Moosonee - A Trip Into The Past

The background - my dad was in the Air Force and as a kid from grades 4 to 7 we lived on a radar base next to a town called Moosonee. Moosonee is located on the southern shores of James Bay, some 300 km north of Cochrane. Cochrane being the most northern point you can reach by road in Ontario.

Last week I got the urge to take a trip to Moosonee. I wanted to see if the house we once lived in was still standing. A trip into my past so to speak. I was excited! A true quest!

Sunday was uneventful. We left around noon and drove straight to Cochrane. It only took about 7 hours - much faster than I remembered. The new road bypasses all those little towns that you once had to drive through. Towns like Cobalt, Swastika, and my favourite, Porquis Junction. We arrived in Cochrane at about 7pm.

It is hard to describe Cochrane. When we first arrived my first thought was - what a shithole! But after spending two days in Moosonee and getting back to Cochrane my impression was of a booming, prosperous town - but I am getting ahead of myself. For now - let's go with shithole.

After getting our train tickets for the next morning we tried for dinner. Several people whom we asked, including the guy checking us in to our motel, recommended Mike's Steakhouse. When I asked the guy if there was a dress code he gave me a look as if I had just arrived from outer space. This should have been my first clue. To describe Mike's as a steakhouse is akin to describing a Lada as a luxury Russian car (for those of you who remember the Lada). First comes the drink order - beer obviously - and the waitress asks if you want a glass with that (it's a northern thing I guess). Next - when my friend ordered the Silver steak special, the waitress shook her head and replied - no you don't want that - it's really tough. I think she took pity on us being as we were obviously from out of town. I say obvious because neither my friend nor I were wearing a 'T-shirt' as dinner apparel.

Back to the motel in anticipation of riding the Polar Bear Express to Moosonee the next day. At this point in the narrative I should discuss how the Polar Bear Express got its name. According to the story, it was given this name as a nick-name, a joke since there are no Polar Bears within a 1000 km radius and the train would stop for every trapper and prospector who flagged it down between Cochrane and Moosonee. For some reason the name stuck and it turned out to be a marketing miracle. People from all over the globe would come to ride the Polar Bear Express .... once!

The trip to Moosonee, some 300 km, took from 9am until close to 4pm by the time we got into Moosonee. At times we were travelling at 10 km/hr. The top speed was 70 km/hr. This means you are looking out the window for 7 hours at a world comprised of nothing but trees and the occasional hunt camp. But you must look out the window for the entire trip as a fisherman must look at the end of his pole - the belief that there is a chance of spotting a bear or moose. Trust me - there is no chance - but for some reason you must keep your face pressed to the window. I saw more F'n trees in that 7 hours than Paul Bunyan in his lifetime.

We arrive at 4pm. We get off the train. We see nothing but dirt/mud roads, native people wandering aimlessly, the local liquor store next to the police station - both with barred windows, and approximately 10 gajillion blackflies and mosquitoes. Now this is truly a Shithole! {In order, these are pictures of the beautiful main street and the view in front of out hotel - click on them for a closer look}.

My second clue came when we checked in. We asked the owner what sites we should see while in Moosonee for two days. He took a step back, cocked his head to one side and looked at me as if I had just peed on his foot. "Two days"' he questioned while looking through his reservation book. "Well Holy God, you're right", he said while shaking his head from side to side.

At this point in the narrative I must move away from a detailed step by step account of our experiences. It would bore you to death. Suffice it to say that it was probably the worst two days in my life and yet the best two days (only because I have a sense of humour). In the end you wander about the town looking for something to occupy your time and justify the expense. Most of the museums are closed down. There are only two restaurants in the entire town - one of those being at our motel. One grocery store and the liquor store. That's it! The good times come when you meet other tourist wandering around with the same expression as we were no doubt carrying - that being - What a SHITHOLE!

We met a lot of people during the two days. Nice people. We would sit for hours (because there was nothing to do) and talk about what a shithole Moosonee was and whether or not they should just let the whole town die by ripping up the rail line. The discussion also included talk about the role of the native people in this situation. For the most part they are happy with collecting there unemployment benefits from the government. You certainly don't get the impression that they welcome tourists. They certainly don't accommodate tourists. As an example - you must check out of your hotel by 10 or 11 am despite the fact that the train doesn't leave until 6 pm that day. The result being that there are many people wandering the streets looking for something to do to kill 7 hours before they can escape the shithole.

In the end we did escape. The only way the train ride could be worse is on the return trip. You leave at 6 pm and get back to Cochrane at 1 am. You don't even have the millions of trees to look at for most of the trip.

I leave you with some stories.

In the restaurant my friend asked the waitress what beer she had on tap. After a few seconds the waitress finally admitted that she didn't know what 'on tap' meant. You can only get bottled beer in Moosonee.

Another time, at the other restaurant, the husband of a couple we had just met also asked what beer was on tap. The waitress replied with the names of the three brands of beer they carried. He chose one and asked for a pint glass. She returned with a bottle. He should have known better.

One evening my friend ordered a pork chops with a baked potato for her meal. After placing our order, several other couples came in (we knew them all by this point) and ordered their meals. We waited and waited and waited. Approximately an hour later the waitress comes by with our meals and apologizes for the delay explaining that it takes a long time to make a baked potato. During this entire time no other orders were filled since the cook does one meal at a time - in order! My friend had backed up the whole restaurant by an hour with her thoughtless ordering of a baked potato.

One day while out for a walk at the old air force base (I did get to see where I grew up so that was neat - this is a picture of the old homestead), a dog started trotting beside us. He followed us everywhere including the mile long trek back into the town. He even stayed out front of the hotel while we went inside. My friend was worried that the dog wouldn't be able to get back home so she asked a native person about it and he replied that she shouldn't worry - that the dogs do that with all the tourists. We later found out from another person that the dogs follow tourists around hoping like hell that they will pick up the $55 tab to put them on the train so that they can get out of town. Apparently the natives don't treat their dogs very well and the dogs are smart enough to want to escape Moosonee. From my reckoning, that makes them smarter than 85% of the population!