— 1

Vancouver to Field

British Columbia

July 7­13, 2013

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Wait, don't answer that now. Suffice

to recognize that language has played

a trick on us, has gone on holiday, and

left us with an argumentative

conundrum of definitions. To define

those three areas of experience is like

defining what makes a vegetable.

Vegetables can be roots, stalks, leaves or fruits. It's impossible to

define except with a circular reasoning: it's a vegetable because it's a

vegetable. It's a garden because I say it is.

And so it is with this trip, July 7­13, 2013, a complete week: seven

days, seven full days. Now that I sit down and try to string the notes

together into a narrative I struggle to find the one string that will

draw it all together into one neat package. There is a package there.

Somewhere. A hazy kernel of a search that led to other things, as all

searches do.

In the beginning we started with a few lists of stops: The original 1886

(CPR) list, the 1932 list for both CPR and CN, and the 2013 list from

VIA rail.

Florence had written to the CPR archives for a map of the first train

stations and stops from 1886 passenger trains from Montreal to Port

Moody. The francophone archivist sent a copy of a map and list of

stations and stops. It had to be magnified like crazy as the printing

was damaged and faded. It was hard to read.

What is the

difference between

a garden, a park

and a landscape?

— 3

At the Vancouver Library Florence also found a 1932 map of CPR and

CN rail roads of BC and Alberta. What made this one difficult was the

stations for both lines were written close together. Both lines run next

to each other for most of the Fraser River before they separated at

Kamloops. Florence compiled a table of stops and compared it to the

2013 "The Canadian" VIA rail train schedule. In retrospect we think

some of those stops made it to the wrong column on the table. A few

CPR stops ended up on the CN schedule and the other way around too.

I tried to match the names on the map with places through Google

maps. Some were successful, and other not so much. I printed out

detailed views in faded grey. One discovery was that there is often a

"Station Road" or "Railway Road" that leads to the rail line. Sometimes

there are place names in Google Maps where there is nothing. Perhaps

they are there as organizational districts. It wasn't clear and time

wasn't on our side.

In any case, like Cervantes searching for an trigger to get Don Quixote

on his way, we became bound up in the romance of the rail, a glow of a

golden age where the chemin de fer stitched Canada together. Our

madness, the trope, the conceit was to see as many of these stops as

possible.

— 4

Sunday, July 78:20 am depart from my place.

Our first stop was St. Elmo Road. I had thought this might be the

Ruby Creek stop from 1886. But the line is CN, not CP, which is on the

other side of the Fraser. This was the first of several confusions

between the two lines which criss­cross the several rivers they follow.

We discovered an old church. Is this a reserve? There were no traces of

any stop or station. We also saw a bright yellow bird. I wrote this down.

Children from next door rode their bicycles up and down the street.

The sign on the post by the track said this was CN mile 47.75 Yale sub.

— 5

At Hope we went to the Visitor Information centre, where we met a

very knowledgeable docent who gave lots of information: where the

Hope train station was, how to find the Cisco (or Syska) bridges, plus

news that the Boston Bar station was moved and boarded up and the

North Bend station long gone.

— 6

We walked up to the Hope station, moved from its original location and

now a community centre. The back went straight up two floors, but

had doors up top. Obviously there was originally a platform level with

those doors at one point. Our thoughts are it was originally on the

other side of the tracks, which is on a slope. The back of the building

would be up the slope, so that the track platform would be level with

the second floor of the building. Get the picture?

— 7

We went down to the tracks and took a few pictures. Looking into the

distance, away from the Fraser River we saw a bridge in the distance.

We went back to the car, found the bridge, which was basically in the

back of some old guy's yard. The bridge crosses the Coquihalla Creek.

— 8

— 9

The old guy came out of his house and chatted a bit about how often

the train came, how high the river rose, and about his daughter and

grandson helping with the garden. A train came as we took photos.

In Hope we also took a few pictures of a garage we originally thought

was abandoned, but later realized was just closed.

We crossed the Fraser and tried to find Haig.

— 10

Our first attempt said "No access to CP rail". Was it a private road?

There was a cairn at the corner without any plaque. Back to the

highway. The next exit was marked CP Haig. There was nothing that

resembled a stop, but there was a depot of pipes, conduit, old ties and

other junk.

— 11

— 12

On to Trafalgar, the next on the list. Our first attempt was Doolan

Road, which ended in a locked gate. The next attempt may have been

more successful. There was a pile of rails. Once again, there was

nothing to suggest this had been a stop. We also had exposure issues.

It's dark by the rails, but the sky is light – too light to be properly

exposed. Aargh.

— 13

Over the next few days we discovered the early morning light isn't

good: the contrast is too much with the darker ground, there's a mist or

haze over everything. After 10:30 am it's better.

Choate: I think this location came from Google maps ­ there's a small

(6 or so) community of houses across the tracks. I had seen an old

photo of the Choate station doing my research. The photo shows a

— 14

small shack. We drove though the community and then went back to

the tracks. There was nothing there that resembled anything. A metal

shed and two crossing posts ornamented a track crossing filled with

cement. That, at least, was a contrast with the wood used at Trafalgar.

— 15

The subject of landscape was always back­of­mind. The quixotic nature

of the trip seemed to have several fuzzy objectives:

One: stop wherever we felt like

Two: try to find the original stops

Three: document what's there now

It's this last one that quickly created questions. We knew that very few

stations still existed. My very little reading suggested that many stops

had been just that: stops. How many pictures of railways in the middle

of nowhere can you take? The challenge is to look for differences:

concrete road crossing instead of timber. Flowers in the foreground?

How about details of detritus or pieces of the rail? They could be

anywhere but they happen to be here, in this place

How do we show 'here'?

And what if we can't find 'here'?

— 16

Squeah was just a question mark on the map. It was identified by an

Internet search, but without any roads or other marks to let us know

when we were there it seems pretty hopeless. In the vicinity we found

a bridge, did a U­Turn, parked and clambered down to what was

labelled Emory Creek. There were two bridges: one for the highway

(take care crossing!) and one for the CP rail line. Below, it was

picturesque. The water was a gorgeous green. I dipped my feet in.

— 17

I've read the word 'paradise' comes from the Persian for 'walled

garden'. Originally that would have referred to the biblical paradise,

the garden of Eden, through the use of a metaphor. And now we've

extended it to places like Emory Creek: beautiful, cool in the summer

heat, an invitation for laziness and the contemplation of nature's

beauty, a place removed from our regular world. A metaphor extended

from another metaphor. Here, at Emory Creek, we were walled in by

the steep banks leading up to the highway, and sheltered from the

heavens by the bridges; bridges that did not bridge two worlds but

provided a continuum of one world strung out in three lines across an

undulating landscape.

Three lines?

Yes. On this trip we concentrated on our goal of finding interesting rail

shots on the two lines, but to get there we took the invisible path of the

Trans Canada Highway. This is the third line, and really it was this

line that drew out the trip, connected the stops, and tied together the

trip into something cohesive.

— 18

We had our lunch at Yale, in the backyard of the museum – just us.

The shade was welcome in the heat. The tracks run parallel to Douglas

Street, and my first thought was the station would have been along

this street, but we were told by the museum staff the station had been

at the end, by the pile of gravel, at the end of the Road.

— 19

And indeed we found a few artefacts: an old cement platform that had

a few embedded services (plumbing), a few rails planted into the

ground painted a bright yellow, and a water station too – or a black box

labelled 'water' with a crank.

— 20

— 21

We passed Spuzzum because I mis­remembered what was there.

Spuzzum is a First Nation, and does have a sign. We stopped at the

new Alexandra Bridge (1962?). The bridge has salmon sculptures at

the ends. The tracks (CP) passed under the bridge at this point.

— 22

— 23

We stopped a bit further on and walked down to the old Alexandra

Bridge. The deck is a grate, making for a vertiginous experience. We

also saw where Gaye and Jim marked where they had stopped a few

years before. It's in the centre of the span on the South side.

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We missed the next few stops on the list: Stout, Chapmans and China

Bar. At this point we started to realize that it was extraordinarily

difficult to figure out where these stoppings may have been. There just

aren't any communities or roads. We also started to get confused over

which community or stop was on what side of the river. And why did

CN and CP have to start with the same letter? That just makes things

harder. En tout cas, we ended up in Boston Bar. This, at least, was a

town.

While Florence took a picture of an old place across the highway, Don

asked at the gas station where the Alpine camp ground was. The camp

ground was in the accommodations guide mailed to Florence a few

days earlier. The Korean clerk said it was a few kilometres up the road.

It was a RV camp ground, but one where it looked like most of the RVs

were parked without owners. Perhaps they bought for the month or

summer.

We were assured that it never rained in Boston Bar, and if it does it's

just a sprinkle. It started to rain as we finished putting the flies on the

tents. Within minutes the rain was heavy enough we had to cook

under the shelter by the bathrooms. The managers lent a filthy vinyl

table. C'est the debut de l'histoire des rags.

— 28

We had to move the table several times as the rain turned to a shower,

then a deluge. Then it started to hail. The water was so thick we

couldn't see the campsite. The road started to wash out. The ceilings in

the shelter started to leak, not just where we were but in the

bathrooms too. In a panic I asked Florence if I could move my stuff

from the tent to the car. Fortunately I had my umbrella there. What an

— 29

adventure! Fortunately it wasn't cold. Just wet. There was some

concern over where we would sleep: Florence thought the bathrooms

were a possibility. However there were leaks in the men's. The storm

lasted a long time, over an hour.

Florence went to see the managers to put the ice packs in their freezer,

and to needle them about it never raining. They were busy shovelling

water from their patio with a snow shovel and broom.

The rain stopped and the sky seemed to clear up a bit. We

courageously went back to Boston Bar to take pictures of the Boston

Bar train station as the sun was setting. The station was indeed

boarded up and moved back from the tracks. The sky had half­cleared

leaving a pink­hued dusk. A train pulled up (CN tracks) and Florence

made a connection with an engineer named Terry from Kamloops. He

normally did the Kamloops/Boston Bar run. Apparently CN and CP

share the rails, so that (in this section anyway) Westward traffic uses

CN tracks, and Eastward­bound uses CP tracks. Florence started

recording locomotives. We stayed until it was well past dark, then went

back for a good night's sleep in a damp tent.

— 30

Monday, July 8, 2013

Up at 6 am.

My mattress had deflated during the night. We had breakfast in our

little spot by the washroom. It hadn't rained any more and the sky was

clear. We put Florence's tent on the table to help it dry out, then we

headed back to Boston Bar around 9am. Just outside of town (the

North side of town) we stopped to take pictures of a rail bridge and

highway. The bridge was at the same height as the highway but the

ground dropped off quite steeply below. Don climbed a hill of loose

rocks to get the big picture. Florence braved the highway for a view

from the other direction.

— 31

To capture this scene we're presented with a few challenges. The

camera can't see and experience the landscape the same way I do as I

move around looking at different things. When we first stopped, I take

it all in, an establishing shot. This is the big view, the traditional

landscape with a purpose of decoding what it is I'm looking at. Where

is the horizon? Are there any bears?

— 32

Next I look at those features that attracted me to stop: the bridge, a

sinuous curve of highway, perhaps the field of knee­high blue flowers.

Where do they lead? What makes these different from other areas?

When I walk through the landscape I concentrate on the details.

Here's a flower in bloom, this one is past perfection. This rock is sharp.

— 33

It's probably impossible to capture all these experiences at once in one

image. I try a few instead, in this case the establishing shot and a few

details of the knee­high flowers. I shoot Florence through them to give

a sense of scale.

Traffic is always a problem. There are so many very large trucks. Fast.

Noisy. Bits of gravel or who­knows­what that may fly off. It's nerve­

racking. These highways just weren't built for people to walk along.

— 34

There's always a rush to avoid potential problems with drivers who

may not stay in their lane. There's a stress that inhibits careful

composition or setting the exposure correctly.

We went back to the boarded­up Boston Bar train station. There was a

commemorative garden at the back where trees had been planted in

memory of three individuals.

— 35

We met a tattooed woman without front teeth who said Chaumox (on

our list) was a mountain and not a town or station. She said to look for

the bunkhouse in North Bend (just across the river from Boston Bar).

The old bunkhouse, she said, was just behind the new one, after the

office. North Bend is CP. Boston Bar is CN. Let's be clear on that.

I, of course, got all mixed up on this and thought the office was the new

bunkhouse. In front of the office were a few shacks (one on either side)

labelled "Sand". Was this the name of the station? We think they were

storehouses for sand for when it snows.

Fortunately Florence met a First Nations guy – North Bend is a

reserve we think – and after some discussion about the fishing season

and his "Boston Bar" sign on the porch he gave directions to go around

and down (imagine the circular gesture). We found a street called

Station Street which led down to the tracks, and what we took to be

the old bunkhouse. A few photos later we went up Station Street and

down another where we found the new bunkhouse. Relieved that it

was all making sense we headed back to camp to pack up. There is a

Chaumox Road in North Bend. It's the main road leading from the

bridge. Perhaps the eponymous Chaumox Station was somewhere

further on along this route.

— 36

The history of rags continues. The tents were caked in mud, and not

dry mud either. After some ineffectual wiping we rolled everything up

and crammed them into a large orange plastic bag. Hopefully we'd find

a spot to dry them later.

— 37

— 38

North of Boston Bar, before the Boston Bar airport, near Ainsley Creek

we stopped to photograph a CN train tunnel. I tried different

approaches for this landscape: the wide angle establishing shot, a

rather boring zoom­in on the tunnel (sort of a portrait), and a few with

details in the foreground and the landscape in the background. These

last ones seem to be the most successful because they combine a sense

of close intimacy with something as well as the far­away informational

aspect.

— 39

We stopped a bit further on for another view, but there were many

posted warnings from the McKays not to trespass. We could just

imagine old man McKay lurking in the bush with his shotgun. "Git off

my land!" No photos.

Jackass mountain summit was the next stop just a few kilometres

further. Florence took a picture of the CP rail on the other side of the

— 40

Fraser, probably directly across from the McKay property. The parking

lot had a one­hour time limit. I can imagine all the bus tours stopping

for pictures during a busy tourist season. There were good views up

and down the river for classic postcard shots.

During these early days we tried to stop whenever there was a

potential view of train activity. Trains would go by every 20 minutes or

so, so there was almost always something to see.

— 41

At Kanaka we started to realize that all the the original CPR stops

were somewhat suspect. We had stopped in the Kanaka Cafe where a

retired engineer was having lunch. He couldn't think of a spot where

you could load or unload anything around there. It's too steep. There's

no way down to the track from the highway level. To top it off, the land

is all private, and if that wasn't enough, it's a cliff.

We heard about a movie called "The Pledge" directed by Sean Penn

starring Jack Nicholson that was filmed there. Apparently it's quite

forgettable. The woman who seemed to be running the restaurant was

very friendly and told us everything about her 16­year­old son who was

now in Vancouver. And I mean everything. We managed to pry

ourselves out of there and headed up to Siska or Cisco. It's spelled both

ways.

Siska is probably named for the local reserve. Cisco sounds like a

corruption of Siska. In any case this is a famous spot for shots of where

the two lines cross the river. We spent a fair bit of time trying to get

the perfect postcard shot (or two).

— 42

— 43

Then, up to Lytton.

Lytton has a cute little downtown with an old hotel and buildings

brightly painted. Or maybe that was the incredible brightness of the

day. That's how I remember it. Florence remembers it as calm,

welcoming, non­threatening. The big sign welcoming us let us know –

in a starburst – that this is 'Canada's Hot Spot'. And it certainly was.

Hot.

— 44

Lytton sits on a ledge on the East side of the Fraser, just below where

the Thompson meets it. The Fraser runs North to South and the

Thompson runs in from the East at a right angle. Standing at the little

park at the edge of town you can see the green waters of the Thompson

sliding into the muddy brown of the Fraser and getting swallowed up.

The CN tracks are on the shore, below the town. I took a call from

work while Florence charmed the workers at the bottom to "not see

— 45

anything" while she took pictures and recorded the train passing

through. All of these yards are not open to the public and have "No

Trespassing" signs. A large marmot scurried over the yard.

Once again, there was no sign of any station at the tracks. There were

large piles of railway materials, similar to other areas we had stopped.

— 46

Remember Syska or Cisko, where the trains crossed the river?

Obviously we didn't because we were surprised to learn that CP ran

their track above the town, the East side, before turning East to follow

the Thompson on the South. CN's track crosses the Thompson here

and continues East on the North side of the river.

Confused? Remembering who was on what side was always a problem.

— 47

As we scouted areas from the highway the fast traffic was always a

problem. We couldn't always stop because of large trucks directly

behind, or because there just wasn't a place to pull over. The highway

is a bit like the fast­flowing Fraser: dangerous!

The Visitors' Centre at Lytton was helpful. We learned the West side of

the river is called Westside and is primarily native. However the mayor

lives there too. The native language is called Thompson. Very few still

speak the language because of the residential schools. The signs in

Lytton are bilingual though. On the way into town the few stop signs

for roads meeting the highway were also bilingual.

There's a ferry on the Fraser somewhat to the north of where the

Thompson meets up, and a pedestrian bridge to the south. High water

this spring closed the ferry down, forcing everyone who lived in

— 48

Westside to take the passerelle to town. Lytton holds a Lytton River

Festival on the Labour Day Weekend.

We were both overheated and the idea of getting into the water seemed

like a good idea. The Visitors' Centre woman said there was a beach

under the bridge. It was private property, but the owner allowed people

to swim there. I had some concerns about getting swept away by the

current. The woman's friend said she swam there. Good enough.

Unfortunately we couldn't access the road down. A large sign on the

gate discouraged trespassers. So instead we took some pictures of the

CN rail bridge, the waters and an old ruin.

The Trans Canada turns Eastward at Lytton to follow the Thompson

towards Cache Creek.

— 49

We stopped at Skihist park for lunch. There are good views of the north

side of the canyon. Both of us had stopped here before. There weren't a

lot of visitors, which seemed odd for summer.

We spread out the wet and muddy tents and tarps out on the grass and

fence to dry out. This didn't take too long at all. We took a few more

photos of the austere, desert­like mountains. The CN line was visible

— 50

on the other side, looking like it could slide into the river at any

moment. A few live trees clung desperately to the gravel slopes, and

dead ones tipped over looking like toothpicks. We got the sense that the

trees were slowly surfing their way down the mountain side with the

rocks. Eventually they will all end up in the river.

— 51

— 52

Skihist had a water tap. It was delightful to get some water on our

burning feet.

On the road again the highway descends close to the level of the river

with many twists and turns. This is the spot I remember as a kid,

riding in the old 1959 Studebaker piled high with the big canvas tent,

sleeping bags and inflatable and foam mattresses.

— 53

Further on the Thompson and the highway turn northward again. We

stopped for a few shots along the way, including one spot where the

only fatality from falling rocks in the canyon happened. There was a

memorial for the truck driver who was killed. A bit further the CP line

crossed the highway. We stopped and tried to figure out how to shoot

that. Once again, we had to be very cautious because of the speed with

which people travel.

— 54

At Goldspan Provincial Park there was an excellent view of the CN

track (north side) and a tunnel. However the sun was behind the

mountain. This made for extreme contrasts with the areas still in the

sun. It was impossible to get a decent shot and we decided to

remember to stop here on our way back.

— 55

Just on the outskirts of Spence's Bridge, probably in the Reserve, was

a tiny green shingle church. Somewhat in disrepair it invited a quick

stop for a few shots. We had a discussion about including power lines in

photos. Are they a distraction or an important part of this scene?

In Spence's Bridge we drove a few roads looking for an likely area

where the rail stop could have been. We found the rail sign and what

— 56

looked like a crumbling foundation of something next to the tracks on

Station Road.

Onward. The afternoon was wearing on. The highway crosses the

Thompson at Spence's Bridge and continues along the North side with

the CN line. We stopped when feasible to see if there was a view. We

had a good one of a mostly orange train passing below along a sinuous

— 57

curve. A large orange rock jutted out of the river, incongruous with the

green and golds of the river and its banks.

Florence rediscovered her little white church on the other side. She

had wanted to find this from two previous trips: 2006 and 2012. There

were a few buildings close to it but nothing that could be called a town.

— 58

It's not marked on the map. Possibly it's Toketic or Spatsum from our

list of 1886 stops. It's on the CPR side.

Further on we stopped at a sign commemorating the the Canadian

Northern Pacific's last spike here, in the town of Basque, in 1915.

We're still on the CN side. On the other side were ranches too, leading

us to think that 'Basque' covers both sides of the river. Basque was a

— 59

stop for both CP and CN. I was confused: the plaque says this was the

third trans­continental crossing. CP was the first, CN the third – who

was the second?

Ashcroft Manor: Florence wanted to see this again from her 2012 trip.

This is in Ashcroft Village, just shy of Ashcroft proper.

— 60

Right next to the manor are four identical white houses, now

abandoned and worse for wear. They are right by the road, and at the

end is a garage with five doors. Who built these and why? Speculation:

a rancher had four daughters and built these houses for them and

their families. Later, horrible things happened, the houses were

abandoned, and woe to anyone who trespasses. The horror film waits

for development.

— 61

At Ashcroft we saw one motel, but after seeing the room we decided to

go to Cache Creek instead. The motel we picked ended up being right

next to the highway with a well­used road in the back, due to me

getting my directions all buggered up and thinking we were behind the

town. Florence did not sleep at all. I slept like a baby.

Florence had worries about her photo quality because of the new

camera. We downloaded our pictures and had a look at them on both

her and my laptops. A quick peek at a few in Photoshop showed there

was lots of good stuff there.

We also noticed that in the summer the light in the morning, contrary

to what we'd normally think, was a horror for exposure. 1) there was a

white haze over anything in the distance. 2) the brightness of the sky

contrasted with anything on the ground that wasn't in direct sunlight,

making subjects have a horrendously over­exposed sky. 3) White clouds

are a killer. 4) the view from the back of the camera is useless for the

darker details.

— 62

Tuesday, July 9– journée de chaleur epouvantable

We left Cache Creek at 8 am. It was already hot and desiccating.

We went back to Ashcroft and found the historical park with a replica

of the old station now serving as a washroom. The CP tracks are right

behind and have a shed in the distance. Ashcroft is a stop for The

Canadian, so we asked a few CPR workers where the CN station was.

"Right, right, right, left" was the formula. We never did find the

station, but we discovered a work yard of sorts with the usual pile of

ties (concrete with re bar), and other stuff. There was a big working

shed in the distance. Between the tracks and the river were a few

small houses, including an abandoned old shack and one place with

some interesting sculptures.

— 63

— 64

— 65

— 66

— 67

We went back to Cache Creek to get back on the Trans­Canada and

headed into the rising sun.

We made a few stops along the way. Once just past Juniper beach for a

scenic view of the valley and river, and once down the Walhachin Road.

— 68

Walhachin was a stop for both CP and CN in 1932. Our original plan

(from that morning) was to ignore it and head straight to Savona, the

next stop, because Walhachin is on the South side of the Thompson,

while the highway is on the North side before crossing to Savona.

— 69

Our plans changed when we saw Walhachin Road. 'Visit historic

Walhachin' could not be resisted. We discovered cacti in the scrub along

with several varieties of sage. We cut a branch of a fragrant varietal for

the car. Florence reminded me to watch for snakes.

Sage: there are two kinds in this area, rabbit and another one. It's the

small leafed variety that's fragrant.

— 70

We ran into an older couple from Maine, Marie and Stanley Jordan,

who were watching trains. They had all sorts of gear and radios: one

for CN, the other for CP. Florence got an interview with both. The

woman combined the train spotting with bird watching. She wasn't

overly impressed with the red­winged blackbirds ("we have those at

home"), but had spotted a kingfisher of some sort the day before. The

— 71

man had a book, Canadian Trackside Guide 2013, that listed all the

current stops and distances. Florence made a note.

Marie and Stanley taught us about hot boxes. These are monitored

from the tracks, or next to the tracks, and are able to sense the

temperature of the axles as they pass by. They then send a

computerized voice signal on the radio counting the axles and their

status. In the old days this sort of tracking was important because the

oil would evaporate, the axles would melt, and the the train would

derail. Now they help people like Marie and Stanley know when the

next train is coming.

We continued down the side road to Walhachin, crossing an old black

bridge that had two osprey nests. One was huge, with a large part of it

made of orange rope.

Walhachin was small and up the hill on the other side. There was a

train behind the town, next to the mountain. It was CP, and appeared

to be loading gravel. At the front edge of town we could look down to

the river where both CN and CP shared the bank. The CN line crosses

the Thompson shortly after the the bridge we had taken, and shortly

before the Number 1 highway crosses.

— 72

We continued to Kamloops, to the Visitor Centre. Armed with maps

and information about motels, the CPR office, the VIA rail station on

CN station, Tranquille, and Future Shop, we ended up at the park

downtown by the river even though I tried to get lost and go to Merritt

instead.

— 73

The heat was miserable, and – don't forget – Florence had not slept the

night before. Part of Florence's train project was to talk to various rail

employees. She should have called from Vancouver instead of just

showing up, but here we were. Working up a bit of courage we headed

over to the CPR office, which is almost downtown, and in an industrial

and no­nonsense brutalist modernist building.

— 74

Locked.

We talked to a few engineers from Revelstoke who recommended we

talk to the Yard Manager who recommended we talk to the office

assistant: Karen. Finally, a name. Apparently she was at lunch. We

waited for a bit, saw a woman engineer take an engine out, and

eventually left for ice cream after a thorough recording of engines.

Coconut ice cream. We went to the old CPR station which is closer to

the river, across from the park. This is where the Rocky Mountaineer

stops three days a week. We took a few photos despite the lack of

energy. The Mountaineer was expected around 5pm, and a worker was

putting out number signs on the ground.

Kamloops North is CN and is also where The Canadian from VIA Rail

stops. We didn't visit it.

The day was terrible. We were always thirsty, dehydrated, tired,

overheated, unable to quench our thirst with our water. It felt like it

had been heated to a few degrees above body temperature, despite

being in Thermoses.

On the way back to the beach (after all, this was a vacation) we

clambered up the passerelle that crosses CP's tracks and took a few

shots of CP's yard and office. A train was passing by too.

— 75

Instead of going to Tranquille as originally planned – Tranquille was a

stop on the 1886 CPR line, and the 1932 CP and CN lines – we made a

new plan and went straight to Revelstoke, stopping only at

Craigellachie to observe the tourists. There was a bus full of them.

A book could be written about tourist sites, traps, and what should be

at important places like this. I thought the large photo reproduction of

the driving of the last spike should have had cut­outs for people to put

their heads through; sort of a "Look, ma, I'm driving the last spike!"

moment. Florence was outraged at the thought.

We arrived at the Tourist Information Centre in Revelstoke at 6:50

pm. In a minor miracle, it was open until 7pm and Leda served us with

an extraordinary enthusiasm. In fact we were concerned she might end

up escorting us to look for a place for the night.

— 76

We settled on the Powder Springs Inn, which looked like it was one of

those ski places where a large group of friends share a small room.

Anyway it had two rooms and a kitchenette. It was so comfortable we

stayed three nights, forgetting our original resolution to camp for half

the time. Mind you, after Boston Bar we had lost some of that

enthusiasm.

We decided to slow down one day, which turned out to be busy anyway.

The Inn has a pub attached to it with an inset patio called "The Last

Drop", which is a play on the last drop in the glass and the "long drop

with a short stop" joke. The narrative attached to the pub is that Judge

Begbie, the hanging judge of 1880s BC, had spent time in a pub in

Scotland also called "The Last Drop". There is a mountain nearby

called Mount Begbie, and a local brewery named after the mountain.

Florence thought the last drop was a reference to the last spike. I

snootily informed her about the Judge's influence on British Columbia

jurisprudence.

— 77

Wednesday, July 10:

At 8:45 am we headed West of Revelstoke, back the way we came and

took a few shots of tunnels next to a small lake, some tracks, a highway

bridge and Three­Valley Gap.

— 78

This last place was really something. It's a Walt Disney/Lego

interpretation of the Banff hotel, all gables and bright red metal roof,

and includes a historical village of buildings saved from nearby sites as

well as a number of railway cars, etc. Florence took some pictures

while I inquired inside. The town had been on the West side of the

lake, but nothing was there now. The current agglomeration is on the

East side of the lake and was started in the late 1950s by the Bell

family which still owned and operated it.

— 79

— 80

— 81

— 82

— 83

We had an 11 am appointment at the Revelstoke Railway Museum.

We recorded Marjorie Somerton, executive director, as she gave us a

tour of the railway museum and an overview of the CPR in Revelstoke,

the building of the railway through the pass and the Revelstoke

Heritage Railway Society. She introduced us to Les Handley and Ernie

— 84

Ottewell, two retired CPR engineers in their 80s who volunteer

extensively at the museum.

Florence recorded both men as they told anecdotes and explained the

engines they used, the differences between steam and diesel. They had

run both. Their careers ran from the mid­1940s to the 1980s. They

were also some of the founders of the society. The interviews took place

— 85

inside the 5468 Mikado oil burner steam engine. This was the first

engine to do something historical. Ernie was the person who went to

get the engine in Montreal and spent six weeks getting it ready to roll

into the museum. Ernie mentioned some trains can have up to 170

cars. To transcribe the entire interview would take too long. We stayed

at least an hour with these two old codgers.

— 86

Les mentioned that railway workers use the word "Fusee" for a flare,

which is funny, since that's a french word.

We had lunch in the park by the river behind the aquatic centre, where

we discussed the project and various facets thereof.

— 87

I went to the regular museum and archives for some information about

dad's first wife and son who were killed in a mud slide in 1959. I met

the curator Catherine English who had lots of information. Florence

took a short nap in the meantime.

We walked up across the tracks to where the CN station was and also

where the the slide happened. Florence did a few recordings of trains

— 88

and we took a few pictures of the station. The station is not the

original, which was torn down in 1978 and replaced with a modern

square structure. We met Karen, who we were trying to meet in

Kamloops. Karen had come out to warn us not to step across the

yellow line. Through a series of accidental questions Florence

discovered her identity. Karen gave Florence the CP Communications

1­800 number for arranging staff interviews.

— 89

— 90

We walked back and took a few more shots from the back of the train

museum and then continued on to the cemetery, and then back to the

motel.

— 91

— 92

— 93

— 94

— 95

It was a warm day, but not vicious.

We finished the day with a beer at "The Last Drop" and worked on the

journal.

— 96

Thursday, July 11:

We were awake at 7am and started the day writing the journal. We left

Revelstoke 8:30 am.

The first photos were of a tunnel through the Albert Canyon, on the

Illecillewaet river.

We passed an accident of one small car. Several ambulances were

there. A humbling reminder to be careful.

— 97

We stopped for a train shed across the river. This one had grasses

growing on the roof.

A little further we stopped at the Lanark avalanche shed on the

highway. Across the Illecillewaet was a long structure of cement and

metal for the train's avalanche shed. Although quite interesting

architecturally it was difficult to photograph since it was in the shade.

— 98

As well as the train's avalanche/snow sheds we got photos of the

highway's shed, the wild flowers and the view up the Illecillewaet.

Florence recorded highway noises too.

We also found wild strawberries on the side of the highway. Before I

forget: yesterday in Revelstoke there were plenty of thimble berries.

— 99

— 100

— 101

Next was Flat Creek: a siding right next to the highway. A double

culvert allowed the creek to flow under the tracks. A rest area on other

side provided a few non­traditional opportunities like a gate in the

foreground.

— 102

The MacDonald Mountain tunnel looked a little bizarre simply

because it was so easy to spot, and convenient to point the camera at.

— 103

We reached the Rogers Pass Discovery Centre at 11:15. We asked for

Michelle Cole, who was the executive director at the Revelstoke Train

museum before Marjorie. It was her day off. We got maps and

information on Glacier House and Stoney Creek. More on that later.

By 11:45 we were well on the tracks to Stoney Creek. We abandoned it

at 12:10.

— 104

A note on contradictorytravel instructions

In the beginning, at the Rogers Pass Discovery

Centre, the woman said Stoney Creek Bridge

was 5.9 km from the Discovery Centre. She said

it would be visible on the left from the highway;

we'd be able to pull over and (carefully!) cross for

pictures. Anxious not to miss it we stopped at 5

km. There was nothing visible on the right, but

an access road was easily visible on the left.

This seemed like a likely spot for a CP

maintenance road. Down the road we met a CP

truck coming up. Three young men. They said

the bridge was about one mile down this road.

He reminded us to be careful: those trains can

sneak up on you – you wouldn't think so, but

they can. He also said the bridge wasn't visible

from the highway.

Note on the note: one thing we've noticed is

people who work on the rails don't have a clear

idea of where things are from the highway or

what's accessible by car. They have a railroad

perspective – that's their road.

— 105

Back to our sidebar on travel instructions:

We walked for a good half­an­hour.

My story: I had hoped the road would continue

down to the level of the creek and follow it. The

track meanwhile would stay high. Thus we'd

have a spectacular and unusual view of the

structure from below. However the road petered

out at the level of the track. In hindsight it's

obvious the road was meant for the inspection

trucks to get to the track, get on the track and

then do their thing.

Florence's perspective: Let's find the bridge from

the tracks, and hope for a service road to go

down from there for necessary repairs. The only

obstacle would have been if the road was on the

other side of the creek. Florence couldn't see

herself crossing the bridge on foot.

Along the track we saw a sign saying "Stoney

Creek". At mile "79" it was clear that things

were not so simple. No bridge was visible and

the track just kept going and going. Discouraged

we turned back. A few minutes later a Canadian

Transport truck came by on the tracks (going

backwards). The guy in the truck was quite firm

that this was private property and he'd

appreciate it if we went back to where we came

from. No problem. We asked about the bridge.

He said it was visible from the highway after

crossing a highway bridge, on the left­hand side.

More to follow.

— 106

At 1:20 we had lunch between Glacier and Yoho parks, West of Donald,

which was a stop for the 1886 train.

At 2:30 we reached Golden, got gas and directions to the train station

that had been moved to the museum. Looking for 13th Street we ended

up at the rail bridge over the Columbia. The water is a greyish green,

an unusual colour and the river wide and shallow.

— 107

We realized this was a "Journée de dingues".

We managed to find our way downtown and got new directions which

seemed to lead back to where we were before. Fortunately Florence

suggested crossing a different bridge and within a few minutes we

came to the Golden museum with train station. We think it was moved

there in 1991. Photos were taken and off we went.

— 108

— 109

— 110

At 4:15 we were at the Information Centre in Field. Alex was the man

behind the counter and full of suggestions and information. He also

had a thing for trains which gave him a perspective congruent with our

own. He updated our information on Glacier House we obtained at

Rogers Pass. See the "Notes for next trip" section. Alex told us that if

we saw a train leaving Field we'd have enough time to get to the Spiral

Tunnels before the train.

— 111

We started with the Spiral tunnels. There was only a view of one side

of the spiral, and no train. You'd think the spiral concept would be easy

to grasp, but somehow, perhaps the sheer scale of the project, made it

difficult to comprehend where the tracks went and how the train did

it's manoeuvres, even with a handy model right there.

— 112

We left for our second item, the Walk­in­the­past trail, at the end of a

camp ground. On the way down the highway we saw a train heading

up from Field. Remember Alex's advice? We turned around, raced up

to the Spiral Tunnels parking lot, sprinted to the view and saw the

locomotive had already entered the first tunnel. It was still

impressive, if hard to capture on camera.

— 113

After the pusher locomotive (the engine at the end of the train) went

through we went back to the Walk­in­the­past trail. It was rather steep

for an 'easy' walk, and had fallen trees to be climbed over and crawled

under. At the end of the trail were the remains of an old narrow­gauge

engine that had been used to haul rock out of the tunnels. It had been

— 114

knocked on its side and abandoned. I can't help but but imagine the

last crew to run it got their hands on a stick of dynamite and put it

under the engine to celebrate finishing the job.

— 115

— 116

— 117

— 118

On the way out we took several post­card photos of the scenery. Mt

Stephen has the waterfall that evaporates as it falls and Cathedral

Mountain, just behind and to the east, looks like a volcanic plug – but

it isn't. The Kicking Horse River runs next to the highway: a broiling

mass of the grey­green water that seems typical of this part of the

Rockies.

— 119

— 120

On the way back to Field we pulled to the side because of the group of

female and young Elk in the river, trying to cross the highway. Were

they Elk or caribou? And what kind of elk? Discussion ensued. We also

saw caution signs for sheep and jumping deer.

— 121

Back in Field by 6:40 pm we did an express trip to capture a few items

with the camera. First, the telegraph station, made of brick. This is the

only pre­WWII building left in Field. Next up, the water tower for

trains, and then traces where the roundhouse was: beds pointing to

the existing station. The station isn't accessible to the public.

— 122

— 123

Continuation de l'aventure des ponts Stoney Creek (et les autres):

1. Premièrement:

As we entered Glacier National Park Florence noticed the first bridge

in the gathering gloom of dusk. The sky was darkening with clouds.

The wind picked up. We could see rain falling in the distance. Bad

lighting! The site is next to a sign warning about avalanches, and

another reminder to buy your pass to the park. Florence thought this

is where I had suggested we stop on the way up. I'm not so sure myself.

Our trip mileage: 1143 km ­ 20 km from Rogers Pass Info Centre.

— 124

2. Deuxièmement:

Shortly later Florence spotted another bridge! We quickly skidded to

the side. We had to walk along the highway for a while. We think this

was the long walk. Trip mileage: 1148.5 km. ­ 15 km from Rogers Pass

Info Centre.

— 125

3. Troisièmement:

The cement barriers beside the highway had been moved giving a

narrow space on the pavement for us to walk along. For the first time

we had the comfort of not having to trudge through long grasses,

wildflowers and weeds. This bridge had cement pillars, telling us it

couldn't be Stoney Creek, which is a metal bridge. It was the longest

bridge of the three. We left the bridge at 9:29 pm thinking we were

done and we could (finally) go home and have supper. Trip mileage:

1150.0 km. ­ 10 km from Rogers Pass Info Centre.

… and a quatrième:

When we left the third, Florence said "I hope I won't discover a fourth

one," and minutes later said "I'm sorry, I have to admit I just saw a

fourth one." There was no room to stop, the light had gone, and we had

had enough by then. It was surprisingly cold. There was intermittent

rain. Logically this was the Stoney Creek. Dammit. Trip mileage: not

noted, probably around 1152 km. ­ 8 km from Rogers Pass Info Centre.

But maybe it wasn't. Visibility was not good.

Reference note: our trip mileage at Rogers Pass was 1163.10 km.

We arrived back at Revelstoke at 10:30 pm.

— 126

— 127

— 128

Friday, July 12:

We started the day writing the journal and trying to get facts straight

in our heads. So much has happened it's difficult to keep places and

times in the right order. And should there be a the story line? The

journal was started as a series of notes: we did this, we did that. But

there's more to it than just a linear progression of notes. It's after the

week has passed as I lie awake at night connecting unrelated thoughts:

seven days, Seven Against Thebes, seven deadly sins, seven days to

create the earth, that I start to think it's not just a grocery list.

I don't want to invent a story either, though, and that's the danger of a

documentary, shoe­horning bits and pieces into pre­established

narratives. At three minutes we need this, at 20 minutes there has to

be conflict.

We didn't have any personal conflict. This won't make a great road­trip

movie. At no point did things fall apart.

By 10:50 am we left Revelstoke after filling the tank.

— 129

At Three Valley we took a few more shots of the avalanche sheds across

the lake.

We continued to the Western end of the lake, where Three Valley used

to stand, according to the woman at the Three Valley Resort on the

Eastern end. Nothing remains except a shard of a plate. The road is

called Three Valley Siding.

— 130

We stopped at "19 Mile Overhead" for yet another shot of a train

passing under the highway. The train was orange.

— 131

Malakwa Station Road was next. This was few kilometres off the

highway and included "Rayes Rustick Wood Things".

— 132

A few kilometres later we finally did something else: we took pictures

of an old saw mill at Mylinemi Road.

At Cambie­Solsqua Road we ran into a character called Sheldon Keith

Ready, who had been living off the grid for 32 months. His glasses

were held together with rubber bands and bits of string and had a long

white beard. His laugh was deep and infectious. He had been carrying

— 133

water home from an artesian well across the highway in 2­litre plastic

bottles. Although at first glance you'd figure he'd be a nut he was quite

knowledgeable about the area, the history and the watershed. Yes, the

watershed. He was concerned about how the highway and railway

affected the watershed in this area. Florence seized the opportunity to

interview him as a local beside the railway.

— 134

One thing Sheldon mentioned was this area used to be called Bowie.

The train, he said, used to make a whole series of stops including

Bowie, Cambie and Solsqua.

After this we were in Sicamous, where we went to the information

centre where two very young women tried to get us lost. Fortunately,

we've been down that road before. We found a camp ground for the

— 135

night, a private one called Whispering Pines Camping and RV Park, at

Mara Lake. It was a bit of a detour off the highway, but the other

campsites were almost full. This was 2 pm.

We decided to have lunch somewhere other than the campsite because

of the thoroughness of the mosquito assault. We headed back to

Sicamous to find the remains of the train station. The young woman at

Sicamous had said that although it was long gone you could still see

the foundations of the hotel. She gave very clear instructions. How

could we mess this up? However, "Old Buhn Road" didn't materialize

and before we knew it we were well on our way to Salmon Arm. We

stopped at a rest stop for lunch and re­evaluated. I showed

backgammon to Florence and we played a game.

We decided to continue to Salmon Arm.

I had a few thoughts on organizing the project's information. The

problem, it seemed to me, was how to organize the zones or areas

where all these materials are collected. And what better way than to

use the divisions the rail roads use themselves for engineers and

crews? For CPR that would be Vancouver­North Bend; North Bend­

Kamloops; Kamloops­Revelstoke; Revelstoke­Golden; Golden­Calgary.

The problem with this approach is CN and CP would have different

divisions, especially after Kamloops where the lines diverge.

— 136

You could follow just one division, but the big picture would include

both lines, making is somewhat artificial. Following a railway's

internal divisions would be a nice conceit.

I also had an idea of a TV documentary, or perhaps series of

documentaries, of portraits of engineers running their section. It would

give a picture of that part of Canada and a picture of working

Canadians. The camera could follow them from the beginning of their

shift to the end of the day. It would work well on Knowledge Network.

As I was thinking about the project itself, I realized that we had taken

very few shots of the towns we passed through. If the project was about

Canada being built by the railway, it makes sense to show those

communities, the towns the rail was significant in building.

The project would then be a more complete portrait of Canada, or

small town Canada if you ignore the big stops.

Over the past 124 years (1887­2013) some of those stops have

flourished, like Kamloops, others have disappeared. There's probably a

commentary on how that happened, and why now there are so few

stops. And hidden in this history of the rail building communities and

the rail erasing itself from communities is the highway, the third line,

a line that didn't need stops because you could stop anywhere along it,

although no one does, you start at one point and go to your destination,

— 137

ignoring places like Chase unless you need to go to the bathroom, or

maybe you have relatives there, or maybe, just maybe, you want to go

on a walking tour, and places that were once a stop on the rail line, but

first became no longer viable and then the highway cuts the corner off,

like Notch Hill, and there's no one going by this lonely area so it slowly

erodes into the field. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

At Salmon Arm we stopped at the information centre. This one had an

efficient and well­informed clerk. But the peculiar layout of Salmon

Arm had us scratching our heads. The town is not laid out on a grid

but what appears to be an overlapping series of triangles. As we were

turning the map around and around in the parking lot a young woman

noticed our distress and offered to guide us to the train station.

The station is one of the few that is still on its original site. It was

boarded up; VIA Rail doesn't use it any more. There were supports

holding up the eaves, but otherwise it seemed in decent condition.

— 138

We stopped at a cafe and wrote our journal. That bare bones account is

the source of this document. We drank a rather weak iced coffee and

an iced tea dégueulasse. We stayed a long time, around two hours,

which allowed us to catch up to the end of the previous day.

We decided, somewhat stubbornly, to have another go at finding the

Sicamous hotel and station foundations. Salmon Arm Information

Centre had had a better map (Sicamous had run out of maps) and I

— 139

had found Buhn Road on it. Buhn branched off Old Sicamous Road

which is why we couldn't find it before. Old Sicamous Road switches

back and forth down the cliff to the water's edge. It's one lane wide and

quickly discovered it ends in a bed­and­breakfast garage. Discouraged

we headed back up the hill and into town for supper. It was at least

8:30 pm.

— 140

Sicamous has a nice little foreshore park, right under the railway

bridge. We had supper just as the sun was setting. And then, suddenly,

as we were admiring the dying remains of the day we saw the

foundations, just past a big willow tree. We were on the other side of

the water, but the wall­like structure couldn't be anything else.

— 141

Florence recorded a passing train and us talking about the trip.

Darkness descended. Dishes needed to be done, a fire created,

backgammon to be played. Back to the camp ground. Florence had a

bit of a shock. Our site was delimited by cars on three sides. It felt a

little close. However, there were no party animals and everyone went

to bed before midnight. There wasn't any rain either, and the

mosquitoes had gone somewhere else.

— 142

Saturday, July 13:

We were up by 6 am. We took our time having breakfast with a fire,

drinking our tea and coffee (instant) and discussing a naming

convention for photos. The idea from yesterday of using the rail lines'

divisions was quickly dismissed because of the two lines. I suggested

suggested using map coordinates, but Florence baulked at that idea,

perhaps thinking of our IOCO project. Florence eventually decided

she'd use Excel with different columns for file name and site number.

The file name will be city name and number, i.e. Kamloops­0068.jpg.

We left our Mara campsite at 9:10am. Instead of going up the 97A back

to Sicamous we went south. We wanted to head back on the 97B to

Salmon Arm. At Grindrod we just had to stop to capture the best

hubcap collection ever.

— 143

Along the way we had a conversation about how to interpret art and

the nature of allegory. Before we knew it we were in Enderby! This was

too far, so we had to turn around to find the 97B.

We passed through Salmon Arm and stopped at Canoe, which is now a

suburb. A local mentioned there had been a derailment there last year

of a coal train. It missed all the houses, but obviously made an

— 144

impression on this guy, who was smoking a cigarette that he had

carefully removed the filter from. In his hand was a plastic bag with a

six­pack of beer inside.

As we passed through Tappen, we suddenly turned to the left to visit

Graydon and Maureen at their winery, Recline Ridge, a few kilometres

off the highway. Graydon pointed out that there was nothing at

— 145

Tappen any more, nor at Carlin, but the Christmas train stops at

Notch Hill. Every year CP organizes a Christmas train that travels

from East to West.

We took the back roads to Notch Hill. Florence had been there last year

with her friend Jan and remembered the area. In fact, there was a

delightfully decrepit church there. We found it easily enough, and it

was being restored by the Save Notch Hill Church Association. Fun

fact: the meandering backroad we took used to be the Trans­Canada

— 146

highway. We spent a fair bit of time there talking to the volunteers who

were working away on the old catholic church. It's a fascinating project

and we gathered a lot of information and pictures.

It was at Notch Hill that Florence was finally able to record the train

whistle.

— 147

We had lunch on the side of the road, right on the grass, which

gathered a few interested looks from people driving by.

Then we got mixed up with road names and directions. After a few u­

turns we took the road Florence knew from last year back to highway.

— 148

— 149

— 150

— 151

Speaking of u­turns, we had to do a few more at Squilax, both to get to

the tracks and to get back to the highway. For the first time I refused

to get out the car. There was nothing there but Florence went out

anyway.

At 2:30 we were in Chase. We took a short nap in a small park but got

up when the train passed.

— 152

Refreshed, we found the Information Centre which was manned by two

young women. One was from the Adams band and the other had a

slight accent we couldn't identify. She had an amazing laugh, and used

it freely. She didn't know where the Chase station used to be, but

mentioned the current building used by CP. She suggested we stay a

few days in Chase to do the walking tours, find the old mill site, etc etc.

— 153

The list of things to do in Chase is endless!

We did a few shots of the CP building and headed off to a local cafe to

finish off this journal.

For seven days we have always been looking for something: old train

stops, places to stay, places to eat, it never stopped. At least God got

the seventh day off.

We decided not to look for Pritchard or Ducks before Kamloops,

because on estime que l'on a fait ASSEZ. Quand même.

It is 5:03 as I write this in Chase.

We took the Coquihala back to Hope and were back at Don's shortly

before 9:30 pm. 6 days, 13 hours after starting.

— 154

— 155

Appendix A

Our lists of train stations

1886 First Transcontinental

Victoria

Vancouver

Hastings

Port Moody

Westminster Junction

Hammond

Mission

Nicomen

Harrison

Agassiz

Ruby Creek: We started here, or soI thought, until we realized wewere on the wrong side of theFraser. Ruby Creek should beon the North side.

Hope: CN station, moved and nowa community hall

Yale: Foundation, or concrete pad

North Bend: Crossing and oldbunkhouse

Keefers

Cisco (Siska, BC): Bridges

Lytton: Siding

Dryrock

Spence’s Bridge: Foundation onthe CN side

Spatsum: little old white church

Ashcroft: CN rail yard

Pennys

Savonas

Cherry Creek

Tranquille

Kamloops: Old station now used

by the Rocky Mountaineer

Ducks

Shuswap (Chase): Yard station

North Hill (Notch Hill?): Crossingor siding

Salmon Arm: old station, on site,boarded up

Sicamous: old foundation visible

Craigellachie: Tourist highwaystop

Griffin Lake

Clanwilliam

Revelstoke: Station

Twin Bute

Albert Canyon

Illecillewaet

Ross Peak Siding

Glacier House: Ruins, but wedidn't stop

Rogers Pass: Station, but we didn'tstop

Bear Creek

Six Mile Creek

Beaver Mouth

Donald: A town, but we didn't stop

Moberly House

Golden: Station moved, boardedup

Palliser

Leanchoil

Otter Tail

Field

— 156

1932 CPR

Hope: CN station, moved and nowa community hall

Trafalgar: Siding or Crossing

Squeah: Emory Creek?

Yale: A concrete pad

Stout

Chapmans

Boston Bar: CN station moved andboarded up

Boothroyd

Inkitsaph

Falls Creek

Cisco: Bridges

Lytton: CN crossing

Gladwin

Thompson

Drynoch

Spence’s Bridge: CN stationfoundtion wall

Toketic: little old white church (?)

Spatsum

Basque: ranches

Semlin

Walhachin: Nothing

Savona

Munro

Cherry Creek

Tranquille

Kamloops: old station now a stopfor the Mountaineer

Ducks

Pritchard

Shuswap

Chase: Yard station

Squilax: Crossing

Elson

North Hill: "Notch" Hill ­ crossing

Carlin

Tappen

Salmon Arm: Station still on­site,boarded up

Canoe: Crossing

Sicamous: Foundations visible

Solsqua

Cambrie: Crossing

Melakwa: Crossing

Craigellachie: Tourist trap offhighway

Taft

Three Valley: Crossing, brokenplate

Clanwilliam

Revelstoke: Station

— 157

1932 CN

Hope: Station moved and now acommunity hall

Haig: Siding

Choate: Crossing

Yale: Concrete pad still there

Spuzzum: Passed right by

China Bar

North Bend: Bunk houses

Chaumox

Keefers

Kanaka: No way down (or up!)

Lytton: Siding

Gossett

Seddell

Skoonka

Spence’s Bridge: Foundation wall

Martel

Basque: Plaque for the third trans­Canada crossing

Ashcroft: Rail yard

McAbee

Anglesey

Walhachin: Nothing visible

Savona

Copper Creek

Frederick

Tranquille

Kamloops: Station

— 158

2013 The Canadian

Vancouver

Mission

Agassiz

Katz ?

North Bend

Ashcroft (CN station)

Kamloops North

Clearwater

Blue River

Valemount

— 159

land scopes

landscape (n.)

c.1600, "painting representing natural scenery," from Dutch

landschap, from Middle Dutch landscap "region," from land

"land" (see land) + ­scap "­ship, condition" (see ­ship).

Originally introduced as a painters' term. Old English had

cognate landscipe, and cf. Old High German lantscaf,

German Landschaft, Old Norse landskapr. Meaning "tract

of land with its distinguishing characteristics" is from 1886.

The landscape shows what we saw, from our point of view.

It pulls out what we see as the important features: this tree, that

mountain.

A landscape is a mirror on us too, of course. What we think is

important is represented and prioritized.

MapsThe landscape is a map, skewed to eye level. It shows the lay of the

land: this is where the mountain is, this is what the tree looks like.

Our current geometric view of maps has been determined through a

few centuries of abstracted bird­eye views (not human­eye views).

But that wasn’t always the case. Imagine ancient hominids traipsing

across an unknown continent. Would they sketch out views to show

where the river can be found?

Roman maps were maps of roads. They were abstract unscaled lines

labelling distances.

Appendix B

The LandscapePreliminary notes for an essay (or essai) on how to approach

representing a view in front of us.

— 160

And more recently, think of the medieval seaman’s portolan maps,

which often included a view of various cities as seen from sea. The

lanscape helped identify what was being looked at.

Our current birds­eye view overlaid with a precise grid changes when

we use Google Street View, where the map switches into the human­

view. The landscape reappears.

DocumentationWhen we show something in a setting we employ a different sort of

scope, and yet similar: we represent what we saw.

A landscape is documentation, but it can also be a portrait of items

inside.

Many scopesOur views are created by the eye’s grain of resolution: landscape (the

big picture), portrait (the thing), detail (a small part that somehow

says everything).

Our attention and sense of place change depending on the context of

subject in its represented space. With a landscape we scan the

horizon and subconsciously map the area. Where are the paths? How

do we move through this? A portrait invites us to face a subject in the

foreground, as if we were in the same room. Hello, how are you? A

detail puts us inches away. Intimate, close­up, as if it were in our

hands.

Our reaction to these scopes of view is determined by that grain of

resolution.

— 161

A problem sharing the experienceCulturally we have an overload of images. An exhibition of a thousand

photos of ‘what we saw’ will not share the enormity and ineffable

nature of experience.

We need a way to jar the sensibilities to provoke an epiphany of place.

Punctuated metonymiesMetonymy makes a part stand for the whole: a hand for a labourer, a

door for a house. These details work metaphorically, they assume we

already know the whole and can decipher the meanings of the detail.

They’re also powerful because they bring our view, our grain of ocular

vision into intimate closeness, as if we were inches away.

But too many details by themselves don’t provide a sense of context.

It’s easy for the sense of intimacy to be overwhelmed. After all, we can

only hold one item in our hands at a time.

With too many close­up details we’re no longer looking at “this object”

but at “this whole series of objects”. Our grain of resolution shifts from

close to farther away as we group them together into something bigger:

an exhibition.

But, if the details are punctuated by landscapes that push the view

back into a far­seeing mode the eye can later travel back to the details

and restore that sense of closeness.

— 162