Along the Icefields Parkway

It was yet another day without breakfast as we woke early to a sparkling morning again. We were picked up by Sue of SunDog Tours who spent the day driving us to Jasper. Not that it’s so far from Banff – it’s just that the route is along the Icefields Parkway, which Nat Geo has placed fourth on its list of the world’s best 10 alpine drives, and it's not for rushing. I don’t think I could cope with the other three: it was hard enough today gawping at the peaks and the glaciers, marvelling at the brilliant blue of the lakes and rivers, trying to do justice to photos of waterfalls, and keeping a close watch out for the wildlife, from roadside to cliff to treetops.

We did see plenty of animals today – a grizzly in the trees, big horn sheep and mountain goats by the road, ground squirrels at our lunch stop and elk and chipmunks here at Jasper Park Lodge where we’re cosily tucked up in a log cabin just along from where the Queen stayed in 2005. Mostly, though, it was the mountains and their thick caps of glaciers that took centre stage, especially the Columbia Icefield where we were driven up onto the Athabasca Glacier.

It had clouded over by the time we got there and the top was a white-out, but we ground up to the glacier anyway, first in a bus and then the snowcoach with huge tyres and a powerful engine, able to cope with 1:15 gradient on ice. We stepped out gingerly onto the ice, but it wasn’t slippery and, even better, there was a patch of blue above the top step of the glacier. Soon the sky was clear again, the ice was dazzling, and the water running from it was eerily blue (and delicious, once it had warmed up a bit – glacier ice may be ancient and pure, but it’ll give you brain-freeze if you drink it straight off). It was well worth being fodder in a large and efficient tourism operation to get up there.

Back on the road there were mighty waterfalls and lots of peering into the tops of aspen trees for black bears, and a fair bit of bumping on tarmac that has to cope with -30 degrees in the winter, but finally we arrived in Jasper. We won’t see much of the place at all as we’re out of town at this lovely log-cabin resort where chipmunks scoot under the tables on the terrace and there’s apparently a resident grizzly on the golf course. Makes a mockery of calling a sand pit a hazard, I reckon.

Hi-def Banff

No time for breakfast today – we were straight out on a SunDog Tour of Banff that left me feeling the town is like Queenstown on steroids, in HD. The towns are very alike, surrounded by mountains, on the shores of a lovely expanse of blue water, the buildings are neat and stone-built, and they’re busy with tourists – but it’s all so much bigger here. The mountains, the river, the hotels and resorts, and there are more visitors here, from more places. And the air! On a warm sunny morning as we had today, with the bare peaks still streaked with white snow, the edges were so sharp and clear, the details so crisp, that it was like high definition in real life.

We did the usual Banff sights: the Bow Falls (not actually as impressive as Huka), the Sulphur Mountain gondola, which was high and fast and took us to a magnificent panorama of mountains, Cascade Mountain towering and distinctive, Mt Rundle an extraordinary example of uplift. Then there were the trees again, the billions and zillions of trees, mostly pine but also including poplar and aspen. There were lakes, hot springs, reflections and waterfalls: all postcard-perfect on a warm sunny day.

Then I made up for my disappointment last week at Seward, and went on a 3-hour Spray River trailride on Marshall, who had a streaked dark-blonde mane to die for but an irritating tendency to drift to the right under bushes; and whose intermittent jog I’m blaming for the actual blister on my behind tonight. But it was glorious to be out in the pine-scented woods, with only birds and distant train whistles to listen to above the clatter of hoof on rock, following narrow tracks through the tall trees and crossing the blue river twice, washing off all the mud from the extraordinary ‘mud steps’ cut by the horses themselves. So never mind the blister, I’m mollified now.

Rocky Mountaineer to Banff

After yesterday's disappointment, it was shake, rattle and roll all day today, from an early start at the railway station in Kamloops all the way through to our arrival in Banff at 7pm - which is not the same as dinnertime, because after a day on the Rocky Mountaineer, the last thing you need is another meal.

We travelled Gold Leaf class and had a wonderful time, sitting in spacious seats at the back of the end dome carriage, so we had a 360-degree view horizontally and 180 vertically. Just as well: the scenery was terrific. Mountains, lakes, tumbling rivers, endless forest - I've never in my life seen so many trees - blue sky above, bridges and tunnels, snow sheds and other trains. We didn't want to miss a thing, and nor did we, as even while dining we were able to slip out to the open viewing area behind at a moment's notice.

The service was cheerful, efficient and generous: the bar opened at 9am ("It has to be 5pm somewhere") and the food was really delicious and beautifully presented. The commentary was interesting and informative, there were hot towels and biscuits still warm from the oven, and the only disappointment were the famous spiral tunnels, since you can't really appreciate them from inside. There were deer and eagles, geese and elk, and most wonderfully of all, a bear: big and close, too briefly glimpsed for a photo but assuredly there in all his ursine glory. Great trip!

Kamloops compo

We were a little slow on the uptake yesterday (blame 7 days of assiduous unwinding on the Silver Shadow) so it didn’t occur to us to wonder until this morning why we weren’t taking the coach to Kamloops instead of flying, since at least that way we would see some of the route we were missing on our cancelled Rocky Mountaineer trip, day one. Obedient as ever, we were just doing as we were told by our minders – but, as it happened, within minutes of thinking of it our minds were put to rest by Tara here in Kamloops, who assured us that the best of the rail trip was assuredly still to come. So that was all right.

And, in compensation, we had an afternoon exploring Kamloops that we wouldn’t have been able to do had today’s rail trip not been made impossible by a rogue derailment (is there any other sort?).

So first of all we went out of town to the BC Wildlife Park, where David showed us the mostly indigenous, mostly rehabilitated animals in their natural and spacious enclosures, including 3 black bears happily wrestling, two wolves, a lynx and two cougars contentedly dozing in the long grass, some busy raccoons, an even busier badger, a poser elk called Thunder, a couple of young grizzlies hunting for hidden food, and a pair of dainty coyotes. We learned some interesting and useful stuff: take it from me, you never want to risk getting vomited on by a turkey vulture.

Then there was some sad stuff to do with the Secwepemc people, who for the best part of 100 years had their children taken from them by the Church who wanted to ‘Christianise, civilise and assimilate’ them. Sound familiar? Australian Aboriginal stolen generation all over again, except worse because for longer. Sigh.

And then I wandered around a leafy suburb of Kamloops, charmed by the pretty mock-Victorian and Arts & Crafts houses with their shingles and verandas and tapered pillars, their shutters and stained glass and pastel colours, and their cottage gardens bright with peonies and irises. Finally we had a tasty dinner at Quattro Bistro, excellent from start to finish – and that’s not just the Marlborough wine speaking. As compensations go, today was one of the better ones

Plan derailment

I’m rather kicking myself that it was only on the last night of our cruise that I remembered to ask Kripesh the butler (graduate of the English Guild of Butlers, natch) to supply me with a different pillow from the available menu, the extra soft one with the silk pillowcase and the lavender sachet in the corner. Bliss! But then came the cruel parting from the Silver Shadow, dragging our feet ashore, knowing that some other smug couple would be sleeping in our bed tonight. Sigh.

At least, though, Vancouver was putting on a bright and cheerful face for us this morning, the sparkling harbour buzzing with little flight planes nipping over to Victoria. We checked in to the Fairmont Hotel Vancouver, a splendid and very grand old lady with a French chateau roofline in oxidised copper, marble floors, high ceilings and upper-end shops in the lobby, as well as a large and comfortable room. A Canadian Pacific Railroad hotel originally, she fits neatly with the next stage of the trip, which is the Rocky Mountaineer to Banff, via Kamloops.

Best-laid plans... Turns out there was a derailment on the line today so tomorrow we have to miss the first day’s journey and instead fly to Kamloops. Disappointing, certainly, but these things do happen – and I’m heartily glad it’s not my job to rearrange the itineraries of all those passengers.

Instead, I spent the afternoon gliding around the roads and byways of the city, taking an Art Wheelers bicycle tour of Vancouver. Dan, Josh and Matt escorted me along cycleways and the sea wall, stopping at some of the many art installations throughout the city, from sculptures and statues to street art and advertising to architecture and parks. It was a perfect day for a bike ride, and I did enjoy it (no real hills to speak of) – though possibly even better was being one of the locals, out relaxing in the sunshine, sneaking through lanes and past pretty gardens that I would never have found by myself.

First time unto the breach

Our last day on the Silver Shadow, sniff, and it dawned more typically grey and damp – in fact, a grey-out at one stage, the sea merging indistinguishably into the sky. But there were compensations. One was a speed-merchant dolphin hurtling through the water after prey, performing a nifty figure-eight movement after some presumably panicked but doomed fish. Then there was the land, an ever-changing outline of hill and beach, but all of it swathed in green. Never in my life before have I seen so many trees.

They, or the logging rafts, had shed so many logs into the water that it was hugely frustrating to us whale-watchers staring at the sea as conscientiously as any sailor from a century ago. Again and again I thought I’d spotted something, and it was only a bit of wooden flotsam providing a handy resting spot for a couple of gulls. But then there was a humpback, spouting noisily as it cruised away from the ship.

Really, I wanted orcas. Humpbacks I’ve seen often enough not to be that excited any more – but then, after lunch, I was standing on our veranda looking out at the glossy water as we slipped along the Inside Passage between the mainland and Vancouver Island, and saw more than just spouts. There were two small humpbacks, busily breaching, over and over, which I’ve never seen before, though others on the ship, doing different excursions, had had exhibitions of, close up. They were beyond the limits of my little zoom lens, but still, it was great to see.

So that was exciting, and coming an honourable 3^rd in the Trivial Pursuit tournament was mildly satisfying; and then dinner at La Terrazza was delicious tonight, in good company, by the window with the sun slipping down behind ranks of hills and peaks, a sliver of a thumbnail moon above and a fernleaf trail of rippled, coloured water below. It was just a shame, that it was all for the final time.

Zippidee-doo-dah

After a blessed lie-in this morning, we cruised into Ketchikan on yet another blue and sunny day, hanging over the rail spying on the captain as he manoeuvred us – skilfully - towards our berth. He was focused, but we were shamefully distracted by humpback whales spouting and diving between us and the shore, amazingly barely 10 metres from land. And then there were the float planes and helicopters bustling in and out of the inlet, and the fishing and crab boats, and the other cruise ships (big and ugly compared with Silver Shadow’s svelte form).

The town is known for its rain: if it’s not actually raining, it will in half an hour – but not today. The multi-colours of the houses and town buildings were bright in the sunshine against a backdrop of Sitka spruce and western hemlock trees, with white peaks beyond. There was time for a quick trot around the prettiest bit, Creek Street, lined with little wooden houses perched above the creek: from the beginning, offering services. Now it’s sheer tourism, but back in the early 1900s it was a place where, as they say, both the salmon and the town’s menfolk came to spawn.

My excursion today was out of town, past the totem poles and moored fishing boats, in Herring Bay where the salmon have just started their run, though the bears were AWOL today because it was so warm. I was there for the ziplining: eight runs high in the forest from excitingly (and unexpectedly) un-guard-railed platforms built around the tree trunks. It was a lot of fun, with added eagles, and we girls were much better at it than the blokes, who swivelled and got stuck and earned no points at all for style. We all enjoyed ourselves, though, and it made a nice change from what’s been up till now quite a sedate experience. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.


Then it was dinner on the pool deck, filet mignon self-cooked on a hot rock at the table, rugs over our knees and a serviette round our necks, while the sun slipped down with far less drama than last night, and there was, finally, as the BBC shipping forecast has it, ‘precipitation within sight’. It makes no odds with us, though – we’ve had the sun where it counted. Then a Motown concert, and bed again, rocked to sleep like a baby.