Welcome one and all to yet another issue of my amazing adventures. This time, as the title suggests, I have found my way to Canada the country of maple syrup, bears and trains that go ‘toot’ in the night.
Those of you who read my adventures in Morocco will recall that at the end I hinted at a plan for future travel that I was keeping quiet for superstitious reasons. This plan has (perhaps obviously) come to fruition and I have set out on what could be a year long exploration of this vast country. So what made me decide to do this? Well the fact that I like to go and see the world first hand will not come as a surprise to any of you. The thing is that shortly after returning from OZ/NZ I wanted to set off traveling again but for financial reasons couldn’t. Some people seem to think that traveling for long periods of time is something you do once to ‘get it out of your system’. It makes it sound like the flu or food poisoning, something to be endured, recovered from and put behind you. In my experience however it doesn’t work that way. Going traveling doesn’t ‘cure’ you of the desire to see the world beyond, it shows you where that desire can take you. Now some of you will be thinking “hang on a sec’ since OZ you have been to Peru and Morocco etc.” and I have and I enjoyed these trips very much. Short tours have been a great way for me to visit exotic places and see the sights. All the organizing is done for you, the language barrier is less of a problem and it all fits neatly in to a few weeks off work. I have no doubt that I will go on tours again in the future but they simply are not the same as long term in dependant travel. What you don’t get is the feeling of freedom.
Right, well I think I have got you to humor my prattling long enough, so lets get on with the story. As ever it all starts with plane journeys, first from Leeds/Bradford to Heathrow and then from there to Vancouver. Before I could get this second flight however I had to find the BUNAC rep to collect my tickets. I will just briefly explain BUNAC as this acronym will probably be cropping up from time to time. In order to be able to travel around Canada for up to a year and more importantly be able to work legally there I needed to get a ‘work and travel’ visa just like the one I had in OZ. The application process for the Canadian visa is a fraction more complicated however and so I employed the services of BUNAC, a company specialising in getting visa’s for working and volunteering travel. So now you know. Anyway, my plane from Leeds got me in a smidgen late to meet the rep so I tore through Heathrow as fast as I could with my backpack on (which I am rather out of practice carrying). By the time I found the rep I was boiling hot and must have been a bit of a sight. With the first ordeal over I got checked in and set about the task of wasting time in the airport. I was not the only BUNAC-er to be on this flight, the others had met each other when they found the rep but I, having been late, was on my own. I had been told they were sporting some BUNAC branded articles and so spent time trying to spot them. I didn’t, and they didn’t spot me either. Once on the 11 hour flight we met up and all go ton pretty well, which was lucky as the entertainment was almost nonexistent. With the flight out of the way (which unusually for me I found a little tedious) we faced our next challenge. Getting our working visas put in our passports was slow but straight forward, the hard part was getting the bus to downtown Vancouver. There were of course many busses that could take us there but this was part of the problem. We had vouchers that, on the correct bus, would take us where we were going for free. So we wandered about in the rain looking at bus stops and asking anyone that looked as if they might know. Well, after about an hour and a great many false leads we were finally on our way, catching our first glimpses of the soggy city as we went. The bus driver kindly dropped us off directly outside the hostel on account of the rain and there we were. We had arrived at last, a little tired and shabby looking (well I was, I shan’t speak for the others on this point), but in good spirits and full of anticipation. The days only remaining task was to try and stay awake until a decent hour so as to help guard against possible jetlag. By the time I went to be I had been on the go for about 22 hours but despite this still slept for less than 6.
Our first full day in Canada was spent doing the final bit of form filling before BUNAC was prepared to turn us loose. We applied for Social Insurance Numbers and had many things explained to us regarding applying for work and getting apartments and such. All this info would be of use to me a bit later on but my plan (unlike the others) was to see a bit of the country before getting bogged down with such mundane concerns. After all at this stage I had only been unemployed for about 4 days and that included a weekend. Naturally the first place I had to explore was Vancouver itself.
Vancouver surprised me first of all from the air by simply being much bigger than I had expected. Even on the ground it has the feeling of being a big and busy city. It is apparently Canada’s third largest but despite this I actually rather like it (not normally being a big fan of metropolis’s). The next thing that struck me about the place was its rather excellent location sitting between the snow capped mountains and the ocean. The city’s downtown area backs right up to the shore lines of English Bay and the Burrard Inlet offering obvious recreational benefits such as water sports and (slightly naff) beaches which for some reason are scattered with huge logs. For me, however marvelous all this sounds, the bit of Vancouver for which I am most grateful to the city’s long sighted founders is Stanley Park. This park is the largest urban park in North America and is an area of tamed wilderness of almost 1000 acre, bordered on three sides by ocean. It is predominantly dense rainforest but also contains marshland, lakes and (slightly naff) beaches. The part closest to the city is more your typical manicured park and gardens but beyond this a network of woodland paths grant you access to the deep dark interior. My first few attempts to explore the park were hampered by repeated downpours. Since arriving in Vancouver there had been few good days although the sun would generally come out for long enough to dry the pavements before the rain started all over again. For all this the park kept drawing me back, so much so that I neglected to explore the urban parts of the city with any vim, only visiting the places I had to such as supermarkets. Of course I would remedy this later but before then a couple of better weather days gave me the chance I had been waiting for. As usual I am always on the lookout for any and all types of wildlife, especially types I haven’t encountered before (but not exclusively so). So I was pleased to notice on my way to the Lost Lagoon on the city side of the park a fair few herons nesting in the trees. Shortly after this I arrived at the so called lagoon. I say so called because it is really just a lake these days. Originally it had been a tidal in let which almost drained away at low tide but its escape to the sea is now blocked by a road. Continuing on beyond the lagoon I continued to notice the scamperings of the many small dark brown squirrels (which I think people must feed as they are unusually fond of human company). What I hadn’t expected to see boldly plodding across the path right in front of me was a raccoon (first one I have ever seen), which went about its business without seeming to acknowledge the presence of anyone or anything. I continued around the outskirts of the park past the many shiny white boats belonging to the local rowing and yachting clubs to find a collection of totem poles. This set of brightly painted and decoratively carved poles had been gathered here from various native settlements and were all authentic (or authentic replacements). They were rather impressive and each had (as ever) a plaque explaining its history and meaning. It would seem though that these explanations kind of assumed the reader had an understanding of what the different animals represented, something that (to me) wasn’t at all obvious. I think I will have to do some research on this. They did look good though. Further on I came across various minor points of interest including a canon called the 9o’clock gun, a statue called ‘girl in a wetsuit’ that some consider to be a dodgy update of Copenhagen’s Little Mermaid (which I will now have to go and see in order to decide for myself), and a pile of old logs called ‘Lumbermans Arch’ an odd monument to an industry that was keen to fell every tree in the park. Oh, and there is the requisite statue of the almost omnipresent Scott Robbie Burns; no self respecting city can be complete without one, or so it seems. The interior of the park whilst monument and curio free has other charms. The greatest of these in my considered opinion is the fact that you only have to walk a couple of dozen steps inwards and you are totally immersed in dense forest and very often appear to be quite alone. It is amazing that just a couple of hundred meters or so from the middle of the third largest city in the second largest country in the world that you can wander undisturbed through a forest of tall ancient trees, wild flowers and ever present squirrels. Why can’t every city have one of these?
Leaving the park behind but before I explored the city centre I took the tiny ferry across False Creek to Granville Island. This place is anomalous in the same way that the Lost Lagoon is on account of it not being an island. It is a blob of reclaimed swampland that extends in to and is largely (but not completely) surrounded by the waters of False Creek. The island is home to bustling indoor markets, shops, galleries and a marina. There is also some housing and light industry, most notably Granville Island Brewery. Having had a good wander about the place I headed over to the nearby Vanier Park where the Vancouver Museum is located. This museum, I have to say, was rather a disappointment for the simple reason that it’s too small. I did my best to read everything and examine every exhibit but in an hour I had done the lot. That said the exhibits themselves were good.
Right, well, I have skirted the city for as long as I can, its time to tell you what I found in the centre. Not surprisingly there are lots of shops and offices and a pleasing quantity of street art to boot but one of the first things to catch my eye (apart from the sheer quantity of coffee shops Vancouver’s population can sustain) was a building that was a cross between a step-pyramid and a waterfall. I didn’t discover what went on inside but an interesting (if slightly impractical) idea none the less. As I progressed in to an area known as Gastown I happened upon quite the most charming oddity. I was stood before the worlds first (and quite probably only) steam powered clock. According to one of the attached plaques it had cost around $46000 to build and required a continuous supple of steam. Every quarter of an hour it would ‘chime’ or more correctly it would play the Westminster chimes via steam whistles on its top. During this performance droplets of almost boiling water occasionally fell randomly about it. What more could you ask? From here it was only a short walk to Chinatown which my guide book had dared to suggest was a nice place to browse for odds and ends and that there was a vibrant and lively Chinese crowd always bustling about. Well it wasn’t on the day I was there, in fact far from it. Although there were the obvious signs of Chinese influence, such as red archways across the road and golden dragons aplenty, there was no friendly bustling crowd. Almost everyone about (and fortunately there weren’t too any of them) seemed to be drug abusers loitering in doorways and back alleys. I left the area with some haste and haven’t been back to see if it gets any better. I spent a few more days milling about in Vancouver planning my next move whilst I awaited the arrival of a necessary discount card from home which due too an admin failure I hadn’t received before setting off. By the time I came to leave many of the other BUNAC-ers had arranged apartments to live in and some even had work. Well I left them to it and boarded a bus to Kamloops.
I was glad to be back on the road again and able to sit back and enjoy one of my favorite pastimes ‘bus-window sightseeing’. That said the start of the 5.5 hour journey was a touch dull as there was so much of sprawling Vancouver to get through. Gradually things became suburban, then farming ‘cropped’ up and then open plains and distant mountains. Before too long we were flanked by dense forests which were later replaced by steep mountains with tall narrow waterfalls. The weather had got bad, it was raining hard and the trees were holding clouds hostage. Mist and murk descended as we climbed up to the Coquihalla Pass (1244m – ear popping) snow and ice started to appear when all of a sudden I realised we had arrived in Narnia. Once over the pass the weather improved and blue sky crept across the heavens until clouds were but memories. I remember thinking ‘those guys back in Vancouver don’t know what they are missing’. I arrived at the Greyhound terminal in Kamloops (which typically is miles out of town) and sat in a draughty bus shelter waiting for the rather infrequent local bus. Here I met an old timer looking for chat. Originally from Czechoslovakia (as it was then called) eh had migrated across eastern Europe before finding his way to Canada in his early twenties. He could apparently speak 5 languages (but retained his original accent) and by the look of him, worked on a building site. The thing he told me that I found most interesting was that many of the buildings in the centre of town were owned by ‘aboriginal’ people from a nearby reservation. Obviously used as an investment as they will never sell them, just rent them out.
Some ages later the bus arrived and I finally got to the hostel. Without wishing to be unfair to Kamloops (or fruitloops as it is sometimes called as it is a bit of a hick town) the main reasons for coming here are that it is a convenient place to break up the bus journey and the hostel itself. The thing that was so good about the hostel was that it was in the old town Courthouse. Inside this relatively grand old stone building were (due to its heritage status) a great many original features. Some of these were the main courtroom itself (now used as the dining room and lounge) which was complete with judges chair, witness and jury boxes etc. all in ornately carved dark wood. When you went and sat in the judge’s chair (it was just begging to be sat in) you faced the rather nice stained glass windows. Another fun part of all this was the showers that were down in the cells. Out and about in Kamloops there wasn’t a great deal to see and do but I enjoyed the views if nothing else as the town is surrounded by the first mountains I had seen up close since getting to Canada. Also the bad weather seemed to be gone for good as the days were gorgeous without a cloud in the sky. I took a wander down to the riverside park, crossing the railway line on my way via a rather excessive footbridge. It made me wonder why exactly they had put the bridge there at all as the road beneath crossed the tracks anyway. It wasn’t until that evening when I witnessed one of the slow mile long freight trains rumbling through the town that I realised just how long you would have to wait were it not for the bridge. If you were in a car however, that was just tough luck. Anyway I found the pleasant little park and began to wander along the river. As I did so I noticed a number of signs suggesting that the path I was on was part of a longer trail. Remembering something about this from a tourist map I had seen earlier I decided to see where it would take me. Well this was possibly the most pointless trail imaginable as after a short walk along the river I ended up cutting across suburbia for as age until I reached the final sign which was behind a chain link fence and simply read ‘Trail Ends’. A little confused, I walked back.
Back in the hostel I was sat in the courtroom eating my lunch when an old American fellow walked up to me and started chatting away. It seems he had been in the Kamloops hostel most of the winter, although exactly what he was doing in Canada I never discovered. I got the impression he was living off his pension and just wandering around the country to wherever was quiet and cheap. Not so much a ‘New Age Traveler’ as an old age one. He talked away for quite a long time but before long a key theme to his preferred subjects emerged. He liked talking about everything that was wrong with the world – a bit of a worrier. We covered crime, terrorism, guns, immigration and his favorite subject of all incurable contagious diseases. He carried with his at all times (and produced with a flourish at this juncture) a bottle of 99% alcohol to wipe over anything he needed to touch. So whatever else he was doing in Canada at least he was keeping it clean.
The following day was again cloudless as I set off on the bus to the town of Revelstoke. The three hour journey flew by as I sat back and absorbed even more gorgeous scenery. Inevitably more forested mountains, rivers and lakes but enjoyable all the same. Arriving in Revelstoke I enquired about how best to get to the town centre (which again was miles away) and it was suggested I hitchhike as there was no bus. Oh well I though I am going to have to get used to walking with this backpack sometime, it may as well be now. If nothing else it served to show me just how out of practice I was. It was only about 2km to the hostel but I ended up walking further as the road sign for the road I wanted was missing so I wandered around the whole town before getting where I was going. By this time I was not only hot but my shoulders were killing me, fortunately my backpack carrying stamina improved massively in the days to come. As if all this exertion wasn’t enough I discovered that the booking I had made over the internet the day before was unknown to them so it was lucky they had space. I was to discover that this particular group of hostels (Samesun Hostels) were going to be a problem to deal with. The hostels themselves were fine and the admin systems also seemed fine, unfortunately there didn’t appear to be any communication between the two. In fact this hostel seemed to deny the existence of its umbrella organization altogether. I only mention this as I was to have more trouble with Samesun later on in the trip.
Revelstoke is a perfectly pleasant small town situated on the westernmost edge of the Rockies. Consequently the mountain scenery is even better than that of Kamloops. Having explored the town and found its Grizzly Bear sculptures (which it proudly claims are the largest in the world which is presumably because no one else has tried to beat it, they looked about life size to me). I decided to walk to the far side of town where the river was in the hope of getting a clearer photo of the snow capped peaks. Well it was yet another glorious day on which it would be criminal to be inside so I was pleased to discover once at the broad crystal clear river that a narrow track had been worn along its edge by previous feet. I followed along this track for hours and never saw a sole; you know I think I am starting to like this country. By the time I had returned to town the day had become positively hot and to think that before I came to Canada I had been led to believe it was a frozen wasteland. Well don’t believe it people, it simply isn’t true. I don’t doubt that the winters here are harsh but the rest of the time it varies from a bit grey and chilly to absolutely splendid.
To be fair to Revelstoke there was more here to see and do but the nearby Revelstoke National Park still contained a fair bit of compacted snow and ice around making the trails largely unwalkable. So the next morning I haul on my backpack to make the return journey to the bus terminal which thankfully wasn’t half as bad this time. My next port of call was slap bang in the middle of the Rockies and promised some even more excellent photo opportunities, I was headed for the tiny village of Lake Louise. You will have to wait a little while before learning what I found when I got there as I this issue is already quite long enough.
I hope all is well with each of you, out there in ‘Readerland’. Until the next time.
David.