On October 7, 2020, the Huron Central Railway train from Sault Ste. Marie to Sudbury trundles past a farm at Bar River, Ont., on the forlorn Webbwood Subdivision, which once again is at risk of abandonment.

Trains and stories are a lot alike. At their core, both connect people and place. As stories carry a reader on a journey of thought, trains, too, race purposefully toward their destinations. When Donald Smith drove the final spike on Canadian Pacific Railway at Craigellachie, B.C., so came a key character in the story of Canada. Railways are woven into the fabric of our national identity — even 13 decades after that fateful day in the mountains of British Columbia.

In fall 2020, I embarked on a road trip across northern Ontario in an effort to capture photographs and discover how that storied railroading heritage has endured in some of the most rugged and challenging landscapes in the country. It’s a tale that has captured my imagination since I was a child. This is a portrait of the North, as seen through the railways that built a nation.

Early morning light illuminates the scene at Huntsville, Ont., as CN Train 451 charges toward North Bay on September 26.

On the Road

Sleep never comes easy the night before an adventure. Checklists need to be finalized and excitement about new destinations stirs the imagination. As I lay beneath the stars on a crisp autumn evening at Washago, Ont., I found myself in this very predicament. She isn’t your typical roadside accommodation, but my venerable Toyota RAV 4 (turned mini-camper for the purpose of this trip) had to make do.

The familiar sound of an approaching train cut through the inky pre-dawn darkness and interrupted my fitful sleep. This train was my ticket north and while I wouldn’t be climbing on board, I’d soon give chase. Thus would mark the beginning of an epic 14- day journey that took me from the edge of the Arctic to the shores of Lake Superior, and some 3,500 miles in-between.

The rhythmic pulse of steel wheels drumming over 90-pound stick rail serenades the photographer as Train 421, the northbound *Polar Bear Express*, races through the wilderness of northern Ontario.

Purpose

Wanderlust is not an impulse easily controlled. Instead of fighting the almost carnal urge to travel, I’ve simply accepted that no matter how many railfan trips I take, I’ll always want to take another. In a landscape of uncertainties, though, it can be difficult to pinpoint where to go and what to see. Although I didn’t have a clear destination in mind when I left home, I was certain that I wanted to make this one count. With hiking boots laced tight and cameras at the ready, I pressed on into the wilderness of northern Ontario.

The sky was dull gray and the cool air unmistakably autumn. Fellow photographer Mike Robin and I stood on the platform at Cochrane, Ont., looking on, with Tim Hortons coffee in hand, as a pair of Ontario Northland EMD GP38-2s shuffled cars around the yard. The sight of four-axle locomotives kicking boxcars isn’t, perhaps, the most unusual sight in 2020, but these weren’t any ordinary boxcars. In fact, this wasn’t any ordinary train. The Polar Bear Express, or simply the Bear as locals affectionately call it, is one of the last mixed trains on the planet. Inside the boxcars on this train you will find everything from ATVs to moose antlers, cases of beer from the railway-served Beer Store in Cochrane, and supplies for the far north, only accessible by way of the Bear.

Moose antlers and bins of belongings come off the mixed train at Moosonee.

With a round-trip ticket for Moosonee, I climbed aboard the passenger coach and settled into my seat. Among the company of hunters, cottagers, and everyday people with a ticket to ride, I was on a train that goes to a land only accessible by rail, some 200 miles north of Cochrane. At 9:00am sharp, the train lurched out of the station for Moosonee.

As the train blurred through a landscape of golden aspens, winding rivers, and seemingly infinite muskeg, I reflected on the significance and uniqueness of this journey. Before I could get too deep in my thoughts, though, the train broke from its steady pace and eased to a stop. The boxcar doors slid open and in came rifles, coolers, and camp supplies. We had just made a whistle-stop in the middle of the northern wilderness. As I glanced back at the young family, and the elders alike, it dawned on me that this train is not only a way from Point A to B but also a lifeline for a community. True to its mixed train fashion, the Bear not only carries people and freight — it carries a way of life almost forgotten in today’s dizzying pace, harkening back to an era when mixed trains dominated the rails throughout Canada.

Many riders of different generations use Ontario Northland’s *Polar Bear Express* as a transportation lifeline.

This scene is typical for a Monday afternoon in Moosonee as locals unload ATVs from boxcars on September 28.

Place

A heavy autumn rain pounded the concrete at Cochrane, Ont., as the southbound Polar Bear Express pulled into the station. Some 400 rail miles after I departed earlier in the day, the train had completed a journey spanning from Moosonee, known as “The Gateway to the Arctic” and northernmost point on the ONR, to Cochrane, where the railway continues on to Hearst. The following day I’d pursue the latter. Hearst, like many small towns in the region, fits the description of a “railway town.” Proudly displayed relics, such as Canadian Pacific 2-8-2 5433 at Chapleau and MLW S-3 6593 at Schreiber, to name a few, are a testament to the railroading heritage found in these northern communities.

Under brooding skies, a pair of Ontario Northland SD40-2s race along the Devonshire Subdivision near the town of Connaught, Ont., on September 29.

Framed by an Ontario Northland hi-rail truck, Canadian National’s twice-weekly local 572 to Hawk Junction is on the move after lifting interchange traffic from ONR at Hearst.

An Ontario Northland carman inspects Cochrane-bound tonnage in the morning rain of September 30 at Hearst, Ont.

As I sat in the early morning rain, I watched as the crew on Canadian National’s twice-weekly job from Hearst to Hawk Junction assembled its train. The aesthetic of place is one to which I’ve always been particularly drawn. As the train started south on the old Algoma Central Railway out of Hearst, so did I. Along the way, I explored a number of other railway towns — Hawk Junction, Hornepayne, and White River — as I pressed toward Lake Superior.

A portrait of contemporary Canadian Pacific on the North Shore, the next generation of hopper cars rolls west at Cavers, Ont., on October 5.

The ancient and incredibly rugged north shore of Lake Superior appealed deeply to my interests both as a photojournalist and landscape photographer. Winding along the Trans-Canada Highway, I was spellbound by the barren mountains and jagged cliffs of the Canadian Shield that plunge to Superior’s bays where the transcontinental railway hangs by mere inches to the sides of her unforgiving slopes. I would spend the next couple of days exploring from White River to Thunder Bay, completely mesmerized by this remarkable landscape.

Framed by a towering rock cut, AC4400CWM 8102 bites into a curve at Coldwell, Ont., on Canadian Pacific’s scenic Heron Bay Subdivision on October 2.

Hugging the rugged shoreline of Lake Superior at Mink Harbour, Canadian Pacific Train 118 eases through the big curve at Coldwell on October 1.

People

One thing that struck me about my travels throughout the North, aside from the landscape, was the people, particularly the railroaders. I was taken aback not only by the skill that these men and women possess but their spirit. Even against the backdrop of a global pandemic that has upended every facet of daily life, these hardworking people extended their warmth to a visitor like me.

Without people, trains are just machines and it has long been my goal to capture the human side of railroading. In this day and age, it can be a challenge for photographers to capture the beloved “human interest” photos that so many of us have come to admire. Not only is access more limited, but across the railroad landscape, the number of railroaders is decreasing every year. Fortunately, thanks to the hospitality of the people I met, I was able to reaffirm that the magic of railroading hasn’t all but faded into another vignette or become caught up in the unstoppable pace of progress.

Observing the time-honored tradition of a roll-by inspection, a conductor keeps a watchful eye on this eastbound stack train as it blurs into the night at Schreiber, Ont., on October 2.

A bottle of hand sanitizer hangs off the passenger coach while the conductor completes a screening questionnaire prior to boarding a passenger on the southbound *Polar Bear Express* at Moosonee on September 28.

Running on Borrowed Time

As I worked my way eastbound on Highway 17 through Wawa and Michipicoten, and coming off the high of an incredible week of photography on Superior, I was reminded that in railroading the only constant is change. A quick detour to Hawk Junction brought forth the most somber point of my 14-day journey.

For a few months, rumors had swirled that CN’s former Algoma Central line was on borrowed time. Unfortunately, the rumors proved true. From childhood visits to Sault Ste. Marie to memorable rides on the Agawa Canyon Tour Train, I’ve always had a special admiration for this scenic line. With the south end of the railway from Hawk to Sault Ste. Marie dormant, and the future of the Canyon Train uncertain, my visit to Hawk was a sobering reminder of the importance to always take stock in the moment. Nothing lasts forever.

Some 3,500 miles, 8,300 photographs, and 14 days after I left home, I’d successfully completed my most ambitious expedition to date. Along the way, I experienced an intimate account of modern railroading in northern Ontario that in many ways is exemplary of a nationwide story still being told from Port Hawkes- bury to Prince Rupert. It is a region I maintain a deep admiration for and that I’m thankful to have visited to photograph the people, places, and purpose these railways serve in the North. Consider this closing sentence a dog-eared page in this story, for it is certain to be continued.

Portrait of the North

Southbound in the Rain