Wednesday, 9 June 2010
Jasper, Canada
Quick excursion up the Jasper Tramway. Don’t know why they call it a tramway. What they actually mean is a cable car. Whisks you up to 7,500ft for magnificent views back down into the valley and Jasper town below.
Of course, the higher the altitude, the colder it is. +2C to be precise. Brrrr. Quick walkabout at the top. Would have gone further but the ‘Beware of the Bear’ sign puts me off. There’s one roaming about apparently and not wanting to be gobbled up retreat back down to town. Where I have 2hrs to kill before the shuttle bus returns to the hotel on the outskirts.
After five minutes in Jasper you realise that 2hrs is too long and that five minutes is just about right. Assuming you don’t want to visit the local museum’s current exhibition.
A History of Aprons.
I kid you not, dear reader.
Killing time, check out the rail station and check in for my afternoon departure. Jobsworth tells me that I’ll have to check my bag in if it exceeds 23kg.
It does.
I won’t be doing that jobsworth.
Argue that it’s been OK on every train from Nottingham to Jasper.
He’s not having it.
I am.
Jobsworth insists it’s health and safety. Tosser.
An argument ensues.
And I don’t even have my rucksack with me. It’s still back at the hotel. I’m just doing a recce.
And so begins my introduction to Canadian health and safety. We’ll have an introduction to Canadian nonsense drinking laws in due course, dear reader.
Not wanting to part with rucksack and all the faff that that entails rearrange all the heavy books in my coat pockets [and writing ‘heavy books’ reminds me that this was in the days before Kindle e-readers]. Bottle of wine from Hornby Island goes in poacher’s pocket of coat. Feel like Inspector Gadget. Other heavy stuff goes in the daysack which unzips from the main rucksack to split the load.
Having sorted rucksack out it’s time to return to the station for the afternoon departure and overnight rail journey to Winnipeg. Find a seat away from jobsworth. Can see he’s taking heavy bags off other people to put in the storage car.
After a bit of observing, realise that I can bypass jobsworth and his stupid rules by going outside through another door on to the platform. And am soon in my cabin with all my possessions waving goodbye to Jobsworth of Jasper.
Told there’s some champagne on offer in the glazed Skydome car make my way and find a seat. To find everyone drinking champagne. Everyone being a group of old ladies. Sitting there expecting the steward, of the same vintage as the old ladies, to offer me a glass too. Sadly, he’s too busy talking/chatting up/charming the little old ladies. Ignoring the thirsty young Taurean. He’s far too busy to deal with me. No. He’s telling them about his hernia operation. Oh for God’s sake. Half an hour passes. Listening to him waffle and drone on. This is taking the whatsit. A little prompt is in order, dear reader. Cheeky sod replies with a stern, ‘Just a minute.’ Whoa.
The usual wash and brush up before dinner. In the coffin sized ensuite toilet. I’m quite broad. The toilet cubicle is quite narrow. I’m knocking the sides of the walls because of the motion of the train clickety clacking along the rails.
There’s a frantic knock on my cabin door.
“Is everything OK sir?”
Yeah why?
Ah I see.
Have been accidentally persistently pushing the emergency attendant call button.
Located at shoulder height.
