The Rockies, the morning after, into Vancouver

The Rockies, the morning after, into Vancouver

This is the view that greets me this morning.

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The view from the other side of our train car isn’t too shabby either.

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The clouds hide the peaks, and it’s long stretches in-between glimpses of anything other than very raw nature.

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We cross over another train, this one ferrying freight, both of us on bridges.

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These guys are working in the very cold, in the snow, in a space perhaps 10 meters wide, between cliffs dropping down to the river and our train tracks. And they’re all looking very happy with their choice of office space.

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A battered police car drives slowly by, passengers in the rear seat. A good morning to all of you.

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A dog guards the family mobile homes and this interesting quonset hut. The only word that comes to mind is “insulation”.

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Carmella remarks about “our little shack by the river” :-)

I’m wondering from where this train car tumbled from, but I’m not surprised that it’s abondoned.

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Abandoned also are lines of phone poles. I imagine that fighting against the winter must have been a hard battle. Perhaps there’s fiber optic now dug along the train tracks.

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The snow is piled so high, seems so fluffy, I want to take a break and play in the woods.

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Carmella notices a waterfall, something seemingly impossible in a place so cold for so many months of the year. But there it is.

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More craggy peaks, shrouded from view by the clouds. Thoughts of snow camping come to mind.

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The cloud cover keeps me thinking that it’s early morning, but I notice that we’re almost at noon-time. From time to time the sun pops out, illuminating the peaks. Horizontal streaks of clouds, like frosting on an especially wonderful cake.

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About two hours out of Vancouver it’s obvious that we’ve left high-snow country. No more snow measured in meters. The hail has turned into rain, as seen from the observation car.

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About two hours out of Vancouver it’s obvious that we’ve left high-snow country. No more snow measured in meters. These fields are waiting for springtime, or something.

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By the time we hit Abbottsford the snow is almost all gone, swans are strolling the fields, and the crops are neatly lined up in rows.

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Rows of grapes are making wine as we pass by, with protective sheeting rolled up, ready for frost or snow or whatever grapes need protecting from. This sounds like a summer trip in the making…

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We descend further, into population (versus “civilization”). Logging is happening along the waterway. For the first time since we left Edmonton there are two parallel sets of train tracks. No longer must one train wait for another to pass on by.

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Carmella recognizes this bridge as the one between Surrey, North Delta, New Westminster. It’s humid here, really humid, like we’ve driven into a shower. Puddles on the ground everywhere. (Edmonton is very dry, in comparison.)

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After Janet comes into our train car with good news for Kevin (wearing hat, long story) Carmella awards Janet for her awesomeness.

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Janet announces that we’re coming to her favorite spot, the crossing of the Frasier River. We’re almost in Vancouver.

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It’s been about 26 hours, as expected, but running about four hours late. We’re ready to make up the lost time in seeing Vancouver, as we leave here the day after tomorrow in the morning. Go, go, go!

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