TRAIN TRAVEL

Why a 19th-century invention should become the 21st-century people-mover

by Charles Montgomery

There is a common theory about the great environmental crisis of our time. We are warned that any serious attempt to cut greenhouse gas emissions will doom us to lives of misery, tedium, limited food choices and dull vacations. We are told that we have to choose between living well and saving the planet.

It occurred to me at exactly 10:45 a.m. on a recent midsummer’s day that such considerations might be entirely wrong. And by 10:46 I was cruising toward a much more compelling notion: that the climate crisis might be an opportunity, a chance to regain the art of travel and return to a more civilized time, where the journey was not merely a hassle, not an obstacle to overcome, but a pleasure to be savoured as fully as the destination itself.

AMTRAK’s Adirondack cruises from Montreal to the Big Apple in a 14-hour overnight trip. Courtesy Amtrak

I know exactly what time these thoughts occurred, because my Paris-bound train had just left London’s Waterloo station right on schedule. I was contemplating the bad carbon karma I had already racked up by flying from Vancouver to London, when a steward with twinkling eyes approached. Observing the consternation on my face, he leaned toward me and gently cooed, “Champagne, monsieur?”

Champagne for breakfast. Pannier Brut Sélection NV, to be exact: an elegant blend with creamy brioche aromas, according to those who know about such things, yet totally wrong for a man attempting a few hours of carbon penance.

“Yes, of course!” I barked eagerly, and the bubbly flowed as the sun burst through the clouds, rendering the red bricks and railyards of London a holy shade of amber.

This journey was supposed to be about sacrifice, given that in my transatlantic flight from Vancouver to London I had contributed to pumping nearly a tonne of CO2 into the atmosphere. For if you are ever masochistic enough to calculate your own carbon footprint, you’ll realize that flying is just about the nastiest thing you can do to the planet. Each passenger on a transatlantic flight blows out about as much greenhouse gas as they would driving a Hummer to work for a year. Which means, as an occasional travel writer, I’ve flown enough in my life to merit a thousand lashes with a carbon-tipped whip.

It’s not that there isn’t hope for air travel. While fuel prices soar into the stratosphere, both government and corporate researchers are searching for cheap, alternative fuel sources for airplanes. But so far the prize has been elusive. Jet engines require a potent kerosene-like fuel that can withstand high altitudes and low temperatures, and engineers are now examining ways to power aircraft with hydrogen.

Meanwhile, to my way of thinking, rail has the upper hand. In fact, as early as 1901, the electric predecessors of the Paris-bound train I was riding were being adopted in Berlin, while today’s generation of electric trains can travel more than twice as fast as the speediest diesel-powered locomotives and – theoretically, at least – can be powered by distant solar, nuclear or wind turbines. And so I reasoned that, because my cross-channel train journey pumps out only a tenth of the carbon dioxide generated by flying from London to Paris, I’d arrive at my destination a little closer to carbon neutral and a lot closer to climate righteousness. Oh yes, I was ready to suffer for my sins.

The Indian Pacific. Courtesy Great Southern Rail

But things were not working out as anticipated. I had walked into the Eurostar terminal in Waterloo (Eurostar has since moved across the Thames to St. Pancras International Station) barely half an hour before my departure. Ticket confirmed, luggage scanned and passport stamped by French customs, all in a matter of minutes, I was then escorted onboard to a reserved window seat: an outrageously comfortable, moulded number that would be quite at home in an Austin Powers shag pad. I opened my newspaper to read about the chaos that summer rains were causing at Heathrow Airport. Thousands stranded. I toasted their patience.

As I sipped my Brut – it is really quite delightful how those bubbles swirl and pop beneath your nose – it struck me that if I had chosen to fly, I would still be en route to Heathrow. Once I reached the airport, I would then have to spend two hours being poked, prodded and herded through its infernal collection of duty-free shops, deep-fry vats and flocks of rumpled departure lounge castaways. And if my flight left on time – by no means a certainty at Heathrow – I would lift off at just about the moment my 10:40 a.m. Eurostar train was to pull into Gare du Nord in central Paris.

Forget, for a moment, that this train is très vite. And forget, as well, this traveller’s carbon guilt. These are footnotes, really, to the philosophical question that a rail journey naturally raises. Can the quality of an experience be judged by the distances we cross to claim it? Do we travel to collect miles, or do we travel for joy? Do we still believe that it’s not only where you go that’s important but also how you get there?

In the 1987 film Swimming to Cambodia, the late monologue artist Spalding Gray describes his theory of The Perfect Moment. No matter how unpleasant Gray’s journeys, he considered them incomplete – and he would soldier onward – until he had experienced that rarified moment. It might be nothing more than a brief feeling of transcendence felt while floating in, say, the Indian Ocean. But once he had collected his Perfect Moment, even if it occurred mere hours after first stuffing socks into suitcases, Gray would be ready to turn around and head for home.

THE ORIENT EXPRESS Complete with starched linens, boutique shopping and fine dining (beef carpaccio with juniper and coriander in red wine sauce, anyone?Courtesy the Orient-Express (www.orient-express.com

In this age of discount, fast-tracked globetrotting, it seems we have all been seduced by The Perfect Moment School of Travel. It dictates that no matter how many continents we have to cross, no matter how much pollution we spew, no matter how many affronts, security friskings and leg cramps we suffer en route, all that matters are those few seconds of postcard bliss on the other end. In other words, Perfect Moment-ism is corrupting that most ancient and noble axiom of travel: getting there should be something of an art.

It’s time to stop kidding ourselves. We’ve traded car camping, lazy weeks on nearby beaches and the clickety-clack of rail for the seductive possibility of getting as far away as we can, as quickly as possible. But I believe there is a better way, one that requires tossing out the math so many of us use to plan our vacations. It means trading maximum mileage for meandering. And if one thinks about it, I’d argue that the most climate-friendly means of travel are also the most pleasurable: the canoe drift; the bicycle tour, even the station-wagon safari to the summer cabin. But the grand dame of leisurely journeys is still the train. There is something deliciously cinematic about moving across this earth by rail. While air travel renders the world an abstraction from 20,000 feet, rail is inherently voyeuristic, offering peeks through the world’s back door.

Courtesy Great Southern RailI have a friend, a climate worrier, who decided to take the train from Vancouver to a job in Texas, even though the patchwork journey would take him the better part of a week. He insists he had a marvellous time. The trip was transforming, “like a dream.” And he thought, deeply. He thought like he hadn’t thought in years. I didn’t quite have the stamina for a week of introspection. But the Eurostar offered a glimpse as, after pulling out of the gothic station, we cruised through the graffiti-grit of rail industria. Overall-clad men loaded trucks with beer. Hobos dozed in the shadows of ancient walls. A pair of teenage boys smoked furtively among blackberry thickets, ignoring my gaze. I felt like a ghost, floating through.

Soon, the backyards of suburbia gave way to the streams and pastures of places in-between, where gumbooted Mr. Bean lookalikes chased sleepy Herefords. The English countryside rose and fell alongside the tracks like soft green ocean swells, and gradually the oak groves began to blur across my window.

The Europeans have never forgotten the joys of train travel. In fact, if the Eurostar is any indication, they have been refining it to an art. This train leaves on time – not an hour late, not a minute late. No excuses. The track is straight and swift, and becoming more so. (The train became the U.K.’s first high-speed route in November 2007, shortening the London-to-Paris trip from a full day to two and a quarter hours – a great shame, really, considering how little time this will leave for champagne.) Still, the Eurostar remains far more than a high-tech curiosity. More than 95 million passengers have ridden it under the English Channel since 1994. And while many arguably ride these rails for convenience, similar routes around the world are also drawing passengers who clearly care more about the journey than the destination.

Courtesy the Orient-Express (www.orient-express.com)

Take the Venice Simplon Orient-Express, which makes a sturdy overnight march from London to Venice, pulling in after a solid 17 hours on the rails. At U.S.$3,120 a sleeper, riders are not paying for speed, but for the experience of riding a lovingly-refurbished antique first used on the original Orient-Express of the 1920s and 30s – complete with starched linens, boutique shopping (the Express has its own Collection, including hand-blown French crystal and pearl earrings) and fine dining (beef carpaccio with juniper and coriander in red wine sauce, anyone?).

Much like modern-day cruise ships have revived the romance of ocean travel, luxury rail travel is again now having its day. The pampered few catch glimpses of the Taj Mahal from the gilded chambers of the Palace on Wheels as it winds through Rajasthan, India. They sip fancy cocktails and smoke Cuban cigars as they venture from Cape Town through the South African bush to Pretoria on the deliciously named Blue Train. They nibble on chocolate-dipped strawberries as they gaze at the serrated edges of the continental divide from the glass-domed cars of Canada’s Rocky Mountaineer. And they all learn, as generations of our travelling ancestors have, to adopt a particularly languid modus operandi. One must simply be prepared to doze, to dream and, particularly in North America, to spend plenty of hours on those tracks.

courtesy the Rocky Mountaineer

Take Via Rail’s Canadian, which ambles between Toronto and Vancouver. Yesterday’s traveller might consider the journey three days lost. But slowness can be a virtue. The train’s engineers are apparently so unhurried that they’ll take stop requests anywhere in the wilderness between Sudbury and Winnipeg. Want to go wandering up the third creek east of that grey hill? Just ask. They’ll dump you and your backpack wherever you like and continue on their way. Via can also do Toronto to Montreal in about four hours – just enough time to savour the roast-duck-breast napped with sweet cherry sauce served in Via 1 Class. Vancouver to Jasper is an overnight by sleeper. Amtrak’s Adirondack cruises from Montreal to the Big Apple in a 14-hour overnight trip.

If you let go of your hurry, rail can even roll you out of winter: Amtrak’s Coast Starlight connects Vancouver with the west coast of the U.S., rolling between Seattle, Portland and Los Angeles in a couple of leisurely days. (Of course, the soulful traveller would take time out to hit the public market in Seattle, the wineries of Napa and the cliffs of Yosemite National Park.)

The Ghan train / courtesy Great Southern Rail

And yes, it’s true, Canadian rail travel requires special patience. The network is aging and freight generally gets priority on the tracks, so one out of every four Via Rail trips arrives behind schedule. But things are changing. Federal stimulus funding is helping unplug routes such as the previously bottlenecked Montreal-Toronto corridor. And even Toronto’s Union Station will soon be restored to the historic grandeur of its 1927 opening, when the Prince of Wales proclaimed, “You build your stations like we build our cathedrals.”

Having flown Vancouver to London before boarding the Eurostar, I knew in my heart of hearts that I’d already burned any carbon offset my Eurostar trip might offer. But I resolved to enjoy it anyway. I accepted a pear from the steward – a perfect pear, actually: unblemished and chilled, so that it was now gleaming with dew. It was like a painting.

Courtesy the Orient-Express (www.orient-express.com)

I bit into my pear. I watched cloud shadows race across patchwork fields. I let the sound of the train lull me. The Eurostar did not roar like a jet. It did not clickety-clack like The Little Engine that Could. It whooshed with calm efficiency. And against that rushing air was a sound that air travellers just don’t hear anymore: the tinkling, almost musical percussion, of silverware. I looked down and, yup, there they were, wrapped in a linen napkin: my own stainless steel knife and fork, sharp edges and all. It seemed a symbol of all that was good and right and dignified about this journey.

There were other sounds, too: giggling. I peered between the seats ahead of me, where two middle-aged women were mixing themselves mimosas. One had polished her long fingernails a burnished silver. The other had sequins woven into her black T-shirt. The latter caught my eye and winked.

“To Paris!” they bawled in Jersey accents, then downed their flutes.

Ah, yes, we were headed for Paris. I had almost forgotten, lost in what was becoming a seamless collage of dozing and perfect moments. The train slowed a touch. We glided through the Kent hills, sank gradually beneath the youthful grass of spring, down through the skin of the earth, into the darkness of the Channel Tunnel, where we could imagine the city to come.

Winding through the eucalyptus-filled Blue Mountains to the arid Nullarbor Desert, Great Southern Rail's three-night journey features the world’s longest straight stretch of railway track.Courtesy Great Southern Rail

The World’s Top 25 Rail Journeys, including Westworld writers on Russia/Mongolia/China’s Trans-Siberian Railway, Australia’s Ghan, South Africa’s Blue Train and Canada’s Rocky Mountaineer/VIA’s Trans-Canada route.

The A-trains:  10 dreamy rail vacations to stoke your boiler

by Sonu Purhar

• Eurail
Across Europe
From Bulgaria to Ireland and everything in between, Eurail is the wandering soul’s key to the continent. The number of countries and length of travel determine which rail ticket is best suited to the individual — though with every stop an invitation to explore a new culture, the comprehensive Global Pass is the most tempting option.

• Great Southern Rail
Sydney to Perth, Australia (The Indian Pacific)
Winding through the eucalyptus-filled Blue Mountains to the arid Nullarbor Desert, this three-night journey down the world’s longest straight stretch of railway track (478 km) showcases Australia’s startling contrasts — from vantage points up to 1,000 metres above sea level. Keep an eye out for the wedge-tailed eagle. The massive avian is the Indian Pacific Railway’s official mascot.

Snow-capped Rockies, golden Prairies and thundering Niagara Falls — Canada’s natural landmarks are best explored by rail.Courtesy the Rocky Mountaineer

• The Rocky Mountaineer/VIA Rail
Vancouver to Toronto, Canada (Trans-Canada Rail Adventure)
Snow-capped Rockies, golden Prairies and thundering Niagara Falls — Canada’s natural landmarks are best explored by rail. And this 13-day, cross-country exploration includes motorcoach and helicopter tours, national park passes and nine-nights’ hotel accommodation.

• Trans-Siberian Railway
Moscow, Russia, to Beijing, China (Trans-Siberian line)
The longest rail line ever constructed, the Trans-Siberian crosses one-third of the globe and spans more than seven time zones. Four routes connect Russia to the Far East, and though the landscape is spectacular, it’s the eclectic mix of passengers that makes the journey unforgettable.

• Chihuahua-Pacific Railroad
Chihuahua to Los Mochis, Mexico
Known to the locals as Ferrocarril Chihuahua al Pacifico, or El Chepe, this refurbished train follows what is reputed to be one of the world’s most scenic rail routes. Highlights include the vast Copper Canyon, seven times larger than the Grand Canyon; a series of rustic, off-the-path villages; and a visit with the swift-of-foot Tarahumara tribe.

• The Darjeeling Himalayan Railway
New Jalpaiguri to Darjeeling, West Bengal, India
One of the few railways that is also a World Heritage Site, the Darjeeling’s century-old engineering allows for sharp, spiralling ascents over Himalayan terrain. Passing through the soaring Mahaldirum Range and over the rushing Mahanadi River, this half-day tour is so breathtaking, Mark Twain is said to have called his DHR experience the most enjoyable day of his life.

• Shangri-La Express
Beijing/Xian, China, to Goldmund/Lhasa, Tibet
According to locals, “Shangri-La” is a mythic paradise hidden beyond the Himalayas — and that’s exactly what this 12-night rail trip seeks. Two possible routes venture to the “roof of the world,” Tibet, with the highest altitude reached topping 5,000 metres (oxygen is pumped aboard). Stops include Beijing’s Forbidden City and the Dalai Lama’s Summer Palace in Lhasa.

Empire Builder at Havre Station, Mont. Courtesy Amtrak

• Amtrak
Chicago, Seattle or Portland to Montana, U.S. (Empire Builder Train)
The U.S. is known for its national parks, and this 14-day pioneer-themed journey explores five of the most scenic: Glacier, Yellowstone, Grand Teton, Arches and Canyonlands. The route follows portions of Lewis and Clark’s famous trail, with such notable sights as the lazy Mississippi, temperamental Old Faithful and other geological, natural and wildlife marvels of the American West.

• Rovos Rail
Cape Town to Pretoria, South Africa
The five-star luxury of this refurbished 19th-century “cruise train,” which may be hauled by steam, diesel or electric locomotives throughout the journey, is ideal for experiencing exotic South Africa. History reigns supreme: as the train trundles across centuries-old veldt and past ancient towns, its period décor, after-dinner champagne and traditional white-glove service recall the glamour of a bygone era.

• The Royal Scotsman
Scotland tour
Sparkling lochs, sprawling moors and overnights in ancient castles are just a taste of the itinerary offered by this travelling luxury hotel. On-board meals reflect seasonal Scottish specialties (guests have the option of donning kilts at dinner); evening entertainment includes Highlanders regaling passengers with tales of life in old Scotland.  ?

Recommended: Purchase rail tickets prior to departure, as many countries offer substantial discounts on advance bookings.

>> 4 of the World’s Top 25 Rail Journeys

>> The World’s Top 25 Rail Journeys (2009)

Lead photo: courtesy Helena Zukowski