My inner Jane and Go Ape

In Vancouver I lived on the 14th floor and got nervous going up in the elevator. I have vivid memories of standing on the 5-metre diving platform at the Burnie Pool for what seemed like an eternity before climbing back down the ladder. I did the same on the 3-metre board. I don't like peering over the edge of bridges. In short, I don't like heights. It's not a life-affecting problem. Sometimes I like the thrill and adrenaline rush - to an extent. But there is a fine line between a fun and get-me-the-hell-down-from-here.

As part of my adventure with Wandering Duck, we finished the weekend at Go Ape near Buxton, one of many Go Ape adventure rope courses. I didn't know much before we arrived. Something to do with trees and ropes was as detailed as my intel went. When the afternoon started with a harness and a safety briefing, well, I got a bit nervous.



Go Ape turned out to be a ropes course through the tree tops, so my intel was correct, just vague. The course at Buxton is split into five zones, the first being a very simple walk between two trees and a small zipline as an introduction. From there it gets harder and once you climb up that first tree, the only way down is to complete the rest of the course for that zone. The motto is "always stay attached" for the simple, yet terrifying, truth that if you don't, you fall out of the tree. And these are not shrubs.

The first few links were OK - except for a bit of a hold up at the first Tarzan swing while I found the nerve to jump off the platform and swing into the net. Zone 2 was also completed with little drama, but in the middle of Zone 3 I decided this would be it. My nerves were shot and I'd become extremely sarcastic - which happens when I need a distraction from my current situation.



The problem is each zone finishes with a zipline. I would be content with my decision that I needed to get on the ground for good and then finish the zipline with an adrenaline spike and a big grin, keen to go again. Zone 4 was particularly tricky: one of the more challenging links involved dangling ropes with stirrups at the end for your feet. I skipped that one in favour of a slightly easier link. My sarcastic nature taking over, my heart racing and my knees tired from trembling, at the end of Zone 4 I was done and happy to stay down. But peer pressure is a sneaky bugger. While watching everyone climb the tree to start Zone 5 I got talked into climbing up as well. Luckily there was an alternative to the bigger Tarzan swing, which given my issues at the baby swing, I felt I should take.



A few trees along from the Tarzan swing there was a bit of a hold up. Only three people can be on each platform and I was waiting not-so-patiently at one particular tree that kept moving. It had the Tarzan-swing jumpers landing on the net pulling in one direction, and the link ahead in the other. I was not comfortable. I. Needed. To. Get. Down.

Unfortunately, there is only one way down and that was to finish the course. Ideally I would have raced through it like a monkey, but I couldn't until the people ahead of me went. So I was stuck. Stuck and imaging what use the harness would be if the thing I was attached to fell down. Eventually I made it to the final zipline, although even the zipline-buzz couldn't save my rather shaken mood. However, I took some comfort in the fact that I'd pushed through and finished the entire course.

The moral of the story? If heights make you nervous, don't climb trees.



Once again thanks to Claire for the pics.

 

Track side: Le Tour in Paris

There are some events a sports fan just has to watch. They include, but are not limited to, the Melbourne Cup, tennis Grand Slam finals, the AFL Grand Final, the Boxing Day Test, any soccer or rugby world cup game Australia is competing in, and the last day of le Tour de France. Just watching the TV broadcast of events like these is pretty awesome and one for the memory banks. I remember where I was when Italy ended Australia's soccer world cup campaign in 2006. And when Makybe Diva bagged her Melbourne Cup hat trick in 2005. There are some things you just don't forget. But, ahhh, to be there....

Up until last year I would watch Tour de France fans lining the French roadsides jump and wave at the camera in the helicopter above them and lazily think that one day, maybe, it would be awesome to be there with them. That idea seemed as likely as a cycling event without a doping controversy.

But life has habit of happening.

Two weeks ago I landed in Paris for the fourth time in 13 months, which in itself is a bizarre thing to say when just 18 months ago I'd never been to Europe. To top it off, I was there for the final day of le Tour de France. The decision to fly to Paris for the event was prompted by some fellow Aussie Tour fans I met in Belgium. They were following the event to Paris and it didn't take much to convince me I'd be crazy not to be there. After all, it was only a 90-minute flight.



Finding a vantage point

The Champs Elysees is the setting for the most famous finish in cycling, but that means it's a mad house on the day. We'd been told to avoid it, which we considered in favour of a spot near the Concorde, but in the end we chose to be in the thick of it. Between the barriers for the course, team areas and VIP, getting around was difficult. We caught the metro to the Champs Elysees and used another metro station to slip under the road when we wanted to change sides. By the time the publicity caravan rolled through the crowd was about five deep from the railing and there wasn't much room to move on the very wide footpath of the Champs Elysees.



The atmosphere

If I never see another Union Jack or a set of fake side burns it will be too soon. For those who don't know much about the race, I'll fill you in. Britain has never had a Tour de France winner and at the start of the last day Bradley Wiggins, a Brit, was in the first place. True to le Tour tradition, there was no challenge to his lead. It's another quirk of this event. While the sprinters will contest the final sprint, the general classification (GC) riders won't budge. As long as the Wiggins stayed on his bike and crossed the finish line, he was going to be the winner. So the Brits were out in force.

If an Australian couldn't be in the yellow, I'm glad it was a Brit. The costumes and the cheering was great fun and the Britons are just as rowdy as Aussies. A French winner would also have been incredible, but a winner from any other country woudn't have attracted the same support.

The race

The riders arrived a little after 4pm with 35km to go. They do eight laps around the city course, which includes the Champs Elysees. As expected there was a breakaway of sprinters and the GC riders were back in the peloton. We stood a few hundred metres up from the finish line so we saw them ride up in front of us then a little bit later, after whizzing around the Arc de Triomphe, they went back down the other side. After a couple of laps some Brits in front of me moved back and let me step in so I had a better vantage point three back from the railing. Unfortunately the people in front didn't budge, except one girl who regularly squatted down to use her iPhone even when the riders were going by. Seriously??







The finish

We couldn't see them by this stage so watched the final sprint on the large screen. If anyone wonders why I flew to Paris, it was for this moment: with Aussies on one side screaming for Matt Goss and Brits in the other ear cheering for Mark Cavendish I had goosebumps. I couldn't see as well as I could have on a TV. I didn't have a commentator telling me what was happening. But I was one of thousands and thousands of fans screaming, jumping and waving flags. It was electric.



Again?

If you only see one le Tour stage, Paris shouldn't be it.  It is an incredible thing to be part of, but it isn't the same as waiting for hours on top of a mountain or enjoying the publicity caravan in all its freebie-throwing glory. But in saying that, I wouldn't pass up the opportunity to be there again. Especially if an Aussie is in yellow.

Why I love le Tour

[caption id="attachment_2530" align="aligncenter" width="584" caption="Cadel poses with Aussie fans at the 2011 event"][/caption]

If you've read my most recent posts, are privy to my Facebook status or tune into my Twitter account, you'll know I'm a bit of a Tour de France fan.  I'm no cycling junkie and not even the biggest Tour tragic in my family, but I eagerly follow along for those three weeks in July through the time trials, the mountains and that final ride into Paris. (I even changed my blog title to yellow in honour of the yellow jersey...yep, sad)

Sports fans will attest le Tour is one of the greatest sporting events. Although most sports fans will cheer on - and then analyse the result of - a trolley race down the supermarket aisle a so we can't take their word for it. But what about those people who pay little attention to sport, let alone cycling, for the remaining 49 weeks in the year, but come le Tour time are well-versed in phrases such as peloton, breakaway and GC-contender? What is it about le Tour de France that wins so many hearts and late-night viewers (for those in the Southern Hemisphere)?

A Gentleman's Game

Example: Stage 14 2012. Last Sunday British rider Bradley Wiggins is the overall leader in the yellow jersey. His main rival and pre-event favourite Cadel Evans is about three minutes behind in the standings. Everybody is riding along happily with Evans gets a flat tyre because some idiot (I'm being restrained) has thrown carpet tacks on the road. A little way along he gets another one, putting him well behind his main competitors. Wiggins, riding ahead in a group of riders, slows down and effectively halts the race. They coast along until Evans catches back up. By the time they crossed the finish line, Evans and Wiggins were riding side-by-side (a bit cute really). Now why would Wiggins wait? Why not take the opportunity to increase his lead? "I thought it was the honourable thing to do," he said post-race. "Nobody wants to benefit from someone else's misfortune." Keep in mind that at the time he slowed, Wiggins didn't know about the tacks.

This behaviour isn't unique to Wiggins. In 2003 Jan Ullrich waited for eventual winner Lance Armstrong when Armstrong's handlebar got caught in strap of a spectator's bag on a mountain climb. In what other sport would this happen? This really is a Gentleman's Game, perhaps except for when they line the edge of the road for a pee break.



The broadcast

The Tour de France is one of the most-watched sporting events. My TDF broadcast experience comes thanks to SBS in Australia and ITV in Scotland. It's largely the same broadcast team. I feel safe in saying that no broadcast team, in any sport, does the job like this crew. The scenery is stunning, thanks to the roving army of helicopters following the race and the commentators, lead by Phil Liggett, make the event accessible to anyone. They explain terms, tactics, history, local knowledge...the lot. If you're watching in Australia you get a bonus in Gabriel Gate's food snippets. This broadcast, with its aerial shots of medieval castles, chateaus and great mountains, is more likely to inspire a trip to the French countryside than bellowing from a couch-bound, beer drinking sports fanatic.

Le Tour Live

Just as you don't need to be a sports or cycling fan to enjoy the broadcast, neither is a requirement to enjoy it in action. In fact, the only prerequisite might be patience. Having stood road-side for a few stages now, I'm don't think half the people around me are mad sports fans. Same as half the crowd at the Melbourne Cup wouldn't know which way to face on a horse. Town stages have a carnival atmosphere, with music, roaming dress-up characters and freebies. Along the course, it's a friendly community of dedicated fans in motor homes and drive-by tourists who thought they might as well see what the fuss is about. Over a few hours everybody makes nice with their neighbours, enjoys the publicity caravan and relaxes in the countryside. Eventually the bikes come and a few minutes later people go home.



I could go on. There are so many reasons to love le Tour: Lance Armstrong's inspiring post-cancer wins, Cadel's victory as the first Australian winner, seeing Tasmanian riders compete in the ultimate cycling race, George Hincapie riding on with a broken collarbone to finish...

In a few days it will be over for another year and I can go back to paying no attention to professional cycling. But before that I'm going to scream like a maniac cheer as the riders travel down the Champs Elysees in Paris....

Le Tour Day 2: Getting a taste for VIP

Enjoying the 2012 Le Tour prologue in the VIP section was an experience. But in a lot of ways it isn't the Le Tour experience I'd expected. I was prepared to stand by the course for hours, brave the sun, ration my food and drink supplies and wait and wait to cheer on the riders. Instead I had free food and drink on hand, a TV screen to watch the coverage, a seat, shade and clean toilets on hand. (If you've ever attended any mass event, you know how important this is.)

So when my second day of Le Tour action rolled around, I was looking forward to slumming it like a true fan. Then a friendly Green Edge PR girl offered me another VIP pass.

Stage 1 started in Liege and finished at Seraing, about 15km away. So I intended to watch the start, then catch a train to Seraing to see the finish. On my way to check out the team buses again I ran into another Aussie. Hugh was also looking for the Green Edge bus so we went hunting together. The crew were really friendly and appreciated the support.

Today's course did a loop through the city so Hugh and I watched the riders go by once, then raced over the footbridge and saw them a second time on their way out of town. We then spent a few hours walking around Liege before heading to Seraing, which was were the VIP section was.

After 10 minutes on the train it stopped on the tracks. There were no buildings. Just tracks and grass. But apparently this was the stop for Seraing. After walking across the tracks, around the back of some houses, through a field and a car park, we found a shuttle waiting to take people up to the finish line. You gotta give Le Tour organisers some credit. They know how to put on an event.

I was inside the VIP section when Dave, Nick and Luke - the Sydney boys I met the day before - spotted me from across the road. I managed to wrangle three extra passes so I wasn't the only one enjoying VIP for the second day in a row. There were a lot more crew in the area today. Yesterday they were kept at the bus all day, but with the riders all out on the course today they had nothing to do. The families of some of the Green Edge riders were there too, as I found out when I asked Stuart O'Grady's son who his favourite rider was and he responsed "my Dad".

[caption id="attachment_2454" align="aligncenter" width="960" caption="The Green Edge VIP Aussie fan club: Dave, Luke, Me, Hugh and Nick."][/caption]

At the end of the race we walked around the media section (these VIP passes are gold) and watched Fabian Cancellara being interviewed. He wouldn't come over to sign some autographs which was disappointing. We also met Scott Sunderland - an Aussie cyclist and former Tour rider who is working for SBS.

Back in Liege I joined the boys, and some team and crew members from Astana, to watch the Euro 12 final betweel Italy and Spain. It wasn't much of a contest.

Le Tour VIP style

The “grass is greener” cliché is often just that. A cliché. Except when you’re at Le Tour de France and that grass is a VIP area. Then it is not only green, it is spacious, air-conditioned and comes with free food and drinks.

The first day of the 2012 Le Tour couldn't be more spectator friendly. The prologue is an individual time trial through the Belgium city of Liege. (Le Tour de France often touches into other countries.) The city itself is easy to reach by train, the course big enough to find a decent vantage point and the action continuous for about 3.5 hours.

I left the hostel fully prepared for the day: Aussie flag, sunscreen, permanent marker, food, water etc. The first item became the most valuable of the lot.

At 10am - two hours before the caravan was due - people were already claiming their spot, looking pretty comfortable in their camping chairs on the edge of the course. When the time came, I found a spot under a tree to wait for the caravan.

The Tour de France publicity caravan preceeds the riders for the entire event. Every road the cyclists ride along, the caravan was there two hours before. It's a 45-minute parade of floats and freebies. T-shirts, hats, bags, lollies, cakes, water etc. My haul was rather poor compared to last year. But it's difficult on your own. Some freebies were handed out right on the fence (where I was), others were thrown over my head. It really is a team sport.

After the caravan I checked out the team buses. I stopped at the Orica Green Edge bus for a while, watching the crew prepare. Green Edge is the Australian team - the first at Le Tour. The riders are mostly Australian, with a couple of exceptions. Matt Goss, a Tassie boy, is the team leader. I was chatting to another Aussie, Chris, who was also decked out in appropriate supporter attire, when Dan, the Green Edge cameraman offered us VIP passes in exchange for us doing a quick cheer on camera. Best. Deal. Ever.

[caption id="attachment_2445" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Chris and I earning out VIP passes. Chris scored another pass for his wife Lyn."][/caption]

The VIP area was 250 metres from the finish line, and when we arrived, practically empty. We pulled up a chair right on the fence, grabbed a free beer and enjoyed some sushi. We didn't have to battle crowds, stand for hours to claim a spot, or risk losing it if we went for food or drink. In short, it rocked.

The best feature was the live coverage on the TV. It meant we knew what was going on. We saw rider after rider whizz by, but without the TV we would have had no idea how everyone was standing.

Green Edge sent a few more decorated Aussies into the VIP area, including three guys from Sydney. Nick, Dave and Luke are following most of the tour, including the mountain stages, which I think are the most fun.

After the last rider, Aussie favourite Cadel Evans, crossed the line, we enjoyed champagne and macaroons as the crowd disappeared. The boys got talking to a Belgium guy, Mark, they'd met earlier, who was walking by. He invited us for beers so off we went. Mark was a little odd, but gave us a good introduction to Belgium beers. One of them had a alcohol percentage of 11.3%. I didn't finish that.

[caption id="attachment_2446" align="aligncenter" width="584" caption="Sydney boys Nick, Luke and Dave with our Belgium mate Mark."][/caption]

Noticed my lack of pictures? The day was slightly dampened by having my bag stolen in the evening, with my camera in it. This is why travel insurance is never a waste of money.

CouchSurfing and party crashing in Quebec

I'm a big advocate of CouchSurfing and this little recount of my weekend in Quebec explains why. The generousity and hospitality I received from not just my host, but complete strangers, was incredible. And lots of fun.

In Quebec I'm staying with Juan and his lovely pointing griffon Kelvin. Seriously - best behaved dog ever. On Saturday afternoon I met Juan at his place to head to his friend's birthday. I asked what I should take and he warns me we might not be coming back that night. I ask if we need to get any food or anything to drink and the reply is nope, it's all waiting for us. We pick up some people on the way - one has to ride in the back with Kelvin - and drive about 40-minutes out of the city.

We arrive at this house in god-knows-where. Honestly, I have no idea where we were. But it was a big house, with a huge block backing onto woods. And the party is in full swing. There's food out, kids are running around and randomly Britney Spears is playing on the CD player. I'm not the only ring-in: Juan has some friends up from Montreal and another workmate has brought his girlfriend, who doesn't know anyone either. But regardless we are welcomed with open arms and fed lobster. Lots and lots of lobster. I met so many great people, understood more conversation than usual because a lot was in English, and had a fabulous time.

As the night winds up around a fire we are shown into the basement where our hosts help us set up camping mattresses and sleeping bags. I'm ashamed to say I can't even remember the names of the people we were staying with. Just too many new faces. But when one asks who the CouchSurfer is I put up my hand and he returns with the cushions off the couch for me to sleep on. Very sweet.

In the morning we wake up to breakfast: bread and spreads and cereal and juice all waiting for us. We eat out on the deck in the sun before heading off around mid-morning.

Of the ones who stayed, about half had never met our hosts before. And for me, well I was just some random who had no connection to anyone. But regardless, we were treated like family and it was wonderful.

Back in Quebec City, we head out for Columbian for lunch (there are three Columbians in our group) and then walk through the Old City before relaxing in a park until it gets a bit chilly for us.

To have Juan, my host, agree to have me stay and then include me in this (it was his birthday too last week so the party was a bit of a joint celebration) was really sweet. And then to have these strangers welcome me, feed me and take me in for the night was incredibly generous.

It just goes to show there are some really wonderful people out there and this weekend I felt really lucky to meet some of them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

In Pictures: From the window of The Canadian

Four days and four nights on a train. That's a lot of time to stare out a window. The views from The Canadian were gorgeous...and here's a little selection just for you.

Read about my trip here.

[imagebrowser id=3]

[nggallery id=3]

 

The Canadian: Vancouver to Toronto

Vancouver to Toronto on board The Canadian. The four-night journey is billed as one of the world’s greatest rail adventures. It travels through five Canadian provinces, four time zones, Alberta’s snow-capped mountains and the flat plains of Saskatchewan. Yes, I could fly across this rather enormous country and later tell tales of the quality of the airport lounges and the efficiency of the security check. Or I could actually see this country I’ve called home for the last nine months.

Day 1: Vancouver to Jasper

The Canadian leaves Vancouver at 8.30pm and the light barely holds until we’re out of the city. The schedule is timed to travel through the most scenic parts during daylight, hence the late departure. The seats are spacious and recline considerably, without imposing on the passenger behind. Extended footrests rise to the seat’s level giving me space to curl my feet up onto. When night falls I change into my pjs, (a lot of passengers do, not just the kids), grab my sleeping sack and make a pillow out of my jackets and backpack. It’s rare that anyone has to share a two-seater, other than couples who chose too. The carriage is mostly empty so everyone can stretch out.



I wake up in the mountains. Every now and then there is a clearing with a horse or a shed. Deep blue lakes also break up the trees. There are announcements when we approach something interesting: waterfalls, a view of Mount Robson, or a bear. Sometimes the trees and cliff edges are so close that it's impossible to see anything beyond them. Even when squishing my face against the window and straining my eyes up. The dome car offers a better view, but the light reflections make it difficult to photograph from.



 

We reach Alberta some time after 1.30pm. We pull into Jasper about 4pm. The train stops here for 90-minutes to allow for any lost time. For me, this is my destination at this stage.

Day two: Jasper to Saskatoon

Four days later I’m back at the Via Rail station and returning to cattle class on The Canadian. The train departs at 5pm, weaving back into the mountains. By sunset the landscape has levelled out as we head towards Saskatchewan. At this end of the country it’s not dark until 10pm. I get ready for bed, but am woken through the night as new passengers, including a family with a temperamental child, board about 3am.

My phone alerts to me a time zone change, putting us forward an hour for central time. However when 8am comes and goes with no mention of our arrival into Saskatoon I double check my clock settings to find Saskatchewan has its own time setting and it’s still only 7.25am. Dammit.

The Saskatoon station is about 8km from the city and there is no shuttle. A taxi costs about $20, although there are none waiting when we arrived. The desks inside the station were also unmanned. Luckily I’d done some research and walked about 10 minutes to a local bus stop and caught that into town. Thanks Google Transit.

Day three: Saskatoon to Winnipeg

The local buses don’t run early enough so the only option for getting to the station is taxi. My driver gets lost, but I still make it in plenty of time.





The flat prairie landscape continues for hours. The colours at this time of year are so rich. The paddocks are either a bright green or deep brown if they are being ploughed. The contrast is lovely. The ponds and lakes are a bright blue. Some paddocks nearly seem white with the wheat grass, others all yellow from dandelions. Sometimes the only sign of life is the dust rising up as a car speeds down a gravel road. We go through several railway crossings, but there is never anybody waiting.



An announcement tells us to keep watch for bison and we eventually see some, but they are in the distance. At 1pm we head into central time and lose an hour. At Melville, a "city" of 5000, we disembark for 30 minutes. The station is surrounded by derelict buildings, which probably says it all.

For dinner I head to the dining car for the first time. It’s a bit of a trek to get there – through about five carriages including some of the sleeping cars. Part of me is envious they have a bed, then I see that their toilet is less than a metre from where the passengers sit during the day. Two of my dining companions are headed to Winnipeg. The husband used to work for the railway so now has a pass to travel when and where he likes. The third is a truck driver so uses any excuse not to drive.

After dinner (salmon with a fruit salsa and vegetables) we pull into Winnipeg about 8.30pm. We can’t reboard until 10pm and the train won’t leave until 10.30pm. The station is next to The Forks, an indoor market on the riverbank. I did think about not having dinner on the train and getting something here, but I didn’t want to risk us being late and not having enough time. I spent the stopover walking along the river, through the market and a quick loop through downtown before we reboarded. I got ready for bed and watched some TV on my computer before going to sleep.

Day four and five: Winnipeg to Toronto

Today I face my first full day on the train. Stopping at Jasper and Saskatoon meant I had yet to wake up and go to bed on the train in the one day. I start the day with breakfast in the dining car, having had enough of sandwiches, instant oatmeal and museli bars. We cross into Eastern Time so I arrive in the dining car just after 8am and leave close to 10am. I spend the morning taking pictures. The Manitoba landscape has lots and lots of trees. It's still pretty flat, but now we have lakes and a bit of bush.

 

When the hostess comes to take lunch and dinner reservations, the only seating left for both meals are the last ones. I don't fancy anything on the dinner menu, or eating at 9pm, so I opt for a late lunch. Torn between two options, I split two of the dishes with one of the other passengers. Her suggestion, which worked out well for both of us. A multi-seat conversation starts and we don't leave until the crew kicks us out to set for dinner.

We follow the excitement of Melville with a stop in Hornepayne. It's Victoria Day so most of the shops we see - a hardware store, bank and library - are shut. It's nice to get off the train.

I spend the afternoon reading and having a nap. When it gets dark I watch some TV and get ready for bed about 11pm. We've been out of cell reception for most of the day. That doesn't change until about 1am. I know this because that's when all the phones started beeping with new messages.

I toss and turn a lot during the night, changing positions, curling up then stretching out, kicking my sleeping bag off and then pulling it back on.



In the morning I get my things together - everyone is pretty trusting. Bags, cameras and laptops are left at empty seats. I have breakfast in the dining car and get back to my seat not long before we arrive in Toronto. At one point we were running half an hour behind, but we arrive five minutes early at 9.20am.

I have one hour before I board my next train. This time it's just a five-hour trip to Montreal.

View a gallery of pictures from The Canadian here.

Exploring from above and below

After covering almost everything I wanted to see in Jasper that could be achieved on foot, on Wednesday I accepted an invitation to explore a few places that were out of reach of me and my hiking boots.

The first stop was Maligne Canyon, about 9km from the town centre. After the run of good weather I’ve had in Jasper, I couldn’t really complain at my first miserable day. Fortunately the rain stopped whenever we wanted to get out of the car. There are several trails around the canyon and it is possible to walk there from town, if you’re up for it. We stuck to the main tourist walkway on the way down, but took a bit of a shortcut up the other side to get back.

Despite the recent warm weather, there was still a bit of snow along the edges of the canyon. During winter it’s completely covered. As summer progresses the water will change from the murky brown – a result of the winter run-off in the river system – and turn blue. The view changes a lot as you walk along the trail - crashing waterfalls, narrow little corners and more sedate patches before the speed picks up again. There are some caves in the area too, but now isn’t the time of year to explore them.

Our other destination was Athabasca Falls, about 30km from the town, in the opposite direction to the canyon. Only a month ago the road to the falls was closed due to flooding, but we were OK.

Four days in Jasper and I'm still blown away by the beauty of the place. Athabasca Falls isn’t a giant waterfall you can stand at the bottom of and marvel and the flood of water coming from above. Instead, the main viewing platforms are at the top, where you can see river feed its way into the narrow canyon with impressive force and sound. The water bounces off the rocky banks and over millions of years has created potholes, which remind me of like looking into a washing machine while it’s going. The noise of it all is a little deafening. Once you walk further down to where it settles into the river again the silence is almost as startling as the sound in the first place.

We take the quicker route back to town and make it home about an hour before I have to leave for my train.

Up, up and away on the Jasper Tramway

I'm not one for "attractions" and so have largely ignored the many brochures for rafting, sightseeing trips, wildlife tours around Jasper. Initially I didn't even consider riding the Jasper Tramway. But word around town is it's an experience not to be missed.

The tramway base is about 6km from the town centre. It was a nice day so I pulled on the hiking boots again, although most of the walk followed the road. I arrived at base dripping with sweat and, according to the girl who sold me my ticket and a Pepsi, smelling of sunscreen.

The car fits 30 people, but it was squishy with 18 in it for our six-minute ride to the top. I'm not great with heights so cuddled the front of the car so I couldn't see how far we were off the ground. I wasn't comforted by the swaying when we went over the tower at half-way.

Our guide warned us about wind-chill at the top, but after my hike, the 8-degrees was just what I needed. There is still a lot of snow at the top. It's starting to melt, but is unlikely to be completely gone before July. Most of the surrounding boardwalks were closed, but those with hiking boots (including me) simply jumped the rope and headed carefully into the snow.



With gorgeous blue skies, glistening snow and a clear view to wherever you wanted to look, it was a stunning experience. I could see the town (which is shaped like a J), Patricia and Pyramid Lakes where I walked on Sunday, the tip of Mt Robson and those contrasts of green in the valley below.

I spent an hour at the top - walking, sitting, taking photos, enjoying the sun - before heading back down. It was definitely worth the $32 ticket and I had the perfect day for it. I started the 6km walk back into town before a couple from Quebec pulled up in their van an offered me a ride.

 

There is a company, Sundog Tours, which provides a shuttle out to the Jasper Tramway for $36, which includes your tramway ticket. Not a bad deal really. I wouldn't recommend the walk out there once summer heats up.

Today's spending: Jasper Tramway ticket: $32; Drink: $1.50. Total: $33.50

Into the trails

While much of Canada's mountain towns are packed for the winter, it is the summer when Jasper swells. Why? This little town, home to about 4000 year round, is surrounded by miles and miles of trails. It is a outdoor enthusiasts heaven. Hikers, horse riders and mountain bikers have endless routes to explore.

After a much-needed sleep in and meeting Reece's latest Couchsurfers, two French girls, the three of us headed out to explore the trails. The maps are great and each trail is numbered so it's hard to get lost. We chose a path that was about 5km, but took several detours resulting in a six-hour hike over hills, alongside beautiful lakes, through bush and back home.

Oh and did I mention the weather was A. M. A. Z. I. N. G. I think I'm actually a little bit sunburnt.



 We were on the lookout for wildlife - out of interest and safety concerns. As much as I'd love to see a bear close enough to get a great picture, I'm happy to achieve that from a train window. Reece had also warned us the elk have been moody lately and to keep our distance.

 

The first part of our walk took us through quite sparse bush, which has been thinned out to create a fire break. On another trail the trees were quite dense and the track a little muddy. The edges were covered with moss. Then it was back to thin little trees and a dusty track before coming out at a gorgeous lake. Wow. I took my boots off and paddled, but didn't last long before the icy waters got too much.



Further on we came to Patricia Lake. We stood on the shore staring out over the turquoise blue waters stretching out before the snow-capped mountains. Stunning. It was an image straight out of a tourist brochure. The kind of setting you only imagine seeing. And yet here we were with the whole place to ourselves.



It was a few more kilometres to Pyramid Lake, our initial destination. Each lake more gorgeous than the last. Aside from the tourists pulling up at some of the scenic spots, we saw three other hikers and two people on bikes. In another few weeks I suspect we wouldn't be able to count the other people on the trails. Jasper is about to get busy.



The trail back took us past some stables. There was lots of horse droppings along some of the trails, but we never saw any riders. The next trail brought us out to the road. After hours in secluded bush land we finally saw our first animal (aside from some squirrels). On the grassy bank by the road, an elk was grazing, oblivious to the traffic and us, across the other side. We sat down and watched it for a while, although cautious of Reece's earlier warning.



Another kilometre or so and we were back home, with a quick stop at the supermarket for supplies.

Today's spending: Ice cream and drink: $6; groceries: $25. Total: $31