Banff

Posted on November 5, 2023 by Grace Lessageing

I wake in the comfortable Rimrock Resort Hotel, Banff, having enjoyed the best night’s sleep since we arrived to Canada. We are here for two nights, which means a day to explore the town, although we’ll be back.

This first look at Banff marks a transitional bit of our trip, as we’ve now finished the train journey, but is also a mini-break in itself, as we are booked to travel up Sulphur Mountain on the gondola. But it’s not until the afternoon, so we can get a coffee from the hotel’s coffee shop then get the shuttle bus, for which we have passes, down into Banff.

The bus takes us through to the centre, where we alight, right beside the tourist information centre. We’re thinking it will be useful to get some information on camp sites along the route we want to take next, although at this stage we’re confident we’ll have no trouble locating them and checking in. How wrong we can be! Inside the tourist office I find a detailed book of our route which does have sites, however we’re keen to get a road map, which proves impossible- and at no point during our entire adventure were we able to buy a simple, paper road map.

The woman helping us can provide us with a tourist map of Banff area though, which she does. assuring us that we’ll have no trouble getting into camp sites as high season has passed. How wrong she could be! She also sells us a can of ‘Bearspray’- apparently a vital piece of equipment we should not be without in the coming days. Again- wrong!

Thus armed, we get a look round at the town, which is small but very charming and also thronged with tourists. streets are all named after local wild animals, which are also depicted on pavement plates. Of course the main thoroughfare is lined with gift shops, the majority of gifts being bear themed. Bears are everywhere, on T-shirts, mugs, keyrings, ornaments, fridge magnets and anything else the Chinese could think of.

There is no shortage of places to eat and drink, besides which, a supermarket with a fine deli counter can provide us with lunch, since we’re not going to be eating in our, undoubtedly posh, undoubtedly expensive hotel. In any case we’d prefer to spend some cash in the independent places down in the town.

After a lunch in our room we set off up the road towards the gondola station, which just happens to be a couple of hundred yards away. We’re soon ushered into one of the cars as it swings into view and we’re off up the mountainside, the views getting more spectacular as we ascend. We can see our hotel below, the river and best of all, a ring of white-topped mountains. It’s a crystal clear, blue-sky day for such a jaunt. When we reach the top we’re guided out and can wander out on to the walkways which afford views all round. It is all beautiful- a pine clad, mountainous wonderland as well as sightings of cheeky marmots that don’t stay still long enough to pose for photos and dart everywhere looking for crumbs.

But there’s a limit on how long we can stay and soon our time is up. We return to the gondola and make our descent. Then it’s time to get back on the bus and go into town for a meal and a drink. The streets are still busy with tourists and there’s more to see- but we’re planning to return…

Grace is the alter ego of novelist and short story writer, Jane Deans. To date I have two published novels to my name: The Conways at Earthsend [https://www.amazon.co.uk/Conways-at-Earthsend-Jane-Deans-ebook/dp/B08VNQT5YC/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2ZHXO7687MYXE&keywords=the+conways+at+earthsend&qid=1673350649&sprefix=the+conways+at+earthsend%2Caps%2C79&sr=8-1 and The Year of Familiar Strangers [https://www.amazon.co.uk/Year-Familiar-Strangers-Jane-Deans-ebook/dp/B00EWNXIFA/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2EQHJGCF8DSSL&keywords=The+year+of+familiar+strangers&qid=1673350789&sprefix=the+year+of+familiar+strangers%2Caps%2C82&sr=8-1 Visit my writer Facebook page [https://www.facebook.com/search/top?q=jane%20deans%2C%20novellist%2C%20short%20fiction%20and%20blog or my website: https://www.janedeans.com/

On and On and Up and Up!

Posted on October 29, 2023 by Grace Lessageing

We’re up at five am after a sleepless night in the not-very-gorgeous hotel at Kamloops, to assemble for buses to go to the station to climb back on the Rocky Mountaineer passenger train. We are seriously tired but today we’re to be in the first sitting for breakfast, which will surely lift us. There’s nothing like a few calories to gee up a flagging body. We leave our luggage in the lobby, confident, now that it will arrive at tonight’s destination before we do.

Today’s journey promises to be much more dramatic, since we’ll be travelling to and within some of the very best scenery along the route.

While we are breakfasting- enjoying treats from the same delicious menu as yesterday- we rumble out of Kamloops station past sidings and rolling stock. Some of the engines here have snow plough equipment on the front.

Soon we’re back out into rolling countryside, which becomes wilder and more rugged as we progress, the hills becoming higher, the gorges deeper. Sometimes we cross a river on a spindly bridge, the open sides dropping away in a breathless swoon of steep drop.

At last we’re high enough for proper mountains and at last, white tops, clouds swirling above- the fringes of pine trees ending where bare rock does not allow.

During the afternoon- and following another gourmet feast of lunch- some of our fellow passengers succumb to a snooze and I find myself briefly snatching the odd five minutes as lack of sleep catches up with us. But the scenery is becoming more spectacular as we roll on and I’m reluctant to miss anything.

We’re near to a town called ‘Field’ when the train does a spectacular thing. In order to gain height and pass through the mountains, it must enter the mountainside and run up a succession of three ‘loops’ in the darkness. Each loop provides a little more height. Of course, we’re unable to see anything at all until the train emerges from the final loop, but we do get a brief glimpse of the entrance, below us as we exit the mountain. These are the ‘Spiral Loops’. What an amazing feat of engineering!

We’re much nearer to the snowy mountain tops now, the sunshine punctuated by some showers and we have the sense that we are really here- right in the Canadian Rockies.

A delicious afternoon snack comes around- a choice of salty nuts or chocolatey nuts and raisins. It’s a welcome treat when we’re flagging from tiredness. To descend the steps to the footplate feels much chillier now that we’re higher up. The afternoon is ebbing away and there’s late sunlight as we draw towards Lake Louise, where some of the passengers are to be disgorged. Lake Louise is a hot tourist spot- as we are to discover later on in the trip!

But we stay as the twilight descends and at last we’re slowing down for Banff, where our train journey is to end. There’s a last farewell from the four staff who’ve looked after us for two days and a welcome comittee waiting beside the tracks to pipe us in! Then we’re stumbling down off the train and up into buses again.

It’s dark and I feel stretched with fatigue. The bus is to take us to the Rimrock Hotel, which we’re dismayed to learn is up and out of the town. We’d been hoping it was near the centre and walking distance. When the bus pulls up, however, we’re given bus passes for the shuttle that makes frequent trips to and from the town.

At last we’re into the hotel, which is, even from glancing round at the lobby, a vast improvement on last night’s! Having found our vast, comfortable room and checked that our luggage is there, we go down to the lounge area and collapse into a sofa before ordering a bowl of fries and a drink- some soporific calories before bed.

Once i’ve showered I clamber into the huge, luxurious bed and sleep and sleep and sleep…

Long Train Running On and On

Posted on October 22, 2023 by Grace Lessageing

The Rocky Mountaineer is the only passenger train to run on this route- into the Canadian Rocky Mountains, but it is a very well rolled route for goods trains- and they are incredible. Sometimes we rumble past one coming the opposite way, sometimes we must pause for one to pass and, on occasions when the line splits into opposite sides of a valley, we see one from a distance, snaking along on the other track, These trains are huge chains of containers- up to 30 and can be 3700 metres long, taking many minutes to pass by. They are interspersed with two or three engines as they ascend and descend in a slow and stately manner. I wonder what they are carrying? Once or twice we pass one with open trucks full of coal- a slightly depressing sight!

Having breakfasted, we return to our upstairs seats and it’s not long before the top deck stewards are coming round to take drinks orders. Basically, you can have anything you like. The two British couples in front odf us, who have hooked up now are making the most of the largesse and digging in by working their way through the cocktail menu.

The landscape has become progressively wilder, although not yet mountainous. There are huge, tumbling rivers, hillsides coated with conifers, deep gorges- sometimes spanned by a spindly bridge. The waters are a deep, greenish blue and often churning with sediment. Sometimes, when the Rocky mountaineer rounds the bend in a cliff we get to see the front of it- an impressive view.

I’m up on my feet for some of the time, attempting photos, although I’ve discovered that photography is not easy on a train. At times I descend to the footplate at the rear of our carriage, which we are permitted to do, with warnings not to stick any part of ourselves out! But it’s no easier to snap views from here-

It’s early afternoon before we’re called to lunch, which is, again a culinary masterpiece. You have to be impressed by the quality of the meals being served from such a tiny kitchen.

The remainder of the afternoon passes with views, anecdotes from the staff, drinks and snacks and dodging about to try and photograph things. After a long day of clear skies, sunshine and great landscapes, as the sun begins to sink in the sky I remember that we’ve had a very early start and in spite of sitting around most of the time we’re feeling weary.

We roll into Kamloops. It’s getting dark- and late as we clamber off on to the tarmac at Kamloops Station and on to buses. We’re not going to be seeing anything of the town due to the late hour. We’re bussed up and around into an area where there are some hotels then the coaches begin to pull in and disgorge passengers. We arrive to ours. One of the great things about the Rocky Mountaineer is that your luggage arrives independently [by road] and is placed in your room, ready for your arrival. There is no checking in, so we can get our key and go directly there. This is easier said than done, though, as finding the way there is tricky in our [by now] addled state.

In spite of not eating an evening meal I’m too tired to eat, wanting only to shower and sleep, but Husband goes down to the bar in search of some sustenance while I shower. I’m not altogether thrilled with the hotel, since when I return to the bathroom before turning out the light there’s a huge lake in there, meaning I must use every available towel to clean it up. Then the sheets on the bed don’t feel crisp and nice as they should.

All this adds up to a sleep impoverished night- a night which will end at 5am in order for us to assemble in the lobby at 6am. Horrors!

Long Train Running

Posted on October 15, 2023 by Grace Lessageing

Our bus pulls into Vancouver station, along with the rest of the coach convoy. But there’s no platform. We’re facing the tracks, upon which sits a magnificent, gleaming, golden train, its tall carriages stretching both ways as far as the eye can see. In spite of the early hour and my tiredness I feel a frisson of excitement to see it, this iconic train: The Rocky Mountaineer. This is to be our conveyance for two whole days.

On leaving the bus, we must locate our carriage- marked on our boarding cards. Outside each, tall, double-decker carriage there are two stewards waiting to welcome us by the footplate and we must clamber up the iron steps to enter the ground floor. Inside, looking along the carriage, there is a panelled ante room lined with sofas and beyond, a dining compartment where window tables are set for four with pristine white tablecloths and gleaming cutlery. It’s a heartening sight!

There’s a semi-spiral set of stairs up to the seating area, reminding me of the double decker buses of my childhood. We locate our seats, which are large and comfortable. Before the train sets off we’re given information and instructions. There are four stewards in the carriage- two up and two down in the dining car. In addition to this there are kitchen staff in the tiny galley area, producing breakfasts and lunches. Each carriage is self-contained in this way- it’s a massive operation!

We move off, a slow rumble through the outskirts of Vancouver, past sidings and rolling stock, here and there passing elevated railway tracks, warehouses and retail parks, It’s not long before the first diners are summoned- and we must wait- except that while we are waiting, coffee and warm, delicious cherry cake is served to us, which revives me, although I’m hoping it doesn’t spoil the appetite for what is to be a very posh breakfast.

After a while we’re in the countryside, crossing a bridge over a wide river, a ‘skytrain’ winding above us, or following alongside the river. The travel is punctuated by snippets of information from the upstairs stewards, who regail us with stories and facts from time to time. There’s also an upstairs kitchen area from where drinks and snacks are dispensed, served to us in our seats whenever we like, however I’m not inclined to embark on cocktail consumption at this hour of the morning.

The passengers in our carriage consist of many British with a smattering of other non-Canadians; near us are an Australian couple, a German couple and a pair from a village a few miles away from us in the UK.

When we’re called down to the dining area we filter along to fill up tables. Besides the tables for four there are two odd tables for two, either side of the aisle. The German couple slide into one booth and we sit in the other. This becomes the pattern for the remainder of our meals. I’m a little disappointed not to be able to socialise so much, although Husband points out that the chatting couples are so interested in their conversations they’re missing the scenery and the sights- which is correct.

Breakfast consists of a fruit and yoghurt starter and a choice of main course, all immaculately presented and accompanied by tea or coffee and fruit juices. It is all delicious. Outside, the rolling countryside slides past…

Stanley Park and Goodbye

Posted on October 8, 2023 by Grace Lessageing

Our second and last day in Vancouver happens to be a bank holiday, although most stores and cafes seem to be operating normally, which is lucky- as I need to buy a raincoat. Once again we’ve woken at an indecent time, but on this second day we find a beautiful patisserie serving coffee and pastries, which sets us up for the day. I get the perfect coat, however the sun is out and the temperature balmy, so I am not convinced I need it [except that I will, later].

We’ve checked in for our next leg of the trip and the plan for this day is to walk to Stanley Park, a large area of parkland fringing the bay, around it and back. It’s heralded as a ‘must-see’ in Vancouver.

We need to be packed and ready to vacate our room early next day, to which end we return to hotel and do some preparing before we set off- as well as lunch, from the supermarket deli as before.

Leaving the centre of downtown Vancouver, the streets become leafy, the homes affluent and grand. The maple trees are shedding their leaves, producing a magenta carpet on the ground. We’re walking parallel to the waterfront, eventually arriving at the entrance to the park. There’s a wide lane next to the water, shared by walkers, cyclists, skaters etc. We turn left, taking care to avoid the pedestrian and cycle traffic. It’s busy! Near the entrance there are horse and carriage rides, as well as a cafe.

It’s a pleasant, green space for the residents of Vancouver. A few minutes in are the iconic totem poles, common in brochures of the city. Though they’re not authentic, First Nations’ totem poles they are fun and colourful.

There’s a lot more park, and it’s attractive enough, although there’s little else of great note. It has become very warm by now and we stop at a central cafe for a drink. We give the mini zoo a miss and turn towards home, as it’s quite a distance, this time sticking to the waterside until we reach the cruise terminal near our hotel, the Fairmont.

With an early start looming we opt to eat at the local pub, just along the road, then it’s back to the hotel bar for a drink and to bed.

I’m awake before the alarm, of course, which was set for 6am. We’ve to be down in the lobby for 7am, which we are- although not as early as everyone else, as the lobbly is full to bursting with luggage, luggage trolleys, hotel guests and porters. It looks like chaos, except that the guys mustering us appear to know what they are doing. We’ve only to show our boarding passes and our cases our whisked away. Will we see them again? I wonder…We join a queue for a coach, many of which are lined up outside the doors, then we’re allocated to one and clamber on. I’m relieved we’ve managed to be ready in time.

The coach moves on out into the city streets. Where is it heading? Ahh….that would be telling… [next week!]…

Vancouver on Foot

Posted on October 1, 2023 by Grace Lessageing

At Vancouver’s waterfront, seaplanes are taking off and coming in, giving short aerial tours of the bay. Strengthened with MacDonalds coffee and a pastry, we’ve opted to step out and wander in spite of the indecently early start brought on by change of time zone. The day started cool but as the sun gathers strength it feels warm and balmy. I realise I’ve one urgent task before we leave, which is to buy a raincoat, having foolishly left mine hanging in our hallway as I rushed out to the taxi to go to the station. But we’ll leave it until tomorrow, as I’ve no need of one yet.

The principal use of the quayside here is for cruise ships- mainly taking passengers to Alaska, as many of our fellow guests at the Fairmont are doing. Having looked at the terminal and front we turn along towards ‘Gastown’, an area not unlike Haight Ashbury in San Francisco, with characterful older buildings and quirky streets. Canada’s relaxed laws on cannabis use are much in evidence here, in the appearance of cannabis stores and in the aromas drifting as we walk!

It’s not far to the iconic gas clock, which blows a steamy whistle on the hour. The street architecture is older, the shops eclectic but with many cannabis outlets.

Buses here have racks on the front for bikes, which is a fine idea, and there are trolley buses, too, a sight I haven’t seen since my childhood in the UK.

We traipse around for a couple of hours. It seems a long morning, but of course it is, since we were up ultra early. As lunch time approaches we head for a supermarket we’d spotted on our first evening- just up from our hotel. It yields a wonderful deli which provides lunch. When we get back to our room I’m pleased to spot a fridge, so the guy at reception has been true to his word and provided one for my medication. Better still- we can store lunch items and beers in it!

Restored by lunch, we set off again, this time in the opposite direction and waterfront. Vancouver centre is almost an island. On the way from the airport, Pearl, our driver, had shown us Granville Island, accessed by bridge or a dinky pedestrian ferry, where food stalls cover a large area. Most of the tables, however are outside and the weather has turned gloomy and drizzly so we settle for a drink instead and decide to eat nearer home. The walk back is mostly uphill!

Later, we head back to Gas Town to find a resataurant and stumble upon an Italian bistro down some steps by the water. It’s cavernous and atmospheric and the food is delicious.

Vancouver- so far so good! We’ll see what tomorrow brings!

The Flight and the Fairmont

Posted on September 24, 2023 by Grace Lessageing

So, readers, it’s time to come clean. While you’ve been kind enough to visit Anecdotage and even, perhaps peruse the prose, Husband and I have been on far distant shores, in western Canada, touring part of the Canadian Rockies. This ambitious plan was hatched last year when we were thinking of big birthday [both] and wedding anniversary treats.

It’s a big trip. And I’m to discover that everything about this trip is big, including the Canadians themselves. This is first evident during our flight from Heathrow, when once we’ve boarded the Canada Airways flight to Vancouver [which is full] large bodies are squeezed into airline seats all over the place, not least next to myself. Husband and I are opposite each other with the aisle between- not a bad location for getting out etc. It so happens that the man next to me is, in fact British [from Devon] and very pleasant- even though he spills into my space. I’m glad of the aisle.

The cabin staff go through the motions on the 9+ hour flight but it’s clear they are air-weary, throwing out meals and drinks [drinks after the meal?] as fast as possible, unsmiling and bored. The food is terrible- some of the worst airline food I’ve ever encountered, but still…

At Vancouver the digital immigration is fast and efficient, the luggage not too long and soon we’re out in the arrivals hall where a smiling woman taxi-driver displays our name. Hooray! So far so good.

It’s a relief to step outside and sink into a taxi seat to be driven through Vancouver. The driver, Pearl is a fount of info as well as charming and chatty, sharing how much she enjoys British TV shows alongside points of interest. After the flight, and given that my home bedtime is approaching, it’s a lot to take in and I do my best to respond whilst also calculating the time!

The Vancouver suburbs, bathed in sunshine look leafy and well-to-do; streets lined with red maples, their leaves beginning to fall. Pearl tells us there’ll be some nice colour in the Rockies by now.

It’s about 45 mins in the heavy traffic but the tall towers of central Vancouver appear, shiny and reflective and contrasting with our hotel- the grand old Fairmont, an enormous brown edifice, then we’re plunging through a gap to an entrance [there are several] and stumbling out on to the pavement, grabbing cases, saying our goodbyes.

It’s all swish inside the lobby, with giant chandeliers and pristine marble floors. We stand in line to do all the form-filling stuff and at last we’re on our way to the room- up and up in the lift, along a corridor, along another corridor. The room is big and almost a suite- with a bathroom down a passageway. It’s furnished in huge, dark pieces and has a ‘fireplace’ of sorts. My first job is to stow my medication in the mini-bar, which, I discover is full of items and has not a cm to spare. OK. I remove a can from the door. Yikes! What have I done? The mini-bar has sensors inside indicating when items are removed! But it’s too late now. I insert my bottle and resolve to explain the dilemma at reception.

By now, though it’s still light and only mid afternoon in Vancover, it’s getting to the small hours in British time and we’re tired. Do we dare to get an hour or so’s nap? All advice is against doing such a thing, but we decide to clamber into the vast bed anyway and I’m soon asleep, to be woken by Husband after an hour. That’s all we’ve allowed ourselves. We shower and go out along our street, where it’s now twilight. It’s busy with traffic and pedestrians and there are bars and restaurants open, bustling with customers on this balmy Friday evening. A block or so along there’s a pub. Neither of us is hungry [even after ditching the filthy airline meal] but we go in, get a beer and people-watch a bit, staying as late as we’re able.

Of course, although I drop asleep straight away I’m awake at 2am and unable to drift back. We’ve both had enough by about 6am. We make tea [after a fashion, using tea bags from home and a water bottle for a teapot] and gradually greet the day. Outside it’s cool and we’re looking for a coffee shop nearby but MacDonald’s seems the only option- good enough coffee and a muffin thing.

We’re here for 3 nights and this is our first day- so best not to waste it sleeping!…

The Travelling Sofa of 2020

Posted on December 27, 2020 by Grace Lessageing

We must not complain. It’s been my silent mantra this year. Be glad we are safe, well and adequately fed, live in a lovely home in a pleasant place. Nevertheless this has been the first year for almost thirty years we haven’t crossed the water to Europe and set off, meandering with no fixed plans and half an eye on the weather forecast.

We have, in fact holidayed during 2020. Way back in February, in what seems like a century ago we took the plunge and went off on our pre-booked, long-haul, winter sun trip to Thailand, to Koh Samui. We deliberated, yes, worried, yes, took advice, yes-and then went, carrying face masks, hand gel and all the paraphernalia we have subsequently become accustomed to. It was tricky; hot, suffocating queueing in Bankok airport wearing masks, but now I look back and am so glad we braved it. Our ten days was wonderful, with no virus on Koh Samui, everything relaxed and easy.

In the summer we were able to get away to UK destinations in our camper van, starting with a cautious outing locally, down the coast to Osmington near Weymouth. We became more confident and travelled to Suffolk for a couple of weeks, looking at a part of the UK we are unfamiliar with. Later on we stayed in Cornwall, the sites busy but safe so that the trip felt almost ‘normal’. All these trips are documented on Anecdotage in previous posts.

We have not planned any travel for 2021. Unlike many, I’m not expecting a miraculous transformation of our viral fortunes just because it’s a new year. We are consistently [and annoyingly] reminded that ‘the virus doesn’t recognise Christmas’ so why should it then recognise that the date has changed?

Instead I’ve daydreamed, ogled at and imagined all the places I’d still love to go, as yet unvisited or fond favourites we’ve returned to many times. Here then, in no particular order is my list.

New to us

* Canada. We went to Canada for a few hours, once, walking across the border at Niagara from the USA. Perhaps we’ve watched too many snowy landscaped serial killer thrillers [including the excellent ‘Cardinal’] during lockdown, but I feel myself drawn to those vast frozen expanses and opportunities to see bears and whales. A rail trip through the Rockies would make a wonderful addition to a visit, too!

*Likewise, Iceland. Without the polar bears and whales but with hot springs and a chance to see the Northern Lights, perhaps. Scandinavia has been another source of serial killer TV entertainment this year, with Iceland’s own, bleak contributions.

*Santorini. I’ve visited many of Greece’s gorgeous islands, but have still to set foot on Santorini, with its towering cliffs and nearby volcano. I believe it does suffer from heavy tourist footfall but this does not prevent me dreaming about standing and taking in those views with a stunning sunset.

*St Petersburg. I may be basing my desire to see St Petersburg on screenings of films like Dr Zivago, but portrayals of this iconic city look impossibly romantic.

*Rorke’s Drift. I’d like to visit this site, famous for a battle during the Zulu wars, for personal reasons. An uncle on my mother’s side of our family won the VC at the battle, for defending the place [which was a hospital and stores]. He is depicted in the film, ‘Zulu’. I’ve little interest in safari holidays, but this is a part of Africa that tempts me. I’d also be excited to go to the Victoria Falls, of course!

*In due course, the USA may become visitable again, now that a sensible choice of president has been made. I’d love to see southern states and also to explore more of the East Coast.

Old Favourites

*The Italian Lakes. In 2019 we made a late summer trip to Lakes Lugano, Como, Iseo, Garda and Maggiore. Every lake was sheer magic, each with its own character and features. Each lake was a wrench to leave-until we arrived at the next. The lakes are like a siren call, with their beguiling sunsets and abundance of art. Let me at them!

*Croatia. A stunning, unbeatable coastline and islands. And Dubrovnik is one of my favourite European cities. Then there is Plitvice-a world heritage lake site with astonishing waterfalls, an unforgettable experience.

*Romania. Strictly speaking it isn’t an old favourite, as we whisked through on our return from the Greek mainland, but the brief glimpses we got made me long to go back and explore properly. Transylvania next time!

*South West France. We’ve spent more holiday time here than anywhere else, so much that there is nowhere from Bordeaux to the Spanish border we havent been! But it is beautiful and feels like home each time we go.

There are countless more places-places I only visit on my travelling sofa. I can’t complain. Until we are set free again I’ll continue to sofa-travel-and maybe you, reader can achieve some sofa-trips of your own? Have a Happy New Year in whatever way you are able!

New York 1997. Part 5. The Walk to Canada.

Posted on May 17, 2020 by Grace Lessageing

During the [albeit sketchy, pre-internet] innocent planning of our New York trip I’d felt sure that Buffalo would be the ideal stopover point for visiting Niagara. It turned out that nobody else ever did this. No single person stayed at Buffalo in order to take a trip to the falls. Except for we two-Husband and myself. We’d made an error.

But we were prepared to make the best of things. After all-we’d overcome the hurdle of having to forego our vehicle [see Part 1], we’d find a way to mitigate this current crisis.

Evening in Buffalo and the streets were deserted, a few pieces of garbage blowing around in a stiff breeze and some tumbleweed rolling down the road in contemptuous abandon. As we approached what could be the centre of town there were cinemas, bars and restaurants, but patronised by no one. We saw no more than 2 or 3 others in the town. We walked on and selected a bar, part of a luxurious hotel complex. You could be forgiven for thinking we’d walked into a dystopian future world where unwitting tourists were lured by aliens to be consumed later.

There were 2 couples in the otherwise empty bar. We ordered beers and watched the TV screen, where ice-skating was being shown. Husband intimated that he’d prefer to watch paint dry. Then 2 men entered and we got chatting. ‘So how come you 2 ended up in a place like this?’ one asked. My thoughts exactly. We explained and I asked why the town was empty and quiet. He shrugged. ‘Used to be a boomtown, but it’s all old industry and now it’s died’. His wife was Scottish and they’d be visiting Scotland in the fall.

We left the bar and walked back up the dead street, now neon-lit but no more lively for it. En route there was the sound of a rock band playing, practising perhaps? A crumbling, stucco-fronted house held the sign ‘The Roxy’ over its porch. The windows were dark. It was a club. Inside was a strobe-lit disco floor [empty] and a bar with a few noisy teenagers [mostly girls] and a loud, blond, gum-chewing barmaid. The girls shouted and argued-mostly for display purposes. We returned to The Lenox, having judged Buffalo to be a sad place.

Next morning we rose quickly and went down to reception. The receptionist rang us a cab and we grabbed a coffee. Back at the bus depot we had time for a ‘biscuit’ filled with bacon, egg and cheese and more coffee. We climbed on to the Niagara bus, which pulled out and went swinging and lurching off to the falls. The one hour drive was unremarkable, although I always enjoy riding through foreign suburbs where the more trivial, domestic aspects of life are played out. There were pastel-coloured timber homes, porches with swing seats, screen doors and all the sights we are familiar with from watching movies.

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At the falls bus station all went according to the new plan and we deposited our luggage in a locker before walking the 4 blocks down to the Niagara river. Then there was a modest sign: Pedestrian Walkway to Canada. Through some gardens there was a visitor centre which provided a map. There were tantalising glimpses of the river but as yet, no falls. Here the flow was fast and foamed into rapids, separating past small islands and rushing along, a dim roar in the background.

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We walked down towards the American Falls and there was a sudden cut-off point where the river appeared to stop in mid-air. Moments later the American Falls were in sight, water roaring fiercely over a precipice in billowing clouds of spray and creating a sunlight rainbow. We were awestruck, although once the Canadian Falls, the ‘horseshoe falls’ came into view the American Falls were forgotten. A few hundred yards down the road a semi-circular tract plummeting over a cliff. We’d need to cross a bridge to Canada to see properly. Our Amtrak train would leave at 1.30pm. We’d have time.

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We spent time looking from different viewpoints, cameras in hand, then walked back, crossed the bridge, through a turnstile, into Canadian customs for a passport stamp before setting foot on Canadian soil, with an increasingly dramatic view of both sets of falls.

Eventually we reached a place at the top of the horseshoe falls where the Niagara river thundered over the cliff in a pale green arc of froth and fell in a billowing spray below. Small sightseeing boats chugged, ant-like into the spray, carrying blue plastic-covered sight-seers.

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We lingered as long as we dared, until time ran out and we needed to get our bus, then our train, but we felt euphoric to have made the effort. We arrived to the bus depot with 5 minutes to spare, retrieved the luggage and boarded the bus to Buffalo station, where we had an hour to wait, there being nothing but a water tap and the surly ticket clerk.

We were to return to New York, retracing our route before we could set off once more to execute the final part of the plan-to Boston!

New York 1997. Part 1.

Posted on April 19, 2020 by Grace Lessageing

In these times where travel is reduced to pedestrian or armchair varieties, Anecdotage posts will not be related to current travel or even to travel plans, as who knows when or where the next journey will be?

But all is not lost, reader, because travel for this writer began long before blogging. And along the way, hand-written travel journals began to accompany the journeys, so it is to these journals that I am turning for inspiration, with a little modern history included.

To provide some back story, this first set of posts concerns a 1997 trip to New York, taken very early in Husband and my relationship-five months in, in fact. That the idea had hatched during one of Husband’s previous dalliances might have been off-putting was something I set on to the back burner, the exciting thought of a visit to such an iconic city proving a more powerful pull than retrospective peevishness.

We began by booking a ‘Flydrive’, meaning to augment the week’s visit by a drive up to Niagara Falls via Boston-a cunning plan, as we thought. In many ways this only serves to demonstrate that detailed planning of trips does not always lead to holiday perfection…

We packed, we grabbed our tickets, we took advantage of a friend’s offer of a lift to Heathrow airport, then we were underway, a brilliant flight taking us in an arc over Canada and offering some spectacular views below. This is something I’ve continued to love about flying, the fascinating bird’s eye landscapes, but while I indulge in this pastime on flights, Husband will always have taken the opportunity to sleep, arriving refreshed and ready for anything, while I will be wiped out and needing an immediate snooze.

Arriving to JFK and getting through we duly found our way to the car hire depot to pick up our vehicle. There it was that we discovered neither of us had thought to bring a driving licence. It was a poignant, wince-making moment. ‘Could my friend fax it through?’ I asked the po-faced staff member, and ‘NO’ was the reply.

Without our own wheels we took a cab into the city and to the room we’d booked at ‘West Side Studios’. The cab cost a hefty slice of our holiday budget, the driver was taciturn and spoke minimal English. Had we been armed with more research we’d have known that the airport is served by a subway straight into the city.

It was late evening and dark by the time we reached the north Manhattan block but having deposited the luggage we gamely struck out into the locale and found a jazz bar where a competent trio were playing live. By this time I was struggling to stay awake and Husband was up for a late evening at the bar. And, remember, we’d not long been an item. There is nothing like travel for discovering compromise.

In the morning we set out to explore Manhattan, using the subway and our feet. My initial misgivings of riding the subway were quickly dispelled. It was safe, clean and easy to use. We were only a few stops from Penn Station so everywhere was accessible. We walked the streets, marvelling at the perpendicular nature of the city and craning our necks.

We’d been recommended a ‘Circle Line’ tour on a ferry that circled Manhattan; a good way to start, except that New York was shrouded in thick fog. It was, nevertheless atmospheric and informative, though cold and damp. We stood by the funnel to catch its warmth.

Meanwhile, as we walked, subwayed and ferried our way around we pondered on one knotty problem. How would we get to visit Boston and Niagara now, without a vehicle?

Anecdotage

Views from the Descent

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