Train 14: afternoon

After a walk up and down the platform at Moncton, and a friendly chat with a few of the coach attendants who are working the train, I get back on board and soon after we're on our way again. The train slips in between the buildings of the low rise centre of Moncton, reflecting in office windows and passing lines of traffic at level crossings. It's another Monday morning, and I'm still on holiday.

The afternoon begins to slip by rapidly - we're bowling along at a respectable pace for much of the rest of the day, and I am furiously typing away on my laptop to take advantage of the time to myself. At some point that slips by unnoticed, we leave New Brunswick and enter Nova Scotia. We stop at Sacville, Amherst and Sackville Junction, picking up 'local' passengers for Halifax. It's a thoroughly enjoyable and relaxed way to bring my second last journey to a close. Truro comes and goes (with some attractive murals painted on the wall of the warehouses that back onto the station's platforms) and we're on the home straight, racing through low fields and alongside rivers and lakes. The landscape of this part of Nova Scotia is much like the British scenery I miss so much - gently rolling, and under a blue sky it's looking even prettier.

It's nearing 16.15 as we pass through Bedford. We're running late, and we're on the outskirts of Halifax. Since it's been three months since I last saw BMM, I'm packed and ready to get off the train already, but we slow to a crawl as the line brings us alongside Bedford Basin. Ahead of us are the bridges crossing between Halifax and Dartmouth, and just to the right of them is the gently rising hill upon which the city of Halifax sits. The rail tracks beneath us split and multiply as we approach the container port on the northern side of Halifax, and we pass dozens of multicoloured steel containers stacked high above the water's edge. A container ship is docked, and cranes are loading the ship for another trans-Atlantic voyage. Throughout my trip I've seen and been passed by hundreds of these containers, travelling across the USA and Canada by train. Now the trains have reached the end of the track, and the containers are being plucked from their wagons and lifted effortlessly onto the boat.

The VIA Rail station in Halifax is in the south-eastern part of the downtown peninsular. To get there, the railway line passes through a long and deep cutting down the western side of the city, and round the southern edge of town into the main sea port and railway station. So while I can see that we are have arrived in Halifax, we are still some time away from arriving in the station. The train crawls through the cutting, sliding beneath bridges that carry roads above us. We're too low down here to see the city around us.

After a few pauses, the sea port of Halifax comes into view on our right. We edge forward, and approach Halifax station.

Train 14: old versus new

Surprisingly enough, they've managed to get them to fit together. Since the 'Ocean' is now entirely operated by newer but less swanky European built trains, VIA Rail have managed to do some bodge-work with a welder and duct tape, and have adapted a new car to be able to attach to one of the elegant older stainless steel 'Park' cars. These vehicles are where 'Easterly' class passengers can meet with their Learning Co-ordinator, a specially employed member of the crew who explain the history of the route and places that the train passes through.

It does make a rather odd looking train though...

Train 14: morning

In retrospect, I let my normally attentive standards slip on this train ride. It is the penultimate ride of the trip, and I'm also on my way to see BMM in Halifax. So you'll have to forgive me for dozing through New Brunswick and only not noting anything of interest to share with you now. One definite advantage of this train, however, are the at seat power plugs, which are gradually being fittted to every coach car next to every seat. Although I travelled for most of my trip without my laptop, stopping off in Montréal this weekend has given me the chance to pick up my diminutive PowerBook, and I spend most of the morning writing entries to bring the blog up to date. When I left Montréal, it was barely up to date as far as Churchill, and I am able to bash out about nine thousand words en route to Halifax. There's no wireless internet to make the updating live, but saving the drafts to my computer still saves a lot of time later.

It's a warm sunny day outside: we approach Moncton, and I pack up my laptop to go for a walk during our extended service stop here.

Train 14: feet

Train 14: breakfast

After my first brief experience of New Brunswick (a new day, and the first of two new provinces...) on the platform of Campbelltown station, we are on our way again. I walk back two carriages to the restaurant car, where I have been told there's plenty of room for breakfast. The restaurant attendants are extremely welcoming, and are already joking and chatting with passengers. I'm seated straight away at a table for four opposite another passenger, a physician from New Brunswick. He uses the train to travel to Montréal frequently, often flying in one direction and then taking the train in the other. He explains that there is no better way to travel, especially with the schedule of the 'Ocean', which departs Montréal at the end of a working day and arrives back in his home town of Miramichi just after 10.00 the next morning.

My breakfast companion is just back from a holiday in Cuba. Using his hand-held computer, he proudly shows me a photograph of the beach he has just spent a week on in Varadero. I counter by opening my laptop and showing him the beach in Churchill, Manitoba, complete with frozen ocean. We evidently enjoy very different types of holiday.

For non-sleeper passengers on board the 'Ocean', breakfast costs C$10. It includes coffee, juice and a plate of toast, which comes a bit before my main dish of folded crepes with cheese, fresh fruit and syrup. Once again, these trains have had to be adapted for their new job in Canada. There were no restaurant cars in the original fleet, so sleeper cars were converted for the purpose. The only noticable thing about this conversion is that because the sleeper cars were built with fewer and smaller windows, tables have to be spaced out through the car to make sure each has a window. Food is prepared off the train and re-heated on board, although the quality of my meal was impressive. The crepes did not have the unnaturally hot tell-tale taste of microwaved food, and the fruit was fresh.

As always with my on board acquaintances, we talked of our trips and how we liked to travel. My dining companion was a French speaker, and it was good to be talking in French again. I fluff a few words and a few tenses, but I don't think I drop any clangers. Hopefully four weeks away from Montréal hasn't killed off the young French side of my brain. My dining companion finishes his meal and returns to his sleeper, and I linger over my empty plates to gaze out of the window. The bay is beautiful this morning - a gentle deep blue that stretches to the horizon, merging with the hazy sky once we have lost sight of the Gaspésie shore. The waiter refills my coffee and (on request) my juice, and I enjoy this sunny start to my day.

Train 14: Cambpellton, NB

Train 14: farewell to the Chaleur: Matapédia, QC

Needless to say, I am not a happy camper when I wake up for the last time. I might have managed four or five interupted hours of sleep through the night, and I give up trying when I left the window blind to see that we are slipping quietly into Matapédia. It's here that three times a week the 'Chaleur' and the 'Ocean' part company. There's a short pause in the station, while train 16 to Gaspé is unhooked from the front of our train, and pushed back into the platform besides us. For a few moments, I look enviously across the platform to the coach cars of the other train, which is made up of older stainless steel cars. Every person in coach class seems to be deep in sleep.

Outside, however, it's a beautiful early morning. It's just after quarter past five in the morning, but I change my watch forward onto Atlantic Time now to make sure I don't forget. It also makes it easier to justify being awake so early. Our train pulls away from Matapédia about half an hour late. The 'Chaleur' will leave a few minutes later, and ply the scenic rail line around the Gaspésie peninsular that now appears across the Baie de Chaleurs to our left. The bay is calm, and across the blue water I can see the thick forests that coat the undualting landscape of the remote Gaspé countryside. I think of a distant friend and mentor who is somewhere along that coast, and watch the water between us slowly widen.

I consider my bag of food for this morning's breakfast. I have one remaining bagel, and some odds and ends, but nothing that really inspires me to start the day. I decide to save them for later, and go back to see what the service car offers. As you can see from the photo, the service car is pretty well named. It isn't a lounge, it's a car when passengers are serviced with drinks and snacks. There are two flat screen televisions for movies, and during last night two or three films were shown to entertain the children and families who were on board. However, the lack of seating was a big problem, and when I came through at one point last night, I found most people standing to watch the films. As originally designed, this bistro was much smaller, but an office for customs officials (for the train's original use, travelling from England to European cities via the Channel Tunnel) was removed to make a bit more room.

The counter is open, and I ask what they have for breakfast snacks. I notice a man from coach class sitting down with a coffee, a pre-packed bowl of corn flakes and a horrific looking microwaved 'English' muffin (note to all Canadians: THEY'RE NOT ENGLISH). Nothing much grabs me. The attendant points out that I can go back to the restaurant car, if I like, which is just behind this carriage. This is the first time anyone has mentioned the restaurant car; all the announcements up to this point emphasised the service car and at seat service for coach passengers. So I decide to wait until we have left Campbellton, and will splash out one last time.

Train 14: tossing and turning

This is, to be honest, pretty bad. I know that problems are always exaggerated when it's the middle of the night, and when you can't get any sleep, but 'Comfort' coach class on train 14 is pretty dire. The fancy modern coaches are revealing all sorts of quirks to make it difficult to get comfortable, let alone get any sleep.

As on other overnight VIA Rail services, there is a blanket and a pillow for everyone in coach, but this time no amenity kit (eye mask, ear plugs etc). The lights have been dimmed since 21.00, but the real problem is the noise. Sitting near the centre of the car in row ten, I'm kept wide awake by the noisy air conditioning vents that are beneath the seats in the centre of the car. When I go to the back of the car to use the washroom, I chat again with the two ladies travelling to Moncton. They have managed to spread out over a pair and a single seat, but they're having problems sleeping because there is no door between their end of the car and the vestibule between the carriages; the noise of the train running over the track is quite intrusive here.

I return to my seat and attempt to fiind my sleeping position. This takes some time, because as I mentioned earlier, the single seat is bordered by two very hard and immovable arm rests. And while the seat reclines in a manner which prevents you from intruding on the space of the passenger behind you, the sliding base of the seat and the rising plenum on which the seat is mounted reduce leg room significantly - a big problem for lanky blokes like me.

I toss and turn a bit, using my own ear plugs to try and drown out the noise of the ventilation. But to be honest one pillow simply isn't enough... my neck isn't supported, despite the chunky shaped headrests and whichever part of my body is propped against the armrests needs some cushionning to stop it going numb. To top it all off, since this is the first journey in which I've checked in my luggage, I've usefully forgotten to bring any extra layers of clothing, and being dressed for Montréal's sunny weather (in just a shirt) I'm now getting extremely cold under the spell of the fierce air conditioning. The blanket helps, but there's always a draft somewhere that keeps me awake.

I manage to sleep a few times, never for more than an hour or two at a time. Each time I awake, I notice other passengers awake trying to get comfortable again. Some have cleverly discovered the sack of pillows at the end of the carriage, and have pinched a few more to make themselves more comfortable. Each time I check my watch, the hands seem to have barely moved.

This is going to be a long night...

Train 14: into the night

We're on time as we head up the busy line towards Québec City. The 'Ocean' doesn't call at Québec City, but after passing through the peaceful towns of Saint-Hyacinthe and Drummondville, we reach Charny at about ten o'clock. A bus shuttle operates between here and Québec City. There are a lot of passengers boarding both coach and sleeper cars on both the 'Chaleur' and the 'Ocean' portions of our long train, so we make several stops. Each time the train pauses to allow people to board, before pulling forward to allow for the next section of the train to take on passengers. Once the last section of the train has pulled into the station, we're allowed off for a 'smoke stop'.

It's dark when I hope down off the train and take in the fresh night air. I have to step away from the crowd of cigarette smokers who are clustered close to the train, but it's a warm night for the time of year. Our train stretches away in both directions - although I'm near the front of the Halifax portion of the train, the Gaspé train is ahead of us, and there's not enough time to do a walk along the full length of the train.

The Montréal - Halifax 'Ocean' is now operated exclusively by the newer 'Renaissance' trains. I've heard very mixed opinions about these trains, and one complaint is that they don't include any dome or lounge cars. There are three levels of service on board the 'Ocean' during the peak season: Comfort coach, Comfort sleeper and Easterly ('Alizée in French). There's a functional 'service' car behind the coach carriages and sleeper carriages, but it really isn't much more than a place for passengers to buy snacks and coffee and to watch movies on small and uncomfortable bistro seats. It's also very small, offering much less space for relaxing away from your coach seat during the journey. Although Comfort class passengers don't get a dome any more, a vintage stainless steel 'Park' car like the one that tails off every Toronto - Vancouver 'Canadian' is included at the far end of the train for passengers in Easterly class. It's fitted to the more modern train by means of a specially adapted Renaissance coach... much of this service reveals this hasty patching together of a train that wasn't designed for this job. It's very flash, but it's not in the same league as the older VIA trains I've been travelling on, which are much grander and more comfortable.

For passengers to the more remote Gaspésie, however, things carry on as normal. Ahead of our part of the train, the 'Chaleur' is formed entirely of older stainless steel cars. I would much rather be spending a night in coach class in one of their squishy seats... age isn't everything, you know...

The coach attendants call 'all aboard' and I hop back on board. I have one more night ahead of me travelling alone in coach class. We pull out of Charny, and I do my best to bed down in my unforgiving seat for the night.

Seen from a train: southern Québec

Train 14: The Ocean

So, I won't go into the details of my rest stop, but it involved butternut squash soup, Tremblay beer, Artic Power washing detergent and Dove body wash. All of those things had been absent during the last three weeks of my trip, and along with a relaxing night at home with friends in Montréal, I was able to catch up and recharge the batteries, leaving just one round trip before the end of my month long rail tour. Although coming home a week early might seem weak, it was on the way, and has allowed me to replenish my hand luggage with home made food and to re-stock my overnight bag with fresh underwear.

I'm back in Montréal's Central Station. It's Sunday evening, and the last trains of the day towards Toronto and Ottawa are leaving soon. The weekend is ending for many, as they head home from two days off with family and friends. Many will be back at work tomorrow morning. I, however, have another week left on my North America Rail Pass, and I intend to use it.

I'm here for the 18.30 departure of VIA Rail's eastern flagship train - the Ocean, to Halifax, Nova Scotia. Halifax will be the final destination on my tour. I have several reasons to make this trip, one of them being a job interview on Tuesday, and another (equally important) being my girlfriend. In fact, she's already there - having arrived by aeroplane from London Gatwick this afternoon. We have a rendezvous in Halifax before we return to Montréal on Friday together. So, as you can imagine, I'm very excited to be boarding this train.

Alongside me a line has formed for train 16, the thrice-weekly 'Chaleur' that runs from Montréal to Gaspé, on the beautiful Gaspésie Peninsular. Once a separate train, this service is now attached to the front of the 'Ocean' and will run with us as far as Matapédia, Québec. After we arrive there in the morning, it will be detached and will run separately along the southern and eastern coast of the Gaspésie. This train boards and 'departs' fifteen minutes before our train - in actuality it pulls forward from the station, and then reverses to be attached to our still stationary coaches, before we all leave on our overnight run up the south shore of the Saint Laurence river.

The friendly atmosphere has started before I've even boarded the train. I'm early at gate fourteen, having checked in my bags for the first time on the trip. In front of me for a short while is a amiable English ex-pat from Toronto who doesn't like flying. He's going to Halifax to visit an old school friend he saw for the first time in decades last year. I say that he was in front of me for just a short while, because it turns out from our conversation that he's in a sleeper compartment, and therefore in the wrong line. As much as I hate truncating an interesting conversation, I point him to the line of sleeping car passengers who are boarding ahead of us through another gate. We wish each other a pleasant trip, and he heads off. I check with the two women standing behind me that they aren't in a sleeper car (it's a good way to start another conversation) but all is well there. They're heading home to Moncton where they live. We talk about Montréal, and I confess my feelings of stagnation. We agree that it's a fun city to live in for a while, but that it becomes remarkably one dimensional after a while. I think that this trip has reminded me that I will soon have the chance to move on, and having criss-crossed the USA and Canada, I'm looking forward to settling somewhere else for the remainder of my year in Canada. Maybe this will not be the last time I board train fourteen for Halifax?

At about 18.10, coach passengers are boarded. We descend the steps in the centre of the grand hall of Central Station, and descend once more to the grim underbelly of the station. It's just over three weeks since I was here last at the start of my trip. And I still have to say that it's a depressingly dark station to start a grand journey from.

Our train tonight is modern and bright green - it's one of VIA Rail's infamous 'Renaissance' trains. These were bought at a bargain price in the late nineties from Alstom in Great Britain. They were designed and built for the unrealised night trains that were to run from London (through the Channel Tunnel) to Paris, Amsterdam, Dortmund and Frankfurt. They were imported to Canada and adapted for VIA Rail by Bombardier: the bogies were widened for the larger North American guage, steps were added for un-improved platforms and the trains were uprated to work through colder winters. The result is an odd looking train - narrower and smaller than others, but much smarter and sleeker than VIA Rail's older fleets.

Coach class is at the end of the long subterranean platforms. Disabled and eldery passengers have already been boarded with the aid of platform buggies, but the women walking behind me are finding it hard going with all their carry on baggage. I offer to help, but it's still a long hike.

Inside, the coach carraiges are unlike any other that I've travelled on, here or in Europe. There are two seats on one side of the aisle, and one on the other. The seats themselves are raised up above the level of the corridor by a plenum, which swoops up to offer passengers a continuous footrest and a deep space for hand baggage beneath the seat. Above each seat is a suspended luggage rack, which is used by the passengers behind - as you stand up from your seat it's directly in front of you. There are individual reading lamps, but the coaches are surprisingly bright when fully illuminated. I'm immediately aware of the very loud rushing sound caused by the air conditioning grilles beneath the seats in rows 7 - 10.

Being on my own, I'm directed by coach attendant's to take a single seat to one side of the aisle. That's fine with me, although I'd prefer to have a pair of seats to stretch out on. The car rapidly fills up, and that looks less and less likely. The raised seats offer a very good view through the window, but I'm already noticing the hard fixed arm rests on either side of me... these could be problematic on my overnight trip. The seats cunningly recline by sliding the base of the seat forwards and bringing the seat back down with them - these means the passenger behind isn't bothered when I choose to recline. A large folding table slides up and out of the chair in front of me, and the seats match up well with each half window. I have my own window blind too. The basic design is clever, but it's far from perfect, as I'm going to find out during my trip.

We're all boarded and ready to depart on time. I don't feel it happen, but a few minutes before we leave, train 16 is hooked onto the front of our train. Just before we leave, Amtrak's 'Adirondack' from New York slips into the platform next to ours. I wish any connecting passengers the best of luck... we leave just a few short minutes later...

Train 64: the afternoon slump

I’m back at Union Station by 14.40. I just have to pick up my bags from the baggage desk, and then join the line of passengers that has begun to queue for train 64. This is one of the fastest trains between Toronto and Montréal, so on a Saturday afternoon it’s a popular choice for people heading home after a trip to Toronto or who are going home for the weekend. Unlike on the ‘Canadian’, most of the passengers seem to be regulars. They’re easy to spot, because they display the nonchalance of someone who knows they don’t need to take their ticket out yet, and who don’t have the bright-eyed confusion of younger backpackers or travellers like me.

Boarding begins about twenty minutes before departure. We climb the escalator to the track, and are directed to our coaches. This train operates with assigned seating. A surprising number of passengers ignore their assignment, and then get grumpy when successive passengers tell them that they’re in the wrong place.

We leave bang on time, and our train of five or six carriages slips smoothly out of the station shed. I like to be more precise, but to be honest, I’ve reached my afternoon slump. After a short night’s sleep, and the best part of a day on my feet exploring Toronto for the second time, I’ve hit the afternoon brick wall. I kick off my shoes, and as the train picks up speed I curl up and recline the seat. If Amtrak is strongest in the north-east corridor of the United States, then VIA Rail is at it’s best here in the corridor between southern Ontario and southern Québec. The trains are fast, frequent and very popular. Going from downtown to downtown, there is no reason to fly from Toronto to Ottawa or Montréal. The car I’m in dates from the seventies, when VIA commissioned a project to build a train that would be called the ‘LRC’, a (bilingual) name for a train that would be Light, Rapid and Comfortable, or Léger, Rapide, et Confortable.

We’ve not even left Toronto behind before we’re flying along the smooth track towards our intermediate stops of Oshawa, Belleville, Kingston, Cornwall and Dorval. Through the suburbs of Toronto, we pass through deep clouds of mist that have rolled in from Lake Ontario, which we briefly see off to our right before heading in land. Then it's not long until we're racing alongside highway 41. It's satisfying to be passing cars again, even those in the faster lanes of traffic. These trains operate at up to 160 km/h, and soon the cars' tilting mechanism is engaged to smooth our passage round corners, and to make sure that the coach attendant can pour coffee without sending it out of the cup...

Inside, there's less room than the older cars that have carried me across the country, but the seats are comfortable and it's a pleasant environment to pass an afternoon. Muted colours and refurbished materials hide the age of this car. For passengers ahead of us in VIA 1 class, there's highspeed wireless internet that keeps your laptop connected throughout the trip. At the moment it's a pay-per-use service, which seems pretty daft considering the premium first class passengers have already paid (fares start at C$139 one way from Toronto to Montréal). I would like to see VIA Rail expand the service to all corridor carriages, and at least offering it free to first class passengers and accessible for a supplement to Comfort class passengers. Most of the laptops in this train are being used by students, so restricting it to first class doesn't really take full advantage of the technology that is now available.

I chat briefly with a teenager who gets in Oshawa and travels as far as Kingston. She's taken this trip many times before, and I'm pleased to tell her that is compares very favourably with the European standards of rail travel that I'm used to.

Once again, the sun sets in the west, and another day on my trip comes to an end. I drift in and out of sleep, and the train ride flies by. At just four and a half hours, this is one of the shortest trips of my entire tour, and to be honest it feels so short that I feel like I'm taking a local train.

Rain starts to fall against the window, and as the sky turns darker, we approach the border with Québec. I recognise the suburban rail stations of Montréal, and before I know it we're arriving at the airport connection station of Dorval, adjacent to Pierre Elliot Trudeau International Airport (or for the apolitical amognst you, Montréal Dorval Airport). Montréal approaches, and a one night layover in my adopted home beckons me. I've been travelling for just over three weeks, and I'm tired. I need a cold beer with friends, a hot shower (without friends), a long peaceful sleep in my own bed (with cats), and a heavy session down at the laundromat (with suds). The last part of my voyage is a roundtrip from Montréal to Halifax, and that starts tomorrow night.

18 hours in Toronto, ON

Toronto is my rest stop for less than twenty four hours. After arriving, I make a bee line for the TTC subway station that is adjacent to Union Station. Once again it is The Hospitality Club that has lead me to the door of Erika, yet another friendly and fantastically kind host who is able to give me free accomodation for the night. I arrive at during the unfolding of a particularly uncomfortable set of personal circumstances, but despite a very long day it's a real pleasure to be able to show up on her doorstep and have a really interesting and engaging conversation or two, before I collapse for the night on her air bed.

The next morning I offer Erika my sincere thanks and make my way back into town. I've got to get some wool for BMM from a small shop in Kensington Market, which I'm pleased to say I found by back tracking from my trip in January (and with a little help from Google Maps...)

I leave my luggage in Union Station, again for C$2.50 a piece... strange how certain stations charge for this service while others will happily guard items for free.

I use my three remaining hours to explore the markets just east of Union Station (well worth a visit, especially on the weekends) and then stop for a coffee in a friendly diner near-by. In the window is a poster which says "You can pay $5 for an Italian Coffee near-by or $1 for a coffee served by a man who looks Italian." I am happy to go for the second option. I plod up Yonge Street and find a branch of H&M which still has the decency to stock men's clothing. A few garments are dug out from the sale rail, and I find a new pair of trousers for the summer.

I head west to check a few small galleries and to see the new Sharp Centre for Design of the Ontario College of Art & Design (pictured) which actually came across better in the 'flesh' than I had expected. Designed by the British architect Will Alsop, it came in for a lot of criticism from those offended by the black and white tiled skin, multi-coloured legs and unusual spatial arrangement. 'Unusual spatial arrangement' meaning the way in which the whole thing is mounted six storeys above ground level, partly overhanging an existing building. I didn't like it when I first saw the images in the architectural press, but having actually walked around and underneath it and seen the rest of Toronto's architectural variety, I'm pleased to see a brave addition to the city's fabric.

I poke around, pick up some stationery from the adjacent art supplies store and check my watch. It's time to head back to Union Station to get my bags, and to get back on a train...

Train 2: Toronto

Train 2: into Toronto

I'm not the only one who is keen to get off. My English acquaintance decided earlier today to stay on board with her bike as far as Toronto to visit friends there. Her decision was made by the rain we were travelling through this morning. Now, of course, it's a sunny day, and as we pass through warm Parry Sound and Washago about half an hour behind schedule, she's regretting her choice. Card and number games are getting boring.

But there is hope on the horizon. The landscape has opened up into the hinterlands of Greater Toronto. We're running past highways and through suburban towns, picking up speed and rattling over more and more level crossings. I spy the first 'Go' train station, marking our arrival within the region served by Toronto's urban rail system. We are getting close. Soon we're racing under busy road bridges and through residential areas. The industrial units that are strung along the city's arterial routes begin to get denser and denser: more and more units are surrounded by fenced yards that cram old cars and shipping containers up against the tracks.

Our line suddenly descends into (or rather the land around us rises to form) what I think is the Don Valley. High rise apartment blocks gather close to the edges of this wooded valley, and I begin to recognise bridges that span the wide expanse above us, including one double deck bridge that carries a TTC subway line beneath the roadway. It's easy to spot because of the complex and vaguely elegant suicide guards that prevent anyone from jumping off this fifty metre high bridge. We're definitely back in the big smoke.

At one point we slow to allow a GO train to pass. Briefly our windows pass by, and tired Friday evening commuters exchange glances with tired trans-continental tourists. This ride from Winnipeg has not been particularly long, but I am feeling eager to get off the train because everyone else is: our entire train is reaching it's grand terminus. Some of my fellow passengers have been on this train since Tuesday night. I have re-packed my bags and I am wearing my coat, ready to jump off and descend into Toronto's underbelly to catch (ha!) another train to carry me the last few kilometres to a horizontal sleeping surface. What luxury...

The train line crosses industrial wasteland that is the process of being prepared for development. Toronto's massive rail marshalling yards are preparing for a new life, as condominiums and office developments lure developers and eager denizens to live and work in the core of the big city. A view opens up on our right, and suddenly I can see the silhouetted skyline of the city. A cluster of shining skyscrapers mark the culmination of mile upon mile of suburbs, while towering over them stands the unmistakable shape of Canada's most famous tall building - the CN Tower. I'm told that despite the altitude reached by the Petronas Towers, the CN can still lay claim to being the tallest free standing structure in the world.

Another 'Go' train causes us to pause just outside Union Station. Pushing my anxious face up against the window, I can see the dark train shed ahead of us, preceded by dozens of criss crossing tracks. We are so close, waiting on the threshold of our destination.

The train starts to edge forward, and we arrive.