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Cobourg For the Day - Execution

The alarm is set for 5 a.m. I drop off to sleep around ten and I am wide awake at two. I think I lie awake until the alarm goes off, but I must have drifted off to sleep. Perhaps I was only dreaming that I was awake ...

By 5:30 I am ready to leave; twenty minutes too soon. Since I had prepared everything the night before, fifty minutes is too long and thirty would have done it.

Here I am in Union Station. True to form their Windows based system has failed to reboot.

I find the line, shuffle forwards, and am directed to car 4 and make my way to seat 9D.

To my great disappointment while technically I have a “window-seat” only a small portion of window is available for viewing. I had specifically asked for a seat from which I could take photos. Instead I get a bit of window and a great piece of vinyl-clad pillar. I steam for a minute or two then tell myself that VIA Rail clerks are there mainly to collect paychecks and benefits until the pension kicks in.

Why should they care about my pleasure on a trip. Sit down; shut up; and you’ll get there.

Bonus points: This train is WiFi equipped and has two power outlets, one for each seat. I could have brought along my electric jug and made my own tea or coffee instead of paying $2.25.

A young lady prepares to sit in front of me. Very politely I explain that I am on holiday and want to take photos, but the VIA rail clerk has not assigned me a full window seat, and would she mind exchanging seats. She is Canadian and too polite to switch seats in case it upsets the VIA Rail police, but, she suggests, perhaps the person behind me might switch.

A young lady prepares to sit behind me. Very politely I explain that I am on holiday and want to take photos, but the VIA rail clerk has not assigned me a full window seat, and would she mind exchanging seats. She is Canadian and too polite to refuse to switch seats so we switch. I reach forward from 10D between the seats, to where she is now sitting in 9D and place a $5 bill in her hand. She protests, but I insist “Have a coffee on me when you get to where you are going”.

We pull out on time and I soon determine that the threat of rain and even thunderstorms is exaggerated. The Cirro-Cumulus clouds are a sure sign that we will have perfect weather today in Cobourg.

We slow down into Guildwood and come to a halt while the train crew unfold the various hinged ladders so people can get out of the train, people descend, people ascend, and the train crew hoist up the ladder apparatus.

There you are; we are off again, somewhere between three and five minutes for the stop. If you include the time to slow down and the time to get back up to speed, a stop probably costs close to ten minutes.

Here we are at the wetlands at the mouth of the Rouge River. Fred and I canoed this spot a couple of years ago.

Bridges to connect to the 407 toll road, I guess, have been built across the highway 401 just to the north of the rail tracks.

Whoosh! We go past thickets and spinneys.

One crew member begins checking tickets until a second crew member appears with a trolley, and ticket-inspection is delayed until after coffee is served at $2.25 per paper cup, poured from a thermos.

I didn’t buy an over-rated beverage but was amused to find that all the ashtrays were welded shut and there were no little cup-holders, nor a fold-down tray on which to place the hot beverage of one’s choice.

At 7:17 we stop after slowing down near Whitby. We pull gracefully to a halt and from the PA I learn that we are “stopped for signals”. I hope that it’s just that the signalman has taken a break, and not that the equipment has failed. I wouldn’t put it past VIA Rail to compete with Go Transit and the Toronto Transit Commission for “signal failure” events.

I laugh inwardly at the announcement Welcome aboard Trains Fifty and Sixty for Ottawa and Montreal. Both trains will stop at Cobourg, ...”. Huh? I thought I was on a train, but no, I am on TWO trains, and when I descend at Cobourg I see that this is so. Somewhere east of here the crew will unhook the train partway along and each sub-string will continue to its destination.

My ticket reads “VIA 050” and I am in the second train, the rake at the rear, so this train will head northerly towards Ottawa while the front train-part will steam on towards Montreal.

The PA system is harsh, shrill, noisy. The train itself is quiet, so I’m not sure what noise they are trying to overcome. The announcements are long and rapid-fire; I am certain that a foreigner would not understand half of what comes out, first in English and then in French.

We flash past an incoming GO Train heading for Toronto, and I know that the impression is that of two Transilean trains crossing. We are shorter, but the passing GO Train is still a locomotive and ten carriages, so the length is about right.

I realize that for a later train I could travel by Toronto Transit Commission or GO Transit to Guildwood and catch the VIA Train there; it might work out a few dollars cheaper.

The inspector comes to check tickets and unlike most other passengers, my ticket can be used as a bookmark, not as a telephone.

There is much confusion when I pre-empt inspection of the nice lady’s ticket. I had mis-read my ticket as “9D” but that was the return half; I was supposed to be in 7D. So I had swapped the wrong seat. The nice lady gets shunted up to 7D, a little old lady slides sideways into 9D, and everyone gives filthy looks to the jerk in 10D.

I think that this was an exurb of Port Hope, but I’d have to go back to Google maps to be sure.

I specifically asked for a north-side seat figuring to avoid taking photos into direct sunlight, but the train weaves back and forth and I am occasionally blinded by the sun. This early in the morning this is to be expected as the train is traveling, roughly, eastwards.

And here we are on the outskirts of Cobourg. I take a shot of the water tower; it is certain to be a significant landmark and an aid to my navigation.

I alight (British train upbringing!) and take a photo of the front of our trains. The lead locomotive and three carriages is going to Montréal, and the second locomotive and trailing carriages is going to Ottawa. They split the train at Kingston, I think.

Here is the rear of my train, pulling out of Cobourg Station.

I see no signs that say “Downtown Cobourg”, but the sun shines in the east and I know that I am north of the business district, so I decide to head down a leafy avenue towards a road that sports cars and vans and trucks.

I look back. I have emerged from this quaint red-brick building that is in a state of repair, probably as a result of a Heritage Grant.

What is that modern monstrosity in the distance? Is it a new station building? Let’s go take a look ...

In the lobby stands a soft-drink dispenser. Whoever installed it figured it made sense to place it so that it blocks the notice board.

Here’s a closer view; that’s right. I have learned that from here I can go to Ottawa, Montreal, Kingston and Toronto. But when, and on what days? That is the question!

I have walked to the west end of modern-monstrosity and see stairs.

This glorious structure is a footbridge!

My mind goes back to the wooden footbridges of my childhood in Lancashire and of my youth in Perth. Those footbridges were modeled on the plastic AirFix kits I used to assemble – a lattice-work of timbers. The sort of thing you could probably buy from IKEA nowadays, had they put there minds to it.

Why in the name of all that’s expensive do we need an industrial-strength four-story monster to carry foot-traffic across a railway line? The Answer will be found at the end of this web page, dear reader.

This map shows my stroll from the VIA rail station south down Division Street to the business area, then east and west along King Street, described below.

Off I set, southwards down what I think is Division Street and am rewarded by a bus heading northwards. Woo Woo. I spend the rest of my walk looking over my shoulder in case a southbound bus is creeping up on me. Later I realize that there are only two southbound buses per hour anyway.

And it is not even a twenty-minute walk anyway.

On I go in the fresh air of a summer’s morning. Here’s another landmark for navigation, a steepled church.

The gardens I’ve seen so far are beautiful. This garden has a basket of pelargoniums and the blossoms are a dark red.

On my western side of the street I come to St Michael’s Church. This building is 120 years old this year.

The brickwork has been re-pointed, or perhaps painted over. Still and all it looks clean and tidy.

Now I am alongside my second landmark.

Trinity United Church.

And then a little further on a cupola on a tower, usually a sign of The Town Hall in a rural town.

I make it to the main street and some interesting shops. This one, “Coburg Antique Marketplace” sadly, is closed on Mondays.

The famous ice-cream shop is open Sunday through Sunday from 11 a.m. onwards. I might, I just might return here later in the day ...

Now this is Odd. Over the weekend I was reading the spring 2015 issue of ACORN which described this record-breaking stagecoach run in a two-page article.

I feel at home already.

A book-shop – hurray!

Closed on Mondays. Boo!

It’s not a Book-shop, it’s a Boo!-shop.

Dan’s Books and Games.

Closed Mondays.

Are you spotting a pattern here?

I’m not only spotting a pattern, I’m making a resolution. Can you guess what it is?

This shop probably has some old VHS tapes and DVDs, real cheap; ideal for a collector like me ...

... if I were here any day except Monday.

Premium coffees are at a premium. I have walked past the bakery thinking to find a coffee-coffee shop; struck out here.

I ended up at the Buttermilk and was treated to an excellent sausage and egg breakfast, refills of coffee, while I read my copy of The Toronto Star.

Then off to find the bus terminal.

Don’t be misled; Cobourg has FOUR bus routes, not two. The four bus routes are called Route 1, Route 2, Route 1, and Route 2.

Here’s how it works. The route 1 bus pulls out of the terminal at 45 minutes past the hour, wanders around the south-west corner of town and then makes its way back to the terminal, which it leaves at ten minutes past the hour to begin an inspection of the north-west corner of town before returning here in time to repeat the process at 45 minutes past the hour.

The route 2 bus has a similar pattern – leave here at 15 past the hour, head up to the north-western suburbs and be back here at the bus terminal in time to set off (at 42 minutes past the hour) to patrol the north-eastern fringes.

Each route has two lobes.

I am puzzled that the buses aren’t synchronized to be at the bus terminal at the same time; it is easy to transfer from the Route 2 to the Route 1 between forty-past and forty-five-past the hour; it is easy to transfer from Route 1 to Route 2 at ten-past to quarter-past the hour. But never in the opposite sense!

A Wheel-Trans like bus pulls up. Passengers waiting with me call out “Are you the number two?”; YES yells back the driver above the racket of the diesel engine. We scramble aboard and I think how clever they are in Cobourg. Instead of having a fleet of regular buses and a fleet of wheel-trans buses they just have a fleet of wheel-trans buses.

We do a little jig around the downtown core then set off northwards up Division Street and explore the north-east suburbs. I recognize these streets for I drove through them a couple of years ago.

It turns out that the regular Route 2 bus is “off” which I why we are in a wheel-trans bus. None the less I have obeyed the signs and have fastened my seat belt. After all, if the driver isn’t that familiar with this bus ...

But no one else does up their seat belts. I think I know too much about Newtonian Mechanics to ignore a seat belt when it is offered.

Cobourg is a community, the passengers are chatty. One lady tells me that a monthly pass is only $30 for seniors, seniors being defined, she says, as 60 or older. “So” I gallantly ask, “How much do YOU pay for your regular monthly pass. She laughs and the lady bus-driver gives me bonus points.

I hear the controller over the CB radio calling Unit 095, our bus number. “You want me or Adrian” responds our driver. “Adrian!”.

These little buses I learn as the day goes by, rattle so loud that we can’t hear each other speak, so most conversational pieces are repeated two or three times. I’ll be glad to ride a “regular bus”.

Almost all of the houses I saw were clean with neat gardens. This front yard sports a camper-trailer nestled tidily into a corner.

Our driver has improvised a fare collection bin from two coffee cups. I make a joke about wondering when she’ll have enough to buy us all a coffee and everyone laughs.

I say everyone, but that’s me, the driver, and the other two passengers.

Hooray! A genuine wheel-trans passenger in a wheel-chair. I take the opportunity to turn around and take a shot of the spacious rear of the bus.

The background tells me that we are at Northumberland Mall.

And so back to the bus terminal where we wave goodbye (temporarily) to route 2 and here comes route 1 – a proper bus, albeit more of a midi- than a maxi-

The seats are fabric-covered in the graffiti-resistant scheme that I’ve seen in other towns and cities.

And so for the fourth or fifth time today I pass through the intersection of King and Division streets.

I am sitting towards the rear of the bus. There is a single longitudinal seat in front of me, but it sits forward on stretchers to clear the rear wheel, and I make use of the stretchers for a foot-rest.

The older parts of town sport large trees, a common scene in rural towns in the north-eastern corner of the continent.

I find that if I sit up straight in this regular bus, here in the rear portion, my view is obstructed, so I slouch back down. My back will pay me back for this tomorrow.

A small flood of children materialize accompanied by a parent clutching party balloons. The children are excited to meet each other. Schoolmates? I ask the adult whose birthday party it is, but she says the balloons came from a store promotion and ... I check my map-cum-schedule and think ‘This noise can’t last more than twelve minutes”.

Here’s an odd thing. This lady is half of a couple. I kept seeing them on the buses throughout the day. They are residents and perhaps they had to do the shopping at 11 because the doctor’s appointment as at one and the dentist at three. I got the impression that they were riding around to fill in the long hours of the day.

Maybe they run a shop and Monday is their day off.

Here’s that water-tower I spotted on my way in on the train

.

Another shot of the tower.

Here we are at Wal-Mart, off to the north from Northumberland Mall. Time past the hour doubles as a bus stop number.

Note that the bus stop says “:27” and that’s it.

I figure that if you roll up to catch the bus at, say, forty minutes past the hour, you know straight away that you may as well go sit and have a coffee, or do some window-shopping.

Inside Northumberland Mall is peaceful. Where is everybody?

Some stores are closing’ “Lease Ending” sounds to me more like “Rent has gone up and it’s not worth renewing the lease”.

I hop on to the Port Hope Shuttle. Another mini-bus which easily accommodates the crowd.

The fare is a mere $1.50 – what a bargain!

Seats are vinyl and, this being Cobourg, graffiti-free.

Again the water tower. OK. Enough already!

We head west out of town along what I think is Highway 2.

And ten minutes later I discover that this bus is more than a shuttle. Port Hope, like Cobourg, has two buses – Routes A and B – and route B tours town and then heads off to Cobourg and back. So for the cost of a $1.50 cash fare I get to ride from Cobourg to Port Hope and get a tour of Port Hope as well!

I am walking across the Ganaraska River.

I remember Port Hope, too, from an earlier visit which lasted just long enough to inspect a second-hand book shop and, I think, buy an ice-cream.

Who Knew? The creator of he Human Cannonball act was raised here and died here.

I stop at Queenies (or is it Dreamers?) and splurge on a small tub of home-made iced-cream. Yummy!

The town of Port Hope is beautiful and clean.

Well, almost. Someone has stuffed these two bins full of domestic or commercial garbage.

It is still Monday and still “Sorry we’re closed”.

This store is closed for half the week.

I faked a double-selfie but chickened out on the third angled window.

This sign intrigued me. I was sure that it wasn’t a typo as in “baubles and gems”. Conversation with the manager reveals that the original male owner ran a jewelry store and his wife decided to sell a few soaps. Hence “Bubbles”.

Then the husband died or sold out and the wife took over and gradually dropped the line of soaps but felt it wasn’t worthwhile changing the name ...

Canadian flags fly right along this portion of the main street.

The Art Gallery is closed Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays.

The bus driver told me to catch the bus back “outside the town hall” and I mistook this building for the town hall.

It is the public library.

Like so many public libraries, this was originally a gift of the benefactor Carnegie.

“Ask a librarian” always works, and the friendly lady takes me through the library and points out the bus stop through a window.

I can’t resist taking photos of the hanging baskets.

At last! The town hall.

Most times I stop at war memorials and silently read the names one by one.

Most of these names would represent young men, young adults; just married or about to be married.

This is not a good shot, but it tries to show the two bridges over the river. The nearer bridge appears to be higher than the farther bridge.

Learn something every day. Port Hope used to be called “Toronto”.

And here are the two buses. Unlike Cobourg, Port Hope coordinates its buses so that a transfer can easily be made. That is Route A in front; I am going to hop on Route B and be shuttled back to Cobourg.

I hop aboard and as we trundle out of town to Cobourg ($1.50) we flash past what looks like a model shop – did the sign say “The Dollar House & Train Engineers”? I must check the world-wide-web

I am impressed by the stack of maps, above the two air-vents in this poor photo; vibration in these buses is something awful.

But then I recognize that a town that has but two buses to service two routes won’t support a Bus terminal with a Head office and a Counter Staff with Inventory Control.

Which makes Port Hope and Cobourg ahead of the Hamilton Street Railway.

I switch from the Port Hope Shuttle back to the Cobourg Route 1. I could have saved a dollar on the transfer but frankly at $1.50 and $2 a ride I just couldn’t be bothered.

I walk west along King Street past the Buttermilk Café where I made my breakfast.

King Street is a manicured garden ...

... all the way along ...

... until I reach the Public Library, whose building is about twenty years old.

I had not heard of Southern Ontario Library Service as such, but my enquiry inside made it clear to me. If I would like a copy of material held in another library, my library (in my case Toronto Public Library) can ask for an inter-library loan from, say, Hamilton, or Guelph or ...

As is my custom I wander the library looking at how their Holds system works and my eye is drawn to this map on the wall. Now I have to find out what a Stemboat is.

Inside the library building, but separate from the library is the Public Archives “Please Drop In”, so I do.

Mandy spends a half-hour with me showing and telling me something of what’s involved in archiving. I understand some of it from my background in Library Services and Data processing. A team of volunteers comes in the do basic data transcription and cataloguing.

I head off back to the downtown core and the rain begins. So much for Cirro-cumulus clouds!

The business district is not far, I can see it from here, but I duck into a sandwich shop and order, pay for, and drink a cup of coffee that tastes as if it was brewed in the morning of Yesterday.

I visit the town hall and spot this little bit of ammunition for an on-line discussion ...

... and arrive back at the terminal in time to see Route 1 pull out without me.

The streets are damp, the rain threatens to return. I have had a good day exploring Cobourg AND Port Hope; enough to let me decide whether to return for another day. The time has come to sit. And Think.

I catch Route #1 when it returns from its first lobe and the driver drops me off at the stop at the corner of Division and Munroe Streets. I have over an hour before my train leaves and I wander around a bookstore – whose name I forget – and then up the leafy avenue to the Cobourg VIA Rail station. Which sounds strange because Cobourg has only one rail station.

My train is running late, the screen says, well over an hour before my train was supposed to arrive, so I’ll check out The Monstrosity at a leisurely pace,

Here it is, a footbridge, seen from the western end of the platform. I have learned that both eastbound and westbound trains stop at this first platform. Is it already single-track running this close to Toronto?

This is a zoom shot from the same point.

I decide to use the footbridge, as if my train arrived on the other side.

Fifty-seven steps; and yes, there is an elevator, large enough to hold a small four-wheeler sedan.

From a viewing window I look out to the tracks. The track nearest the camera is what I had thought would be my westbound track. The remaining three tracks are local yard tracks, and I am struck by how much they resemble the thirty-six inch lengths of flexible track I used to buy as a teenager. Or vice-versa.

Same level; here’s the view looking westward. My earlier spot is in the distance, left-hand side. Same comment on tracks of my teenage years.

I return to the platform and sit as a rainstorm passes. These are the splashes made by thick fat drops of rain. Podcasts are wonderful things!

The roof leaks. Here is a waterfall descending to a spot not ten feet from where I sit.

The train arrives and we pull out just nine minutes behind schedule.

I am disappointed that with all this heavy rain they didn’t park the train closer to the waiting room; we all had to run to the carriage and then stand while someone carefully stowed a regular suitcase in a luggage compartment.

The trip back was the same as the trip out – a wait of a few minutes outside Oshawa the reason being “We are waiting for a green signal” which is supposed to be re-assuring, but why does a scheduled train not run on a schedule?

Maybe GO Transit was shuttling a now-empty and now-cancelled passenger train to the GO desert.

Conclusion

Would I do it again? I would certainly entertain a full day in Cobourg and a full day in Port Hope. I’m not so sure about the VIA Rail part though.

I can make eight day-trips to Guelph by GO Transit for the price of a ticket to Cobourg, and I can sit anywhere on any bus that leaves at any time. That is, to travel to Guelph is cheaper and more flexible than to travel by VIA Rail (FWIW VIA Rail for Guelph leaves Toronto only at 10:55 and 17:40)

I have learned quite a lot about VIA Rail from booking and making this one trip. In terms of day-trips from Toronto VIA Rail is not a good option, unless some town has a distinct feature that I want to see and GO transit does not extend that far.

London would be an example (leave Toronto at 7:35 arrive in London at 9:45; leave London at 19:42 arrive in Toronto at 21:51)

Here is a map of Cobourg showing some of the furthest points I reached by bus. The Northumberland Mall (Port Hope Shuttle pickup spot) is doubly-outlined.

And here is Port Hope. I rode into town (!) on the Route B and stayed on it to tour the area outlined above. Then I walked the main street for an hour and caught the next Route B as it headed out of town, eastwards towards Cobourg (arrow)

This map shows the route taken by the Port Hope Route B, known as the “Port Hope Shuttle” in Cobourg.

I suppose that there might have been much debate between business owners and the town as to whether carrying customers out of Port Hope to Cobourg made any economic sense.

If it means that Port Hope has been spared a Wal-Mart that might be a good thing.

Friday, August 28, 2015

I pulled this micro-tourist card from the rack in the foyer of the Marriot Courtyard hotel in Toronto.

I was intrigued by the weird question-mark mid-sentence.

Also the “majestic Ganaraska River”, for all its rippling beauty, is more like an overgrown canal running through the heart of town! Lovely, yes, but majestic – well, not quite.

This side of the card captured my idea of the main street, which runs East-West. You can walk on the sunny-side or on the shady-side, depending on the temperature and your mood.

The couple above clearly have the choice of both shade and sun, and on the one side of the street, too.

Note the hanging basket, one of dozens (literally) sprinkled around the town.

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Bonavista, Wednesday, June 03, 2020 9:00 AM

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