Vancouver to Kamloops

The bold eagle stood and watched, perched high on top of a barren, lifeless tree. Down below, the Fraser River flowed by, full of life, full of vitality. Rough currents rushed past, the surface of the water broken by the random appearance of dizzying whirlpools and ever-changing wave patterns. Rapidly downstream it flowed, having traveled hundreds and hundreds of kilometres from the pristine glacial ponds and lakes higher up in the Rockies. Eventually, the river will meet and melt into the vast, vast Pacific, at which point it will have lost its clear, green hue, and taken on a brown coat of pollution and silt.

A crow, messenger of the spirits according to the natives, called. Its call echoed in the dense expanse of pines and other conifers that sprawled across the backs of hills and mountains that grew taller and taller as we journeyed eastward. The sky was gentle, the sun bright, and the clouds silky and dreamy. Downtown Vancouver’s noise, traffic, and broken windows and looted stores after the hockey loss, was now merely a distant memory...

We rose early to catch the train. Like before every long journey, and perhaps very afraid I'll oversleep, I slept badly and woke up at various intervals throughout the night. Finally, at quarter past six, it was time to rise.

Throughout the day, we were  treated like special guests, pampered with little treats and drinks, and elaborate meals. Though the train traveled slowly, and wound its way along the Fraser, and later the Thomson Rivers towards Kamloops, the speed was perfect for taking in the vast, breathtaking scenery that was ever changing. From lush green  forests tall with pines and other conifers, the landscape gradually transitioned into an arid, desert-like terrain that dry and almost lifeless. Majestic mountains and jagged peaks became barefaced rocks that looked like they could easily crumble. Not only the plants changed, but deer became mountain goats and coyotes which would on occasion stop and watch by the railroad as we noisily passed. And this is only the beginning, for as we continue our journey tomorrow, the scenery will once again change as we enter the Canadian Rockies.

In the wagon, I am most definitely the youngest person (except perhaps for one of the train service personnel, who happens to be studying part time). Most other are pensioners, elderly couples traveling and enjoying life together. I'm not sure what mum thinks when she sees other elderly couples... perhaps a sense of envy, a sense of loss or regret that dad is not here with her? I'm traveling with her, but the dynamic, the interaction is different. I feel it, I think it too myself, and imagine how it would be traveling with a peer or an intimate somebody.

Mum's face looked silently content whenever I would steal glances at her. She would stare out the window, take in the scenery, and just sit there almost motionless for a long time. Traveling has always brought her much joy and pleasure, and I'm glad that we are finally on this trip, which seems to be distracting from her illness and fatigue.