Tossing down your linen napkin after dinner, you stroll back to the day coach. Out of the window, you watch the evening sky turn from blue to purple to black. You are lulled by the steady rhythm of the train’s motion. You hear the creaking and groaning of the wooden trestles as the train moves over the bridges. Smoke billows from the locomotive as it hauls the cars up a high mountain grade. The brakes squeal as they grip the rails when the train rushes down into a valley. Tunnels block the fading light. The whistle sounds at each station or stop. You will pass by over fifty on this journey. The train will be in Penticton in the morning. Then you will be able to see the spectacular Myra Canyon near Kelowna in daylight. Sixteen trestles hug the mountain walls. Now the porter has made up a comfortable bed for you. Satisfied, you nod off, wondering how this gem of a railway came to be.