A correspondent asked for pictures and I'm happy to oblige

It was a fresh -32 this morning. With the wind chill in effect the weatherman said it would feel more like -49 which is chilly in any body's books. I have a half hour walk to work so my solution to this problem was to wear all my clothes at the same time. In fact I think I wore more layers today than I did to go skiing yesterday. It seemed to do the trick and with my scarf up over my nose and my hat and hood pulled down low I was quite warm. Not only that but under sharia law I could have passed for "modestly dressed". That's a versatile look.

I went out at lunchtime with the same layers but without the scarf across my face. The wind chill was still in the -40s and breathing in the air was an amazing feeling, like your insides have just run down the beach and jumped into the North Sea for a dare. Plus there's the familiar sensation of all your bogies freezing inside your nose and I could feel my face setting into a rictus-like grin as my cheeks seemed to freeze.

It was a beautiful bright day which definitely makes things better and looking out from our office window we can see a bend in the Bow river below. The river is frozen over in places but under the Centre Street bridge there's a narrow channel still open. It looks like the river is boiling as 'steam' rises up in twisting wraiths from the running water. It's quite a sight.

I am always amazed by the way Daniel Day Lewis can seem to physically transform himself for different roles. From the effete Cecil Vyse in Room with a View one minute to the bearded Christy Brown in My Left Foot the next, he truly is a wonder. So I am glad to see the Oscar people recognising his latest transformation - into Tom Selleck:

I'm currently trying to recover from yesterday's backcountry ski trip to Burstall Pass. Our guide joked that it was uphill both ways, only that turned out not be a joke. I should have known as I did the same route as a hike back in September. It all made for a fun, if exhausting, day out.


There's been quite a fuss in the media here about the number of avalanche deaths in the Rockies this year, so far 24 in Western North America. I felt pretty safe though as we had two of the best guides around. Alf Skranstins is the founder and director of the UofC Outdoor Centre and with him was Albi Sole who runs the avalanche safety training programme there. Albi explained at the start of the trip that he thinks the media have the wrong angle. In his opinion the snowpack in the Rockies is typical this year. The problem is that in recent years there have been untypically stable snowpacks and people are used to taking more aggressive lines. With the right knowledge and an understanding that the conditions call for more conservative route selections he felt (quite passionately!) that the risk was minimal. Which was nice.

We certainly lived to tell the tell. They took us up towards the pass and found a nice safe slope with some beautiful deep powder snow for some turns. Only trouble was I couldn't ski it! I was on telemark skis as that's something I've been trying out this year but it was very different from on the groomed runs at Nakiska. I never wiped out too badly but I can't say I made the most of the turns I hard earned by all that climbing (700m vertical on skis!). Alf's theory was that to learn to telemark you need to fall 1000 times. I'm not sure I want to fall 1000 times as I think I've done that already learning to alpine ski. Teles have the advantage of being good on the flat and having pretty comfortable boots but I think for my next backcountry trip I'll go for an alpine touring setup.

The most fascinating aspect of the trip however was the delicious nugget of trivia that Alf rolled out at lunchtime. I was amazed to learn that many of the mountains and passes in Kananaskis Country are named after British ships and Admirals from the Battle of Jutland! Black Prince, Warspite, Indefatigable, Hood, Galatea, Chester, Opal, Sparrowhawk, Invincible - these names appear all over the place. There are Mounts Beatty and Jellicoe and even Rear-Admiral Sir Hugh Evan-Thomas has a day use car park named after him. France gets in on the act too with Mounts Foch, Petain and Joffre. Wasootch ridge however seems to be a local name. Anyway for a history nerd who likes the outdoors it doesn't get any better than this. Unless there's a range somewhere named Crecy, Poitiers and Agincourt*.


*a stop on the Toronto subway does not count.

This is for Liz and for Smarty: a definition of stretch goal.

Clearly I'm all about the business speak. Apologies.

I'm cracking on with my new year's resolutions. Yesterday I went to my first ever yoga class. Initial impressions: it was dark! Obviously they were spending their money on heating and couldn't afford to turn the lights on.

My goal is to be able to touch my toes by the end of the year. That may not sound like much to you but right now the best I can do is wave at them from mid-calf. In my wildest dreams I think about putting my palms on the floor. That's what they call a stretch goal. Stretch goal... Geddit!! Boom Boom! ithangyew....

A wonderful arts festival is in progress in Calgary. It's called the High Performance Rodeo and comprises theatre, comedy, film and dance to name but a few. Yesterday I went to see a play called Syliva Plath Must Not Die. I know what you're thinking: sounds like a knock-about rom-com song and dance show on rollerskates. Actually it wasn't really that but it did make me want to know more about Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton. Kudos must go to the two leads in those roles who really were dynamite.

Today Ashley asked me along to see Bravo!FACT, a selection of 13 Canadian short films. I don't think I've seen many short films in my time and wasn't really expecting much but this was absolutely fantastic. The quality was incredibly high and the styles wonderfully diverse. My favourite, and it was a close run thing, was an animated short called I Met The Walrus which took a schoolboy interview with John Lennon in 1969 and set it to pictures. You can get a flavour of it here at their website.

Special mention must go to the actor with the greatest name. Step forward Oscar Ocelotl (part Ocelot, part Axolotl) and claim your prize.

I can't believe I haven't blogged about this before, but I live near the best Greek yoghurt in the world. The Kalamata Grocery on the corner of my block sells it and as far as I can see it's only them. It doesn't look like much...


...but it's the bollocks!

There it is in this plain tub without any branding or anything. It just says Traditional Greek-Style Pressed Yogurt. Maybe that's where the magic happens - in the pressing. In texture it's somewhere between Cornish Clotted Cream and Creme Fraiche. It's a quivering tart yoghurt delight, best appreciated with a light drizzling of maple syrup. And when I say it's the best Greek yoghurt in the world it's not hyperbole, it's the truth. I have a 100% record of convincing unbelievers. When I say that I have the best Greek yoghurt right here in my fridge I get a lot of looks, disbelieving looks, the kind of looks that say "I'm a hard-to-please urban hipster adrift in a post-modern ironic world where nothing means anything, so, like, whatevs!"
Then they try some and in the spirit of Brian Clough we talk it through and decide I was right.

After the spectacular failure of my previous new year's resolution I'm back for more.

This year I want to:

• Spend more time in, on or beside the sea
• Do more for others
• Try yoga

Happy new year folks.