Setting Out: The Journey to New York

Planning and Preparing

“If you talk about it, it’s a dream, if you envision it, it’s possible,

but if you schedule it, it’s real.”

Tony Robbins

There is something highly surreal about preparing to step on board an ocean liner while standing in a condo that smells of well-used hiking gear. Only a few days earlier, we had been living out of our backpacks, spending most of our nights in tents, and most of our days on Canada’s trails. Now we found ourselves watching YouTube tutorials on how to fold dress shirts properly, rolling formal gala dresses like fragile maps, and trying to persuade a new three-piece suit to fit inside a carry-on bag without giving way to permanent creases.

I won’t deny that there were a number of times that we felt overwhelmed and out of our league.

Two long-distance hikers – more comfortable in trail runners, sun hats, and creek crossings than in polished dress shoes and high heels – are preparing to step aboard the last true operating ocean liner crossing the North Atlantic. We had bought Sean a suit, endured tailoring and navigated purchasing ties, belts, and cufflinks. At the same time, I had endured (and I mean that in the most bothersome sense) going to stores, trying on formal dresses, standing through fittings, and buying lacy underthings. We both had to set aside our usual views of purchasing things based on durability, moisture-wicking and the ability to be easily cleaned in favour of fashion considerations. For a week, we had been forced to debate fabric weight and style with the seriousness we would normally have reserved for pack weights or dealing with a grizzly bear encounter.

Needless to say, planning and preparing for this voyage put us very much out of our comfort zone.

And then suddenly, it was departure day.

London to Toronto

We were awake early, and the condo already felt slightly emptied of its everyday rhythm. We had emptied the fridge, cleaned up, vacuumed, and set things in our lives in order. By mid-afternoon, on the day of our departure, we found ourselves standing on the VIA Rail platform in London, Ontario – waiting for the 3:30 PM train to Toronto. For the first time in our lives, in addition to our large backpacks, we were pulling rolling luggage cases – the latter being awkward and annoying.

We worried – perhaps irrationally – about luggage restrictions. Hiking backpacks and rolling luggage are an awkward combination. Thankfully, we were waved on board without issue and settled into our seats as southwestern Ontario slid past the window.

The train ride itself was uneventful, almost soothing. The familiar agricultural landscape gave way gradually to denser suburbs and finally to the layered steel and glass of Toronto’s skyline. We maneuvered through Union Station, purchased paper tickets for the UP Express - an increasingly quaint act in a tap-and-go world - and stood shoulder to shoulder with commuters as the train carried us to Pearson Airport. 

Back in Toronto, we could feel the shift once again from life on the trail to existence in a megacity. The faster pace, the constant noise, the crowded transit spaces – where you struggle to keep some small piece of personal space.

Too long on our own trekking the world’s longest recreational pathway – the Trans Canada Trail – has made us unfamiliar with much of this way of living anymore. Increasingly, it shows that we don’t belong in this type of environment.

By evening we reached our airport hotel, checked in, and carefully re-inspected our formal clothes as through they were fragile cargo. Thankfully, everything appeared to have survived the short journey intact and without wrinkles. We were grateful – mind-blowing to us – two dresses, a suit, and the various bits and bobs that they required had cost us almost as much as our arctic tent. And that is certainly saying something.

For dinner, we walked to a nearby Boston Pizza for a beet and goat cheese salad along with a Mediterranean pizza. Afterwards, we returned to our room, showered and collapsed into bed.

The first day of our journey had ended.

Toronto to New York to Newark

Neither of us slept particularly well. Perhaps it was the noise of jetliners overhead. Perhaps it was the enormous hotel pillows. Perhaps it was the excitement of knowing that tomorrow we would step onto a ship that would carry us across an ocean.

Thankfully, there was coffee in our room. As we woke up, we reviewed the weather conditions in New York City tomorrow and discovered that the prediction for embarkation day had shifted from and 80% chance of 15-20 mm to 30-40% chance of 1-2 mm (exciting!).

We checked out of our hotel at 6 AM, and then retracing our route, we returned to Pearson International Airport and stepped back onto the UP Express once again. Back in Union Station in Toronto’s downtown, we grabbed a quick breakfast of coffee and croissants and lined up in the Concourse for the boarding call for our train to New York. An hour later, we had our ID checked and luggage checked before stepping on board, travelling by rail again – this time bound for New York aboard Amtrak’s Maple Leaf train.

The crossing into the United States at Niagara Falls required the usual ritual at security: disembarking the train, removing all of our luggage, having our luggage scanned, answering questions, and reboarding. It was efficient, though always stressful, and certainly laborious.

Back on board, our Amtrak train left Buffalo on time, now officially designated Maple Leaf #64. Navigating the cityscape of Buffalo, the train resumed its slow progress southeast. At first, the landscape and homes seemed similar to southwestern Ontario but within the first hour or so the tone shifted, and the first signs of Colonial America and American culture could be detected – tall white church steeples, brick civic buildings to large prisons.

On board the Amtrak, there were signs for “reporting suspicious activity” and “suspicious people”. Even the Amtrak staff, though courteous, continually informed passengers of their entitlements and rights – certainly a very American perspective. All of which stood in complete contrast to Via Rail’s Canadian and Ocean, were they encourage politeness, interaction and exploration.

Our train trip continued uneventfully. Though admittedly, fourteen hours in the same seat, regardless of scenery, is tiring. Somehow, without doing anything, you are exhausted at the end of the journey. By the time we rolled into New York Penn Station at 9:40 PM, we were worn down by the sheer density of the day. Layers of transit and travel are stacked atop one another.

From Penn Station, we navigated NJ Transit to Newark. The atmosphere was rawer than we had expected – loud, crowded and aggressive. After asking Red Cap Service and NJ Transit staff, we figured out how to purchase tickets and found gate 8W to travel from Penn Station to Newark Airport. On the city transit, two different groups of people started fights, and soon after a group of kids pushed through, clearly pick-pocketing and screaming at passengers who passed through. We kept our heads down and simply sought to get to our hotel without notice.

Escaping the inter-city train, we had made it to the Newark International Airport station, where we were able to get a ride from an airport shuttle that delivered us to our hotel, the Hilton Newark.

Here we checked in, bought yogurt and iced tea for dinner as the attached restaurant had just closed and no delivery to the hotel was possible. Exhausted, we were thankful when hotel staff confirmed that we could get a Lyft to Red Hook tomorrow for 11-12 for about 70-80 dollars rather than deal with transit.

Stepping into our room, we dropped our luggage, got out of our travel clothes and took a warm shower to clean up. We are now one small transit or taxi trip away from Red Hook, Brooklyn, where the Queen Mary 2 will dock and seven days on the Atlantic Ocean!

See you on board!