[This entry written by Geoff Sowrey, ©2002 Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC). Text used with permission of CBC. The opinions expressed within do not necessarily reflect those of the CBC, employees, affiliates, or subsidiaries.]

Day 13

Today was primarily a travel day. Awaking to the rising sun of the smog-filled sky of Toronto, I bade farewell to the VIA crew who had brought us from Winnipeg. It was time to welcome a new crew. Today, we also said goodbye to Jeannine and Peter, who return to Vancouver. (Peter, who has been sick for the last two days, has been uttering almost nothing but “home” since leaving Winnipeg.) We also gained a new person this morning: Trish, who’ll finally supply the support Cliff has desperately needed in Sports.

We already miss our Vancouver crew terribly. They were great people, who enjoyed having fun as much as we do. Our newer crews seem a little more green, a little more by-the-books. Maybe in time we’ll be able to break them.

During the night, VIA had attached a second train to ours — a new VIA Renaissance consist that we would tow from Toronto to Windsor and back, and all the way out to Quebec City. VIA is actively promoting these new trains, especially in the Southern Ontario / Southern Quebec corridor. At our next six stops, the VIA’s train will be promoted alongside ours.

We departed VIA’s Toronto Maintenance Centre just after 9:00am. We backed up east of the Mimico GO station, and began our first trip west. For the next 20 minutes, we travelled along a rail line I knew well — CN’s Oakville subdivision. Living in Oakville most of my life, and having taken the GO Train for more years than I can remember, I knew the line quite well. It was a different experience seeing it from the dome of a VIA Skyline car.

Richard Homme, the bassist from Frank Leahy’s band, was waiting in Oakville. Although we didn’t see him, he saw us. At least that’s what he told me in an email I got this evening. If nothing else, the fact that a well-known member of Canada’s musical and cultural scene will keep in touch with us is a sign of how well our team has worked.

Leaving the Oakville Subdivision, we entered onto the Dundas Subdivision. I’ve never been out this far on a train, at least in memory. I vaguely remember a day when my mom, sister, and I travelled to London on VIA to visit with my father, who was working in London at the time. I remember nothing of the trip itself. To travel the distance again was not only gratifying, but helped restore a memory long forgotten.

We zipped through London and entered the Chatham subdivision for Windsor. We thought we might arrive early — about 15:00. We thought we’d have lots of time for setting up and shuttling to the hotel (several of us were in desperate need to do laundry).

How wrong we would be.

My copy of the 2002 Canadian Trackside Guide doesn’t mention any sidings on the Chatham subdivision. In fact, there are a few. I know this because we sat in one for at least an hour. For no apparent reason. This had a few of our group a little agitated. But no more so than when we got to Windsor. Already running late according to our travel schedule, we were also pushing the limits of having the museum ready for its 18:30 show.

Then the real grief began. We first had to wye the train (that’s railroadese for turning it around). Not too hard — there’s a wye about four kilometres from the station. That was easy. But those last four kilometres took forever to cross. The slow progress was making us lose our collective minds.

Things got worse when we finally got close to the station. VIA detached the Renaissance consist, then backed our train in. (That’s actually the short version. VIA paid so much attention to their Renaissance train that sometimes I felt like we were being ignored.) We had hoped that we would be able to take our equipment off the coach car (also known as our office) before the rest of the train was moved to an inaccessible location. Next thing we knew, the front half of the train was pulling away.

After managing to quickly pull the train back in to remove our equipment, we proceeded to start unloading for the shows. We have two in Windsor: one tonight for VIPs, and another tomorrow for the public. As soon as we had enough set up to open the museum, we started to pitch tents for tomorrow.

We had hoped to set up tents, kiosks, and all the difficult stuff. We only got as far as tents. Rolling thunder and sheet lightning made us decide otherwise, and we packed it in after the tent flags were flapping in the stiffening wind. It rained torrentially on our way to the hotel.

While most of the others went for dinner, Stefani and I opted for laundry. We were out of clean clothes (I had a pair of swim trunks and a sweatshirt left). The hotel had one washer and dryer. Why hotels have only one baffles me. The Vancouver hotel had three! It also means you spend a lot of time waiting, which was exactly what happened to me.

Stefani beat me to the washing machine. No big deal — she offered to call me and let me know when she was going to remove her things so I could use it. True to her word, I got a phone call just as I hopped out of the shower. I hastily gathered my things and was just about to go out the door when the phone rang again. Some woman had decided that waiting in turn didn’t apply to her, and filled the washing machines with her shoes. I finally got in after the (rather odd) woman removed her runners and left. Cliff and Tracy started after me, and even popped in two more loonies when my jeans failed to dry completely.

Tomorrow is the full public event. Our fingers are crossed for good weather and nice people. Though nice people would be enough.

[This entry written by Geoff Sowrey, ©2002 Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC). Text used with permission of CBC. The opinions expressed within do not necessarily reflect those of the CBC, employees, affiliates, or subsidiaries.]

Day 12

Last night was long. I rode in the Skyline dome with Angela, Tracy, Roger, Cliff, Debbie, and Marc until we arrived at Oba. By then, only Angela, Tracy, Marc, and myself remained. We switched onto the Algoma Central, crossed the diamond and began our trip south. An hour later, I was the only one watching the train’s journey.

I’ve always wanted to ride the Algoma Central, particularly in the autumn. Sadly, it was not yet time for the trees to turn, and it was in the middle of the night. Yet I sat there, staring into the night, only able to see what the locomotive’s headlight illuminated far ahead of me.

As much as I hate to admit it, I think I was depressed. This group feels like a family to me, yet there are times I feel strangely isolated. I know I’m not being actively excluded — it’s probably me not being a CBC employee. I’m a contractor. Everyone else has the commonality of actually being there. They can talk about certain people, they can talk about places or events. I can only listen. I guess I’ll always have that outside feeling.

I retired to bed before I stayed up all night. The last thing I want to get caught up in is the spiralling dismay at a lack of a relationship or lose hope in the future.

I awoke at mile 54 of Canadian Pacific’s Nemegos subdivision. During the night, we were held up at Franz awaiting clearance to proceed. We were running late. Originally, we were to arrive at Capreol in the mid-morning. Now we were aiming for arrival in Sudbury around 11:45. That left barely an hour to set ourselves up for the event.

The delay had a benefit — we got to see more of Northern Ontario. Steam rose from lakes warming in the early morning sun. Trees grew impossibly from billion year-old rock. You could almost hear the call of the loons through the windows.

It reminded me suddenly of a National Film Board short called “A Rail Trip West”, featuring silent legend Buster Keaton. Although years since my last viewing, I could remember Keaton’s character climbing into a speeder (which was used to inspect rail lines) and travelling all the way to Vancouver. The movie fascinated me as a child, and ever since I’d wanted to travel the country by rail. This trip has largely fulfilled that desire.

As we got closer to Sudbury, the fog lifted and the clouds began to part. It was like coming out of a dream. All yesterday, we’d dreamed and rested. Now we were coming back to reality, and the purpose of our cross-country expedition.

Arriving for our updated time, we immediately proceeded to set up for our partial event. Having a platform made things significantly easier — we didn’t need an elaborate rig of boxes and shims as we’d had in Melville. In just under an hour, the museum, part of the Boutique, and the Information desk were ready.

People were already there. And people kept coming for the entire four hours. It was a steady flow, mostly of older people until the schools got out. People were nice, friendly, and happy to come down to see us. There wasn’t one disparaging comment the entire afternoon, even when we had to tell a family of four that we’d closed for the day, and were preparing to leave. This was the stop we needed.

Fairly early in, I decided I needed to get pictures of Sudbury’s famous Giant Nickel. Only problem was, I didn’t know where it was. So I asked the VIA station staff. One of them kindly offered to give me a lift to see it (the distance wasn’t easily covered on foot). I grabbed Daryl, since I was reasonably sure he’d want to get the Nickel on video. The three of us hopped in a car and off we went. The man, probably in his early 20s, was perhaps the single worst stereotype of male chauvinist pig that I’ve ever seen. I actually felt embarrassed being in the car with him. (Anyone who leans out the car window, while driving, and shouts “Hey baby!” while passing attractive women really needs to be removed from the gene pool.)

At least Daryl and I got footage of the Nickel.

CBC Radio was roaming around doing interviews with several of the crew. I was interviewed twice — once by a woman (whose name and radio station I now sadly forget), and once by the Points North show, for CBC Radio One in Sudbury. It was a short interview, and mostly about the ShowVote program. It was my two minutes and thirty seconds minutes of fame.

Five minutes before 19:00, we pulled out for our journey to Toronto. We sat, ate roast boar stuffed with venison (we somehow snagged one of the Silver and Blue chefs, who has spoiled us rotten since leaving Winnipeg — not that I’m complaining), and watched the scenery slowly slip into blackness.

Around 22:00, we started to gather in the Park car. The official intent was to play Pictionary. The unofficial reason was to say goodbye to the Service Manager who’d been with us since Vancouver, Jeannine. She had been our mother, best friend, assistant, and guide over the last 12 days. We were sad to see her go.

Presented with a token of our esteem, a book (which we’ll all sign), a hat, and a sweatshirt from the Boutique, we also indulged in a forbidden pleasure: drinking on the train. Jeannine joined in, even though it was more of a no-no for her than for us. We, of course, won’t tell anyone.

I eventually returned to the dome of the Skyline to watch our approach into Toronto. Soon, things became recognizable: the Oriole GO station at Leslie and the 401, the Don Valley Parkway, Pottery Road, the Bloor Viaduct, and finally, downtown Toronto and the CN Tower. It felt a little like home.

[This entry written by Geoff Sowrey, ©2002 Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC). Text used with permission of CBC. The opinions expressed within do not necessarily reflect those of the CBC, employees, affiliates, or subsidiaries.]

Day 11

And on the 11th day, they rested.

I awoke as the train pulled into Sioux Lookout, ON. This isolated town is the launching point for excursions into the north, and for sportsmen heading out for fishing and hunting expeditions. It’s also a divisional point on CN — we were again changing engineers.

Gerry’s father-in-law hailed from Sioux Lookout, and Gerry has some ties to the town. No sooner than we arrived, he dove out to find a church to which the family had donated stained glass windows. I sufficed with photographs from the train.

The train pulled out not long after I’d finished breakfast, on our way to the next divisional point, Armstrong. I took up residence in the dome for a while to watch the scenery before I realized I was about to fall asleep. I returned to my lower berth for some additional rest. At around 11:15, 139 miles further down the line, we pulled in for train orders. I felt more awake than I had in days.

The battle for the shower began about two minutes out of Armstrong. Ingrid, Stefani, and I all wanted in. Somehow, though I had been waiting longer than the other two, I ended up going last. There was probably some chivalristic thing going on, but it was probably that fighting over something that trivial only succeeds in making people angry.

[I should note that a couple of days later, I found out that I'm a hipocrite. Earlier in the trip, Emma and I had run into a similar situation. I can't honestly remember doing this, so either I was completely out of my mind -- a plausible situation -- or I was being a jerk. I jumped into the shower ahead of Emma after she'd declared that she needed one. How chivalristic of me...]

The day passed wonderfully slow. We talked, slept, ate, napped, read, rested, and didn’t think about what was coming next. It was a day spent doing nothing but watching relaxing scenery and goofing off. Our first true day off since we started two weeks ago.

I sat watching out windows. The scenery up here is gorgeous. “Ontario” means “Land of Shining Waters”, and it’s easy to see why. I couldn’t hope to count the number of lakes we passed between Armstrong and Hornepayne. The trees screened the lakes, a slow tantalizing reveal as we moved along. As I stared at the near-blur of trees, it became a kind of strange martial art.

Xen and the Art of Passing Trees. As the tree passes, look at its shape, it’s colour. How does it differ from those around it? Is it attractive? Is it happy? Does it look healthy? Would the tree be a good friend, or an enemy? As you contemplate the tree, can you see the forest behind it?

We arrived in Hornepayne around 19:15. Another divisional point, it still retains some remnants of its former railway glory: the coaling tower and an engine house. Here we expected to leave for Capreol, where I had hoped to take pictures of ex-CNR steam locomotive #6077. It’s a sister locomotive to the Rocky Mountain Rail Society’s #6060, one I work on as frequently as I’m able.

It seems fate, however, is not on my side today. A derailment on the CN line has blocked our exit. As of 22:44, as I write this, we are still in Hornepayne. Although the plan is not yet entirely clear to me, we are to continue to Oba, south to Franz along the Algoma Central, and then along CP to Sudbury. We completely bypass Capreol. #6077 will have to wait.

[This entry written by Geoff Sowrey, ©2002 Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC). Text used with permission of CBC. The opinions expressed within do not necessarily reflect those of the CBC, employees, affiliates, or subsidiaries.]

Day 10

It’s hard to say much about today that’s positive.

We could analyze the events of the day to try and determine what went wrong. The exercise would be fruitless and pointless, except to determine what not to do next time. Not enough space, too many people, combined with poor local organization and a train location that proved to be nothing short of a nightmare led to a disasterous show. We had a lot of happy people, but far too many unhappy ones — and they were usually us.

We love running this show across Canada. Sure, we’ve had rough times and stops that we didn’t think were great. But never before as this team been so entirely upset about trying their best and being told it isn’t enough. It was disheartening to be berated by patrons and even volunteers who don’t know how much sweat and tears that has been spilled since the start. It was enough for us to want to close down early and run screaming.

Although we suspected from yesterday that Winnipeg would be hard, I don’t think any of us thought that Winnipeg would be our Waterloo.

It all began just after noon, when the schools started arriving. From 12:00 to 15:00, we would run group tours (in other words, schools) through the museum. This also meant, of course, all our other exhibits.

The Boutique and New Media were in the rotunda of Union Station, along with Radio-Canada and a production set for a live broadcast starting around 16:00. It was cramped, but bearable. Throw in a few hundred children, and cramped becomes contemptible.

I remember being a student. I remember field trips. We were bloody murder on teachers. But I also remember having some serious strict discipline if we ever got out too far out of line. Most of the CBC crew remember that. Either we were being too critical, or a large number of the children who came were complete terrors. To the point where hidden keyboards were pulled out, computers almost hacked (we had to keep a very close eye), and children who almost ruined the Friendly Giant’s costume in the museum.

The chaos in the rotunda came nowhere near the level of mayhem in the back parking lot. Sports, News, and Children’s tents were under siege from a thousand hands, all wanting something. Few thank-yous were heard, almost no eye contact, and virtually no interaction. At times, it was like watching piranhas strip a body to its skeleton. None of the tents had volunteers. We were on our own.

Things went from worse to terrible. Apparently, one of the schools had disadvantaged children. On such child had anger issues. He hit Franklin, hard enough to crack the helmet inside the head. Luckily, the volunteer wasn’t injured, but the damage was done. Emma was beside herself — how on earth could a child like that be allowed to attend something like this? How Emma made it through the day without screaming (or a few stiff shots of scotch) is amazing.

By 15:00, we were all ready to pack up and leave. But people had already started arriving for the public event. We still had five hours to endure. We held hope that it was just the children, and that the public would be more understanding. To a degree, they were. But the temperamental individuals more than made up for the nice people.

Barely an hour into the show, one of the volunteers in the rotunda — an elderly man — came up to me and asked who ran the show. A bit of a vague question, I asked for clarity. He then asked who ran the museum. The answer was Ivan. The man offered a suggestion on how to improve things. My “Danger Will Robinson, Danger!” alarm went off immediately. I took a chance and asked what his idea was.

“Move the train.”

The man had a valid point. The train was parked in a very awkward location, making it difficult for people to get to it. But that was the best we could do — we didn’t have a lot of options to play with. Such was the nature of the site. I tried my best to defuse the man’s insistence, offering the thought that this situation had been addressed a lot in the last few weeks, and this was the best we could do. My suggestion fell on deaf ears, and the man pronounced that he was going to do something about it.

“Geoff to Julie, urgent!”
“Go for Julie.”
“I need you in the rotunda, ASAP.”

I never knew humans could turn such an interesting shade of red. Had Julie been a more predatory animal, say a lion, I’m sure she would have taken the man’s head off. He was encouraged to leave immediately. He lingered a while longer, complaining and pointing at me … but soon he was gone and it was one less problem to deal with. But when you’re having a day full of problems, one less problem doesn’t really do much.

Neil, Julie, and Debbie were the breakwaters against the hurricane of trouble. How they got through the day without either breaking down or blowing up I cannot fathom. I watched as one person decided to cut deeply into Neil, claiming false advertising when the tickets to the museum all sold out before she arrived. I felt for him. I can’t imagine how much that must have hurt.

In our larger venues, we give out tickets to the museum. This is to control the flow of visitors. We’ve had a few complaints about it — why don’t we just let people fend for themselves? The answer is easy: fewer people will get through the museum, and we’ll have more angry people who didn’t make it in. At least this way, we can manage the crowd, and let people know that they won’t get in.

Probably the single biggest issue was the local organizer, Raydene (or maybe Raylene … like it matters, we know it’s just a pseudonym for “Satan”). This woman was supposed to have organized everything in the area, so we could concentrate on what was going on. But she didn’t organize anything, it seemed. Volunteers disappeared regularly, didn’t show up when we thought they were supposed to, she didn’t allow for feeding the volunteers or provide water, and we heard things like this all day over the walkie-talkies, never hearding the expected responses:

“Debbie to Raydene.”
“Neil to Raydene.”
“Analisa to Raydene.”
“Emma to Raydene.”
“Julie to Raydene…” [said while spitting fire through gritted teeth]

As the day progressed, we started making plans for packing up. This was going to be a stash-n-dash. This was our shortest pack time, and has been worrying us since Vancouver. We had a short period of time to strike our sets and pack everything up. This concerned me a lot, because the New Media kiosks take a while to pack up. But our Fearless Leaders had a plan.

Sports, News, and Children’s tents would come down at 19:00, an hour early. At 20:00, New Media and Boutique would strike. The theory was that by 20:00, the other three tents would be packed, and everyone would help strike the remaining two. (It was also loosely necessary because of the live broadcast that went on right next to our two displays — we had to wait to do our packing job.) It gave me a bit of pause, but I put faith in the plan. At that point, faith was about all I had left.

The last two hours in the rotunda were the worst. All day, bright spotlights had made the temperature soar. Starting around 17:30, hundreds started to filter into the rotunda to watch the live broadcast. It started to get warmer. The small space caused further problems — everyone had to pack in tight. This rendered both Boutique and New Media almost inaccessible. This was both a blessing (fewer things to watch for) and a curse (couldn’t keep an eye on what was happening).

Just before 19:00, the radio chatter started. The tents outside were coming down, and instructions aplenty bantered back and forth. The mood over the radio had changed. Earlier in the day, it had been tired, distraught, even tense. Now it was driven, determined, and focused. The end was in sight, and everyone wanted out.

At 19:30, Debbie and I started to close down New Media. It was time to close out another ShowVote category. By 19:50, the six computers featuring ShowVote were off. We were disconnecting cords, wrapping up cables, and preparing for the imminent rush.

It was now really tight. The broadcast (now featuring Fred Penner) had shifted to the celebration, including the largest birthday cake I’ve ever seen. It was wheeled in right between New Media and the Boutique, cramming people against both booths. Although the broadcast finished just after 20:00, we had a serious people problem — people were leaving too slowly.

The rest of the team arrived, armed and ready to help. Tabletops were removed, computers packed, tables flattened. The screwgun arrived and the centre triangle came down. The monitor boxes contained within the triangle were rapidly filled with monitors, and the plasma screen packed away. Over at the Boutique, unsold merchandise returned to their respective boxes, taped up, and loaded on a VIA luggage cart. Within 30 minutes, we had taken down both booths.

Luckily, the crowd had filtered out when we started to haul things upstairs. When we’d set up on Sunday, the freight elevators were trouble. We were a little worried that they would slow us down, or worse, malfunction. Instead, they probably saved us a great deal of time. The process worked so well, we finished by 21:20, a full 40 minutes ahead of our departure time.

Neil, Emma, and Rose were on their way back to Toronto. None of them were leaving us permanently. Rose has a lot of business to handle, and will rejoin us in Windsor. Neil and Emma need to see their families, and tackle pressing issues. Both will return when we do our Toronto show on the 22nd.

I ate a dinner I originally didn’t want. I was far to stressed and tired to be hungry, but Debbie convinced me to eat. I took a table right next to CBC celebrities Ian Hanomansing, Diane Swain, Peter Jordon, and another woman who was a radio personality (unfortunately, I’m not well up on my CBC radio names). I was so tired I didn’t even notice they were there. It wasn’t until I heard Ian’s voice that I realized who was behind me.

We were exhausted, mentally, physically, and emotionally. We all needed showers and about two days’ sleep. We wanted to leave. We had to wait. We needed a new locomotive.

Our train has two diesel electric locomotives: #6403, which is our CBC-decaled lead locomotive, and #6412, a second VIA locomotive that’s mostly backup. We lost #6412 outside of Biggar when the crankcase exploded. (That’s why you have a backup.) We had to pick up another locomotive before tackling northern Ontario. It’s a long ride, and you don’t want to cross it solo.

Taking #6412′s place was #6449. It had come in on the #2 train the day before (eastbound Canadian), pulled off due to mechanical failure. Repaired, it was turned over to us. Once the both engines were fuelled, they were reattached and air brakes tested.

I was in the Skyline’s dome when the train started forward. There was a sudden overwhelming rush of relief as we pulled out of the station. While I had been excited to come to Winnipeg, like everyone else I was ecstatic to depart.

Almost instantly, people began to slowly unwind. Some went directly to bed. Others sat and watched the dark scenery pass. The train was quiet, save for the blats of #6403′s horn, and the clanking of the train as we rolled along.

[This entry written by Geoff Sowrey, ©2002 Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC). Text used with permission of CBC. The opinions expressed within do not necessarily reflect those of the CBC, employees, affiliates, or subsidiaries.]

Day 9

We arrived in Winnipeg somewhere around 05:00. I use the vagueness because I’m not entirely sure. I was quite tired, and still don’t know what possessed me to open the window and look. When I saw us arriving at Union Station, I returned to my slumber.

The sounds of activity eventually pulled me from bed, and into action. Though that was mostly due to my bladder. Unfortunately, Winnipeg was our first stop without honeypots (the large barrels that collected human waste from the toilets). We had to hike into the station and track down the bathrooms in there. Fortunately, Winnipeg’s Union Station isn’t like Toronto’s — no steady stream of passengers to see us so dishevelled first thing in the morning.

Breakfast soon woke me up, just in time to meet our new crew member. Today, CJ finished her time with us. We gain Debbie in her place. I am sorry to see CJ leave. Although we started off on the wrong foot, we ended good partners. I look forward to seeing her in Toronto. We’ve also gained a replacement for Enza’s position: Ingrid. In a way, I kind of feel bad for her — I hear a lot of “I miss Enza”. It’s not directed at Ingrid, but she does have a legacy to live up to.

CJ wasn’t the only person leaving. This morning’s breakfast would be the last for our entire initial crew (not counting [[CBC TV 50th Anniversary VIA Rail train, Remembering 9/11|Enza's departure]] five days ago). Today is the first rotation of personnel. Most of the VIA crew rotates out here, with only Peter and Jeanine carrying through to Toronto. Perhaps the most depressing part for many people is that the band is also leaving. Due to prior engagements, Frank has to leave us here. Frank, David, Paul, and Richard all want to stay on board, and at one point tried to rearrange their schedules to see where they could come back. We will see them again, but probably not on the train.

In commemoration of the crew change, we took a full cast photo in the rotunda, including the VIA staff. It was a sad affair, as we said goodbye to new friends and comrades. It’s been a great week — I can’t wait to see what the next weeks bring us.

Following breakfast, I took a wander around the station. Everyone I know from the Winnipeg area has been telling me for a while that I needed to see Union Station. They were right — it’s quite beautiful. Originally opened in 1911 by the Grand Trunk Pacific and Canadian Northern railroads, Winnipeg’s Union Station is a shining example of Beaux Arts architectural style. (And if you’re wondering, I got that snippet from a plaque hung on the wall.)

Of particular note is the rotunda. This large room has welcomed countless waves of immigrants and visitors to Winnipeg, it’s cavernous ceiling alluding to the wonders that await beyond the doors. Aside from cracks in the rotunda floor, the building has survived the years well. The cracks stem from the platoons of soldiers who marched through this station in the 1940s. Their combined weight and rhythmic step caused the floor to flex and break.

Also of note is the railway museum on Track 1. When railway traffic declined in Canada, Winnipeg was left with a mostly-empty station. (Toronto’s Union Station became a commuter rail hub.) The unused space was rented to Winnipeg Railway Museum. They brought in their vintage equipment including the Countess of Dufferin, the first locomotive in northwestern Canada. I know this because one of the VIA staff had a key to the door and let me in. I just had to be quiet and quick, so the museum staff wouldn’t catch me in there.

Today’s event was for Winnipeg CBC employees. A lighter load for some of us, it still required a full setup. This was the hard part. It was our first multi-level setup — the train is on the second floor of the station. Our equipment went either to the rear parking lot or to the rotunda, both underneath. It took nearly twice as long to set up as usual. I tried to show Debbie what CJ and I have figured out over the last week, so she’ll have fewer bruises. But with the nature of our layouts, things always happen.

The setup was far from perfect. It took a long time to get equipment downstairs, mostly due to a sudden breakdown of the freight elevator. This stranded Neil and Cliff for the better part of an hour, along with a cart full of equipment destined for the rotunda.

By roughly 14:00, the New Media area was complete, and it was time to break for the hotel. I desperately needed a shower. With the on-train services suspended in the station, and several hours of labour, I felt a little more dirty than I cared to admit.

Before we left, a small group of us took lunch at a hamburger stand across the road. Angela had sworn these were the best hamburgers to be had. They were tasty, indeed, and most importantly filled the hole that had since formed in my belly.

Again, our hotel was way out in the middle of nowhere. This isn’t CBC’s fault — I can only assume it’s Holiday Inn (when you get free rooms, you get what you’re given). We’ve had one hotel downtown: Vancouver. The others have been substantial drives from the train and from downtown. (Although in Saskatoon, we were reasonably close to good restaurants and nightclubs.)

Clean again, I returned to the station to explore a bit. I caught a cab with Daryl — he went for lunch, and I went down to The Forks. The Forks is old railways land just to the east of Union Station. Back in the Golden Age of railroads, this was CN’s yard in the downtown. Roundhouse, ice house, car shop — it was all here. (It’s now in the Transcona Yard to the east of the city.) The Forks is now trendy area of downtown with parkland, restaurants, and shops.

CN and CP had a great ability to always choose the best land in town. In many other cities, the abandoned land eventually came very expensive condos, golf courses, or sports stadiums. Winnipeg had enough sense to make it into parkland and public places. They even kept the old railway lift bridge — it’s now a stationary pedestrian bridge.

The event was dead. Cemeteries see more life than the New Media booth did. Sadly, the other booths outside and the museum were hammered with visitors. We assumed it was because the free food was out there. We noticed one thing that did worry us — the people seemed a bit testy. Western Canadians are general an agreeable folk, who are generally easy-going. These people seemed itching to take someone’s head off. We shall see tomorrow if that continues.

When closing time arrived, we didn’t pack up. Because we’re setting up in the same location tomorrow, all we had to do was turn everything off. The tents outside brought the expensive items indoors, and walled off the booths. Back to the hotel, a brief beverage in the lounge, and we were off to bed. We need all the sleep we can get. Based on how today went, tomorrow will be a long day.

[This entry written by Geoff Sowrey, ©2002 Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC). Text used with permission of CBC. The opinions expressed within do not necessarily reflect those of the CBC, employees, affiliates, or subsidiaries.]

Day 8

We’ve been on the road now for a week. It feels like a month. We started working together as a group 10 days ago in Vancouver. Then, we were a collection of small teams and individuals linked by a common project. In the last week and a half, we’ve grown into almost a small family. Our team is strong, almost to the point of being able to read each other’s thoughts. It’s caused a little trouble every now and then, but on a whole we’re quite close knit.

We’ve come to see the train as home — many people have welcomed their tiny berths after spending a night in some cavernous hotel room. The train is large enough for us to spread out and find a quiet corner. Likewise, we can also group together into a room and have fun as a group. It’s our home, it’s our office, it’s our museum and storage locker, and it’s our safety blanket.

After spending the night off the train, we were excited to get back to our home away from home. Too many nights away from the bed you know and love can be troublesome. With the schedules we’ve been keeping, stability is necessary. And with little time for relaxation off-train, we sometimes overcompensate.

That’s what happened to us this morning. The previous night had been a long one, and some of us were a little late to start the day. I awoke when my biological panic alarm told me I was going to miss the train. I leapt from bed at 07:34, did a rudimentary clean, and quickly changed. I was out the door by 07:45. I made it with time to spare, and took the shuttle bus with the rest of the group.

Others were not so lucky. Fred, our VIA representative, was actually late arriving at the train. Yes, this was the same guy who had reinforced the necessity to be punctual, on almost a daily basis. Unfortunately for Fred, this means an endless string of punctuality jokes for the remainder of his stay onboard.

We headed across the prairies to Melville, a four-hour trip. Originally, Daryl and I were to fly in a helicopter, so Daryl could shoot video of the train, and I could take pictures. (The big need was for video. I would have been a fortunate side-effect.) For some strange reason, all the helicopters are based in Melville. The cost to fly them from Melville, pick us up and take us back was just too prohibitive. It’s the second time I’ve almost had the chance to chase a train from a helicopter, but missed out for some reason beyond my control.

The trip to Melville clinched the desire to travel only by rail. I own a car, but use it only when I have to. I fly, because my family lives in Ontario and it’s too far for me to drive. I would take the train, but passenger rail service no longer goes to my home of Calgary (though many of the VIA staff assured me it will return next summer). But as I sat in my seat in the dome of our Skyline car, I started wishing and hoping for VIA’s return to the southern Prairies.

Melville is named for Charles Melville Hayes, president of the Grand Trunk Pacific railway in the early 1900s, which chose the site of Melville as a divisional point on its line. Hayes was one of the fateful passengers of the Titanic years later.

Today, Melville is still a divisional point on a railway, only now it’s the Canadian National. It’s roundhouse and support facilities are all gone, washed away with progress. However, the yard is still large, and locomotive crews change in and out at Melville. Tourism, however, isn’t quite as large a draw. (The CN station is closed, save for CN Operations, but the VIA station is still open.)

Parking on a siding next to the platform track, we proceeded to unload our equipment for a partial event. This was a challenge enough, though — the track sat high, and there was a significant slop away from the track ballast. It would take nearly every apple box (a small wooden box used for many purposes, including steps and supports) to keep things level.

At every stop we do, the technical crew has to assemble the stairs. This is how people get in and out of the museum cars. Normally, it’s not too big a deal. A little shimming here and there, and the stairs magically line up. But normally, we have flat surfaces. Even in Biggar, the ground was fairly flat. This required a lot of planning to even get the stairs erected, let alone stable. But the end result, as always, was a perfectly level set of stairs.

As with Biggar, people started arriving almost as soon as the train pulled in. We were officially open between 16:00 and 20:00. Melvillians seemed unable to wait. By 15:30, we were open for business in our front tent, and the museum lineup started to form.

The other line that formed was for bug spray. The field we were setting up on was home to a mosquito population equal to Toronto, and at least one grasshopper for each person in Melville. While the grasshoppers were enough to make a few people queasy, the mosquitoes would prove a far larger problem.

While the sun was out in full force, we had little to worry about. People kept arriving, checking out our front desks, listening to Frank Leahy and Friends, and visiting the museum. As dinner time rolled around, however, fewer people came out. At first, we thought it was just for dinner. But it wasn’t human dinner at issue … it was humans for dinner.

In the span of about a half hour, the mosquito swarm quadrupled. They hadn’t paid me a second glance for most of the day. Now it seemed they were thinking: “Hey, we haven’t eaten him yet!” Before long, those of us outside were in long pants, and arm-length fleeces with collars. It wasn’t helping much.

The bugs were so bad we closed early. Our official strike time was 20:00. Everything, including a complex stair configuration, was loaded by 20:20. Our departure time was 23:30 (our first window in the train schedules). It was enough time for some of the crew to find the local watering hole. I regretfully stayed behind to catch up on work.

I’ve decided that we’re doing much more than just the celebration of CBC’s 50th anniversary. That’s our official job. Unofficially, and more personally for the crew, we seem to be conducting our own little tour: the Trans-Canada Pub Crawl. Ever since Emma tried to find that bar in Kamloops, there’s been an overwhelming desire to hit bars and pubs in every town we arrive in.

They should do a beer commercial about us.

While waiting for our comrades to return, VIA’s on-board mechanic, Peter, offered me a chance to climb into the cab of our lead locomotive. The work would wait. Peter, like myself, is a railfan. The main difference between him and I is that he turned his hobby into a full-time job. It gets him close to the things he loves, and gets him in the doors of other similar interests.

VIA #6403 is our lead locomotive, and is the one that we decaled for the trip. It’s followed by #6412, painted in regular VIA livery. VIA will swap out #6412 in Winnipeg before we go across Ontario. It blew out a crankcase somewhere around Biggar, and has been useless for two days. That’s assuming the eastbound Canadian doesn’t get our replacement first — #6443 on that train caught fire around Edson, and has been removed.

I’ve been in the cabs of several steam locomotives. I’ve been in the cabs of a few diesels, including an early F7. But I’ve never been in an F40PH-2 (the workhorse of VIA’s fleet). It’s a newer locomotive (although already 25 years old), armed with a HEP (head-end power) generator.

Modern diesel cabs are quite simple. Aside from the obvious training needed to operate on a modern Class 1 railroad such as Canadian National, a child could use the controls. That’s assuming, of course, that they don’t play around with the electrical system. That’s a little more complicated. And very, very dangerous.

While Peter explained the operation of the locomotive (it didn’t take too long), the engineers arrived for the next leg of the trip. They didn’t seem to mind at all that I was in there. I took a snapshot of the cab, and then Peter took me through the engine room.

There four basic parts to a modern diesel electric engine: the wheels (with the electric motors), the cab, the alternator (which produces electricity), and the engine. I’d never been in an engine room for a diesel electric locomotive. I knew the engines were big. I just had no idea how big.

The floor of the engine room is lower than the cab. The engine is sunk in the floor. Yet the engine still towered above me. And it was noisy. The Who don’t have concerts that loud. And it wasn’t under load — going in there while underway without ear protection is a really bad idea. Leaving Peter to his job, I returned to the coach car to try and finish typing out profiles.

At around 22:30, Darryl set up his Mini-DV player to show a montage of scenes he’s been filming since we started this madcap adventure. The show has been just Daryl. He shoots the film, edits the film, and edits the sound. Originally, I was the one fingered to do the job. In hindsight, the decision to bring on Daryl was certainly the right one. I couldn’t imagine doing all that I am, doing all the Daryl does, and producing anything remotely as good as what he has.

When the movie preview finished, there was a quick presentation to Julie, Neil, Analisa, and Debbie. The four of them have been keeping this project moving smoothly, and they’ve all lost sleep as a result.

With that, we all retired. It would to be a long day in Winnipeg.

[This entry written by Geoff Sowrey, ©2002 Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC). Text used with permission of CBC. The opinions expressed within do not necessarily reflect those of the CBC, employees, affiliates, or subsidiaries.]

Day 7

Friday the 13th has never been good for me. Some say it’s just superstition. Experience tells me otherwise.

Today started at 03:00. For most cities, it’s an unruly hour. For Saskatoon, it’s downright ungodly. Nothing happens in Saskatoon at three in the morning. Except, of course, us preparing for an eastern broadcast. Julie and I whisked our way down to the VIA Rail station for a live broadcast with Colleen Jones. Luckily, we sort of knew where we were going. Aside from almost missing the turn off for the main road south, the rest was easy to find, even in the dark. (You can’t miss the grain elevator down there.)

While I would love to say that I got to be on TV with Colleen, that’s not the truth. Colleen is a one-woman show, and is perfectly suited for the job. You want impressive? Try reading off the weather forecast for the entire country while having it read to you through an earpiece and make it sound natural. I have a hard enough time relaying messages over the phone to people who don’t care what it sounds like.

So why was I there? Colleen wanted to review the New Media kiosks. This is my little jurisdiction. Paranoia, and a far-too-good in-depth knowledge of how computers behave told me that I needed to be there. Originally, I offered my services. Then I insisted that I be there. I’d rather lose a couple hours of sleep for sanity of mind.

I’ve never seen a television broadcast before, certainly not a live broadcast. It’s quite an experience to see how this is all handled with a camera operator, another person whose role I never really figured out, and Colleen. Julie and I were there for answering questions (off-camera, when Colleen wasn’t live on the air) and covering the technical issues. (During a couple of breaks, I whipped in for a few pointers.)

By 05:30, the show was done and we were on our way back to the hotel. My intention was to sleep a little while, do some work, and then prepare for our event. Instead, I rolled around for an hour, and ended up groggy for the whole day. In addition to that, I lost my cellular phone, my gloves, forgot to tell Stefani when our shuttle was leaving, and probably said a few things I didn’t mean to say because I was too tired to think straight.

In short, Friday the 13th was continuing its historical trend.

About the only thing that’s gone right so far is the journals. After wrestling a position on the hotel’s “office” computer (we’re without wireless access again), I managed to email my files to Toronto for posting on the website. Brenda’s decided to streamline the process a wee bit. Due to connectivity problems, we simply can’t do the “every day” posting we’d wanted to do. So instead of me sending templates, I’ll just send text and pictures, and let Elizabeth and Terri sort out the details. And that’s just fine with me.

When we arrived at the VIA Rail station, my booth was most set up. All we needed to do was erect an extra table for the paper ShowVote ballots and prepare a few configurations on the computers. We had ample time, and didn’t rush our last part of the set up.

The wind outside was terrific. All the tents were staked down. Dust was constantly in the wind (Bill S. wrote in his journal: “‘Saskatoon’ is Indian for ‘shit gets in your eye’”.) Many of the stand-ups had to retreat to the baggage car, or at least be tied to the tent poles so they wouldn’t blow away.

As usual, people were arriving long before we were done. This seemed to be a trend I doubt we’ll ever get away from. But it didn’t matter to those who came early. They seemed quite happy to wait for things to start happening. I love the patience of the prairies.

Our previous events had primarily been our show, with the odd bit of content thrown in by the regional organizers. In Saskatoon, we were now dealing with Radio-Canada (the French version of CBC), who not only occupied a significant amount of space, but also ran much of the live radio broadcasting. We seemed to have our first true CBC celebration — not just the train.

Guests arrived in a fairly regular flow. We weren’t hit with the surges we’ve received in previous stops. Our regional organizers were quite good in setting up other activities — like face-painting — that not only evened out the flow, but probably attracted people to stay in the station building, where the Boutique and New Media were located.

The face painters were amazing. I’ve never seen face painting like that outside of a couple Cirque du Soliel shows I’ve seen. It was an assembly line, where one person laid down the foundation, and another person marked the details. I think they had three lines going all at once. It got to the point where nearly everyone — including CJ and several of our volunteers — had painted faces. What really impressed me was finding out that they were all former street kids, who had been hired by the company, taught to do their trade, and are hugely successful. At one point, Julie even muttered something about wanting to have taken them on the entire trip, had she known about them.

The day skipped by quite quickly. Well, for me, anyway. I crawled into my bunk on the train and snoozed for a couple of hours, lest I pass out at the kiosks. (Not that it really helped much.) Despite this being our longest event to date, we arrived at the hour of 19:00 far faster than I had thought.

In all our previous attempts at packing, our best time had been around three hours. This was not only unsuitable for some of our needs, it would mean missing one or more of our departure times. But for the fist time, our striking and packing of the baggage car took less than two hours. It was reason to celebrate.

Neil, Julie, Analisa, and I tried to celebrate (after returning to the hotel) by finding either the VIA crew, or the rest of our CBC crew. This brought us to Overdrive, a bar a few blocks north of our hotel. We arrived at the front door, all donning some sort of CBC outerwear. When they tried to ding us for a cover charge, Analisa went to work…

Doorman: Two bucks.
Analisa: We’re with the CBC. How about just letting us in?
Doorman: What’s the CBC? [Yes, he actually said that.]
Analisa: Canadian Broadcasting Corporation?
Doorman: [Blank stare.]
Analisa: CBC TV?
Doorman: [Blank stare.]
Analisa: Hockey Night in Canada??
Doorman: Oh, you guys do that? Okay, yeah, you can go in.

I think if you looked closely enough, you could have seen Analisa doing the Jedi mind trick.

Once we bypassed the cover charge, we came to realize that we were all too old. This took about 20 seconds. The music was earbleedingly loud (and nauseatingly bad), the oldest person looked about 10 years younger than me (and I’m the youngest of the four of us), and we couldn’t find a single VIA or CBC person there. We felt like narcs wandering around … ‘course all the stares we were getting didn’t help much. We wisely abandoned the place and headed back towards the hotel. That’s when we found Fred, and we headed to our venue of the evening.Jax used to be a warehouse. In the years since storage, it’s probably been many things. The second floor is now Jax, a rather strange little nightclub. Strange because it’s gaudy. I think that’s also it’s appeal — people go to Jax to avoid the brain-vibrating noise of other clubs. Most of the walls are painted in near-atrocious colours, purely for the fact that at about 23:00, the black lights come on, and everything lights up. There’s nothing like a neon nightclub to set things right.

By 01:00, everyone who had left the hotel (which was almost our entire crew, including VIA on-train staff) were at Jax. Most had taken to the dance floor for their song of choice. (Neil requested “Crazy Train” before hunting down the Technical Crew at another venue not far away.) To say the music mix was eclectic is to say Frank Zappa was a little off-kilter. Destiny Child’s “Bootylicious” followed by Ozzy Ozbourne’s “Crazy Train” only to be upstaged by Eminem’s “Without Me” certainly does make the mind wonder.

I ended up leaving early. I have a slightly distorted sense of duty, mostly because I have to get these entries back to Toronto for publishing on the website. And hey, for 15 minutes of fame, I certainly will go that extra mile. It’ll probably be my only chance.

[This entry written by Geoff Sowrey, ©2002 Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC). Text used with permission of CBC. The opinions expressed within do not necessarily reflect those of the CBC, employees, affiliates, or subsidiaries.]

Day 6

Most Canadians have heard of Biggar, Saskatchewan. Well maybe they haven’t, but I’m sure they know someone from Biggar. It’s the home of Olympic gold medal curler, Sandra Schmirler. While I doubt that’s what brought us to the small town of barely 2,500, we more than happy to have visited.

Colleen Jones joined us this morning to do her broadcast. Because her broadcast is featured from 06:00 to 08:00 Eastern time, many of us were up at 03:30 Biggar time to set up stairs and access to the museum, turn lights on, and be available in case something is needed. Luckily, I was not up this morning. We’ll be pulling early mornings for the next couple of days (my turn will likely be tomorrow).

Although we were to start at 09:00, people started arriving at 06:30. We started early. I guess there’s not much to do in Biggar, and something like this attracts a lot of attention. By the time I woke up, at least 30 people had already toured the museum. We were such a large attraction that entire classes of children appeared in small school buses to view the exhibits. I wished we could have done a full event.

The kids knew we were coming to Biggar. They’d seen the information on CBC’s website and made plans for it. The interesting thing is — the town of Biggar didn’t know until not long before we arrived. Had the town known, so they told us, we would have waked that morning to a home-style pancake breakfast. While we loved the VIA food, there’s something to be said for pancakes. We turned like ravenous wolves on the management to make sure that succeeding towns knew we were coming.

But the major and the town council still showed up. I’m not sure if they’d found out we’d be there through “official” channels, or if they’d been asked to come down for Colleen’s broadcast. All I do know is that the mayor gave each of us pins and keychains bearing the town’s slogan: “New York is big, but this is Biggar”.

The town’s slogan is actually the result of a joke. An American survey crew visiting the town in 1909, after spending a little too much time in a tavern, wrote it on a sign. But instead of being offended, the townspeople rather liked the idea, and adopted it as their own.

Frank Leahy and Friends were in their element here. In most places, they have people who like the music, tap their feet, and listen. Here, the people participated. Frank even dressed up in a light blue plaid shirt and jeans for the occasion. Kids visiting from one of the schools even got the band to play the theme to “Hockey Night In Canada”. Definitely a different tune when played with a fiddle.

Due to the lack of activity at the train, I took the opportunity to find the Sandra Schmirler park. Asking a woman whom I thought was native to the area, I not only engaged myself in riveting conversation but also found someone to drive me to the park. It turned out that the woman and her husband were not from Biggar — they had driven over an hour from North Battleford just to see the train. (But they weren’t the long-distance champions. Some people came over six hours to see us.)

The Sandra Schmirler Olympic Gold Medal park is subdued. Somehow, I doubt Biggar nor Sandra’s family would have allowed it to be any other way. It’s a children’s playground. Biggar wanted a nice, safe playground that everyone could enjoy. It’s large. I wish I had a playground like that growing up. The park will serve many generations of Biggarites (Biggarians?) to come.

Biggar has got to be the most friendly place I’ve ever been. Everyone is happy to see you. And if you look like you’re lost, people will not only direct you, but offer to drive you to where you want to go without you having to ask. It’s difficult to say “no”. Walking back to the train was difficult. Not because it was far, but because I had to politely refuse rides from nearly every car that passed. Biggar’s hospitality is near-legendary, and for good reason. The walk back also gave me a chance to see small town Canada more closely. Living in places such as Toronto, Ottawa, Vancouver, and Calgary, I rarely get to see what rural Canada is truly like.

I walked down Main Street (missing the Biggar Museum, only because I didn’t know about it), taking in the glory of Biggar. Think I’m joking? Then you’ve never been to a small prairie town. There’s a calm, relaxing air about this sort of a town. You feel calm, and completely safe. These people probably don’t even have locks on their doors. They don’t know the troubles or the pressures of the big cities. That kind of peace is hard to find.

At the foot of Main Street is the railway station, originally built by the Grand Trunk Northern Railway in the early 1900s. It became a CN station when Grand Trunk was taken over, and used until CN abandoned its passenger service and VIA took over. CN closed the station, forcing VIA to a small “hut” next door, which served barely more for a ticket office and waiting room. In 1995, the VIA station was closed. VIA no longer serves Biggar. It was apparently quite a fight to get the train to stop there.

I found Angela and Tracy standing on the road in front of the station, holding one of our CBC signs. Apparently, we originally were to stop at the station, but due to logistics, ended up on the south side of the yard, next to a fertilizer plant. Tracy and Angela were directing traffic to the south side. But only Tracy was wearing her black CBC crew shirt — Angela was sporting the newest fashion craze: a T-shirt emblazoned with the Biggar town logo. The woman parked next to them told me I could find her back at the train, which was where I left my wallet.

While taking photographs of the old Grand Trunk Northern railway station (I love the look of old railway stations), I ran into my friends from North Battleford. Again, they offered me the chance to ride back to the train. Our train was on the opposite side of a very large rail yard, which I could only cross about a kilometre away. This time, I accepted. It was either that, or risk crossing the tracks. And it’s a big yard.

Biggar is a major divisional point on the Canadian National Railway. It used to be much larger, featuring a large roundhouse, car shop, and bunkhouse. Today, it’s a crew change location — CN maintains a newer modern bunkhouse on the north side of the yard. The roundhouse still stands, but today houses a turkey farm that processes 100,000 birds every year. (Luckily for us, it was empty for our arrival. We were told the smell is something to behold. The mayor had been extremely annoyed when he found out we were being sided downwind from the farm.)

When I returned to the train, the T-shirts were on sale. They featured two designs: the town logo, and a cartoon of New York with the caption “Big” next to a cartoon of the town with the caption “Biggar”. The daughter of one of the curators had made the design while a starving artist in New York. We bought most of her supply.

Eleven o’clock arrived too quickly, and time to pack up again. We wanted to stay around longer — Biggar was such a nice place, and we were certain we could entertain the entire town. But schedules must be kept on a railway. It was off to Saskatoon.

The VIA station in Saskatoon is in the south end of the city. On one side are a few houses (mostly industrial space), the other farmland. But the platform is large, and the station building available. Although we had no show in Saskatoon today, we did get an early start for tomorrow. It’s a seven hour show we’re putting on, and the less time we spend setting up, the more energy we’ll have.

Colleen wants to broadcast from the train again tomorrow, and wants to showcase the New Media set up. That meant we had to do a complete set-up so we’d be ready for tomorrow morning. Or rather, so Colleen would be ready. And I need to be there. I wasn’t really asked to be there, at least not directly. Funny thing about responsibility, though — it’ll get you out of bed at really early hours of the morning. I might not be a full employee of the CBC, but I want New Media to look good.

By 17:00, we had set up what we could and cleared out for our hotel. Showered and feeling better, several of us headed down the road to a railroad-themed restaurant, where we indulged in good dinner and great conversation. We started off strong, but towards the end we were beginning to drop like flies. Neil was the first to exit, nearly falling asleep onto his steak.

[This entry written by Geoff Sowrey, ©2002 Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC). Text used with permission of CBC. The opinions expressed within do not necessarily reflect those of the CBC, employees, affiliates, or subsidiaries.]

Day 5

A year ago today, North America’s security blanket was ripped away, and we were thrust into the global issue of terrorism. Today was a solemn day — one that Canada has been working towards for a week. Even before I left Calgary, there had been talk of “September 11th”, or “9/11″ as I’ve often heard it. Funny how the media likes to place “cute” names on something so tragic.

I wrote of the [[Reaction to September 11, 2001 (9/11)|event]]. I wrote how I’d seen people I’ve worked with for two years left in a complete daze, how little work we actually accomplished, and how I’d spent hours in front of the television when I’d got home, just so I could see the same horrific images over and over. Suffice to say, I had more than a few moments of pause a year ago.

Today is considerably different. No-one mentioned anything about today’s anniversary. It wasn’t acknowledged by anyone with the CBC or VIA. At least, not on the train. The broadcast media, CBC included, did do their part to mark the occasion; we did not acknowledge the CBC’s anniversary — we simply moved on with our day. I didn’t even really remember the date until later in the day; but I heard not a peep from anyone.

I know what you’re thinking: How could I possibly forget? As bad as it sounds, I was a little preoccupied with a few problems on my laptop that needed resolving. Remember the problem Daryl had? Just when I thought I’d had the problem licked, it hit me too.

I hate computers.

I had to get my computer fixed. I needed to get caught up in journals and photos to upload to the New Media group for the website. But with my system giving me trouble, writing was a significantly larger challenge. Especially with the looming departure deadline. This didn’t exactly make me a happy camper.

The process I’m currently using is one we’d worked out some time ago. I take a template, write out the text, insert the images, and then upload the files to the server to be seen. But editing the template has been extraordinarily difficult, and the upload to the server agonizingly slow. It’s taken me upwards of an hour just to handle this simple task. And with limited range on the wireless systems, I’ve been running quite franticly trying to get it done.

One of the things I had wanted to do today with my free time was to visit the Alberta Railway Museum. As I’d begun in Kamloops, I was going to make a go of doing as much historical rainfanning as possible. Given, I live in Alberta — Edmonton is about three hours away from my home. But you have to take advantage of situations when they present themselves. My computer, however, needed my attention. That kept me busy for hours, not only ruining my plans, but also setting back my publishing schedule for these journal entries.

Our official goodbye to Enza took place as we boarded our vans to head back to the train. It’s amazing just how much our team has gelled since we first met a week ago. I feel sorry for Enza — she wanted to stay on, but couldn’t spend any more time away from her job. (Like myself, Enza is not with the CBC.) I can’t imagine what I’d feel like if I’d had to leave early.

We left our hotel at 14:30. Having loaded the night before, there was little to do but climb aboard and settle in. I continued to wrestle with my electronic arch-nemesis until we were out of Edmonton’s wireless communications range. While I did lose out on the wireless connection, I did win the battle and restored functionality to my computer. That earned me my first break in the day.

The single largest problem the crew has when we’re on the train is entertainment. We often have long stretches of time between stops, and time before bed, with little to do. Some read books, some listen to music, others play games. Remember, we’re in a ten-foot wide, nine-foot tall steel can with windows. There’s not much in here, and for a generation brought up on television and living with Internet addictions, idle time is painful.

Tonight, we decided to do something different. One of the advantages of travelling with Frank Leahy and Friends is goading them into doing something. Tonight, we convinced them to lead a jam session in the Bullet Lounge of the Banff Park car.

A few nights earlier, Neil had passed me a CD. It was a little bit country, and a little bit rock ‘n roll. It was Neil — an album he’d recorded. At first, I didn’t even recognize the voice. He has a singing voice that should be selling records. Tonight was a chance for him to show everyone what he could do. The rest of us joined in on songs that we knew, and picked up on choruses that were fairly easy to figure out. And we could clap along without too much difficulty.

Naturally, Daryl and his camera were everywhere. He wanted to get as much of this on film as possible. But so did Rob W., whose old-school VHS camcorder is beginning to be a familiar sight. That’s not counting the dozen or so still cameras that popped flashes for the next two and a half hours.

The band did some music on their own, and sometimes included featured guests, including Neil, and two of the VIA people: Fred and Dennis. Dennis plays with a band in Vancouver, and has the most beautiful singing voice I’ve heard in years. Of Jamaican background, he regularly pushed “Frank and the Boys” to new heights by playing reggae and rock songs. There’s nothing more interesting than listening to “Brown Eyed Girl” being played with a reggae rhythm by a band that primarily plays fiddle music.

People slowly began to trickle out after a while, until finally the small handful that remained called it a night. Tomorrow will be another long day. Colleen Jones joins us for CBC Morning, we have an event in Biggar, and we arrive in Saskatoon tomorrow night. No rest for the weary.

[This entry written by Geoff Sowrey, ©2002 Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC). Text used with permission of CBC. The opinions expressed within do not necessarily reflect those of the CBC, employees, affiliates, or subsidiaries.]

Day 4

There was a neighbourhood outside my lower berth window. As we weren’t moving, I could only assume we had arrived in Edmonton. At first I thought that maybe we hadn’t completely arrived yet — the sound of airplanes flying overhead was misleading. Further investigation revealed that the Edmonton VIA station is across 121st Street from the Edmonton City Centre airport. It’s only used for small planes.

Our event would be from 15:30 to 20:00, giving us ample time to set up our tents and displays. Even then, people started arriving at 10:00. It seems that no matter where we go, people want to come early for the big show.

The VIA station has a large field next to it (for what reason, I don’t know). This was an ideal location for putting out all our equipment. The local CBC had already erected a large tent (for news broadcasts, a stage for the band, and for serving a free barbecue dinner). We filled in the area around it.

Our first injury came in the late morning. Bill, one of our technical crew, strained his knee. While not sounding serious, at first we were worried he’d popped it out. He was taken to a hospital where the injury was proclaimed a strain, and Bill was told to take it easy. There was a time when we thought we would lose Bill for the remainder of the journey. (And during take down in the evening, we really noticed Bill’s absence.)

I hopped constantly from setting up displays (I ended up leaving CJ being the only person setting up for quite some time) and doing user support. I needed to repair Daryl’s computer. Without it, he couldn’t edit video, and that would put him far behind schedule. While I was fiddling around with Windows 2002, I was also talking with technical support in Toronto trying to sort out why our wireless connections weren’t working.

I think I’m going to become a luddite. That way I won’t have to deal with computers any more. I hate computers.

While on the phone with nearly everyone in CBC’s IT department, we managed to find the culprit to our computer woes. (A very odd conflict between printer driver and the CD-ROM burning software.) Within minutes, Daryl’s computer was running again. Before I could solve the wireless problems, though, I was called back into the field to finish setting up the nine computers in the New Media tent.

More support calls. But this time to get the passwords to access the kiosk computers. Six of them had a rather annoying bug that prevented people from using our ShowVote application. An easy fix, but without the password I couldn’t edit the file. Then the Archives needed a small fix, which required another password. Unfortunately, that came too late to make this show. Next time.

Advertising had gone well in Edmonton. The field was full of visitors. For the first time, our tent was busy. Our volunteer, Rob, was outstanding. He worked almost every person coming through, managed to give away hundreds of pens and bookmarks, helped out countless people, and stuck around helping with take down. Rob even showed us a thing or two about giving things away — tucking a pair of bookmarks under the penclip suddenly meant we could dispose of even more bookmarks. We actually had to tell him to go home. I wish we could take him with us.

Line-ups were many. The museum line, like in Kamloops, was enormous. I don’t know exactly how many people saw the exhibits, but we estimate about 2,000 visitors walked through in the four and a half hours. The line for the free barbecue was even larger. At one point, there must have been at least 300 people waiting for their dinner.

The Lieutenant-Governor of Alberta, the Honourable Lois E. Hole, came out to visit. She was interviewed by the CBC, as were several other celebrities including Dakota House (of North of 60 fame) and Sharon Lewis from ZeD.

People kept arriving, right until 20:00. I felt sad for having to turn people away. But we needed to pack everything back into the train. Although we were staying in hotel, the train needed to move from the station — though for what reason I’m not entirely sure. Either way, we’re not about to leave our equipment outside all night.

The sun set, the temperature dropped, and the wind picked up. We didn’t get much of a chance to shiver — we were too busy paking everything up, and hauling it back to the train. The crew had to pull the lights not long after it got dark, requiring flashlights to make sure we didn’t miss anything. Soon, the field was (relatively empty) and all that was left was to put everything back on the train. That was right about when my left forearm started going numb. It wasn’t from the cold — I think it’s Repetitive Strain Injury. Having spent the last half of my life parked in front of a computer, I suspect my forearms are due for total seizure before too long. Add that with hauling a lot of heavy boxes and stands around for a few hours a day…

Finally, around 23:30, we broke for the hotel. We were all exhausted. Especially Neil, who had stayed up until 02:00 the previous night until the train was in Edmonton. He slept during the drive to the hotel.

Several of us started to gather in the hotel’s atrium to sit, relax, share stories and a few drinks. We ate pretty much nothing but peanuts. The conversation was lively, and even after a hard day no-one seemed to be tired — mentally, that is. The group would carry on until well into the morning; I headed to long before them.

Tonight, we bade farewell to Enza. She is the first of our group to rotate out. Enza was one of our coordinators and Jill of all trades. When we needed something done, there was Enza. She now returns to her life in Banff. Of course, we wish her well.