Bill's Travels

[BillB]

We haven’t travelled much this year, mainly due to Jackie’s looming cataract surgery which was carried out last week. There were a number of pre-operative appointments over about 6 weeks and the torrential rain we experienced this winter didn’t encourage us to indulge our pastime of taking off for France or Germany for a few days.
Our son seems to have turned a page after the loss of his wife and is frequently out and about with friends and colleagues; he is at the moment of writing off on a trip to watch Charlton Athletic with a couple of his colleagues. Of course, since they all work in Luxembourg this takes up the whole weekend.
Our Christmas at a local hotel was very successful - my son and I did our regular exercise routine in the hotel’s swimming pool each day, and I admit this was the first time I had ever been swimming on Christmas Day.
Our son’s Christmas gift to us turned out to be tickets to an Andre Rieux concert in Trier, our closest big German town. This experience was on Jackie’s bucket list so he couldn’t have given her a better gift. Thinking about it, I suggested that we book into a nearby hotel for the night of the concert so that we wouldn’t have to worry about joining the streams of traffic from the arena at the end of the evening and could just relax. I found a hotel which turned out to be 200 metres from the venue and booked a room for the night. We duly checked into the hotel on the chosen day and found it to be an excellent choice. Not knowing this particular area we booked a table in the restaurant to give us plenty of time to have dinner and make our way over the road to the arena. I made an interesting discovery just before the meal when I ordered my usual aperitif of whisky without ice or water. The very friendly waitress brought up our drinks and the first sip made me sit up. This was a whisky I didn’t recognise (and I’ve been drinking whisky for a good few years now). It was distinctive enough to be a malt whisky but not one I recognised. I sipped and pondered for a few minutes and finally asked which whisky this was. The waitress brought me a leaflet about it, which to my astonishment told me it was a locally-distilled one. German whisky? I was totally gobsmacked. I’m not a snob when it comes to whisky – I’ll give virtually anything bearing that name a go, but I didn’t even know that whisky was distilled in Germany. And even more surprising – it was really nice. I decided that I would buy a bottle when I saw it and add it to my collection. To date I haven’t been able to find one. But I’m still looking.
The Arena was smaller than the usual Andre Rieux venue as we had seen on TV, but the atmosphere was the same – everybody was tensed up for a great evening. We hung our coats in the cloakrooms and took our seats. We must have been in a section occupied by Luxembourgers, because our area was a sea of red, white and blue flags.
The lights dimmed slightly, the notes of “76 Trombones” struck up over the speaker systems and the orchestra came down the aisles, Andre Rieux in the vanguard, up the steps to the stage, and then took their places with their instruments. The audience was applauding and cheering and Andre stepped to the front of the stage and began talking to the audience. At that moment, the woman behind us began talking to her husband. She continued to talk all through the first half of the concert. The only time she stopped talking was when they played a song she recognised, when she sang along with the singer, very loudly. At one point Jackie turned around and gave the woman a fearsome glare. It was the kind of glare that when she gives it to me, I know I’m in dead trouble. The woman ignored her. After another twenty minutes I turned around, put my finger to my lips and went “Shhhh!” She ignored me and continued talking.
The interval came and went. The orchestra came back and Andre came to the front of the stage and began his usual 2nd half introduction. The woman behind found this too much competition. She raised the volume of her voice. I think she was speaking Greek, but I wasn’t sure as I was hearing two foreign languages simultaneously, one of which I don’t speak. I’ve worked with most European nationalities during my life as an expat, and I found the Greeks to be the most arrogant. The nonstop chat became too much for the German lady sitting next to her who asked her, politely, in German, to be quiet. The talker just said sneeringly, “Eengleesh”, which she didn’t speak that well. But Jackie thought, as an English person, that she would speak English, so she asked her to be quiet. The woman’s husband said to Jackie, “What’s your problem, we’re only talking.”
Now faced with this arrogant stupidity, I was left speechless. If I had been siting behind them I could simply have leant forward and cracked their heads together hard enough to knock them both insensible for the rest of the concert. Alas, I’m not the violent type.
The concert ended and we went quickly to get our coats. The way I felt, if the wretched woman said one word to me I might well have done something I’d regret.
We made our way back to the hotel, took a table in the bar and I ordered another German whisky. Jackie had a G&T. The place began to fill up with people returning from the concert. What a shame that an evening that had promised so much had turned so sour because of a selfish and arrogant pair.
However, on the plus side I was sifting through the Daily Telegraph online shortly afterwards when I came across an ad for an Andre Rieux concert at the Wembley Arena. The price included a night in a hotel, a bus to and from Wembley and breakfast the next morning. I whipped upstairs and told Jackie that we were going to another AR concert – albeit in December. We made the necessary phone calls and thanks to the magic of Visa, we now have reservations.
Travelwise, we leave towards the end of April for a tour of Western Canada and the Rockies. It will be our first visit to Canada, but the tour looks really promising: starting in Vancouver and ending in Calgary, including two days on the Rocky Mountaineer train. We’re really looking forward to this trip.
In September our youngest son and his wife are planning to renew their wedding vows so we have to go. We’ll spend a month with our friends Claire and Terry, taking off for a few days to meet up with our son in Las Vegas and celebrate the renewal. That’s all we have on the horizon at the moment, but I’m toying with the idea of spending a couple of days by TGV in either Lyon or Marseille. That all depends on the time of year and the school holidays – we make a point of avoiding those periods as being the most expensive and the most crowded. So we’ll see.

 

[BillB]

Our trip to Canada started on a Saturday, which is somewhat unusual as prices are higher than midweek so most tour companies tend to fly on the cheaper days. However, it did mean that road traffic was considerably less and our son drove us to the airport in half the time it normally takes.
Our flight from Luxembourg to Heathrow brings us in at Terminal 1, whereas most BA long haul flights depart from Terminal 5. The transfer from Terminal 1 to Terminal 5 is fast and efficient as the buses arrive and depart at around 10 minute intervals. Having already checked our luggage in at Luxembourg right through to Vancouver all we had was our hand luggage (1 bag for Kindles and iPads) and my camera bag. Although we were in transit we had to pass through security which is always a hassle but a necessary one given the threats that regularly arise. Once we fell out of the security area and were once more free we found we had 5 hours to kill so we made a beeline for the lounge.
At the age of 77 the idea of sitting scrunched up in a narrow seat for 11 hours with barely room to move my legs while the very fat person in the next seat spills over into mine fills me with horror so my attitude now is to travel less often, but better. What’s the point of being the richest man in the graveyard? We had upgraded to Business Class which takes so much of the grief out of flying that I can’t think why we didn’t do it years ago (couldn’t afford it if the truth were told). We left the heaving mass of passengers and took seats in the Club lounge. The alcoholic drinks are free but it was a little too early for us so we had coffee and a light meal from the buffet (also free), helped ourselves to newspapers and settled down to pass the hours until our flight was called.
When that moment came we discovered that we were going to have to take the little underground train to our satellite terminal, 5B. Again, these run very frequently so there is very little crowding and no delays. Another advantage of flying Business is that you board first, get yourself seated without having to fight for space in the overhead locker and spend the time before take-off sipping free champagne. We took off on time and the flight fell into the regular routine – drinks, dinner, coffee. After that I partially reclined the seat and watched a film: in this case Robert Redford in All is Lost, the story of a lone yachtsman after his boat is holed by a partially submerged container. About a third of the way in I began to get more and more drowsy (the whisky might have had something to do with that) so I stopped the film, fully reclined the seat until it was flat, pulled the duvet over myself and gave myself up to the slumbers of the righteous and the well fed.
I awoke some hours later went to the toilet to wash my face and clean my teeth. Feeling considerably fresher I started to watch the rest of the film but was interrupted by the serving of afternoon tea. Not feeling particularly hungry I ate those items that were low carb and left those that were not. I continued to watch the rest of the film. I glanced out of the window regularly, noting that we were flying over the Rockies – their snow-capped peaks looking rather close. In a while it was announced that we had begun our descent into Vancouver. Soon after, the entertainment system was switched off and I was left wondering whether Redford made it to dry land. For the rest of the journey I was hoping the film would still be showing on BA flights when we returned.
Vancouver sits in a beautiful setting, on the mainland inside a chain of islands. It looked beautiful to my eyes and I was looking forward to exploring it.
We didn’t have to wait long at the carousel before the luggage started coming up and amazingly our bags were among the first. I slung them onto the trolley and we set off for immigration and customs which were quickly surmounted. At the exit we discovered our tour manager who asked us to wait while he collected up our fellow travellers. Once we were all together it was outside to the bus and onwards to our hotel for the next three nights.
Vancouver appeared, at first sight, to be your regular big city – nice parts, run down parts, industrial parts – but our hotel was next to a large stadium and close to the downtown area with shops and restaurants.
Our room was comfortable and after freshening up we went downstairs to the bar. Jackie was feeling peckish and ordered the fried squid to accompany her gin and tonic. I wasn’t feeling in the least bit hungry so I just had a Canadian Club whisky. We were joined by another couple from our group and were chatting away when an alleged disc jockey started up at a volume that was beyond human endurance. We tolerated it for a very short while but once he started up the karaoke machine we fled back to our room. I am of the opinion that the inventor of karaoke systems, the manufacturers, the operators and performers of such systems should be locked in a very small cell for the rest of their lives while very loud, very bad music is played at maximum volume continuously, night and day. That’ll learn ‘em.
A city tour was scheduled for this morning. We like to do this early on in a stay in a new town so that we have an idea of the layout and any other places we would like to visit at our leisure. Our bus departed and then we heard the bad news – a fun run had been organized that morning which meant a couple of the places planned on this tour had to be cancelled. Other places could only be reached after detours. I have to wonder why people who need to torture themselves can’t do it without disrupting an entire city. I once saw a woman wearing a tee shirt that said: “Sod jogging, I’m knackered” and felt a great deal of sympathy although I have never felt the slightest urge to jog anywhere. And if I did I would strenuously resist it.
One of the points of interest was a clock. So what, you might ask. Well this one was unique in that it was powered by steam. Yes, just like the early steam trains. And it sounded the Westminster chimes at 15 minute intervals. I’ve heard of electric clocks, battery clocks, even clockwork clocks, but this is the only steam clock I’ve ever heard of. We went on to have a look around the pier area where cruise liners sometimes dock then went on by a circuitous route to a park where a collection of Indian totem poles was on display.
On our drive around the city we would catch occasional glimpses of groups of exhausted people labouring along trying to pretend they were enjoying themselves. However, by this time we had to return to our hotel for a warmer coat as the afternoon was to be occupied with a cable car trip to the top of Grouse Mountain, a local overlook and home to a grizzly bear sanctuary.
I got out of the bus and stared up at the cables running up the mountain. They seemed to go an awful long way up and the cable car that was nearing the top looked awfully small. However, I don’t suffer from vertigo, though Jackie does get a touch of claustrophobia in confined spaces, so I was looking forward to the ride somewhat more than she was. However, al l turned out well: we boarded the next car that arrived and started up the mountain. Jackie became so absorbed at the vista opening out before us that she wasn’t afflicted at all. And the view we had would distract Michelangelo from the Mona Lisa. The whole city spread out below us, we could see the sound between Vancouver and Vancouver, then Vancouver Island came into sight. The weather wasn’t the best as we had clouds atop the mountain and we could see snow lying on the slopes above us. When we arrived at the top it was snowing – not heavily, but enough to make our heavier coats more than welcome – and we walked over to various lookout points to catch glimpses of the stunning views below. Time, however, was moving on so we crunched our way through the snow up to the grizzly bear sanctuary. The two bears in residence at that moment were younger ones who could not be put back in the wilds for a number of reasons – the chief one being that they had lost their fear of humans and would quite likely be a menace to any campers or hikers whose paths they crossed. The bears decided to take sanctuary from us and stubbornly stayed in their quarters. I am forced to admit that were I a grizzly in that weather I would probably have stayed in my warm nest.
After that little disappointment it was back to the cable car where we had the same viewpoint, but in reverse. We started off with the enormous panorama and it gradually reduced in scope as we descended.
We had another spot to see before we staggered back to our hotel room, but that’s for the next posting.

 

[BillB]

Our bus now made for the Capilano Suspension Bridge, which turned out to be strictly for those on foot – it was too small for cars and even too small for cycles. It spanned a narrow but deep gorge with a river rushing over the rocks at the bottom. The bridge bounced and swayed as we crossed, making it necessary to keep one hand grasping the cables at the side. Anyone suffering from vertigo might have had difficulties, but I think those who did not have a head for heights might have had the good sense to avoid the bridge. Once on the opposite side I told Jackie that I was going to climb up to the treetop walk. She took one look at it, winding its way high up in the trees and decided that her legs deserved a rest and urged me on. I mounted the steps up to the first platform and looked around. What a remarkable experience to be standing at the top of a large fir tree with a walkway in front of me that would lead me on. At intervals there are placards that explain the ecology of the trees that you are walking through. I passed over Jackie, ensconced on a wooden seat, chatting with another couple from our group. I gave her a cheery wave and continued on my way. The full circuit took about 20 minutes – a little longer if you stopped to gaze around.
I rejoined Jackie and we made our way back over the suspension bridge. On the other side was another walk – this time mounted on the cliff face. Jackie took one look and said, in so many words, “Not on your life,” so I set off, leaving her on a seat overlooking the gorge. The cliff walk was fascinating: how often do you get a close-up view of a cliff face without an energy-sapping climb? I enjoyed it immensely, though my legs were telling me they needed a rest by the time I met up with my patient wife. But what wonderful views I had enjoyed.
Back at the hotel a welcome dinner for the group had been arranged. It was at this meal that I seriously began to suspect whether our tour manager was completely sane. He had a disconcerting habit of waving his arms around whenever he spoke, he hopped from subject to subject without actually finishing anything and he had a selection of facial tics which I later learned were expressions he put on to emphasise whatever point he was making, in the event he ever concluded it. The group had all the makings of a good bunch – we all seemed to get along together, when we were asked to be in the lobby at a certain time everybody was there, and we all seemed to be in a light-hearted mood. Let’s call our tour manager Rich (not his real name). The people that Jackie and I were sitting with had been having quite a time of it with lots of jokes and laughter (so were the other tables) until Rich stood up. Usually with a tour group the manager at this point explains what optional excursions are on offer, how they can be paid for, and then goes on to give some background to the sights we are about to experience.
Not our Rich! First he told us about transit tickets for the over 60s which can be purchased at newspaper shops and give the purchaser reduced fares on Vancouver’s transport system. This was totally superfluous as the following day we were all due to take the ferry to Vancouver Island and the day after we were due to board the train for the trip through the Rocky Mountains. But on he ploughed, the human windmill, leaping from subject to subject without concluding a single one of them. Let me give you an idea of his delivery. But you’ll have to imagine his flailing arms and the rapidly changing expressions. “We’ll be boarding the bus at 9 a.m. for the ride to – Oh, yes, you won’t have too much space on the train – but we’ll talk about that tomorrow – I’m going to pass a sheet around for you to fill in your choice for the farewell dinner in 10 days’ time – usually I’m the tour manager for skiing groups from Germany – I’m an excellent skier – I’m of Swiss descent – I’m also an actor – I met you at the airport when you arrived and I’ll be with you until you have checked in at the airport. Not many other tour managers do that.…” (Oh yes they do, I thought.) I don’t know if he plays any other instruments but he certainly knows how to blow his own trumpet.
At the end of at least 30 minutes (it seemed much longer) he stopped talking. None of us understood anything he had been talking about. We were more confused at the end of his talk than we were at the beginning. People were looking at their neighbours, rolling their eyes, turning their mouths down.
It was a subdued group who shuffled out of the restaurant and upstairs to bed.
At breakfast the next morning the main subject of conversation was our tour manager and his performance of the night before. Nobody had ever come across anyone remotely like him. But we were to learn he had other equally irritating habits.
This day we were going to visit Vancouver Island and our driver, who also acted as our commentator, was a Native American called Jeff who was so much the archetypal Indian that you wouldn’t have mistaken him for anything else. His commentary was knowledgeable and highly entertaining. He had such a sense of humour that he kept us all amused on the journey through Vancouver and down to the ferry terminal.
Our voyage on the ferry was scheduled to last for an hour and a half – the first 45 minutes through open water and the for second part we wound our way through offshore islands. We took the chance to grab a quick lunch in the first section of the voyage and were out on deck taking in the dazzlingly beautiful scenery.
After disembarking Jeff drove us to Butchart Gardens, one of the must-see places on the island. Once we were inside we could see immediately why so many people kept telling us not to miss it – a riot of colour hits your eyes as soon as you enter. At the period we were there tulips were in season and it seemed that every possible colour of tulip was in flower. In addition, smaller ground-covering flowers had been planted between them. The combinations of colours were, on first sight, not what you would think of putting together, but once you saw them you began to think “why shouldn’t these tones go together – they blend so beautifully”.
The site of the gardens was originally a quarry but so exquisite is the layout that you would be hard-pressed to notice. Just enter Butchart Gardens into your search engine and see for yourself how the art of garden creation can be raised to such an unbelievable level.
Jeff collected us up to drive to Victoria, the capital of British Columbia. Once again his great sense of humour kept us entertained as he took us to various points of interest in the city. Finally, he dropped us off for a couple of hours so we could wander round the harbour at our own pace. I have to confess that I didn’t know much about Victoria before this visit so I was surprised to find it such an attractive place with a lovely waterfront area. The Empress Hotel is a historic building that dominates the harbour and if I ever visit Victoria again I shall make sure I stay there.
All too soon Jeff turned up with the bus for our return journey. We ate dinner on the ferry as we would be quite late back at the hotel and the rest of the journey was spent relaxing in the lounge.
Once we were back on dry land Jeff left us all laughing with his final sally, “Tipping is appreciated,” he told us in a deadpan manner. “But it is not obligatory. And I don’t accept glass beads or blankets. Those days are long gone.” How could you not leave him with a good tip after that?
That was our last day in Vancouver and we had to be up bright and early the next morning. We were going to be boarding the famed Rocky Mountaineer train rather early. Breakfast would be served on the train.

 

[BillB]

Daisy and Jamrox - Thanks for your PMs, they're much appreciated. I'll try to add some photos soon.

 

[BillB]

There had been a sharp disagreement with Rich the evening before our departure. He announced that we should leave our bags just inside the door to our rooms and the bell boys would come into our rooms while we slept and take the bags for transmission to the station. There was a loud chorus of disapproval. Nobody wanted people coming into our rooms while we were asleep and the inevitable question was posed, “On every other journey the traveller leaves the suitcases outside the room. Why should we have complete strangers coming into our rooms while we are asleep? After all, some people sleep in the altogether.”
Rich told us that this was a big city and bags can get stolen. I told him that I had left our bags outside our room in cities all over the world. I had left them outside in Beijing, Shanghai, Lhasa, Hong Kong, Bali, Chicago, Denver, Washington, DC, and dozens of others. I had never had a bag stolen and I had never heard of one being stolen. “A bag was lost when I was managing a tour 15 years ago,” Rich told us. “It caused me lots of problems.” I asked him what happened. “The bag was found 20 minutes later,” he said. I was beginning to think he had gone completely gaga. A bag had been mislaid and he had decided, on his own, that every tour he managed had to endure people coming into their rooms while they slept because he had once experienced a bag being mislaid. “I’m putting our bags outside the room when I go to bed,“ I told him. “No bellboys are coming into our room while we’re sleeping.” So that’s what I did, and so did everybody else. Nobody lost a bag.
Another one of his ideas was to tell us that we shouldn’t take any carry-on bags onto the train. “Why not?” Someone enquired. “There’s no room in your seats,” he answered. “I’ve seen people sitting scrunched up for the whole journey because they took their bags with them.”
“What are we supposed to do with our carry-ons, then,” somebody asked. “Put them in with the luggage,” was his reply. I had seen the size of some people’s luggage and I didn’t like the idea of them sitting on top of our lightweight bag. “Our carry-on luggage contains our Kindles and our iPads,” I told him and I’m not having them squashed underneath a heap of 20 kg bags. I’m carrying it on.” He shrugged, as if to say “Your loss.”
And so we arrived at the Rocky Mountaineer station. Inside, there was coffee and snacks for the travellers. I took some coffee but the snacks all seemed pretty high carb, so I passed them by. The Canadians evidently think highly of their service on the train and it has to be said that our reception at the station was outstanding. A lady played classics on a grand piano while we sipped our coffee, then one of the directors of the train company welcomed us to the Rocky Mountaineer experience. Behind him we could see this magnificent train sitting on the track in its dark blue and gold livery.
There are three classes on it – Gold Leaf, Silver Leaf and Red Leaf, listed in descending order of quality. We had carefully looked at details of all three in the catalogues and had decided that we would go for Gold Leaf as it seemed like the best option. It was more expensive, but it sounded as if it gave you the best value for your money. Most of our group had made the same decision, though there was one couple who had chosen Silver Leaf and two ladies who went for Red Leaf. The really good news was that Rich was in Red Leaf.
When the director of the company had finished his speech of welcome, a Scottish piper in full kilted rig started piping us out onto the train. We had been told which carriage we would be in and found it just outside the station concourse. We couldn’t have missed it anyway as Gold Leaf is a double decker carriage – passenger seats up top with a glass domed roof and the restaurant car down below.
We were pretty much up the front as we walked the red carpet and climbed aboard our carriage. Once inside we climbed up the staircase to the top deck. Our seats were about two-thirds of the way down the carriage on the left-hand side, and close to the bar (!). The first thing we took note of was that there was plenty of space for our carry-on bag. I marked that one down – I was going to bring it up with Rich. There was space under each of our seats and under the seats in front as well. Once we were all seated the train began to move and Jackie and I got our cameras ready.
The first 20 to 30 minutes we wound our way through the suburbs and industrial estates of Vancouver. The hostesses took this time to introduce themselves and tell us what would happen during our journey. Once they finished their explanations we were called for breakfast – that is, those of us sitting in the front half of the carriage, which was our group. We made our way downstairs and found tables for ourselves. Our group all got on very well together, so it didn’t matter with whom you shared a table as you would invariably enjoy the company. There were three courses to breakfast, as well as fruit juices, water, tea and coffee. With eggs, bacon, mushrooms, etc., I was able to select a nicely low carb meal of omelette with mozzarella and sausage. The unfortunate thing was that the husband of the couple we were sitting with had a filthy cold.
After breakfast we returned to our seats. When the tables had been cleaned and re-laid, the people in the back half of our carriage (Australians all) went down for their turn. Not long afterward our friendly stewardesses came round to serve drinks. At this point friend Rich turned up to “check that we were OK” (why wouldn’t we be?). He was offered a drink by one of the stewardesses and requested a beer. He managed to turn up in the afternoon at drinks time too, and the same the next day. Remarkable coincidence that.
Meanwhile, the scenery we were passing through was growing more and more spectacular. At first we passed through farms and small villages, then the farms grew further and further apart. We were climbing quite steadily and at one point one of the stewardesses, who was giving a running commentary on points of interest along the way, told us that the area we were passing through was so dry that it was officially designated as desert.
So lost was I in the amazing scenery we were passing through that I was taken by surprise when lunch was announced. However, always having been a good trencherman, I went downstairs with Jackie and had a look at the menu to see what I could have. Once again I found that with three choices for each course I was able to navigate my way to a nice low carb selection. There was an interesting variety of wines to accompany the meal and I decided to try a Canadian wine, which gave me a surprise as it was excellent and totally unexpected, given the Canadian climate.
Back in our seats we began to see more wildlife – we had seen elk and bald eagles, but we were told that it was possible to see bears, both grizzlies and brown bears, longhorn sheep, moose or wolves. As we passed quite a few rivers we were advised to watch out for bears here as they come down to the river to drink. Shortly afterwards Jackie spied a bear ambling along a trail, but we passed him at a rate of knots.
Afternoon tea was served in our seats and after that more complimentary drinks were offered. Then at 6 p.m. we arrived at Kamloops, a town whose name means “the meeting of waters” in one of the Indian dialects. It’s so-called because two rivers merge here. As we crossed the river into the station we spied an astonishing sight – a beaver had built a dam between two spans of the bridge, and a couple of opportunistic ducks had made their nest on top of the dam. As we looked down we could see eggs in the nest while one of the ducks stood guard.
We were transported to our hotel and found our bags already delivered to our rooms (amazing service, we thought). On the bus to the hotel somebody asked Rich why he had advised against taking our carry-ons with us on the train. “Oh, perhaps I exaggerated a little,” he answered. We looked at each other and could see that all our thoughts were similar: “The man’s mad.”
Dinner that night was taken in the hotel with some of our fellow travellers and we fell exhausted into bed.

 

[sharonmcl]

Hello Bill I have just finished reading your life story what an interesting and fortunate life u have had. I thourally enjoyed it

Regards
Sharon
South Africa

 

[BillB]

Thank you, Sharon. As you will have read we visited South Africa a couple of years ago and were bowled over by its beauty and the welcome we received. I've always had a soft spot for your country since my Dad spent some time there in the Royal Navy during World War 2 and was "adopted" by a South African family who had him stay with them whenever he had shore leave. They also took him about to show him the sights of the Capetown area. I remember being astonished by the photos he brought back of Table Mountain. I never dreamed that one day I'd stand on the top and look down at the town and Robben Island. We're considering a trip next year to Namibia, or if that doesn't work out then another visit to South Africa.
And as you're a new member, may I say a personal welcome to the Forum. You'll find a lot of kind and helpful people on here who will gladly help you with any questions. Hope to read your posts soon.

 

[BillB]

Once again it was an early start as the train departed at 8 a.m. We were in the same seats in the same coach as the previous day. The biggest difference was that the train was considerably shorter. It seems that the part of the train behind our carriage had a different destination and had been uncoupled and shunted off to another line. This was an advantage to us as there was an open-sided observation deck on the same level as the restaurant. When we had the other carriages coupled we could only see out on either side. Without the other carriages we had a view on three sides.
It was on this deck the previous day that I discovered the latest photographers’ curse: the person using an iPad as a camera. These people hold their iPads out at arm’s length and anyone using a conventional digital SLR has to find some way of shooting around them as they invariably block the view. If you get two of them you can have your view completely blocked. When you’re up against a railing or some other form of barrier the photographer has to develop (no pun intended) a great well of patience.
Meals were in reverse order from the day before. The Australians at the back went to breakfast and lunch first. We awaited our turn and were served coffee by the lovely stewardesses who had served us yesterday. I spent some time taking pictures from the observation deck after I had had my coffee. It proved a good time as the iPad brigade were either having breakfast or taking another cup of coffee.
The train continued to climb and the mountains around us reared higher and higher. We ran alongside a river which had another rail track on the far side. From time to a goods train would trundle past in the opposite direction, and once again I was amazed, as I had been the day before, by the sheer length of them. When I ascended I asked one of our stewardesses, who seemed to be the font of all knowledge about Canadian trains, how long they were. She told me they ranged up to 3 kilometers – an answer that gave me difficulties in stopping my mouth from falling open. Being used to European trains I hadn’t imagined that trains could be that long, but Canada is a vast country so rail must be the cheapest and most convenient form of transport for large volume goods. And not only manufactured goods were being transported. We saw several trains that were loaded with sulphur, while others had oil, steel sheets and coils or fresh vegetables.
When we descended for breakfast the menu had changed but there was still a choice of 3 items for each course. The first course was eggs, which was my choice, and I managed to select some low carb delights from the other courses. I’d managed to keep my blood sugars in check.
After breakfast we continued through the Rockies, awestruck by the majestic peaks that came into view, only to be left behind as we travelled on. As we climbed we saw more and more snow on these jagged peaks, while cloud at the summits became denser. We passed the tallest peak in the Rockies, Mount Robson, which we were told was particularly clear on this day, although there were plenty of clouds clinging to the summit. I’ve travelled all over the Alps and seen a fair bit of the Himalayas, but I’ve never seen as many glaciers as I did from the train that day.
Shortly after we returned from breakfast we were offered free drinks as a prelude to lunch. And sure enough, up came Rich just in time to grab a beer or two. Fortunately, he couldn’t stay as there was no seat for him, so after a while he returned to Red Leaf class and the rest of us were left in peace.
Our stewardess/commentator advised us which birds and animals it was possible to see at this elevation – wild ducks, geese, ospreys and bald eagles – and we managed to snatch glimpses of all of them along the way. We spent some time with our cameras on the lower observation deck which now gave us all round views and we had some magnificent sights to shoot, once we had elbowed our way through the iPad wielders.
After the Australians had eaten it was our turn to descend to the restaurant car for lunch. Once again we had three choices for each course – I chose fish as the accompaniments were lower carb than the steak. We tried another Canadian wine and once more found it excellent.
Midway through the afternoon tea was served with various goodies, which I ate sparingly, and this was followed by more complimentary drinks. I could have found myself addicted to Canadian Club whisky if we had spent a full week on the train.
Early evening came all too soon and the train pulled into the town of Jasper, originally a fur trading post, where we would be spending the next two nights. We left the train for the last time with a sense of sadness as it had such an enjoyable experience. And there, lined up to bid us all farewell, were the entire staff of our carriage who had served us so beautifully. There wasn’t one of us who wasn’t moved by this gesture.
Once again we checked into our hotel, went to our room and found our luggage had beaten us to it. And our room had a view across the rail tracks to the snow-tipped Rockies beyond. Beautiful.

 

[BillB]

As the sun went down the snowfields turned a riotous pink, graduating to lavender then to purple. Shadows stretched slowly across the snowfields. A group of us were outside with our cameras, shooting away as this heavenly light show played its eternal game.
We went inside for a pre-dinner drink and found ourselves in a group of our travelling compatriots. We sat around, chatting and sipping our drinks when in he walked: the inescapable Rich. He sat himself down, uninvited, with the inevitable beer in hand, and proceeded to take over the conversation. We were sitting around the fireplace sharing a sofa and several armchairs. Trying to think how we could escape (yes, we were reduced to thinking and acting like children) when he was called away. We all looked at each other like convicts when someone has inadvertently left the main gate open. It was a matter of a few moments for all of us to move to a table to order a light meal. There was one problem – there were eight seats at the table but only seven of us. Somebody tried to push the spare chair into a corner but Rich turned up, grabbed the chair and sat himself down. Another couple from our group, who were sitting on the side of the room, saw this and were convulsed with laughter. True to form he talked nonstop, waved his arms around and talked rubbish, endlessly. What a glum little group we were when we climbed the stairs to our rooms.
Next morning, after a rather good buffet breakfast Jackie and I decided to take the walk into town, just over a mile, we were told. Jackie found the dry air was drying up the skin on her fingers and she was developing deep cracks across the joints. We could kill two birds here – explore the town and find a pharmacy. The town itself was pleasant with some interesting little businesses. We also found a pharmacy where the chemist couldn’t have been more helpful. After examining her hands, he chose an ointment which would help over the short term, but advised her to see a doctor when we got home. We continued our stroll around the town and found a coffee shop which was part of a chain set up by a famous retired ice hockey player. They specialised in doughnuts and coffee, so I took a coffee, cast a longing glance at the doughnuts and hardened my resolve to be a good boy. Doris, polish my halo. While we were there another couple from our group came in and we chatted for a while, telling each other about the points of interest we had discovered.
We drank our coffees and continued on around the town, stopping here and there in any shops that looked interesting. Jackie bought an attractive fleece that should do sterling service in the European winters to come.
Kamloops still has the air of a frontier town with wooden buildings reminiscent of Wild West films. The vehicles to be seen are predominantly 4-wheel drives as you can imagine. I wouldn’t like to spend a winter up here as the snow lasts for months.
We carried our modest purchases back to the hotel for a light lunch. The walk to and from town gave me the exercise I needed for the day and went to make up for the two days I had been sitting on the train.
After leaving our stuff in the room we entered the bar which was almost empty. As we sat down I noticed that the dreaded Rich was sitting at the bar, nursing a beer and talking to two men. We couldn’t very well get up and leave quickly so we sat there and pretended to peruse the menu closely. We should have left because almost as soon as we took our places the two men talking to Rich got up and left. Rich looked around, his eyes alighting on us, and he made a beeline for our table, beer in hand. My heart sank – but too late to do anything. Without asking he took the other chair and began to talk about himself. I racked my brains to come up with an excuse for leaving but it was no good. Our food arrived but he wasn’t put out, he just carried on talking and waving his arms around. He started on about how well he spoke German as he was of Swiss descent. (I’ve heard that from him at least once a day). We told him that we lived in Luxembourg and he set about testing our German. After a couple of sentences it was obvious that his German wasn’t as good as he thought it was, so he dropped the subject quickly and returned to English. At one point Jackie interrupted him to mention something to me and he jumped around in his seat and gave her a menacing glare. We got through our food quickly and made the excuse that we were going rafting on the Athabasca River so we had to get our things ready. This man has to be the worst tour manager I’ve ever experienced, and is enough to make me give up tours and return to independent travel , which is my natural mode when left to my own devices. We have taken tours more frequently lately as it is the simplest way to visit some of the places on our wish list. To travel across the US, coast to coast by train, would cost almost double if we did it independently, as would our recent trips to the US national parks and our 50th wedding anniversary trip to Indochina. All our tour managers were affable, professional, patient and clear when explaining upcoming plans or optional excursions.
No sooner were we on the bus with our fellow rafters when Rich climbs aboard. “Oh no,” I heard someone mutter. “Is there no escape from him?” Not today, there wasn’t, but he just sat at the back and looked sulky (I think he resented not having the microphone and giving us the benefit of his nonstop droning.
Be that as it may, it didn’t take us long to get to the boarding point on the river. The RIBs (rigid-hulled inflatable boats) were sitting on the foreshore and we were quickly given lifejackets and were on our way.
We couldn’t believe our luck - Rich was in another boat. We all looked at each other and exchanged grins. We had a couple of hours where he couldn’t get at us.
The inflatable sides of the boats were quite high so we had to sit down on them, lift our feet and swivel our bottoms round in a semicircle. Amazing – we were all safely ensconced in our places on board. Our skipper, who carried out Herculean labour with the oars, soon had us under way. Rich’s boat and one other was ahead of us, so all we had to do was sit back and listen to the commentary from our skipper. The river was fairly shallow as it is glacier fed and the thaw hadn’t set in up in the mountains this early in the year. In the summer the river would be 3 feet deeper than now, while running a good deal faster. The mountains soared up around us as we drifted downstream, the river making a relaxing burbling sound over the stones. This was the river, we were told, where scenes from the Robert Mitchum and Marilyn Monroe film River of No Return were filmed. I’ve seen the film a couple of times but I can’t say I recognized any of the locations, so I’ll have to watch it again when it’s on telly.
A couple of times small streams from up in the mountains ran into the Athabasca, and our skipper pointed out that if we ran aground on rocks he would have to get out and push us off. “For that reason,” he said, “I shall be taking the deeper channels.” And as he said that the boat Rich was in ran aground in a narrow channel. We all cheered up at the thought that he would have to get into the icy current, but the oarsman swung over the side and got everybody in the boat to bounce up and down as he worked the boat off the rocks. Once the vessel was under way again the steersman climbed back in and continued on.
In places the snow came down to the water’s edge and we could see where it had been undercut by the current. It is also good water for trout and salmon, we were told. At times it was so silent that it was almost uncanny, with the water barely making any noise at all. Our route down the river took us past mountains, our progress giving us a changing view all the time.
Our journey took almost two hours, time which every one of us found spellbinding. As we reached our destination our boat headed toward the shore where a couple of brawny men pulled us up the beach, allowing us to climb out without getting our feet wet. Our bus was waiting to waft us back to our hotel.
That evening we had decided to eat in the restaurant rather than the bar, as Rich didn’t seem to like paying more than the minimum. I did a swift recce of the lobby to make sure that he wasn’t lurking, as he usually does, but it was clear so we headed straight to the restaurant, determined not to catch his eye should he materialise. My choice of trout fillets with roasted red peppers was wonderful and I accompanied it with a Canadian wine which was also pretty good.

 

[BillB]

Our destination the following morning was Banff and the route to this town took us through the Jasper National Park and onwards in the direction of Lake Louise. There had been an optional excursion from Jasper to see Medicine Lake and Maligne Lake, but they were both so frozen over that our excursion was cancelled. Part of our journey followed the Icefields Parkway to Lake Louise, but that was frozen over as well. Rich grabbed the microphone as soon as he got on the bus and began droning on and on, mostly about himself and his achievements. The Icefields Parkway runs through the heart of the Rockies and we passed a procession of mighty snow-capped peaks and dense forests. There was an awful lot of snow about, and the mountainsides were dotted with frozen rivers and waterfalls, which stood out like pure white fans on the dark rock of the mountains. We stopped off for coffee at Sunwapta Falls, an area where the river is forced into a narrow gorge and comes tumbling and roaring down the length of the gorge. Visitors can follow the river down the gorge for a good length of its headlong journey.
From the gorge we continued on to a point where we left the bus and boarded a snowcoach, a powerful big wheeled vehicle in which we travelled up the mountainside. Rich looked a bit disconcerted that the driver did the talking. But I have to admit it was a pleasant change not to hear his nonstop yammering. Our snowcoach gave the impression that these vehicles would trundle right on up a vertical cliff face, so powerful is its engine and so effective is its 10 wheel drive. We moved slowly up a very, very steep slope and at the top we just tilted over and moved slowly down the opposing very, very steep downward slope. We carried on, winding our way through this mountainous scenery until we arrived at a large flat area where the vehicle stopped. The doors opened and our driver invited us to step out onto the Athabasca Glacier. At last I was going to walk on a glacier, something which had been on my bucket list since I can’t remember when. Jackie and I climbed down and walked a hundred yards or so away from the snow coach. I used my foot to clear the snow which covered the surface and then I looked down at the green ice on which I was standing. It’s 1,000 feet thick, so thick that if it was magically transported to Paris the Eifel Tower would be dwarfed and wouldn’t show above the surface. We took photos of our feet atop the ice, walked around on it and revelled in the experience. Who knows when we would have the chance of walking on a glacier again?
We moved around on the plateau, taking photos and enjoying the views. Finally we noticed that members of our group were making their way back to the snowcoach. No sooner were we settled than Rich rushed off to talk to someone outside. The driver turned to the rest of us and asked, “Shall I leave him behind?” and began to close the door. There was a unanimous roar of “Yessss!!” from his passengers. Unfortunately, he had to open the door again and Rich, totally unaware, climbed back aboard.
The journey down the mountainside was as gripping as the journey up had been. The snowcoach nosed over and began to trundle unerringly downwards. It didn’t slip, it didn’t slide, it didn’t stall. It just carried on downwards to deposit its passengers close to our bus.
We continued on, Rich droning on, until we came to Lake Louise, originally named Emerald Lake, but changed to honour one of Queen Victoria’s daughters who became the wife of the Governor General of Canada. Disappointingly for us, the lake was another one frozen over so we weren’t able to enjoy its legendary turquoise colour.
As we continued along towards Banff, even Rich grew tired of the sound of his own voice and put on a CD of Diana Krall, a Canadian singer and pianist who is married to Elvis Costello. But when it finished he grabbed the mike again and his mouth switched into overdrive. Just in front of me sat a woman with her hands clamped to her ears and a pained expression on her face. She caught my eye and grimaced. I couldn’t think of any way of stopping him, short of shoving the mike straight down his throat.
Eventually we arrived in Banff and pulled up in front of the Banff International Hotel. We all breathed a sigh of relief as Rich switched off the mike and dropped it back into its holder. Little did we know what horrors awaited us inside the hotel. And for the only time on the trip, Rich came through for us.

 

[BillB]

That evening our group met up in the bar, just off the lobby. I have to say that though our room was clean, the lobby and the communal areas have seen better days with everything looking run down and shabby. There was only one young lady serving at the bar, so it took a long time to get our order in and longer still for our drinks to arrive.
Rich listed the excursions available to us, one of which was a helicopter flight through the Rocky Mountains the next day. Jackie and I had been absolutely knocked out by the flight we took in a whirlybird over the Grand Canyon a couple of years previously so we quickly signed up for that. It was due to take place the following day in the afternoon.
Once that was done I went to reception to give them my credit card details so that all my restaurant and bar bills were included on one final tally to be paid when I left. The receptionist (and there was only one) was on the telephone. From the conversation I gathered she was speaking to one of those hotel guests who want to know the ins and outs of a mosquito’s backside before they make a reservation. I listened as the receptionist had to tell her that no, the bed didn’t have a Tempur mattress and, no, the pillows were not down-filled. Eventually I grew bored and signalled to the young lady that I would come back later.
After that we betook ourselves to the hotel’s restaurant where we perused the menu for a long time. The reason for this was that the waitress didn’t come. For the whole restaurant there were only two waitresses. They remained affable and good natured despite the awful pressure they were under and the grief they sometimes received from some of their customers. We managed to order an aperitif and then our meal. We weren’t in a hurry as we weren’t going anywhere else that night. The only blot on the horizon was that I began to develop the symptoms of a cold. Just what you don’t need when you’re due to fly out in 3 days’ time.
Next morning I took a look out the window at the view – a small yard surrounded by high brick walls. The only attractive thing in view was a large pine tree growing a short distance from our window. Last night it had been green but this morning it was pure white. We’d had over a foot of snow overnight – and it was still snowing lightly.
We went down for breakfast and found we were almost the last to arrive. Rich came hurtling out of the restaurant as we approached. We could see our travelling companions sitting in the dining room and almost universally they looked totally, utterly fed up. Rich started gabbling on at us about us being served a “plated breakfast”. What is a plated breakfast? You might well ask. I looked around at our intrepid group. No one looked happy and they all had plates of food in front of them. A plated breakfast, it turned out, was no choice, no menu, no buffet. In the kitchen the staff chucked any old rubbish they had lying around onto plates and dumped them unceremoniously in front of the hapless diner. A waitress came up and slammed two plates, alleged to be food, down in front of us. I looked long and hard. A smear of scrambled eggs, 2 rashers of bacon fried so hard they could break your teetch and a great heap of grated potato, parts of which were burnt jet black and the other parts were white and uncooked. “What’s this?” I asked the waitress. “That’s a plated breakfast,” she replied. I tasted a small piece of the potato. “What is this supposed to be?” I asked. “Hash browns,” she replied. “No, they’re not,” I insisted. The manageress, spotting a troublesome customer, approached rapidly. “Those are hash browns throughout North America,” she blared at me. She must have thought I was the village idiot. “I have travelled throughout North America over the years, and I’ve often been served hash browns,” I told her. “And they have never, ever, resembled this pile of rubbish. Hash browns are raw grated potato, with seasoning and with some added ingredients such as flour, beaten egg or parsley. They are then shaped and fried on both sides until crisp. They are not and never will be this heap of muck. Now take it away because I have no intention of putting that into my mouth.” “That’s what your tour company has contracted for,” she said sharply. “Then they’re going to get a long letter of complaint from me,” I told her.
I turned to Rich and suggested that he get in touch with our tour company and get them to do something about breakfast the next day. Then we left, hungry and pretty mad. Why did everybody else sit there, looking very fed up but with nobody saying a word to the hotel staff. I don’t like to have a go at waiters or hotel workers, but there comes a time when you have to stand up. And I like to remain courteous.
After leaving the restaurant Rich told us that for the present the helicopter wasn’t flying but they would let us know if it was able to take off in the afternoon. In the meanwhile we joined the bus for a cable car ride to the top of Sulphur Mountain whose summit, we were told, rose to 2,281 metres. There is a snack bar at the lower station and a cafeteria at the upper station. My hopes brightened a little – we should be able to get something edible to make up for our lack of a proper breakfast.
At the lower level the snack bar was just that – a small selection of very sweet, very high carb pre-packed snacks. I passed them over, hoping that the cafeteria at the top of the mountain might offer something more suitable.
The cable car was a small, 4-seater cabin in which Jackie and I were lucky enough to be the only passengers. The cable car staff was relaxed about allowing just two people into the cabin as the cars behind us and in front of us also had one or two people each. As we started up, cameras at the ready, we were rewarded with a magnificent view across the valley where Banff sits. We floated above the tree tops watching out for animal or bird tracks in the snow below us. You can imagine how excited we were to see clear signs of bear tracks at one point. Further on we saw some prints that could only have been deer, and a little later we saw the deer who had made them, chewing at the bark of a tree. The snow, I’m told, is too deep for them to graze on the grass below, so they eat tree bark instead.
It was a short, fast ride to the top and once we disembarked we made a beeline for the cafeteria. Once again I was disappointed as everything on offer was high carb. But we were by now so hungry that I had to take the least worst choice – a couple of muffins and a cup of coffee. The breakfast of champions.
After that we went out onto the observation deck to admire the view and take some photos. My luck was well and truly in that morning as I stepped through the door and immediately behind me a minor avalanche of ice and snow slid off the roof and landed right behind me. Part of it hit my shoulder and made me stagger. Had I been a half-second later I would probably have received some serious lacerations to the scalp. As it was, all I had to do was brush the ice crystals off my coat and carry on. And the view was well worth the sudden scare I’d just received. It was still snowing, lightly and intermittently but we could see a reasonable distance.
We kept a lookout on the way down but we didn’t see any more wildlife, not even a deer. Our bus deposited us back at the hotel where we learned that our helicopter flight to the Assiniboine Mountain was not going that afternoon so we dropped our cameras off in our room and went out to find something appropriate for a diabetic’s lunch. We found a small café offering snack lunches where I was able to order an omelette with ham and mushrooms. That was nicely low carb and I felt a lot happier afterwards.
The rest of the afternoon we spent exploring Banff and buying some small gifts. One shop where we spent longer than any of the others was one selling rocks, semi-precious stones and fossil specimens. We both found this place fascinating and were able to buy a fossilised trilobite for our son to add to his collection.
On the walk back to our hotel we stopped off and bought some cold remedies for my developing infection. Once again the pharmacist was friendly and very helpful, picking out sugar free medications for me once I told him I was Type 2.
We rested up in our room for a couple of hours, then freshened up and went down for dinner. The food was good, but the service was slow, slow, slow. In fact we had a unique experience – our wine arrived after we had finished our meal.

 

[BillB]

Our next morning promised to be interesting. When we woke up and pulled the curtains back our grubby little yard was still covered in snow, and it was still snowing lightly. We showered and went down for breakfast to find that we were the first of our group to enter the restaurant. We took a table next to where Rich was talking to the manageress. I’m a shameless eavesdropper when it suits me and neither of them realised we were sitting out of sight but just a couple of feet away. Rich was laying down the law in no uncertain terms. The manageress was insisting that breakfast would include the hash browns that had disgusted so many of our group the day before. Rich, for the first time in this tour, was standing his ground. “Don’t even consider putting that on the breakfast plate this morning,” he told the manageress. “But…” she began. “No,” he insisted. “They will not tolerate your idea of hash browns. Do not put them on the plates.” The conversation went on in this manner for a few minutes. The cook came out and tried to insist that hash browns were part of our breakfasts. Rich was equally adamant that it should not be. A couple of people from our group came down and sat near us. We told them what had been going on, and that Rich was fighting our corner.
The cook and the manageress slunk off to the kitchen and more members of our group took their places. The waitress took our order for tea or coffee. We both took coffee with milk, which appeared fairly rapidly. And then our breakfast appeared. To say I was surprised is to put it mildly. There was a decent serving of scrambled egg, sausage (good) and pancakes with maple syrup on the side. Now, I have to admit that pancakes with maple syrup, while absolutely delicious, are not the diabetic’s first choice for a low carb breakfast. However, I ate the eggs and sausage and a little of the pancakes, with the addition of a small quantity of maple syrup. I convinced myself I was being disciplined.
The next bit of news was that our helicopter wouldn’t be flying that morning, but it was possible that it would be able to in the afternoon. Instead we took a walk through Banff to meet up with our fellow travellers and visit the Native Indian Museum. This turned out to be far more interesting than one would have thought. We went in and had a look around the first part of the museum, but after about 20 minutes we were joined by an Indian guide who took us around the rest of the museum, the part that had various scenes of Indian life before the coming of the Europeans. He was very, very knowledgeable in this traditional way of life. One scene depicted Indians hunting buffalo with bows and arrows, with one buffalo collapsing onto the ground as he was pierced by several arrows. “This scene,” he told us, “is pure Hollywood.” It seems that American buffalo have such thick skins and are so strong that arrows would not be effective in bringing them down. The Indians had a much tidier solution for themselves. They would ride up to the herds, panicking them and driving them towards the cliffs. The buffalo, in full flight, would be unable to stop and would tumble over the edge of the precipice to die at the bottom. This was extremely smart on the part of the Indians, as the hides had no holes in them and there was an enormous amount of meat and byproducts that the Indians used so cleverly. The meat was dried and preserved, the sinews were used as bow strings. Even the horns and bones were used.
He had each of us totally enthralled as he told us stories, explained the history of his people, talked about their relations with the white men and how their lifestyles changed after the white man became dominant. I don’t think I have ever been so beguiled. All of us were in agreement – we were so glad we hadn’t missed this part of the tour.
In the afternoon our flight was again cancelled. In the absence of that we joined the rest of the group for a tour around the area, taking in the Yoho National Park. This proved to be surprisingly enjoyable as the newly fallen snow added a magical quality to the scenery. (We had been to see “Frozen” at the cinema not too long before we departed for Canada and we found the snowy landscapes familiar.)
We stopped off at various spots, one of which overlooked the Banff Springs Hotel, which was the largest hotel in the world when it was built in 1886. Gazing across a valley from the road where we had stopped to see this enormous pile was impressive in itself, but the lightly falling snow and the mist made the hotel look more like a fairy tale castle. At another point we stopped at a lookout point to view a lake, still frozen, with a beautiful island crowned by fir trees.
A little further on our driver stopped when he spotted a herd of deer in the forest just off the road. The snow was a good two and a half feet deep and the deer ignored us as they grazed on the tree bark and planted their feet delicately in the snow. One looked at us curiously as we took pictures without disturbing them. They were still there as we reboarded the bus and left them to their grazing.
The evening brought our farewell dinner at the hotel. We had ordered our choices when we were in Vancouver as it seemed the hotel couldn’t cope with anything less than 2 weeks’ notice. (I’m not surprised – there wasn’t much they could cope with.) But whichever way you look at it, the food was okay. Even Rich, after his stand of the morning, seemed tolerable.
As we descended for breakfast the following morning the lift arrived at the ground floor, gave a shudder and seemed to give up the ghost. I pressed the open button but nothing happened. Our fellow prisoners, a Korean couple, pointed to the emergency phone, which I picked up and found myself talking to the receptionist. I told her the lift seemed to be having a nervous breakdown and wouldn’t open its doors. She told me she could see it on the computer screen and someone would be there immediately. In the meantime, the air conditioning in the lift had closed down and the temperature began to rise. This kind of thing does not please Jackie who can suffer from claustrophobia in these circumstances. Luckily, our rescue was near enough immediate as we had been told and we stepped out into temperate air.
When we recounted this to other members of our group we were told that it had happened to quite a few of them. Later I went on to Trip Advisor and found that this had been going on for several months, but the hotel didn’t see fit to get it fixed. As I said, the whole place was being run as cheaply as possible – too few staff in every facility. It prompted me to something I rarely do – I wrote a letter of complaint to our tour company.
That evening we were due to fly out of Calgary for our journey home. Our bus took us through magnificent scenery until we arrived in Calgary in the early afternoon. We drove around the city, viewing various sights, including the arena where the Calgary Stampede is held each year and the ski jumps built for the Winter Olympics. We stopped off at a skating rink, specially constructed for encouraging young people to take up the sport. There were several separate rinks, and some of them had teams rehearsing for a new discipline- synchronised skating. This looks as if it may develop into a popular sport as teams consist of both women and men who go through their routine together. We watched with fascination as several teams went through their paces.
Eventually, we made our way to the airport where we said farewell to our fellow travellers and to Rich. My feelings were much kinder towards him than they had been before yesterday’s breakfast, and I even gave him a tip.
Our flight home was in a Boeing 777 rather than the 747 that we’re both used to. We enjoyed our pre-dinner drinks and then our meal before lowering our seats to flat and snuggling under duvets for a nice long sleep.
Oh, and the Robert Redford film was still running and I was able to watch the rest of it. I had only missed the last 5 minutes. But if you want to know how it turned out for him, you’ll have to watch it when it comes on TV.
I really have to close this post right now as Jackie is scheduled for cataract surgery tomorrow morning. She has to check in at the hospital at 6.30 a.m., which means we have to leave home at around 10 minutes to 6. And remember – we’re an hour ahead of you so we have to be there at 5.30 a.m. UK time. This is one time we daren’t oversleep.

 

[BillB]

The first two pictures are: Butchart Gardens, Vancouver Island.The third is the Rocky Mountaineer under way while the fourth is Sunset on the Rockies.

 

[BillB]

The first two pictures were taken when we were rafting down the Athabasca River near Jasper. In the third my feet are standing on top of 1,000 feet of the ice that forms the Athabasca Glacier andd the third is of the Banff Springs Hotel, the biggest hotel in the world when it was built in 1886.

 

[BillB]

The first shot is the cable car that took us to the top of Sulphur Mountain. The second is of a sample of the local wildlife. The third is a pretty little river we stopped at just to enjoy its beauty.

 

[NotSoSweet2]

Fascinating! You really need to get this published!

 

[NotSoSweet2]

I am not even a quarter of the way through reading this yet but am mesmorised, it's like a good book that you can't put down. It makes my life seem very dull indeed! I am really enjoying reading it, thank you for sharing!

 

[BillB]

A big thank you to Adelle, Robin Redbreast, NotSoSweet2, Daisy1 and all the other lovely people who have sent me PMs with kind messages. It truly warms the heart. Thank you, thank you and thank you again.

 

[Adelle0607]

Love your stories and photos of your journey @billb, keep them coming.

 

[BillB]

The countdown for our departure to California for a month is ticking away, but the string of disasters that have followed us don’t seem ready to give up on us yet. Our youngest son and his Californian wife have made plans to renew their wedding vows in Las Vegas while we are there. Our eldest son will join us a week before we depart San Jose for Vegas. Younger son has negotiated a package deal with one of the big hotels on the strip to include the ceremony in the hotel’s chapel and a reception afterwards, limousine pickup at the airport and a night tour of the Strip. Jackie and I have opted to stay at the Bellagio and one evening we have booked seats at the Cirque du Soleil with elder son.
Then our daughter-in-law was struck down last week with pancreatitis. She was in so much pain that she was immediately whipped into hospital where she was treated by a doctor that neither our son nor d-i-l were impressed by. Our son’s comment was that this doctor had seen too many episodes of “House”, and she thought lacking any kind of empathy with her patients was the way to go. Her visits with the patient were spasmodic and when the patient needed painkillers the doctor was nowhere to be found. Furthermore, there was no improvement in the pancreatitis. After a couple of days of this our son requested his wife be transferred to another doctor’s list, which duly happened. A couple of days after this, it was discovered that d-i-l was allergic to one of the painkillers she had been prescribed and several of her symptoms were attributed to this. However, the new doctor prescribed new painkillers, and put the patient on a pain relief self-dosing regime. Our poor d-i-l began to improve, as she was able to give herself a dose of pain relief medicine as she needed without having to wait for a nurse to come by. She is being fed through a tube, and fluids are being administered the same way. She has tubes and needles sticking into her upper body where medicines and painkillers are administered. Our son sent us a photo of the stand on which all her fluids and meds are hung while being administered and it was horrific.
The question now is whether she will be fit enough to make it to Las Vegas in three weeks’ time or whether it will all have to be cancelled. At the moment we can’t even hazard a guess. I’ve bought a new suit for the ceremony, the first since the 1990s. I don’t often have need of formal clothes nowadays, and if I get any invitations that require a DJ they are promptly refused at the speed of light.
Jackie and I will be flying down to Nevada on a flight which was booked for us by Claire. From its website the airline looks like the American equivalent of Ryanair, but without the contempt for its passengers shown by the Irish airline. So boarding looks as if it’s going to be elbows out and the devil take the hindmost. I have to confess that I prefer to pay for a little comfort when I’m flying so neither of us is particularly looking forward to this part of the excursion. The good news is that the flight is less than an hour and a half.
And now, with our departure due to take place tomorrow, that flipping volcano in Iceland has started grumbling again. Our fingers are duly crossed.