Tag Archives: train travel

Lake Baikal

Boarding the train at Barabinsk the last stop is Irkutsk. The ‘Paris of Siberia’ we are told. We do not believe. It is a little dour as cities go (even for Russia). It has some of the scale of Russian cities visited but without the sparkle. We are now deep in the depths of Siberia and for that reason alone it is exciting.

From Irkutsk it is possible to reach Lake Baikal, the largest (and possibly oldest) fresh water lake in the world. It has been there for twenty five million years. This is all very impressive and stories go, as they so often do, that a dip in the icy waters will bring eternal youth. I’m afraid I ducked out of the challenge and instead opted to crochet. There are no particularly sheltered spots anywhere, least of all at the lakeside. So after regaining feeling in my fingers I chose to place three pebbles on a piece of driftwood and left them to fend for themselves.

Lake Baikal, 2013 (Louise Kenward)

This time last year…

Leave a reply

…I left Bexhill. An hour on the train and 37 miles later and the world awaits. The first and arguably most crucial step, I was escorted by Sam from the Community Rail Partnership. I discover this stretch of line, the ‘Marshlink’ is not a popular route. I am stunned. The gateway to Europe and the world is waiting at (the now renamed) ‘Ashford International’. Since the Channel Tunnel opened, Ashford is the last stop before France, Belgium, Germany, and from there, well anything is possible. Train travel alone can take you to Singapore, India, Central Asia, North Africa.

The ‘Marshlink‘ is a hidden gem, a beautiful journey in itself. I can’t believe I haven’t made this trip before (on leaving the train at Ashford I had already promised myself to take this line more often, mentally planning future travel itineraries). Along the south coast with the shore line and coloured beach huts, and then up into the marshes (as it’s name suggests) with the open landscape of wilderness and wilds. I missed much of the scenery, engaged in animated conversation with Sam, so pledge to return for that part of the trip again.

Here we go…leaving Bexhill, UK (Louise Kenward, 2013)

Living in the south east of England, it is often under the shadow of London. To travel anywhere you must first reach or cross, or circumnavigate the city. Access to London is fantastic (debates around train services aside), I am grateful it is so close, but to go anywhere else in the UK it’s a time consuming irritant. I recently spent a particularly tedious afternoon rediscovering the M25 between junctions 4 and 5 in great detail. The only direction you can go without encountering the capital’s metropolis is south. When you live on the south coast this is pretty restrictive. The opening of the Channel Tunnel has changed this. Growing up in Kent, I remember writing about the prospect of the Channel Tunnel at school, a fairly fruitless exercise on arguing a debate. I didn’t know very much about it, there were some vague fears about being physically connected to France and the risk of animals with rabies wandering through, security risks and generally being closer to France. I was intrigued by the discovery that this had not been the first time such a venture had been mooted. The first proposal was in 1802. Albert Matieu was a French engineer with ambitions of digging the tunnel by oil lamp and with horse drawn carriage. In 1881 a pilot tunnel was made with a boring machine, stretching 1,893 metres from Shakespeare Cliff, and 1,669 metres from Sangatte. In 81 years the tunnel had made an average of almost 44 metres growth per annum. It did not seem promising. Coincidentally this was also the time Annie Brassey was venturing around the world on the ‘Sunbeam‘. The project was abandoned the following year owing to concerns a tunnel would jeopardise national defence. Sitting in my classroom I did not imagine for a moment it would happen. 2014 brings the twentieth birthday of the Channel Tunnel’s opening.

It was only later I learned that my uncle was involved in it’s construction. An explosives expert, there is a photograph album full of images of rock and dark spaces, wires and labourers as he documented his time there. Often with connected tales of camaraderie and work mates. So I feel some personal connection with the tunnel. Living so close to the entrance the opportunities for travel are amazing and, in part, provided the inspiration for my journey around the world. This time last year I arrived at Ashford, the first section of my journey complete. Small but perfectly formed, and in good company.

Ashford International, Louise Kenward (2013)

Taking the train from Montreal to New York

Leave a reply

Before leaving for the big apple and heading to New York, I spent my last afternoon in Canada wandering the streets of Montreal feasting on samples of fine wines, chocolates and fois gras. Shown around by a local, Camilla was one of the lovely new friends I had made the previous week in Nova Scotia. We spend the sunny warm afternoon in one of my favourite ways – wandering aimlessly with no particular place to go. This was the third visit of my trip to this wonderful city, acting as the gateway to Quebec and Nova Scotia, as well as the US of A. A city of festivals, we managed to pause long enough on our eating and walking schedule to watch street performers and acrobats while listening to a number of musicians warming up for performances at the opening Jazz Festival. The two acrobats captivated me particularly, suspended from long red ribbons, winding themselves up and hurling themselves back down again. Incredibly graceful and fluid movements creating a passionate narrative of tryst and torment.

Montreal to New York, Bexhill to Bexhill - Louise Kenward (2014)

Montreal to New York, Louise Kenward (2014)

Another twelve hours on the train, from Montreal to New York would be the last train journey for me for a while. The journey takes me along great stretches of waterway through the Hudson Valley. The attendants are rather sterner than I have been used to (possibly since Russia!). There are a whole series of announcements about keeping the toilet clean, how it wont be cleaned before we reach New York, so the mess you make will not ‘go away’; of putting your rubbish in relevant receptacles, and in those in carriages not trash cans in toilets; of the consequences of putting rubbish in the toilets…not one you really want to test. And so on. I felt like a naughty teenager, reprimanded before even settling into my seat for the day. As it turned out, the refreshments were not as varied as I had hoped either, although I was relieved to discover that the nice man at the counter had been to replenish the tea bag supply personally. I feared I may be in for a rude awakening and it set the scene for New York leaving me slightly on edge.

Montreal to New York – view from a train, Louise Kenward (2014)

Arriving at night I launched myself at the subway system feeling a little jaded but adrenaline fuelled. I had no idea where ‘uptown’ ‘downtown’ or ‘midtown’ was I just had a name of a station and street address of my accommodation. Of course ‘uptown’ ‘midtown’ and ‘downtown’ now make complete sense and are entirely logical, but arriving at night after a day of travelling, having spent the previous weeks in one of the sleepiest, quietest, most peaceful places I’ve visited, I was not especially equipped.

After sitting at the wrong platform for about 20 minutes a guard came to my rescue and escorted me to the correct platform. I was eternally grateful and felt more than a little bit daft. It also served to shatter any illusions I had of the metropolis of Manhattan and the cut throat nature (figuratively and literally) with which it can be portrayed. I soon negotiated street numbers and learned to identify east from west, north from south, and arrived just in time to go to bed, excited about what I would see when the sun came up.

I think waking up in a new place is one of the most exciting things I have enjoyed. Whether it is on a train or arriving somewhere after dark and getting up the next morning to discover a whole new world. New York did not disappoint…

The end of the line (reaching Nova Scotia)

Leave a reply

Arriving in Halifax I have completed the 6 days and 3781 mile journey across Canada arriving at the Atlantic Ocean. And while it seems entirely out of sync with the rest of the trip it seems essential to hire a car. Shuttles and bus services are limited and expensive so I will bite the bullet and learn to drive on the wrong side of the road. There is too much to see and too much time to spend here not to.

Egypt Falls, Cape Breton (Louise Kenward, 2014)

Priority is the Cabot trail, the 185 mile round trip of Cape Breton for the most beautiful coastline that does not seem to ever end. The tourist season is not yet in full swing and it feels as though I (almost) have the place to myself. The biggest and warmest welcome I have received anywhere greets me at Whycocomagh and a place where I have felt at home, making firm friends with people I have since met up with again on the remainder of my journey (and with future plans for Vienna).

Ingonish Beach, Cape Breton (Louise Kenward, 2014)

Watching humming birds feed while overlooking the incredible Bras d’Or Lake (UNESCO Biosphere Reserve) over breakfast was just for starters. The Cabot Trail takes in Pleasant Bay, one of the best places in the world to see whales from land, the cute town of Baddeck and the wonderful Ingonish beach, with opportunities for walking and eating as well as endlessly stopping for photographs. On the last stretch the highlight was seeing a moose, tentatively at first dipping her toes in the water and then wading in for a swim in the lake to cool off after a gorgeous summers day.

Leaving Cape Breton with heavy boots, I headed to the ferry for Prince Edward Island stopping at soothing Cape Prim where the gentle waters were hypnotic and the beaches and rocks are red, even more stunning against the blue of the ocean. Charlottetown is a popular next stop and another pretty town with markets and harbour front. My journey then continued back across the immense Confederation Bridge (8 miles long!) into New Brunswick and across to Nova Scotia for more endless coastline beauty.

Cape Prim, Prince Edward Island (Louise Kenward, 2014)

Lupins, Nova Scotia (Louise Kenward, 2014)

Driving was not a chore, so much to see, forever a pretty cove or harbour, nestle of boats and glorious sunset. Heading south to Mahone Bay and Lunenburg (where the whole town is UNESCO listed) I was very pleased to still have a few days for exploring. Another tiny ferry across the couple of hundred yards of water from one side to the other, reaching my destination of La Have. On arrival there is a wonderful bakery with an even more wonderful artists co-op on the waters edge. Talking to one of the artists who makes glass teardrops of ocean (a favourite and most treasured souvenir) she told me of the incredible museum with a necklace and a story that lies just beyond La Have. A museum dedicated to just about everything and anything remotely related to the area sits along from Crescent Beach. Treasures including a necklace found in a fish caught near by many years ago and donated by a small girl was the object I had visited to see. The necklace having won first prize for the most bizarre thing found in a fish, an annual competition I think.

Chester Harbour, Nova Scotia (Louise Kenward, 2014)

Lunenburg, Louise Kenward (2014)

A place of quaint nostalgia, of another earlier quieter time, yet also of hard working fishing communities who have suffered greatly in the elements and ravages of hurricanes and storms, not to mention the brutal never ending winters. I left just before Hurricane Arthur arrived, the first of the season.

A place of many layers, on the surface it could easily be mistaken for a beautiful and wild retreat or escape, but beyond the surface much more lies beneath, all the more captivating. The most incredible end to my journey across Canada. Another little piece of me was left in Nova Scotia.

Cape Breton, Louise Kenward (2014)