Paid to Play in Paradise

Ode to Lyttelton

2010-04-27T02:35:00.000-07:00

Shackleton sailed out of Lyttelton harbour on the Nimrod expedition to the South Pole, and I sailed in on the number 27 bus from Christchurch, perhaps my mode was a touch less romantic and I doubt if Frank Wild and Ernest Joyce had two enthusiastically gossipping women wedged close behind them on deck. Despite being hemmed in by bulging woolworths bags, I was greatly enjoying listening to the Lyttelton ladies chatter, it has been years since I had been in New Zealand and I had missed the accent, its wonderful quirks always make me smile and often set me off giggling inappropriately in the midst of a conversation.

This short trip on the edge of Autumn was to see my sister and her beautiful family, it would be the first time that i would meet my gorgeous wee niece, she was already 18 months old and so far probably only thought I existed inside a skype screen, so this trip was long overdue.

Lyttelton is the most lovely little place, you pop out of the tunnel from Christchurch and enter a snug enclosure, surrounding hills on three sides and ocean on the other, it feels quite distinct from the city and has its own unique character, artistic, musical, vibrant, quirky and with more of the atmosphere of a real active community than any place I have travelled through since leaving Abriachan. Of course I may have the rose tinted glasses of a holiday visitor and a smitten auntie, but that's fine with me.

Everywhere seems to be uphill, and as we strode up and down from my sisters home we passed many other mums pushing their mountain buggy's up a gradient that must help create thighs of steel.

We visited friends, walked and explored Lyttelton, passing the great community garden, the gondola, the timeball station, the cheesy gift shops, the health food stores, the old overgrown quarry, the wonderful coffee company where everyone seems to congregate and chat over awesome coffee and killer cakes, the weekly fresh food market, the scatterings of small holdings - hens, pigs, goats, the playgrounds and primary schools where the bell rings and children seem to burst out of the seams, and always from every angle, a different wonderful view out over the port, Quail Island and across to Diamond Harbour. My friend Eilidh and I took the short trek up to the hilltop to overlook the town and whilst it is hardly Erebus, we definitely broke a sweat, passing on the way equally sweaty families and at the top finding cyclists, para gliders and gondolas full of people who had taken the less strenuous method, all of us there for the unbeatable views.The cranes, tankers and containers, have a strange beauty and are always moving and changing, clanging and banging. Then at night the golden lights of the port shine out over the angular equipment of the port and bounce back of the water, it it truly lovely.

Rather bizarrely, not only my sister, but my fabulous childhood next door neighbour Sally lives in Lyttelton which seems to be attracting a disproportionate amount of Scottish people, leading some people to suspect that there must be a marketing campaign in the highlands advertising the good life in a small port in the south island of New Zealand.

Skagway out of Season

2009-09-18T05:18:00.000-07:00

Bleary eyed we boarded the ferry in Haines and before we knew it we were hopping off again in Skagway, it is only 20 speedy miles by water, but a whole lot longer if you go by road. Now we are never in any real rush and the landscape along the roads is untouchable, but when finances get tight, sacrifices get made, sigh....... jeeez I have such a tough life, shall we sail by ferry through glaciers and majestic fjords, or shall we drive though the firey autumn mountains with moose and bear peeping out behind waterfalls, choices choices..

Skagway was not exactly buzzing, everything was closed for the season or in the process of closing. We had been surfing the 'end of season' wave all the way round Alaska, but it seems that luck had run out and there would be no more lovely quiet galleries and crazy money-off sales, now we were faced with empty window displays and silent solid doors.

Despite this , and the clear fact that this was a seriously touristy town, it has a nice atmosphere and a drenching of gold rush history. There was an old saloon, set up with well dressed maniquins lounging at the bar and shelves of old bottles and foods from the gold rush era. On the walls were stories of some of the most notible characters that lived and blagged and sold and stole and mined and died within and around Skagway. My favourite tale was of a man who would arrange for travellers to be robbed on the road and then when they staggered into town with nothing, befriend them and help them get back to their homes -generous fellow.

Leaving town after a good nosy around everything that was till open, we passed through some more gorgeous landscape, by now we dont expect anything less.

Eagles, Eagles Everywhere

2009-09-17T16:11:00.000-07:00

We travelled from Alaska to Alaska via Canada and drove down into Haines on high Eagle alert. We had been told amazing tales of how many of these majestic salmon gulping predators there were to be found on this stretch of river and although we were a few weeks too early for the yearly surge, we still hoped to spot a few.
We had been into many lovely art galleries around Alaska and in each there were beautiful framed photographs showing hundreds of eagles standing shoulder to shoulder on the river banks or perched layer upon layer in the high branches of boreal forest.
I had all my fingers and toes crossed that we might witness something similar.

Before we saw any eagles, we saw several rafts full of other eager eagle spotters who did not seem to be having much luck getting off the bank, never mind down the river, we had thought about doing a rafting tour ourselves, but after watching several small rafts full of large Americans going nowhere fast, we decided against it and continued our self guided tour into Haines.

This wee town is one of the stop off points for the numerous cruise boats that plough up and down the coast of Alaska, passing alongside the stunning glacial landscape and offloading thousands of eager tourists into the coastal towns which are well set up to take as much of their money as possible in a as short a time as possible. Gift shops, galleries and 'authentic' Alaskan crafts abound, and whilst yes, there are some undoubtedly tacky items on sale, I found that on the whole there were some really lovely items to be had, though nearly always too expensive or weighty for me to buy.

The Tlingit native art often depicts animal spirits such as eagles, killer whale, ravens and bears all with their different abilities and forms of intelligence.
There were many that were incredible, intricate and spiritual, yet still beautifully simplistic and abstract.

We searched all over town for somewhere to stay that was vaguely within our budget, yet everywhere was crazy money, so despite the low temperatures and the fact that I was dropping fast into some nasty Alaskan flu, we set up camp again, and I was so glad we did.
A friendly local ranger at the Chilkoot Lake Campsite told us that we were setting up our tent on a well known Grizzly Bear trail through the woods down to the water, and if this news was not thrilling enough, he also directed us to the spot down the road where he almost guaranteed we would see bears at dusk.
A hurried setting up of the tent later and we dashed down the road with a banana and a camera so find.... we were not the only ones.
Sadly other tourists had been given the same tip-off we had and also parked in readiness for any bear action. For almost an hour, we played a fidgety parking game trying to snag the best viewing spots.
After dusk fell - we got wonderfully lucky, out of the gloom came the most lovely wee family of bears. Seeing them in the wild, it just makes your heart stop.

Santa's world of Christmas Kitch

2009-09-15T13:54:00.000-07:00

The lovely guy at the B&B in Fairbanks didn't feel much like making breakfast so instead he gave us a sizeable slab of smoked Alaskan Salmon and a bag of fresh blueberries - which made us very happy bunnies, I do love random wee things like that. It was extremely delicious, we splashed out on a tub of cream cheese and a box of crackers and then ate ourselves silly on Salmon, so nice to have a night without noodles.

Heading south from Fairbanks we were running in line with the famous alaskan oil pipeline, we stopped and gawped at it for a while at a point where it is accessable from the road and where there was a security guard sitting in his car monitering the comings and goings. I wonder if this is a cushy full time job or simply necessary at present due to the various attacks on the pipeline throughout the last year, although if I planned an assualt on the pipeline, going to the most public possible spot would seem a tad stupid.
We pulled into North Pole where it is christmas all year round. The lamp posts are shaped and painted to look like candy canes, the street names all have christmas themed names like snowman lane and mistletoe road, it is all very obviously tourist orientated and to me felt a little desperate. This did not stop us happily contributing to the local economy by stopping at the mecca of all things christmas kitch - 'Santa Claus House'. We spent over an hour wandering in this vast store which sells all conceivable items relating to a cosy consumer christmas. Most entertaining were the letters which papered the walls, written to Santa from all over the world and sent to 'The North Pole', they all end up here and the lovely local people have taken it upon themselves to reply to each one. The letters were hilarious, ranging from demanding shopping lists, to repentant children apologising for missdeeds and begging to still be included in santas list. There were letters from young sceptics who apologised for saying they did not believe in him and hoped that they would be forgiven and one that amused me greatly where a wee boy was dobbing in his brother who had said Santa was not real and was therefore not deserving of a visit - the ultimate sibling retribution.

Also making me giggle, a string of christmas lights in empty cartridge shells - only in America!

Destination Denali

2009-09-14T23:46:00.000-07:00

Denali is referred to as the jewel in the crown of Alaska's national parks. Not only does it have the tallest; and most beautiful; mountain in North America, but it also holds thousands of the many amazing animals that make Alaska so famous. Grizzly Bears, Moose, Wolves, Carabou, Mountain Goats, Pika, Marmots, Beaver, Lynx, Fox, Dall Sheep and a multitude of smaller more scurrying and scampering creatures.

We navigated the tourist information and set up our tiny wee WalMart tent once again in the campsite near the entrance, setting the alarm for some silly hour the next morning when we would catch the camp bus that runs deep into the park. Another rather too chilly night later, we plunged into the park.

Our first wildlife sighting was not especially impressive, Dall Sheep climbing high up on a cliff several kilometres from the road, which I could barely see even with the aid of squinting, but Brad assured me that those tiny blotchy white rocks had faces, so I ticked of Dall Sheep from my mental 'To See in Alaska' list, though it felt like cheating.

From then on we seemed to be stopping ever few minutes for some new sighting - A big male Moose, A herd of Carabou and then two beautiful chocolate coloured grizzlies grazing happily on grass and berries. We were hoping to see Mt Mckinley (Also know as 'Denali' or 'Bloody Hell Thats Big') in all its towering glory, but we knew that the odds were not good, only upon 20% of the year do the clouds part long enough for the mountain to be visible and today was definately not going to be one of those days, the clouds were hanging so low over the plains that we could hardly tell where the mountains were hiding.

That night we bedded down at the furthest campsite in the park, in which they had a shed set up for you to store your food so the bears did not get attracted to the scent of Chef Boyardee floating out from under the canvas.

We went on a wee hike up a nearby hill and munched on the bear berries that had managed to survive the poor growing conditions, and then, as we walked back into camp with stained fingers, miracle of miracles the clouds parted and there towering in front of us, so much higher than we were expecting - The Big Kahuna..... Mt McKinley.

Zooming north from Denali, the signs of end of season were everywhere, 70% off sales in the tacky tourist shops, 'Closed for season signs' springing up outside Motels and the colours of the trees becoming if possible, an even more vibrant yellow, glowing in the sunlight and enhancing the rugged beauty of the mountains. Every kilometre, we fell more in love with Alaska.

In the northern city of Fairbanks we were upon the 64 degrees latitude, only 2 degrees from the Arctic Circle, tantilisingly close, yet still several hundered dollars of fuel away and sadly it was not money we had to spare. So at 64.82N 147.87W we turned back south - who knows how long before I am so far North again, I am hoping for soon.

Free-Falling Over Volcanos

2009-09-11T20:22:00.000-07:00

At least twice a week I dream of having wings. So when I threw myself out of a plane at ten thousand feet, the sensation already seemed rather familiar. Having someone strapped to my back was never part of the plan, but apparently the rules are rather inflexible when it comes to letting untrained Scottish lassies go solo on their first jump.

We were jumping with Alaska Skysports over Wasilla, a wee town in southern Alaska, recently made more widely well-known through the presence of Alaska’s most famous Governor – Sarah Palin.
Having just headed north from the gorgeous Kenai Peninsula and our adventures with bears, I had wanted to organize our jump to coincide with Brad’s birthday, but time and unsuitable flying weather worked against us. We ended up spending an extra day in Seward where we joined a lovely French couple at Millers Landing and kayaked a few hours down the coast watching Bald Eagles perched high in the boreal forest, dying salmon waiting for their imminent end in the slow inlet streams, and the cute hardy sea otters, floating on their backs and observing us with big curious eyes. The scenery was as always – fantastic. Glaciers, mountains, low atmospheric clouds and rather incongruously a maximum security jail on the far shore, about which our kayak guide regaled us with amusing bungled escape stories.

We spent Brad’s birthday itself in Anchorage, which I had always wrongly presumed to be the capital of Alaska. It was a lovely relief to be in a warm room with a hot shower and a laundry where we could wash the huge pile of muddy hiking/camping clothes which had already been worn more times than was really sanitary and included a number of socks that probably contained enough flora and fauna to start their own wee ecosystem.
That morning we had climbed the beautiful Exit Glacier trail in less than pleasant conditions, however, half way up during a break in the rain we found a black bear browsing his way across the scree slope and from a respectful vantage point we watched him, photographed him and fell a little more in love with bears. It was over a day later when we took to the skies over some lightly steaming volcanoes, but my thigh muscles were still complaining about the rapid decent down the side of the glacier, I am always a bit like a cart horse, solid plodding on the outward journey and then a mad homeward rush when I think I can smell the stables.

The plane circled round, gaining greater altitude on each loop until the critical height when I was maneuvered into the correct stance, clipped firmly onto my tandem master, signaled to step rather awkwardly out of the plane onto the ledge and then jump. I really like the falling part, the rushing wind, your flapping cheeks, the rapidly approaching ground, the bizarre reality of what you are doing – all very cool! The sudden deceleration with multiple straps digging into your crotch and stomach as the parachute flowers above you – not quite so comfortable. Then the final gentle descent, controlling the chute and spinning in tight smiling circles above the now clearly distinguishable trees and fields and the bright yellow spot of Brad in his jumpsuit filming my fall from far below. Then soon, too soon we were back on the ground.

A Bevy of Bears

2009-09-09T22:47:00.000-07:00

The first company we called had no space left on their tour, so they transferred us to some of their friends who ran another company, although we didn’t know it at the time, this was the most wonderful stroke of luck and led to a day that was magical in every way.
To see grizzly bears was a huge part of our trip to Alaska, and though the $600 price tag was a world away from what we would normally consider spending on anything, to see wild brown bears in their natural surroundings, willing to approach and spend time with us seemed to be worth any amount.

Chris and Ken at Emerald Air are kind, hugely knowledgeable and deeply passionate about the bears - we were all on the same wavelength of respect and protection for these outstanding creatures and throughout the day they emphasized how misrepresented brown bears have become and how with respect on both sides they could happily live in harmony with humans.

We were briefed at the jetty in how to act around the bears, what to do in an unlikely confrontation situation and how to make sure that everything we did was not going to alter the regular behaviour of the bears who at this time of the season were feasting on the remaining salmon and the carcasses of those who had already spawned and died. Then we all donned a sexy thigh high set of boots, grabbed our backpacks and were stowed on board the float plane.
We were taking off from Homer at the base of the Kenai peninsula, and flying 123 miles to an area of the Katmai National Park, very close to the famous McNeil River, about which we had heard amazing bear viewing stories. In many respects the area into which we were going was even better, as recent heavy rains had pushed many of the salmon and therefore the bears, into the lower reaches of the river systems, exactly where we planned to be.

The flight there was quite breathtaking, passing though the Ring of Fire - a series of five volcanoes that range down the kenai peninsula. It was a calm day and a plume of steam was rising from the top of the towering Redoubt Volcano. We passed over the volcanic island of Augustine, which erupted as recently as 2006 and which is responsible for the many Tsunami procedure signs that are found on the long Homer Spit which stretches out into the ocean and which seemed to me so marginally elevated above the waves that even a small storm might carry it away..
As we started our descent to a small sparkling lake I caught a glimpse of my first bear, running through the water after a salmon, that split second view from a few hundred feet up made my heart jump into my mouth with excitement. We waded ashore from the plane and made our way as a tight group up to the banks of the river. We were shown a ptarmigan, an arctic ground squirrel and an assortment of hardy vegetation that battles the tundra winds; and although this was all fascinating you could feel the tension in the group as we all listened politely but rather distractedly, thinking about the 800lb bears just over the rise.
And there they were, at our first glimpse of the water, A mother and her yearling cub, walking slowly down the gravel island, scanning the water for the flame red salmon and not even sparing a glance for the nine humans bunched up together on the slope, aiming a paraphernalia of camera equipment at them, from my wee point and shoot to James Hager's enormous lens and tripod (He was recently voted one of America’s top ten wildlife photographers and just happened to be with us on this tour) We sat down on the tundra and watched speechless as another mother and cub sauntered round the bend of the river, and then not fifteen feet from us, the bushes shook vigorously and a huge splash burst from the river - a large male had been biding his time in the undergrowth, waiting for the perfect salmon and we had not seen a thing - just awesome.

There would not be enough adjectives and clichés to get through the whole day of emotions, needless to say, it was everything and so much more than I could have imagined, we saw at least 20 bears, all colours and sizes, some at a distance, some walking by us close enough to see the fish gills on their lips.
For me, the highlight was a mother with three spring cubs who we watched learning how to catch their own fish and being extremely proud when they did so. The fish they brought exultantly to the surface were probably already dead, but they would beat them around a little anyway, just to show who was boss. Two of the cubs were larger and spent most of their time in the water, while the third was a wee dark one who seemed to actively dislike the water and did all she could to avoid getting wet. This was possibly the reason that she wasn’t as well fed, as Chris told us that the Mum will not just hand over fish to her cubs, but will make them take it from her, so they learn the necessary aggression and commitment they will need when they are left to fend for themselves.
Also with us on the trip was Tom Griffin a ranger from The McNeil Reserve, he spend around 100 days a year with the bears, but this was his first spring cub viewing of the year, so we were remarkably lucky to see them - and on a perfect sunny, wind free day (Brad still has a rather amusing sunburn line across his forehead from the very un-wintry weather)

We were comparing notes on bears from our experiences in Churchill and Tom and Chris helped put paid to the information that had been told to us as solid fact, relating to the reason that large males sometimes eat young cubs in order to put the mother back into heat. As they pointed out, this theory holds very little water as the estrogen period is in itself very short and a mother who lost her cub would take up to ten days to stop lactating and then another similar period before she came back into estrogen, by which point the cycle would almost be over, and the male bear responsible for the infanticide would be long gone and would have no chance to mate even if she was able. It highlighted how much of what we believe to be true is often just guesswork being laid out at truth or rumour passed on as fact - wikipedia syndrome to give it its official title.

With food in abundance, the normal rules of bear on bear engagement are all suspended. In much the same way as we ignore all those around us on the high street, the bears walked on by each other at a respectful distance with no aggressive or defensive behaviour coming into play. However, the hierarchy amongst those we saw was still evident when two young bears, perhaps three years old came around a corner and almost bumped into the mother with three cubs. We watched with amusement as the first young bear bolted back in a panic and then climbed the bank to sit with his friend peering timidly over the edge until the mother had passed on by.

It was a perfect day - the weather, the location, the autumn colours, the people we were with, the vegemite sandwiches and of course the glorious, beautiful, breathtaking, majestic bears. I hope when you go, you get such a day.

Off On An Alaskan Adventure

2009-09-05T18:48:00.000-07:00

As the season finished at Lazy Bear in Churchill, we packed up all our well worn clothes and assorted compulsary selection of Beluga memorabilia and jumped into our trusty Plymouth Voyager and hit the open road once more.

We have both always been drawn by the allure of Alaska, the wide open skys, towering glaciers and prolific wildlife is displayed tantalisingly on documentaries every year. It seemed a perfect time to see it for ourselves, I mean being so close and all - only 5 provinces and at least 4000km to the border. We needed to get there fast as well, the salmon spawn in the rivers throughout August and begin to slow down substantially at the start of September. The grizzly bears that the slamon attract will also start to leave the rivers where they can be most easily viewed catching and eating the fish. We desperately want to see the beautiful wild grizzilies in their natural habitat so Brad put the pedal to the metal and we scorched off across Manitoba.

I love watching the landscape changing around us, the huge golden plains of the prairies giving way to rolling hills and farms in Saskatoon and Alberta, more and more trees springing up through BC until we were whizzing through atmospheric miles and miles of Boreal forest. Ordinarily we would have been travelling slowly jumping out at every opportunity to climb hills and track down moose, meander through museums and soak up the culture, but we were on a time schedule, so we stayed strapped in and went on by each tempting detour. Apart from the odd crazy giant beaver or giant easter egg.

Breaking through into the Yukon was fabulous, having grown up on Robert Services poetry and the gritty unforgiving country and people his rhythms envoked. I had always been absorbed by the tales of the goldrush, the things men were willing to do to get hold of coloured dust - how fast they then spent the money they had risked their lives to obtain. A crazy world of money, women, gambling and hardship.

From Whitehorse this world came to life - seeing the S.S Klondike, the steam ship that ferried the thousands of gold hungry prospectors up the river to Dawson City, along with the supplies to sustain them and the making of the boom town that sprang up around them. They have renovated the paddle-steamer and it now sits high and dry next to the river with a flow of tourists rather than miners walking the gangplank.

Dawson City itself is a quirky little place - I liked it a lot, it has retained enough of the genuine buildings, leaning over from the pushy effects of the permafrost to compensate for the slightly less genuine 'Olde Writing' and simulated fronted buildings. The season was tailing off so we were lucky to be there without what I imagine are usually hoards of happy tourists , soaking up the atmosphere, panning for gold and generally having a grande olde time. We merrily joined in and went along to what is billed as the yukon's number one attratction - 'Diamond Toothed Gerties Casino', where you are encouraged to part with all your money as you watch some remarkbly limber dancers shake their ruffled skirts and flash their garters - all rather jolly fun. We left only $3 short from the sneeky money eating machines, but when $3 is a big chunk of our daily food budget, I still resented it, I really am very Scottish.

Another money saving ploy was to camp our way North, only resorting to a cheap motel when we began to smell really bad. This plan had relied; rather optimistically I admit; on the nights being above zero, so we did not become sleeping bag popsicles. The Yukon was not playing fair and our hours of sleep were decreasing every night as we shook and shivered under our three blankets, sleeping bags and new zealand polypros. Ahh well, no one said that budget travel was going to be easy.

Trains, Planes and Underwater Cameras

2009-08-26T21:31:00.000-07:00

We have just left fabulous Churchill for the second time, though this time by the speedy flight in a cosy wee Calm Air plane to Winnipeg instead of the previous epic two day train treck, which chugs peacefully along what is reputed to be Canada's worst stretch of railway. Via Rail seems to be on a mission to make people mad this year and we were caught in the anger crossfire on several occasions through beluga season.
In July the via union went on strike and all the passengers who were due to leave and arrive in Churchill that week were held in frustrating limbo. It could not have been a worse week to choose, we were completely fogged in, no flights were going in or out, and worse we could not run any tours as it was too dangerous to go out on the water in such bad visabliity and too dangerous to go out on land as there were so many polar bears who could not be located in the fog. The lodge was full of impatient, agitated guests, some of whom seemed to blame us for natures unpredictability and who would ask us at ten minute intervals when we were planning to get the fog to lift, Layne and I set an unshakable smile on our faces, handed out more hot chocolate and cinnamon buns, and encouraged everyone to play scrabble, relax and go with the quirky Churchill flow. Eventually the fog broke, the strike broke and we all breathed a huge sigh of relief as the guests evacuated the lodge out into the world of whales and bears.
A week later when things were more or less back to normal we got the first call of what was to become a steady increasingly panicked flow, without letting any northern Manitoban businesses know, or sending out an advance warning of schedule changes, Via have decided not to continue there Churchill - Winnipeg route. Now you can imagine how far in advance people book for Bear season, how co-ordinated arrivals, accomodation and tours need to be. And now panic panic panic, no trains, changes in arrival days, schedules turned on their heads, Churchill business's more than a little hopping mad - A time when I was glad not to work reception and I could hide out in housekeeping until the inevitable salvage operation began - I cant imagine how much flack the via rep. in Churchill must have got over those few weeks, poor lady. But if you are planning on coming to Churchill this fall (And you really must) dont worry - things are right on track, you now have to take a bus / drive yourself to Thompson and then jump on the train to Churchill - its worth the effort, you'll love it.

In our final days in Churchill, Layne and I grabbed some time off and jumped in some kayaks to go out again to play with the whales. It was an amazing day, the water was calm, the bugs were not to crazy and the whales were just incredible. They were in a bullying, cheeky mood, ganging up on us to lift the kayaks up almost out of the water, cruising with us in front and behind, bobbing up right next to us and being almost agressively interested in every move we made. I had my great wee underwater camera with me and got footage that made me bubble with excitement it was so great, a young beluga even came up and bumped the lens in curiousity when i was holding the camera under the surface. We smiled till our cheeks hurt and I filmed and filmed and filmed. I handed the camera to Layne to take a few shots of me and the whales, before the battery finally died. As she strapped the camera to her wrist and then grabbed her paddle to turn herself around I heard a gasp and a silence that stopped my heart. She turned to me with huge devestated eyes and held up her arm to stow me a folorn strap dangling loosly with a broken clip and no camera to be seen.
The first moment was rather gutting, I hoped she was joking, but another look at her face and I could see she wasn't and then the camera and its contents did not matter in the slightest. Nothing is ever worth a great friend looking that upset, I couldnt bear that she looked like she might cry - it was an accident that could have happened to me at any point - as it was quite possibly the worst camera strap ever designed by an total idiot. Still - I couldn't help staring at the waves, as if the bright green rectangle, might just float up to the surface or rice up on the back of a whale - but sadly no, the water looked right back, mocking me with its depth and lack of clarity. So if you happen to be in the Churchill River and happen to find a wee green camera washed up at low tide, with some killer photos on the memory stick, please drop me a line, I'll happily send out a reward. And Layne, it okay really :o)

Being hustled in a kayak

2009-08-17T11:14:00.000-07:00

We went out in the sea kayaks today onto a calm river and within minutes they found us, a whole pod of rolling, snorting, gliding, spraying, bubbling belugas, mostly older and pure white, but riding high of the back of some mothers were dark, glistening babies.
As they come closer to us they slide under the waves and all you see is the white shadow moving closer as your heart rises into your mouth and suddenly one will burst up right next to the kayak, spray you with water from their blowhole and dive in a swirl of foam.
They are so amazingly curious , following in your wake, bumping the rudder, and blowing out flurries of bubbles quite deliberately right under your kayak. They seemed to love playing with us and three started to work in unison bashing into the bottom of my kayak, lifting one side so high that I thought I was going to tip out, but managed to right myself, giggling and squealing with delight.
We had working out that if you placed your paddle into the water and gentle rotated it from side to side they would come right up to investigate and gentle open their mouths around it, exploring with their mouth. Then slowly you raise up your paddle and their head would rise out of the water with the paddle until there they are right there, inches from the boat, tipping their head and looking at you with their deep mellow eyes. Each time I would reach out my hand and try to caress their heads, and each time they were just out of reach, so I improved my paddle fishing technique until one rose touching the boat and stayed up, I stroked her soft squashy head and she didn't seem to mind at all, actually bobbing down a little, then back up to bump my hand. Then to my delight she opened her mouth wide and moved forward to touch my hand with her tongue. I almost retracted my hand through instinct, putting your fingers into the mouth of a wild animal doesn't seem very wise, but I couldn't bear to move and break the spell and so my fingers touched against her wet grainy tongue. It was a long time before I remembered to breath, and a lot longer before the insane smile faded.
You must come here and do this, you just have to!!

I'm going to calm down and stop waxing lyrical now before I annoy myself, and go and eat some noodles X

Swimming With Belugas

2009-08-15T21:49:00.000-07:00

Today, I stepped off the side of a small aluminium boat into the sunlit waves of Hudson Bay. I felt the dry suit tighten around me like shrink wrap as I hit the freezing waters and then I placed my face under the waves and saw a whale swim up to greet me. She was swimming on her back, her beautiful strange body gliding through the murky water perhaps fifteen feet away from my feet, her curious eyes and half smile twinkling up at me, pure magic, pure happiness, a moment when my life could not be more perfect than to be right here, right now.

Twisting and Laughing at the end of my tow rope, smiling so much I broke the seal on the snorkel and spluttered on the numbing seawater, for over a hour I swam with these incredible whales, each new pod coming by to check us out. First a white shadow out of the corner of my eye, then a distinguishable tail or a glimpse of a flipper before a face would shimmer closer and take my breath away. I felt an honest sense of eye contact and acknowledgement, crazy and wonderful.

If only the water was a tad warmer, I would have stayed there forever, but when my body started uncontrollable shaking I reluctantly made my way back to the boat, where Wally grabbed the back of my suit and unceremoniously pulled me over the side where i flopped in like a seal.

We had the best clarity of a tough season when heavy rains had stirred up excessive silt in the water and many tourists had left sadly disappointed unable to even see their hands in the water, never mind the whales circling below, we hit lucky with the weather, the whales, the water, and icing on the cake - It was all free, part of the thanks for working hard for the whole season at Lazy Bear.

Life is bloody awesome!

Mounting Robson

2008-10-02T01:55:00.000-07:00

There are a plethora of choices of outdoor activities throughout the Rockies, whitewater rafting, canyoning, horse riding, mountain biking, helicopter flights, gondolas, kayaking, but that which dominates them all and that which best fitted our meagre budget is hiking. We chose the trail that is acclaimed as one of the most, if not ‘the most’ beautiful and popular in the parks area – The Berg Lake / Mt Robson trail. This is a 42 km round trip, beginning on a heavily used trail in the thick woodlands leading to tranquil and luminous Lake Kinney, you then cross a wide open river bed, before ascending through pine forests to the 11km marker where Whitehorn campground sits next to a fun rope bridge where you can sway over the river and look up to the steep slope ahead.
This rapid ascent takes you and your protesting thighs past three stunning sets of waterfalls, with the final display at Emperor falls being the ultimate reward for the climb. A thundering spectacular wall of water making you feel fabulously insignificant under its roar.

Then the landscape changes again, out of the trees and across a scree slope where we could see and hear the pikas chirruping to us as we passed by. There are marmots here too, but we were not fortunate enough to see any this time.

After the scree, is a wide open expanse dotted with cairns, scrubby plants, and a network of small streams twisting, connecting and separating again and again.

There were wisps of mist twining around the pines and higher up a cloak of cloud was shrouding the top of Mt Robson ( the highest mountain in the Rockies at 3954m) from view. We had not passed any other hikers since Lake Kinney and to have this whole place to ourselves as we turned the corner to see both glaciers gliding down to meet us, was just perfect.
The aptly named Misty glacier hangs back in the valley a little, while the pristine ice of Berg Glacier flows down into the lake and as it breaks off into the water, it creates hundreds of icebergs, which drift and change into the the most fantastic shapes as they melt and rotate in the sparkling water.It was a welcome relief to set up camp and cook up some hot food in the snug wooden cabin kindly provided by the park department.
Whilst I was doing domestic goddess preparations like wielding a can-opener, the boys had a sighting of a lynx, it simply sat and stared at them from its big intelligent eyes, unfazed by their presence until it heard a loon calling and vanished into the thicket. I am still green with envy that I missed a rare chance to see such a beautiful animal - bugger bugger bugger

That night was cold – damn cold! We had on all our clothes and our thermal sleeping bags and still shivered all night. On the upside – being awake for such extended periods gave us plenty of time to listen to the multitude of creatures, thumping, scuttling and padding past our tent.
When the bear came it didn’t bother us at all, listening to his heavy snuffly breathing inches away, was thrilling, but not scary, and even when I felt a pressure of something pressing gently against my head, I just tingled with excitement.

In addition to the animal noise, there was the constant cracking and groaning of the ice, it is an incredible sound when huge chunks of the glacier would split away and thunder into water, causing waves to splash up against the shore.

We made the trip back down in around 4 hours, striding out the last 10 km with the thought of a hot shower in mind, passing a very sweaty school party on their way up the incline, as we cheerily strode on by.
We made it back all in one piece with our cameras crammed with beautiful shots and not one blister between us. As pub ideas go, this was one of the more successful.

The Worlds Most Beautiful Road

2008-09-23T01:24:00.000-07:00

A German, a Scot and an Australian walked into a bar… and over a bowl of 25cent chicken wings and a jug of Kokanee Beer, decided to take a scenic adventure, up what has been dubbed ‘The worlds more beautiful road’!

The Icefield Pathway stretches from the tourist mecca of Lake Louise in the south, 230km northward through two national parks to Jasper. The route is one of undeniable beauty. Simply imagine every postcard image you have ever seen of Canada, they are all here in stunning reality. The towering craggy peaks, the lakes of supernatural blue, the patchwork forests and the powerful waterfalls, it is truly breathtaking everywhere you look.

We had chosen to travel in the first few weeks of fall, and the initial glowing embers of the aspens, were now being fanned into flickering flames that sprang up the valleys. The warm colours of the trees contrasting with the sharply defined peaks, covered in their early dusting of snow. It is a landscape to bring out the poet and the artist in anyone, though I fear I am more McGonagall than Keats.

Lake Louise is a stopping point for every tour bus passing through the Rockies, and is therefore a constant circus. This is entertaining in itself, but rather distracting from the beauty of the lake, sadly already heavily marred by the monstrosity of a Chateau that squats by the shore. To have a chance of a bit of serenity you would be advised to arrive very early, whilst everyone else is imbibing coffee and pancakes.
A few kilometers away, and of equal, if not greater beauty is Moraine lake, where ten peaks stand strikingly over the glacial lake as if arranged specifically for the photographers lens.

Our plan was to camp out, and we intended to stock up in Lake Louise, a painful look around at the prices quickly changed our minds, nothing is cheap in this town!

The whole route is peppered with passing places and viewpoints and it is tempting to stop at every one. Each day bringing new colours, weather and atmosphere to the mountains, and when driving in the opposite direction, each vista seems so different from the new angle that you have to stop and gape over and over again.
Our stroll at Lake Peyto brought us to the view described in the current lonely planet as “More photographed than Paris Hilton”. This may be true, but it is with great justification. This was one of my favourite views of the trip, looking down from Bow Summit to the lake below, the lower forested slopes of a mountain framing the water shaped like a three-toed claw, which positvely glows with an intense, seemingly unnatural blue. The colour is caused by the very fine rock flour that is released as the glacier melts and which suspended in the lake, absorbs most of the spectrum and scatters the blue-green colours. The result is magical.
Travelling further north, we had our first wildlife sighting of the day. A moose was grazing down in a marshy plain below the road level, and whilst it was extremely tempting to pull over and whip out our cameras, we stoically followed the sensible wishes of the wardens and drove on. Traffic jams are frequently caused when wildlife is spotted and damage is often caused to both parties.
There are many fabulous creatures that live along the parkway, the most famous being those such as coyotes, wolves, moose, elk, mountain goats, big horn sheep and of course bears, both black and grizzly. There are no guarantees, but standard advise is that sunrise and sunset are your best chances are of catching a glimpse. Half-way to Jasper, we came to the Columbia Icefield, or more specifically the Athabasca Glacier , this glacier flows down the side of Mount Andromeda, dominating the area, despite its sad and rapid retreat. It seems rather strange to me that with this continuing deteriation in the size of the glacier, that buses would be allowed to drive out onto the ice.

We wished to take the guided 6 hour hike up onto the glacier, but the price made our eyes water, so had to content ourselves with standing behind the barriers and staring into the icy wind at the ever changing features of the ice. Only last year, you were permitted to touch and walk upon the glacier, but with the danger of crevasses they ended this practice.

Before arriving at the Icefield from the south, you can stop at Parker Ridge and make the short steep walk up to view the Saskatchewan glacier from above. We chose a very windy time to make the hike and with snow blasting into our numb faces it was hard to see much, then suddenly the wind dropped and the view of the tongue of ice, gliding down the valley in the solitude of the mountains, was well worth the climb.

Pushing on to Jasper we stopped at two gorgeous waterfalls. The first, Sunwapta Falls cut deep into a vertical gorge, viewing from high above, whilst at Athabasca Falls a network of paths and bridges criss-cross over the rushing water and lead you down the old route of the river, where you can see the entrancing patterns of the water carved into the rock.

Jasper itself is charming. Inevitably touristy, yet still warm and unique, dotted with many local art and craft shops, and with a wide choice of local restaurants making a welcome change from the fast-food chains. Though for us there was no such luxuries, we picked up some food to heat on our reliable wee stove and booked into the Whistler campground for the night.

To be woken

Magic In The Mountains

2008-08-01T03:32:00.000-07:00

My accent confuses people Clearly I am not American from the controversial way I pronounce ‘Tomato’, but the white blonde hair and slight roll on the rrr’s do not give much in the way of pointers. This abliguity is something I have grown used to, and which I enjoy, the quizzical “Where ARE you from?” being as much part of mylife as the rucsac on my back and the gorgeous Australian by my side.

We had set our sights on working in Canada many years ago, however detours such as family weddings in Drumnadrochit, friends weddings Down-Under, dental surgery in Budapest and general flitting around Europe at prices that cost us more in Global-Warming guilt than they did in Euros, all meant that it was not until July this year that we finally touched down in Vancouver!

The imposed weight limits of airlines means that we travel with less than 20kg of books, clothes, tents, games, toiletries etc. at any time, and this really does include most of what I own in the world. Back in my long-suffering parents house are the dresses and jackets that are too delicate, or heavy, or ridiculous to carry around the world, and the boxes of memorabelia that I send home in the form of ticket-stubs and photographs, t-shirts from events and small gifts from the fabulous and eclectic people we meet along the way.

It has been eight years since I finished university and began my travels and four since I met my fabulous and (thank goodness) like-minded partner. We move from country to country, working in the most beautiful places. Where everyone else goes on vacation, we go to work, and I love it.
I love working with the locals, finding out insider information on the area, getting to know where the best parties are going on and all the while topping up the bank-account to fund the next leg of the journey.

Many of our friends are seasonal workers, sliding from snow to surf and back again, year on year. We too have done our fair share of ski-season work and beach lifestyle, however I love doing a range of employment, it keeps me on my toes and always learning something new.
Between us we have washed boats in Darwin, podium danced in Spain ( clothes firmly on at all times), worked for the council, managed a computing store, designed websites, planted trees, picked all manner of fruit and veg, taught outdoor sports, ran resturants, landscaped gardens, managed international accounts, and more recently turned out-of-shape people into less out-of-shape people in our role as personal trainers. And I must not forget, the job that can be relied on as the most readily available work in any place at any time, waitressing! The very mention of which sets my mum’s teeth on edge as she wonders again where it all went wrong.
And that is what I was doing now, yet in such beautiful surrounds and with such fun people that the jobs more tedeous aspects are overwhelmingly outweighed.

We are currently in the stunningly situated Kootenay Park Lodge, smack bang in the middle of Banff and Radium on Highway 93, where I have watched open-mouthed, insane driving, the likes of which I have not seen since Italy. The locals seem to regard it as normal to see someone overtaking a car that is already doing 120mph near a blind bend with approaching traffic from the opposite direction. Where are the police with speed guns? In one afternoon, and only fining the worst offenders, they would make enough to cover their annual wage and maybe, just maybe help reduce the road toll, animal and human alike!

Paul and his sprightly Dutch Mum Francis, have run Kootenay Lodge for over 15 years, ten gorgeous, snug cabins tucked back from the road in the forest, a visitor centre/general store and the resturant itself in the old lodge, built back in 1923 by the railway constructors.

The interior has the burnished glow and warmth that only old wood can create.
Some nights as the dusk settles round the lodge, the road quietens down and the firelight flickers, it would feel normal if a man were to tie his horse up to the porch and step in shaking the dust from his hat and calling for a beer. But then I am a silly romantic, what is far more liken to occur is for a brash couple to screech up in their SUV, demanding a king-sized room with TV and internet access, and not being in the slightest bit interested in words such as peace, tranquillity, conversation, reading, roaring fires and wildlife (unless it’s one of their top-five animals to see, and it can be arranged for it to appear on cue after they have had dinner and pose for them on a variety of pre-arraned asthetically pleasing backdrops).

Although, I am now being too unkind, such caracature couples are in the minority, and nearly all those I have had the pleasure to meet and wait-upon have been delightful, curtious, interesting and as charmed by Kootenay lodge as I am.

There are currently five staff finishing off the season at KPL, of which Brad and I are the only new blood. Brock & Nick, two hilarious young Canadians and Tobi, a most entertaining German, were all here for the 2007 season and have returned for a second year.
We all live on-site and alternate roles as the work dictates, cleaning the cabins, running the store and serving in the lodge. While our toilet does bear the less than subtle grafitti scars of previous employees and a there is a cute, but hyperactive mouse living in our wall, it is cosy, warm and has a million-dollar view.

Whenever there is a break between roles, I stretch out in the sun and sketch the wealth of wildlife, or if the weather is more inclemment, sit in the store and read, whilst being constantly entertained by the flow of visitors with their insessant demands for the washroom, strong coffee, and souveniers of the park.
Over and over are the same questions, frequently regarding the miles of burned trees through the Kootenay region, “Was it the pine-beetle?”,’Are the trees all diseased?”, “Did the fire burn down the lodge?”, “Why have the tree’s not grown back yet?”, the boys replies have become so slick it is rather like listening to a tape-recording, only altering between the aussie and the german accents.

On our weekly day off, rather like greyhound’s from a trap, we bolt for the mountains to make maximum use of our time.
Having ticked off the tourist hot-spots like the gorgeous Marble Canyon, we started to stretch our legs on some of the longer hikes, but with a scrumptious home-cooked meal waiting for us each night back at the lodge we never pushed far past the 30 km mark. Stanley Glacier brought us our first touch of Canadian snow and my first sighting of the oh-so endeering Hoary Marmots which popped up and down from between the boulders, Peering at us through furry whiskers. Having also seen a pair of wolves loping by, several young black bear feasting on berry’s and a beautiful; though sadly wounded; Moose, I feel we have been more fortunate than many in our animal sightings, I can only hope that in the next ten months we are lucky enough to stumble across wolverine, wild goats, lynx, buffalo, cougar……….. A girl can dream!

One fabulous animal, that is a near guaranteed personal sighting, is the polar bear, as from the beginning of October we shall be moving on to our next adventure in Churchill, Manitoba, where we shall be working at the famous Lazy Bear Lodge and hopefully spending every available sub-zero moment gazing at the Northern lights, ice fishing, husky dog racing and bear watching.

It is going to be entrancing, the road trip to Winnipeg, the epic train journey North.
Each person who hears where we are heading, seems to have a horror story they can hardly wait to tell us, involving mauling, death, madness, hypothermia and all the dangers of being too far away from a Dominos Pizza and Cable TV.

Having said that, I can only hope that there will be no local Churchill headlines

“Two stupid tourists eaten by bears, one Australian male and one blonde female, no-one is quite sure of her nationality!”

Get Up And Go!

2008-06-14T13:41:00.000-07:00

When I arrived for a year of adventure in Canada, I had not anticipated that I would be able to add 'Beluga Kayaking Guide' to my CV, but then again most jobs I fall into are a bit of a surprise and have often made my travels more fantastic than if I had simply been able to afford to travel without having to work.
For this reason, I have never resented having to work as I make my way around the world, on the contrary I love the variety of each new job as much as the excitement of discoving a new area of the world.

I have been travelling, solo, with a great friend and for the last five years with my gorgeous Australian boyfriend through several new countries each year, discovering the most amazing sites, wildlife, people, history, art, music, languages & cultures - its like living in National Geographic every day, and we manage to do this with no credit cards, no loans, no bailouts from lovely parents back home. There is no stress about where the money will come from for the next flight or the next hostel, as there is always a way to make money and there is always work available, it is simply how you look for it, what you are willing to do and how creative and proactive you are with your skills.

I hope this blog will help those who may be a little nervous about taking off on an adventure with little funds, or who have been led to believe that you have to save for years before you can start backpacking - all you need to do is get your visa, your flight and your backpack - then just go!!

I have been a receptionist, a rockclimbing instuctor, a ski area presenter, a promo chick, a bar prop, a restaurant manager, a website designer, a housesitter, a personal trainer, a lettuce picker, a boat cleaner and a hundred other jobs, some great, some tough, some miserable, some well paid, some crimnally paid, but all bringing me into contact with great people, hilarious times and wonderful places.
To work in the middle of the rocky mountains in Canada I was a waitress and housekeeper, tiring, uninspiring work at times, but when you can hike up a mountain on your break and see bears and wolves when you're done for the day - who minds what work you have to do when it can bring you such a fabulous place.

There are perks of so many jobs - in a ski field you often get a season pass and in the best ones, free rentals of all your gear. Hospitality work leads to free meals, and a bizarre mixture of freebees that get given out at balls, banquets and conferences and are often thrown away or given to staff afterwards. I worked for one great catering firm who always gave all the pre-paid wines and beers that had not been used to the staff to take home along with boxes of left over canapes - the other people in the hostel loved my job, I was like a walking party arriving home each night.

When you work for small companies, they quickly become your friends and we have been treated so often with great kindness and hospitality, we have been taken on amazing trips to see local highlights, gone skidooing across moonlit fields, been taken whale watching been invited to parties, festivals, socials, weddings and so many fantabulous times that we would never had been asked to as a tourist simply passing through.