GO WEST, YOUNG MAN: Photos from along the way

Day 1 - Saturday, April 21, 2012

I took only 16 photos while travelling from London to Toronto to catch the 10 p.m. departure of Via Rail’s ‘The Canadian’, the train that would deliver me to Vancouver, B.C. in about four days time, i.e., by 9:42 a.m. the following Wednesday morning. So said my schedule.

However, four of the photos from Day 1 tell a bit about my journey.

E.g., I leave London and familiar sites behind (e.g., I think that's Mr. Wilson’s barn, below) in the afternoon. While completing the first two hours of my 15-day trip I wonder if I brought along enough socks.

After checking my bags, I leave Union Station in Toronto and walk toward a restaurant recommended by my younger son. Thanks to Google maps, I feel I should be tucking into supper in about 10 minutes.

Make that 15 minutes. There are many interesting things to see, like the Flatiron building at Front and Wellington.

At virtualtourist.com I read the following: 

    

In 1891, the Goodenham family wanted local residents to recognize their success and the success of their distillery business, so they commissioned the family architect, David Roberts, to build them a grander office space. At a cost of $18,000, an unusual Gothic Romanesque structure was built at the intersection of Front, Wellington, and Church Streets on a triangular piece of land.

The 5-story red brick building was one of the grandest of its time, with 12-foot high ceilings, brass fittings, and the very first manually-operated Otis elevator in the city of Toronto. A walk-in vault was constructed to hold the Goodenham riches and a tunnel was dug so that those in charge could travel from the building to the bank across the street (which Goodenham purchased) without having to walk outside with large bags of cash.

[How interesting is that? Please click here to read more]

  

With all my riches hiding deep in my pocket, I look for C’EST WHAT? restaurant and pub, 67 Front St., and arrive just as my stomach starts to growl. Down a flight of stairs I hop, stopping only to read an important message painted upon a wall. I say, “Darn it! I might have to try a beer.”

And I do, then pay my bill, and arrive back at Union Station in plenty of time to board the train an hour early, as suggested by someone in authority. I easily find my upper bunk (the cars are numbered, as are the bunks, to prevent unfortunate encounters I bet), see that it is as suitable as can be, and hear the following PA message:

“Would all passengers please meet in the lounge for a glass of champagne and a few canapes, the best you’ve ever had.”

Sorry, I lie. Those exact words are not used. The champagne isn’t the world’s best, nor are there any canapes - whatever they may be - but I am soon sitting beside a fellow named Gus in the upper deck of a lounge car, sipping a drink I usually ignore (if an average IPA is in the room), watching Burlington pass by in the dark. Or is it Ajax? (I don’t care. It's dark out. I say, “Pass the champagne!”)

Within 30 minutes I feel as if we are really on our way. Within 60 I am chuckling to myself in my cozy upper bunk ‘cause I feel as snug as a bug. Before I drop off to sleep I wonder where we will be in the morning, and if I'll get to visit Hornepayne in Northern Ontario.

[Photos by G.Harrison]

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Please click here to read “GO WEST, YOUNG MAN”: Chasing my dad Part 3