It was 1945 and I was eight years old. To get my haircut I had to travel by canoe and train in the morning and return home by train and canoe in the afternoon. My dad was a ferryman on the St. John River about an hour and a half drive from the New Brunswick/Quebec border in the rural village of Tilley. On the west side of the river was Morrell Siding. It was called a Siding for it had an extra track for the local farmers to ship their potatoes by rail freight. Today the potatoes are hauled by truck to the very large McCain factory in Florenceville, NB.

Dad had a ferryboat that could carry as many as 3 cars. Usually he would carry one car and he would even ferry a team of horses. For a single person or two dad would use a canoe. It was always a delight crossing the river with MY dad. I had to be perfectly still and dad would paddle the canoe from the rear seat. In the late fall the crossing was even more dramatic for the river would have slush ice through which the canoe had to pass. Once I was on the other side of the river I had a big hill to climb. It was pretty much uphill to the unmanned and not heated train station.

As soon as I arrived at the station I would pick up the white and green diagonally coloured flag and hang it on a holder in the front of the station. When the locomotive engineer would see the flag it was a signal for him to pick up a passenger. On seeing the flag he would engage the train’s whistle and I would take the flag down and return it to the station. The train would stop and the conductor would help me up the portable steps.

I remember well the olive green velvet covered seats of the passenger car. The backs of the seats were adjustable to make for a single seat or a double seat in which passengers could sit facing each other. The conductor would come by and I would pay him my fare. The train ride was about 15 minutes. It was like a hike through the country side and its forest. The river could be seen through openings in the trees. There were railroad crossings over the gravel country road. Then there was the railroad bridge over one of the tributaries of the St. John River, the Aroostook River.

When crossing the railroad bridge one always looked out the window to see how much the shoreline was showing. Was the river high or low? In the fall the river was always high. I am only minutes away from my destination, the Aroostook Junction station. The conductor would come by and announce the station. Having arrived I had a short walk uphill to the barber shop. After my haircut I would visit my Aunt Verna and have lunch with her then return home on the afternoon train.

Aunt Verna knew how to please me. As always, the lunch would be great. She had a chinaware piece in the shape of an English cottage. It had a chimney and she would put a piece of incense inside the house. Of course the smoke went up the chimney much to my excitement and pleasure. The time with my Aunt Verna went quickly and I soon found myself back on the train to Morrell Siding. After a brief walk I was back on the gravel road that would lead me to the river. On the top of the hill I would shout “Over ” a few times hoping dad would hear me. If the connection was good dad would have arrived with the canoe when I got to the bottom of the hill. Once more we canoed through the slush ice until we were on the other shore and home. That was my day trip by canoe, train, train and canoe!