Meandering through maples

August - September 2018
A 30-day adventure by Helen Read more
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  • Day 1

    On our way

    August 23, 2018 in Australia ⋅ ⛅ 14 °C

    When we left home at 2.30 the gentleness of the early spring weather, the camellias bursting with colour and the scent of daffodils and daphne lingering in the air made us feel that, just maybe, staying home to see the garden break into exuberant life would be worth it. This thought didn't last long. With the prospect of seeing an autumnal Canada with all those spectacular shades of red and orange and gold in the maple forest, and following it up with the stark snow covered glaciers and whales and dolphins and bears (oh my) in Alaska, we happily called a cab and began our great adventure north.

    We made it to the hotel opposite the terminal in good time. The cat had been relocated to next door and the goldfish had been given its longterm food block. The gardeners had been given their instructions, the neighbours notified, family given travel details and emergency contacts and directions on how to access this blog confirmed, so everything was sorted and there was no reason to delay.

    As I look out the window of the hotel room I see the sun fading in the west but still brightly making its way through a gap in the clouds. The sun hits the fields beyond the airport. In the distance I see some kinds of orchard, one presumably providing a fruit of some kind and the other, a man made grove of metal trees delivering electricity. Glistening as they taxi around the airport, international planes land and take off giving travellers great adventures and returning them back to home.

    As I write, Ross continues to follow the news with every journalist and commentator analysing and speculating about who will be our Prime Minister tomorrow afternoon. Extraordinary behaviour from our politicians. We will leave those shenanigans behind us with pleasure.

    Tomorrow we fly to Vancouver, arriving two hours before we left Melbourne, according to the clock. Within hours we catch another flight to the starting point of our tour, in of all places, Victoria! Tonight we will dine early, go for a short walk, then have an early night so we are ready for our start tomorrow morning. Now I will try to work out how to put photos in this blog. This is always nervewracking.

    Thank you for following this travelblog. We hope you will enjoy and will share our meandering through maples.
    Helen
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  • Day 3

    The other Victoria

    August 25, 2018 in Canada ⋅ ☁️ 13 °C

    We are now able to be articulate about our long haul flight. The flight was 14 hours after a 3 hour departure wait. Despite all attempts to sleep, it eluded me. Ross just closed his eyes and he was out to it. I was so jealous. I was treated to several movies. I watched "Book Club" which was very predictable and not terribly clever which was a disapointment given its illustrious cast. I also watched the cartoon "Ferdinand" which was equally predictable and somewhat wearisome. I also watched "The Avengers: Infinity" which was an enjoyable couple of hours of explosions and chases. It was good to catch up with adolescent Groot again. He made me laugh. The ending was annoying because good did not triumph over evil. It seemed evil won the day, year and the universe, as Spiderman, Black Panther, Dr Strange, dear little Groot and other superheroes dissolved into dust. The rest of the superheroes were sitting around looking pretty unhappy at the end and the credits rolled. Clearly there will be a part two.

    Other temptations on the onboard computer let me win a game of trivia, search for hidden objects in a complex picture and play a few games of Sudoku. They were useful time takers.

    I would like to introduce you to our travelling companion in row 37. Her name was Param. She is from Toronto and has invited us to visit her in that city. I doubt we will be able to fit it in but if any of the readers of this blog ever get to Toronto, I would invite you to catch the nightbus and say hello to Param who will be your driver. She had been in Australia for two and a half weeks visiting her two sisters and her brother. They live in Sydney, Melbourne and Perth respectively: a family settled all over the place as part of the great Indian diaspora. Param has two daughters, aged 11 and 8 and they have been with her lovely and much appreciated mother-in-law while she has been away. She is looking forward to seeing them and as I write is probably pulling up at home right now. She was friendly and chatty and when either of us wanted to visit the loo during the flight, we went together like all good females. It was a good excuse to get up and move as well, so on several occasions Ross had to get out of his seat, let us clamber our way over pillows, blankets, headphones and armrests to go for the short walk to the cubicle and back.

    After farewelling Param at Vancouver airport we moved through Customs and to the transfer lounge to wait for our second flight which would take us to, of all places, Sidney, Victoria. Yes, Sidney is the suburb of Victoria, Vancouver Island where the airport is. The flight itself was only 12 minutes long in a two engine turbo prop plane that took us out of Vancouver, across the mudflats, fishing lanes, channels and myriad of small islands; Chatham, James, Sidney and many others that occupy the Haro Strait, and on to this island. We flew across Cordova Bay to land at Victoria airport where we were met by our Evergreen representative.

    She drove us to our hotel, The Doubletree Hilton, along some very familiar looking roadsides. Dotted with overgrown blackberries in full flush of fruit and Queen Anne's Lace, the side of the road looked quite like home. The difference was with the trees. At home they would be wattles and melaleuca and hakea, while in Canada they were a vast array of conifers, birch and of course, maples. The maples are just showing signs of changing so I am hoping that before we leave we will see a maple forest in full colour. We were informed that deer are a major problem here. While largely native, they are feral creatures that are happy to live close to humans and eat their gardens and crops. Likewise we were warned to watch out for aggressive bears that like to infiltrate suburbia in search of food. I doubt if downtown Victoria would have a problem, but apparently on the north of the island which is less populated and is supported by the primary industry of logging, the wildlife is more prolific. We passed a lake called Elk and Beaver Lake to be told that no elk nor beaver might be found there. I would be delighted to met a beaver, but I believe them to be creatures that enjoy their own company so I suspect it will be unlikely.

    I noticed also that most of the housing tends towards the alpine look, reminiscent of Swiss housing designs. Building materials of the earlier houses were mostly wood with slate roofing tiles, consistent with a timber rich community. I noticed also that they have significant bluestone deposits that would give them another material. Later homes have used brick and ceramic tiles. It is generally an attractive appearance and probably very sensible given the heavy snowfall they tend to get each winter. Our Evergreen representative said that snow can be waist height after a sustained snow storm. I don't think I would care for that.

    Anyway, we finally arrived at the hotel to find our room ready, three small bags of still warm cookies awaiting us and the delicious prospect of a shower and a nap. We took advantage of all of these things and arose refreshed. A bit of tidying up, washing smalls and studying the potential sites within walking distance and we have arrived to the current time.

    Soon we will wander across the road to go to the Millos Tavern where we plan to have a yummy Greek meal and perhaps a short wander before we come back to a good night's sleep.

    We just got back from dinner. As we were leaving our room on the second floor to head out, we heard a porter trying to inform some guests where they might be able to get a meal. They had just arrived, had had no food since breakfast and were ravenous, but also longing for a shower and bed. I told them we were heading off for Millos Tavern over the road and so they joined us. We have now met Graeme and Pat, who come from Kapunda in the Barossa. Graeme was a farmer who, as part of his slow transition to retirement, reduced his farming exposure and went into support services such as seed grading, carting and assisting other farmers when they needed an experienced and skill aid. His wife, Pat, a registered nurse, retired last year after 40 years in nursing. They have travelled quite a bit but are looking to reduce their travels from now on. This may be their last big trip overseas. The pension will not give them the liberty to do big trips any more. They were pleasant company. They are also part of a large group of South Australians on the tour with us so our fortuitous meeting may give us an introduction to many in the tour with us.

    We have now begun to plan our activities for tomorrow but we will wait until we have done our touring before we tell you more.
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  • Day 4

    After a good night's sleep

    August 26, 2018 in Canada ⋅ ⛅ 16 °C

    Doesn't it make a difference when you finally awake refreshed. We both admitted to waking up several times through the night but, a good comfortable bed and no deadline allowed us both to sleep again and be up at a reasonable time for a cooked breakfast. I generally only eat these when I am on a trip and I will probably revert to a more regular breakfast tomorrow. I noticed two different kinds of porridge in the buffet and I will be delighted to taste both. One is a traditional oatmeal and the other is an ancient grains porridge that I intend to taste.

    After breakfast we went out for a walk to locate the hop on hop off bus. It didn't take us long but we did find ourselves stopping every now and then to admire some of the thousands of hanging baskets that line all the streets in Victoria. They put on a spectacular show of colour and are remarkably cheerful and bright. These complement the many gardens that dot the city. No small patch of dirt is left uncultivated for flowers. As we drove around the island we noticed that there were very few lawns, a few small patches of grass of course, but only to highlight the herbaceous borders. The whole city looked like a children's fantasy story book. There were castles and cottages and very pretty houses of all shapes and sizes, all looking beautifully kept and presentable. No grafitti anywhere and as we drove by, sitting on the open top level of a double decker bus, the locals waved and smiled at us. They must have been briefed on their roles in a romantic fantasy island. We did notice that there seemed to be large number of older persons and it seems to have a reputation as a place to retire, but the driver was quick to point out that this was changing as hi tech IT companies had made big inroads into the community and it was now one if the largest industries in Vancouver. IT, logging, tourism and goverment employ the largest portions of the working population.

    I couldn't help noticing that the village atmosphere pervaded every suburb. Even the dentist and the accountant had pictureque cottages with blousy flowers and nodding floral baskets on their porches. The butcher had cute murals on the walls and shops were highly decorated. It was beginning to feel a little like Pleasantville.

    Ross tells me that he wishes to contribute to this blog by adding that one of his favourites today was a petting zoo in one of the major parks. We stopped just outside and saw many people with their children wandering around patting goats. I saw a miniature donkey who was very cute and two peacocks were annoying each other of either side of the fence because nearby was a peahen who must have been quite bodalicious. It was a sweet little place and entirely befitting an atmosphere of "pretty". There are also some potbelly pigs there but we did not see them. They would have been a hoot to see.

    Craigdarroch Castle was a grand affair that we decided not to visit. It takes about an hour to see it all and we wanted to get an overall picture of the city before we made our choices.

    It was quite cold sitting on the top of the bus with the wind blowing off the water and I was glad I had taken my puffy jacket. The seas around the island rarely get above 10 degrees, but its climate is regarded as the most moderate in the morass of islands that make up this part of British Columbia.

    We learned that it was our old friend, Captain James Cook, who discovered(!!!) this part of the world but that he was unaware that it was a series of islands. He named it after a crewman, a Mr Vancouver, on board his ship. That same crewman came back some years later to map the region and it was he who identified the nature of the place.

    I found myself asking about the first nations people. While some did not seem to know, our bus driver this morning was able to explain that this area housed the largest number of first nations people of anywhere in Canada. It was rich in natural resources and there was plenty to go around. The arrival of the white peoples saw the destruction of many of these peoples. I sometimes fear that we whities are an infestation that spreads our toxins everywhere and destroy the place wherever we go.

    Fortunately, the desire to celebrate indigenous cultures has come about and there is increasing promotion of their stories and artefacts. We drove by several totem poles created by modern indigenous people to replace the old weatherworn ones. They were quite striking.

    After our trip around we went back to our hotel to prepare for our afternoons. I was off to do whale watching and Ross wanted to visit the museum. I took off, booked my excursion, had a lunch of clam chowder and icecream by the harbour then went to join my group prior to embarking. Just as I did so I saw Ross walking towards me. He had had a nap and had just woken up but was on his way to organise his lunch and do his tour. He has some photos he wishes to share but he has fallen asleep again and so I will not post this blog till tomorrow morning.

    My trip around the waterways was a vigorous experience. The seas were quite choppy but I happily kept my clam chowder down. After about half an hour of crashing through waves and heaving around in the chop we saw our first whales. They were two humpbacks. We saw quite a few blows as they began to surface and then some emergence and disappearances, each time too fast for the camera to catch clear shots. There was a lovely moment when I watched the tail flukes rise in the air then follow the rest of the behemoth to the bottom of the ocean. The rocking of the boat meant that just as I thought I had a chance of catching the image on camera the waves lifted us up and dropped us down and all I could get was a fuzzy grey something in a grey ocean under grey skies. Oh well, next stop were the orcas. Another fifteen minutes away and we came across a family group of orca. Because they are dolphins and like to eat water mammals they lived closer to the surface. They swam around for quite some time showing us their dorsal fins. It was explained to us that the male was some distance from his family because he was driving food towards them. As the food got closer the matriarch of the pod would go in for the kill then leave the disabled and dying sea lion for the young orca to finish off. It was part of their oceanic curriculum. The young orca learned how to kill but the prey was not a danger to it. As it grew older it would learn more of the techniques and become a very experienced hunter. They are, of course, at the top of the food chain of the ocean. The father was very recognisable because of his very large dorsal fin. It is about three metres long.

    We then stopped off to meet some of the prey. Sea lions and seals were very amusing inhabitants of an island that held a lighthouse. They were more obliging for the camera but I doubt that this skill would help them fight off any orca.

    We made our way back into the harbour and I managed to snap a picture of a seaplane just about to take off and a close up of a small harbour ferry. We had seen them earlier this morning doing close order drills in the harbour in preparation for a water ballet routine, so I took a photo of that too.

    I got back to the hotel. Ross had beaten me back by only a few minutes and we swapped photos and stories. Ross had been to the Royal British Columbia Museum. He quickly moved through the visiting Egyptian exhibition and spent his time going through four of the permanent exhibitions which were the natural history gallery which showed the history of the area from prehuman, through mammoths and ice ages to the potential for what may happen to the west coast of the Americas if we do not address climate change. He found this very challenging. The second gallery was on the First Nations peoples and the Living Languages exhibition where desperate attempts are being made to capture and protect First Nations languages from extinction. Like many similar stories, the spiritual life, culture and languages of First Nation peoples suffered from legislated denial. Some may have been saved from eradication, but much has been lost. The final gallery was on nationhood for British Columbia.

    After this Ross had another nap until dinner time. We met the rest of our travel group at dinner and had a short briefing from our tour director, Bill Spiller, who was once a mountain climber. I hope he has no such intention for us.

    After a lively dinner we went back upstairs. I had a shower, sorted out some correspondence and did some washing. I was unable to publish this entry last night because Ross fell asleep without telling me his bit. It is now lunchtime and I have just finished off yesterday's entry. Ross is currently awake so I need to catch these moments.

    I will begin planning for today's entry soon.
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  • Day 5

    Victoria: A city of gardens

    August 27, 2018 in Canada ⋅ ☀️ 21 °C

    We decided yesterday that the city paid a great deal of attention to its floral arrangements in public places and that the people followed this focus on flowers. Just a part of me longed for sculptural leafy plants and midsized trees to move the eye but we were certainly impressed by the impact. Today, after a hearty breakfast (I had fruit and yogurt and Ross had the porridge) we caught the bus with our tour group and headed out on our first jaunt.

    Bill, our tour director and Bud, the driver, took us around the town again pointing out the historical landmarks and stories of early settlement. We had to stop at one point because two young deer were standing in the middle of the road, but they moved on. We saw another young male with a small rack (yes that is the term for their antlers) standing just off the road in a different park. Deer are prolific and a nuisance to gardeners who sometimes fence off their gardens to stop marauding deer. We learned that Vancouver Island has only black bears and no grizzlies, the largest density of cougars in Canada, no porcupines or skunks and a declining population of resident orca. All very interesting, but apart from the porcupines, I don't really wish to come in close contact with any of the above, except perhaps from the window of the bus. We were informed that Victoria, the capital City of BC, has only about 85 thousand people. The median house price was about $800 thousand but ranged up to $12 million if you lived in the poshest part of town with a sea view. I was beginning to think that this was the place where the well off came to retire when we headed out to our final destination for the morning.

    On the way we drove by the University of Victoria which reminded Ross, very much, of the ANU, when he first went there as a post doctoral fellow. It looked a very nice campus. As we drove on down the other side of the hill we saw the less financially well-off properties. I was pleased to know they existed and that all sorts of people could live on the island. Regular style suburbia, industry, market gardens and small farms cropped up every now and then as Bill told us of scandalous tales of the misdoings of rakes and fools.

    After about half an hour we pulled up at an old quarry. The original owner had mined limestone for cement for the building of the Panama Canal and the rebuilding of San Francisco after the earthquakes and so had made a fortune. When it petered out, the owner, at the instigation of his wife, decided to turn it into a garden similar to those they had seen in Europe. She was clearly the driving force and brought in designers and gardeners from all over the world to rejuvenate the site. Now it is a vast and luxurious garden with great sections dedicated to Italian, Japanese, rose, sunken and bog gardens. Great swathes of plantings lined winding paths, through arches and around bends, each vista building on the one before. I would suggest that begonias dominated, but large garden beds of dahlias, hydrangea and other big flowering plants filled every corner. The colours were big and bold.

    I longed for some plantings where foliage played a part, and they were there, but largely to support the bright colours. The dark pine backdrops formed a dark field behind the blooms. I took some pleasure in seeing some monkey puzzle trees. They are rare these days. I also found a flourishing pear and an apple in the garden which seemed out of place until I recalled how lovely they are when in blossom.

    The Butchart Gardens are quite remarkable but reeeeally manicured and I missed seeing some signs of chaos and contrast. We both took lots of photos because it was spectactular. They employ about 70 gardeners during flowering time but cut back to 40 during the dormant time. There are coffee shops, gift shops, restaurants, performance areas, a carousel, and trolley after trolley of umbrellas left at regular points around the garden. No-one need leave because of rain.

    The Butchart family, on one of their trips around Europe, had taken a message that a pair of rare ducks collected by Butchart, had died back in Canada. Instead of catching their ship back to Canada, he went into Germany to find another pair. It turned out to be lucky because their original ship had been The Titanic!

    Ross was taken by the statuary around the grounds, taking particular delight in the dancing fountain called the Ross fountain. Don't try to picture Ross dancing to the water feature. It doesn't bear consideration, but he took several photos of it. His other favourite was Tucca, the wild boar with a shiny nose. It is an exact copy of an Italian sculpture that is said to bring luck if you stroke its nose.

    At midday we got back on the bus and returned to our hotel. I was very pleased. I couldn't say why, perhaps circadian rhythms, but I had not slept the night before and was desparate for a snooze. I soon fell asleep and put in a couple of hours snuggled up in bed. Ross went exploring and spent a short time in the Maritime museum, chowing down on Canadian hotdogs and reading pamphlets. He arrived back just after I woke up and then had his nap.

    For dinner we went to the local pub and found ourselves surrounded by people on our tour all doing the same thing. The pub had American football on the screen and every now and then I heard comments on the differences between American and Australian football. The Aussies were all certain of the superiority of our game over theirs and only the waiters were there who might disagree. What we have seen of waiters, receptionist, sales assistants and tour guides is that they are all chipper, pleased to meet you, gracious when offered a compliment, ready to return it and free with smiles for everyone. Please let me find a grumpy, ironic, smart mouthed and awkward person soon or I will have to throw something. Ross is certain that all that niceness is motivated by greed. Gratuities are all the go here and about15% of any bill is recommended for the person serving you. You pay if you believe the service has been pleasing. Ross's cynical comment may have assuaged my need to throw things just a little.
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  • Day 6

    Why Whistler?

    August 28, 2018 in Canada ⋅ ☁️ 21 °C

    The answer to that question will emerge as you read today's entry.

    It was an early start for us this morning. Our bags were to be outside our doors by 6.45. This time was not difficult for me as I woke again in the middle of the night and failed to get back to sleep again. Five hours of trying to go back to sleep failed utterly and I was glad when the time ticked over when I could get up and ready myself for the day. Ross fell asleep within minutes of hitting the pillow and was blissfully out to it for the whole night. I am so envious. I had been feeling the worse for the lack of sleep and my body ached from the strenuous gripping and steadying I had found necessary while whale watching. I was surprised by the level of muscle ache I felt afterward but I suspect it was the combination. Today was worse. I can't shed the discomfort and will try to sweat it out tonight if I can. I have been pushing through to try not to sleep during the day but gave up at about three when our bus finally came to a stop and I was able to get into my hotel bed.

    Enough of my woes and on to the story of today. We ate a hearty breakfast. Ross had the full cooked breakfast (bacon, eggs, tomatoes, sausages, roast potatoes and toast) and I tried a mix of those two porridges with some almonds, pecans and cranberries with a dash of honey. Very yummy. Then I thought I would try the one thing on the buffet I had not tried. I had a small chocolate chip pancake with maple syrup and whipped cream. That could be quite addictive. It is just as well we are no longer at that hotel or they may have found themselves with a shortage of pancakes.

    We all got on our bus and met our new bus driver, Joseph. I have to say that I have had better bus drivers. He is friendly enough and couldn't be more helpful when helping people get on and off the bus, but I found his driving uncomfortable. He was faster than I would have thought necessary, he tended to pump the accelerator making the passengers jerk around, he swung the vehicle around corners and often had to brake firmly when coming to a stop light. When my suitcase was delivered to my room it had clearly been quite battered. It is hardshelled and it had cracked in a couple of places. The suitcase doesn't owe me anything, but it does need to see me through this holiday so I will make sure I keep it as full as I can so it is less inclined to give way.

    After a drive through Vancouver Island, watching the felled logs on the rivers gather in corners awaiting collection, we enjoyed learning about the wonderful names of the regions we passed through. There was Cobble Hill, Cowichan Bay, Chemainus, "Ladysmith!!!!!!", Cedar and Nanaimo where we caught the ferry. These towns come under the region originally occupied by the Salish people, all except Namaino which is eponymous to that group. Bill, our guide, told us of the appalling history of the treatment of their indigenous peoples which so closely matches our own. In their case the rebuilding of the peoples is further complicated by a kind of class system within the groups leading to a lack of unity and, at times, greater persecution of some of the folk. We have so much we need to repair and restore and so much regret to deal with before we can hold our heads high in the face of what we did and what we have inherited. I deeply felt the burden of my luck having been born white and therefore privileged. We don't necessarily think of ourselves as privileged, but by comparison we certainly are.

    Bill also told us of a deep midwinter festival in the region. It was called naked bungy jumping. Participants paint their bodies in colourful designs then drop into icy water. It is a huge attraction with thousands turning up to watch people strip off and fall into alpine rivers. They raise funds for schizophrenia so I can only say good luck to them.

    As we approached the embarkation point we followed a FJORD. I finally got to see a fjord! I have tried many times in the past and always had something that got in the way. I was on the wrong side of the bus to get a photo, but I could still see it. Slartibartfast was indeed a gifted natural architect!

    We then drove onto the ferry to cross Georgia Strait, back to the mainland. The sky was quite blue today. The locals are pleased. The fog we thought we had seen when we first landed in Vancouver was in fact smoke from the dreadful fires they have had. It has taken some time for it to clear. The light rain we had the other day is the first rain they have had for a long time, so everyone here is pleased about the weather we brought with us. The sea was calm and we enjoyed seeing the snow capped mountains appear out of the distant haze. For some of our group, who are all of the same age as us, it was the first time they had seen snow.

    The group is made up of 38 travellers, four of whom are from Melbourne (including us), two from the Gold Coast and the rest are from South Australia. They also seem to be country folk rather than city dwellers. We are getting to know them whenever we stop for meals or activities. Everyone is very friendly and getting along well.

    After about an hour on the water of Georgia Strait , we rounded Gabriola Island and entered into Horseshoe Bay, joined the Sea to Sky Highway, following it passed Britannia Beach, the Garibaldi Highlands and Cheekye. Then we followed the Tantalus Mountains around Howe Sound until we stopped at Shannon Falls for a stretch and a photo opportunity. Howe Sound is named after the same Lord Howe that we have off Australian shores. Shannon Falls is big! The water falls 330 metres down a granite face. Ross climbed right up to the lookout to get some pictures but I stayed down below. I found a rather cheeky bird jumping around the picnic grounds and I followed him around trying to take his picture. He wouldn't sit still enough for me to take a clear picture. I got three. One shows the bird's shape, one shows its colour and the third shows its size. None of them is good enough to share, but I can now prove that I saw a blue jay. Very cheeky little chap. We were also warned that a bear had been seen in the region, so when Ross failed to make it back to the bus with everyone else, I began to wonder whether he had tried to beat me to photographing a bear. Not so! That prize still awaits. I did see a coyote very briefly. It reminded me a little in frame to the dingo. The face is quite different though.

    We then got back onto the road and found ourselves following an alpine river called the Cheakamus River. Apparently some time ago a tanker containing powerful toxins crashed into this river and burst, killing everything (right back to bacteria). The salmon and other fish that spawned in the river were destroyed. It could have been catastrophic as the river flowed down towards the sea, so some thought it might poison the whole region . Fortunately, the liquid that detoxifies the poison is sea water and so the sea was saved and the sea saved the river. Amazing. Four years later and the court cases still continue.

    Eventually, we made it to our destination today, Whistler. There were many silly jokes about mothers and rocking chairs, but it is the wrong whistler. Apparently the town is named after the call made by my old friend, the marmot. People who read my last travel blog will remember my story of discovering marmots in Switzerland and how the Americans all insisted the creature was a groundhog. When we heard how marmots communicate by whistling to each other, particularly when alarmed by the possibility of eagles, the name of the town was made clear. It was suggested that some people thought the marmot was a groundhog, but locals called it the marmot, so I delighted to applaud them quietly.

    Whistler is essentially a fairly new town, developed in response to growth in interest in skiing and other outdoor alpine pursuits. The shops are classy and modern and over represented by restaurants.

    Ross was gobsmacked by one sport, the mountain bike riding. There were a great many cyclists wandering around with their protective gear on, but he commented that as they came down the slope they took moguls and jumps and launched themselves into air. It was quite breathtaking. As a one time skier he also commented that the slope for the women's downhill was incredible. It was five kilometres long. By contast the Mt Bulla run might be a kilometre or so.

    I have discovered another thing about Canadians today. It was always there but I only just worked out what it was. They love the superlative. Things are not just "good", they are "really good", not just "delicious" but the "most delicious" and the scarf I was wearing today was "spectacular, gorgeous and fabulous". I do like it and it is dramatic, but such superlatives are a little OTT. They also tend to use their outside voice all the time. Someone can be right beside you when you thank them for their service and they shout out at double digit decibels that they are " entirely pleased to have been able to be of service" and hope that I will call on them again if I have any further needs. Quite extraordinary.
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  • Day 7

    Snow to Sun

    August 29, 2018 in Canada ⋅ 🌧 10 °C

    The day began in glorious sunshine. It was cool and crisp and refreshing. Most of the people in the group who had shared stories of broken sleep were able to admit to feeling a little more awake this morning, including me. We did not dally long in Whistler after breakfast and we were back on the bus and heading out by eight o'clock. The normal route to our next stop had been closed because of recent landslides and so we were forced to retrace our tracks right back through Vancouver and out the other side. It meant we probably travelled another 100-150 kilometres. It meant a long day on the bus. Fortunately, we stopped every hour or so for "washroom breaks". Isn't it interesting that so many cultures have so many ways of saying "toilet". These breaks were also important to have us all get off the bus and stretch our legs.

    Each day we are on the bus we are rotated to different seats. Today we were in the front row. It made it nicer to be able to see what was coming but a bit scary sitting so close to the driver and seeing how close he came to other vehicles on the road. Great logging trucks laden with freshly cut timber, tankers, RVs and other huge vehicles did not seem to phase our driver who belted past them at 120 km an hour, sometimes, I swear, were within centimeters of our bus. I found myself gripping the rail in front of me at times. I have also never been in a bus that needed to change lanes as often as we did. Sometimes I think it was just to cut corners or provide some interest for the driver. Later in the day, when I took advantage of a spare seat towards the back, to stretch out and smooth out the cricks in the body from sitting in one confined position all day, I overheard another conversation from others in the group, including a former truck driver who was not impressed by our appointed driver.

    We made it through the day without any mishap though. Not so much for a crash we saw on the highway heading in the opposite direction. Many locals drive enormous utes, then attach even bigger caravans etc. behind them. One of them had rolled over and was lying on its side, disconnected from its partner and spun away from it. It looked a real mess. I don't know what caused it but, given that the condition of the road was excellent, I think it just must come down to speed and over correcting a very large vehicle. The police and road safety people were in attendance and everything was under control so we continued on past it, but I did think about the people in the vehicle for quite a time afterwards.

    There was just one other thing about vehicles that caught my attention today. I HATE tailgaters. They upset me when I am driving and when I see them menacing other cars on the road. So when I saw a tiny little runabout car following just a metre behind a huge RV, I went through all the anxieties of this experience. What a foolish driver, I thought, running so close behind a huge thing like that. About an hour later I saw another one, but this time I took a closer look. The second, smaller car was actually being towed by the RV which was being towed behind a gruntmobile. It seems that when people travel with huge caravans for their holiday, they don't want to miss out on having a second car with them so they bring it too. They just attach a second towbar! We see many many sale yards full of brand new shiny caravans with all sorts of gadgets attached on our travels. The people must really like "roughing it" with all the mod cons.

    Our first stop was at a lookout that gave us great views of the Tantalus mountains. I got an excellent picture of a glacier, so that is another thing on the bucket list for this holiday

    A little further along I snapped a picture that entertained me. In the Squamish region, an area strongly connected to the Squamish peoples, they have written their road signs in traditional spelling and modern spelling. I have never seen a word spelled out that had a number as a letter. I did enjoy that. Please check out the pictures that show this creative sign. I would love to have seen more but that was the most interesting example.

    Later, as we headed up to our final destination for today, a ski village called Sun Peaks, we passed another series of signs. This time it had quite a different cultural connection. Out in the middle of woopwoop we saw signs leading to places or regions that had a different thread. There was Portia and Othello, Duke, Desdemona, Romeo and Juliet. As the trend began to emerge we kept trying to decide which name might come next. I was hoping for Benedick and Beatrice and Ross went for Desdemona. He won! I felt quite cheated when the names reverted back to quite ordinary names.

    At regular intervals, beside the road, particularly in the more alpine environments, I noticed small ponds below the side of the road and at the base of the mountain. I asked what name was given to these features, thinking they might have an exotic first nation's name. Bill, the tour director, said that they were called ponds. Then he suggested they might be called "sloos". After some efforts at translation and accent adjustment we realised this word was "slough" (pronounced like plough in Aussie English but slew in Canadian English). Just another pronunciation to add to the "ough" collection. I know there is a city in England called Slough, because I went there. It is only about two kilometres from Windsor and Eton, so this word has come across with the English settlers. Anyway, these features dry out over time and become peat bogs. Certainly the water was rich in tannins and very still. Lots of vegetation grew on the edges. These features do tend to lead to the creation of peat bogs. I had hoped, when asking my question, to learn that beavers had been involved in the part creation of the area and was told this was a possibility. I looked closely to find one but had no luck. I doubt if they would be out at the times we were.

    Our morning tea and washroom stop was at a place called Squamish which had the most amazing children's playground. No simple slides and swings here. A huge climbing frame, four storeys high, invited children up into walking along high wires, tarzan rope swings and other terrifying contraptions. One wire was to be crossed on a bicycle and others had small helicopters or motorcycles that needed to be climbed through or over to get to the next platform. The squeals of delight coming from it told us that this was great fun, but I found it rather challenging to watch.

    Inside, after the obligatory washroom stop, I wandered around the visitor's centre. I took some photos of a black bear and a grizzly but they were stuffed, which was sad, but interesting. There was also a very clever display of wood carving, illustrating the history of logging in the area. The crafting of this was remarkable.

    Back on the bus we drove on to Abbotsford, travelling right through Vancouver again. Abbbotsford is in the very fertile Thompson delta and it grows blueberries and cranberries, but also many other cash crops to feed the people of Vancouver and beyond. Ocean Spray, the people who sell us cranberry jelly, come from this region. Another major crop getting greater coverage in the delta is marijuana. It is about to be legalised for personal use and so much energy is going in to developing the new crop. They already have medicinal cannabis, but this is an extension. The government says it will supervise the production and sale (please read "tax it heavily"). It may remove the Vietnamese gangs that currently grow it illegally and the Hells Angels that transport it to America, illegally. There may be more benefit from legalising it than many saw possible. I know that when we stopped for lunch at the Farmers Market and petting zoo, I could buy hemp cookies right beside the chocolate chip ones. I chose not to. One or two on the tour were just a little scandalised by it all.

    The petting zoo at Abbotsford was cute with a miniature horse, donkey, and pig, some regular sized goats, sheep and chickens, a couple of turkeys and a delightful little bull calf who wanted to get close and personal with everyone. The goats had a pen that allowed them to climb onto the roof and graze on the grass planted there for them. Goats are hilarious creatures and these were no exception, head butting each other on the roof of the shed.

    After the lunch we headed up another pass through the various mountain ranges, all smothered in conifers, except by the roadsides that sprouted vast spinnies of silver birch, aspen and blackberry. I wondered if we would ever see a skyline that wasn't covered in pine trees. In one long pass we were told that, because of its location there was a lot of snow in this section of the road. The road and cliffs often picked up 2 - 5 metres of snow and while snow plows could clear the road, the possibility of avalanches was so great that they had to protect the people travelling through. The best way was to actually cause avalanches and have them controlled. To do this they shot a howitzer cannon, or similar devices, into the snow covered mountain, forcing the snow down until the threat was minimized. We were even shown the emplacement for the gun. Quite scary really.

    Within a short time, I nudged Ross and said "Look. No pines!" In a single turn of a bend we moved into the dry region. Most of the moisture dropped on the other side of the mountain and did not make it across the peaks. That meant that, apart from the very tops, the hills and valleys carried nothing much more than sage brush and scrubby grasses. The land was useful for cattle but not much else. The heart of this region is called Kamloops, a first nation word that suggests "meeting place". It is still that today and there is a set of buildings where many bands (tribes) come together for "potlatch", or ceremonial gathering even today. That is pleasing.

    We moved out of that valley after a while and found our way back into the conifer forests and on to Sun Peaks where we are in a hotel that tries to pretend it is small cabins. It is quite comfortable but it is not the Hilton. We walked around the corner for a special fur traders dinner. It is not very likely that they ate what we did, but we all played along. All I can say was that there was just too much food and I had to stop. Almost immediately after, we were all loaded onto another bus. This one was an old yellow school bus. It would not meet standards in Australia, I think, but all it was expected to do was get us ten kilometres outside town, up a dirt track to McGillivray Lake where we were invited to go canoeing. I was not prepared to test my shoulders any more with paddling, so happily minded handbags on the shore and took photos of the others paddling around the lake in the gloaming. It was a charming way to finish the day. I am quite ready for bed now and looking forward to another good night's sleep.
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  • Day 8

    The journey of five mountain ranges

    August 30, 2018 in Canada ⋅ 🌧 9 °C

    We learned something new today. We had been hearing about various mountains each day of our tour. What we hadn't been aware of was that we have actually been shifting between five different mountain ranges. Today, for the first time, we actually entered the Rocky Mountains. Originally the different mountain ranges had been on different tectonic plates and they crashed into each other a few million years ago and began pushing and shoving until they overlapped and began pushing up. The Rockies seem to be bigger than the other mountains so far. One of the first really big mountains in the Rockies was Mt Robson. Well, we just had to take people's word for the full size. We couldn't see the top at all.

    When we got up this morning there was the lightest drizzle and moistness in the air. None of us was troubled by this. The hotels all seem to keep their airconditioning on high temperatures and so stepping out into some fresh and cooling air was delightful. The clouds were quite high so we felt that it might be grey but reasonably clear. After about half way through the morning I noticed a small cloud hovering between mountains and I thought this an interesting feature. Then they grew in number and density. Soon we were driving through clouds while it was still drizzling. Odd. By the time we got to Mt Robson, the air was still damp. It was not raining, but the clouds completely hid the top of the mountain. Apparently, this is not unusual. On two out of every five days the top of the mountain cannot be seen at all. It is so tall that it creates its own climate. Even if the rest of the region is experiencing fine weather it can be snowing on top. We took photos but they revealed very little. Just a waterfall from the recent rain and a pocket or two of snow.

    We stopped at Mt Robson to have lunch. Ross decided he was going to tick something off his bucket list. He was going to eat poutine. It is a special Canadian favourite. So, while I ate a garden salad he ate deep fried chips covered in cheese curd and smothered in gravy. He really needed to eat some of the greens and I took some of his poutine. It was not as bad as I had thought, but I wouldn't want to eat it too often. Ross has decided that we could have it at home occasionally. We will have to look into where to get the cheese curds.

    On our journeying today I was looking out for one particular thing. I wanted to see a beaver swamp. I thought I might have seen some the other day but they had been small and I figured they were generally bigger. Well, I had my bucket list ticked to that as well today. It took a bit of close observation and in the speed of the bus racing down the highway this was a challenge. By the time I had decided that I was definitely looking at a beaver swamp there was not sufficient time to take the photo. They are really interesting. The ground is wet because of the damming of the river and bog plants grow thickly. Sometimes it would look like solid ground but then you would see the base of the plant and it was sitting in water. It would be really dangerous to walk through it. I could not see a lodge but this is not suprising because they are often well hidden. I feel confident that I saw what I wanted to see.

    Things like the beaver activity are really important for the health of the forest. When they were hunted nearly to extinction they found that water birds, plant life and the trees around the site suffered from lack of steady moisture. When beavers stopped being hunted they returned to the forest in numbers and are now back to the numbers there had been before the great decimation.

    Not so the actual forest though. Apparently there is a bug that likes to eat the second layer of bark on the many of the different pines. It has taken hold in the forest. The best way to manage it is to allow fire to reduce the thickness of the forest. Secondly, at a particular time in the life cycle of the bug, severe cold will kill it off. Severe cold means temperatures 40 degrees below zero. These temperatures have not been met in the last few years. And they tell us that climate change is not real!!!? When the bug is adult, it moves to a nearby tree, burrows in and lays eggs. The larvae then eat the bark and essentially ring bark the tree. These movements can be timed to almost exact dates on the calendar, they are so predictable. They can just happen on too large a scale to manage. On one particular day a few years ago, a strong wind blew through a forested area that had the bugs in it. The bugs were in flight mode. The wind picked them up and blew them long distances away from their original site. It was so noticable that weather forecasters couldn't work out what this mass of substance was in the radar. When they realised it was the bugs they knew it was a disaster. Within twelve months they could tell that the infestation had taken hold over huge areas and that many hectares were dying. They had no idea that whole forest were dying. Whole national parks were condemned. The trees take three years to lose cohesion and they can still be harvested during this time but they can't keep up. When they are all gone, the logging industry will fail and the whole region will go into economic crisis . All because of a bug. It will take another 30 years to grow the trees back.

    In another area, fires have taken hold and destroyed miles of forest. It looks a very harsh environment with only burnt trunks sticking up in the air. The balance then is a challenge. They need the fires but the fires get too big and too hot.

    Mind you I have never seen so many trees. The forest is completely dense. When they talk about geting lost in a forest I could clearly understand it. I think the word "impenetrable" would be the most apt word. I could not see gaps at all at times . I kept looking for bears and moose but I couldn't see beyond the first row of trees, they were so thick.

    I didn't mention morning tea time. This was at Dutch Lake where the painted turtle lives. This turtle is not noticeable from the top because it is a plain boring green colour. However, its underneath is apparently brightly coloured and each is different from the other. We didn't see any. It was too cold for them. I did see a cute cat!

    Before arrriving in Jasper this evening, we called into the town and wandered around for a while. We bought one or two souvenirs and took photos of the local totem pole. It is a bit awkward, but totem poles do not belong to inland first nations. They belong to coastal peoples. We were inland. It seems everyone is in to cultural appropriation. It is a nice pole though. I bought a book on them and discovered that the saying that someone is on the bottom of the totem pole is actually the best place to be, not the worst as most people think. It is where the people can see the most and it is therefore the most significant. I shall read more because I am interested to learn about the significance of each of the regular creatures that appear on the poles.

    At dinner tonight we finally sat down with the other Victorians on the tour. Well, it is probably inevitable, but Don works on Puffing Billy as a volunteer. He and his wife live in Camberwell. I expect we might actually run into these people again.

    Tonight was also washing night and Ross has just come in from finishing off the clothes. Now he wants to read through this blog to make sure I have got the destinations, distances and details right. Over to him now.
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  • Day 9

    Five glaciers, three oceans, one elk

    August 31, 2018 in Canada ⋅ ☁️ 6 °C

    We had quite a treat first thing this morning. After breakfast we were back on the bus and within seconds we found our first elk, just around the corner from our hotel. Now please note that an elk is not a moose or a caribou or a deer. This was explained to us in careful detail later in the day. But while we were greatly interested in the elk, this elk was not at all interested in us. He was in rut and had a substantial set of antlers suggesting he was about four years old and was out gathering and protecting his harem. His eyes never really left them. I managed to get a shot from a long distance from a moving bus so the shot is terrible, but unmistakably an elk.

    When we pulled up some time later for a walk around Maligne Gorge(pronounced "maleen", French for "evil", because the corpulant French Jesuit priest, with insufficient swimming experience, tried to cross the river and was not entirely successful. Emerging wet and overcome by his near death experience, he felt the need to curse the river forever by giving it a bad name. If anything, he is the one we laugh at now). We had a very interesting talk about the various creatures in the Jasper National Park.

    The elk are doing reasonably well. They also come in close to town. They are wild and quite unsafe, particularly the males during rut, and having one in your front yard, blocking your access to your car, is a legitimate excuse for getting to work late in Jasper. The elk grows antlers each year and loses them each year in a moult. They grow them, with a full blood supply, up to a centimetre a day. This creates the striations in the antlers. They deposit large amounts of calcium into the antlers to build up their strength, but at the same time depleting the rest of their body. When the time comes, the blood supply ceases, the elk rubs off the velvet coating and the calcium deposited in the growing period becomes hard antlers. He uses them to impress the ladies and ward off any other potential mate for any females. Despite the fact he is calcium depleted and carrying a weighty headgear, testosterone takes over and he is a force to be reckoned with. He will fight off anything looking like it might be interested in his harem. One story, true or not, was that a male elk attacked a car parked nearby because it had bicycles on the roof rack and he mistook the handlebars for antlers. Handsome? Yes. Clever, not so much! Testosterone takes away the capacity to think, as we all know. After a season of serving all of his harem, not eating or sleeping as he protects his herd, he is often completely exhausted. This makes him potential prey for wolves and wolverines. If he is too weak to fight, they kill and then eat him. That means that for probably just one or two years, the herd has one patriarch but then a new one steps in, broadening the gene pool. There is a plan after all.

    Also while at Maligne Gorge, we were shown samples of the various horns and antlers shed by the other local creatures. The only one that was a true horn belonged to the mountain sheep. Its skull is significantly reinforced to allow for the extensive battles between the other big horned males. More testosterone, more headaches. The caribou are different in one major aspect. Both the male and female have antlers. Unfortunately, the caribou is under major threat and the numbers are now critically low here. This came about because their main predator, the wolf, which had been limited in its ability to chase and kill caribou in the thick snow drifts, suddenly gained quick access via the road system built by the humans. Humans would regularly clear the road to get their cars through and both the caribou and the wolf used these clear ways to get around. Our guide also said she had seen wolves by the road, just watching out for the traffic as they went about their business. We are unlikely to see any because they like to keep their presence quiet. We did see one in a glass case at the last hotel. It was hard to look at. It is such a noble creature and to have it stuffed and standing alongside equally stuffed bear and wolverine was sad, even if it was educational.

    The Gorge itself was extraordinary. The melt from a glacier had worn away the rocks over the millenia until it was a deep chasm with circular carvings in the rocks where eddies had swirled for centuries. We were told that this water did not end up in another waterway or make its way to the ocean. It went down underground into vast aquafers in the limestone.

    Our next stop was at a point of significant geological importance. There were five glaciers all with the one panorama and most converging into the one valley. We were booked to go on a tour and walk on the Athabasca glacier. I was troubled by this. I don't think we should walk on these fragile things. They are disappearing and climate change and human intervention have challenged their health for a long time. My convictions did not hold out though. The young women who led the tour said she was a glaciologist and so I allowed myself to be persuaded. I think I was wrong. We drove in a bus from the visitor centre to another terminus where we got on a thing called the Ice Explorer, that had some of the biggest wheels I have ever seen. About $8 k each! The trip was a bit hair raising. The last stage of road onto the glacier was very steep. It was at 32% gradient or 1 in 3 drop. The truck then drove us onto the ice. I was quite troubled by this stage. They were churning up the ice with the wheels and footsteps. There were many people on the glacier. I just gave up. The damage had been done and they were not going to stop doing it. It is very lucrative. I took a few shots then got back on board the Ice Explorer and we headed back. Along the way we saw a millwheel which is where the water dives down through the glacier in an ice blue cavern. It is so deep they cannot even estimate its length or where it might end.

    This day had promised to be one of the coldest we would experience and we were told it was about 0 degrees on the ice plus the wind chill factor. It was very cold in the strong icy wind. Of course this was the day Ross chose not to bother with the long johns bought specially for the trip, nor the puffy jacket I had bought him. When we arrived at the vistor centre he suddenly realised how cold it was. I pointed out the section in the gift shop that had jackets and the next thing I saw was Ross stepping out in a lime green fleecy windcheater. I was astounded. If I had tried to buy that for him at home he would have been horrified at its garishness. Today, he felt he was living the part of an adventurer and so had chosen something that would make him stand out in the snow. When he got onto the glacier he lasted about two minutes. It was too cold and his new dress shoes had no grip so he got back on the bus!

    The mountain we were on was about seven thousand feet high and very steep. But a nearby mountain called the Snowglobe holds a record, not for its height but that it is the only mountain in the world that marks a three way continental divide.

    A continental divide is when water falling on one side of the mountain flows to one ocean and on the other side it flows to a completely different ocean. We had seen a couple of examples of that already, when we hit the Rockies. This one went three ways. On one side the water flowed to the Pacific, on another face it ran towards the Arctic and the third face ran waters towards rhe Atlantic. Amazing!

    Soon afterwards we drove alongside a mountain range that was called a chain mountain. That is, that it goes on for many kilometers in a line without any valleys. This too was the biggest in the world. I can only say that no photo could do justice to the sheer size of all these interminable mountains.

    Another brief stop was overlooking the North Saskatchewan river which Ross required me to inform you about, so that I could write Saskatchewan!

    Our last stop before arriving at Emerald Lake was at Kicking Horse River land bridge. Again, glacial waters had carved amazing shapes and tunnels through rocks and the water. The rain we have had today was going gangbusters down the valley.

    We had rain this afternoon, fog between various passes, a brief snow flurry above us on the glacier and a rainbow over Emerald Lake this evening as we sat down for our dinner. The weather has definitely been interesting. There were several more things to write about today but I think I could save some up for tomorrow.
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  • Day 10

    Bound for Banff

    September 1, 2018 in Canada ⋅ ☀️ 12 °C

    Another early start this morning took us out of our rather too warm cabin by Emerald Lake into a very brisk morning. It was still overcast, so the sharpness and clarity of all our photos is diminished but we could see the fog rising from the still and very chilly waters of this glacier fed lake. There was no sign of the loons, a type of water bird, that had honked and hooted throughout the night. They are quite elusive to see but completely unavoidable to hear. The sound is a booming noise that lifts off the surface of the water and bounces around the snow covered mountains surrounding us on all sides. I would very much like to have seen one.

    This place was quite isolated and lacked some facilities that are considered normal in most places these days. This would not have troubled me if I had been forewarned. There was no internet in the cabins and intermittent electricity for charging our devices. I had just enough battery to go to the main reception and send out the blog when I got up in the morning. It took three goes to get it sent. During the day Ross' phone gave up and also his camera. I had charged my phone and camera earlier and so was ok. Not so for my tablet device which struggled.

    Anyway, we got through it and are happily ensconced in out hotel toom in Banff, reeling after yet another enormous meal. I could not eat half my main course and did not even try dessert! In the film "Philomena", the main character goes to the US in search of her son, but her neighbour had seen something on the tv about large portion sizes in America and warned poor Philomena about them. The poor woman was constantly concerned about portion sizing for the whole film. I find myself echoing these sentiments.

    There were one or two things I left out of yesterday's blog. Here is one. Why is glacial melt water so remarkably blue? The many rivers and lakes we have seen with this dramatic colour indicate that it is not an isolated matter. I know I have seen it elsewhere as well.

    Well, it turns out that it is the suspended fine dust powder in the water from the grinding of the ice against rock at the base of the glacier. These dust particles, called rock flour, have a small electrical charge which means these tiny particles repel each other like magnets do and so remain suspended in the water, not settling to the bottom for some considerable time. The ultraviolet light from the sun is reflected from these particles creating the vivid blue colour of the water.

    The next burning question was, why there are so few trucks on the roads. There are thousands of RVs but almost no heavy transport vehicles, except for logging vehicles. The answer is trains. They have huge trains that roll along quite slowly on the very busy lines. Some trains, carrying nothing but containers, will go for 240 carriages, many of them double stacked. Fifteen minutes further down the track you see another train of similar size carrying tankers. It is quite amazing and the roads are relatively clear. There are still trucks but they tend not to be large and are certainly not as frequent.

    Now, for today. Our first stop was at Lake Louise. This is a major resort and very crowded. The Fairmont hotel is uber posh and stands directly opposite the huge glacier that comes down the mountains at the opposite end of the lake. The view is amazing.

    We were particularly lucky and our tour director kept saying "Oh my, oh my" as he looked towards the glacier. I had whipped out my camera very fast because I could see what had caught his breath. A tiny pocket of sun had hit the walls of the mountains and they shone against the otherwise cloudy skies. The sunlight kept moving around picking up different facets of the rocks casting shadows and sparkling. The only tricky thing was ensuring no pesky people stood in front of the camera and struck a stupid pose. Let's face it, pouting at the camera does not make the glacier and the Rocky Mountains more interesting, nor any less important. These stupid people mock it by their inane posturings. I got some great shots. Hopefully they will print up well. It was certainly beautiful watching colours move around the faces of the mountain. We were very lucky to have seen it.

    As I was wandering away from this scene I heard a Chinese voice say "beaver!". I looked down and there it was. Nothing like a beaver in fact, but a decidedly cute little critter nevertheless, about 30 cm from nose to tail. We later discovered it to be a ground squirrel. He bounded around and scuttled among the rocks by the water's edge. He was completing his last forays into the district to gather food for the winter. I actually filmed him! Not too much later we saw another cute little critter scurrying along. This one was different. Slightly smaller than the first, he was another kind of ground squirrel. Neither should have been out hunting at this late stage of the season, we were assured.

    It was not isolated though, because on our way to Banff we called in to a gondola that went up Sulphur Mountain. After we had had a good look around, we sat in the leeward side of the building, away from the snow inspired wind and watched some more ground squirrels gathering up food for the winter. These ones were harder to photograph. They are very quick and the tourists kept disturbing them. This just sent them underground. They were very cute though.

    More wildlife surprised us today. In the forest by the side of the road, I saw a moose. We had sped passed before I could photograph it, but I felt confident that it was nevertheless, a sighting. About ten minutes later our tour guide yelled "Moose! Moose! Stop the bus. Moose!" The bus came to a screeching halt. I was just about to take the picture when the bus jolted, the moose scarpered and I took a great picture of the back of the seat in front of me. Another missed opportunity. The tour director was very excited. He had not seen moose in the park for a great many years. It was indeed a privilege to see such a creature even if I have no proof of it. I have now seen several elk, quite a few deer, (many in suburban gardens) ground squirrels and moose. Let's not forget the local bird called the magpie. Nothing like our magpie except for being black and white. This creature has a long tail and a boring call, not at all like our majestic bird.

    When we got to Banff we went shopping. I had shown Ross a picture in which the back of his head was very clear. He was horrified to find out he had a bald patch. ( He'd never believed me when I had told him.) He immediately went out and bought himself a beanie. I have tried for a long time to get him to wear one and he had always refused. Perhaps I should have used the camera earlier! This time he did not buy a lime green one. He was disappointed he could not get it in Richmond colours, but that seemed unlikely in Banff! He gets a fix of footy regularly enough from his fellow football mad travellers. They are all so happy chatting about their teams.

    You may recall the excursion to the glacier where Ross neglected to wear his long johns, had to buy a new jacket because his really good one was in his case and he was too cold and his dress shoes were too slippery so he got back on the bus? Well, today, he did it again. He did not wear his long johns and failed to bring either of his warm jackets on the excursion up the gondola to the top of the mountain that was well over 7600 feet. It had an arctic blast coming through the long valley. I told him he was not allowed to buy another jacket, (he admitted this would be pushing it) so he spent his time conquering the great indoors while I took on the icy gusts for some shots down into the various valleys that met at this point. The cloudy skies meant that none of them was particularly good. There was a rather spectacular mirror bear statue awaiting me at the exit to outdoors. Maybe Ross had it right. Anyway, now he has a beanie that he can leave behind.

    I teased him this morning, before the jacket fiasco, saying that he had come back to the breakfast table saying he was going to get fruit and he came back with rice bubbles. Then he said he would follow it with toast and came back with a full cooked breakfast. When I drew his attention to all this, he did say that perhaps he succumbed to the suggestable too often and wasn't really good at thinking things through. I wonder if, when we go canoing tomorrow, he will remember to wear clothes suitable for drifting down a glacial river and that he has set aside some dry warm gear if he falls in the drink. That is extremely unlikely of course, but I will be sure to let you know if he forgets his jacket and beanie.
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  • Day 11

    The Bow of Banff

    September 2, 2018 in Canada ⋅ ⛅ 6 °C

    So nice to have a day when we weren't getting our bags out early to scramble onto the bus in order to see all the sites we need to see in a day. Today we got a sleep in, get the washing done and have breakfast over by a leisurely 9.30 am. Then it was a chance to repack the bags with our clean clothes and plan our day. Our big plan was to keep it simple. Our one organised activity had been planned and booked beforehand and that was to float down the river in a raft. What a glorious, peaceful and stimulating hour. I felt like Mole on his first boating adventure with Ratty.

    Our oarsman was from South Africa and one of the many young people who come to Banff to work in the tourist trade. We were told that sometimes as many as 60% of young workers in Banff will come from Australia, followed by other countries in the world and finally the Canadians. There is a special promotion that encourages this seasonal work and that it is very popular. It is great for the young people who work hard, party hard, get their bonuses, then move on to new destinations where they do it again, until they decide it is time to go home.

    This young man was remarkably strong, steering and paddling a boat full of people down a fast flowing river, the Bow River, showing us the sites and telling us tales for an hour and then repeating it all again five times a day. His lunch, toilet and breathing breaks occur in the eight minutes between trips when the raft is transported up the river again and then put back in the water. The river runs too fast to paddle back up, so they do it by road vehicle. He does this every day while he saves up for his studies in adventure guiding. He told us that last year he had done the unit on rock climbing. This is not really his thing but it is a requirement so he did it. They were on a rockface that was deemed extremely safe when a tree uprooted itself high above and crashed down the side of the mountain. It missed him by inches. The man beside him was critically injured, helicoptered out, but died later in Calgary hospital, and the leader of the group had his spine broken. Scary!

    He pointed out some very interesting things to us as we floated along. Alongside the river grows a silvery shrubby tree called the Silverberry. It is rather unremarkable. It is slow growing and very fibrous. The local first nations people made their bows from it because it bends well while still staying strong. They taught other bands of indigenous peoples in their regular powows and there was a lively trade in the wood. It is this bow wood that named the river, the mountain valley, and the region.

    He also had us turn back towards Banff to see a small mountain. It was called Tunnel Mountain because the early white developers wanted to put a tunnel through it for the trains. This upset the local indigenous people for whom the mountain had spiritual significance. It could, like so many other similar disputes, have ended in bloodshed and the removal of the traditional owners. However, a Methodist (?) Minister who had lived among the locals for a long time learned of the significance and set about trying to achieve a suitable compromise. He succeeded and the train line did not cut through the mountain. The indigenous people called the mountain Sleeping Buffalo and if you look at the picture of it you can see the big head on the far right, the massive hairy hump behind his head and then the trailling off of his body towards his hind quarters. I prefer this name much more than Tunnel Mountain.

    To thank the cleric for his fine work they named the largest (not tallest, but longest) local mountain, Mt Rundle after him. I agree. A fitting reward for a fine conciliator.

    This brings me to an explanation that made a lot of sense. If a mountain is named for a feature of the mountain, such as Sleeping Buffalo Mountain or Sulphur Mountain, both nearby here, the adjective precedes the noun of the word "Mountain" as all adjectives in English should. If, however, the mountain is named after a person, such as Mt Rundle or Mt Robson then the person's name follows the word Mountain. A very sensible and satisfying device for nomenclature.

    Our wildlife sightings grew again today in very satisfactory ways. No more elk today but we were told that the 27 hole golf course than runs alongside the Bow River (it brought sighs and gasps of pleasure from the golfers in our shuttle today as we wandered through it to get back to base) becomes a major battle ground for male elk in about two weeks' time. By that stage the elk will be in full rut and in order to demonstrate their prowess and defeat other antlered males, they need a clear open space. They fight for supremacy on the greens and fairways, churning up the ground by raking it with their antlers and charging at each other. The ground staff get very cross at having to patch up the fairways before play can commence each day. I suggested they should sell tickets and get their money that way. It may yet happen. Players also have to watch out for bears, both black and grizzly, who wander across every now and then from the forested side. Apparently it can be quite unwise to go searching for a lost ball with many near misses for the golfers who have not noticed the huge bear next to their golf ball. I noticed quite a few roanberries growing between fairways on the course and roanberries are a big favourite with bears. At the moment they are bulking up for winter and so are deeply attracted to the fruit.

    What we did see today, first padding along the rocks on the far side of the river in the distance, then later, in clear striking beauty and trotting towards us were two coyote. As always, the raft could not stop and, had it done so, might have scared the beastie off, but we took definite sightings and definite bragging rights. Just as we got off the raft and were waiting for the second raft to arrive and disgorge its passengers, I happened to glance down to see a really beautiful dragonfly at my feet. It stayed still long enough for me to capture its brilliant colours and translucent lacy wings. It was a striking blue colour. I was very pleased with the pictures of this one.The dragonfly also appears frequently on some of the totems but I can find no explanation for it yet. I must look further.

    I also need to tell you that we passed a limestone rock formation called the Hoodoos, standing like Halloween sheet-draped ghosts on an outcrop beside the river. The river valley is U shaped, denoting its glacial origins, as opposed to V shaped which indicate fast running water carving through rock and earth. The river shifts its path regularly as bits of the river become clogged with the rocks brought down by the glacier, and then the water must find a new path. Sometimes these will be washed away in spring and sometimes the course of the river will be irrevocably changed and move off in a different direction. As we are now at the end of summer the water level is as low as it can be. Our raft captain said that he thought the river had dropped two inches (5 cm) since yesterday in some places because the clearance in some areas was much less. He also pointed out where the water would regularly rise to, when the Spring melt brought down vast quantities of melted snow and ice. Much of the lower sections of the golf course disappear under the overflow and the width of the river, instead of being just ten or twelve metres across would be thirty or forty metres and a raging torrent. With mountains as high as 12,000 metres all around us, glaciers above the permanent snowline can produce a lot of water. We learned that it takes 50 metres of snow to make one metre thickness of glacial ice so that makes it very dense and loaded with water for the melt.

    This afternoon we wandered into town for a light lunch. We thought savoury crepes might do it until, coming to the end of our ham, cheese and spinach crepes, I decided to have a little party. I told Ross that I was going to have a waffle dessert. He stressed that nothing else would pass his lips. I knew that line and didn't believe it. This morning, as with all other mornings, Ross swore he was going to have a small meal of healthy fruit and came back with a cooked breakfast groaning on his plate, again. So when I ordered my wafffle and heard his protestations about how I was going to have to eat all I ordered, I knew what was going to happen. My waffle arrived and I set about adding the toppings. First, there was raspberry frozen yoghurt, then chocolate, then toffee, then cookies and cream. After that I added strawberries, raspberries and bluberries, followed by chocolate covered raisins, smashed m&ms , crunchy granola, and a couple of other sprinkles, then some chunks of cookie dough, brownie and nut bar. Not being finished yet, I added toppings of caramel and hot chocolate and sour cherry toppings. The waffle was then weighed and I paid just under $20! I brought it back to the table where I suggested Ross could take my picture. I then took his and invited him to have a taste. There was no holding him back. Rarely have I seen food go down so fast. It was a funny moment or two. When he realised he had scoffed well over half, he stopped, feeling somewhat ashamed of his reversal of intention, but as I steadily finished off the rest he kept pointing out bits I had missed and how it was best to eat it. Clearly he was still eating it in his mind, even if it was not passing his lips. It was a fun meal, never to be repeated.

    Now here is another interesting factoid. Cars, buses and trucks must turn off their engines when they come to a stop. If it is just traffic lights, they can leave the engines on, but if they have stopped to let people on and off, they must turn off their engines. This is to reduce the carbon monoxide exhaust fumes polluting the air. Everywhere you go there are signs exhorting drivers to turn off their engines. No idling allowed. I really approve of this.

    I know that many of the legislations here might seem a little like social engineering, but most sound really sensible and helpful to the community. There are strict rules about health care that insist that wealth should not earn the wealthy any better care than the poor man and housing assistance is provided for those who come to work in distant places. I respect that. I think the Canadians really do have the right idea on so many matters.

    Anyway, I have now finished writing my blog for the day and it is not midnight and I am not propping my eyes open with toothpicks. It is nearly 6 pm and Ross has just finished off the second load of washing for the day. We will have bags full of clean clothes ready for the next leg of our journey. Tomorrow, we start early to get to the train station to catch the Rocky Mountaineer. This will be two days, stopping overnight at Kamloops, then finishing the next day in Vancouver. We have another break, then we head into US territory and up into Alaska and the boat trip. Another adventure on the way.
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