The maple life

All aboard Le Massif de Charlevoix train

I’m a sucker for a good train journey. I fell in love with Canada on a four night, three day, 2,775 mile journey from Toronto to Vancouver onboard The Canadian on the wonderful ViaRail a few years back. It was a transformative journey in so many ways for me; it was the first time I’d been to Vancouver and I just knew that the city and I would get along (and yes, two years later we moved in together…) it was also the first time I met Marie-Julie Gagnon, a French-Canadian blogger, writer, TV travel pro and all-round splendid woman.

The start of a beautiful friendship…

We’d been at the same travel writers event in Toronto, not met at all and then spent the next few days delightedly discovering that we were absolute sisters under the skin, writer-soul mates with a love of food, spas, cocktails and laughing very loudly. I’ve probably spoken to her almost every day since then and we try to co-ordinate travelling together whenever we can. So yes, I try to see Canada by train whenever I can and if I can see it with Marie-Julie, so much the better. The train which travels to Le Massif de Charlevoix in Québec is quite different from the ViaRail train. This is a privately-owned train which runs on privately-owned tracks, which means, that unlike other train journeys in North America, which are subject to what can be hours of delays as they have to give way to freight, this train runs to a tight timetable. It’s a beautiful shiny, neat train. Huge picture windows so you can watch the impossibly beautiful landscape whizz past.

A few minutes before boarding

We boarded at Parc de la Chute-Montmorency, just 15 minutes drive from downtown Québec City, at 8am we’d arrive at Baie-Saint-Paul at 1045am. Along the way we were served breakfast and got to see the astonishing sight of the frozen Saint Lawrence river and the beauty of the Charlevoix landscape blanketed in snow.

Frozen waves

I’ve never seen a frozen river before; the waves had carved the ice into tiles, scattered on the frosty surface. It seemed unthinkable, impossible, that a river so wide – so vast that I couldn’t see the other side – could freeze, but here it was. The houses on the other side of the river told a story of warm summers ahead though; almost every home had a round blue swimming pool, topped with white snow. Little wooden porches with benches below told me that it got so hot they needed shade and sat out often. We trundled along and I sipped hot coffee and thought about the people who lived out here, far from the city, under this thick blanket of snow, in a climate that was cold enough to freeze waves in a vast river, but had a summer of soft nights and long meals outdoors and all the good food of the region to look forward to.

A syrup-y sweet breakfast

You can stop off at Grande Pointe and ski, or, do as we did, and get off at La Ferme, a modern gem of a hotel that made me feel like I was in the heart of Soho in London, rather than miles from anywhere in the frozen east of Canada. If you don’t want to stay, you can hop back on board at 330pm. Plenty of time to explore the quaint little town of Baie-Saint-Paul, stop to taste its craft brewed beer at MicroBrasserie Charlevoix, have a bite by the fireplace at Chez Bouquet or pick up some art at one of the many galleries and still be back in Québec City by 645pm.

A few miles beyond Baie-Saint-Paul

I’d love to see how it changes in the summertime, to follow the curves of the tracks as the sun sets, there’s a great twilight gourmet dinner package which runs from May till August, with an ‘exquisite terroir meal’ created by the kitchens of the Fairmont Le Manoir Richelieu, picking the finest, freshest produce of the region.

We arrived bang on time. That’s the pity of the private track, I’d happily have sat there, watching this natural wonder for hours. Stunning scenery, great company and no need to worry about driving or getting lost.

I travelled as a guest of Tourism Québec – my views are 100% my own

Find out more:

http://www.lemassif.com/en/train

Hotel La Ferme

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13
Mar 13

Dreams of the Yukon Quest

As I sailed backwards through the air, landing in an undignified heap in a snow drift, I can’t pretend for a second that I felt surprised. I knew I’d fall off my sled. I’d told the others, ‘If someone’s falling off, it’s me!’ And I really wasn’t being self-deprecating. So yes, there I was, with the snow in my face to prove it. Wearily, I propped myself up on my elbows and watched my team of four gorgeous huskies disappear at breakneck speed, past our instructor, and off through the trees.

So now what?

Team Get Nikki Off The Sled

It had all started so well; a beautiful drive half an hour from Whitehorse to the Sky High Wilderness Ranch to start our mushing adventure. We ate, family-style, around the table at the old-fashioned wooden ranch house; steaming bowls of chili with sweet juicy berries for afters. Our instructor Jocelyn was a veteran of the Quest. She’d battled her way 1000 miles in the punishing sub-zero cold with sixteen dogs, made it through the other side from Alaska to Whitehorse. All we had to do was a short 20 km with a team of four. A walk in the park in comparison. “Oh, I’m gonna fall off.” I said, as we walked to the dogs.

You hear them way before you see them; whining and yowling, yapping that high-pitched bark of pure excitement that any dog owner would recognise as the Noise That Spot Makes When He sees The Squeaky Ball. There were some 150 dogs up on the property at Fish Lake. That’s a lot of excited dog noise. Jocelyn showed us the basics of mushing, (put your foot on the brake. No, really. Put your damn foot on the brake) and then how to put harnesses on our teams of four dogs. We took up position behind our sleds, full weight firmly on the brake as Jocelyn attached the dogs to the sled. With a final admonition to take it easy, off we went. I timidly took my heel off the brake a little, the straining huskies jerked forward and I reflexively tightened my grip on the sled handlebar.

This is what a proper musher looks like.

The dogs left in the yard howled their displeasure as we set off. The sleds hissed across the snow, the scamper of the huskies’ surprisingly dainty paws a pattering counterpoint to their excited panting. I know we went past snowy pines, along a track and on to a frozen lake – imagine! Mushing your own dog sled team across a frozen lake in the Yukon! – but I was so obsessively fixed on my feet that I almost saw nothing those first fifteen minutes. You see you’re balanced on two ‘skis’, with the brake in the centre. Lift your foot off one of the skis and then onto the brake, but then you have to work out which side to lean to balance it all out and, of course, where to put your foot back without falling off. I’m not great with this kind of thing. That’s why I knew I’d fall.

But I was loving it all the same. I had an epiphany around half an hour in, I was getting into the swing of it, if I leaned like that then I could go a little faster… this was easy! This was something I could get good at… this was – and then it hit me – this was the story of a lifetime! This English girl, who moved to Vancouver and then tried dog sledding, turned out to be AMAZING at it and entered the Yukon Quest, the most punishing race on earth. Of course, just as I was basking in the imagined glory of passing the finishing line, we went around a corner, I slammed the brake on too hard, parted company with the sled and well, you know the rest.

Blinding sun, blazing blue skies and the dogs. Heaven.

Blinding sun, blazing blue skies and the dogs. I get the appeal.

They had to send a snowmobile to find my team. As I made the humiliating climb into Jocelyn’s sled, frantically apologising all the way, she told me to not worry. It happened all the time. So I lay back and enjoyed the view; the stunning scenery, the excitement of the dogs and yes, admired their skill at being able to run and poop at the same time. We should all be so talented.

Realistically, I’m probably not going to enter the Yukon Quest, but I’m definitely going to give mushing another go. We caught up with my naughty crew 20 minutes later and I managed another hour or so without falling off. By the end my feet were painfully cold and my hands trembling from gripping the bar so hard. We’d done just 2% of what the amazing mushers of the Yukon Quest do. I have so much respect for them and their dogs and after just a short time doing it, I can see exactly why they do it.

Thanks to all at Sky High Wilderness Ranch – especially Jocelyn for being so patient and Ian for rescuing my dogs. I travelled as a guest of Tourism Yukon, however, my views are 100% my own.

Find out more:

Travel Yukon

Get there with Air North

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12
Mar 13

Carnaval in Québec City

In my head, the Caribou candy canes were not so big. Oh, I’d heard about them; a cute Carnaval attraction, filled to the brim with ‘Caribou’, a kind of souped-up mulled wine, spiked with brandy or vodka or both. Perfect for keeping out the icy chill and keeping up the party spirits, I thought a small stripy pipe o’ booze would be just the ticket, but when I was handed what looked like a walking stick, rather than the compact little twig I’d anticipated, I realised I was out of my depth. I was swimming in French-Canadian waters now but it wasn’t like I hadn’t been warned… “They know how to party in Québec” everyone had said and oh boy, do they ever…

I was mesmerised by the skill of the ice and snow statue carvers

Just… wow.

I’d been so excited about attending the Carnaval. For years I’d heard about the bikini-clad snow bathing, the ice sculptures and I’d dreamed of seeing people genuinely enjoying the cold weather rather than cowering away from it as we do in Britain. And it was everything I’d hoped that it would be; parents towed their red-cheeked, snowsuit-ed infants around in lightweight plastic sleds, couples held hands and ice-skated around the park, children shrieked with laughter as they played on the slides and begged to queue up to meet the star of the show, Bonhomme.

Ah, Bonhomme, the spokes-snowman of the Carnaval, who is idolised and adored in a positively Bieber-like fashion. Unlike most mascots, Bonhomme speaks (here he is meeting the Canadian PM), throughout Carnaval he has a hectic schedule gracing parties and doing his trademark high-kick dance at endless photos calls. I walked past a queue of some 100 people, waiting to get a photograph with him.

Queuing to see Bonhomme

Even entry to the Carnival is with a cute little Bonhomme ‘effigy’, I tied it to my trusty Canada Goose and walked through the lyrically-named Plains of Abraham, straight into a winter wonderland. I’d been given a ceinture fléchée to wear, a sash with an arrowhead design, part of the traditional outfit of the French-Canadians in the 19th century. I tied it around my waist, its ends peeking out under my parka. This was my first clue that this wasn’t just a party, the Carnaval had its roots in a more interesting place. Over the speakers, traditional French folk songs played, everywhere, the heavily-accented Québecois French was spoken, make no mistake – when you are in Québec City, you are in the heart of French-speaking French-Canada. You really need to try to speak French. It’s their language and it’s who they are. Québec baffles and fascinates me in equal measure. It feels like another country and its winter celebrations, the wearing of the ceinture fléchée, the pride in its long historical culture and traditions are all part of cherishing that uniquely French side.

Bonhomme’s cheeky snow bath party

It was the last weekend of Carnival when I attended, I’d missed the ice canoe racing and snowboarding, but the ice sculptures from around the world still held their shape and Bonhomme’s Ice Palace continued to shine in the sun under the impossibly blue sky. They’ve built an ice palace each winter since the late 1800s, I stroked the glossy walls of the latest incarnation and thought about how lucky I was to have a warm centrally-heated hotel to go to later and gratefully wriggled my toes in my thermal socks.

It’s official: Bonhomme’s ‘beach’ is open…

The big event of the weekend was the bain de neige, one of our group, a Lonely Planet reporter, Regis, decided to take the plunge – it looked like so much fun! I cursed my sprained ankle… next time. Although my consolation prize was a sleigh ride, something I’d never have done if I wasn’t limping. The bells jingled, the ponies stamped and we were off; I burrowed under the fur throw as we trotted through the snow, up and around the park. I felt like I was in the most romantic of fairy tales, and yes – it was schmaltzy and cheesy and I absolutely loved it.

Cheesy, yes. Fun, definitely

Later that night we watched the Carnaval parade, a whirl of lights and colour, dancing and music. The cold bit brutally at our fingers whenever we de-gloved to take photos. I was amazed to hear French versions of Mary Poppins songs as a float with a flying Poppins wheeled past, accompanied by a dozen dancing sweeps.

Parade time: it got a trifle weird

The final treat of the night was dancing at Bonhomme’s ice palace. Of course, dancing with a badly-sprained ankle is a terrible idea… but an irresistible one after a few Caribous. I’m still limping three weeks later. I can’t help thinking dancing in the snow, zipped up in my coat, having a blast in the minus-whatever-it-was temperature, the lights bouncing off the ice, the music so good and loud and the company so much fun probably has something to do with it… Oh, and that damn candy cane. The size of a hockey stick and full to the brim of hot, sweet, deceptively-strong Caribou… We shared it between us, waved the stick in the air to the music and by the time the hot drink was cold I somehow didn’t care so much about the sprain and the pain.

I think this just about sums things up…

But I got it; when winter is so cold and harsh, when the weather beats you down every day with its intensity, you have to go out and embrace it. Celebrate being alive and enjoy all the good things that living in that climate can bring, connect with your inner snow-bathing, high-kick dancing Bonhomme.

Bonhomme’s Ice Palace

I travelled as a guest of Tourism Quebec, however – as always – my views are 100% my own.

Find out more:

Carnaval de Québec

Quebéc Tourism

I travelled as a guest of Québec Tourism and stayed at the Hilton.

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07
Mar 13

The story of Maggie, her doorway and Rainier Provisions

Pantry full of treats to take home

I heard something over lunch yesterday that made me tear-up over my roast beef sandwich. I was at Rainier Provisions, checking out Sean Heather’s latest Gastown foodie-magnet. Gastown is a tricky district to define. On the one hand it’s Vancouver’s oldest and most tourist-friendly; home to the ‘Gassy Jack’ statue, the singing Steam Clock, cobbled streets and twinkly fairy-lit trees. There are more hipster joints here than you can kick a hackysack at. It’s also home to the Downtown Eastside, where you’ll find more crushing poverty, drug addiction, homelessness and downright misery than any other area I’ve encountered in Vancouver. These two extremes live uneasily side by side. Occasionally, as with newcomer Pidgin, things break out and get weird.

I get it. Gentrification brings its problems between the haves and have-nots but I have to wonder – what would you rather? If it’s a choice between an empty building and no jobs, or a buzzing establishment that makes a conscious effort to give back to the local neighbourhood, well, it feels like a no-brainer to me.

Large room which can be hired for parties

Sean’s been in Gastown for almost two decades. He’s got a solid record of giving back and getting along with his neighbours. Rainier Provisions is next to the Rainier Hotel, a women’s single-room occupancy hotel, which just had a block of federal funding removed. Thanks to Sean, residents get fed, for free, once a week and a similar meals programme has been in place for years at another of his places, The Irish Heather. I got all mascara-smudged yesterday because I was told about Maggie, a lady who’d lived in the front door of the previously-disused building for three years. When Rainier Provisions was being constructed, instead of evicting Maggie from her doorstep home, it was decided instead to give her some security. So they frosted windows on three sides of one of the unused doorways, added a combination lock on the gate and now Maggie has a place to leave her things where she can come and go as she pleases. She says she feels safer now.

That’s what made me cry. So yes, while many talk up a storm about what gentrification may or may not mean for an area and those who are less well-off, I put all my support behind a company that pays more than lip-service to the idea that we all deserve a place in our community and a damn good meal too.

The food? It was perfect.

Oh – the food? Hey, it’s Sean Heather – a by-word for excellence – small producers, local suppliers trying to get along with their foodie dreams, so on the menu, great sandwiches, a daily roast (a huge plateful for as little as $8) and jaw-clangingly great ice cream from Vancouver’s finest, Earnest Ice Cream.

Love at first lick with their salt-caramel

Pop in for a meal, or to stock up on deli items like East Vancouver’s Moccia Urbani, D-Original Sauage Company, Germany’s Drews Driessen, and England’s Neal’s Yard Dairy. Take an empty bottle to fill up on peppery olive oil and choose a treat from the towering pantry shelves. And say hi to Maggie if she’s home.

I ate here as a guest of Rainier Provisions. As ever – my views are 100% my own.

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07
Mar 13

On the hunt for Northern Lights in the Yukon

All the conditions were perfect. It should have been a dazzling display…

One of the major draws of the Yukon is the possibility of seeing the Northern Lights. I’ve dreamed of watching the night sky dance with colour since I was a child. I had high hopes for this trip to Whitehorse; there were “elevated activity” signs on the aurora forecast site, the skies were clear and all the conditions seemed right. But nature is a fickle thing and it turns out that the Yukon Northern Lights have decidedly diva-ish tendencies.

I won’t pretend I wasn’t disappointed when they failed to show, but compared to last time when I tried my luck in Iceland and froze my butt off shivering outside a bus in a deserted field, this trip was definitely more welcoming. Unlike many Aurora tours, instead of chasing the lights, Northern Tales have a camp set up, around half an hour beyond Whitehorse, far from the light pollution of the town. All the creature comforts that you could possibly need are there, from a crackling campfire to heated yurts and a slightly alarming drop-toilet.

There was something rather comforting about being tucked away in the warm, our hosts were boiling maple syrup on the stove to make maple taffy lollies, I sat and warmed my hands on a mug of cocoa and felt, well, not as sad as I thought I’d feel. I kept popping outside, to sit on a chair in the snowy field, to get my frosty fix of staring at the sky and feeling the bitter bite of cold air. After all, if you get a great reward like dancing lights in the sky shouldn’t you have to suffer a little first? I stared until my eyeballs got cold; every once in a while, I could see the clouds part; the stars twinkled and the more I stared, the more convinced I was that I could see… something. It felt like the sky sighing. Something moving and shifting and shimmering. And then disappearing again.

Turns out I am terrible at drawing hearts

Our hosts were phenomenal; born cheerleaders and optimists, we stayed out till past 1am, hoping that our diva would show. They made snacks and hot drinks and even entertained us shooting slow-mo light shots… but no northern lights. I just read this morning that according to NASA, the ‘Solar Maximum’ – the summit of the sun’s 11-year cycle of activity, which gives the best Northern Lights – has shifted from May to autumn. That means it’s not over yet between me and my quest to see those dancing lights. If there’s a yurt and a campfire, turns out I’m happy to keep on chasing…

I travelled as a guest of Tourism Yukon. My views are 100% my own.

Travel Yukon

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06
Mar 13

All hail the Alaskan King Crab

I love it when things come together. I went to a party last week and shared a lift home with Alexandra Gill, a food writer I’ve been enjoying reading for a while in the local paper, the Globe and Mail. I was telling her about my plans for ‘Asian Month’ a dine-around of ten different Asian countries and their cuisines in Metro Vancouver. (I’ve been inspired by walking around my new neighbourhood, the West End, in a few short blocks you could eat your way around Asia and I planned to make a good start by setting myself a target of ten new-to-me styles of cuisine by mid-April). Alex said that one thing not to miss was the short but oh, so sweet season of Alaskan King Crab. We swapped numbers and a few days later, I got the call… The Crab Had Landed.

I was caught unawares, so this is a rather terrible photo. Apologies.

I drove across Vancouver to Marpole to the Red Star Seafood http://redstarvancouver.com/en/ restaurant to join a table of 12 crab aficionados and had probably one of the most exciting meals I’ve had for some time. I’ll confess; I know less than nothing about Asian food, so very nearly every mouthful I ate that night was new to me and – apart from the red bean soup for dessert, which I found watery and rather weird – I loved it all. There was a great deal of intense discussion about exactly how much crab we needed. The largest was a 10 pounder and that wouldn’t be enough for our group but it seemed that the consensus was that two smaller crabs wouldn’t yield enough meat, so a large and a small was decided on. Then, a seemingly-furious debate kicked off about what else to have and how to have it. I sat back, beaming as the melodic Cantonese washed over my head.

Sweet, juicy and fragrant with garlic

The crabs were bought to the table in a huge bowl, waving their spiny legs. OK, so I didn’t expect them to be alive but hey – at least you know it’s fresh! One of Alex’s friends, Lee, was born in Hong Kong and was incredibly kind answering my questions all night, he told me that ordering was important; there needed to be a balance of cooking styles, of heat and spice, of vegetables, fish and meat – it would be a bad meal if everything was cooked the same. Imagine applying this to European or North American dining styles – so many meals are ‘a roast’ or a fry-up – greedy gal that I am, I love the idea of mixing everything up.

Knuckles delivered a powerful spicy kick

We had the crab five different ways; its legs came first, butchered into little cigars, served with steamed minced garlic. It tasted sweet and buttery – all from its own juice. Next my favourite, the crab knuckles fried with spicy garlic chips ‘hurricane shelter-style’. There was so much juicy meat, it was almost like a chunky cod goujon, but eye-poppingly hot. The knuckles were also cooked a second, milder way with spring onions, ginger and ‘first draw’ soy sauce.

Sweet and mild with ginger

A noodle dish next, delicate noodles tossed in crab sauce, then a Portuguese baked rice dish, sweet with coconut milk and flecked with crab meat. The noodles and rice were presented at the table, stuffed into the head of the crab and then taken away and bought back in small bowls. Two different vivid green veggie plates, pea tips with garlic and gai lan (chinese broccoli) with ginger. Lee showed me the care that the chefs had taken as every single stem had a small leaf attached, just as it was meant to. Beautiful.

I love that there is no waste at all

I was dizzy with food at this point. Everything so new and so delicious. We also had a peking duck, first the skin with pancakes and a plum sauce, then the rest of the duck, chopped which went into a crisp lettuce leaf with another spoon of that lip-smacking plum sauce. Finally, the best sweet and sour pork I have ever tasted. I’ve never enjoyed Chinese food in the UK – and yes, before you say so – undoubtedly I was just going to the wrong places, but it feels like there are no wrong places to eat Asian food here in Vancouver. The city has an almost 20% Asian population – that means the different Asian foods available are going to be authentic, fresh and plentiful. This is a great start to ‘Asian month’ – I cannot wait to see what else this city has for me to tuck into and I’m already excited about the arrival of the King Crab next year.

I’d happily have tucked into this all by myself

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04
Mar 13

Thrills and Spills at Valcartier Sliding Park, Quebec

Ow. The spill that came after the thrill…

I lay on the ground, my ankle crumpled beneath me, pain so sharp I pressed my face into the snow and tried hard not to throw up. No dazzling ski injury for me though. No heroic face-planting after some daredevil antics on the slopes, nope – typically, for a klutz like myself, I had fallen awkwardly and sprained my ankle trying to get up from an inflatable rubber ring at a ‘tubing’ park.

So much fun. Sit back and enjoy the view!

Injury aside, if you’ve never been tubing before, I cannot recommend it enough. We drove 20 minutes north of Quebec City to visit Valcartier and I loved everything about it; in the summer you splash around, having fun in water under the blazing sun. In the winter, when the temperatures plummet and the snow lies thick on the ground, they turn it into a sliding park so you can whizz down the slopes on huge rings, zoom around an ice track in mini-racers and enjoy treats like gravy-soaked poutine and fresh-made maple syrup lollies poured over snow to set.

Snowy-chewy super-sweet maple syrup lolly

They have 35 snow slides, an insane snow raft run where you hurtle down an icy slope at alarming speeds flying out of your seat as you sail over bumps and a crazy circular ‘tornado’ raft which spins you around as you power down the hill. For 50 years, this park has been making kids and adults screech with excitement and they recently welcomed their 13th million visitor. It’s old-fashioned, unashamedly low-tech fun with a family-friendly vibe and if you’re ever visiting Quebec, it’s an absolute must-do.

Madness. But terribly addictive!

So, it’s two weeks later now and I am still limping after my bad sprain, but you know what? Worth it. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Next time I’ll just fall out of the ring, rather than trying to get up…

I travelled as a guest of Tourism Quebec. As always – my views are 100% my own.

For more info:

Valcartier Village

Visit Quebec

Quebec City Tourism

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03
Mar 13

The Yukon: What to do in Whitehorse

Transformative. That’s how a friend recently described the Yukon and I think she’s right. You get the first clue that things aren’t going to be business as normal at the airport gate. As I sat, checking my phone and sipping coffee, I realised that almost everyone around me was chatting to each other. Was it a group outing? No. It’s just one of those places where everyone seems to know everyone and if they don’t – well, they’ll introduce themselves.

Even the carrier, Air North, are hands down the most friendly I have ever flown with; ridiculously polite and cheery, they handed out fresh baked banana and maple loaf for breakfast onboard which set me up for arriving in Whitehorse with a smile on my face. One of Canada’s three territories, far up north, the Yukon experiences brutal sub-arctic weather. Snow blankets the ground for months on end. Biting sub-zero temperatures are normal for months. The days are short throughout winter; you need layer after layer of clothing to simply get down the street without freezing. Thick soled boots, warm gloves, a hat. Just getting ready to go out is exhausting.

Out for an early-morning walk, crunching through the snow

But oh! When you do… there is so much to be excited about. I found the light extraordinary, the colours dazzling, the strange physical sensation of feeling painfully cold oddly exhilarating. There’s a lot to do around Whitehorse; from Northern Lights spotting and learning to dog mush to going ice fishing or taking a plane sightseeing over a glacier. But don’t discount Whitehorse as a place to explore, it’s full of surprises…

1. I’ve written before about my long-suffering journey to find some decent coffee out here in Vancouver… sorry, Canada, you roast your beans too much for me! All the coffee that people rave about seems… burnt to me. So try to picture my delight when I took a sip of Bean North at the uber-funky Baked cafe and discovered heavenly just-right, perfect-roast coffee. I may have to get my beans sent from the Yukon in future as these are superb.

BEST coffee in Canada to date. Thanks, Bean North!

2. Bear with me on this. It could have been post-dog sledding-euphoria, or maybe just the giddy come-down after the amazing start of the Yukon Quest race but I really recommend you visit Duffy’s Pet Store on Alexander to check out their harness and dog bootie room! OK – where else in the world are you going to have the chance to browse harnesses for your dog? I spent a happy ten minutes imaging that Freddie was a sled-dog, we’d go whizzing across the tundra! I could imagine his little paws in the fluorescent booties, alas (or possibly for the best) after the Quest they were all out and only had the sensible black ones, so after one last moment of sled-fantasy, I left, bootie-less.

How could I not fall in love with this as a look for my dog, Freddie?

3. You don’t expect to discover fiery Caribbean cooking in the frozen north and yet walk into Antoinette’s on 4th Avenue and that’s exactly what you’ll find. I loved the funky dining room – bold reds on the wall and colourful art work – and the spicy flavours were just what I needed to warm up. The lime and chilli-spiked king prawns were so damn good I found myself greedily sucking the shells to get the last juicy drops. Gorgeous.

4. I’m a sucker for a local museum. I like the contents to be as random as possible, I love the feeling of being catapulted into another world entirely, getting to see other people’s interests and obsessions. In fact my favourite museums of all are those that clearly are the result of an enraged partner bellowing, ‘That’s ENOUGH! Get this crap out of my house’ and the collector yelling back ‘I’ll start a MUSEUM… It’s not crap, I’ll show you… I’ll show everyone!’ - I’d like to point to the Chocolate Museum in Biarritz as a particularly fine example of this – all moulds and posters and no apparent point. I was fascinated by it. The Macbride Museum takes this to a glorious daft place with the ‘Cluttertorium’ I read the sign “…from the 1950s to the 1970s the museum simply put as many artifacts as it could in a random display… the Cluttertorium is designed to give visitors access to portions of the collection” and scrambled down the stairs. Fantastic! A pair of joke underpants, a plait of hair, spectacles… no rhyme, reason or connection except the Yukon. I adored it.

Any day I get to go to a museum like this is my best day.

5. Using local products, inspired by the northern boreal forest, the Aroma Borealis herb shop sells gorgeous hand-made skin care and herb teas and makes for a good stop-off for gifts. I love their ethos of using Northern wild plants alongside organically-grown herbs and essential oils from around the world to create natural herbal bodycare. The Sweet Slumber crystal rock salt bath salts are fantastic.

I travelled as a guest of Tourism Yukon, as always, my views are 100% my own.

Find out more: Travel Yukon

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25
Feb 13

Canada Goose: staying warm in freezing cold Canada

Minus 26 degrees. So cold that when you breath your throat hurts. So cold that you suddenly realise that funny feeling in your nose is all the little hairs freezing. So very painfully cold that although the morning light as you crunch through the densely packed snow is breathtaking, and you want to take photo after photo, you can’t because your glove-less hand begin to hurt after about 20 seconds and after a minute it burns and aches until you have to admit defeat.

Stunning light but oh! Too painful to take many photos.

I’m from the UK and I’m completely unused to such frozen temperatures. Living in Brighton doesn’t prepare you for the harsh conditions of the great white north, so when I knew I was going to be travelling to the Yukon and Quebec, I had a small panic – what on earth would I wear?! I had snowpants and thermals but I knew my jacket simply wasn’t up to the job. So I asked a few Vancouverites and they all said the same thing: “Canada Goose”.

I did a bit of research and they do sound like the perfect fit for me on my quest to keep everything I do as Canadian as possible. I especially liked this quote from their web site about keeping their production in Canada: “Cold weather is part of our national identity… We’re proud to have Canadians rely on us for protection in unspeakably cold conditions. We stay in Canada because that’s who we are.” I just love the idea that yes, to be Canadian is to live, work and play in really cold weather… I’ve come around to the idea living in basically sub-aqua conditions in ultra-rainy Vancouver, that if I stay at home and wait for good weather I’ll never leave the house! So I put waterproofs on and go and have fun.

It’s a SERIOUS coat

I contacted Canada Goose and explained that I wanted to do a spot of road-testing and they very kindly sent me a parka. When it arrived I realised that this was a SERIOUS coat. Canada Goose have a 5-point ‘Thermal Experience Index’ so you can work out if you need a light jacket or something for more hardcore arctic activities. My ‘Dawson‘ parka is in the ‘extreme’ category, good to -30 “field-tested for the coldest places on earth.” There is something awfully scary and exciting at the same time reading that. I slipped it on in my toasty-warm apartment, struggled with the zip (it took a few weeks to loosen up) and then looked at myself in the mirror. I liked it. I looked ready for all kinds of arctic action!

As it’s a SERIOUS coat, it’s packed with gizmos, I adore the genius addition of shoulder straps in the lining, so I can carry the coat on my back like a rucksack when I’m indoors so I don’t overheat and easily slip it on before I go outside. I got asked twice about this in the airport by curious women – it’s a really cool idea. As is the fleece in the chin guard, which if you snuggle, goes right up to your nose. I suspect I may still be finding pockets in this next year…

This guy is about to drive 1000 miles with huskies across the arctic. He’s wearing Canada Goose. Case closed.

So – how did it cope? Well, when I arrived in the Yukon for the 1000-mile Yukon Quest race, I wasn’t the only one Goosed-up and I think that tells you everything you need to know. All the locals had Canada Goose jackets and the tour companies hire out scarlet jackets to visitors. My eyelashes may have iced up and my fingers felt like they’d snap, but the rest of me was cosy. I could play out in the snow all day long – even lying in it for two hours taking photos – and not feel cold. I’ve learned that it’s not about bad weather, it’s about having the right clothes – and for winter in Canada that means one thing: Canada Goose.

Loving the Goose…

3 comments
22
Feb 13

Rainy days and Vitamin D: winter in Vancouver

Yesterday I felt like winter might almost be over. I saw my first crocus; a tiny pop of purple just around the corner from my apartment on English Bay. When I took Freddie out for his late-night walk I spotted daffodils, tightly wrapped in their buds, waiting for that warmer breath of spring air to tempt them to show off their nodding butter-yellow heads.

Purple shoots of spring

I went home with a smile on my face. I’d made it. Got through my first west coast winter, which had been so much harder than I’d imaged it could have been – and it was mostly all my own fault.

This was all I saw for most of January. Ouch.

Everyone told me that the rain and grey skies would be hard. “Take Vitamin D” urged locals, but I smiled to myself and thought well, maybe they needed supplements, but me, with my well-balanced diet? Surely not. And then came the endless days of non-stop torrential rain, serious rain – we think we have it bad in the UK, but London has around half the annual rainfall of Vancouver. HALF! And then there’s the weeks of the sun never really making an appearance thanks to late rising around 830am and early setting around 430pm and the low lying cloud covering any rays.

I felt tired all the time. Grumpy. Peevish. And then came the day when I didn’t want to get out of bed at all. I just lay there, scowling at the gloom and feeling utterly hopeless. I didn’t want to get up. What was the point? What was the point in anything?

My hero

Something about this dismal state of affairs rang a bell, I could remember reading up something about the symptoms of D3 deficiency. The exhaustion, the depression, yes – maybe this was a chemical imbalance, not me losing faith in life. I dragged myself out of bed to the nearest London Drugs (not being sarcastic – that is the name of a chain of Canadian chemists!) and bought a pack of liquid D3 and a multi-vitamin. Took a shot of both and went back to bed.

Ok, so there was less blood and I don’t have that fierce bob but you know what I mean…

Around six hours later something rather amazing happened. I felt like that scene in Pulp Fiction where Uma gets a shot of adrenaline to her heart. My eyes flew open, I felt flooded with energy, I felt happy and vital and alive again. And that is how it’s been ever since. I take my vits three times a week and even though Vancouver tricked me with it’s whole ‘oh look, it’s spring‘ thing yesterday (it’s beyond revolting again today), I feel fine. And more than that, I feel like I got through a rite of passage. Spring is on its way, the flowers are making their way through the cold hard earth and now, like all good Vancouverites, I know that I need regular shots of D3 to get my head back above ground too.

Yeah. So it turns out it’s *not* spring after all…

All aboard Le Massif de Charlevoix train

Dreams of the Yukon Quest

Carnaval in Québec City

The story of Maggie, her doorway and Rainier Provisions

On the hunt for Northern Lights in the Yukon

All hail the Alaskan King Crab

Thrills and Spills at Valcartier Sliding Park, Quebec

The Yukon: What to do in Whitehorse

Canada Goose: staying warm in freezing cold Canada

Rainy days and Vitamin D: winter in Vancouver

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