Great Big Pointy Teeth

This is the second part of the journal I wrote during a year spent travelling back before the toddler was born, which I'm sharing now in a fit of nostalgia for the days when I didn't require a full backpack and a will of steel just to go to the shops.


5 October
Great Big Pointy Teeth
  

We made it safely out of Alaska, and are now in Canada. We spent a few days in Vancouver, which is a really beautiful city, and we really enjoyed being somewhere with real shops (and 24 hour access to chocolate). About a week ago we picked up our hire car and headed on out into the sticks again. This was more momentous than it might sounds, as it has been 10 years since I drove, and that was only to get my licence. My husband has now recovered from his first experience as my passenger, and we are hoping his nails and hair will grow back soon. It has to be said that winding roads clinging optimistically to the sides of mountains make for very exciting driving practice. Especially when suspended 150m above a raging river.

We spent five days camping in Wells Gray Provincial park, which is a lesser known cousin of the famous Jasper and Banff National parks, and was really wonderful. It was utterly remote and the leaves were all turning so the already spectacular views were even more lovely. We were the only people camping at our campground, which made us a spectacle of interest to the people who were staying in the well-heated and extremely comfortable-looking lodges nearby. Several of them came out and stared at us each evening, and some even ventured near enough to point out, incredulously, that we must be freezing. I have now perfected the art of saying "not at all, I have a jumper" through chattering teeth.

Whilst Wells Gray is famous for its bears and moose, our only wildlife encounter (apart from one small and scared looking venom-less snake) was with a truly fierce creature. We were out on another ambitious hike (we are constantly surprised by how fit we don't seem to be) and had stopped to rest and eat our lunch by the side of the trail. We had almost finished when a small squirrel, about the size of my hand, rocketed across the trail and shot up a tree behind us. It stared meaningfully at us for a while then started up an unholy racket, chattering, grunting, squealing and hissing, leaping about the tree branches and throwing pine cones and bits of chewed off branch at us. This display of aggression continued for a while, increasing in intensity as the minutes passed, and we sat watching, unimpressed, until it leapt threateningly onto the branch directly above us and looked as if it was preparing to lunge. Suddenly Mr Dog looked at me and said - "you know, it could have rabies..."  Well, you have never seen anyone pack up and piss off so fast.

Since we left Wells Gray we have travelled into the Rockies, and put the final nail into the coffin of our smug plan to have a whole year of summer. After the cold nights of Wells Gray we were starting to appreciate our decision to stay in a hostel rather than camp in Lake Louise (a decision made not through wise foresight, but because the campsite was closed to tents due to "excessive bear activity in the area").

We had been long anticipating the drive down the Icefields Parkway between Jasper and Lake Louise, which is widely billed as one of the most beautiful roads in the world due to the towering mountains, breathtaking gorges, fall colours, etc, so we set out optimistically from Jasper in spite of the sullen drizzle. As the road began to climb we met the clouds and fog, which settled in so solidly that we did not see a solitary peak, or indeed anything more than three metres beyond the side of the road, for the entire 230 world-famous kilometres. 

And then it started to snow.

We later learned that they had to shut the road that evening and the snow storm through which we drove did not let up for 24 hours. By the time we woke up the next morning it was to a white-Christmas, chestnuts-roasting-on-an-open-fire, winter-wonderland landscape. We immediately went out for a hike and had a fantastic day having snowball fights, smacking trees to catapult mounds of snow at each other, and generally acting like children. Haven't had so much fun since we were nearly eaten by a rabid squirrel.

31 October

Duck au Vin

Our last week or so in Canada was delightful. 

We spent a week touring around the lower part of British Columbia where we hiked some more stunning trails, including one which required us to cross a river in a one-person, hand-operated cable car (they were quite proud of this engineering feat, so we didn't have the heart to ask why they hadn't just built a bridge).

The best bits of this part of our trip were our multiple visits to BC's speciality: hot mineral springs. We took every opportunity to track these down and (politely refusing the offer to enhance our experience by renting a 1920's style bathing costume) immerse ourselves in chest-tighteningly hot sulphur-scented water to watch what is possibly the best entertainment to be had in western Canada: the Plunge-Pool Parade. The most muscular, tanned and manly of men would emerge, lobster-red and steaming, from the hot spring, strut arrogantly around the pool and over to the cold plunge, and jump into the water without testing it first. The cursing and frantic scrabbling for the edge would begin the instant they touched the water, and within seconds they would be lying in a whimpering heap by the side of the plunge, to howls of laughter from the people still huddled in the warm pool. Never got old.

We ended our tour by camping for a couple of days in the Okanagen, which is BC's wine-growing region, where we found an idyllic spot on the beach but had a surreal time having to defend our tent from curious ducks. By happy chance (honestly) our campsite was located between two vineyards and our visit coincided with a wine festival, so of course we were obliged to go to numerous tastings and sample the local offerings. I'm not sure how happy the proprietors of these award-winning wineries would have been to have seen us later that evening, sitting on a picnic bench in our gloves and beanie hats drinking our bottle of "silver medal winning" Cabernet out of camping beakers, but actually I think it was improved by hint of plastic and aroma of duck.

Having been finally overcome by the cold (and having taken the hint that the tourist season was over when they closed down all the attractions and campsites) we decided it was time to leave the country, and set off for Fiji. The 12 hour overnight flight to Nadi was interrupted half way by a stop in Honolulu, which was a totally bizarre experience. We arrived at the gate at about 2am, and were all required to leave the plane and pile onto buses for a 500m drive to the arrivals hall where, regardless of whether we wanted to get out in Hawaii, we had to fill out all the relevant forms and queue up to clear US immigration, then fill out all the relevant forms and queue up to clear US customs. Having accomplished this, we were then ushered 500m back to the departures area, where we had to queue up to clear security so we could return to the same gate and board the same plane, feeling rather like figures in an M.C. Escher painting. 

We recovered from this experience by spending an absolutely wonderful lazy week on a tiny tropical island in Fiji, drinking cocktails and eating coconuts (which, after a week of practice, Mr Dog was able to open with a small camping knife in under two hours). On our last night in Fiji we tracked down a really good curry, something we had been missing horribly since leaving England. Half way through our meal a small kitten wandered past the restaurant and the chef came rocketing out, scooped it up, and ran back inside. We have unanimously decided to read nothing into this entirely innocent incident.

We made it to Australia without further incident (although I was delighted by the service we got from the Australian quarantine officials who didn't like the look of our bear-scented walking boots and very kindly cleaned them for us) and are staying in Sydney for a few days with family before heading off to Western Australia.