza and the people they were wearing.
After a productive night at the Comfort Inn and Suites in Kamloops (I actually did laundry, which was a mercy to everyone closer to me than you are right now), we went back to the train for another day of mind-blowingly vast, majestic and unique scenery as we headed toward Banff and Calgary. The terrain and vegetation went back to the original theme, though we officially entered the Rocky Mountains and became surrounded by impossibly high, craggy mountains with snow-streaked peaks and turgid little torrents pouring off them. Creeks became milky with glacial mineral dust, and ponds and lakes became mirrors.
We saw a lone moose, reportedly a female. Then we saw a couple of black bears, possibly foraging for spilled grain along the tracks.
Never mind -- I can't do it justice. The camera can't either, but I'll show you some photos that will have you shaking your head and wondering if I Photoshopped them. In the meantime, I need to sleep off the Kokanee light beer and other festive beverages the generous attendants kept offering us. I leave you with a poem I wrote (not so much a poem as a hijacked song) that was read with great seriousness by an onboard attendant too young to appreciate its homage. Feel free to sing along and add your own "Oh she's ... etc." repetitions of the chorus:
Oh I'm a passenger, so give a cheer,
I ride on the Rocky Mountaineer!
I look at trees,
I eat my lunch,
I queue for the lavat'ry.
On Wednesday I left Kamloops
Headed up to Banff, AB!
Oh I'll drink orange juice but like free beer,
I ride on the Rocky Mountaineer!
I look at trees,
I search for moose,
I want to see a bear.
The vestibule is crowded
When I take pictures there.
Oh wear a Gold Leaf on the upper tier,
To ride on the Rocky Mountaineer!
I shoot through trees
At peaks and falls,
Bald eagles and ospreys.
I love a cocktail hour
That lasts for two whole days!
First let me assure you I've taken approximately 817 million pictures, because there is never a blah moment. If there ever threatens to be a blah moment, visually, on this train, you come out of the trees and suddenly there are mountains crowding around you begging to be photographed, a surging glacial torrent below, sun breaking through clouds to spotlight an alpine meadow, cows posing serenely and the threat of a random moose up ahead on the right. It's almost more than a person who has been told all her life that Pennsylvania has "mountains" can withstand.
So, yes, there will be pictures, and you will -- you WILL -- say wowwwww. That's what I said, and I wasn't even sure what I was looking at, thanks to a cocktail hour that begins at 10 a.m. I told you this was a great train.
But for now, as once again it's nearly midnight and I have to be up with the larks (though not the garbage trucks this time, which I appreciate), let me just paint you some pictures with words. AT LAST, THE PHOTOS ARE HERE! SOMEDAY, MY PRINTS WILL COME ...
Starting with a phrase not my own that was stuck in my head like a piece of spinach between teeth for the whole two days: "The mighty rivers of British Columbia." Hardcore Monty Python fans will recognize that from the preamble of the Lumberjack Song. The rivers of British Columbia are indeed mighty, especially when swollen to slick creaminess by snowmelt. We privileged travelers in the Gold Leaf service category and Gold Dome coach got excellent views of several rivers while sipping, dining and gazing out the overarching windows of our rail car. For fresh air and guaranteed glare-free photography, we could descend the spiral staircase to the dining level and step out onto the vestibule, where occasional rain and the scent of diesel didn't deter dogged photographers, videographers and wildlife spotters from crowding the railings and getting hands and hair in each other's shots.
It's funny how even in the most idyllic circumstances, little things can frustrate you. Like when the perfect pristine vista would open up, I'd aim my camera, start to squeeze the button and tall, lush hemlocks or lodgepole pines would come marching along the riverbank and right into my shot. "Damn you trees!" I barked more than once. "Down in front! Where are the loggers when you need them?"
I'm not proud of it.
The service and food on the Rocky Mountaineer are both outstanding, and I was blessed with a very pleasant and sympatico seatmate -- see previous post. Joff, a Kiwi from Christchurch who can rattle off the Monty Python "word association football" monologue and also goose a balky laptop, saved my butt more than once and let me have his window seat for most of Day 2. Of course, I pegged him as an Aussie at first, because the accent is so similar and our car was absolutely bursting with Aussies. (Aussies and Brits seem to have made up a majority of our fellow passengers.) But he forgave me for that and for beginning the conversation with "I'm from Pittsburgh, and yes, those were my boys winning in multiple overtime last night" (Canadians are very interested to hear where I live, thanks to the playoffs), to which Joff replied, "I have no idea what you're talking about," so I accused him of being Australian.
ANyway, yesterday we chugged through the chilly rainforest along the mighty rivers of British Columbia (MRBC), spotting bald eagles, some outlined against the sky as if posing for currency, until we got up onto the Thompson Plateau, where the terrain changes abruptly into kind of a high desert look. Badlands. Scrub. Few trees, lodgepoles, sagebrush. It looked like the American Southwest, and I can understand now why Westerns are filmed in Canada. You want miles and miles of John Wayne scenery with nary a cell phone tower or interstate in sight, you got it. But the changeover from the cold, damp evergreen forest to painted, sandy rock faces is so fast, it's like someone stitched together the edges of two completely different and unrelated climates. Even the air out on the vestibule was dramatically warmer and drier.
We saw a couple of bighorn sheep, who weren't interested.
When we rolled into Kamloops, we were met by two men and a woman in matching Western wear (red shirts, cowboy hats, horses) who stood in formation and waved at the train as it rolled in. Our onboard attendants Candice and Leah noted that these people turn out in full regalia and horsalia to greet every arriving train. I got a better look at them when we got off to go to our hotels for the night, and they were all wearing gold name badges, though I was too far away to read them.
The horses' gold name tags, however, were affixed to their foreheads (harnesses, anyway), so I can tell you that the Kamloops welcoming committee consists of Beau, Maxx and Bonanza and the people they were wearing.
After a productive night at the Comfort Inn and Suites in Kamloops (I actually did laundry, which was a mercy to everyone closer to me than you are right now), we went back to the train for another day of mind-blowingly vast, majestic and unique scenery as we headed toward Banff and Calgary. The terrain and vegetation went back to the original theme, though we officially entered the Rocky Mountains and became surrounded by impossibly high, craggy mountains with snow-streaked peaks and turgid little torrents pouring off them. Creeks became milky with glacial mineral dust, and ponds and lakes became mirrors.
We saw a lone moose, reportedly a female. Then we saw a couple of black bears, possibly foraging for spilled grain along the tracks.
Never mind -- I can't do it justice. The camera can't either, but I'll show you some photos that will have you shaking your head and wondering if I Photoshopped them. In the meantime, I need to sleep off the Kokanee light beer and other festive beverages the generous attendants kept offering us. I leave you with a poem I wrote (not so much a poem as a hijacked song) that was read with great seriousness by an onboard attendant too young to appreciate its homage. Feel free to sing along and add your own "Oh she's ... etc." repetitions of the chorus:
Oh I'm a passenger, so give a cheer,
I ride on the Rocky Mountaineer!
I look at trees,
I eat my lunch,
I queue for the lavat'ry.
On Wednesday I left Kamloops
Headed up to Banff, AB!
Oh I'll drink orange juice but like free beer,
I ride on the Rocky Mountaineer!
I look at trees,
I search for moose,
I want to see a bear.
The vestibule is crowded
When I take pictures there.
Oh wear a Gold Leaf on the upper tier,
To ride on the Rocky Mountaineer!
I shoot through trees
At peaks and falls,
Bald eagles and ospreys.
I love a cocktail hour
That lasts for two whole days!
8 comments:
OK, that's it. She's never coming back. They will never be able to get her off this train, much less out of a country which starts its cocktail hour at the civilized hour of 10 AM.
Sam,
Give that Kiwi some extra vowel sounds and he will be yours for life.
Neddy
That poem/song sings well to the Lumber Jack song! More cocktails for everybody!
Sounds like a lot of fun Sam!
I envy you.
I read your blog every day from home since edwards has blocked any form of blogs. (military domains suck)
Anyhow Can't wait to see the pictures! Keep having fun!
Great write-up Sam! It sure was a blast - Joff.
You saw an Osprey?
:p
Sam .. I promised on the train that we'd find your blog .. and we did. Folks reading it please note that the Rockies bit is all true - can't wait to see the photos.
(The other Burghers)
A big hello to George Howat, who is all the way from Edinburgh! Glad you found and liked the blog!
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