I like trains

 If you know Fred Eaglesmith, you will recognize the reference to his ardent ode:
" I like trains that call out through the rain..."

I, too, like trains, from the nearly jogging-speed Adirondack Special, leaving Montréal in early morning, travelling through the Adirondacks and down the Hudson River Valley to arrive in New York's Penn station by evening, or the serene, steady run between Montréal and Québec City.

I've ridden high-speed European trains and taken a brief jaunt on an Indian one, which I remember for my desperate avoidance of a second trip to the toilet.

I devoured Caity Weaver's account of crossing the US by train (via several connections); whenever I feel like getting lost, my first thought is not a flight to a remote island, but a step onto rolling stock.

Do you have a favourite route?

Train travel is a world away from flying; passengers are more convivial, whether they offer a brief hello from behind earbuds, or an engrossing conversation. I met a woman who started a wine consulting business, a young lawyer who agonized about whether to have a child; a widow in her sixties who was being courted by two men and wanted to choose one.

Comportment is more civil on a train than plane'; maybe without enduring security lines, we board in a better mood? I'm often helped to stow my bag by the kind of young man who bumps past me on a plane.

The new "train case"

I like to carry a vinyl or nylon bag; train carpets disguise dirt that's unkind to fine leather. I can wipe vinyl clean or machine-launder nylon microfiber (in a mesh bag). This Matt & Nat Ville bag looks perfect: ample enough to hold gear, smart enough to disembark in the centre of the city and go straight to dinner. The Ville comes with a removable long strap.

In that bag, I pack a stash of at least a half day's worth of calories, and water. (My go-to: Kind Bars, fruit, nuts, and Lindt chocolate.) Trains are occasionally stopped en route for a long period, and the food cart is emptied in the first hour. I've been there.

There are a few rules: no drinking (i.e., your personal alcohol) or smoking, and be polite. Years ago, the Adirondack Special had a second run, an overnight trip between Montréal and NYC; I deeply regret not taking it then. Apparently it was such an convivial party that the railroad shut it down, the killjoys.)

I will wear jewellery on a train because I'm going somewhere, but not for eternity. Flying scares me. I've stopped saying goodbye to Le Duc and tidying my desk; however, I still think, Maybe this is it. I board a train blithe and relaxed, and stay that way. Trains sway, that's pretty much the worst of it.

On top, I choose a forgiving pattern or darker solid, with a sleeve. For spring, those below would be contenders depending on the climate, and I'd slip a solid-colour scarf into that bag:

Left: Sahara Chambray Cotton Check tunic, £119
Upper right: John Lewis and Partners ultramarine/white crew £45
Lower right: Banana Republic Cashmere Stripe v-neck, $CDN $250.

Anatomie Thea pant

I like techno-fabric trousers, much lighter to carry than jeans. Now that they are made in current styles, they look polished enough to wear to any but formal occasions at the destination.

Löle's Travel Pant is my all-time favourite bottom piece: well-made, adaptable, quality fastenings, and washes/dries in a flash.

I shorten them so they are closer to crops for spring; they look better in person than on the site. If interested in navy or grey, check out Anatomie's "Thea" pant—warning, they are pricey.

Pashko, another popular maker, have some styles up to XXL; anyone tried theirs?

Whatever the brand, the key is a breathable, substantial-enough fabric to hang well (some of the microfibres are paper-flimsy) and a cut that fits. I avoid puffy drawstring waists, more campfire than bistro, or tight, leggingish styles.

I'm on the train today,: a visit with Katrin, a friend in  Québec City—and I hope to take at least one more ride this summer. And one day, that Chicago-LA run described by Caity Weaver.

No matter that the old cry of "All aboooooard!" is defunct, I still enjoy the first clack of the wheels, the whistle, the view unfolding from my window, especially Quebec's glorious new greenery.