Alarm goes off at 4 am. Telephone proves to be disconnected, as we suspected. An hour's worth of last minute jobs - antifreeze in the plumbing, scraps to the birds, pull the main power switch.
In town we pick up coffee to take to the train station. Station is overstating it considerably. It's next to the nice building that was once a station, but is a prefab about 24 feet squared. A chatty worker explains that he has to leave to help with the hospital's move to its new quarters. Translation: he is leaving us in charge of the waiting room. It is warm enough, heated by construction heaters fixed to the ceiling. There's even a sink, which has been clearly used as an ashtray. The coffee, as 5:30 becomes 6 and then 7, seems not to have been a brilliant idea. Two small compartments, neither of which appears to be a washroom, one padlocked and the other with a fist-sized hole underneath the doorknob. There's a bag of recycle tins in the corner and, interestingly, about a dozen and a half empty wine bottles. Signs of solace for the night crew or salvage from the dining car for a home winemaker short of bottles? No decor as such, but 6 copies of the same notice re scheduled time changes for trains from Hornepayne, as well as a bilingual no smoking notice, the French part carefully amended by hand to read "il n'est pas interdit de fumer dans cet Ètablissement."
At 7:30 the train arrives, and it's not crowded, so we get to spread out a bit. The sun has just risen and the first ponds we pass still have a partial film of ice on them, giving way to open water as it warms up. At Ottermere and Malachi there are boats still in the water and cottagers heading back from rail-only access spots. Two golden eagles soar off on our right.
The car is less than half full and we're sitting near two Chinese men, one young and busy with a computer and the other older. They've made themselves thoroughly at home - the older man heading off to the washroom with his coffee and the younger spreading out the snacks. We debate their origin. The book the young man is reading is in Chinese, as is the writng on the crisp packet, and all their conversation is in Chinese. On the other hand the travel mugs and the resealable plastic container full of peeled oranges suggest a domestic journey. Or is this a Leonard Cohen moment - tea and oranges that come all the way from China?
Bus to Ian and Susan's and then over to Jennifer and other (boyfriend) Ian's place. Lovely meal but almost asleep in front of the tv later - maple liqueurs or the 4 am start?
JAWORSKI TRAVELS