Try the Skeena, a budget alternative to Canada’s famous Rocky Mountaineer

This article was produced by National Geographic Traveller (UK).

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll be making an unscheduled stop here to pick up another passenger,” announces train manager Alain Vermette. “In fact, we need to back up. We just missed his stop.”

Brakes squeal and gears grind as Via Rail Line 6 — better known as ‘the Skeena’ — slows, shifts into reverse and trundles back down the track. A minute later, a burly man in a baseball cap, hunting boots and jeans emerges from the forest, rucksack slung over his shoulder, a cheroot poking out from his grizzled grey beard.

“Afternoon, Alain,” he says, waving a greeting up to the conductor, who’s leaning out of the train window. “Running a little late today, ain’tcha?” The train pulls to a stop — but since there’s no platform, Alain has to hop down onto the track and put down a set of portable steps. I follow him down, and together we help the man haul himself up through the train’s side door. Soon the engine chugs into life and we’re off again, hurtling onwards into an endless sea of pines.

On the Skeena, request stops have always been part of the service. Completed in 1914 as the western end of the Grand Trunk Pacific Railway, the train travels through some of British Columbia’s wildest backcountry, including the 24,700sq mile Great Bear Rainforest, the largest temperate forest on Earth. It’s one of Canada’s great wildernesses, a haven for wildlife including moose, elk, eagles and, as its name suggests, black and grizzly bears.

The route begins on the Pacific coast in Prince Rupert, BC, and ends 720 miles further east high in the Rocky Mountains in Jasper, Alberta. Since it’s often the only way to get from one backwoods town to the next, locals use it like a bus service, flagging the train down as it passes three times a week. It’s been classed as an essential service since 1990, but if it was judged on purely economic terms, it would probably have been closed long ago.

“The Skeena is a lifeline for so many people,” Alain explains as we chat inside the train’s compact cafe car, watching stereotypically Canadian vistas blur beyond the window: sprawling forests, turquoise lakes, snow-topped peaks. Originally from Quebec, with a Francophone lilt to his accent, he’s dressed in his Via Rail uniform: short-sleeved shirt, navy waistcoat and trousers, a shiny pin badge of the Canadian flag tacked to his lapel. “We call the people who live way out in the bush ‘flaggers’, and we keep an eye out as we pass their stop,” Alain continues. “Usually they signal with a flagpole or a high-vis jacket hanging beside the track. But we stop for hikers, too; forest workers, hunters, people like that. Recently we picked up a family who’d got lost. It was lucky we found them, actually.”

I’m riding the Skeena eastbound on a two-day, 21-hour journey from the Pacific to the Rockies, with an overnight stop in Prince George en route. The timetable is more guide than gospel — on Canada’s railways, freight takes priority, so passenger trains must wait for them to pass. Delays are inevitable.

“There’s a joke that ‘Via Rail’ actually stands for ‘Very Irregular Arrival’,” quips train attendant Dany Clarissa, on secondment from her regular gig on Via Rail’s flagship route, The Canadian — 2,775-miles, linking Toronto and Vancouver. Sure enough, a minute later we pull into a siding to allow a gigantic goods train to rumble past, its steel boxcars daubed with graffiti. “This one’s only a small one, but they can be three miles long,” Dany says.

Thankfully, the Skeena is one train where you’re almost glad about the hold ups. The train has a retro elegance reminiscent of the 1950s. The carriages are made from functional brushed steel, with curved lines and stamped rivets that remind me of an Airstream trailer. Each passenger gets their own deep-padded seat in brown leather, with windows running along each side. At the train’s rear is the cafe and lounge car, where a metal staircase climbs up to a viewing deck with bubble windows offering widescreen views of the Canadian wilderness as it zips by.

And when it comes to scenery, there are surely few trains on the planet that can compare to the Skeena. One minute we’re thrashing along the banks of a wild river, thundering with whitewater; the next we’re rattling over a box bridge, teetering along the rim of a high-walled canyon or skirting the slopes of a glacier-studded mountain. Images from Canada’s past flicker by like a film reel: rickety sawmills, abandoned salmon canneries, gold mines, ghost towns. Occasionally, we pass Indigenous communities, where First Nations peoples, including the Gitxsan, Kitselas and Tsimshian, have lived for thousands of years. Wildlife guest stars, too: I watch bald eagles circling over the treetops, elk grazing along the sidings, and a distant black bear ambling through a meadow, its fur freckled with dandelion blossom. As dusk falls, we trundle into the outskirts of Prince George — a former logging and fur-trading outpost that’s now sometimes called BC’s ‘northern capital’ — in search of our overnight accommodation.

The next morning, the train departs at 8.15am sharp. Alain serves coffee and pastries as we run westwards along the Fraser River, watching the sunrise turn the water copper. Logging was once the prime industry in this part of BC, but most of the mills have long since been abandoned, leaving the forest to slowly regenerate. We trundle through little towns like Penny, Crescent Spur, McBride and Dunster — mostly just a few clapboard houses and a single-pump petrol station — slowly threading our way between two mountain ranges: the Cariboos, to the south; the Rockies to the north. Flurries of snow speckle the peaks like icing sugar. In a few months, the drifts will stand 10ft high or more, but the Skeena will run on regardless; the train’s cowcatcher frame acts as a snow plough, Alain explains.

For now, though, it’s the perfect autumn day for sitting on a train. Blue skies shine overhead. The forest blazes with colour: golds, scarlets, chestnuts, tangerines. The hulking outline of Mount Robson, Canada’s highest mountain, rises like a pyramid as we cross over the Alberta border and change time zones, from Pacific to Mountain time. We climb on, over the Continental Divide, and finally into the cradle of mountains around our terminus, Jasper, still scarred by the wildfire that swept through town in August 2024.

As I step off the train onto the platform, breathing in pine-scented mountain air, I check the station clock. We’re only 53 minutes late. By Skeena standards, that’s pretty much right on time.

Published in the May 2025 issue of National Geographic Traveller (UK)

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