Wonders and blunders

When King Bhumipol died just before we set off to Thailand, should we have seen this as a portent of things to come?  Though it had little effect on our trip in the event, this has been one of the most accident prone holidays ever. 

Starting of course with Ian’s terrible fall on my birthday, which meant changing our itinerary as he was in too much pain for a long flight (we will draw a discreet veil over the accident that led him to be washing underpants in the shower when he slipped), we were dogged by a series of near disasters, natural and man made.

In Hokitika, the worst rain anyone could remember, lasting 24 hours.  In Rarotonga, a near cyclone out of season; followed by an extreme lightning storm next day. Then there was the M7.8 earthquake in NZ that destroyed the railway we were about to take, leading to more route changes.

There was the car crash we saw and helped the driver, miraculously uninjured, if dazed.  We saw two further accidents on our NZ leg.  People seem to run off the road there very frequently due to lack of attention - and I nearly got us undesirably familiar with a 10m wide native kauri tree after a long day at Milford Sound.

Then I left my camera, including Ian’s birthday gift lens, in a restaurant, only realising when it was closed and we had to move on.  Our hotel kindly arranged to pick it up and courier it ahead to catch up with us. In Rarotonga I thought I'd locked the villa and lost the key (with dinner merrily boiling away on the gas) only to discover I'd put it in the door of the identical unit next door. I also managed to set the pan on fire on another occasion and nearly incinerated the whole tinder box villa, but got it out fast so no damage. As far as losing things go, we have lost 3 hats between us but nothing else of significance.

For a finale, I almost couldn't get the flight from NZ via Malaysia to Bangkok as the check in people insisted I needed a full blank page in my passport for the arrival stamp.  In the event when I arrived at KL this wasn't a problem.  And then when going to board the onward flight three planes were allocated to the same gate, with only one security X-ray machine, so that there was a vast maelstrom of passengers trying to queue in a big spiral, that inevitably dissolved into a frantic scrum as a second machine opened up.

Despite all this, we have had a fantastic time with many wonderful memories that will stay with us forever.  I think particularly of Mount Cook and Milford Sound; an afternoon at a winery high above the lake at Wanaka; the beach at Bang Sak; the villa and view at Koh Yao Noi; birds and plant life rich and strange; spectacular sunsets and dark, southern night skies; and the people in three particularly friendly countries, Thailand, NZ and the Cook Islands. Not to mention my witty and occasionally curmudgeonly Ian, the perfect travelling companion as we start our fortieth year of knowing each other.

Now we have a few quiet and, with luck, trouble free days, as we break our return journey in Thailand.  We'll never forget this trip, for the best and worst reasons. 

Rarotonga

Now this is strange.  We put our clocks one hour forward and one day back, on the short flight from Auckland, as we crossed the international dateline, leaving on Wednesday and arriving on Tuesday. 

The Cook Islands is an independent nation of just 60,000 or so people, but only about 15,000 live on the islands, the rest mostly in NZ, which looks after their foreign affairs and defence.  Most who remain live on the largest island, Rarotonga, where we were headed.  It is also the most mountainous, with jagged peaks of a collapsed volcano.  This erupted from the deep ocean floor and is 4000m high, but only 500m of this appears above sea level.  It is an oval with one road 32km long that you can circuit in well under an hour.  In fact there are two buses that do just that, one with the destination board showing ‘CLOCKWISE’, the other heading ‘ANTICLOCKWISE’. Offshore is an almost continuous reef that keeps the ocean swell at bay, creating a shallow vivid blue lagoon that has become a great attraction to visitors.  Almost the entire island is lined with villas and hotels, all very low key, with their toes in the white coral sand.

We rented a little wooden villa on the south side, intending just to pootle around: long walks on the beaches, paddling in the shallow waters, cooking up some local produce.  This worked out fine the first day, the weather at the end of the  dry season being perfect, with vast fluffy white clouds scudding (is it only clouds that scud?) across an azure sky, coconut trees gently swaying over silver strands and all we could expect of a Pacific isle.

However that little idyll didn't last long.  No-one had told El Niño that it was still the dry season. Next day got darker, greyer, then drizzle kicked in, then rain.  By nightfall it had turned into a raging cyclonic storm: it sounded like someone was playing a fire hose over the roof, and the whole little wooden building seemed suddenly vulnerable.  Though the wind dropped by morning, the rain continued, heavily, endlessly.  It was the kind of tropical rain at soaks you in seconds.  36 hours in and it was still raining.  We discovered later that 225mm had fallen, almost twice the monthly average and about what we get at home in 4 months. Just as it seemed to be all over there was an almighty thunder and lightning show on the second night, the worst in at least 5 years, apparently.

The last few days returned to tropical calm, and the water miraculously soaked away into the sand and coral limestone of the island, although for a while the lagoon looked like the inside of a teapot, filled with dead plant material washed down from the mountain by many streams.  Next day it had gone and all was clear and pristine blue again. We hired a car and toured the island, visiting the main town and Muri Beach, the best of them, with little palm topped islets off shore, like a cartoonist’s idea of a desert island, framing the view and the shallow sandy lagoon. Inland there is a lot of agriculture, tropical fruit and veg mostly and a few goats, and homes of the local people along sleepy lanes.

In the afternoons we lazed in the impeccable garden of the property.  The whole island is meticulously maintained, a matter of local pride, with manicured lawns and tropical plants, and the villa was no exception, thanks to Bev, the little Filipino lady who looked after it and visited occasionally.  We also had a constant round of other visitors: friendly local dogs, cats, mynah bird couples, hens and cocks grubbing around (the cocks here seem to have no sense of timing and doodle-do every 5 minutes) and on the day after the rain about a thousand dragon flies filled the garden. We also found that any food left out brought hordes of the tiniest ants I have ever seen, requiring great diligence. Frigate birds swooped overhead by day, and geckos nonchalantly wandered across the ceiling at night.

But soon it was time to turn our thoughts to the long trek home, back over the dateline, up through SE Asia, then home to winter and dark days.

New Zealand 7

Now we had a long journey ahead as we decided to spend some time in North Island to replace the train trip.  Back down the lake, as brilliantly coloured as ever, and then out across the increasingly conventional landscape of sheep and cattle farms until we reach the Christchurch plain for the short hop to Auckland.  The countryside is all divided up into huge squares, lined with neatly clipped tree-high windbreaks that made us think of the landscape of Through the Looking Glass.  One thing about NZ is that everyone seems to take immense pride in the place.  Every field boundary, every verge, every garden perfectly manicured and at this time of the year, fresh and bright with new flowers.  Given the size of the country this represents a huge effort for its small population.

A quick heads down at the airport hotel then off first thing to the Bay of Islands.  This is an area I visited 10 years ago and really loved, and Ian also found it very pleasant.  We were extremely lucky with the weather, which helped. We had found a great apartment facing the bay at Paihia, and took it very easy, visiting the Waitangi treaty grounds, crossing the bay to Russell on the little ferry, and doing a bit of home cooking for a change in the evenings.  The treaty grounds and the house of the first British Resident give a detailed idea of the early history.  The Māori actually invited Britain to provide protection.  Whether they regretted it later is not told.  They had heard what the French did to Tahiti, and saw the lawlessness of the trading and whaling port that later became Russell, the hellhole of the South Pacific as it was then known.  Now it's a sleepy tree shaded little village with a ferry pier and NZs oldest pub. The Resident seems to have been left to his own devices by the powers that be but peace generally reined.  The treaty seems to have been respected more than most and has been used as recently as the 1990s to confirm Māori rights such as the ligation to maintain and encourage the language.  

So back to Auckland and the next and most remote stage of our adventure.

New Zealand 6

The drive in to Aoraki gets more and more interesting: first through coastal farmland, with distant views of mountains way across the island in the clear NZ light; then up the Waitaki valley past several lakes.  After a break at Omarama, where bizarrely, there were 15 classic Triumph Stags lined up, some of which we had seen buzzing around earlier, we head up the 90km road to the mountain.  This passes amazingly vivid aquamarine Lake Pukaki, and with each twist the mountains ahead become more visible until a final bend opens up a huge panoramic view of the head of the valley, surrounded by snowy peaks, and the great white cone of Aoraki itself, towering over the rest.  As you approach you can make out the glaciers on its flanks, and across a desolate glacial plane, the Hermitage, our destination for the night.  The sunset and sunrise effects are stunning, and worth this whole trip just to see them.  Clouds swirl about in the valley and come pouring over the ridge from Westland.  We are only a few dozen km from Franz Josef here, but cut off by the Great Divide. The colours change minute by minute. 

New Zealand 5

Next, deep into Fiordland, to Te Anau, another little lakeside town, from where we struck out to Milford Sound.  Rain lashing down, valleys filled with cloud and mist, dramatic but foreboding. Also many Chinese tourists bussed in from Queenstown. But the Sound rises above it all, jaw dropping in scale, near vertical cliffs rising 700m, with full size rain forest trees clinging to them, rise straight out of the water.  The rain meant that hundreds of temporary waterfalls were active, adding to the spectacle. We joined a nature cruise and saw bottlenose dolphins, surfing the bow wave of a cruise ship, as well as seals and blue penguins.  This is one we will always remember. 

Another is Aoroki/Mount Cook, but more on that later.  FIrst we dropped in on Dunedin, where the city fathers in gold rush days had great plans to create the Edinburgh of the south.  While maybe not quite that, it has some very fine Victorian buildings and the same vibe as many boom towns of that era, like Calgary and Glasgow. There is an amazing confection of a station, from where the Taieri Gorge Railway sets out. This has to be one of the craziest places to build a track, along steep fragile cliffs of fragile schist, with dozens of tunnels, and bridges across raging torrents.  We decided to escape the rain and driving (and a small recompense for missing the long scenic coastal trip) by taking this 4 hour excursion and it was well worth it.  The river was fuller than any of the crew could remember and it was a good way to access remote countryside effortlessly.

New Zealand 4

A beautiful relaxing Sunday in Wanaka. This town sits around a bay at the end of its mountain ringed lake, which reflects the snow capped peaks and scudding clouds. The lake is fringed by huge poplars, planted by some far sighted city fathers maybe a hundred years ago, and a footpath that goes for miles, which we followed from our hotel into town, busy with local kids having their annual sports day, racing their bikes at enormous speed.  We didn't do much except take this all in, and then in the afternoon visit the local Rippon winery to sample their very fine pinot noirs (sample = knock back an entire bottle while admiring the view over the lake).  And so early to bed, until a strange sensation starts us as the beds started rocking from side to side.  A very uneasy, queasy sensation, and we realise it's an earthquake.  No panics outside so, thinking it was something minor, we went back to sleep, only to discover next day how serious this had been: a M7.8 quake.  We were over 400km south but still felt it strongly enough to get woken up. We have of course since seen pictures of the devastation caused.  We had been planning to travel by rail from Christchurch right through the affected area to Wellington and Auckland, but have had to rearrange this to fly direct. Nothing compared to the terrible effects on people locally of course, and we felt every sympathy to those who have lost their homes and loved ones.  The rail line and coast road are completely wiped out in many locations by land slides and many communities completely cut off, but NZ authorities are prepared for disaster.

New Zealand 3

After that doom laden first full day in NZ, the weather bucked up and produced another fine spring day for our next leg, to Franz Josef.  A lovely trip, this, down the coastal highway, with the mountains on our left and many scenic reserves to drop in on.  At Lake Mahinapua, the mists still lingered over mirror smooth water, reflecting the lines of forests and mountains rising beyond.  The local birds seemed completely unfazed by the few humans around. A couple of flightless weka angrily (or hornily?) chased each other almost past our feet, while a rare kōtuku, or white heron, played statues in the shallows, then suddenly pounced on a minnow. A blue/black tiu, with its white ruff, fed on nectar from the flax plants. And some more familiar introduced types - blackbirds and chaffinches - sidled up looking for handouts.  We visited a few more lakes and then returned to the coast at Okarito, a little settlement of holiday homes between a lagoon and a wide beach.  The cliffs here are covered almost to the water’s edge with an impenetrable temperate rainforest, very lush.  Big breakers lashed in from the Tasman Sea, everything seemed colourful, bright and fresh, a big contrast to the previous grey day. Finally to Franz Josef, right under the deep valley that holds the glacier.  We ate outside in a pub restaurant as the sun set, barely colouring in the clear air of this unpolluted island.

Next day it was back to grim, with a persistent drizzle shading into solid rain that lasted all day and into the night. Despite this we braved our way to the glacier itself, trekking through rainforest then suddenly out into the desolation at its foot.  Is there anywhere else in the world where sub tropical forest sits cheek by jowl with ice mountains?  We were soaked by the time we got back but thought it was well worth it.  Clouds swirled round the valley, dozens of waterfalls jettisoned their torrents into the black abyss, and the ice hung far above us, dirty blue, now just a remnant of what was there 100 years ago, having shrunk back several km to reveal the dark granite, ground smooth and pulverized to fill the valley all the way out to the sea. A magnificent desolation.  

We seem to be lucky with our big travel days, because the next day was mostly sunny, as we drove further south.  We stopped at Fox’s glacier, rather less forbidding under a blue sky.  Further south, there are farms in the flat valley bottoms between steep sided foothills, but much of the country was inaccessible until well into the 20th century, and feels very remote.  Occasionally the road comes to the coast, as at Ship Creek (I'm tempted to say we had a paddle!) where a magnificent beach is backed by NZ’s unique flora, providing an intriguingly alien treescape.  Soon after that the road detours through a narrow gorge, the Gates of Haast, over a pass and down into a region of big glacial lakes.  The mountains here are more rounded and have been long grazed by vast flocks of sheep, so that it feels a bit like Scotland.  The weather even supported this, as the clouds started to build and throw passing shadows across the hillsides and shimmering patches of sunlight across the water. Here there are huge farms, dairy and sheep, at this time of the year brimming with calves and lambs.  Lots of gorse and bracken.  Wordsworth would have loved it.  We drove along the shores of the lakes, eventually arriving at Wanaka where we had arranged our next stop. 

New Zealand 2

New Zealand 1

Another day, another very different beach.  We have reached Hokitika, in South Island’s Westland. Overnight, there was a huge storm - thunder, lightning, torrential rain, the full works - and now there's just grey crashing waves, grey sand and great piles of grey driftwood looming out of grey sea-fog. Then finally, just at sunset, the sun manages to push through, an angry red gash on the horizon.  It could be straight out of Peter Jackson’s apocalyptic vision as the dark forces amass for the final battle. It seems like a metaphor for the news we've just been following on the US election.  Makes for some great pics though!

We arrived here the night before after a mammoth journey from Khao Lak, to Christchurch, where we picked up a car, and across the Great Divide via Arthur’s Pass, in the bright sunshine of a brilliant spring day.  This was a spectacular trip, first through neatly clipped farmland, then up into the gorges of the pass, the plant life all in the first flush of renewal, bright colours and fresh flowers, on empty roads. This crossing gets more spectacular with each turn, especially where it descends steeply on the west.  Stopping in a car park at the top of the pass, we found kea, the green/brown bullies of the parrot world, hanging out for whatever the camper vans throw out.  

The landscape is unique, a rich intertwined carpet of rainforest draped over the bones of NZ’s volcanic past. So we reached Hokitika, 24 hours after we set off, and found a pleasant little town of wide streets and single storey buildings, and friendly people.

Thailand 3

 

I'm getting to know this beach and its wildlife.  And there's lots of it.  I've walked most of the 10km bay, its soft hard sand a good home for crabs.  There are sand coloured crabs that freeze, hoping their camouflage means you won't notice them; then at the last moment they scuttle away sideways to their hole at vast speed. By contrast there are the hermit crabs. Almost every spiral shell on the beach seems to be occupied by one of this tribe, from the smallest to the biggest. They lumber around clumsily and seemingly endlessly, engaged in some Sisyphean task, until someone approaches and then they shut up tight in their temporary home.  There are birds - cormorants out on the rocks; common mynahs grubbing about in loyal pairs, quietly calling to each other when they find something juicy.  There are brown pigeons softly cooing; the occasional sea eagle cruising just above the tree tops, always alert; and way above, a wheeling gang of swallows.  Everywhere there are butterflies, small yellow ones and huge black ones.  I saw a bird swoop down over the wave crests and take one of the bigger ones in its beak, then off again to its high perch as a broken wing came fluttering down. And the sounds: the beach is full of noises, sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.  At five minutes before sunset precisely, a thousand twangling buzzsaws appear to hum about our ears, then stop just as suddenly, five minutes after: a cricket chorus.  Then all through the night an antiphonal, atonal symphony of frogs, especially after a rain storm. We wake, and wish to dream again!

Ian is now largely recovered, the bruising fading. Tomorrow, after our extended stay, we move on to NZ and a very different experience.  But the memories will remain, and I'm sure we will be back to this perfect beach. 

  

Thailand 2

The rainy season decided to go out with a bang, with 2 days of on again off again heavy rain, but the final 2 days were largely sunny and warm, so maybe the dry season is with us.  Ian has made a slow recovery from his nasty fall.  The hotel’s nurse has made friendly visits each day and cheered him up. There are worse places to be laid up!  I've been able to make some walks around the local area and enjoy the hotel’s little beach.  We made the decision to stay longer in Thailand, as the 12 hour flight to NZ is not sensible in Ian’s condition. 

So we took the motor boat back to the mainland, waved off by the friendly hotel staff, and then picked up a car for the short drive to Khao Lak. We had planned to stay here for 5 days but have now extended to 11.  Our hotel is at Bang Sak beach, just to the north, a great sweep of a bay, almost empty of people, and little developed.  White sand backed by huge forest trees, emerald sea with the ocean breakers rolling in, and a vast sky filled with complex cloud patterns through which the sun bursts to fill the world with a golden glow.  

And of course the occasional ramshackle beach bar for a sunset cocktail and barbecued red snapper with fiery Thai sauces. Perfect place for recuperation...

Thailand

        It being my 65th birthday this month, Ian’s 60th in January, and also the start of the 40th year we have know each other, we have decided on a new mega trip, via Thailand to New Zealand and the Cook Islands. It's now 10 years since my big round the world tour that took in part of NZ* so it seems like a good time to further explore there.

        But first off we broke our journey in Thailand, and after flying to Phuket via Bangkok, we caught a motor boat to the little island of Koh Yao Noi.  This crossing gave us some early views of the thrilling limestone karst country of Phang Nga Bay, under a steel grey sky that marked the fag end of the rainy season.  The tender zipped around the coves and mangrove fringes to our hotel, its villas stacked on a densely wooded hill above a little sandy beach.  Just 56 villas are arranged here, with views to the islets of the bay, or in our case to the jungle.  

        The hotel has a kampung-chic vibe, all thatched houses, gamelan lounge music and coconut ‘wellness’ water.  I could do without the crystals and Tibetan prayer bowls, but it is really well done, and we immediately felt very comfortable.  We tried several of the restaurants on the first few evenings and had reserved a special meal at the Hilltop restaurant for my birthday.  This has perhaps the most famous view in Thailand, across the bay to the rusty white stack islands and grey mountains beyond.  Unfortunately, Ian fell badly in the shower during the day, gashing his arm, and getting badly bruised, so we ended up eating in the villa, but the staff came up trumps with a cake and champagne.  They are rightly proud of their food, much of it based on local produce.  Some they grow themselves, and a wide range of cuisines is tackled with aplomb. The breakfasts are spectacular. Our villa is huge, with a small pool and outdoor Lana style living area, and a bathroom that goes on for miles.

        Altogether, apart from Ian's fall, a great relaxing way to start the trip, just gentle walks on the beach or to nearby headlands. I had a ‘healing’ massage as a birthday treat and my ‘wellness’ is doing very well thank you, even if Ian's isn't!  With luck he will recover quickly for the next leg of our trip.  Some great people too, including Kuhn May, our always charming staff member who looked after us; the nurse who came and dressed Ian’s elbow every day, even on her day off, always with a big smile; the local people who always said sawatdee kah/krup as they passed in a genuinely friendly way; and some of the other guests, especially a retired Australian couple who seemed very much on our wavelength.  

*See http://k-e-i-t-h-m.blogspot.com/2007_03_01_archive.html

Ireland

Ian and I were on a tour of Ireland recently, crossing by try, via Gower in Wales, to Rosslare, and taking in Wexford, Cork, Kerry, Dingle and Connemara, then back via Dublin.  Here is a link to photos with some captions: https://flickr.com/photos/?07/sets/72157672632927841

Pacific NW 12 - Banff

     So we were now nearing the end of our marvellous trip.  Banff was a short drive from Lake Louise, and after all the wild open spaces it seemed a complete metropolis, with the tourist throngs filling all the streets.  We stayed well up the hill from the town, in the busy but comfortable Rimrock Resort.  Gail and I ventured up the cable car to the top of the peak above, where there is a network of boardwalks over a kilometre long, giving amazing views of the valleys and mountains all around.
     By the time we were ready to go down, the clouds were closing in until there was nothing to see at all, and the weather continued to deteriorate.
     We arranged a late dinner and were put into a private room, just the four of us, and worked our way through a tasting menu with wines for each course, served by a slightly eccentric crew of waiters, who seemed eager to talk and crack jokes.  A really fantastic way to end this trip, as we gazed out into the valley below, siwrling with clouds and now sleet flurries.
    Next day, we struggled through a near blizzard, back to Calgary and finally split up, Gail direct to London, Kathleen to California for more travel, and Ian and I to Seattle for our return flight.  We had an overnight there in what must be the best airport hotel anywhere, Cedarbook Lodge, with extensive gardens and even a little wood in the grounds, and a very decent restaurant.

    So what will we remember from this trip?  The wildest, remotest places: the rainforest and the deserted beaches of Oregon; bear country in the Rockies; snow drifts above the clouds and vast mountain ranges; swollen rivers and waterfalls.  Also, surprisingly good food, with an emphasis on local produce, from the grandest set dinners to the home-baked goods in coffee shops in remote towns; and great beer and wine from the local craft breweries and wineries.  Our favourite spots were Yachats and Revelstoke, and the remote wilderness of Alpine Meadows.  All in all, it seemed as if the best places were the least visited, and these are the places we would likely return to. 

Pacific NW 11 - Jasper and Lake Louise

    

     Now we started to turn east on our loop, over the mountains and back into Alberta, to Jasper National Park.  We were leaving behind the remoter corners of BC and getting more into mainstream tourism.  Jasper, the town, though small and picturesque, with a boulder strewn mountain stream, is a tourist haunt.
    We stayed in a very comfortable park lodge established in the 1920s.  Oddly, it has an excellent upscale restaurant, with some of the best food we had on the trip (and a vast wine list), but also a pub where the food was absolutely dire.
    Next day, with the weather turning distinctly moody, we travelled to Medicine Lake and Maligne Lake, nearby.  The first was surrounded with the blackened remains of pines - a forest fire had swept through here the year before - but even this did little to diminish the beauty of the mountains and lake.  Nearby we were able to see a bald eagle nesting, its white head peeking out above the massive nest at the extreme high pint of one of the less damaged trees.
     We walked around part of Maligne Lake, soon well away from other people, and sat to contemplate the mountains and the silence.
     We next followed the Icefields Parkway south, calling in at the Athabasca Falls, deeply incised canyons filled with massive torrents; then to the Columbia ice field, a rather heavily exploited tourist spot that was largely clouded (and crowded) out, spotting more eagles along the way, as well as a moose on a leisurely stroll across the road.
     Lake Louise itself has a few impressive buildings from the early 20th century, notably the station. 
We stayed in a rather odd Best Western with split level rooms that smelled strongly of bacon.  The famous old Fairmont hotel, well out of town on the shore of the lake, is a bit of a disappointment, full of Asian tour groups and expensive handbag outlets so that it feels like an airport departure lounge.  If you walk along the edge of the lake you can quickley get away from the crowds and enjoy the deep aquamarines of the lake and the encompassing mountains beyond.

Pacific NW 10 - Alpine meadows

     So with some reluctance we left behind the charms of Revelstoke, continuing along the Trans Canada Highway through deep forested valleys and beside deeper, darker lakes, the road always playing footsie with the railway. We made a few stops en route, enjoying ice creams under blistering mid day sun at the end of a lake jetty at Salmon Arm,  coming by late afternoon to Little Shuswap Lake. This is First Nations land and the Little Shuswap Lake Indian Band or Secwepemc have built a succesful business here - hotel, golf course and well regarded restaurant, with all benefits being polughed back for the benefit of the whole nation.  We walked along the shore of the lake and then enjoyed an excellent meal here, before travelling on next morning.
     A long drive, avoiding Kamloops, a large industrial town, and then we were up on quiet back roads, mostly just dirt, into Alpine country: high valleys, with forests coming down to hidden lakes, and the odd farm with a German name and a herd of dairy cattle.
     We stayed in a big three bedroomed lodge in a little resort called Alpine Meadows, just a cluster of swiss style log houses with steep roofs and stone fireplaces, by a perfectly still lake.  Lots of wild life to be seen, with fish leaping to ripple the surface, families of ducks and geese, woodpeckers and many others.  Later we found out a bear had tried to get into our lodge while we were away, and we saw several black bears in the vicinity.   
     The nearest town, at the entrance to Wells Gray Provincial Park, had a surprisingly well stocked supermarket and the obligatory liquor store, so we were well supplied for a couple of days of home cooking, making the most of this little idyll.  We rowed out on to the lake, rather gingerly, and enjoyed the sense of calm.  The blue hole was still with us.

Pacific NW 9: Revelstoke

 

Our favourite town on this leg turned out to be Revelstoke. The weather miraculously improved and we arrived there in brilliant afternoon sunshine. The Coast Hillcrest hotel was delightful – very welcoming with comfortable, spacious rooms. Their balconies had a magnificent view across to the jagged profile of the Monashee Mountains at sunset. The staff were very friendly, especially a waitress who had moved there a few years ago from suburban Toronto and loved it – even when the bears got into town and rooted up her vegetable garden. 

We went on several good walks in the area – along the river banks where the Illecillewaet meets our old friend the Columbia, with lots of wildlife to see on the way. It was here that we saw a group of crows in a state of agitation and then in a sudden explosion of motion and feathers, a golden eagle burst out of the tree just yards ahead, to be mobbed by the crows. It flew out over the river then around the trees on the opposite bank for several minutes, perhaps looking for a nest site. On another occasion Kathleen and I heard what sounded very like the howling of wolves from the distant shore. It's possible: wolves are nearby, in very low numbers, and through most of the province. 

We also walked into the Mount Revelstoke NP, which features the Meadows in the Sky parkway – also closed! But we were able to do a good circuit of woodland near the entrance, through moss laden trees and by fast moving mountain streams - a little remnant of rainforest away from the coast - managing to get a bit lost but somehow ending back where we started. 

Revelstoke seems like a real town, not dominated by tourism, and we found yet another fantastic and extremely popular coffee shop/bakery. The staff were efficient and there was a vast and scrmptious range of baked goods and dishes and coffees. We also saw the weekly farmers and craft market, a lively meeting place for locals, and bought a few things there (homemade jams and candles).

Pacific NW 8 - emerald lake

Next, to Golden, where I had booked a rather spooky ski resort hotel, way up on the mountain miles from the town. When we arrived, there were no staff there, just written instructions on how to find the rooms. Still, we were able to make some good meals as one of the units we were in had a full kitchen. Poor Gail was exiled to the other block which seemed to be completely empty otherwise, except for an occasionally seen odd jobs man (who seemed frindly enough). Golden doesn't have a lot to recommend it: a very small historic area beside the railway, and a rather wonderful, but modern, covered bridge. But we did at least find (another) very good cafe, with good coffee and cakes, which we visited several times. Long live these independent cafes – there always seems to be one in each town – and let's hope the dead hand of Starbucks never makes it to places like this. 
From Golden we entered Yoho National Park, where the jewel is Emerald Lake. A glorious place, with tree lined shores and completely surrounded by mountains. We walked all around the lake and after a short distance you get away from the tourist buzz at the lodge into complete tranquillity, the views from every angle magnificent. We also visited the pretty little town of Field, in the centre of the park. It seemed almost deserted, as we waited for the freight train to pass at a level crossing, several kilometres of double stacked containers, passing slowly by. 
You never seem to wait long before you hear the evocative sounds of an American train whistle or the clanging crossing bells. This is a feature it seems of every Rockies valley, parlt because in many cases the railways came before the settlements. Field seems to have been a watering stop for Rockies trains crossing between Calgary and the west, and some of the original houses were built out of box cars. One still survives there. (We later met the rather handsome Fire Chief for Field, at Calgary airport. The permanent population is about 200 and you have to have a reason to go and live there as it's heavily protected by the national park management. He seemed very content with his life there.)

From Golden we visited Glacier National Park, but the blue hole had deserted us, the mists coming in and hiding the mountains almost completely and trails were all closed. In fact, the visitor centre was still stacked up with big snowdrifts.

Pacific NW 7 - bear country

 

Next stop Invermere, travelling north up the wide valley between the Rockies and the Purcell range. We passed Columbia Lake, the source of the great river that starts flowing north here, then abruptly turns south through the next break between mountain ranges, into the US then west to the gorge we encountered before and then to the ocean at Astoria. The Copper Point Resort, where we stayed, was new, with spacious rooms and a view to the mountains. The town itself is rather spread out and more geared to winter sports. We drove high above the lake that it overlooks, Windermere Lake, on the Westside Road. Next day, we drove up ito the Rockies range, through a spa town, Radium Hot Springs, into Kootenay National Park, a less well known adjunct to Banff NP, which we would visit later. Passing up through the narrow gorge of the Sinclair Pass we saw several vehicles stopped on the road. Suddenly, Kathleen piped up: “It's a bear! It's a bear!” There, right by the highway, was a black bear, ambling along and stopping here and there to nibble the vegetation. It seemed to be completely uninterested in the vehicles. The dandelions had its attention entirely. We found out later that these are an important part of the bears' diet at this time of year, when they flower in huge numbers in cleared areas like these verges. We thought we were extremely lucky to see this, so close up, but on the way back we not only saw another black bear, but also a mother grizzly and her cub, both within metres of the road. The cub reared up, curious at the vehicles, but the mother seemed more into chewing the flowers. A real privilege for us to see this so close up and I got some wonderful photos. Also at the park entrance we saw a herd of mountain goats, grazing or just lolling about on impossible narrow ledges of the gorge. Earlier, in the park, we fond that almost all the trails were closed. We found out why when we did walk up one of them for several miles into the woods, at Kootenay Crossing. Every few metres there was a fallen tree, which we had to go variously over, under, or round, the result of winter storms, and we thought in the end that this was probably meant to be closed too, but they had not put up a sign. Later, we read about the bears and what to do if you meet one. It seems they like to use the man made trails and so that was a very real possibility: but we probably made so much noise blundering along 'the obstacle course' as we came to know it, that they probably kept well clear. But still, it made us a little more wary about future walks in the woods.

Pacific NW 6 - into Canada

 

 

Calgary. This must have been boom city after the railway arrived in the 1890s. The centre is full of substantial turn of the century banks and stores, many of fine design. It was strange to be in a city after all the quiet and small towns and empty countryside. The blue hole seemed to have caught up with us, with scorching hot weather for our stay. Just a few hundred miles north there were major forest fires, as the spring rains had failed to arrive and temperatures soared way above normal. It's a prosperous city but with many green spaces. We walked along the river through a series of linear parks, and to a 'historic' district of mostly 1910s/20s houses, then past the stadium of the Calgary stampede.

Gail joined us for this second leg of the trip. We stayed at the Fairmont, one of the original Canadian Pacific hotels built along the line to encourage tourism in the 1890s. It has grand public spaces and the rooms are recently refurbished but retaining an old school grand hotel feel. Some good restaurants too, including a modern Indian restaurant on the main drag, complete with cocktails.

But we were glad to get off into the wild again, on a great loop through the Canadian Rockies (we travelled around 2900km in all). Setting out through Calgary's sprawling modern gated suburbs and then south through an old mining area Crowsnest Pass. This valley is on such a huge scale that the ravages of the old mine workings don't make much of an impact. The towns are dying, although we managed to find an excellent ice cream shop. So to Fernie for one night.

This is a nice little town with pleasant tree-lined walks on levees beside the river – a fast mountain river with churning clear waters. After walking a while we found a very pleasant pub with a terrace to enjoy the late afternoon sun – so pleasant we ended up staying to eat there.

Pacific NW pictures

A lot more pictures here:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/keithuk/albums/72157667483795391

Pacific NW 5 - Mount Rainier

 

We continued towards our last destination in the US, eastwards along the Columbia, passing the eccentric mansion and model Stonehenge at Maryhill, then striking north through more open farming country, with few spread out communities. Then it was the industrial scale fruit growing region around Yakima, before turning back east into the mountains following a deep gorge with its wild, rapidly descending torrent to the continental divide at White Pass, and then down into Mount Rainier National Park, where we arrived at the remote settlement of Packwood. We had booked into a classic old-school motel (though dressed up with mock castellated towers) a few miles out of town, with a little stream gurgling away and a definite out of season feel. In fact we found that the nearest entrance to the park proper was closed, and the pass we had come over was not long opened. The village was tiny, but with a really good coffee shop/bakery, and a rough and ready pub with guys in stetsons and plaid shirts and down home waitresses. And hearty food at bargain prices. Next day we found our way into the central part of the park from the western entrance. An unpromising day, with lowering grey clouds, and as we drove deeper into the forest we were soon enveloped. A waterfall on the route was almost lost in the grey drizzly mist – but very atmospheric. No sign of Mount Rainier, and we were rather discouraged from continuing, but we carried on and suddenly were in clear air above the cloud layer. We had arrived in Paradise – no really! It's the name of the park inn and visitor centre – which were only just being dug out from 12 foot snow drifts. Below us cloud banks filled the valleys, and above the broad flanks of the mountain, black rock and sparkling white snow, against a deep blue sky. We could see how the place got its name.

So that was the end of the first leg of our trip: a spectacular finale. Next day we were off to the airport for the short flight to Calgary.

Pacific NW 4 - wine and waterfalls

 

To wine country, and McMinville (Mac to its residents) at one end of the Willamette Valley, a major part of Oregon's rapidly expanding wine industry. The town has a charming commercial area, 2nd Street, tree lined and dappled in the afternoon sun, when we arrived. There was a lot happening at the time of our visit: Mom and Pop Weekend at the local university, Prom night at the high school, and on the Saturday it was Lemonade Day, when all the local kids set up their homemade refreshment stalls. Small town America at its most endearing. We stayed outside town at Youngberg Hill, set way up on a bluff with wide views across the valley. This is a 6 room B&B cum winery, and we were treated on arrival to a wine tasting of their products, which are mostly Pinot noir and Sauvignon blanc. The house itself is magnificent, modern but in traditional style with wide verandas and lots of public rooms. We took the Jura suite with its 180 degree panorama across vineyards to distant hills, its vast bathroom and of course a fireplace. Kathleen's room was round the back, but compensated by a lovely sunrise.

Perhaps the highlight was the birth of a calf to the ornamental cattle on the property. We saw it just 10 minutes after birth, all legs, and unsteadily on its feet, already finding its way to its mother's milk. McMinville also has a surprisingly interesting, and huge, aircraft and space museum, built up around Howard Hughes' 'spruce goose', the world's largest airplane, that only flew once.

Next, by vertiginous forest roads (my acrophobic companions not best pleased by my navigation) close to the Paramount-style white cap of Mount Hood, to the town of Hood River and our second encounter with the Columbia River. Here it forces its way as a gorge through the coastal mountain range. We travelled up the gorge to the Horsetail and Wahkeena Falls, beautiful and in spate at this time of year, and later along the north canyon rim. Hood River itself is split by major east-west highway and railroad, which give constant traffic noise. I has a small historic centre with substantial early 20^th century buildings, and the city authorities are trying hard to develop the tourist potential of the river front. We had dinner amongst the huge vessels of the Pfriem Family Brewery there – good IPA and nice pub food. The weather continued to be spectacular, with scorching sun in the high 20s C.

Pacific NW 3: Oregon coast

 

We stayed for 2 nights at the Inn at Cannon Beach, and enjoyed long coastal walks. Though we seemed to have brought Sequim's blue hole along the trip with us so far, the rain we had been expecting finally came in on the second day, but even then only intermittently. This coast is punctuated by dark sea stacks of volcanic rock, and the beach here is dominated by Haystack Rock, where the locals were celebrating the annual return of puffins that breed here.

Oregon has a strange idea about claims to fame. While in WA we saw the world's biggest Sitka spruce, and many other such giants, whereas Oregon boasts the world's shortest river, the world's smallest harbour, and the world's shortest commissioned lighthouse (superseded after 43 months, but still very picturesque).

We had some excellent long walks along the beach over the next two days.

But we were saving the best beaches for later. Continuing south, we stopped off at Depoe Bay, a lively little tourist town where the waves were getting fiercer, slamming into the rocks along the promenade with great plumes of seawater shooting up and sometimes over the visitors. 
Our destination was Yachats (pron. ya-HOTS) where we had booked a longer stay, 5 nights at the Overleaf Resort: a house there, to be precise, just metres from the beach, with a huge double height living room with fireplace, and comfortable ensuite bedrooms. Fully equipped, so we ended up cooking in most nights, managing to construct some very memorable meals, including casseroles, lamb shanks slow baked in wine, and frittata. Yachats is a laid back little place, not entirely given over to holiday lets and weekend homes. It has some friendly local shops and an independent brew pub, and we did eat out one night at Heidi's Italian restaurant, which was charming and very authentic, with home made ravioli. We had a pleasant chat with an amateur marine historian who was touring the coast, giving talks to US coastguard staff. 
 
Most of the time we just walked, up to 9 miles a day on the endless empty beaches. Mostly sunny but cool, and with the constant roar of ocean waves, this was ideal for walking and watching local bird life. Behind the beach, the trees are contorted by the wind into tight swept back shapes, like a Japanese water colour, interspersed with grey Cape style houses – from the most shambolic shacks to huge mansions of Seattle software billionaires – but all bowing to the strength of nature, recessive among the pines. We literally felt the power when a freak wave on the incoming tide, swept right up to our 'unmentionables' as Kathleen put it, forcing us to scramble onto the front lawn of a motel, soaked and freezing. Apparently these 'sneaker waves' are well known on this coast.

We made some short trips too. To Cape Perpetua, one of the highest capes on the coast, with a 70 mile view from north to south. Next, to a working lighthouse at Heceta Head, whitewashed and pristine, with an elegant keeper's cottage nearby. Beside it, the coast road shoots over a huge viaduct then plunges into a tunnel under the next headland. Finally, into the woods, where we drove on difficult forest tracks for miles through yet more giant firs and spruces, way up over a watershed and into the clouds, where we got a real sense of the temperate rainforest. The hillside dropped away from the track in deep gorges with fast running streams, and not a single person to be seen.

A final long barefoot walk on the beach and it was time to leave the coast and head inland.

Pacific NW 2: Olympic national park

So we had to say goodbye to the Sunset Marine Resort and the friendly ladies that own and run it, and continue our trip along the north coast. We passed Crescent Lake, its long dark waters utterly still and mirror like; via blink and you'll miss it Forks; eventually to Lake Quinault (pron. kwinolt) deep into the Olympic temperate rainforest. The Lodge here, where we stayed, is part of that early tradition of national park accommodation, solid and dependable, built in just a couple of months in the 1920s when this area must have seemed very remote. It sits above a lawn reaching down to the lake, and surrounded by huge Douglas firs and Sitka spruces, with a view to the forests beyond. The rooms have been discreetly modernised to retain the feeling that early visitors would have experienced - no TVs or fridges, but now with en suites and wifi. The main lobby with its log fire and massive chimney, and decorated dark wooden structure, is very comfortable, and the restaurant was surprisingly good, if expensive. 

Next day we walked the long carefully maintained trails through the forest, across the valley's steep sided flanks. The forest is extraordinary. Every tree is covered with moss and cascading air plants and ferns. Trees brought down by storms lie chaotically, with new growth sprouting from them as they slowly rot into the ground. Everywhere there is running water, creeks and rapids and waterfalls. A primeval feel, enhanced by exotic bird calls and distant rustlings. Later we drove right around the lake, passing remote farms in cleared areas along unmetalled roads. On the north side of the lake we visited another well marked trail through one of the wildest rainforest areas, and visited an abandoned farm that is slowly being restored, complete with rusting ancient farm implements and even an old truck.

Next day, we travelled on to Oregon, passing quickly through the poorer coastal towns of south coastal Washington, stopping briefly at Astoria for a look at the still thriving fishing port and the huge panorama from the park at the top of the town: of the coast and the Columbia River, destined to become a theme of our overall trip.

Pacific NW 1: Washington north shore

A stunning start to our tour of the Pacific north west as we took a swing around Olympic National Park, in record breaking weather, like a good, clear summer day. We had been expecting dank and drear, but all was blue and bright.

We met up with Kathleen at Seatac airport and were soon clear of the traffic on back roads that took us past arms of Puget Sound and the Hood Canal, which is in fact a wide natural fjord between steep heavily wooded hills. Pines and newly leafed maples, dark and vivid greens, and blossoming flowers everywhere, the countryside was fresh and renewed, brilliant in the sunshine.

We started to catch glimpses of the Mount Olympus massif, still snow capped.

A few hours later we were sitting on the deck at our first destination, watching a spectacular sunset over the Pacific, with a rather pleasant local Pinot Gris in hand. We were at a little resort - just 7 cabins - near Sequim (pron. Squim). Our cabin had a very homely feel, with pot plants and many little domestic touches, amongst old Douglas firs on a steep slope leading down to the shore. The ocean lived up to its name that evening, calm as a millpond, reflecting the resort's jetty like a mirror.

The weather here was surprisingly good, given the north west's rainy and foggy reputation. The owners told us that pilots flying into Seatac talk about Sequim's 'blue hole', the sunny anomaly in the general cloud cover. We certainly got the benefit of it.

Exploring the area, we visited Dungeness with its 5 mile long sand spit, covered by mountains of tree trunks tossed there by violent winter storms. In the distance at the end is a lighthouse, and beyond we could see the pure white cone of Mount Rainier, which we had been glimpsing ever since we left the airport in the unpolluted air of this region. A bald eagle drifted slowly along the length of the spit and into the pine woods beyond. Later, we drove up to Port Townshend, a very lively, alternative community, by contrast to sleepy Sequim. This town once had grand pretensions and has a substantial number of old Victorian houses and store buildings, generally well preserved, as well as a working harbour with ferries to Victoria, visible across the sound in British Columbia. We were accosted in a very friendly way by several locals, who started up conversations as if with old friends. This seems to be the norm hereabouts. Everyone gives you a polite 'hello' and a smile as they pass, or even a wave if across the street.