These last 10 days I've had the inestimable pleasure of entertaining a friend from home, one Dr Alice Ferrebe of Liverpool John Moores University. It was so much fun and now that she's gone it all seems a little flat; back to work tomorrow but then it's a long weekend so the holidays aren't over quite yet. Yay!

I used Alice's visit to do some local stuff I hadn't yet had a chance to do: a trip to the Alberta badlands near Drumheller and then a camping trip to Lake O'Hara in Yoho National Park. I'll try and post bits about each trip but the photos are up on Flickr already.

Amidst all this I even managed to appear on local TV! Somehow my run in with my new friends on the far right had found it's way to the news room. On the eve of an anti-racism event in Calgary Global News got in touch and wanted to do an interview. When Dr News comes knocking on the door of course I let him in. So last Friday Alice and I headed down to where the incident happened to meet the reporter. We did a quick interview and talked about what happened and then they wanted to film a kind of low-budget reconstruction. At this point my friendly landlord happened to be walking by and stopped to say hello. He was soon roped in as a nazi volunteer! His job was to stand there with a leaflet whilst I walked past and gave him a dirty look. Now without actually being black it would be hard for my landlord to look any less like a fascist on a recruiting drive even when filmed from behind. In the end that footage was (thankfully) left on the cutting room floor and they made do with pictures of me just walking and giving a dirty look into space, sitting there reading my book and then getting up to say my piece. Watching it on the evening news that evening I just couldn't get past quite how English I sounded!

The other important discovery I made on holiday was my hypothesis that a significant part of the human brain is given over to worrying about your trousers getting wet. So when you purchase MEC Gore-Tex overtrousers (for less than $100!) that part of your brain can relax and with the extra bandwidth anything is possible. More on that story later...

In my mind Alaska is a long way from everywhere. It seemed slightly unbelievable yesterday to be on a road that went to Alaska, but there it was on the signs: apparently I was headed for Fairbanks. In fact I did't want to go quite that far, my destination was Haines Junction some 2 hours west of Whitehorse and firmly in the Yukon still, but wot larks to be driving the Alaska Highway!

The name seems full of adventure, something about it seems to evoke the frontier spirit. In reality the driving is a long way from adventure. It's a well paved round in good condition and what other traffic I did see tended to be of the giant winnebago variety towing an SUV with a canoe on the top! But good roads only added to the pleasure of the trip as it made it easier to enjoy the wonderful countryside.

The landscape around Whitehorse really reminded me of Scotland or the Lake District, and I can offer no greater praise. The hills are more rounded, grassy and craggy than in the Rockies and if everything is on a bigger scale than at home it still seemed familar. A slice of Skye; a touch of Torridon; I'm sure I even saw Blencathra's big brother.

The nostalgic reverie comes to a dramatic end as you approach Haines Junction. Before you a new upstart range appears, towering over the familiar shaped hills. This is the St Elias Range, the eastern boundary of one Canada's wildest regions, the Kluane National Park. Kluane is home to not only Canada's highest mountain (Mt Logan for you trivia buffs) but apparently also the largest non-polar glaciers in the world. Alas all of this is hidden behind the massive pallisade infront of you but that sight is spectacular in its on right.

I couldn't help thinking how much younger the mountains in front looked, born of an entirely different orogenic event I'm sure. They seemed like teenagers: all spiky tops and altitude, looking down on the old timers across the valley. The hills on the other side were litterally worn down with the passage of time but I'm sure they thought to themselves "Aye son - you'll get yours in the end" (anthropomorphic mountains are all Scottish of course).

My poor camera struggled to cope with the huge scale of the scenery all around. I'll post some pictures when I'm back in Calgary but they really don't do things justice. I recomend you all come and look for yourself.

Something about being in Canada makes people think I'm way up north. It's true Canada has a lot of north, and that's been in the news recently with all Russia's North Pole knavery! But most people live in the south of Canada which turns out to be just as south as a lot of other places. Calgary's latitude, for instance, is 51 degrees and 1 minute North. Which puts us slightly to the south of, well, London (51deg 32mins N). So there.

This weekend though I am going really north, to Whitehorse in the Yukon Territory. Whitehorse is 60 degrees N, a tad more northerly than Helsinki but not as far north as Reykjavik. Whatever - it's the most northerly I'll ever have been and although the nights will be drawing in I'll be fascinated to see just how dark it is or isn't at midnight when I arrive.

I've been coming home in the evenings and feeling a bit "meh!" so no blogging for a while. Which means I'm now playing blog catch-up so nothing gets the attention it deserves.

I mentioned I was in Ottawa. That was fun and it was great to see my friend Helen who kindly put me up for a couple of nights. As I already mentioned the heat wasn't so great but I was lucky enough to be taken sailing one evening by Helen's gentleman friend Wilby which was cool in every sense. I've never done much sailing but always liked the idea of catamarans and out we went in a Hobie Cat across the wide Ottawa River and back before the wind dropped


I then went through to Montreal where thankfully the temperatures were more conducive to wandering around. I was saying with my friends Sean and Keitha who were in fine form and excited about the arrival of a brand new Monkbert later in the year (as am I!). I can't believe it's taken me so long but I had my first taste of the Quebecois treat poutine - that's chips in gravy with cheese curds to you and me. It was good but I'm still a firm believer that a gentleman should have nothing on his chips but salt and sauce.



Montreal is a fascinating city and a wonderful place to stroll around. I did quite a bit of wandering as the only event in my diary was another Facebook-facilitated rendezvous with an old friend I hadn't see since Queen's days called Vanessa Stettler. We met in Vieux Montreal at a very cool joint called the Hotel Nelligan. We had a really nice chat and Vanessa introduced me to the delights of their white wine sangria: if a better drink has ever been invented for a hot summer's day I'd like to meet it. The only other thing I HAD to do was my pilgrimage to the home of the Montreal Canadiens in the rather boringly named Bell Center, I mean Centre Bell (this is the 3rd largest French speaking city in the world after all). I did a tour of the Canadiens' previous arena - the legend shrouded Montreal Forum - back in 1989. The Forum was ice hockey's Anfield, Wembley and Lords all rolled into one and looking into the rafters to see all the Stanley Cup banners there brought a feeling of being in the presence of history that I remember to this day. The Bell Center has none of that romance and the banners were rolled away as they were setting up for Daft Punk that evening. It's an impressive size and I would love nothing more to see the Habs play there but it is a shame that the Forum is no more. I was impressed though with the efforts they made to reach out and connect to the history of the Canadiens. They have a team hall of fame on the main floor with photos and plaques and a reminder of the history of success and a connection with the city that marks them out from every other team in the NHL. I hope when Liverpool move to their new stadium they will try and do something similar. The traditions of both teams has a lot to do with what makes them special. And of course they are now both owned by the same bloke!

The weekend after was my housewarming party. I've been in this flat 3 months or so and now that my decorations (hem hem) are complete I was ready to let my friends in. The final piece of the decorating jigsaw that I had lacked was something for my bedroom. I was very happy when I found some marvellous photos of Prairie skies by that up and coming Canadian photographer, Ashley Bristowe:

Not just because India made 664 all out! Today local boy Anil Kumble became the first cricketer in history to have scored a test century and taken all 10 wickets in an test innings. Well played sir!

It's bothering me...

is on Elgin Street, Ottawa.


The photo doesn't show it but the Scottish pound is trading for a few cents less than the English pound. I know what you're thinking.... arbitrage opportunity!

I'm in Ottawa and jeepers is it hot. They should call it Hottawa. The reason they don't is that it's too hot to do things like change names. Of course it's not the heat so much (34 degrees) as the humidity that brings on the torpor. They have invented a thing called the Humidex here, which tells you what the temperature feels like(!?) and that was nearing 40 today. It's made effective sightseeing quite a task but I've been very brave and struggled on.

Today I visited the house where it all began. It being my obsession with Canada and all things Canadian (not the Humidex). I had written to the current residents of the place where we had lived back in the 1970s and they had very kindly invited me in and allowed me to wander round the house and garden at will. I had been back once before in 1989 but then there were major refurbishments going on, the floorboards had been taken up, the walls were bare and I couldn't see very much. This time I could go everywhere, even up to the top floor and find my old bedroom.

Sitting in there I wondered at the passage of time. I had walked out of that room as a 7 year old and walked back in nearly 30 years later! I thought of how much we change (for one thing I had a LOT of hair in 1978) whilst remaining the same people. When I was 7 I couldn't imagine being 37. Now I'm 37 I don't remember much of what being 7 was like (and I still can't believe I _am_ 37!). I wonder if I will make it to 67? I ought to, but who knows?

It was all pretty emotional but not nearly has bad as I thought it might be. I couldn't help think how lucky I was to have lived in that amazing house (pics to follow), with my amazing parents and have the good fortune and opportunities that have followed on in the subsequent 30 years.