Bears on the Left, Ducks on the Train

by Anne Rothwell

‘Bears on the left,’ boomed through the loudspeakers from the train driver’s cab. Everyone rushed to the left and, sure enough, quite close, there were two black bears mooching around on the edge of the forest. We were on the Skeena train, which runs from Jasper to Prince Rupert in British Columbia. This runs westwards, further north than the expensive ‘Rocky Mountaineer’, but with scenery just as impressive.

Halfway through the journey, the train makes an overnight stop at Prince George, where everyone finds their own accommodation before returning to continue the journey the next day. A lovely couple from the B&B we’d booked met the train and took us back in the morning, armed with bananas and delicious scones the lady had got up at 5 o’clock to make for us before our early train.

We were staying in Prince Rupert for two nights before taking a ferry down the Inside Passage to Vancouver Island, so had a day to fill in this small town, allegedly the wettest in Canada. It certainly set out to prove this to us as torrents streamed down steadily all day. We ended up taking a 30 minute bus ride out to the Cannery, which seemed to be the only place of interest. When we arrived, we discovered that it was only due to open for the summer the following day. However, we managed to get inside out of the rain and found it to be bitterly cold and the next bus to town not due for four hours! One can only be philosophical about these things, which do occasionally happen to the unwary traveller.

The place seemed to be full of teenage school groups having seminars, so we sat in on a group discussing social values, trying to disguise our rumbling tummies when they had a break to eat the sandwiches they’d brought with them.

The following day, we had a pleasant 15 hour voyage south on the ferry. The rain had stopped, but it was very misty and overcast. I wondered where were all the whales and dolphins that the Inside Passage is said to be teeming with. There were no helpful announcements if any were sighted as we’d had on the train.

The next stage of the journey was to travel down the island by bus, then train, getting off a couple of times to explore and spend the night. On the train I noticed a strange squeaking noise, as though something needed oiling. I finally pinpointed it to a large cardboard box, so I went over to investigate.

It turned out to be nine ducklings, whose mother had been killed by the train. As we were getting off at Chemainus, the guard asked if we’d take them as his wife would be there to pick them up.

She wasn’t there and there were a few moments of panic as we sat on a bench, nursing the box and wondering how we’d look after them if she didn’t turn up. Fortunately this situation didn’t arise as she soon arrived to collect them. Another good deed done!

First published in VISA 97 (June 2011)