A beautiful Kootenay weekend brought out more than 2,500 onlookers to take in the action at this year’s Bootleg Gap Sled Dog Races in Kimberley.

Kimberly's Bootleg Sled Dog Races raised close to $18,000 for the East Kootenay Children’s Fund. Photo courtesy Bruce Kirkby

“We had three less competitors than last year,” explains a grinning event volunteer John Boucher, “but at least two of those were in Whistler doing Olympic duties, so we can’t complain.”

The event, which included a silent auction, raised close to $18,000 for the East Kootenay Children’s Fund. This money will help cover expensive travel costs for children and families who need to travel for treatment.

The success of this event sure gives the many organizers, racers, and volunteers a lot to wag, er, brag about.

Lead photo courtesy Bruce Kirkby

by Jim Sutherland

1. Movement toward mininalism is … minimal

Last spring Westworld magazine published an article I wrote on the minimalist movement in golf design — the trend toward rougher-hewn courses more reminiscent of Scottish links than the suburban country club style popular in North America. Prominent examples include Oregon’s Bandon Dunes, Tacoma’s Chambers Bay and Richard Zokol’s new Sagebrush, near Merritt. However, it appears golfers will have to wait awhile for other B.C. examples, which have been sideswiped by the current slowdown as well as more specific issues. It will be two or three years at least before anyone gets to play Union Bay Golf Links, south of Comox, designed by Gil Hanse (Golf magazine’s current designer of the year); and the design of Blackstone, near Fernie, appears to have been shifted to Greg Norman’s firm from that of David McLay Kidd (Bandon Dunes). There is a flipside to all this, however. Zokol’s Sagebrush was originally intended to be exclusive. But last summer, and again this year, he opened it up to “invitees” (which means anyone who asks). The course is just up the hill from the Quilchena Hotel, B.C.’s oldest, which offers basic but very characterful accommodation at a reasonable price. Playing Sagebrush is a treat, and the deals ain’t bad either, all things considered.

2. Clip those coupons, name that price

Over the winter, through judicious coupon clipping and by sticking to twilight golf, I averaged about $10 per round. Obviously no-one can pull that off during the summer, but operators are getting more and more aggressive with pricing and discounting, especially during off-peak hours and when the weather is poor. One I spoke to for the BC Business article told me “If you want to play golf, we will try to find a time and a price to suit,” which practically invites haggling.

3. Competition from south of the border

One reason operators here have to be flexible is the situation in Bellingham, where the economy is poor, the courses are emptier and the cost to play not much more than half of the norm on our side, given the strong dollar. If border waits don’t intervene, the parking lots at courses like Shuksan, Semiahmoo and Avalon will be crowded with B.C. plates this summer.

4. The environmental imperative

Sustainability hasn’t exactly been a buzzword in the golf industry, and indeed there are more than a few golfers who like the idea that their footprint is bigger than yours. But change is in the air. All the operators I spoke to for the BC Business article wanted to talk about the little things they were doing to make their courses more environmentally benign, though none of them mentioned the much bigger things that are just around the corner. Especially in the U.S., there’s a new mantra, currently being promoted by USGA president Jim Hyler: “Brown is the new green.” Courses are being urged to cut back dramatically on the use of water and chemical inputs, a movement that has the triple-threat advantage of saving money, promoting sustainability and making the game more fun to play, thanks to those fast, firm fairways. Golf Digest magazine has even just changed its course ranking criteria to reward exactly those kinds of playing conditions, in effect penalizing courses that are too lush and overwatered. Golfers: do us all a favour and complain about the conditions the next time you arrive somewhere to find the fairways all manicured and weedless.

Read my lips: No new courses

That’s right. As far as I could determine, not a single brand new course is certain to open in B.C. this year. There are several in the works, mostly in the Interior, and a couple might be playable later in the year, but developers are going slow — very slow — as money is tight and prospects are poor. That said, so many courses have opened in recent years that no-one touring B.C. will feel deprived of fresh experiences. My own list of favourites includes Sagebrush (see above), Kelowna’s Tower Ranch, Salmon Arm’s Canoe Creek and Rossland’s Redstone.

Lead photo courtesy Jim Sutherland.

by Andrew Findlay

The Courtenay River estuary is an ecosystem under siege – hence the formation of  the Estuary Working Group back in 2008 to bring together environmental groups, individuals and government to safeguard this biologically diverse heart of the Comox Valley.

Estuaries form where rivers greet the sea, forming a rich interface of fresh and saltwater that teems with life. These biologically diverse bodies of water are also where humans generally settle, because they are where nature tends to be at its most generous, and the waters of the Courtenay River estuary are no exception. Five species of salmon, blue herons, bald eagles, loons and trumpeter swans, as well as many more migrating waterfowl and shorebirds, frequent the estuary itself, while on its fringes, incoming freshwater braids into numerous channels that thread through tufts of pondweed, Widgeon grass, Lyngby’s sedge and cattails.

And when the tide is out, the sprawling mud flats of the estuary are revealed, along with evidence of a remarkable, extensive pre-historic First Nations fishery, supported by a vast system  of cedar-staked fish weirs in chevron, spiral and other patterns. Some of these stakes date back more than 500 years, a testament to the important role the estuary has played in sustaining life in the region. Ingenuous in their simplicity, these fish weirs worked in a way that allowed First Nation fishers to collect as much fish and other seafood as was needed without the rapacious practices expensive fossil fuel-powered fishing fleets, which are the hallmarks of modern commercial fishing. In this way, the estuary and the  peoples who lived off its abundance for generations hold valuable lessons about sustainability.

Today, the estuary is also the watery link between the municipalities of Comox and Courtenay, two rapidly growing communities that are putting increasing development pressure on this vital ecosystem. However, the environmental degradation of the Courtenay River estuary is not a new problem. For many decades the Courtenay River has been dredged upstream to allow for the passage of tugboats, log booms and barges, destroying vital salmon habitat in the process. And more than 20 years ago, municipal governments authorized the construction of a Superstore on prime agricultural land upstream of the estuary, opening the door to intensive big-box and strip-mall development on adjacent properties. Invasive species such as Himalayan blackberry and purple loosestrife have also altered and damaged the natural plant communities associated with the estuary. And shellfish harvesting in Comox Harbour is permanently closed because of contaminants such as fecal coliform. Most recently, a fierce battle has been fought over a proposed gas station on Dyke Road, which runs next to the estuary between Courtenay and Comox.

In many ways, it is argued that the estuary defines the Comox Valley both topographically and spiritually, making it easier, perhaps, to take this ecological treasure for granted. It’s just there:  we see it, we drive by it, we boat on it. And this is why the Estuary Working Group is encouraging Comox Valley residents as well as visitors to get reacquainted with the estuary through non-motorized recreation, whether by foot, paddle, bicycle or sail. Putting on our walking shoes and rollerblades, or saddling up a bike on the paved trails of the Courtenay Air Park, for example, provides an unparalleled shoreline view of the estuary, while paddling it by  sea kayak imparts a last sense of the power and beauty of this natural system, as one experiences close up the freshwater of the Courtenay River mixing with the sea in Comox Harbour. Harnessing the energy of the wind in a sailboat enables the adventurous to venture further, out into the bay, for an even greater perspective on the scale of the estuary and the interconnectivity between terrestrial and marine ecosystems in the valley. The message is: only by getting out to smell, feel and experience nature can we appreciate it, and this is key to a healthy future for the Courtenay River Estuary.

>>For more about the Estuary Working Group and its Courtenay River Estuary efforts, click here.

Lead photo courtesy Andrew Findlay.

The super-short pieces (none longer than 15 minutes) run in continuous, rapid rotation around a central lounge area. The audience wanders around the warehouse and chooses which performances they wish to see. It is virtually impossible to see all 12 bits in a single evening, but guests have a lot of fun trying.

HIVE: One of the strangest, most invigorating, chaotic experiments in the history of Vancouver’s live theatre scene. Photocourtesy The Electric Company Theatre

Two years ago, at HIVE 2, I saw four actors in a shadowy room perform a post-apocalyptic skit that cleverly morphed from frightening to hilarious. (Cozy Catastrophe by Rumble Productions & Theatre Melee.) I then stumbled into The Box Show by Felix Culpa, a play set, literally, inside a giant cardboard box. From there, I strolled across the warehouse to watch a surreal drama unfold down a narrow corridor (The Flannigan Affair by The Electric Company). The evening continued that way with small clumps of audience members bouncing from one bizarre vision to the next.

HIVE nights always end with live music, with this year’s lineup of eight Canadian indie bands including The British Columbians, Rich Hope and The Sadies.

HIVE 3 runs March 11-14, 17-20 at 577 Great Northern Way. Tickets are $25 for adults,
 $20 for students/seniors.

Lead photo courtesy The Electric Company Theatre.

The Politeness Awards: And we thought the Canadians had that one down pat

“A smile denotes warmth, openness and friendliness. Smile gently and with sincerity. But be careful not to overdo it. False smiles can look artificial and never-ending smiles can invite suspicion.”

Instructions from Reverend Sun Myung Moon to his Moonie recruiters? No, this is a passage from Vancouver’s Olympic Protocol Guide, as distributed to 600 city staff members who have been reassigned to Olympic duties during the 2010 Winter Games.

The 120-page handbook offers tips on a wide range of protocol issues, including seating arrangements, proper conversation topics and personal grooming. It is supposed to ensure that our civic workers behave properly while dealing with the bevy of visiting politicians, royalty and business tycoons.

The grooming details are quite specific. For example. “Hair should be kept tidy yet stylish. A neat appearance isn’t enough. You must be exemplary all the time. Others will infer qualities of your [city] from your appearance and behaviour.”

“Never dress in clothes that are too tight,” it reads. “They make a slim person look gaunt and a large person look heavier.” Short socks are another fashion faux pas. As the guide astutely notes: “If they are too short, they may show bare leg when you sit down.”

Bare leg! My god, how offensive.

Under a section titled “Humility” the guide instructs: “You never say, ‘That’s not my job.’ There is nothing too demeaning, too demanding or just plain beneath you. If you are not comfortable opening car doors, holding umbrellas or pitching baggage, then you need to find another job.”

Evidently, complete submission is demanded.

The handbook also instructs civic employees to “remember that Protocol Smile.’ It ought to get larger the worse things get from your perspective. Let them think you are in complete control.”

Those assigned to dignitaries are warned: “You may get close to certain dignitaries and spend a great deal of time with them. But remember: you are not their friend and you are always on duty.”

Good advice if you ask me. Don’t be taken in by those chummy handshakes and phony regal smiles.

The manual goes on to say: “Look your best – smile, be confident, cheery, upbeat, positive. Even if you are nervous and unsure if what you are doing is correct, do not let the dignitary see that side of you.”

The guide also advises that people stay hydrated, take bathroom breaks whenever there is time, avoid jangling the change in their pockets, and avoid talking about politics, religion or marital problems.

Avoid jangling change in your pocket?

This may sound like a joke, but it isn’t. Taxpayer dollars were spent producing this advice, though exactly how much it cost to prodcue the manual has yet to be revealed. Presumably this unsightly detail would be filed under (section 5.8) “Embarrassing Situations,” where the guide advises: “Try to move the individual out of hearing range of others, and quietly tell them, ‘Your trousers’ zipper is open.’”

If you feel an urgent need to brush up your etiquette, you can view the contents of the Olympic Protocol Guide on Flickr: www.flickr.com/photos/citycaucus/sets/72157623282871864/show/

Remember: the whole world is watching.

First came the wine, beer and apple cider food pairings, and now . . .  flights of mighty leaf?

by Jeff Bateman

The art of bellying up to the bar takes on new meaning at the Silk Road Aromatherapy and Tea Company in Victoria’s Chinatown. Co-owners Daniela Cubelic and Nancy Larose are offering not only 100-plus leafy imported blends, a dazzling collection of tea accoutrements and green-tea spa facials, but also an in-depth education at the world’s only linger-and-learn tea bar.

“Tea has enough distinct aromas, flavour profiles, colours and complexity that it deserves the same respect as wine,” says tea master Cubelic. Weigh the vegetal hints of a Japanese green, for instance, against the malty hues of an Assam from northern India. Or ponder the difference in a pair of smoky gunpowder teas, one from Sri Lanka, the other China’s Zhejiang province. As to affecting the air of a connoisseur: Gently inhale the steaming bouquet, then sip slowly, swirling liquid over tongue before swallowing. 250-704-2688

Related info:  >>Vancouver Olympics’ Centre A World Tea Party >>video: How to Make the Perfect Tea

Photo courtesy Silk Road Aromatherapy and Tea Company

From tea parties as “social sculpture” to beer gardens as theatre – new twists on the classic definition of “art”

by Jim Sutherland

One of the pleasant surprises stemming from Vancouver’s Olympics has been the aesthetic sophistication. Things didn’t look promising back in Torino in 2006, given the contrast between the Italians’ amazing closing ceremonies and our kitschy yet overwrought log-cabin presence, but that was pretty much the last misstep. The Olympics 2010 architecture is solid, the logo, slogan and overall corporate identity work well and, hey, the mascots are delightful. True, the opening ceremony had its Spinal Tap moments, but the artistic direction and design were sound. And there’s also a lot to like about another crucial Olympic element, one that is often overlooked: the cultural component.

For example, consider the World Tea Party that’s running through March 21 at Centre A, a gallery of contemporary Asian art directly across the street from Pigeon Park in Vancouver’s Downtown East Side. For these six weeks in March, the art will come down from the walls and the gallery will turn into a teahouse “animated” by Vancouver artist Brian Mulvihill, who created his first such event back in 1993. Mulvihill has since served tea at dozens of locations around the world, including to as many as 17,000 people – that was in 2000 at the Hollywood Bowl in Los Angeles with the Dalai Lama. So it’s a locally conceived idea that’s become a global institution: what could be more appropriate for Vancouver’s Olympics?

Right, but, as the old question goes, is it art?

Well, as Centre A curator Hank Bull explains, Mulvihill’s tea parties are an example of an increasingly common and important art variant known as “social sculpture” or “relational practice.” Obviously, art is not just painting and sculpture, which is how the term was largely defined until well into the 20th century. First, disciplines such as photography and film began to trickle in, and since the 1970s the trickle has become a flood. Today, a better definition of art might be: art is whatever artists decide to make or do.

Of course, artists don’t get to retain their arbiter jobs if their work doesn’t stand up, and the opinions of viewers as well as peers and critics ultimately decide whether it does — something to keep in mind should you find yourself at one of the art events in this week’s Top 5: Best Examples of “But Is It Art?” Olympic Art.

1. World Tea Party

According to its organizers, the World Tea Party is based on the idea “that humanity shares in the drinking of tea a spirit of generosity and understanding that both celebrates and transcends our cultural diversity.” In other words, this tea party is a “social sculpture” with an interactive aspect that makes it a suitable vehicle for a debate about the relationship between the Olympics and the Downtown Eastside, where the gallery is located. That’s the art argument. The tea argument is that there will be dozens of varieties of the mighty leaf  (some of them “special” teas of the sort enjoyed in Chinese restaurants before the advent of relaxed licensing laws), served in dozens of different vessels, in keeping with dozens of different customs from around the world. Video: How to Make the Perfect Tea  >>Victoria’s Silk Road tea shop

2. Kamp

In this presentation by the Dutch troupe Hotel Modern, puppeteers manipulate thousands of tiny concentration camp inmates and their keepers as others in the troupe roam around filming it all with miniature cameras. The action is then beamed onto a giant screen as part of the PuSh International Performance Festival. But is it theatre? It would be if there were dialogue, a plot and characters, but there are none of those – so maybe it’s closer to Is-It-Art?

3. Vectoral Elevation

Mexican-born physical-chemistry grad and electronic artist Rafael Loxano-Hemmer criss-crosses the globe creating large-scale interactive installations in public spaces. In Vancouver he’s installed 20 robotic searchlights along the shores of English Bay, where Internet participants from around the world are granted an opportunity to design their own kinetic light sculpture by manipulating the beams; performances are then captured on cameras as a lasting memento. So is it art or is it just really cool? Most in the art world would side with the former.

4. The Western Front Front

The Western Front Gallery happens to be situated in an early-20th-century building. And for the Cultural Olympiad, artist Reece Terris has installed a grander false front on this already existing false front — something of a commentary on the role real estate and real estate fluffing has played throughout Vancouver’s history. It’s not much of a stretch to call this art, particularly as the artist’s most recent show involved installing a six-storey apartment in the rotunda of the Vancouver Art Gallery. But if the Western Front building suddenly sports a “For Sale” sign, we’ll know it was really something else: home staging.

5. The Candahar

Inside a Granville Island theatre sits a meticulously detailed re-creation of an Irish pub; viewers can walk in and, oh, order a beer. A skeptic might object that there’s a pub just like that in pretty much every suburb, but those ones weren’t created from scratch by a bona fide artist named Theo Sims and don’t involve the participation of big-deal Vancouver artists Stan Douglas and Rodney Graham and writers Michael Turner and Timothy Taylor. So is it art, or is it just a pub? It’s definitely a fine place to argue the question.

Photo courtesy Jim Sutherland

How I built an eco-shed, ditched my SUV, alienated the in-laws and changed my life forever

An excerpt from Almost Green, by James Glave  (Greystone Books, 2008)

What it means to be an eco-warrior/father of two

My name is James, and I drive an SUV. It is a golden-pearl Premium Edition Lexus rx-300, with all-leather interior, genuine walnut wood dash, seven-speaker Nakamichi sound system, seat heaters, moon roof and sport racks. It is a high-riding icon of luxury, a mobile conspicuous-consumption statement, a prosperity public-address system – the sort of vehicle that valets named Chip park in front of five-star Indian fusion restaurants. Let me be clear, though, that the rx-300 is not an indication of my hard-won success as a writer. It’s a hand- me-down from my father-in-law, who offered it to my wife, Elle, and me as a gift just as our 1994 Volvo station wagon threatened to die with our two tired babies in the backseat some night on a lonely New Mexico byway well beyond the fringes of Sprint-Verizon’s digital safety net. Although we are extremely grateful for the gift, the Lexus was perhaps not our first choice for a family four-door; it conveys a not-entirely-accurate message about who we are to those who don’t know us.

This became clear to me one day when I had lunch with my friend Dave, a former colleague whom I greatly admire. It had been a few years since we’d seen each other, and we were sharing a laugh over a certain local restaurant critic whom we both felt could benefit from a little more journalistic backbone. Dave was describing his most recent sighting of the foodie scribe in question: “I’m sitting in this sidewalk café, right? And up pulls you-know-who in this total asshole Lexus suv.”

Hilarious. For at least a few months after that day — at least when out of earshot of our small children — Elle and I referred to our pearl-white and gold-trimmed palace on wheels as “the asshole.” And please forgive me, Padre. Because even though you have that framed photo of George Bush, Sr., in your office, and even though you forward me e-mails asserting that global warming is a “swindle” and a “liberal conspiracy,” I do really love you, and I so appreciate your generosity. But the more I read up on the damage I am doing each time I motor through another tank of regular unleaded, the more I can relate to Dave’s point of view and the less comfortable I am getting back behind the wheel. Because I am the one running a scam. We have hung on to your wheels for reasons that contradict our gradually increasing consciousness and have everything to do with cash flow and guilt. We don’t want to offend you, and
we don’t want to finance something else. I don’t think we can keep dancing like this forever, though. One day I’m going to have to break it to you, Padre, that I think your very generous gift is gradually torching the lot of us.

For now, assuming Pops doesn’t care either way, Elle and I are looking to downsize. With the kids now out of strollers and diapers, we’ve finally decommissioned our bulky toddler infrastructure. We are in the market for a small car. I’ve brought my preschool-age son, Duncan, and his five-year-old sister, Sabrina, into the loop, and they have already begun window-shopping with me as we tool around the twenty-five-square-mile island we call home, just off the sparkling West Coast city of Vancouver, B.C., Canada. One recent morning, on the way to the day care, my son asked me to explain the differences between our six-cylinder white elephant and the zippy little DaimlerChrysler Smart Car that had just passed us headed the other direction.

“Dad,” he asked, “why don’t we have a Smart Car?”

Let me briefly mention here that, like many young boys, my Duncan is infatuated with internal combustion. If it drives, digs or flies with some flavor of refined petroleum, well, he’s all over it.

“They’re fun, aren’t they?” I replied. “We don’t have one because they’re too small. There isn’t enough room inside one of them for our whole family.”

“Why not?” Sabrina chimed in.

“Well, there are four people in our family, and the Smart Car only fits two people. So we would have to take turns or sit on each other’s lap, and that wouldn’t work very well, would it?”

“Oh. ok.”

I could have left it there, but I didn’t. “It is possible to have a car that’s too big, though. Mummy and Daddy think this car is too big. That’s why we are hoping to trade it for a smaller one.”

“Why do we want a smaller one?” asked Sabrina.

“Well, honey, you know how we always stop at the gas station to buy gasoline? This car is pretty heavy – it’s much heavier than it needs to be – and so it uses up more gas than a Smart Car. Gas is expensive, and it is also very bad for the Earth.”

“But Dad,” said Duncan, “why is gas bad for the Earth?”

Long pause here. Jesus, where do I begin?

“Hmmm. Ok, when we burn gas it makes the car go, but it also makes the Earth get hotter. And we’re worried that if we burn too much gas, the Earth will get too hot, and it won’t be such a nice place to live when you two grow up.”

“So our car is too heavy for the Earth?”

“Yes, that’s right. We want to get a smaller car that all four of us can fit inside – one that uses less gas. One that’s nicer to the planet.”

“But not a Smart Car?” confirmed Duncan.

“Right. Not a Smart Car. There are lots of other kinds of smaller cars out there.”

“What kind of car do you want?” Sabrina queried.

“Well, Mummy and Daddy would really like to get a car called a Prius,” I said, offering to point out the next one we passed.

“A Prius? Why do we want that one?”

“Because it doesn’t use as much gas, so it’s nicer to the planet. And we can all fit inside one.”

“Why don’t we get one of those cars right now?”

“Um, they’re expensive. They cost too much money for us, sweets. But we’ll figure it out. In the meantime, we are trying to use this car less. That’s why we walk to the village together so much.”

“Oh,” replied Sabrina. “Oh, yeah.”

I grinned to myself. Duncan was hopelessly obsessed with fuel injectors and transmissions, but his older sister had just made the right connections in her head. She’s a smart cookie, this girl of mine. I was proud of her, and proud of myself for explaining that our present vehicle wasn’t so great but that answers were out there. I’d slipped in an age-appropriate explanation of climate change, without coloring in the whole grim picture.

Then Sabrina chimed in again with a pearl of wisdom that put all my eco-angst into perspective the way only a precocious five-year-old can.

“You know what, Dad?”

“Hmmm?”

“I have a vagina.”

“Yes . . . ?”

“But Duncan has a Prius!”

Continued on GLAVE.COM

See also: Gone Newfie.

Stikine: The Great River (excerpts + an update)

by photographer Gary Fiegehen

An Introduction

SPECTRUM RANGE – looking north to Mount Edziza. The mountain has a 7,500,000-year history of volcanic activity and is part of the circum-Pacific Rim of Fire, which continues almost uninterrupted from southern Chile northward around to New Zealand.

The modern history of the Stikine watershed is shaped by a belief in material riches. Russian fur traders in the 1790s were the first Europeans to see and identify the Stikine’s estuary. In the mid-1800s fur traders were joined by gold prospectors, who followed the Stikine towards the interior in the hope of sudden wealth. This first gold rush came to nothing. At the end of the nineteenth century the Hudson’s Bay Company set up its first permanent Stikine trading post 12 miles below Telegraph Creek. At about the same time, the gold rush of 1897-98 brought a flood of people to the Stikine. Photographs from the period show tough men at a wild frontier.

Soon steamboats were moving up and down the Stikine, bringing supplies to Telegraph Creek and other staging points. This flurry of activity lasted a very short time. The last steamer travelled the Stikine in 1916. The gold rush faded into romanticized history. The fur trade settled into a routine and minor activity. Dreams of agricultural expansion, railways, new towns left a thin trail of incomplete developments.

SPECTRUM RANGE Billy goats are solitary by nature. The first winter usually claims half of the young males and females; the survivors mature sexually at two and a half years and reach full size at age four. A full-grown billy weighs 90-plus kg. The horn grows in length each year, making the goat progressively more attractive to big-game hunters.

But developers vaunted other developments: coal, roads, more gold, hydroelectric dams. Telegraph Creek again became a supply depot, this time for the construction of the Alaska Highway in the early 1940s. In 1972, the Stewart-Cassiar Highway was opened, linking Kitwanga on the Skeena River with Watson Lake on the Alaska Highway. BC Rail attempted to bring a railhead to mining possibilities in the Stikine headwaters.

The watershed is vast, and developments thus far have come and gone or touched only its edges. But the very wildness of the place excites the frontier mentality. No one who works in or with the land can be unaware of ideas that encourage a sense that all real wilderness is doomed.

In another sense, Gary Fiegehen’s photographs [shown in this post, as published in the book Stikine: The Great River] have a place in the struggle for Indian rights. They portray the land of the Tahltan, the people whose hunting, fishing and trapping territories announce that this is not a nature beyond culture.

TWIN GLACIER, STIKINE ICECAP Part of the Coast Mountains, granite peaks 2,600 metres high poke through the 1,200-km ice field. Hoodoo Glacier and Twin Glacier feed the Iskut River to the south; Porcupine Glacier feeds the lower Stikine to the west.

The Tahltan are now centred at the villages of Iskut and Dease Lake, on the Stewart-Cassiar Highway, and Telegraph Creek, below the Grand Canyon of the Stikine River. They are Athabascan-speaking peoples whose economy is a mix of hunting across vast areas and salmon fishing concentrated at specific locations. Their goats, bear, caribou, moose, deer, beaver and groundhog, as well as their berries and furs, come from the lands that Fiegehen’s photographs reveal. Their salmon come from the lower stem of the river. Timber for houses and carvings comes from the forest edge. The obsidian from which they once made knives came from Mount Edziza.

The Tahltan homeland is dramatically defined, but theirs has probably never been a culture of isolation. Trading links connect them with neighbours on all sides – with Tlingit to the west and north, Nisga’a and Gitskan to the south, and interior Athabascan peoples to the east of them, on the other side of the Continental Divide. Exchange of oolican oil, dried salmon, obsidian and berries was part of an intricate regional intercultural economy that depended as much on inland trails as on river and coast travel. Exchange, travel and, at times, warfare are strong elements in Tahltan oral history. In this history the people’s use and knowledge of the Stikine is recorded and celebrated. The names of mountains, creeks and village sites, along with the histories of family names and titles, give life – cultural, human life – to every part of this landscape.

–Hugh Brody, Stikine

A Call to Action

Stikine River Country is raw wilderness. Its headwaters region, the wildlife-rich Spatsizi Plateau, is North America’s equivalent to Africa’s Serengeti Plain. In its mid-region, the mighty river continues to deepen the spectacular 100-km-long Grand Canyon, which has only once permitted the passage of humans. The Stikine’s estuary, with its broad-fanned delta of layered silt, is a vital and irreplaceable migratory bird stopover along the Pacific flyway.

SPATSIZI MOUNTAIN Spatsizi is a Tahltan word meaning "Land of the red goat." Goats roll around and bed down in the iron oxide dust, changing their normally white coats to red.

But this beautiful country will remain wild only if there is massive effort by the citizens of Canada and the U.S. to keep it that way. Mount Edziza and Spatsizi Plateau Wilderness provincial parks and the United States’ Stikine-LeConte Wilderness Area currently protect portions of the Stikine, but saving the rest of the watershed will not be easy because of the enormous push by industry and government to develop its resources. Unless public pressure to preserve the Stikine grows, the earthmovers will go to work, destroying the wilderness bit by bit as economic conditions permit.
The gravest threat is the system of dams proposed by the BC. Hydro and Power Authority – two on the Stikine and three on the Iskut River – and the construction of reservoirs, roads and transmission lines that will accompany the project. According to B.C. Hydro, the need for power from the Stikine is inevitable as the province’s population grows. The company has already spent $40 million in engineering studies on this megaproject. Conservationists know, however, that encouraging private and corporate citizens to become “power smart” would be a much better solution.

The region is also threatened by mining. Thousands of claims exist at present, some of which could become viable as soon as road access is available. In the summer of 1991, without public review or adequate environmental analysis, construction commenced on a major road into the heart of the Golden Triangle area of the Iskut – the Stikine’s major tributary. Conservationists would like the Stikine to contain only small, air-accessed underground mines that concentrate on the highest grade of ore and operate according to strict pollution abatement regulations.

Logging is another serious problem in the Stikine. In 1989, the B.C. government proposed the establishment of a “recreation corridor” that would hide logging from river viewpoints but do nothing to curtail it. The short-term profits to be made from logging the watershed are far outweighed by the long-term costs of destroying the wilderness.

courtesy Gary Fiegehen

Over the past decade, tens of thousands of supporters have joined forces to fight for protection of the Stikine. In 1988 we proposed that a National Park Reserve be set up, a move that would stop industrial development while safeguarding native land claims in the area. But our efforts have not been enough. We need you to join us.

Stikine country is too previous to squander. It is a place for wildlife to flourish – and a place for you to make a stand.

–Paul George, founding director, Western Canada Wilderness Committee, Stikine

Fast forward to 2010

Twenty eight years after first experiencing the Stikine I continue to return whenever I am able. I watch with trepidation as new mines are developed, some with access roads that have a habit of turning into logging roads, as our government pushes a new power corridor up Hwy. 37 to facilitate them.  And I watch with hope when the Tahltan with public support were able to repel Dutch Royal Shell out of the Sacred Headwaters and – at least for now – stopped methane gas extraction from the headwaters of the Stikine, Spatsizi, Klappan and Skeena rivers. I hope that 28 from now and 128 years from now there will still be a free-flowing river with an intact watershed and people are still able to know the wild. I also hope folks will inform themselves by googling Cassiar Watch and Pembina Institute, then vote for whomever represents their values.

The photographer  >>Photographer Gary Fiegehen first encountered the Stikine in the early 1980s, then spent five years consumed with photographing it. He travelled on horseback, by canoe and on foot. He went in all seasons, searching for images that would convey the power and majesty of this ancient land as well as his own intense responses to it.

The book   >>Stikine: The Great River, by Gary Fiegehen (1991, Douglas & McIntyre; $25). Available at gfiegehen@uniserve.com

Related Reading >> Northern B.C.: The Last Wild River >> Northern B.C.: Swim the Skeena

All photographs: Gary Fiegehen

Breaking bread with B.C.’s culinary queen

Notes toward a screenplay based on the life of Kathy McAree (think the book Eat, Pray, Love, as directed by Alfred Hitchcock): In 2001, while recuperating from surgery after a car accident, a 33-year-old woman spends a few weeks as a slow-food traveller in Europe. What happens while she’s there – the tour of Spain’s Basque region with the Texan chef, the armed man on the French night train, the 9/11 attacks, the Puglia cooking school in Italy – changes her life forever.

In an area roughly the size of Belgium, Vancouver Island has more than two dozen wineries, five artisan cheese-makers, two Old World ciderhouses, wild seafood galore and farm-raised everything: beef, chicken, duck, lamb, water buffalo, even emu. Courtesy Tourism Vancouver Island/ ChrisCheadle.com

Fast forward almost a decade and McAree is head of Travel with Taste, B.C.’s first culinary tour operator – leading locals and international travellers into the West Coast food culture of Vancouver Island. Her specialties: walking tours in her home city of Victoria (“urban foraging,” as she calls it) and longer treks to the farms, wineries and under-the-radar restaurants of Salt Spring Island and the Cowichan Valley. As founder of the Victoria Taste Festival and director of the B.C. Culinary Tourism Society, she is also helping give B.C.’s west coast its status among food lovers – one formerly reserved for Europe – as a gourmet wonderland of wine, cheese, meat and seafood. “Kathy’s one of our pioneers,” says Eric Pateman, founder of Edible B.C., the largest culinary tour operator in Canada. “She’s definitely been one of the most visible forces in promoting culinary tourism and local food.”

Julia Child is back in people’s minds because of the book and film Julie and Julia. And Child is a wonderful example of taking something you love, something you’re good at, and making a career out of it.”  –Kathy McAree

So how did a former Winnipegger and Kellogg’s multinational employee land such a tasty career?

The idea for Travel with Taste came while McAree was using up her banked vacation on that trip across Europe. “It may have been a red-wine-induced moment,” she admits with a laugh. But, inspired by the foodie joys of the Basque country, she sketched an itinerary of wineries, cheesemakers and restaurants back home on southern Vancouver Island and showed it to the tour leader. The Texas chef, however, scoffed at the notion of B.C. as a destination for travelling gourmets. “I’ll never forget it. He took one look and handed it back, saying, ‘You should just do this yourself.’ I walked away thinking, ‘Fine, I will.’ ”

After Spain, three more events convinced her to seize the day. The first was an encounter with an armed stranger on the night train to Nice, a man she thought was going to gun her down. Another was the 9/11 attacks, which cast a mood of solemn self-reflection over the entire world. Then in Italy she received news about the death of a friend “who was only in his early 40s. I remember climbing the steps on the Amalfi Coast, thinking, ‘Wow. Life is really short.’” And after a week of cooking lessons on an Italian farm, she returned to B.C. in fall 2001 and saw it, as converts do, with new eyes: as a food-lover’s paradise.

As most of us can attest, eating well while we travel – near or far – is on the rise. Research by the International Culinary Tourism Association (ICTA) confirms that sampling local wines, beers and cuisine is consistently one of travellers’ top-three activities, with memorable meals topping best-experience lists. Courtesy Tourism Vancouver Island/ Boomer Jerritt

As most of us can attest, eating well while we travel – near or far – is on the rise. Research by the International Culinary Tourism Association (ICTA) confirms that sampling local wines, beers and cuisine is consistently one of travellers’ top-three activities, with memorable meals topping best-experience lists. One Tourism B.C. report shows that over a two-year period, 11 million travellers to the province – half of them Canadian, half American – took part in some kind of gourmet experience, whether at a winery, restaurant or artisan farm.

“Eating regional foods is how we get to know a place, how we really experience local culture,” explains McAree. When she uncorks the terroir of the West Coast for clients, for example, they meet local chefs and tour specialty farms while sampling everything from local Auxerrois Pinot Blanc and ash-ripened chèvre to fresh Fanny Bay oysters and seaweed salad. Victoria is second only to San Francisco in restaurants per capita, she notes. In an area roughly the size of Belgium, Vancouver Island has more than two dozen wineries, five artisan cheese-makers, two Old World ciderhouses, wild seafood galore and farm-raised everything: beef, chicken, duck, lamb, water buffalo, even emu. “I get to show this whole other world that most people never get to see, even people who live here, because they don’t know it exists.”

>>Victoria Taste Kathy McAree’s July festival of local foods (updates on 2010 tastings and events at victoriataste.com)  >>More Island noshing  >>10 top B.C. foodie treks  >>Edible B.C. foodie tour giveaway (Winner to be announced March 2010)

Get Mobilized

Travel with Taste Tours from $89. 250-385-1527

• Walking tours of Victoria (pâtés made from local ingredients at Choux Choux Charcuterie, teas blended with local lavender or, if you dare, seaweed).

• Daytrips to Salt Spring Island (renowned for its organic lamb/other specialties).

• The Saanich Peninsula (chat with the chef at Butchart Gardens) and the CowichanValley (guided vineyard tours, including a three-course lunch paired with local wines).

See also: Top 10 B.C. Foodie Treks, Mywestworld.com Giveaway, Swallow Tail Tours

Brian Harris is a B.C.-based photographer focused on building a better world – through FarmFolk/CityFolk

by Kerry Banks

Brian Harris’s most famous photograph was taken outside the doors of a nunnery in Dharamsala, India, the adopted home of the Dalai Lama. The shot depicts two shaven-headed Buddhist nuns laughing. “They had just come outside to bang a gong to signal lunch, and I asked them if I could take their picture. Evidently, they thought this was pretty hilarious,” recalls Harris, whose iconic photo captured the nuns’ joyful amusement. The image subsequently appeared on the cover of his 1996 book Tibetan Voices: A Traditional Memoir, and later on posters and greeting cards. However, it was just one of thousands of shots Harris took during a 20-year span working as a photographer and fundraiser for Seva Canada, an organization with a mandate to eliminate treatable blindness in India, Tibet, Nepal and Tanzania.

“You look around and see all this wealth, and you think, ‘Man, most of the world doesn’t live like this.”

The 57-year-old Vancouverite began taking photos at 16, but didn’t take up the camera professionally until he was in his mid-thirties, after working as a baker, then as a counsellor for the mentally challenged. But from the beginning of his photography career the focus was the people of the Himalayas – whom Harris, a Buddhist since age 25, calls “a source of spiritual inspiration.” He found that he felt more alive in the region, particularly in India, with its noisy, chaotic energy. “In Canada, it’s like Sunday morning every day. There are hardly any cars on the streets. There’s no activity. You look around and see all this wealth and very few people, relatively speaking, and you think, ‘Man, most of the world doesn’t live like this.’”

Recently, however, Harris has focused his lens on subjects closer to home, photographing small, sustainable community and cooperative farms in the Lower Mainland as well as urban agricultural projects for Vancouver’s FarmFolk/CityFolk Society. Founded in 1993, the non-profit works to cultivate a local, sustainable food system by developing and operating projects that provide access to and protection of agricultural lands. It also supports local, small-scale growers and producers and educates, communicates and celebrates with local food communities.

 It has been said that ‘beauty is the splendour of the true.’ And for Vancouver-based photographer Brian Harris, a successful photograph approaches this goal. ‘Beauty’ meaning not just attractiveness ‘but the awareness of the profound nature of reality.’

Still, Harris’s work for FarmFolk/CityFolk remains consistent with his overriding mantra: “Beauty in Service.” Simply taking pretty pictures isn’t enough; the photos have to serve a larger goal. “I wouldn’t work simply as a commercial photographer,” he says. And though the subject matter of his work may be different from that at the roof of the world, there are similarities. “I’m drawn to the same things I was in the Himalayas: beauty, a way of life that is substantively real, and using my photography to motivate people toward beneficial actions in their lives.”

Other FarmFolk/CityFolk projects aimed at increasing consumption of local foods include “Meet Your Maker,” which brings together farmers, buyers and distributors so they can create networks. In summer, the organization also conducts farm tours – day trips to local farms.

Twelve of Harris’s photos of small, local sustainable farms, for example, were used to illustrate the FarmFolk/CityFolk 2009 calendar, alongside recipes provided by restaurants and food organizations promoting a grow-and-eat-local perspective. It’s an approach that FarmFolk/CityFolk is also exploring through the Community Farms Program, a collaboration with B.C.’s Land Conservancy. The goal is to expand local food production: by helping new farmers access affordable land, by researching the best practices of existing collectively owned farms and by creating a network of potential farms, landowners and community organizations.

Harris says a new model of farming is needed because so few young people are entering the field. “Most farmers today are over 60, and when they die, the farms are usually passed on to their children. But it’s so difficult to make a living farming that the land is often then sold. It remains in the Land Reserve, but it isn’t used for farming.”

Other FarmFolk/CityFolk projects aimed at increasing consumption of local foods include “Meet Your Maker,” which brings together farmers, buyers and distributors so they can create networks. In summer, the organization also conducts farm tours – day trips to local farms (see below). Meanwhile, Harris has finalized a 2010 Vancouver Museum exhibit focused on food and sustainability that features his photography, installations and a film and speaker series, all part of his continuing quest to help make the world a better place. As he says, “Seeing with the eyes of the heart is a way into the deep and meaningful understanding of existence.”

Get Mobilized Now entering their fifth year, FarmFolk/CityFolk’s Incredible Edible tours are an opportunity for culinary education on everything from heirloom poultry to environmental sustainability. The Metro Vancouver/Fraser Valley tours include transportation, a locally sourced menu of regional specialties, a knowledgeable tour guide and at least three in-depth farm tours with the folks that put food on the tables of many British Columbians — plus the chance to purchase farm-fresh fare. $80. For more info: contact Tallulah at 604-730-0450; admin@ffcf.bc.ca

>>Click here for Brian Harris’s six-minute show FarmFolk/CityFolk Heroes

>>See also: MyWestworld.com’s Spring 2010 Edible British Columbia Giveaway

Photos courtesy Brian Harris

And the winners are . . . according to the Society of International Railway Travellers

Background

The U.S.-based Society of International Railway Travellers bases its annual awards on the experiences of its members, writers, editors and staff. Trains chosen must meet “stringent standards for service, accommodation, scenery, itinerary, off-train experiences and passenger enjoyment.”

The Winners

New to the Top-25 list as of 2009 are two routes in Norway and the British Pullman, which completes the British leg of the Venice Simplon-Orient-Express journeys between Paris and London. However, due to the recent economic downturn, gone are the GrandLuxe Express and Sierra Madre Express, which ran in Mexico’s Copper Canyon.

Three of the trains featured on this list have accompanying articles by Westworld writers: The Rocky Mountaineer, the Blue Train and the Ghan.  The Sierra Madre Express also has an accompanying article, even though it is no longer on the top-25 list. Why? Its route is still serviced via other trains, and the highlight is still the Copper Canyon – considered the eighth wonder of the world. Obviously, this remains a rail journey well worth taking.)
North America

1. Canadian (Canada)

2. Royal Canadian Pacific (Canada)

3. Rocky Mountaineer (Canada)
South America

4. Andean Explorer (Peru)

5. Hiram Bingham (Peru)

Africa

6. Blue Train (South Africa)

7. Pride of Africa (Rovos Rail) (South Africa)

Asia/Indian Subcontinent

8. Palace on Wheels (India)

9. Eastern & Oriental Express (SE Asia)

10. Shangri-La Express (China/Tibet)

11. Toy Train (India)

12. Deccan Odyssey (India)

Europe

13. Danube Express (Central Europe, Turkey)

14. British Pullman (Great Britain)

15. El Transcanta-brico (Spain)

16. Golden Eagle Trans-Siberian Express (Russia)

17. Venice Simplon-Orient-Express (Europe)

18. Glacier Express (Switzerland)

19. Bernina Express (Switzerland)

20. Royal Scotsman (Scotland)

21. Flam Railway (Norway)

22. Bergen Railway (Norway)

Australia

23. Ghan (Australia)

24. Indian Pacific (Australia)

25. Sunlander (Australia)

>>A 2010 update on the growing trend in slow travel: Trains-formers

>> 4 of the World’s Top 25 Rail Journeys

>> The A Trains: 10 Dreamy Rail Vacations to Stoke Your Boiler

Lead photo courtesy Orient-Express.

Wave makers: the return of the small-scale wooden boat

by Rob Howatson

The Fraser River is the historical lifeline of B.C., and wooden boats the primary mode of transport used to navigate it until the turn of the last century. How fitting then that New Westminster’s newly expanded river interpretive centre has found the perfect way to merge and explore the mythology of these two icons.

The Fraser River Discovery Centre’s Build-a-Boat program (February 6 to May 15) offers the chance to help construct a 12-foot, flat-bottomed, wooden dinghy called a Fraser River skiff, with volunteer coaches from the Vancouver Wooden Boat Society (FRDC) assisting aspiring mariners in shaping and joining the marine plywood and Douglas fir parts. The FRDC will use the vessel for community events and may even mount it atop a parade float.   604-521-8401

Getting involved: The Fraser River Discovery Centre’s new exhibit, “The Ripple Effect,” documents river-activist-turned-MP Fin Donnelly’s two epic Fraser swims, the changing health of the Fraser waterway and tips on how to help save the river from pollution and overdevelopment.

Photo courtesy Dana Montgomery

Why a 19th-century invention should become the 21st-century people-mover

by Charles Montgomery

There is a common theory about the great environmental crisis of our time. We are warned that any serious attempt to cut greenhouse gas emissions will doom us to lives of misery, tedium, limited food choices and dull vacations. We are told that we have to choose between living well and saving the planet.

It occurred to me at exactly 10:45 a.m. on a recent midsummer’s day that such considerations might be entirely wrong. And by 10:46 I was cruising toward a much more compelling notion: that the climate crisis might be an opportunity, a chance to regain the art of travel and return to a more civilized time, where the journey was not merely a hassle, not an obstacle to overcome, but a pleasure to be savoured as fully as the destination itself.

AMTRAK’s Adirondack cruises from Montreal to the Big Apple in a 14-hour overnight trip. Courtesy Amtrak

I know exactly what time these thoughts occurred, because my Paris-bound train had just left London’s Waterloo station right on schedule. I was contemplating the bad carbon karma I had already racked up by flying from Vancouver to London, when a steward with twinkling eyes approached. Observing the consternation on my face, he leaned toward me and gently cooed, “Champagne, monsieur?”

Champagne for breakfast. Pannier Brut Sélection NV, to be exact: an elegant blend with creamy brioche aromas, according to those who know about such things, yet totally wrong for a man attempting a few hours of carbon penance.

“Yes, of course!” I barked eagerly, and the bubbly flowed as the sun burst through the clouds, rendering the red bricks and railyards of London a holy shade of amber.

This journey was supposed to be about sacrifice, given that in my transatlantic flight from Vancouver to London I had contributed to pumping nearly a tonne of CO2 into the atmosphere. For if you are ever masochistic enough to calculate your own carbon footprint, you’ll realize that flying is just about the nastiest thing you can do to the planet. Each passenger on a transatlantic flight blows out about as much greenhouse gas as they would driving a Hummer to work for a year. Which means, as an occasional travel writer, I’ve flown enough in my life to merit a thousand lashes with a carbon-tipped whip.

It’s not that there isn’t hope for air travel. While fuel prices soar into the stratosphere, both government and corporate researchers are searching for cheap, alternative fuel sources for airplanes. But so far the prize has been elusive. Jet engines require a potent kerosene-like fuel that can withstand high altitudes and low temperatures, and engineers are now examining ways to power aircraft with hydrogen.

Meanwhile, to my way of thinking, rail has the upper hand. In fact, as early as 1901, the electric predecessors of the Paris-bound train I was riding were being adopted in Berlin, while today’s generation of electric trains can travel more than twice as fast as the speediest diesel-powered locomotives and – theoretically, at least – can be powered by distant solar, nuclear or wind turbines. And so I reasoned that, because my cross-channel train journey pumps out only a tenth of the carbon dioxide generated by flying from London to Paris, I’d arrive at my destination a little closer to carbon neutral and a lot closer to climate righteousness. Oh yes, I was ready to suffer for my sins.

The Indian Pacific. Courtesy Great Southern Rail

But things were not working out as anticipated. I had walked into the Eurostar terminal in Waterloo (Eurostar has since moved across the Thames to St. Pancras International Station) barely half an hour before my departure. Ticket confirmed, luggage scanned and passport stamped by French customs, all in a matter of minutes, I was then escorted onboard to a reserved window seat: an outrageously comfortable, moulded number that would be quite at home in an Austin Powers shag pad. I opened my newspaper to read about the chaos that summer rains were causing at Heathrow Airport. Thousands stranded. I toasted their patience.

As I sipped my Brut – it is really quite delightful how those bubbles swirl and pop beneath your nose – it struck me that if I had chosen to fly, I would still be en route to Heathrow. Once I reached the airport, I would then have to spend two hours being poked, prodded and herded through its infernal collection of duty-free shops, deep-fry vats and flocks of rumpled departure lounge castaways. And if my flight left on time – by no means a certainty at Heathrow – I would lift off at just about the moment my 10:40 a.m. Eurostar train was to pull into Gare du Nord in central Paris.

Forget, for a moment, that this train is très vite. And forget, as well, this traveller’s carbon guilt. These are footnotes, really, to the philosophical question that a rail journey naturally raises. Can the quality of an experience be judged by the distances we cross to claim it? Do we travel to collect miles, or do we travel for joy? Do we still believe that it’s not only where you go that’s important but also how you get there?

In the 1987 film Swimming to Cambodia, the late monologue artist Spalding Gray describes his theory of The Perfect Moment. No matter how unpleasant Gray’s journeys, he considered them incomplete – and he would soldier onward – until he had experienced that rarified moment. It might be nothing more than a brief feeling of transcendence felt while floating in, say, the Indian Ocean. But once he had collected his Perfect Moment, even if it occurred mere hours after first stuffing socks into suitcases, Gray would be ready to turn around and head for home.

THE ORIENT EXPRESS Complete with starched linens, boutique shopping and fine dining (beef carpaccio with juniper and coriander in red wine sauce, anyone?Courtesy the Orient-Express (www.orient-express.com

In this age of discount, fast-tracked globetrotting, it seems we have all been seduced by The Perfect Moment School of Travel. It dictates that no matter how many continents we have to cross, no matter how much pollution we spew, no matter how many affronts, security friskings and leg cramps we suffer en route, all that matters are those few seconds of postcard bliss on the other end. In other words, Perfect Moment-ism is corrupting that most ancient and noble axiom of travel: getting there should be something of an art.

It’s time to stop kidding ourselves. We’ve traded car camping, lazy weeks on nearby beaches and the clickety-clack of rail for the seductive possibility of getting as far away as we can, as quickly as possible. But I believe there is a better way, one that requires tossing out the math so many of us use to plan our vacations. It means trading maximum mileage for meandering. And if one thinks about it, I’d argue that the most climate-friendly means of travel are also the most pleasurable: the canoe drift; the bicycle tour, even the station-wagon safari to the summer cabin. But the grand dame of leisurely journeys is still the train. There is something deliciously cinematic about moving across this earth by rail. While air travel renders the world an abstraction from 20,000 feet, rail is inherently voyeuristic, offering peeks through the world’s back door.

Courtesy Great Southern RailI have a friend, a climate worrier, who decided to take the train from Vancouver to a job in Texas, even though the patchwork journey would take him the better part of a week. He insists he had a marvellous time. The trip was transforming, “like a dream.” And he thought, deeply. He thought like he hadn’t thought in years. I didn’t quite have the stamina for a week of introspection. But the Eurostar offered a glimpse as, after pulling out of the gothic station, we cruised through the graffiti-grit of rail industria. Overall-clad men loaded trucks with beer. Hobos dozed in the shadows of ancient walls. A pair of teenage boys smoked furtively among blackberry thickets, ignoring my gaze. I felt like a ghost, floating through.

Soon, the backyards of suburbia gave way to the streams and pastures of places in-between, where gumbooted Mr. Bean lookalikes chased sleepy Herefords. The English countryside rose and fell alongside the tracks like soft green ocean swells, and gradually the oak groves began to blur across my window.

The Europeans have never forgotten the joys of train travel. In fact, if the Eurostar is any indication, they have been refining it to an art. This train leaves on time – not an hour late, not a minute late. No excuses. The track is straight and swift, and becoming more so. (The train became the U.K.’s first high-speed route in November 2007, shortening the London-to-Paris trip from a full day to two and a quarter hours – a great shame, really, considering how little time this will leave for champagne.) Still, the Eurostar remains far more than a high-tech curiosity. More than 95 million passengers have ridden it under the English Channel since 1994. And while many arguably ride these rails for convenience, similar routes around the world are also drawing passengers who clearly care more about the journey than the destination.

Courtesy the Orient-Express (www.orient-express.com)

Take the Venice Simplon Orient-Express, which makes a sturdy overnight march from London to Venice, pulling in after a solid 17 hours on the rails. At U.S.$3,120 a sleeper, riders are not paying for speed, but for the experience of riding a lovingly-refurbished antique first used on the original Orient-Express of the 1920s and 30s – complete with starched linens, boutique shopping (the Express has its own Collection, including hand-blown French crystal and pearl earrings) and fine dining (beef carpaccio with juniper and coriander in red wine sauce, anyone?).

Much like modern-day cruise ships have revived the romance of ocean travel, luxury rail travel is again now having its day. The pampered few catch glimpses of the Taj Mahal from the gilded chambers of the Palace on Wheels as it winds through Rajasthan, India. They sip fancy cocktails and smoke Cuban cigars as they venture from Cape Town through the South African bush to Pretoria on the deliciously named Blue Train. They nibble on chocolate-dipped strawberries as they gaze at the serrated edges of the continental divide from the glass-domed cars of Canada’s Rocky Mountaineer. And they all learn, as generations of our travelling ancestors have, to adopt a particularly languid modus operandi. One must simply be prepared to doze, to dream and, particularly in North America, to spend plenty of hours on those tracks.

courtesy the Rocky Mountaineer

Take Via Rail’s Canadian, which ambles between Toronto and Vancouver. Yesterday’s traveller might consider the journey three days lost. But slowness can be a virtue. The train’s engineers are apparently so unhurried that they’ll take stop requests anywhere in the wilderness between Sudbury and Winnipeg. Want to go wandering up the third creek east of that grey hill? Just ask. They’ll dump you and your backpack wherever you like and continue on their way. Via can also do Toronto to Montreal in about four hours – just enough time to savour the roast-duck-breast napped with sweet cherry sauce served in Via 1 Class. Vancouver to Jasper is an overnight by sleeper. Amtrak’s Adirondack cruises from Montreal to the Big Apple in a 14-hour overnight trip.

If you let go of your hurry, rail can even roll you out of winter: Amtrak’s Coast Starlight connects Vancouver with the west coast of the U.S., rolling between Seattle, Portland and Los Angeles in a couple of leisurely days. (Of course, the soulful traveller would take time out to hit the public market in Seattle, the wineries of Napa and the cliffs of Yosemite National Park.)

The Ghan train / courtesy Great Southern Rail

And yes, it’s true, Canadian rail travel requires special patience. The network is aging and freight generally gets priority on the tracks, so one out of every four Via Rail trips arrives behind schedule. But things are changing. Federal stimulus funding is helping unplug routes such as the previously bottlenecked Montreal-Toronto corridor. And even Toronto’s Union Station will soon be restored to the historic grandeur of its 1927 opening, when the Prince of Wales proclaimed, “You build your stations like we build our cathedrals.”

Having flown Vancouver to London before boarding the Eurostar, I knew in my heart of hearts that I’d already burned any carbon offset my Eurostar trip might offer. But I resolved to enjoy it anyway. I accepted a pear from the steward – a perfect pear, actually: unblemished and chilled, so that it was now gleaming with dew. It was like a painting.

Courtesy the Orient-Express (www.orient-express.com)

I bit into my pear. I watched cloud shadows race across patchwork fields. I let the sound of the train lull me. The Eurostar did not roar like a jet. It did not clickety-clack like The Little Engine that Could. It whooshed with calm efficiency. And against that rushing air was a sound that air travellers just don’t hear anymore: the tinkling, almost musical percussion, of silverware. I looked down and, yup, there they were, wrapped in a linen napkin: my own stainless steel knife and fork, sharp edges and all. It seemed a symbol of all that was good and right and dignified about this journey.

There were other sounds, too: giggling. I peered between the seats ahead of me, where two middle-aged women were mixing themselves mimosas. One had polished her long fingernails a burnished silver. The other had sequins woven into her black T-shirt. The latter caught my eye and winked.

“To Paris!” they bawled in Jersey accents, then downed their flutes.

Ah, yes, we were headed for Paris. I had almost forgotten, lost in what was becoming a seamless collage of dozing and perfect moments. The train slowed a touch. We glided through the Kent hills, sank gradually beneath the youthful grass of spring, down through the skin of the earth, into the darkness of the Channel Tunnel, where we could imagine the city to come.

Winding through the eucalyptus-filled Blue Mountains to the arid Nullarbor Desert, Great Southern Rail's three-night journey features the world’s longest straight stretch of railway track.Courtesy Great Southern Rail

The World’s Top 25 Rail Journeys, including Westworld writers on Russia/Mongolia/China’s Trans-Siberian Railway, Australia’s Ghan, South Africa’s Blue Train and Canada’s Rocky Mountaineer/VIA’s Trans-Canada route.

The A-trains:  10 dreamy rail vacations to stoke your boiler

by Sonu Purhar

• Eurail
Across Europe
From Bulgaria to Ireland and everything in between, Eurail is the wandering soul’s key to the continent. The number of countries and length of travel determine which rail ticket is best suited to the individual — though with every stop an invitation to explore a new culture, the comprehensive Global Pass is the most tempting option.

• Great Southern Rail
Sydney to Perth, Australia (The Indian Pacific)
Winding through the eucalyptus-filled Blue Mountains to the arid Nullarbor Desert, this three-night journey down the world’s longest straight stretch of railway track (478 km) showcases Australia’s startling contrasts — from vantage points up to 1,000 metres above sea level. Keep an eye out for the wedge-tailed eagle. The massive avian is the Indian Pacific Railway’s official mascot.

Snow-capped Rockies, golden Prairies and thundering Niagara Falls — Canada’s natural landmarks are best explored by rail.Courtesy the Rocky Mountaineer

• The Rocky Mountaineer/VIA Rail
Vancouver to Toronto, Canada (Trans-Canada Rail Adventure)
Snow-capped Rockies, golden Prairies and thundering Niagara Falls — Canada’s natural landmarks are best explored by rail. And this 13-day, cross-country exploration includes motorcoach and helicopter tours, national park passes and nine-nights’ hotel accommodation.

• Trans-Siberian Railway
Moscow, Russia, to Beijing, China (Trans-Siberian line)
The longest rail line ever constructed, the Trans-Siberian crosses one-third of the globe and spans more than seven time zones. Four routes connect Russia to the Far East, and though the landscape is spectacular, it’s the eclectic mix of passengers that makes the journey unforgettable.

• Chihuahua-Pacific Railroad
Chihuahua to Los Mochis, Mexico
Known to the locals as Ferrocarril Chihuahua al Pacifico, or El Chepe, this refurbished train follows what is reputed to be one of the world’s most scenic rail routes. Highlights include the vast Copper Canyon, seven times larger than the Grand Canyon; a series of rustic, off-the-path villages; and a visit with the swift-of-foot Tarahumara tribe.

• The Darjeeling Himalayan Railway
New Jalpaiguri to Darjeeling, West Bengal, India
One of the few railways that is also a World Heritage Site, the Darjeeling’s century-old engineering allows for sharp, spiralling ascents over Himalayan terrain. Passing through the soaring Mahaldirum Range and over the rushing Mahanadi River, this half-day tour is so breathtaking, Mark Twain is said to have called his DHR experience the most enjoyable day of his life.

• Shangri-La Express
Beijing/Xian, China, to Goldmund/Lhasa, Tibet
According to locals, “Shangri-La” is a mythic paradise hidden beyond the Himalayas — and that’s exactly what this 12-night rail trip seeks. Two possible routes venture to the “roof of the world,” Tibet, with the highest altitude reached topping 5,000 metres (oxygen is pumped aboard). Stops include Beijing’s Forbidden City and the Dalai Lama’s Summer Palace in Lhasa.

Empire Builder at Havre Station, Mont. Courtesy Amtrak

• Amtrak
Chicago, Seattle or Portland to Montana, U.S. (Empire Builder Train)
The U.S. is known for its national parks, and this 14-day pioneer-themed journey explores five of the most scenic: Glacier, Yellowstone, Grand Teton, Arches and Canyonlands. The route follows portions of Lewis and Clark’s famous trail, with such notable sights as the lazy Mississippi, temperamental Old Faithful and other geological, natural and wildlife marvels of the American West.

• Rovos Rail
Cape Town to Pretoria, South Africa
The five-star luxury of this refurbished 19th-century “cruise train,” which may be hauled by steam, diesel or electric locomotives throughout the journey, is ideal for experiencing exotic South Africa. History reigns supreme: as the train trundles across centuries-old veldt and past ancient towns, its period décor, after-dinner champagne and traditional white-glove service recall the glamour of a bygone era.

• The Royal Scotsman
Scotland tour
Sparkling lochs, sprawling moors and overnights in ancient castles are just a taste of the itinerary offered by this travelling luxury hotel. On-board meals reflect seasonal Scottish specialties (guests have the option of donning kilts at dinner); evening entertainment includes Highlanders regaling passengers with tales of life in old Scotland.  ?

Recommended: Purchase rail tickets prior to departure, as many countries offer substantial discounts on advance bookings.

>> 4 of the World’s Top 25 Rail Journeys

>> The World’s Top 25 Rail Journeys (2009)

Lead photo: courtesy Helena Zukowski

Some people will go to any lengths to find a great meal, even if they have to walk, bike or snowshoe their way to it

by Rhonda May

– and for those people there is Swallow Tail Tours, a Vancouver-based tour company that specializes in regional gastronomic adventure.

Company owner, Robin Kort, an enthusiastic cook, certified oenophile and lover of the great outdoors, knows where the highest quality edibles are to be found throughout the province, and being athletically inclined, she leads many of the tours herself – whether these be pedal-pumping tours of the Okanagan Wine Valley, hikes to secret swimming holes on the Gulf Islands or treks across frozen Coastal Range lakes.

The getting there may require a certain amount of huff and puff (tours can be up to five days long), but at some point during each day comes the goal, and the reward – an amazing multi-course meal made from fresh, regional B.C. ingredients matched to the best B.C. wines. Like the participants on her tours, Kort cares that the food she eats is nourishing for the body and sustainable for the planet. Hence, all meat, dairy and eggs served on the tours are sourced from B.C. organic producers raising free-range, hormone-free animals fed on a natural diet. The bread is likely to have been made from flour ground at a local mill with heritage flour, the cheese lovingly crafted by artisan cheese makers, the produce grown by local organic farms, the wine bottled by eco-conscious British Columbia vineyards.

Whatever food you discover, you’ll want second helpings, and you’ll feel okay about that because – hey, you just burned off all those calories.

The tours are not, however, only for Olympians in training. The focus is more about getting food lovers closer to the source of their diet in a healthy, active way. 

The tours are not, however, only for Olympians in training. The focus is more about getting food lovers closer to the source of their diet in a healthy, active way. Kort keeps her tours small and intimate (seven to 10 people max) and they can be tailored to the fitness level of the group. Cyclists on the tours, for example, are trailed by vans, giving participants the option to cycle or ride along as much as they choose. Then of course, at the end of the day, there are those other fresh-air attractions, such as hot-tub soaking, fireside lounging under the stars and repose in a quaint farmhouse, unique B & B or rustic mountain cabin.

If time is limited, Swallowtail Tours also offers popular one-day excursions from Vancouver, such as its crabbing trip – an outing at sea on a fish boat to set crab pots, followed by a Dungeness crab fest in Kort’s own kitchen featuring the day’s catch.

As Robin Kort explains, “My tours are the perfect break for the couple where one partner wants to engage in some sort of activity and the other cares more about great dining. This way they can vacation together and have both.”

You can follow Robin on Twitter
Facebook
or via her own cooking blog

Prime Picks: four foraged feasts

by Ryan Stuart

No matter where one travels in B.C., there’s food in the forest. But determining the difference between delicious and deadly — be it mushroom, moss or seaweed — can be scarier than skydiving, which is where B.C.’s foodies of the wild come in. Ardent supporters of dining locally, but for free, these pros have grub-gathering neophytes turning stinging nettle into sweet tea and seaweed into trail snacks within hours.

1. Wild Seaweed Tour
Outer Coast Seaweeds, Sooke

WHIFFIN SPIT's Participants in Wild Seaweed Tours with "Seaweed Lady" Diane Bernard sample 12 to 15 of the 600-plus species found off the Vancouver Island coast. Courtesy Seaflora Wild Organic Seaweed Skincare

Washed up, dried out and covered in sand, seaweed looks and smells anything but edible, or nutritious. That’s why Diane Bernard, a.k.a. the Seaweed Lady, leads her Wild Seaweed Tours past “the compost pile” and into the “living ocean garden” of the tidal flats off Whiffin Spit. “We look at, learn about, eat, wear and play with about 12 to 15 different types of seaweed,” says Bernard. “And I give lots of ideas on how to cook and enjoy all of them.” According to the former politician, the 600 different seaweed species thriving off Vancouver Island contain almost every known vitamin, 60 trace minerals and tons of fibre — and “they don’t taste bad,” either. Participants nibble raw samples on a two-hour morning tour or sign on for a seaweed lunch at one of two partner restaurants, including world-renowned Sooke Harbour House. Optional: three-course seaweed spa treatment, a spinoff of the seaweed tour featuring Bernard’s Outer Coast Seaweeds spa products (made from seaweed, natch). Day trips, from $35, including tour, meal and spa option. 877-713-7464

2. The Great Fall Mushroom Hunt
Aerie Resort, Malahat

It’s an assignment worthy of 007: a half-day educational “hunt” led by Brother Michael, a mycologist and Benedictine monk based out of Vancouver Island’s only monastery. Every weekend for six weeks starting at the end of September, gatherers-in-training depart the Aerie by resort van for a mushroom patch known only to fungi agent Michael (who off-hours manages a roaring trade harvesting wild shrooms for restaurants in-the-know, including the Aerie’s). Rummaging around on the forest floor near Lake Cowichan, Brother Michael first identifies four or five common, edible specimens before unleashing the rookies. After a few hours of hawk-eyed hunting, trainees are then ready to pack up their spoils and return to the Aerie’s five-star digs atop the Malahat’s summit for a three-course mushroom-centric lunch, take-home box of fungi (including recipes) and shroom martini — shaken, not stirred, of course. Half-days, $110 to $130 (includes hunt, transportation to and from the Aerie and three-course meal, with martini). 1-800-518-1933

3. Thriving Wild
Windwalker Adventures, Comox & Lake Cowichan

THRIVING WILD WEEKENDS WBernilderness survival expert Wes Gietz teaches students how to thrive in the wild with nothing more than a sheath knife. Courtesy Wes Gietz

Forget Survivorman. Do it yourself. That’s what Thriving Wild Weekends wilderness survival expert Wes Gietz teaches students — how to thrive in the wild with nothing more than a sheath knife. Besides building weatherproof shelters and rubbing sticks together to make fire, wannabe Les Strouds learn what they can eat and how they can eat it. “Virtually everything we need is at our feet,” says Gietz, a protégé of survival guru Tom Brown Jr. who draws on 40 years of training and consulting in wilderness survival. Nuts, roots, flowers, berries and fruit are all on the menu, depending on the season (though tenderfoots bring backup food and a tent, just in case). Two-night, two-day Thriving Wild weekends are also available for groups of up to 12 or more anywhere in the province. Weekends, $165. 250-339-3197

4. Earth Walker Skills Camp
Strathcona Park Lodge, Campbell River

courtesy Strathcona Park Lodge & Outdoor Education Centre

Over the six days of this wilderness skills summer camp, 13- to 15-year-olds go from campers to survivalists. Life starts relatively luxe: Newbies sleep in tents and sleeping bags and eat everyday food from pots and bowls on the edge of Strathcona Provincial Park. But as instructors teach the skills needed to survive in B.C.’s wilderness, campers gradually and voluntarily forgo modern conveniences. Metal spoons are swapped for hand-carved ones, pots give way to rock ovens, sleeping bags and tents are traded for stick-and-leaf shelters and Earl Grey morphs into Labrador tea. As for sustenance, instructors reveal what’s in the woods and how to prepare it, sometimes setting traps for critters to roast on spits over a fire. By day five, the goal is to have abandoned all modern-day “essentials.” Of course, fun and safety are top priorities. Six-day camps, $726. 250-286-3122

The Okanagan’s Kettle Valley Railway Trail is where mountain bike forks meet VQA corks

by Chad Hershler

Kurt Flaman isn’t happy. We just started biking and already we’ve run into a pickup truck. B.C.’s Kettle Valley Rail Trail, the old Kettle Valley Railway converted into a hiking and biking route that stretches 455 kilometres from Hope to Midway, has regulations regarding vehicles that the Penticton region, it would seem, has agreed to bend. “The legacy of the KVR is to avoid exhaust and car marks,” gripes Flaman, owner of the Penticton-based Freedom Bike Shop, and I can see his point. But the interloper doesn’t bug me one bit. I’m just happy to be out of the bike van and breathing some fresh Okanagan air; the bumpy ride up to our drop-off point on nothing but espresso and pear galette has left my stomach a tad edgy.

We drift past the pickup and nod to the driver. Then Flaman spots a trail off the side of the KVR he doesn’t recognize. “Are you up for it?” he asks, eyes wide with excitement. I look down at the KVR’s almost two metre wide gravel expanse, then at the potholed trail covered in rocks and tree roots. Flaman smiles and runs up the trail with his bike. Take away the beard, the receding hairline and a few centimetres in height, and he’s still a 10-year-old kid with his first BMX. The pear galette does another flip. Sigh. How can I possibly say no?

I've spent the morning assembling my local-specialties-inspired feast for the road: scurrying from Penticton's Saturday morning farmer’s market with its organic fruits, olives and barbecued bison bratwurst to the Bench Artisan Food Market for Poplar Grove cheese. Courtesy Cindy Nelson/Penticton Farmers Market

To be clear: There was no avoiding the galette. My assignment here is three-fold: bike, eat and drink, and not necessarily in that order. For while Penticton has established a stellar reputation amongst Okanagan wine aficionados (the Naramata Bench is the fastest-growing wine region in Canada), its local food artists – cheesemakers, organic farmers and, yes, galette bakers – are rapidly carving out a niche for themselves at the tasting table. And with the Kettle Valley Rail Trail and a network of idyllic country roads leading from the city through parkland right up to said table, local bike-shop owners, tour operators and guides have jumped at the opportunity to assist sweat-friendly travellers in finding their way there – with élan.

Flaman, though normally only the bike-renter and map-provider for Freedom’s self-guided cycling tours, has elected to join me on my trek along the Penticton stretch of the KVR, including a trailside gourmet lunch and post-ride wine and cheese sampling on the bench (can you blame him?). I’ve spent the morning assembling my local-specialties-inspired feast for the road: scurrying from the Saturday morning farmer’s market with its organic fruits, olives and barbecued bison bratwurst to the Bench Artisan Food Market for Poplar Grove cheese. Then it was on to Il Vecchio Deli for the sandwich everyone in Penticton can’t seem to stop talking about and, finally, back to the farmer’s market for the handcrafted pear galette by Joyroad Catering I was afraid might no longer be there. Luckily – or so I thought at the time – it was. It didn’t make it out of the market.

Still licking my fingers, I rushed up to Freedom to meet Flaman and rent my bike. From there, Ambrosia Tours – which transports cyclists and bikes from Freedom to one of two spots along the KVR – dropped us off at Chute Lake Resort, deep in the heart of Okanagan Lake Park. It’s about a three-hour bike ride back into town. And so, galette still digesting, olives, fruit, cheese and one Il Vecchio deli sandwich tucked away for later, here I am barrelling down the side of a mountain with Flaman, super-human bike man, leading the charge.

“When will we get back on the KVR?” I shout from behind his fast-disappearing rear wheel.

“We’ll come right back to it,” Flaman shouts in answer, kicking loose branches away with one leg. “This is just a short cut.”

Construction for the Kettle Valley Railway began in 1910, after the CPR beat out rival companies to build a Kootenay-to-coast railway that would transport locally mined copper, gold, silver and coal to Vancouver. Now, as a recreation trail, the KVR transports hikers and bikers along the same route (never steeper than a two per cent, train-friendly grade), winding its way through parks and canyons, from one small town to the next. Nowhere in my research, however, did it mention fallen trees, sharp turns and sudden drops on improvised biking trails no more than 30 metres from the main route.

“Don’t brake too hard or you’ll skid. Lean back when it’s steep. Don’t worry about what you’re going over, worry about where you’re going,” yells Flaman.

I grip my brakes hard and pray it won’t last long. This is no gourmand’s gentle wheel through the countryside of southern France, all checkered tablecloths and exotic cheeses, vineyards and lazy sunsets. Oh no. This is: Watch out for sliding rocks and low branches and, maybe, if we’re lucky, we might see the elk herd I’ve heard about. Eventually, we’ll get to the wine.

“In the 1930s there was a derailment on the KVR right around here, and this load of elk they were transporting escaped,” Flaman tells me, biting into his energy bar. After checking out a few old rock ovens built by the Chinese railroad workers during the rail bed’s construction, we’ve thankfully stopped for lunch in amongst the Douglas firs and ponderosa pines – the KVR, as promised, just a few metres above our heads. “So once in a while you’re biking around here and you turn a corner and there’s this whole herd of elk, just staring at you.” We both laugh. “It’s a crazy sight.”

Crazy indeed. Just as crazy, I imagine, as the sight of all us mountain bikers, decked out in spandex, sipping wine and nibbling cheese on some of the Naramata’s more popular vineyard patios. Like the herd of cycling lawyers (around 90 of them) who descended on Hillside Estates, Red Rooster and Poplar Grove vineyards last fall as part of the Okanagan Tour deVine, a guided and catered wine and cycling tour linked to the Okanagan Wine Festival (see sidebar). “Only in their case,” Flaman says, not without a hint of derision, “they didn’t carry a thing.” From the friendly gravel slopes of the KVR, the phalanx of riders coasted onto the Naramata Bench to find a catered lunch – replete with cloth napkins and silverware – awaiting them, along with a van to ease them and their wine purchases back to their hotels. “But we earn it!” Flaman cries, holding up the wrapper to his energy bar like a victory flag. “We earn our wine!”

All “earning of wine” aside, I wouldn’t mind a sip of Pinot Gris to go with my lunch. The marinated olives, organic pears and Poplar Grove Double Cream Camembert are looking a little lonely beside my water bottle (note to self: bring wine next time). Nevertheless, Il Vecchio’s triple-cheese repast has lived up to its billing – and I can save the rest for the wine tastings later.

Back in the saddle, we follow the KVR this time, surrounded by trees for the next hour, then emerging onto the sage-brush-strewn terrain overlooking Lake Okanagan. Behind us the lake curves northeast toward Kelowna, before us it flows back toward Penticton town centre, the lush, irrigated vineyards of the bench kissing the near side. We coast into a tunnel and past a number of adventurous families hiking the grade uphill, scouting a good picnic lookout spot for themselves. Flaman points out the charred remains of 2003’s wildfires on a mountain across the way. The KVR took a blow that summer.  One of its more publicized routes – the Myra Canyon – was wiped out, trestle bridges and all. Unfortunately, says Flaman, media reports led tourists to believe the entire KVR was ruined – sending many local recreation-based outlets out of business. His Freedom bike shop, Ambrosia Tours and a Kelowna outfit, Monashee Tours (see sidebar), are now doing their best to re-introduce bikers to the KVR’s Penticton region.

NARAMATA, Pacific Breeze Winery Over the past eight years, the number of Naramata wineries has almost doubled (from 11 to 19).Courtesy Lone Jones Photography

Nearing clusters of wineries now, we leave the KVR to take a back road through some of the vineyards unreachable via the trail. Over the past eight years, the number of Naramata wineries has almost doubled (from 11 to 19), leaving the thirsty cyclist with any number of possibilities to choose from. Though too late for wine and cheese at Poplar Grove, we manage to squeeze in a wine tasting at Hillside Estates along with a more leisurely cherry port and apricot wine tasting on the patio at Elephant Island Orchard Wines – shadowed by the fruit trees and overlooking the lake.

Here, along with my leftover savouries from lunch, aching palms from braking so hard, bike-crazy cohort by my side, I make good on my last assignment for the day: sipping fruit wines lazily in the late-afternoon sun. I look up the hill I have to climb to get back on the KVR and into Penticton. It was a treat to coast down its scenic length, passing row after row of fat, happy grapes, white bluffs shearing into the lake visible in the distance. I look over at Flaman, guiltily. Now, if only there was a van that could whisk me back to the hotel.

MONASHEE ADVENTURE TOURS Custom, catered and guided vineyard cycle tours in the Kelowna and Penticton regions from March through November — anywhere from one to 14 days, with as few or as many participants as desired. Courtesy Monashee Adventure Tours

Krank your pedals on the kettle
The independent and map-proficient biker, foodie and wine lover can assemble a gourmet lunch in Penticton with the help of:

• The Bench Artisan Food Market
Dips, spreads, local goodies, catered lunches. 250-492-2222

• Il Vecchio Delicatessen
European goodies; sandwiches to die for. 250-492-7610

• Joy Road Catering (Cuisine de Terroir)
Okanagan caterers who use as many locally grown ingredients as possible. 250-493-8657

• Penticton Farmer’s Market
Locally grown organic produce, honey farmers, cheesemakers, Polish grandmothers selling perogies and those galettes. Saturdays, 8 a.m. to noon, May 5 to November 3. 250-770-3276; bcfarmersmarket.org

Buy local wines from:

• The Wine Information Centre
One-stop wine shopping and info. 250-490-2006

Rent bikes and get maps from:

• Freedom — The Bike Shop
250-493-0686

Get dropped off by:

• Ambrosia Tours Ltd.
250-492-1095

For the wine- and food-loving cyclist who wants a more luxurious ride (as well as a van to carry those crates of wine back to the hotel):

• Okanagan Tour deVine
Catered and guided vineyard cycle tours during the Okanagan Fall Wine Festival. Group tours with package deals available. 1-800-663-1900

• Monashee Adventure Tours
Custom, catered and guided vineyard cycle tours in the Kelowna and Penticton regions from March through November — anywhere from one to 14 days, with as few or as many participants as desired. 1-888-762-9253

Lead image courtesy Cindy Nelson/Penticton Farmers Market

TRAIN TRAVEL

Four journeys, four continents, four top 25 trains

1. CANADA

• The Rockies Under Glass
  by Rob Howatson

It’s a grey dawn at Vancouver’s Pacific Central Station. Groggy tourists climb aboard their cars and collapse into assigned seats, as the train lurches in the deserted railyard and begins rolling down the platform. Unlike the ticker-tape bon voyage of a cruise-liner, there is no brass band send-off. The only ceremony comes from a handful of hastily assembled Rocky Mountaineer Railtours (RMR) employees, who position themselves honour-guard style alongside the tracks and wave . . . [Continued at The Rockies Under Glass]

2. SOUTH AFRICA

• South Africa’s Blue Train
• by Helena Zukowski

For a train lover, a chance to ride South Africa’s legendary Blue Train is the kind of thrill one might experience if one were a chef and Alain Ducasse confessed that one’s soufflé made his look like mere pudding. The Blue Train is simply the ultimate luxury train. The Blue Train’s pedigree goes back to 1901, when the Zambezi Express provided luxury rail travel between Cape Town and Victoria Falls for those whose fortunes were dug out of the diamond mines in Kimberly. By 1939, the line’s blue-and-gray air-conditioned cars were part of the scenery, and locals popularly referred to them as “those blue trains.” . . .  [Continued at   South Africa's Blue Train ]

3. MOSCOW TO MONGOLIA TO BEIJING

• The Trans-Siberian Railway: From Moscow to Mongolia to Beijing                                                                                          by Katrina Simmons

I stand, gazing out the window, elbow-deep in dishwater. Through bare trees, a comforting echo rises from the valley. Every time I heat that whistle, and the clatter of wheels on rails, I start to sway to the rhythm of the train song. Ch-chunk ch-chunk, ch-chunk ch-chunk . . .

A few months ago, I travelled with my husband 9,000 km across two continents, three countries and five time zones on the Trans-Siberian Railway. Its main line cuts a path east from Moscow, straight across Russia to the eastern port of Vladivostock. But because we wanted to visit China again, we chose, instead, an alternative route that heads south after four days, traversing Mongolia and ending in Beijing . . . [Continued at  The Trans-Siberian Railway: From Moscow to Mongolia to Beijing]

4. AUSTRALIA

• The Ghan
• by Daniel Wood

The vast and arid Outback is to Australians what the Arctic is to Canadians: mythic, seldom visited, the object of fascination, and the subject of occasional tragedy. Crossing it under normal circumstances could be unpleasant. Landmarks are few, desert tracks transitory, water scarce. (And guidebooks remind backroad drivers that drinking one’s own blood is not advisable.) But seated in a window-seat on the continent-spanning Ghan train, a traveller can contemplate fundamentals while being indulged in the luxurious. [Continued at   XX ]

>>For the latest on the global slow-travel rail trend: Trains-formers

>>For the complete list of  The World’s Top 25 Rail Journeys (2009)

>> The A-trains: 10 Dreamy Rail Vacations to Stoke Your Boiler

Cortes Island’s annual slurp fest is the perfect venue for oyster newbies to display their raw courage

by Andrew Findlay

Plump, dark clouds obscure the Coast Mountain summits that brood over the misty reaches of TobaInlet, B.C. Here on the eastern shores of Cortes Island, the Pacific has rolled out to reveal the broad, rocky tidal flats of Squirrel Cove. Now the air has a thick, briny aroma, as though someone has pried open an oyster shell and placed its slippery contents beneath my nostrils. To breathe in is to inhale the enduring mysteries of the ocean, fecund and remotely unsettling.

The enigmatic mollusk, which comes gift-wrapped in a fable of almost mythological sex appeal, is almost a religion on Cortes, albeit of the pagan variety. When the faithful are summoned to celebrate its charms at the annual OysterFest, they descend on the pebbled beach of Squirrel Cove in droves. 

When the faithful are summoned to celebrate its charms at the annual OysterFest, they descend on the pebbled beach of Squirrel Cove in droves. This May long weekend, even the threat of a spring squall has not deterred the congregation from gathering. They’re here to slurp raw oysters, sample a few from the barbecue, launch homemade bottle rockets over the beach with the kids, listen to music and salute a noble bivalve that is the livelihood of roughly 75 Cortes islanders. “I’m just a real happy camper right now,” says one of their number, Brent Petkau, as he surveys the boisterous crowd blissfully slurping the ocean’s bounty. Members of the volunteer fire department have joined young parents with dreadlocked hair and hemp clothing. Savoury aromas, slightly smoky, waft heavenward on the sea breeze. The fruit de mer’s appeal knows no bounds: Doctors, farmers, fishermen, loggers, lawyers and realtors alike line up at the oyster bar sheltered beneath a giant white awning, where volunteers man the controls of a half-dozen barbecues.

I wander over to where Kathy McLaggan is taking bids in a friendly mollusk competition to guess the weight of one particularly prodigious specimen. “This is a chance for all of us farmers to get together and feel good about what we do,” explains McLaggan, who has been harvesting oysters in the waters around Cortes for the past 18 years. “It’s also a chance for us to give something back to the community, by raising some money for the volunteer fire department.”

I take my chances and estimate the prize bivalve’s weight at 2 1/4 kilograms, while in the background a solo guitarist plucking on the nearby stage warbles a slightly off-key cover of Neil Young’s “Old Man.” I stuff my entry into the jar, and McLaggan winks, wishing me luck. Moments later, I’m jostling through the crowd in search of Marcel Creurer (pictured), a barrel-chested mountain of a man with a deep baritone voice and strikingly bushy white beard. I find him chatting with a couple of oyster neophytes at an interpretive display on shellfish aquaculture near the old wood-sided Squirrel Cove Store. Creurer hails from Saskatchewan, a province known more for its prairie oysters than the oceanic kind, but has farmed off Cortes since the mid 1990s. He is also master of ceremonies for this year’s gastronomic hoedown. It’s a tradition revived in 2003 after an earlier incarnation fizzled in the ’90s. But despite the characteristically laid-back island nature of the proceedings, Creurer tells me, there is a political subtext.

Only 13 kilometres wide and 25 long, with barely 900 full-time residents, Cortes is dappled with  white-sand beaches, secluded coves and forest-shrouded lagoons, and has the relaxed ambience of a place whose inhabitants derive their living from the land and sea. 

Recently, the oyster-farming community waged a low-intensity public relations war with “newcomers” – those who had only just discovered what others have long cherished about this sliver of an island in the Discovery Islands archipelago. Only 13 kilometres wide and 25 long, with barely 900 full-time residents, Cortes is dappled with  white-sand beaches, secluded coves and forest-shrouded lagoons, and has the relaxed ambience of a place whose inhabitants derive their living from the land and sea. But the sound of generators and the bustle of boats coming and going as oyster farmers tended their leases was ruining some residents’ sense of island idyll. And for a time, the battle had all the hallmarks of the classic island dichotomy: money versus tradition, newcomers versus old-timers; millionaires mixed in with artists, loggers, fishermen, aging Vietnam draft dodgers and, yes, oyster farmers. “They didn’t want us spoiling their view and making noise,” Creurer says with a shrug. “But today there is a lot less tension. A lot of people worked hard to mend fences.”

On the surface, oyster farming is a lonely, introspective and physically demanding way to make a buck, but one with an undeniably romantic appeal. It is an occupation governed not by nine-to-five drudgery but by the rhythmic ebb and flow of the tides. If low tide falls at 3 a.m. in the depths of a West Coast winter, then that’s when the oyster farmer dons his rubbers, rain slicker and headlamp to work the beach lease. It’s also the kind of work that engenders strong fellowship among practitioners, which makes happenings like today’s festival possible. Then again, we are talking about oysters ¬– that seafood of legendary aphrodisiacal fame that sends poets into rapture and propels chefs to new echelons of kitchen creativity.

For it’s part, the oyster is a shamelessly sedentary yet promiscuous little creature. All we humans need do is provide a clean ocean environment and this bivalve thrives. A young oyster will attach itself to one spot for its entire life and, once rooted, proceed to gorge on plankton. The hermaphroditic-looking bivalve then sends sperm and eggs adrift upon the ocean currents by the millions. Eventually an oyster egg becomes fertilized and a larva settles out of the water column and crawls along the ocean floor in search of a suitable place to drop anchor – preferably on a rock, but perhaps on another oyster shell or even burrowed into the mud or sand.

At this point, the initiate will either recoil in terror or prepare to embark on what feels like some kind of forbidden gastronomic adventure. As Mark Kurlansky, author of The Big Oyster, notes, oysters are one of the only foods routinely eaten not only raw but while still alive

There it will sit, eating, procreating and eating some more until, perhaps, we eat it, though the oyster doesn’t go easily. The adductor muscle that holds the two halves of its shell together exerts a whopping 9,900 kilograms of pressure. But when we do manage to pry open its home, and stand eye-to-eye with the raw oyster propped inside on its platter of calcium carbonate, we have time to ponder the bivalve’s imminent passage into our digestive tract. At this point, the initiate will either recoil in terror or prepare to embark on what feels like some kind of forbidden gastronomic adventure. As Mark Kurlansky, author of The Big Oyster, notes, oysters are one of the only foods routinely eaten not only raw but while still alive.

“If the oyster is opened carefully, the diner is eating an animal with a working brain, a stomach, intestines, liver, and a still beating heart. As for the ‘liquor,’ that watery essence of oyster flavour that all good food writers caution to save, it is mostly oyster blood,” Kurlansky states bluntly.

With such thoughts in mind, I amble over to a stall to sample my inaugural – fresh and raw – Cortes Island oyster. To this Kamloops kid, albeit one who relocated to the coast 10 years ago, oysters, particularly raw ones, seem as foreign as coconuts to the Inuit. So I approach the oyster altar tentatively and, without overcontemplating the slime factor, slurp back a loonie-sized specimen. It’s mild, accompanied by nothing but a tart squeeze of lime that almost brings tears to the eye. I sample another, then one more, and soon a trickle of brine dribbles down my chin. I am consuming the sea, a messy act of communion with the hundreds gathered around me.

Petkau, who no doubt has already ingested his fair share of oysters today, appears at my elbow. Born in Manitoba, he has the hale, ruddy complexion of someone who spends much time in fresh air. He planted trees for years in the woods of B.C., lived in Nelson while working as a forest technician and then, a decade ago, bought an oyster lease before moving with his family to Cortes Island. Petkau oysters now find their way into high-end restaurants from Vancouver to Toronto. While as a guest oyster shucker, Petkau has cavorted in the kitchens of iconoclast chef Michael Stadtländer and, as a lay philosopher, waxed poetic on the cultural significance of this divine shellfish on CBC Radio. But it’s events like today’s festival that put a big smile on the bearded mugs of Petkau and Creurer.

“There’s nothing like an oyster – they’re the ultimate fast food. We don’t have to feed them, we don’t use chemicals of any sort, it’s all natural,” says Petkau, as giant raindrops begin to patter on the big tent. “Though honestly, this food is all about sex appeal.”

party on the half-shell

• The Cortes Island OysterFest, held every May long weekend, features a day of oyster feasting followed by a dance at the island’s Gorge Community Hall.

An estimated 500 gourmands attended 2007’s Cortes OysterFest, with volunteers serving up 330 dozen oysters, 60 kilograms of clams and 77 litres of seafood chowder.

Folks working the oyster bar tantalized the tastebuds with such delicacies as the angel on horseback (oysters marinated in white wine, wrapped in bacon and broiled), the Mexican-style

barbecued oyster and the ever-popular oyster burger. cortesislandbc.com

What the Shell? A few oyster facts
• Oysters are a nutritionally balanced food, containing protein, carbohydrates and fats.
• The oyster most common to our B.C. plates: the Pacific (Crassostrea gigas). The Japanese native was introduced on the B.C. coast in 1912 and has been a remarkably successful pioneer ever since.
• In 2006 alone, 7,500 tonnes of oysters were harvested in B.C., with a wholesale value of close to $18 million.

In search of Obama’s fave White House cheese – made in B.C., no less

by Sonu Purhar

the getaway

For many travellers, the upper Fraser Valley calls to mind Harrison’s iconic mineral springs and spa, a 100,000-visitors-a-year attraction. Yet the region is ripe with lesser-known discoveries. Amply irrigated by the 1,368-kilometre Fraser River, the valley is one of B.C.’s major farming hubs, generating more than half of the province’s agricultural revenue. Perhaps not surprisingly, its diverse mix of fresh, organic produce and gourmet specialties is fast becoming the common denominator amongst the upper boroughs’ hundreds of family owned farmsteads.

The Farm House Natural Cheeses / courtesy Roam Mobility

In recent years, Harrison and Agassiz in particular have also ramped up the local culinary scene with a slew of community events. August’s Circle Farm Tour, for example, now entering its seventh year, is slated to host 2,000-plus slow-food lovers eager to nibble and nosh their way through the local bounty offered up by more than 60 farmers, roasters and growers. Last July’s farm-fresh picnic bonanza, Brunch on the Farm, a collaboration between specialty food homesteads Limbert Mountain Farm and Farm House Natural Cheeses, is another now-annual event thanks to overwhelming community response. Gourmands are taking note, too. Food columnist and celebrity Chef “Dez” (Gordon Desormeaux) hosts pick-your-own-ingredients cooking lessons in the Limbert Mountain Farm tea room, and word of Farm House Natural Cheeses has even spread all the way to the White House, where a platter of the dairy’s blue cheese and gouda was served at a presidential dinner last July by special request.

the hideaway

Along a winding dirt road just five km from Harrison’s seaside boulevard is South Garden B&B. Thanks in part to an unparalleled location – conveniently close to Harrison Beach but far enough away to retain the serenity of country life – the 1.5-hectare property’s three suites and one cottage are so popular that summer reservations must be booked a month in advance. (Our fave: the log-cabin-like Meadow Suite, complete with overstuffed bed, wood-burning fireplace and red-brick wall.) Made-to-order, locally sourced breakfasts are delivered in a wicker picnic basket along with dainty china and checkered cloths (the blueberry muffins are divine). But it’s the hammocks, rock waterfall, outdoor hot tub, private cooking lessons and spa services that transform this weekend retreat into a full-blown holiday, complete with hikes to the cliffside lookout for worth-the-climb valley views. From $120/night. 1-866-796-3048
the inside track

The way it was: The Agassiz-Harrison Museum’s charcoal-black wedding dress and bike-sized coffee grinders (604-796-3545). Java must-hav’a: The monsoon-cured Indian Malabar at the Back Porch coffee roaster and pottery shop (604-796-9871). Mr. Info Stream: Harrison Eco Tours’ Tony Nootebos – a mine of information on local wildlife, politics and history. The hairy truth: A certified Sasquatch researcher weighs in on “our big-footed brethren” – Harrison Visitors Centre (604-796-5580). Reel good eats”: Raven’s, for fresh seafood, hip decor and prime beachside views (604-796-8717).

>>For a spring-bloom roadtrip  in the region: Fraser Valley Roadtrip: Daffy Dally

Lead photo: courtesy Roam Mobility

by James Glave

“If you’re extra lucky, you’ll get yourselves invited to a kitchen party,” Terri Shea told Elle and me in the days leading up to our Newfoundland vacation. “Friends and neighbours get together and play instruments and sing and tell stories and drink. That’s the real deal out there.”

Shea, a close friend who hails from “the Rock” but now lives just down the street from our home on Bowen Island, B.C., had just “Screeched in” the two of us in her living room. As per Newfoundland custom, the wife and I had each downed a shot of cheap rum and kissed a frozen salmon. The coho was a West Coast stand-in for the cod that Newfoundlanders traditionally pull out of the fridge for the ceremony that awards honourary citizenship to those who, like us, “come from aways.”

So we’d necked with a fish. We’d been made titular locals and had the certificates to prove it – direct from the Internet via inkjet printer. But we both knew we were Newfoundlanders on paper only. We wanted the real deal.

Little did we know that on the last night of our future trip, we’d not only track down a bona fide kitchen party – complete with an old guy crooning fishermen’s ballads out of a ragged coil-bound notebook – we’d do ourselves even better. We’d actually host it. But then, we had a little help from Ken Sooley.

[Newfoundland Kitchen Party]

Porch party at the Mouland house / courtesy James Glave

“We’re providing a brand-new concept in experiential travel,” the 48-year-old president of CapeRace Cultural Adventures had said of his new venture, which was just wrapping up its first full season. “We’ve designed a way for people to become integrated into three local communities, and each has a different take on the Newfoundland lifestyle.” In other words, Sooley’s company could offer what Shea’s gag certificates could not – admission to the inner circle of a variety of small outport communities up and down Newfoundland’s eastern shores, complete with meaningful and spontaneous interactions between visitors and locals. Indeed, the CapeRace experience remains unique in North America, delivering an uncanned and authentic sense of place and its people. So much so, in fact, that National Geographic Traveler magazine last year declared it “one of the Top 50 tours of a lifetime.”

The appeal? Sooley connects his clients with “fixers,” the kind of on-the-ground contacts a journalist might hire to establish local sources and get the inside scoop while on assignment in a far-off country. Want to try squid jigging in a working fishboat? Just call Jerry or Elizabeth. They’ll pop over, introduce you to the neighbours – here’s hoping you can understand a word they are saying – and suggest whom you might call and what you might offer to pay.

Hi-fi at E.J. Sooley house / courtesy James Glave

And so, for 10 days in mid-July, Sooley’s company would “embed” Elle and me in a couple of remote fishing villages, some of which look much as they did in the 19th century when the salted cod trade was at its peak. We’d bunk down in heritage homes that Sooley had purchased and restored over a period of several years, one in the historic Battery neighbourhood in St. John’s, the others in the village of Heart’s Delight and the town of Bonavista – houses as authentic as the communities they stand in.

The E.J. Sooley house in Heart’s Delight, for example, belongs to Sooley’s grandfather. It still contains the original enamel appliances and fixtures, right down to the squeaky cast-iron beds and bare-bulb kitchen light we’d switch on and off via a dangling string. Meanwhile, up in Bonavista, the marvellously quirky Thomas Mouland house once belonged to a man involved in the great sealing disaster of 1914 – a dark chapter of the province’s history in which 78 sealers were inadvertently abandoned on the ice floes to perish in a blizzard.

The cold North Atlantic is just a stone’s throw from the front porch of the Thomas Mouland house, but the closest we’ve come to it so far is the “bergy bit” that Sooley has stashed in the freezer. He recovered the microwave-oven-sized piece of ice off the beach some months prior. On our first of three nights in Bonavista, it has become my routine to chip a few chunks off the salvaged berg and drop them in my tumbler of “Screech” rum, which I’m enjoying on the porch this evening with Lloyd – our designated local contact and Sooley’s sole contractor.

“You know, when we was fixing this place up,” says Lloyd, “there were 13 layers of linoleum on the kitchen floor. When one piece wore out, the old guy just laid himself a fresh piece right on top. It took two weeks to get it all up.” Lloyd decided to pay homage to the Mouland’s century-long chronicle of renovations. And so, each step of the building’s narrow staircase now showcases a different pattern of flooring, one for each decade it lay hidden underfoot.

After a few minutes, Lloyd and I are joined by Dorman,* a neighbour from across the street who owns a nearby convenience store. As the three of us shoot the breeze, a grey whale follows suit in the background, blowing plumes of salt spray into the sky a quarter-mile offshore.

Dorman, 57, explains how it used to be around here. “With the winter starms we get these days, you can har the floor of the ocean rumbling and groaning-like.” He wears dress slacks with a starched shirt the colour of Dijon mustard, his hair Brylcreemed back. “It’s like the whole bottom of the sea is roaring and heavin’. Mam said you never used to har that. It’s changin’.”

Bonavista's Thomas Mouland house / courtesy James Glave

The sea isn’t the only thing in flux here on the brink of the North Atlantic. Lloyd and Dorman and I look out across the fields of swaying long grass, past the “flakes” – spindly replica cod drying racks the local historic society has installed for the benefit of tourists – and toward the houses scattered here and there along the gravel waterfront road that passes in front of us.

“This whole field used to be full of houses, see?” says Dorman, waving his arm at the emptiness.

“What happened to them all?” I ask.

“The people died or moved. Thar houses all either fell down or was knocked down.”

About 3,700 hardy souls call Bonavista home today, but like many other towns across Newfoundland, its population has been shrinking since 1992. That was the year the federal government placed a moratorium on cod fishing in an effort to protect those few fish that remained. With the stroke of a pen, a resource and an industry already beyond the point of exhaustion was legally pronounced dead. Tens of thousands lost their jobs. The province’s economy had become so dependent on the sea that many were forced to pack up and leave, an out-migration that continues to this day. Some 5,000 Newfoundlanders still move “aways” each year, including many of the younger generation, like our neighbour back home, Terri Shea. The remaining population is greying quickly; children represent only 15 per cent of the island’s overall head count.

“It was so different when I was nine or 10,” says Dorman. “This here main road was jammed with people, all of them takin’ in the catch, splittin’ it, houses and stores and sheds all over. And this road here back of us was a railroad track. They’d bring in coal on the ships and load it up on rail cars and deliver it around the neighbourhood, see?”

I almost can, though the tracks are long gone. The lane in question – well above the level of the surrounding fields – is more roadbed than road.

“And that old wharf?” The crumbling pier is just over the fence beyond the front yard. “My brother’s best friend drowned right thar,” says Dorman. “Mam says he was eatin’ a molasses sandwich and jumping ’tween the dories. Went right in. And he was gan. Just like ’dat.”

“He couldn’t swim?” I ask, incredulous.

“None of us could,” he replies, then reflects. “There’s a lot of history thar.”

Indeed there is. And without Ken Sooley and Lloyd making the introductions, I wouldn’t have heard the half of it.

CapeRace appeals to a fairly specific kind of traveller, the sort who doesn’t mind venturing outside his or her comfort zone once in awhile. (The folks who were across the street from us in Heart’s Delight, for example, have a habit of setting up lawn chairs to watch the new arrivals. Evidently, there’s not a lot else to do.) But then, the public’s appetite for such raw experiences is on the rise.

“Ever since 9/11, people have been searching for something deeper,” says Patty Morgan, executive director of the Travel and Tourism Research Association, an industry trade group based in Boise, Idaho. “They don’t want the Holiday Inn with the pool and the continental breakfast.” And though he has not heard of anything else quite like CapeRace in North America, says Peter Yesawich, whose firm Ypartnership tracks emerging travel trends, “the appeal of this kind of deep authenticity has certainly grown. And I only see it increasing,” he adds, “particularly among the Millenniums – sub-boomer travellers in their late twenties and early thirties.”

The key to Sooley’s operation is his self-published Traveller’s Diary guidebook, available only to CapeRace clients. It’s a compilation of local lore and essential info specific to the towns on the CapeRace loop – such as the rules of the classic Newfoundland card game 120s – plus the home numbers of Sooley’s local contacts. “The neighbours are an interesting bunch and may drop by,” he notes in one chapter. “Tell Harv I sent you and ask him about the unusual bingo games he hosts on Monday nights.” (Apparently, with help from Sooley, the wiley pub owner came up with an ingenious scheme to bring in the town’s women, many of whom have husbands working aways in the Alberta oil patch: he doles out adult novelties as prizes.)

Sooley has certainly picked the right place to launch his new-era travel experiment. This trip is my first foray into Newfoundland, and I’ve never felt so much a foreigner inside my own country. Our youngest province is a region apart – a time warp to a more innocent age, largely untouched by the soul-draining crush of mass tourism. It’s a place where the culture has evolved in isolation from the rest of Canada, the result of small outport communities that for centuries were effectively cut off from one another by fierce winters.

As for the Newfoundland dialect, it can be as impenetrable as the province’s harsh interior landscape: the thousands of kilometres of scrub and ponds known simply as the Barrens. Then there are the mannerisms. Newfoundland men greet each other with a quick left-to-right sideways nod, and I know I’m starting to fit in when I experience the tradition first-hand outside the Bonavista Foodland grocery. Considering Newfoundland’s relative accessibility today, it remains one of the most unpackaged and unpretentious places on the continent. Yet for all its distinctive charms, it is refreshingly open to outsiders. That reality was only underscored on 9/11, when the small town of Gander opened its doors to the 6,500 unscheduled guests who found themselves stranded here when U.S.-bound flights were diverted by the closure of American airspace.

Catered "Light House" picnic / courtesy James Glave

We caught our first taste of this legendary hospitality in Heart’s Delight – almost halfway through our 10-day sojourn, after three days traipsing the cathedrals, back streets and hilltop cannon batteries of St. John’s. Elizabeth and Jerry, our designated local contacts, were still travelling back from Nova Scotia when we arrived at the charming oceanfront E.J. Sooley cottage. We’d feared we’d be on our own in this blip-sized outport, with no TV, radio or board games, not even a pub or coffee shop to show up at, and rain in the forecast to boot. The only available source of diversion: a pre-stereo record player tucked away in a cabinet and a copy of Reels and Jigs of Newfoundland – one of a clutch of profoundly scratched-up old LPs, the novelty of which wore thin after just a few cacophonous minutes. But then Donna Reid knocked on the door and introduced herself as Sooley’s cousin.

“Say, you know, the capelin are supposed to star’ rollin’ any day now. Would you like to go out tammara morning to see if we can see ’em?”

The capelin are a needle-thin fish, relatives of the freshwater smelt. For much of its life, the species lives in deep water, but in June and July its numbers “roll” up on Newfoundland’s beaches to spawn by the tens of thousands. The locals show up to watch and pull them out of the surf in buckets, either to smoke and eat or dig into their gardens as fertilizer. The roll is apparently quite a spectacle – a frenzied oceanic orgy attended by hungry gulls, seals and sometimes whales – and certainly one of the highlights of the year for the people of Heart’s Delight, population 663. And, said Reid, as luck would have it, the procreation party might well kick off tomorrow morning.

The dawn was just breaking as Reid drove us down a rutted, unmarked dirt road to a bluff overlooking a quiet cove. We peered out through the wet windshield.

Though Reid assured us that conditions were perfect for getting it on capelin-style – it’s raining, she said, and a frigid north wind was blowing down from Labrador – evidently the fish weren’t feeling particularly frisky that morning.

A neighbour pulled up alongside and rolled down the window. “Hey, Donna,” he said, “see anyting out thar?”

“I think I can see ’em offshore, the water looks dark, but they’re not comin’ in,” our host replied.

“Funny that, you’d think they would.”

“Yeash, we’ve got the narth wind,” she noted.

“Yeash,” the friend answered with a chuckle. “The wind we don’t wont don’t even bring the capelin in.”

The following morning, we were about to motor out of the driveway for the long haul up the Bonavista Peninsula when Jerry and Elizabeth – who is another of Sooley’s cousins – stopped by. They’d just returned from their vacation and were hoping to catch us to say hello before we left. We chatted for a bit, and though we’d had a great time in their village, doing not much of anything except wandering the bluffs, picking wild strawberries and taking the odd day trip, they felt bad for mostly missing us. They wanted to send us off properly.

“Can we talk you into taking some moose sausages with you?” Jerry offered. “They’re really, really good ones.”

If there were such a thing as an official protein census of Newfoundland freezers, moose would doubtless come out in the count way ahead of hamburger. The beasts have thrived here since the first pair was introduced from Nova Scotia more than a century back, and hunting them is for many a way of life. The population is now so healthy that the province’s long-haul truckers weld heavy steel-tube grills – called “moose cages” – to the business end of their rigs to minimize the damage of inevitable collisions.

“That would be lovely,” I told Jerry. “If you can spare one or two links, we can probably tuck ’em into the top of the cooler.”

“Great, I’ll just run over and get ’em.”

Days later, having consumed over the preceding 72 hours somewhere between eight and 10 pounds of moose sausage, moose steak and moose burgers, I am sitting out on the porch in Bonavista watching the light fade. I sip on my Screech and listen to the wind blow through the tall grass that surrounds our tiny house and the pop and crack of the ice in my glass that was last liquid around 11,000 years back.

My cellphone breaks the peace. It’s Lloyd on the line: “How you gettin’ on over thar this evenin’?” he asks.

“Very well, thanks.”

“Good. Say, a group of us boys was thinkin’ of comin’ by tammara night to play a little music thar. D’y think that’d be alright?”

“I think that would be just fine with us, Lloyd,” I say. “Just fine.”

Author James Glave

In addition to being a “titular Newfie,” James Glave is also a former Outside magazine senior editor and the author of Almost Green: How I Built an Eco-Shed, Ditched My SUV, Alienated the Inlaws, and Changed My Life (Greystone Books, 2008; $22).

An interview with author James Glave and an excerpt from his recent book can be enjoyed at MyWestworld.com/jamesglave

Listen in on more “embedded vacation” Maritimes hilarity (a little lobster fishing, “tonging” for oysters or moonshine making, anyone?). MyWestworld.com/podcasts.

the rock-onnoitre experts

CapeRace Cultural Adventures offers 10-day, nine-night packages, including rental car, exclusive use of three coastal homes and a custom guidebook. Circuits begin in St. John’s and conclude in Bonavista, departing every four days between April and October. U.S. $1,495 per person based on four-person occupancy; U.S. $2,600 based on two-person occupancy. Kids under 16 travel free. mail@caperace.com

See also: Bowen Island: One Man’s Eco Quest.

Lead photo courtesy Ken Sooley

Aviation buffs alert: the Grump is home

by Rob Howatson

Snohomish County Airport’s Paine Field continues to evolve as a kind of Disneyland for aviation buffs. Located in Everett, Washington, the airport has long housed the Boeing plant tour at the Future of Flight Aviation Centre — a Science World-like attraction filled with interactive exhibits of the latest commercial jet technology. Also onsite: the Seattle Museum of Flight Restoration Centre, where vintage warbirds are prepped for display  in Seattle, and which recently got new neighbours when Microsoft co-founder Paul Allen moved his collection of rare military aircraft down from Arlington.  And now Historic Flight at Kilo-6 is throwing open the hangar doors on its own winged jewels, including a flyable 1944 P-51 Mustang, 1954 Canadair T-33 Silverstar and 1943 B-25 Mitchell nicknamed Grumpy.

Fly-alongs for the public available within the year.

>>Meanwhile, check out this B-25 Bellingham-to-Everett cockpit footage of Grumpy’s return home

Eat It Up B.C.: Where the foodies roam

• AVin-Couver Island Roadtrip
• by Jeff Bateman

Highway travel subverts the charm of southern Vancouver Island in a blur of heavy traffic and high-speed glimpses of mountain, forest and ocean. Wine aficionados, however, can escape such freeway madness by traipsing along scenic back roads from one charming vineyard to the next on the Saanich Peninsula and in the Cowichan Valley. [Continued at AVin-Couver Island Roadtrip ]

2. Vancouver Island

• 100% Cowichan
• by Jeff Batema

Sighs of contentment rise and fall in steady waves as one score and 10 fortunate souls tuck into the fruits of the Cowichan Valley. A collection of leading chefs from this rapidly emerging culinary region has pooled its talents to raise funds for Providence Farm, a 160-hectare spread in the Vancouver Island countryside east of Duncan. For a century, the historic property was run as a boarding school by the Sisters of St. Ann. Today it serves as a therapeutic retreat for those with physical and mental disabilities, where a central part of community life is horticultural therapy. The organic produce sold at the Duncan Farmer’s Market and Providence’s on-site store is the result of willing hands sunk deep into healing soil. In fact, the crisp greens that follow the appetizer platters of Denman Island oysters were plucked from the ground here minutes earlier. As one wag at our convivial table puts it, the salad is a classic example of the “100-metre” diet . . .   [Continued at 100% Cowichan ]

3. Cortez Island

• Daytripper: Shuck it Up by Andrew Findlay

Plump, dark clouds obscure the Coast Mountain summits that brood over the misty reaches of TobaInlet, B.C. Here on the eastern shores of Cortes Island, the Pacific has rolled out to reveal the broad, rocky tidal flats of Squirrel Cove. Now the air has a thick, briny aroma, as though someone has pried open an oyster shell and placed its slippery contents beneath my nostrils. To breathe in is to inhale the enduring mysteries of the ocean, fecund and remotely unsettling. [Continued at Daytripper: Shuck it Up ]

4. The Okanagan’s Naramata

• Daytripper: Wine Country MTB
• by Chad Hershler

Kurt Flaman isn’t happy. We just started biking and already we’ve run into a pickup truck. B.C.’s Kettle Valley Rail Trail, the old Kettle Valley Railway converted into a hiking and biking route that stretches 455 kilometres from Hope to Midway, has regulations regarding vehicles that the Penticton region, it would seem, has agreed to bend. “The legacy of the KVR is to avoid exhaust and car marks,” gripes Flaman, owner of the Penticton-based Freedom Bike Shop, and I can see his point. But the interloper doesn’t bug me one bit. I’m just happy to be out of the bike van and breathing some fresh Okanagan air; the bumpy ride up to our drop-off point on nothing but espresso and pear galette has left my stomach a tad edgy. . . . The pear galette does another flip. Sigh. How can I possibly say no? [Continued at  Daytripper: Wine Country MTB]

5. B.C.

• Prime Picks: Wild Edibles
• by Ryan Stuart

No matter where one travels in B.C., there’s food in the forest. But determining the difference between delicious and deadly — be it mushroom, moss or seaweed — can be scarier than skydiving, which is where B.C.’s foodies of the wild come in. Ardent supporters of dining locally, but for free, these pros have grub-gathering neophytes turning stinging nettle into sweet tea and seaweed into trail snacks within hours . . . [Continued at Prime Picks: Wild Edibles ]

6. De Courcy Island

• Getaway: My Paddle, My Pie Lifter
• by Masa Takei

Wine bottles clank together in the boat beside me as a mountain of provisions disappears into the hatches of seven other red, orange and yellow sea kayaks. My fellow travellers fuss around their crafts, securing gear-filled dry bags and plastic bins pregnant with culinary potential. We snap together paddles, tighten life jacket straps and apply sunscreen like war paint. Meanwhile, from a seaweed-strewn log, leader James Bray surveys the activity with a benevolent smile. At eight sharp this morning, he greeted us at the Nanaimo ferry terminal with a mischievious grin. Within minutes, we were rattling across the Nanaimo River in his 15-passenger van, a hula doll wobbling manically on the dashboard, power chords of Franz Ferdinand beating out the triumphant rhythms of “Take Me Out.” Now, with the provisions almost loaded, all our party of 10 has to mull over is what lies ahead: three days of Gulf Island paddling, two nights camped luxuriously on De Courcy Island and an introduction to some of the finest cuisine that local ingredients can yield . . .   [Continued at Getaway: My Paddle, My Pie Lifter ]

7. The Fraser Valley

• Profile: Brian Harris
• by Kerry Banks

Brian Harris’s most famous photograph was taken outside the doors of a nunnery in Dharamsala, India, the adopted home of the Dalai Lama. The shot depicts two shaven-headed Buddhist nuns laughing. “They had just come outside to bang a gong to signal lunch, and I asked them if I could take their picture. Evidently, they thought this was pretty hilarious,” recalls Harris, whose iconic photo captured the nuns’ joyful amusement. The image subsequently appeared on the cover of his 1996 book Tibetan Voices: A Traditional Memoir, and later on posters and greeting cards. However, it was just one of thousands of shots Harris took during a 20-year span working as a photographer and fundraiser for Seva Canada, an organization with a mandate to eliminate treatable blindness in India, Tibet, Nepal and Tanzania . . .    [Continued at Profile: Brian Harris ]

8. A Fraser Valley Culinary Weekender                                                                                                                                                  by Sonu Purhar

For many travellers, the upper Fraser Valley calls to mind Harrison’s iconic mineral springs and spa, a 100,000-visitors-a-year attraction. Yet the region is ripe with lesser-known discoveries. Amply irrigated by the 1,368-kilometre Fraser River, the valley is one of B.C.’s major farming hubs, generating more than half of the province’s agricultural revenue. Perhaps not surprisingly, its diverse mix of fresh, organic produce and gourmet specialties is fast becoming the common denominator amongst the upper boroughs’ hundreds of family owned farmsteads…[Continued at A Fraser Valley Culinary Weekender]

9. Vancouver Island Travels With Taste

Notes toward a screenplay based on the life of Kathy McAree (think the book Eat, Pray, Love, as directed by Alfred Hitchcock): In 2001, while recuperating from surgery after a car accident, a 33-year-old woman spends a few weeks as a slow-food traveller in Europe. What happens while she’s there – the tour of Spain’s Basque region with the Texan chef, the armed man on the French night train, the 9/11 attacks, the Puglia cooking school in Italy – changes her life forever. 

 Fast forward almost a decade and McAree is head of Travel with Taste, B.C.’s first culinary tour operator – leading locals and international travellers into the West Coast food culture of Vancouver Island. Her specialties: walking tours in her home city of Victoria (“urban foraging,” as she calls it) and longer treks to the farms, wineries and under-the-radar restaurants of Salt Spring Island and the Cowichan Valley. As founder of the Victoria Taste Festival and director of the B.C. Culinary Tourism Society, she is also helping give B.C.’s west coast its status among food lovers – one formerly reserved for Europe – as a gourmet wonderland of wine, cheese, meat and seafood. “Kathy’s one of our pioneers,” says Eric Pateman, founder of Edible B.C., the largest culinary tour operator in Canada. “She’s definitely been one of the most visible forces in promoting culinary tourism and local food…”[Continued at Vancouver Island Travels With Taste]

10. Salt Spring: A Gulf Island Getaway                                                                                                                                                       by Daniel Wood

As it turns out, this moment contains everything that follows. Three round mounds of goat cheese, each originally the size and shape of a flan, sit beside half-empty glasses of wine and a diminishing supply of crackers. The cheese is so soft the weight of the descending knife slices effortlessly to the cutting board. Wisteria grows above and hummingbirds zing past in the warm, early autumn air. David Wood, the cheesemaker and no relative of mine, looks out onto a flock of 100 sheep, their lugubrious faces just beyond his fenced hilltop yard.

Wood, 66, is explaining how he has found peace on Salt Spring – far from his former high-profile Toronto job – making cheese on this quiet Gulf Island. It’s a theme reiterated by his neighbour, Robert Bateman, 80, one of the world’s leading wildlife artists, who moved from Ontario to Salt Spring 25 years ago and is – on this same afternoon – sitting in his waterfront studio painting a Siberian crane. It is a theme mentioned again and again here by those who have sought a retreat from the urban hubbub to pursue their dreams. On this 185- square-kilometre island – where no road runs straight or level for 100 metres, where residents would fight the construction of a single traffic light, and where the roadside verges contain dozens of unattended stands piled high with string beans, free-range eggs, apples, dahlias and “honour boxes” for payment – time drains away in unhurried increments, cracker by cracker, glass by glass…[Continued at Salt Spring: A Gulf Island Getaway   ]

>>For more island noshing: Swallow Tail Tours

>>For the chance to take home an Edible B.C. Tour Giveaway

While Vancouver and Whistler are jumping with frenzied Olympic activity, what are the citizens of Victoria doing?

by Rhonda May

Apparently, taking it easy with a nice cup of tea. As a matter of fact, British Columbia’s capital city on Vancouver Island has decided to market itself as a nearby refuge from the mayhem of the 2010 Winter Olympic Games with a campaign called “Calm on over to Vancouver Island.”

The plan initiated by Tourism Victoria invites visitors to take advantage of seasonally low priced accommodation and dining options while taking in the crowd-free attractions afforded by the city’s heritage architecture, colourful gardens and emerging arts and culture scene. And with Victoria only one hour away from Vancouver by seaplane, half a day by ferry, the program is meant to appeal to both besieged Vancouverites as well as tourists who would like to see more of Canada’s west coast while they are in the region. Hence, the  agency has assisted travellers with their getaway plans by providing a day-by-day transportation guide that can be downloaded here.

Here is a quick look at some top events taking place in Victoria in February.

Have a cuppa …

The 4th Annual Victoria Tea Festival will take place February 13-14, 2010, at the Victoria Conference Centre’s Crystal Garden. International tea experts and sellers will be on hand to help attendees pour and sample the complete spectrum-wheel of teas: green, black, white, oolong, herbal and floral. Teas, accessories and food pairing will be available for purchase and festival goers may also attend workshops and lectures that outline the health benefits of tea, as well as the etiquette of the serving ritual. Tickets are Cdn$20 (Cdn$25 at the door) and can be obtained by calling 250-370-4880.

Dine around …

Dine Around, Stay in Town is the year’s best opportunity for exploring Victoria’s vibrant dining scene, from small independent restaurants and unique brewpubs to iconic institutions such as the stately Fairmont Empress Hotel. The program, modeled on similar successful programs in New York, Seattle, San Francisco and Vancouver, offers menus at 50 participating restaurants with prices fixed at $20, $30 or $40 per person. All menus come with B.C. VQA wine-pairing suggestions. The city’s major hotels will join in on this deal too, with rooms offered at Cdn$69, Cdn$79, Cdn$89 and Cdn$129 under the “Pillows and Plates” plan. Dine Around, Stay in Town begins February 18 and runs until March 7, 2010.

Watch the Iron (Tea Kettle) Chef Challenge…

Courtesy Fairmont Empress Hotel

If you happen to be in town the night of February 24, you might like to take in the “Mission Emp-possible” competition between Takashi Ito, executive chef of the Fairmont Empress Hotel, and Matthew Batey, executive winery chef for the Okanagan’s Mission Hill Family Estate Winery. The two chefs will engage in friendly competition by creating five dishes each, paired with Mission Hill wines. Immediately afterwards, each dish will be publicly critiqued by a panel of celebrity judges. Kevin Brauch of the Food Network’s Iron Chef America and the Thirsty Traveller, will serve as the emcee and Mission Hill’s chief winemaker John Simes will join him in a spirited discussion of the wine and food pairings at the dinner. (Brauch will also be unveiling new Icewine cocktails at the Empress’ Bengal Lounge the night of February 23, 2010.)  Tickets for the “Battle of the Chefs” are $150 per person exclusive of taxes and gratuities; note, only 130 spaces are available. Reserve by calling 250-389-2727. The event takes place 6:30 to 9:30 p.m. in the Empress Dining Room at the Fairmont Empress Hotel. Victoria Harbourfront.

See the big picture …

Another good dining option is Vista 18 in the Chateau Victoria Hotel and Suites. The landmark rooftop dining room has just undergone an extensive facelift and will reopen to the public early in February. We haven’t seen the inside yet but sources say the décor has been simplified and modernized to put the focal point on the restaurant’s stunning views as well as what’s on the plate. Alos as part of the new look, artist Charles Gabriel has custom-designed signature glass and mirror pieces for the dining room and the adjacent Martini and Wine bar will feature an Aqua Creation silk ceiling fixture that is four feet in diameter. Executive Chef Garrett Schack’s menu using Vancouver Island ingredients, the selection of local beers on tap, as well as an extensive list of B.C. wines by the glass certainly signify a “Uniquely B.C.” experience. Vista 18 will be open all day and will offer live entertainment on Thursday, Friday and Saturday evenings.  740 Burdett Avenue., Victoria. 1-800-663-5891.

See also:

Another Chance to View the Olympic Medals

Courtesy cityfood.com

Thanks to a number of globally styled yet locally produced alcohol products making their debut on the B.C. culinary scene, 2009 could very well end up as the year of the “100-mile tipple.”

Not the least of these newcomers is Chambar Ale, a pale ale named after the popular Belgian restaurant (located in Vancouver’s Crosstown), that both inspired and commissioned it.

Says Chambar co-owner Karri Schuermans, “Our restaurant has made a reputation for its list of premium Belgian and Northern European beer. But what with import and transportation costs, the fuel usage involved and everyone’s preference these days for sustainable, local eating, we thought: ‘Wouldn’t it be great if we could offer a 100 per cent local beer product without compromising quality or changing the style of cuisine that we are known for?’”  

Read more of this post at cityfood.com

OLYMPICS UPDATE

What every volunteer Olympic ambassador needs to know

by Rob Howatson

As a lifelong Vancouverite, I love this city and accept that it is my civic duty to wear an Ask Me! button during the 2010 Games, but it is with some trepidation that I don the pin. It’s not that the buttons themselves look goofy. The City of Vancouver’s Ask Me! Happy to Help button has a pleasing, blue gradient background with an Olympic logo on it. Whistler has the Ask Me I’m a Local button which features an eco-trendy splash of green, fitting for the grassroots campaign started by Sea-to-Sky resident Janis McKenzie and ski tourist Dan Perdue.

And then there is the red button that I will be wearing. It is a harmless smiley face with the eyes replaced by the words: Ask Me. My wife brought two home from work. Her office got them from Translink which is distributing them through its Employer Pass Program, a green initiative that offers discounted transit passes to companies with 25 or more staffers pledging to use public transit.

My concern is that as I move about the city, with this red beacon on my chest, some disoriented tourist may ask me a question that I can’t field, and I will have failed as an ad hoc ambassador. So in preparation for my role as self-appointed, street concierge, here are some tough questions I’ve studied up on in advance.

Q: Where can I get a great bannockwich?
A: At the Four Host First Nations’ 2010 Aboriginal Pavilion, located at Georgia and Hamilton Streets.

Courtesy Purdy's Chocolates

Q: (from a visitor with a stutter) How do I get to the corner of Duke-Duke-Duke-Duke and Earles?
A: Get off at 29th Avenue Skytrain station, walk east to Earles Street and go five blocks south. Pause briefly at Duke and Earles to hum the 1962 Gene Chandler doo-wop hit, then keep going to Kingsway, where you will find Vancouver’s beloved Purdy’s chocolate factory. Purdy’s is the city’s oldest chocolatier, and the small retail store attached to the factory is a great place to get fresh-from-the-copper-kettle delectables such as truffles infused with luscious Mission Hill Vidal Icewine ($12.95) or Olympic souvenir boxes packed with hedgehogs and maple melties ($12.95).

Q: I wish to shake my booty? Any suggestions?

Courtesy Ellie O'Day/Boca del Lupo

A: Dance Marathon is an immersive and competitive theatre performance where you compete against other audience members in an actual dance marathon. Warning: If you are a good booty shaker, you and your partner may be out on the floor for up to four hours. Wear sensible shoes. February 9, 10, 11 and 13, 7 p.m. at the Roundhouse Community Centre (at Davie & Pacific). Tix $30

Q: Where can I see my name in lights?
A: Not sure about your name, but you can certainly see your aim in lights. Go to vectorialvancouver.net. Participate in Rafael Lozano-Hemmer’s interactive light sculpture project, which runs until February 28. Twenty robotic searchlights have been positioned around English Bay. You can program a short dance for them online. Once you are happy with your proposed choreography,  submit it together with your name, location and dedication. Every night from dusk to dawn, new designs are activated from the website’s queue. The project automatically creates a personal webpage for each participant, documenting his or her contribution with views from four project webcams.

Q: How y’all gonna pay for this little sports tourney?
A: (Silently remove English Ask Me button and replace with Farsi one. Then smile, shrug and pray that this inquisitive tourist doesn’t speak Persian. (The City of Vancouver Ask Me buttons are available in 24 different languages.)

I’m not a religious person, but I go to church – sporting a helmet, shin pads and goggles

by Andrew Findlay

Whenever I get bogged down with a piece of writing and tire of the computer screen, I hop on a mountain bike and pedal out my backyard to the Puntledge River and the head of a trail called Twisted Sister. This is my church. Instead of a preacher, pulpit and pews, there is the rush of the river, the throaty squawk of a raven echoing through hemlocks and red cedars festooned in wolf lichen and old man’s beard, and a ribbon of dirt winding through the forest. I know each log, rock and bridge intimately because I attend mass frequently.

A few years ago I adopted this trail, which had fallen into disuse since being scratched out of the forest by someone else. I cleared deadfall, carved out switchbacks where needed, raised bridges over small tributary creeks and built new sections of trail. I enjoyed being in the woods alone, doing something physical with my hands. In the years since, Twisted Sister has also been adopted by the “River Rats,” a group of Comox Valley retirees who happen to be biking fanatics who love building trail. They do a beautiful job of it, and Twisted Sister is an obvious beneficiary of their skills.

That’s one of the things I love about riding a mountain bike, beyond the buzz and adrenalin – the anarchic nature of the community that grows up around the sport. 

That’s one of the things I love about riding a mountain bike, beyond the buzz and adrenalin – the anarchic nature of the community that grows up around the sport. When mountain bikers want a new trail, they gather friends, some tools and head out to build one. They generally don’t ask permission, because doing so invites discussions about liability and legality. (I’m not advocating disrespect for the land or private property rights, here, just simply acknowledging that, for better or worse, volunteers building renegade trails is traditionally how communities develop a mountain biking scene.) Which is why Vancouver Island’s Comox Valley is now such a riding destination – along with Cumberland’s extensive network of trails splayed across the Cumberland Community Forest, a 60-hectare chunk of land purchased through donations and dogged fundraising efforts back in 2005, and the Island’s Forbidden Plateau and Comox Lake’s labyrinth of technical single track.

Several years ago, the B.C. government finally woke up to the fact that the province is riddled with a treasure-trove of world class mountain bike trails; albeit most of them illegitimate, making it difficult to market them as a tourism product. Surprisingly, countries such as the United Kingdom are paving the way when it comes to promoting off-road riding. The forestry commission of Great Britain, for example, has already established the “7 stanes” in southern Scotland, a series of mountain bike parks serviced by trailhead shops and cafes. But the good news for riders here is that B.C. has taken note of these efforts and is following suit with its Provincial Trails Strategy, an effort by B.C.’s tourism, culture and arts ministry to develop protocols around new trail development and legitimize existing ones. And to this end, pilot projects are now underway in a number of B.C. communities, including Williams Lake, Squamish and Nelson.

Of course, as with most things involving government, the Provincial Trails Strategy is bureaucratic and a kind of anathema to the anarchic spirit of the sport. But it’s also a progressive attempt to better harness the tourism potential of mountain biking.

Of course, as with most things involving government, the Provincial Trails Strategy is bureaucratic and a kind of anathema to the anarchic spirit of the sport. But it’s also a progressive attempt to better harness the tourism potential of mountain biking, and similar initiatives will likely follow suit. In concert with the Trails Strategy, for example, the Vancouver-based Western Canada Mountain Bike Tourism Associations is launching a provincial marketing strategy designed to help B.C. become “the next big thing in mountain bike tourism.” Meanwhile, renegade trailsmiths will continue their work, in their quiet unassuming way, building trails such as “Twisted Sister” and the foundation of the sport in B.C.

Alright folks – anything to add?

by Jim Sutherland

A protocol guide just issued by the City of Vancouver has people from all over mocking my town. Well, let’s just see how brightly our 2010 Winter Olympics shine compared to those of other cities, where residents didn’t know to match their trousers and socks.

In any case, the one thing the city’s 141-page guide fails to do is offer guidance to visitors. Surely they’ll be as anxious to fit in as we are to appear litter trained. With that in mind, I’ve compiled a list of the Top-5 Vancouver Don’ts.

1. Don’t call it “Van” – or “Vancity”

‘Vancity” is a local credit union. “Van” is the groovy west coast city your parents were trying to hitch to until that guy in the pickup asked them if they were looking for a job and they ended up spending the summer in Medicine Hat. Nowadays we call it Vancouver.

2. Don’t assume anyone will know what you mean when you order a “double double”

Tim Hortons arrived in Vancouver only a few years ago. Which means Starbucks and its dark-roast brethern dominate the local caffeine trade and dozens of Asian variations rule the market for cheap lunches, so the eastern-based chain remains a curiosity frequented mainly by Canadians from away. Locals are not immune to the allure of coffee that’s sweet and creamy, but they take it in the form of cappucino and a couple dozen other fancy-pants variations with names precisely callibrated to annoy traditionalists and curmudgeons.

3. Don’t venture off-piste

This warning is especially crucial for Europeans, who tend to think of out-of-bounds as an exhilarating shortcut to their favourite bistro in the charming village one valley over. But there’s only untamed wilderness north of Vancouver’s three north shore ski mountains, and fenced off slopes often end in steep box canyons, where rescue teams will eventually find you, but not necessarily before you succumb to the elements.

4. Don’t forget to order a meal with that beer

Actually, you will be able to have a drink on its own during the Games, though for a while things looked grim for anyone so rash. The problem lay with the province’s ancient liquor licensing laws, which mostly restricted bars to downtown hotels, leaving restaurants to serve the same purpose — and the drinks — pretty much everywhere else. Then in 1999 a provincially mandated requirement to order food with alcohol was finally rescinded. But last October, Vancouver city council almost enacted a new bylaw that would have required at least 50 per cent of restaurant revenue to come from food. Only an industry outcry prevented an Olympics that would have made Salt Lake City’s seem like a lost weekend.

5. Don’t be bothered by a little rain — but fear, fear, fear the snow

Inversely to the rest of Canada, Vancouver doesn’t stop — or even slow down — for rain, but it skids to a long, greasy halt when flakes fall from the sky. The causes are sixfold (at least): ultra-wet snow; temperatures around the freezing mark; hilly streets; a dearth of snow ploughs; a lack of snow tires; drivers in a state of panic and perplexment. If there’s a consolation here, it’s that by February the worst of the winter monsoons are usually over. In theory.

Not that anyone really needs a good reason to jet off to Paris. But Harry Kambolis and Shannon Ronalds had two

Kambolis, the owner of three top-rated Vancouver restaurants (C restaurant, Raincity Grill, and nu restaurant + lounge), and Ronalds, Kambolis’s business associate in the Contemporary Ocean Products line of sustainable food items, have just flown back from the international SeaFood Summit, held this February in the “City of Lights. (Yes, we restrained ourselves from giving this article the title: “Something’s Fishy in Paris”). 

See the rest of this article at cityfood.com

by Kerry Banks

Each February, a band of hardy (some would say foolhardy) mushers compete in the Yukon Quest International Sled Dog Race, following historic gold rush and mail delivery sled dog routes from the turn of the 20th Century. Contested during the depths of the Arctic winter over 1,000 miles (1,600 kilometres) of wild and hazardous terrain between Whitehorse in the Yukon and Fairbanks, Alaska, the race is a true torture test. Teams are limited to 14 dogs and one musher. Once they leave the starting chute, both the mushers and their dogs are on their own for the entire race, relying on a combination of toughness and skill, the commitment and endurance of the animals and, sometimes, luck.

This past year, B.C. writer Masa Takei braved the frigid Arctic conditions to cover the race for Westworld magazine. After his retreat to the relatively tropical climes of Lotus Land,  he then sat down with me to answer a few questions about the experience.

MyWW: What makes the Yukon Quest a more challenging dog sled race than any other, including  the Iditarod?

MT: The Yukon Quest is said to be more challenging because the mushers travel for longer distances between checkpoints, often over rough terrain and in colder temperatures. Also, they receive no outside help from handlers except during the race’s mandatory 36-hour layover at Dawson City, nor can they substitute any dogs. The way I’ve heard it described, the Iditarod is about pure speed whereas the Quest is about self-reliance. Just think about Lance Mackey, who won both races in 2007, an unprecedented feat. At least it was until he did it again the next year.

MyWW: How did you end up covering the event – and racing yourself?

MT: I’d read Adam Killick’s book Racing the White Silence and became interested in the race. Even before then though, all the Jack London and Farley Mowat stories I’d read growing up put the bug in me to find an excuse to go up north. Then I got an assignment with the newspaper 24Hours to cover the race, and ended up covering the Inuit Games, as well. But spending some time out on the trails with Frank Turner’s kennel was a real highlight. Watching from the sidelines had its moments, but it’s hard to beat getting out onto the trail, even if it gives only a faint taste of what the racers experience.

MyWW: How much time do the competitors spend preparing for the race? How do they train?

MT: Each racer has his or her own approach to training, but I’m sure that getting in the mileage is critical for both mushers and dogs. When there’s no snow, mushers use a cart or an ATV in place of a sled for dry-land training. Some mushers also cross-train with cycling, running and cross-country skiing.

MyWW: Were you impressed by the dogs in the race? If so, why? And, do they all wear booties?

MT: To understand what supreme athletes these dogs are requires thinking about what they do, day in and day out, during the race. To the layperson’s eye, however, there’s often nothing particularly impressive about them. They actually look smaller than I’d expected. It’s probably equivalent to seeing some professional endurance athletes, such as marathoners, in person. They often don’t look physically impressive. And nothing about sled dogs standing still suggests any of their phenomenal abilities. As for booties, those are mandatory equipment and Quest racers are required to have at least eight booties for each dog at every checkpoint, though when to use them is a matter of judgment. I’ve also been told that there’s a protective sheath for the more sensitive body parts on male dogs, the tip of which doesn’t have any fur,  though these are needed only when it’s extremely cold. I didn’t see any during the race I was covering. Guess it didn’t get cold enough!

MyWW: Are mushers emotionally attached to their dogs?

MT: Although I certainly saw a lot of affection being passed between mushers and dogs, I think that it really depends on the individual racer. It’s hard to imagine that a strong bond wouldn’t develop between mushers and dogs after sharing so much trail time together, though each dog also has its own personality, some I’m sure more loving and loveable than others. On the other hand, the dogs aren’t like regular pets; there’s a professional dynamic to the relationship as well, not unlike the one that existed with the working dogs who made inhabiting the North possible a century ago. It’s expensive to keep dogs, for example, and if a race dog isn’t performing well, mushers face the decision of whether they can keep the animal or not. One mushing couple, Zoya DeNure and John Schandelmeier, at Crazy Dog Kennel, run a good number of rescue dogs – unwanted race dogs that are at risk of being culled. In fact, I believe that Schandelmeier now races exclusively with rescue dogs, even if that reduces his chances of placing with the top competitors. And I know that Frank Turner, who I interviewed, makes sure that all his dogs enjoy a blissful retirement, long after they are past the point of being able to pull a sled.

MyWW: Do the competitors race at night?

MT: The clock never stops, which means the mushers run any time of the day or night. In fact, mushers talk about falling asleep on their sleds for miles at a stretch.

MyWW: Which section of the Yukon Quest is toughest on the racers?

MT: Eagle Summit, a 1,100-metre peak infamous for its wind-scoured conditions, gets a lot of attention since that’s where racers and dogs have one of the greatest chances of getting hurt. During a mushers’ meeting in Dawson City, veteran racer William Kleedehn came out and called for rerouting that section of the race. He thought that the course was tough enough without introducing that wild card, where injuries could lead to a forfeited race or worse, and that more racers would enter without that notorious stretch.

MyWW: Had you ever been in such freezing temperatures before? Were you able to adjust?

MT: That was my first time camping out in -40 temperatures,  and my first visit to the Yukon. But with the right gear, it was surprisingly comfortable. I’ve felt colder getting soaked tree-planting in B.C.

MyWW: You tried your hand at running a team for a short distance. Was it difficult?

MT: We had the benefit of running empty sleds with about half the dogs that a Quest racer needs to manage. Turner had also tailored the temperament of each musher’s team so that no one got more dog than they could handle. The most difficult part of the mushing for me was holding up my end of the deal and not letting down the team. And there was a lot more “body English” necessary than I’d expected in order to negotiate some of those turns. The dogs can sense when they’re dealing with a “gumby,” too, though the ones I was running were pretty forgiving. When I got the hang of it, I could relax enough to enjoy the exhilarating sensation, something like swooping a mountain bike over fast flowing single-track, coupled with that particular thrill of having animals pull you. The experience sure kicks the pants off riding a snowmobile.

>>View the latest footage from this year’s Yukon Quest Test Run here.

>>Read Masa Takei’s personal account of trailing the Yukon Quest racers

Lead photo courtesy Pete Ryan.

by Masa Takei

In Peter Freuchen’s account of his 1924 journey across Canada’s far north, the Danish explorer recounts how, in a driving storm, his sled dogs refused to travel any farther. So Freuchen took refuge under his dogsled, overturned against the wind-side of a large boulder, but then awoke found himself entombed, his feet painfully frozen. Barely able to move, he clawed at the hardened snow. Finally he resorted to using the edge of a polar bear hide – stiffened with frozen saliva – as a chisel. He knew one foot had already succumbed to frostbite. Unless he freed himself soon, an icy crypt would be his final resting place.

Just 1,300 kilometres up the trail, the front-runner of the 24th annual Yukon Quest 1,000 Mile International Sled Dog Race is within a half-day’s hard travel of setting a new course record.

Almost a century later, I punch out of my down sleeping bag, gasping in the Yukon’s frigid February night air. On the tarp next to me, two Muktuk Adventure guides remain peacefully encased in their sleeping bags, a light dusting of frost coating their cocoons and only a fist-size breathing hole open above their noses. The moonlight is so bright I can make out the 35 sled dogs curled up in nearby flakes of hay. Several metres beyond: two canvas wall tents with wood-burning stoves shelter the rest of our party of nine. Everything is frozen in silence. Yet just 1,300 kilometres up the trail, the front-runner of the 24th annual Yukon Quest 1,000 Mile International Sled Dog Race is within a half-day’s hard travel of setting a new course record. We dogsledding tenderfoots, on the other hand, are days away from an entirely different kind of record. Our loose collection of cryophiles from three continents has signed on with Muktuk’s Quest adventure option for an inside look at the first leg of the race in progress, followed by several days of mushing in the racers’ wake. Our mission: to dogsled a 267-km loop along the Yukon’s historic Overland Trail.

It is the early hours of Day 3 of a six-day sledding expedition, which includes a 135-km stretch of the Yukon Quest Trail. Our loose collection of cryophiles from three continents has signed on with Muktuk’s Quest adventure option for an inside look at the first leg of the race in progress, followed by several days of mushing in the racers’ wake. Our mission: to dogsled a 267-km loop along the Yukon’s historic Overland Trail, north to the first Quest checkpoint at Braeburn, then south along Lake Laberge and back to Muktuk owner and Quest racer Frank Turner’s guest ranch on the Takhini River outside Whitehorse. But at the speed we’re going, a pace comparable to that of a tricycle trailing the Tour de France, the guides have already advised we’re possibly the slowest mushers in the kennel’s 15-year history. By the end of Day 6, they joke, we’ll be lucky to have made Braeburn Lodge, the biker-run roadhouse famous for its oversized cinnamon buns.

The Yukon Sled Dog Race: From the starting point

Alternating direction each year between Fairbanks, Alaska, and Whitehorse in the Yukon, the Quest is about as long as the 1,868-km Iditarod but with less than half as many checkpoints. Above:Booties protect against paw injury and ice buildup in -50 C temperatures.

The rough-and-tumble cousin of the better-known Iditarod, the 1,635-km Quest is billed as the toughest sled dog race on the planet. Back in 1983, its creators schemed over drinks in Fairbanks’ Bull’s Eye Saloon to forge a route that would reflect the original vision of the Iditarod – before all the media and commercial interests its now-celebrated status entails. Alternating direction each year between Fairbanks, Alaska, and Whitehorse in the Yukon, this means the Quest is about as long as the 1,868-km Iditarod but with less than half as many checkpoints.  (Translation:  long stretches of isolated mushing.) Racers must also traverse four mountain ranges with heavier sleds, fewer dogs and no substitutions, and without the assistance of non-racers, except at the halfway mark in Dawson City. As well, the race is held in colder weather (temperatures this February have dropped below -50?C), with endurance and self-sufficiency prized over pure speed. Still, at their essence, both races remain a celebration of the primal partnership between humans and dogs that made early survival in the North possible.

Ten days ago, our group joined the crowd of hardy spectators at the Whitehorse starting chute to cheer on the race’s 28 competitors, including Frank Turner, as they set off on their epic run. If anyone is the godfather of the Quest it is the bearded, bespectacled and deceptively diminutive 59-year-old, entered this year with 14 of his top dogs. Blessed with the energy of someone half his age, the 1995 Quest champion has competed every year since the race started in 1984, except in 2006, when his then-26-year-old son signed up. Now the former Toronto social worker is back from a very short retirement to do battle once more and perhaps better his course record, which has stood since he set it a decade ago.

Other favourites: Lance Mackey, a 36-year-old Alaskan often compared to that champion with the same first name from the cycling world. Since coming back from his own bout with cancer five years ago, Mackey has won the Quest for the past two years. If he wins again this February, he’ll be only the second musher ever to win three consecutive Quests. (The first, Hans Gatt, an amicable Austrian from Atlin, B.C., has come second to Mackey these past two years.) William Kleedehn, 47, an AC/DC-loving hard man, originally from Germany, is another strong competitor. Despite having a prosthetic leg, “Iron Bill” has placed amongst the top five finishers every year since 2001, with the exception of 2004, when he withdrew after breaking his leg. But it’s not just men who are favoured to win. Michelle Phillips is perhaps the strongest female competitor in the field, a Tagish, Yukon, native who is supported this year by her husband, Ed Hopkins, another long-time Quest racer.

As the black-and-white bib of the last musher disappeared down the ceremonial starting chute, our group took to the highway. We would journey by truck to successive checkpoints, following the racers’ progress and counting the days to our own backcountry adventure. Carmacks, population 426, several hundred kilometres along the course and the second checkpoint, marked the next time we would see Turner, a day and a half into the race. The town’s community centre looked like the rallying point for earthquake survivors, with computers and communication centres set up on folding tables and spectators and support staff sleeping on the gymnasium floor. A white board tracked which mushers were in, as handlers and media rushed to meet incoming teams. Out in the darkness, 14 sets of eyes reflected the blinding blur of camera lights as each caravan pulled up – panting and steaming like the Trans-Siberian coming into a station – before waiting officials. Rimed with ice and snow, along with every sled and its bleary-eyed driver, the dogs still had the energy to announce their arrival with a cacophony of barks and yelps before pirouetting onto straw beds.

But the most enduring glimpse of the race came on its fourth day when, in the dark hours linking night to morning, we pulled the truck over at a rare section of the route that shadows the highway. The wilderness diorama was frozen in absolute stillness, the only sound the huh, huh panting of dogs and the swishing of a single set of sled runners over crisp snow. Overhead, the northern lights cut a green swath across the night sky as the lone musher raised a fur-mittened hand in silent greeting and veered back into the woods. Piling back into the truck, we continued on in subdued silence.

By the time we rolled into Dawson City, the mushers’ last stop before the Alaska border, it was Day 5 of the race and several teams had scratched or withdrawn, including Turner’s. Hard-packed snow makes for fast running but also more wrist and shoulder strains amongst the dogs. Turner had already dropped two, and his lead, Carter, had begun showing signs of serious tendon injury. An unfortunate turn of events, but it meant the Quest legend would now be on hand to impart a few last pointers before seeing us off on our own sledding epic, just as we’d seen him off a week earlier.

"The toughest sled dog race on the planet": Rimed with ice and snow, along with every sled and its bleary-eyed driver, the dogs still had the energy to announce their arrival with a cacophony of barks and yelps before pirouetting onto straw beds.

The Quest’s leading mushers were some 1,200 km into the race the next morning when we pulled into Muktuk Adventures’ command central. An off-the-grid outpost built with massive Sitka timbers shipped from Haines, Alaska, the main lodge sits a kilometre in from the highway on 41 hectares, along with five cabins and 108 dogs. Doddering old-timer huskies who have paid their race dues are free to wander and doze; the rest are kept tethered to their respective kennels. As we unhitched a few for a practice run, the sight of dogs freed from their perches brought on a bout of baying reminiscent of hounds on the hunt after a prison break.

By the time we set off at 5 a.m. the next day, we were trammelling eight days behind the world’s mushing elite. We focused on smoothing out the kinks: learning to set up, break camp, care for the dogs, care for ourselves. The Takhini River lay wide open before us, like a highway – broad, blue sky overhead. Then we turned into the forest and onto the Overland Trail, to camp on our second night at the old site of the Little River Roadhouse. The clearing seemed like a good spot to catch sight of the northern lights; I opted to sleep out with the guides, al fresco.

And we’re off . . . in the wake of the Yukon Quest racers

After falling back asleep the next morning, I awake to hysterical laughter. Cynthia, our pretty young guide from Victoriaville, Quebec, is doubled over, gasping for breath. The zipper on fellow guide Travis’s sleeping bag is frozen shut. But instead of helping, she is having a giggling fit as he struggles to melt the iced-up zipper with his bare thumb and forefinger, the only parts of him visible.

This time last year, Travis was guiding 12,000 km away in Tasmania, Australia, in temperatures 80 degrees hotter. Even in the early morning hours it was near impossible to walk on exposed rock in bare feet; a Therm-a-Rest sleeping pad would delaminate in the extreme heat and balloon into a cylindrical sausage. For similar reasons, we aren’t using Therm-a-Rests here, either. In inflating them our breath would freeze the layers together. I’ve already made a similar mistake with the lens on my camera, now frosted over; though no matter, the batteries are dead. Turner had warned us to keep them, and our toothpaste, next to our bodies, and I’ve followed the latter part of his advice (guarding my contact solution as well). Still, no matter how long I keep a bar of dark chocolate snug in my inner pocket, it retains the consistency of candle wax.

Like the locals, none of us feel the need to reference wind chill to hype the reality; instead we note how at -45°C the properties of things change. Metal becomes sticky. Plastic becomes brittle. Humans succumb to inertia.

Celsius or Fahrenheit, -40 is cold. Certainly, like the locals, none of us feel the need to include wind chill to hype the reality; instead we note how at -45°C the properties of things change. Metal becomes sticky. Plastic becomes brittle. Humans succumb to inertia. But as Turner advised us earlier, the cold can be a motivator during days out racing. Sleeping in his emptied sled, he makes sure not to get too comfortable so that he wakes shaking. Too cold to stay in his bag, he then rallies and heads back out. Mushers typically race for four to six hours at a stretch before letting their dogs rest for the same amount of time. But once a team is fed and bedded down, only a few hours remain for the musher to sleep before it’s time to pack up and get the dogs back on the gangline.

We, on the other hand, journey at an altogether different pace. The first order of business each morning is to get the fire started. Anyone who has read Jack London’s To Build a Fire has some appreciation of the urgency this art can have in the north. Happily, we are not in any danger of losing life or limb. But we are hungry, and with a brick-sized box of wooden matches, a large

"Husky hotel" at the mandatory 36-hour layover in Dawson City, where the first racer into town wins four ounces of placer gold.

tube of fire gel and a pile of deadfall we soon get a fire roaring. It’s so cold that even when the parts of us facing the flames feel unbearably hot, the halves turned away are icy. Or as Travis puts it, “You can tell how cold it is by how close you can get to the fire and still have your ass frozen.” The solution would seem to be to sit in the middle of the blaze, Sam McGee style. Instead, we gather as close as possible without scorching the toes of our white-rubber bunny boots while Travis reads the Robert Service tale, set on nearby Lake Laberge.

Turner, for one, has lost three teeth over the years while racing, mostly due to the frozen granola bars that can make up the bulk of a racer’s trail diet.

The literary classic is the perfect complement to the aroma of caribou sausages grilled over open flame and omelettes sizzling in a wok – thawing in the shape of the Ziploc bags they were stored in. Along with the comfort of sleeping in tents with wood stoves, we’re eating a whole lot better than the racing mushers ahead of us. But even with breakfast well underway, the dogs come first. The animals need up to 10,000 calories a day (about three times the amount devoured by us, despite the fact they are a third of our weight), so we melt snow for coffee and the moistening of frozen dog kibble. Meanwhile they have no problem devouring the frozen turkey skins we throw them, hard as hockey pucks – a trick the mushers themselves sometimes try to emulate. Turner, for one, has lost three teeth over the years while racing, mostly due to the frozen granola bars that can make up the bulk of a racer’s trail diet.

Finally we’re ready. We kneel in the snow, wrestling to get booties, harnesses and coats on the dogs and rub arnica oil on sore paws (“No feet, no dogs,” is the musher’s aphorism). Swaddled in balaclavas, insulated bib pants and down parkas over multiple layers, we move as if we have no necks. But from the way he’s hunched over, I can tell that Art’s back is bothering him. The six-foot-five retired Boeing engineer will later clip his head on a low branch, and his dogs will run back into camp without him. But he’s no rookie, having dogsledded in Sweden and Alaska and climbed some of the taller mountains in North America. On this outing, he has bonded with a fellow Shitsu owner, Elmer, a retired electrical engineer from Farmville, Virginia. Big, bushy white beard, a southern drawl (particularly when playing Waylon Jennings on his guitar), Elmer comes across a bit like Uncle Jesse from the Dukes of Hazzard, but that could just be the beard. Further down the line are Bettina, a bespectacled chemist from Brehnen, Germany, and Jen, a twice-widowed grandmother of seven from Sydney, Australia, who has never been in snow before. Her last vacation was spent whitewater rafting on the Zambezi River.

Our time spent on our knees, wrestling with our furry colleagues, is consistent with what Turner and the guides have drilled into us: mushing is a team sport. The dogsledder is merely the enabler for a team of elite endurance athletes, each with its own personality and position in the pack. Racing dogs are capable of running 160 km in a day while pulling a 100-kilogram sled and a driver – then doing it again the next day and the next, and so on. The average household pet has as much in common with these dogs as a Ford Pinto has with a Ferrari. To earn the privilege of running with such champions, we’re expected to fulfill our end of the deal.

Multiple Quest champion Lance Mackey – often compared to that champion with the same first name from the cycling world.

Swooping down a section of winding single track through aspen, I discover this means more than just slipping on the right booties and throwing down some kibble. Besides steering the sled wide of trees, leaning and shifting one’s body weight between the runners, a driver ensures that lines are appropriately tight – slowing the sled down either by standing on a patch of snowmobile tread hanging off the back or standing on a clawed brake bar so that it bites into the snow. And on the uphills, mushers get off the runners and push. Fail to do so quickly enough and team members look back over their shoulders, an ear or two flopped over, eyes looking askance.

So, I run and push. Despite the sub-arctic temperatures, I’m sweating in my wool long-underwear. I drop the coyote-fur-ruffed hood on my Canada Goose parka, though the neoprene facemask stays on, since I already feel windburned on one cheekbone. Topping another rise, I jump back onto the runners in what I hope is a fluid motion, but judging from the looks cast my way, I need practice. On a straight section, I see Art – ahead of me with his team – step on the brake, kicking up a plume of snow. Must be a steep drop or tight curve coming up. I stomp on the drag and, when the trail falls away, drop into a half-crouch while shifting more heavily onto one runner and leaning off the handlebar. The sled is light and responsive. Even so I narrowly evade clipping a snow-draped tree with my brushbow. I make a mental note to focus on picking wider lines into the turns. As I pass Art, he has his sled down on its side and has dropped a snow hook to secure his team while he sorts out a tangled line.

With our sleds empty of all gear except a thermos and some dried fruit, we roam free like cowboys, agile if not speedy. It’s a unique kind of exhilaration. And it’s easy to understand why racers get addicted – arranging their lives around the sport and competing at great personal expense.

Our mushers are now separated by speed of travel. Those building a solid relationship with their dogs, or who have more dog-power hitched to their lines, speed behind Travis where he breaks trail with a snowmobile. The still-tentative have Cynthia riding sweep, ready to jump off her Ski-doo and lend a hand. With our sleds empty of all gear except a thermos and some dried fruit, we roam free like cowboys, agile if not speedy. It’s a unique kind of exhilaration. And it’s easy to understand why racers get addicted – arranging their lives around the sport and competing at great personal expense.

The dogs – which need up to 10,000 calories a day (about three times the amount devoured by mushers, despite the fact they are a third of our weight) – always come first.

At the other end of the spectrum of speed and self-reliance, the Quest racers – both human and canine – are doubtlessly losing weight. I can’t even imagine the toll the physical effort must be taking as, heading into Day 9 of the race, they tackle Eagle Summit. The 1,100-metre peak is infamous for wind-scoured conditions and a particularly steep climb followed by an even steeper drop,  a place more than any other – on a course filled with open water, overflows (water running over river ice), glare ice and side hills – where mushers and dogs are in danger. As a CBC correspondent quoted one race official as saying, “It’s where dreams are lost and promises to God made.”

Last year, Turner’s son Saul was one of five racers trapped on Eagle Summit, pinned down by an Arctic storm. “It went from dogsled race to Apocalypse Now, just like that,” he had told us, back at the ranch. Meanwhile, the older Turner, waiting on the sidelines, could hear but not see two Hercules C130 aircraft and a Black Hawk helicopter thumping their way overhead through the blizzard. In 22 years of racing the Quest, he had never witnessed such an onslaught of weather and military hardware.

As if the trail wants to ensure that we won’t get off too easily, either, Bettina awakens us later that night to a tent filled with thick, black smoke. Ejected from our shelter by a clogged stovepipe, we briefly join the guides who are already out sleeping in -52°C conditions. The next morning a tree doesn’t move out of the way fast enough and one of the mushers ends her trip with a smashed sled. But when we finally limp back into Braeburn, Turner is there to greet us.

Most of the Quest racers, he confirms, have already crossed the finish line. Mackey won the race a few days earlier by a wide margin, in 10 days, two hours, 37 minutes, beating Turner’s old record by almost 14 hours. (“Records are made to be broken,” Turner says, “and I’m glad it was Lance.”) Gatt has again come in second. Kleedehn has placed in the top five once more, edged out of third place by a mere three minutes. Michelle Phillips missed a top five placing by just over half an hour, and six racers have scratched. But there are a few others still out racing. (The “red lantern,” or last finishing racer, won’t cross the finish line for another two days, spending almost 15 days out on the course.)

Settling in for a burger and a beer – and a behemoth cinnamon bun – at the Braeburn Lodge, we drink a toast to the official racers before congratulating ourselves on our own modest success. We’ve ventured forth in the unforgiving cold: man, woman and dog. All have returned with no loss of life or limb. And though we’ve mushed less than a tenth of the distance the Quest racers ultimately cover, I contend we’ve had twice the fun, in half the time.

Keep  track of the current Race standings here

Track the Race LIVE

Learn more about the Mushers and sled dogs

Read Kerry Banks’s interview with the author, Masa Takei, here

See also: Sled Dog Races a Mushing Success

Photos courtesy Richard Hartmier

B.C.’s BEST AutoObesity program receives its first “car donation” – while the donor hopes to lose his “afternoon-coffee-hour gut”

by Steve Beck

Since BEST – B.C.’s Better Environment, Sustainability and Transportation centre – launched its AutoObesity program in December 2009, it has had hundreds of inquiries, such as “How does the program work?” and “Who can participate?” And Drew Lemen’s recent AutoObesity experience not only answers most of these questions, it’s a great case study of a family that has taken the plunge and gone from being a two-car to a one-car household. We interviewed Lemen (pictured below), a retired public servant, at his home in south Richmond, B.C. – after he realized that with two cars for just two people, his household had one more vehicle than necessary. The result: Lemen has donated one of them to BEST.

MyWW: How do you donate a car?

DL: I just called up BEST and they met me at my condo and explained how AutoObesity works. As I was already committed to making a change, I didn’t need convincing as much as some help making the change, which is what the AutoObesity program is about.

MyWW: Did you get anything in return?

DL: A charitable tax receipt, based on my car’s fair market value (less the value of any benefits); plus a “BEST Mode Shift Membership” for transportation planning. I also get other assistance for making the switch, such as a Car Co-op and/or Zipcar membership, bicycle rain gear or safety gear if I need it, safe-cycling courses, a discount on an ecycle and transit passes. I haven’t decided yet exactly what help I need, but I have 30 days from the time of my donation to figure it out, given that the AutoObesity program is tailored specifically to the family or household making the car donation.

MyWW: It’s not easy giving up the extra wheels, eh?

"The average car costs between $8000 and $10,000 per year to own and operate, taking into account insurance, licensing, financing, maintenance, fuel and depreciation of value. So anything that saves me that much money is worth looking into." –Drew Lemen

DL: Actually, the decision was fairly simple. Having my own car is convenient, but it also has its downside. I’d really like to lose this afternoon-coffee-hour gut, for example, and cycling and walking regularly will help me do that.

MyWW:Any other payoffs?

DL: Even eliminating just one car helps reduce traffic and noise outside our apartment. I’d like the neighbourhood to be more livable, and this is a step toward that, something I can do myself. It’s hard to see so much of the public space around here dedicated solely to cars – without the same consideration for  walkers, cyclists, skateboarders and rollerbladers. Giving up my car will help make the streets a little friendlier. It also helps make the air cleaner. I want to do my bit to fight climate change and reduce my GHG footprint.

MyWW: And the cost savings aren’t too shabby, either, right?

That was one of my prime motivations. In fact, it was the cost-breakdown analysis of car ownership on the AutoObesity website (based on data from the CAA 2009 Driving Costs pamphlet) that eventually convinced me to give up my car altogether and start biking and taking transit. The average car costs between $8,000 and $10,000 per year to own and operate, taking into account insurance, licensing, financing, maintenance, fuel and depreciation. Anything that saves me that much money is worth looking into, and I’m definitely looking forward to saving that money every year. Plus, it’s a lot easier to donate my vehicle and do some good, rather than deal with the hassle and uncertainty of trying to sell it on my own.

MyWW: So how’s the “gut-reduction” program going?

Ha! Well, I’m still commuting twice a week to Kitsilano and once a week to Burnaby to tutor English to ESL high-school students, which is about  100 km per week. But now I’m using transit or cycling and walking. So it’s different, definitely. Still, I’m enjoying getting more fresh air and exercise, without having to drive to the beach or the gym. I also like how my travel options have actually increased. When people become car dependent, they tend to see their vehicle as the only viable option for doing chores, going to appointments, commuting, going out to dinner, for everything. Now I’ve got more flexibility. So yeah, “it’s hard to let go.” But after taking a couple of weeks to “say goodbye” to the old wheels, I’ve let ‘em go.

Photos courtesy Martin Gunst, BEST AutoObesity program coordinator

It’s always wise to contemplate the big picture – i.e., the history books – when bemoaning the latest Olympic “crisis”

by Kerry Banks

Can you have a Winter Olympics without snow? A lot of people in the Lower Mainland are starting to wonder. After all, this has been one of the mildest winters in recent memory and the snow that fell on the local mountains in November appears to have been completely washed away by persistent rains. Recent news reports have suggested that Olympic organizers were considering moving the freestyle skiing and snowboarding events from Cypress Mountain to another location. However, Olympic officials deny that is not the case, and insist that everything is under control. “We have no intention of moving from the site,” declared Tim Gayda, VANOC’s vice-president of sport.

Gayda also surprised reporters by advising, ‘There really is no snow shortage. Cypress has an exorbitant amount of natural snow at higher elevations. It’s free, it’s available and it’s getting used.’

Gayda also surprised reporters by advising, “There really is no snow shortage. Cypress has an exorbitant amount of natural snow at higher elevations. It’s free, it’s available and it’s getting used.” By “getting used,” he means that snow is being transported in from higher elevations and from Manning Park to ensure there’s enough snow cover so that the six skiing and snowboarding events scheduled for the mountain will proceed as planned. If necessary, straw bales and wood forms will be used as foundations for the snowboarding halfpipe and other jumps and obstacles in some of the skier and boardercross courses.

Meanwhile, 35 snow guns continue to blast artificial snow over the mountainsides, producing a frozen, winter-white effect for spectators and what high-performance athletes will recognize as a good base for sliding. Man-made snow is evidently “more resilient” than real snow because it lasts longer. Since November, Cypress has converted almost 100 million litres of water into fake snow.

It may not be an ideal situation, but then climatic conditions are often problematic during the Winter Olympics. At the 1928 Games in St. Moritz, Switzerland, the opening ccremonies were held in a howling blizzard, but shortly afterwards the weather turned so mild that organizers considered cancelling the games outright. In fact, the final of the 10,000-metre speedskating race was terminated, because the outdoor rink turned to slush, though the 50-kilometre cross-country ski race went ahead even though the temperature was a balmy 25 degrees Celsius.

Warm winds, rain and a lack of snow caused a similar crisis at the 1964 Winter Games in Innsbruck, Austria. Things were so bad that the government called in the Austrian army to save the day. Soliders carved out 20,000 ice bricks from a mountaintop and transported them to the bobsled and luge runs. They also carried 40,000 cubic metres of snow to the alpine venues and then packed the white stuff onto the slopes by hand and foot.

In 1988, Calgary’s Olympic organizers ignored their own consultants’ advice not to build facilities in exposed areas, and paid for it when snow-eating Chinook winds blew in.

In 1988, Calgary’s Olympic organizers ignored their own consultants’ advice not to build facilities in exposed areas, and paid for it when snow-eating Chinook winds blew in. The windy weather cost the 1988 Winter Games more than $1 million in ticket refunds. Because there was so little snow, tons of white silica sand was trucked in from B.C. to make the surface of McMahon Stadium look snow-covered for the opening ceremonies. The Chinooks destroyed the inflatable Rocky Mountains used during those same ceremonies, raised temperatures and made scheduling a monumental headache. The 90-metre ski jump alone was cancelled seven times. The initials of Canada Olympic Park (COP), the wind-lashed site of the ski jump, bobsled and luge, came to stand for “Cancelled or Postponed.” All of the alpine events took place on artificial snow, and the gusting winds sent a ski jumper flying into a camera tower.

In 1998, at Nagano, Japan, a combination of fog, driving rain and snowstorms wreaked havoc with its alpine skiing programme, with the showpiece men’s downhill event on the opening Sunday having to be postponed three times. The storms also caused scheduling nightmares, epic traffic jams and, no doubt, innumerable sleepless nights for Olympic organizers.

But all of those Olympics continued to the finish, which is exactly what will happen here, even if it requires a lot of improvising, extra work and only a bronze medal for VANOC from the David Suzuki Foundation for its sustainability efforts (raking in snow by helicopter not being the most sophisticated environmental option). After all, this week, ever-optimistic Olympic officials vowed that all of the Games’ snow venues will be “pristine,” “white” and “magical” – despite meteorologists insisting there is little hope for much new snow.

by Graeme McLaughlin

Recent publicity surrounding Toyota’s recall of vehicles with faulty accelerator pedals is a good reminder of how important it is to know what to do if your accelerator pedal ever gets stuck or your vehicle accelerates for no apparent reason. If you ever find yourself in that situation, experts recommend the following:

Gas pedal stuck? Stay calm, but act quickly

1. Keep looking at the road ahead. Looking away from the road to see what’s wrong with the pedal greatly increases your chances of crashing.
2. Be sure your foot is completely off the accelerator. Some crashes caused by stuck accelerators have later been found to be the result of an honest mistake (i.e., drivers thought they were pushing on the brake).
3. Put the vehicle’s transmission in neutral or, if the vehicle has a standard transmission, depress the clutch. Do not turn off the engine. Doing so will cause the power assist to the steering and braking to disengage – and make it difficult or impossible to steer and harder to brake. Plus, turning the key too far could possibly lock the steering wheel.
4. Steer the car to a safe place and stop, then turn off the engine.
5. If stopped by the side of a road, turn on emergency flashers and put out reflective triangles. If you’re unable to get the vehicle off the roadway, allow it to come to a stop and turn on emergency flashers.
6. Do not restart the vehicle.
7. Call for help using a cell phone, or wave down a passing vehicle, if safe to do so.

Sticky gas pedals: Prevening the problem

Vehicle owners need to check regularly for any floor mats and/or loose wiring that may be interfering with pedal action (accelerator, brake or clutchpedals). And drivers who experience rapid or unwanted acceleration while driving should have the vehicle checked immediately by a qualified auto technician. Owners of recalled vehicles need to also adhere to any notices as soon as possible to ensure the safe operation of their vehicles.

B.C.’s BCAA and other transportation experts emphasize that drivers who choose to operate a recalled vehicle and notice problems with its accelerator pedal (i.e., hard to depress, slow to return, inconsistent operation) should pull over immediately at the nearest safe location, shut off the engine and contact their dealership. Alternatively, those motorists with roadside assistance memberships, including BCAA members, can telephone for immediate roadside or towing assistance.

by Rob Howatson

courtesy Dan Fairchild

The sculptures and images of Vancouver’s streetscape blitz are the product of several arts initiatives that are intersecting as Vancouver heads into Olympics mode. Many of the bizarre and beautiful creations popping up around Vancouver and Richmond, for example, are part of the Vancouver Biennale, an arts exhibition that, as its name would suggest, is supposed to take place every two years – but in this case is spanning 2009 to 2011.

The Biennale features 39 installations collectively worth more than $10 million: pieces that range from the Gao brothers’ Miss Mao Trying to Poise Herself at the Top of Lenin’s Head, which is drawing cheers and jeers at Elmbridge and Alderbridge Way, to Jaume Plensa’s WE — a human form, woven from letters, that haunts Sunset Beach at night when the sculpture glows white. A map showing the locations of the different Biennale sites is available here.

courtesy Dan Fairchild

The City of Vancouver has also launched The Olympic and Paralympic Public Art Program, which includes more than 20 new permanent and temporary public artworks commissioned for the 2010 Winter Olympic Games. This explains why Vancouver’s City Hall is trimmed with LED lights that produce a cascading effect for a few seconds at the top of each evening hour. (See the YouTube video here.) Thanks, German artist Gunda Förster. The program also explains why Vancouver artist Vanessa Kwan will tow a skewed kiosk around the city February 21 to March 21 and hand out postcards to passerby. The postcards have die-cut holes in them enabling recipients to frame the real vista and take their own photos of the landscape within the dreamscape. The images can then be posted to Flickr so that suddenly the viewer is the artist.

courtesy Dan Fairchild

Also be sure to check out Ken Lum’s Monument for East Vancouver at 6th Ave and Clarke Drive, Stan Douglas’s Abbott and Cordova, which is located in the atrium of the new Woodward’s complex near Abbott and Cordova and Michael Lin’s enormous hand-painted mural that covers the Vancouver Art Gallery’s Georgia Street façade.

>>Which artworks, if any, do you find uplifting?

>>Which ones should be chased out of town, as was the case with Dennis Oppenheim’s Device for Rooting Out Evil, the six-metre-tall, upside-down church that once graced the lawn at Coal Harbour’s Harbour Green Park?

Photos courtesy Dan Fairchild

And you thought the Olympics were all about sports

by Jim Sutherland

Even given the performances of Michael Phelps and Usain Bolt, it’s possible the most enduring memories of Beijing’s 2008 Olympics won’t be athletic achievements at all, but rather architectural ones: the venues Phelps and Bolt excelled in, especially the Water Cube and Bird’s Nest Stadium.

VANCOUVER CONVENTION CENTRE EXPANSION Not entirely a thing of beauty from the street? But a beautiful solution to the problem of where to put a convention centre? Photo courtesy DA Architects/Planners

Yet with its 2010 Olympics, Vancouver hasn’t been going for architectural gold; there have been no competitions and no big-name international architects. Still, the result is several impressive facilities that, if not quite world-beating, absolutely warrant inspection. The annoying irony is, until long after the Olympics are over, there will be no way to see many of them except from a distance. Try to sneak in for a look at the athletes village or convention centre expansion this February and the interior you’ll be checking out instead might be the local equivalent of Guantanamo.

That’s where a Vancouver show that opens February 8 comes in. The little gallery attached to the offices of the Architectural Institute of British Columbia is almost always an interesting place, but its “Bien Venue: 2010 Games Architecture” is shaping up to be something of a blockbuster. The biggest show the gallery has ever mounted highlights 20 competition and non-competition venues and the role of B.C. architects in designing them. There are drawings, models and photographs. And after viewing the exhibit people will be able to make their own, entirely subjective, picks of the Games’ most important venues, as I’ve done below:

Top 5 Architecture Medallists, Vancouver 2010 Olympic Games

1. The Athletes’ Village Among the most environmentally sustainable communities on the planet, Vancouver’s Athletes’ Village is designed to achieve “net zero,” meaning it will produce as much energy as it consumes. (For the sake of their future tax bills, Vancouverites hope the bailed-out development also achieves net zero in terms of the money invested.) Curious what the buildings look like inside? Stop into the adjacent sales centre, pretend you’re interested in a $1,000-a-square-foot condo, and tour the display suites.

Photographer Hubert Kang / Courtesy of Cannon Design

2. Richmond Speed Skating Oval With that amazing arched roof made from pine-beetle-damaged wood, it’s as much an engineering marvel as an architectural one.

3. The Woodwards complex Okay, this isn’t an Olympics venue (though it might not have happened had the Games not landed here, in Vancouver) and it’s not part of the AIBC show, but it’s only a block away so walk over and check it out — particularly the Stan Douglas photo installation in the main courtyard. Keep in mind that less than five years ago, the derelict department store centred what was virtually a no-go zone, and prepare to be stunned at the transformation both on site and in the surrounding neighbourhood.

4. Vancouver Convention Centre Expansion (media centre) Some feel it’s not entirely a thing of beauty from the street, but it’s a beautiful solution to the problem of where to put a convention centre and quite a sight – both inside, where wood is the star, and from above, with that vast green roof.

FOUR HOST FIRST NATIONS PAVILION The most ambitious of the 2010 Olympic Games' temporary pavilions? Photo courtesy Hotson Bakker Boniface Haden Architects/Urbanistes

5. Four Host First Nations Pavilion The most ambitious of the temporary pavilions and a prime example of the innovative work Hotson Bakker Boniface Haden Architects has been doing for First Nations clients.

6. A bonus selection that’s even farther offside than Woodwards, the Millenium Line: I know, it’s the Canada Line that was built for the Olympics, and it’s become an instant hit, with ridership much higher than expected. But stations on the turn-of-the-century Millenium Line are the precursor to all that creative and progressive use of wood seen in so many of the Olympic venues. Plus, unlike the mostly underground Canada Line, it’s a true Skytrain, travelling at rooftop level with great views of the snow-capped (we hope) North Shore mountains.

Historians remind us of the unsavoury origins of the Olympic Torch

by Kerry Banks

The Olympic torch relay is rapidly nearing the end of its 100-day journey across Canada. One of the most popular Olympic rituals, it is an ideal vehicle for media consumption and corporate sponsorship and, judging by the crowds of cheering and smiling celebrants now greeting its appearance prior to the 2010 Olympics and Paralympic Games, the torch also has an inspirational power. Ironically, according to historians this symbol of hope and friendship arose from very dark origins – origins that are, for obvious reasons, not well-publicized by VANOC, which states on its website that the birth of the torch relay can be traced to ancient Greece and that the first Olympic torch relay took place in Oslo, Norway, in 1952.

According to historical reports both statements are  a tad misleading. Experts note that the Olympic torch relay was actually invented by the Nazis in 1936 as a propaganda device to popularize fascism throughout Europe and within Germany. As author Tony Perrottet notes in his book The Naked Olympics: “The torch relay is so ingrained in the modern choreography that most people today assume it was a revival of a pagan tradition – unaware that it was actually concocted for Hitler’s Games in Berlin.”

A sacred flame did burn 24 hours a day at Olympia, and Greek runners did pass pass a torch to light a sacrificial cauldron at some ancient festivals. But the Greeks opened their Olympics by word of mouth, sending heralds – not torchbearers – racing through the streets. The tradition of carrying the Olympic torch to the main stadium at Olympic Games did not become a fixture of the Games until 1936, when a 12-day run opened the Summer Games in Berlin.

The idea for the torch relay came from German sports minister Carl Diem, who intended to link Nazism to the civilized glories of classical Greece (which the Reich’s academics were arguing had been an Aryan wonderland). But Nazi propaganda minister Joseph Goebbels envisioned it as something more: an opportunity to make a bold political statement. The 1936 relay, which took German runners through Greece, Bulgaria, Yugoslavia, Hungary, Austria and Czechoslovakia (welcomed enroute by pro-Nazi demonstrations), was nothing less than a rehearsal of the Nazification of Europe. In fact, in an editorial at the time, the New York Times wrote that the relay was “a strategic highway that traced the line of the German Drang Nach Osten – the drive to the East that the Kaiser sought in the First World War,” and which Adolph Hitler was soon to put into practice.

_______________________________________________________________

Hitler’s propaganda machine covered the torch relay in great detail,

broadcasting radio reports from every step of the route and filling the Games

with the iconographyof ancient Greek athletics.

_________________________________________________________________

In fact, Hitler took personal interest in the ritual and pumped funds into its promotion. His propaganda machine covered the torch relay in great detail, broadcasting radio reports from every step of the route and filling the Games with the iconography of ancient Greek athletics. In Berlin, the flame was carried the last kilometre along the city’s main boulevard by a runner named Siegfried Eifrig, who was watched by hundreds of thousands as he transferred the flame to a cauldron on an altar surrounded by huge flags adorned with swastikas. And despite its political overtones, the event was an unqualified success for the organizers and was immortalized by director Leni Riefenstahl in her 1938 film Olympia.

Diem and Riefenstahl were also responsible for popularizing the five interlocking rings as the symbol of the Games. The ring symbol had been designed in 1913 to symbolize the first five Olympics, but nobody made any use of it until the Nazis in 1936. And for the opening segment of Riefenstahl’s film, Diem had the Olympic rings carved into the sides of a stone altar at the ancient Greek city of Delphi, thus spawning the myth that the symbol dated back more than two millennia. When visiting Delphi in the late 1950s, two British authors Lynn and Gray Poole then saw the stone and reported in their History of the Ancient Games that the Olympic rings-design came from ancient Greece. And so, with Hitler’s influence, the rings became part of the Nazi pageantry at Berlin, and have come to symbolize the Olympics ever since.

______________________________________________________________________

Though America’s Avery Brundage was expelled from the America First

Committee for his Nazi sympathies, he was elected a vice-president of the International Olympic

Committee in 1945, and in 1952 became president, a position he would hold until 1972.

_______________________________________________________________________

Interestingly, Germany hosted both the Winter and Summer Olympics in 1936. It had been awarded the honour in 1931 as a means of welcoming the country back into the European fold, a gesture that backfired when Hitler came to power in 1933. As the racist and brutal policies of the Nazi regime became known, Jewish groups and others in the United States called for a boycott. But America’s own Avery Brundage, president of the U.S. Olympic Committee at the time, actively undermined the boycott campaign, dismissing the protest as a “Jewish-Communist conspiracy,” and succeeded in having the USOC reject it in a committee vote. (In 1941, Brundage was expelled from the America First Committee for his Nazi sympathies, though he remained a staunch defender of Germany during and after World War II. Even so, Brundage was elected a vice-president of the International Olympic Committee in 1945, and in 1952 became president, a position he would hold until 1972.) Meanwhile, in order to make the Games a success and legitimize Hitler’s regime in the eyes of the world, Germany in 1936 took great efforts to camouflage the evil nature of the Nazi regime. Anti-Jewish slogans were removed from walls and roadsides and every sign of racial, religious or political persecution was temporarily hidden. Though incredibly, the German Ministry of the Interior built a concentration camp scarcely a half-hour’s journey from the new Olympic Stadium, where it jailed 80,000 Jews, gypsies and socialists.

Germany would dominate the competition at the 1936 Summer Games, winning 89 medals (33 more than the second-place USA), though the greatest individual performance was turned in by Afro-American sprinter Jesse Owens. Debunking Hitler’s belief in Aryan supremacy, the 22-year-old claimed gold in the 100- and 200-metre dashes, the long jump and the 400-metre relay, with each victory greeted by loud applause from the crowd. Yet despite this setback, Hitler was pleased with the results. He ordered architect Albert Speer to draw up plans for a colossal, 400,000-seat stadium in Nuremburg, saying, “In 1940, the Olympic Games will take place in Tokyo. But thereafter they will take place in Germany for all time to come.”

Fortunately, this was one Nazi prediction that did not come true.

>>Interested in learning more?

Check out the current exhibit at the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre entitled “More Than Just Games: Canada and the 1936 Olympics.” Its display of photographs, documents and artifacts demonstrates how Hitler’s Third Reich turned the Games into a showcase for Nazi propaganda, and how Canadians became part of the spectacle.


Address: Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre: #50 – 950 West 41st Avenue, Vancouver, B.C.

Contact info: 604-264-0499; info@VHEC.org

>>Related reading:

The train’s appearance in White Rock coincides with the city’s 4th annual “Bite Of The Rock” restaurant festival, which runs until February 9 and features 18 participating eateries offering three-course meals for $15-35. On February 9, Royal Hudson passengers who arrive early for the noon steam run to Vancouver (we’re talking 6:30 am early) can also cheer the Olympic torch as it passes through the Boundary Bay town. The relay rally will be followed by a pancake breakfast and musical performances at the White Rock Community Centre, 15154 Russell Avenue, from 7:30 am to 10:30 am.

The Royal Hudson's appearance in White Rock coincides with the city’s 4th annual “Bite Of The Rock” restaurant festival, which runs until February 9 and features 18 participating eateries offering three-course meals for $15-35.

As for the Royal Hudson’s adopted home at the West Coast Railway Heritage Park in Squamish, work is nearing completion on the museum’s 22,000-square-foot CN Roundhouse and Conference Centre. Once finished, sometime in April or May, the impressive train gallery will be the first roundhouse built in Canada in more than a century. The facility will have berths for seven vintage locomotives and railcars, and room for 1,200 conventioneers, making it the largest banquet-meeting facility on the Sea to Sky Corridor. That’s a lot of train spotters.

One can already hear B.C. folk musician Dave Baker’s Royal Hudson echoing through the rail yard:

Once again we’ll hear those sounds of yesteryear -
that haunting wail our fathers used to know,
and we’ll look into the sky to see her plume that billows high
as she crawls along the rocky shore below.

Check out Chor Leoni’s rousing version of this tune, complete with Ken Storey images of mighty #2860 in all her pre-diesel glory.

And share your Royal Hudson memories with us.

Lead photo courtesy West Coast Railway Association

With less than 30 days to go until the Olympics arrive, we’ll be tracking the best deals and specials to be found at restaurants, bars, street venues and food and wine stores within (and close to) the pedestrian red-zone entertainment areas of the city. Information will be organized by streets and neighbourhoods.  For complete information, be sure to access this page from the Daily News Section or if you are using an iPhone, from the hot button on our home page. New items will be added daily. Restaurants and retailers may send us their updates via email to contact@cityfood.com. We will also be posting all updates to our Twitter and Facebook accounts (to be announced).

Link to this article at cityfood.com

OLYMPIC UPDATE

Red Mountain’s Canadian Freeskiing Championships, Rossland

Helmet?  Check.

Goggles clear, avalanche gear secure?  Check.

Red Mountain's Canadian Open Freeskiing Championships: The skier’s sole mission is to ski gnarly, cliff-riddled, hellish steep terrain normally reserved for mountain goats and birds – and not only survive but make it look good.

Run burned into memory? Drop in, carve hard right, drop speed for five-metre cliff, recover from choppy landing, head left, drop snow pillow-line next to broken tree, pick up speed for next hit, avoid thick trees below, head right again to fat cliff. Stomp landing you can’t see from above. Shred to bottom of run.  Ok.

Heart pounding. Ski tips hang over an airy drop-in, and the entire world drops away from this ridge-top perch to a vertiginous world of white. 3-2-1… Dropping!

This is what freeskiers and spectators alike expected at the 9th annual Canadian Open Freeskiing Championships at Rossland’s Red Mountain Resort this last weekend: January 23 to 24, when the skier’s sole mission was to ski gnarly, cliff-riddled, hellish steep terrain normally reserved for mountain goats and birds – and not only survive but make it look good.

While you’re there, ski a line and raise a glass to Captain Jack Carey, a Red Mountain local and long-time director of the Canadian Open Freeskiing Championships.

A panel of judges evaluated each skier, tallying scores based on style, flow, difficulty of line and any tricks they managed to squeeze into their extreme ski lines.

Sound like fun?  Head to Red Mountain February 21 to 23 to watch dozens of elite athletes from around the world, plus local favourites Alex Berg, Colston Villanueva-Beatson and Fernie’s Luke Nelson, fresh off a January 12th third-place finish at the Subaru Canadian Freeskiing Championships in Revelstoke, compete for $10,000 in total prizes.

While you’re there, ski a line and raise a glass to Captain Jack Carey, a Red Mountain local and long-time director of the Canadian Open Freeskiing Championship, who died this past year. Jack was one of the characters who make Kootenay Ski towns what they are.

Photos: Courtesy Red Mountain

On a dark and rainy Vancouver evening, I paid a visit to the trio behind the Clean Bin Project. Jenny Rustemeyer, Rhyannon O’Heron and Grant Baldwin are housemates who more than a year ago decided they’d simply had enough of  ”stuff.” They also realized that if they could cut down on all their stuff they could drastically reduce the amount of garbage they were sending to the landfill. And thus their Clean Bin Project was born.

The Clean Bin Project after one year: That's it, garbage-wise.

The challenge was this: produce zero landfill-bound waste for one year (or as close to zero as possible). With individually labelled bins, Rustemeyer, O’Heron and Baldwin would also compete for the honour of generating the least amount of garbage in their household.

Though this sounds like a simple challenge, if you were to pick apart your garbage and examine its origins, you’d see that the society we live in makes it rather difficult to truly achieve zero waste. So many of the things we buy are not compostable or readily recyclable. As well, certain types of recycling are not necessarily better for the environment.

Project Evolution

The Clean Bin Project, Vancouver, B.C.: Meticulous recycling.

The group knew from the beginning that recycling would not be the complete answer to the challenge. While they would meticulously separate recyclables (they’d even stash a bin for “metal bits” under their sink), the first “R” in waste management, Reduce, would be embraced as the guiding principle for the project. Soon, buying things – consumption – would come to a standstill; ground rules on consumption would be laid (food and personal hygiene necessities were exempt, for example); Rustemeyer would start a blog to share the group’s progress and Baldwin (a professional videographer) would document the experience on video.

Because of the project, Rustemeyer also became much more involved with food and food production. “Food packaging generates a lot of waste,” she notes, so she became a dedicated customer of farmer’s markets (where one can purchase unpackaged goods) and learned to can her own sauces and preserves. “Gardening also really took off,” says Rustemeyer. Cultivating just 70 square feet in their yard, she and O’Heron were able to harvest potatoes, garlic, onions, lettuce, kale, spinach, four varieties of tomatoes, beets, peas, cucumbers, zucchini, rhubarb, basil, oregano, thyme, mint, blood sorrel, lemon sorrel, parsley, chives, radishes, cilantro, carrots and sunchoke through the year. Oh – and berries were planted for next year.

O'Heron holds up her bin.

Friends and acquaintances were also educated on the project. Even so, receiving gifts turned out to be a challenge. The three would gladly give and accept gifts of experiences, such as dining or live entertainment, yet still took care to be gracious by accepting occasional material gifts. “Some get it and some don’t,” explains O’Heron, who, like her housemates, occasionally brings home “incidental” packaging to be properly disposed of. “We didn’t want to make people feel bad,” adds Rustemeyer. “This was a personal challenge for us; we didn’t want to preach.”

The Clean Bin challenge ended in July of 2009, but it would appear the behaviours have stuck. Once the systems and routines were put in place, it made sense to continue the low-consumption lifestyle, and their lives have been enriched for the better. Then and now, instead of buying stuff, “we do more. We go out; eat better. We go on bike trips on weekends.” Sounds like a decent trade off!

The Documentary

Baldwin had always wanted to film a documentary, and this was the perfect project. “We want to make it fun and entertaining; to inspire people,” says Baldwin, who acknowledges that the recent onslaught of environmental films may have alienated potential zero-waste converts. “There are so many issues: global warming, animal cruelty, eating local; we don’t want to tackle everything. We want to go after something tangible. This is something that people have control over.”

His and hers: Baldwin and Rustemeyer compare garbage.

And they’ve inspired their fair share, with engaged readers of the Clean Bin’s blog posting tips and advice on topics as varied as baking soda deodorant to recyclable toothbrush heads. Rustemeyer has even been informed of others starting their own zero-waste challenges.

So, in the end, who was the winner of the Clean Bin Project? I was told that the housemates averaged just four pounds of garbage each – for an entire year. But to find out who won, we’ll have to wait for the documentary, which comes out this summer. In the meantime, we can all get a little inspired by watching the trailer below.

Resources

The Clean Bin Project lists a number of recycling resources for things like soft plastics, scrap metals, and electronics. Here is a short list:

RCBC – Recycling Council of British Columbia

Pacific Mobile Depot

Happy Stan’s Recycling

Metro Vancouver Recycles

Lead image courtesy Jenny Rustemeyer

For some time now, bartenders at the trendiest saloons around British Columbia have been flavouring their drinks with syrups, infusions and bitters concocted from locally sourced herbs, fruits and woods. Yet only recently have they been able to slip locally distilled spirits into their gunbelts as well.

Vancouver Island winery, Winchester Cellers, spearheaded the arrival of micro-distilleries when its gleaming copper still brought forth Victoria Gin, an artisan liquor distilled from a long list of local, organic ingredients. (Most recently they’ve launched a house made lemon bitters). Next, Frank Deiter fired up his Okanagan Spirits distillery to make fragrant eau de vie from the abundant fruit crops to be found around Vernon.  Merridale Estate Cidery in Cowichan began their program with local brandy, and then in the summer of 2009, Tyler Schramm of Pemberton joined this spirited community by introducing British Columbia’s first commercially bottled, small-batch organic vodka.

The justification for placing a vodka distillery in the middle of traditional farm country was an obvious one.  After all, Schramm’s land was planted with acres of the liquor’s singular ingredient – potatoes. And not just any potatoes, but Pemberton potatoes!

For Schramm, the justification for placing a vodka distillery in the middle of traditional farm country was an obvious one. After all, his land was planted with acres of the liquor’s singular ingredient – potatoes. And not just any potatoes, but Pemberton potatoes! In agricultural circles, the Valley just north of Whistler has a reputation for having some of the most fertile growing conditions for spuds on the planet. All thanks to eons of geological activity by flooding rivers, shifting mountains, and yes, melting glaciers – the benefactor that other vodka companies point to when they are only discussing the purity of their water.

Considering these ideal conditions, if the alchemy of turning prime tubers and clean mountain water into potato vodka has not been attempted before now, B.C.’s archaic liquor laws may have been to blame. All alcohol produced in the province is subject to such heavy sales taxes that their weight tends to crush the life out of entrepreneurial incentive. However, with the demand for locally produced food products on the increase, Schramm could see the potential for a made-in-B.C. alcohol. So he took to the idea in spades, so to speak.

Today’s Jeopardy Question: How Many Kilos of Potatoes Are Needed to Make One 750-mL Bottle of Vodka?

Dusting off his university science degree, Tyler enrolled at the Heriot-Watt University in Edinburgh in order to notch up his skills in brewing and distilling. Once armed with this new expertise, he and his two brothers then set forth on a long winter’s march toward production – selecting appropriate land, constructing a distillery, buying essential equipment from Europe and ordering truckloads of potatoes from local organic farmers (it takes seven kilos of potatoes to make one 750 mL bottle of vodka), not to mention waging many frustrating and arduous battles with bureaucratic red tape and licensing delays. But finally, in July 2009, the Schramm brothers’ first potato vodka was ready for bottling and distribution to markets throughout western Canada.

David Wolowydnik, bar manager at Vancouver’s West restaurant, feels Scramm’s vodka has the substance to hold its own against some of his spiciest cocktail recipes.

Consumers may be surprised by the result. Vodka made from potatoes exhibits a very different taste profile to that of the ubiquitous grain vodkas, which are often over distilled to the point of becoming flavourless and odourless. The potato version is marked by a distinct earthiness with a faint sweetness from the potato starch, and a mouthfeel that some may describe as “full-bodied character” and others might dismiss as “forward.” Schramm Vodka, in particular, has faint peppery, herbal-flavour notes, a melted-snow softness and a mineral edge that is appropriate for the label’s illustration of the Coast Mountains. David Wolowydnik, bar manager at Vancouver’s West restaurant, feels it has the substance to hold its own against some of his spiciest cocktail recipes, such as the Schramm “Old Tom” Gibson he makes with his own house-pickled, organic onions. You can view his recipe by clicking here.

Now that the company is distilling approximately 1,300 bottles a month, you can find Schramm Vodka in creative bars and restaurants around the province. At the retail level it sells for $49.99 and is widely available at BC Liquor Distribution branches.

Link to cityfood.com.

Photo courtesy Schramm Vodka

by Dave Quinn

Background

The Flathead River rises in the often overlooked southeast corner of British Columbia like some mythical creature born in the shadows of imagination. From here it ripples south across the U.S. border, mingles momentarily with Montana’s historic Clark Fork River, then joins the great Columbia in the race to the Pacific. Protected by a ring of jagged Rocky Mountain peaks and logging roads with triple-digit kilometre markers, the far reaches of the Canadian Flathead are a bone-jarring, tire-puncturing two-hour drive from the nearest town, the East Kootenay community of Fernie. Understandably, the headwaters of the transborder Flathead have only recently begun to share their secrets.

The 158,000-hectare watershed is considered by many to be the lynchpin for wildlife diversity in the southern Rocky Mountains. The Flathead shelters more grizzly bears than any other non-coastal region in North America, the highest number of vascular plant species in Canada and some of the purest water on the planet. Perhaps most important, the largest unpopulated valley in southern Canada provides critical breeding habitat, particularly for wide-ranging carnivores such as grizzlies, wolverine and lynx whose home ranges can encompass thousands of square kilometres. The high mortality rates of carnivores due to hunting or human encroachment on habitat makes breeding grounds crucial pieces in the conservation puzzle. The Flathead is possibly the most important such wildlife refuge in the southern Rockies.

“No other region along the Canada-U.S. border sustains such a diversity of wildlife and ecosystems.”

–Mark Angelo, Rivers Chair/Outdoor Recreation Council (ORC) of B.C., and Order of Canada and Order of B.C. recipient

Unfortunately, remoteness does not equal protection. Sprawling clear-cuts now claw their way to meet the alpine, the scars of increasing off-road vehicle traffic are seen even in the valley’s farthest reaches and so-called “mountaintop removal” open-pit coal mines are being proposed for this unique drainage. “No other region along the Canada-U.S. border sustains such a diversity of wildlife and ecosystems,” notes Mark Angelo, Rivers Chair for the 120,000-member Outdoor Recreation Council (ORC) of B.C., and an Order of Canada and Order of B.C. recipient. Yet despite ever-increasing human incursions over the last 10 years, the Flathead appears to have been abandoned by government decision-makers.

It has taken Cline Mining Corporation’s proposal of a two-million-tonne-per-year open-pit coalmine in the upper Flathead to bring tensions to a head, reigniting a century-old debate over the fate of this wild valley. In March 2007, ORC placed the Flathead atop its annual list of endangered B.C. rivers, ahead of more famous coastal cousins such as the Fraser, Skeena and Stikine. Contaminated runoff from large-scale open-pit mining would poison the Flathead, which flows directly into Montana’s Glacier National Park and Flathead Lake. “While mining is a major industry in our province, many British Columbians have expressed the view that there are some places just not appropriate to mine. The Flathead River is one of them,” says Angelo.

“While mining is a major industry in our province, many British Columbians have expressed the view that there are some places just not appropriate to mine. The Flathead River is one of them.” 

The Flathead River rubs shoulders with wilderness royalty: bounded to the east by Canada’s Waterton Lakes National Park and to the south by Glacier National Park, crown of the U.S. national park system. In 1932, these transborder parks were united to form the world’s first International Peace Park and have since received a UNESCO World Cultural Heritage Site designation. But conservationists insist a critical chunk is missing in the Waterton-Glacier complex. A glance at a map reveals what looks like a bite taken out of the preserve’s protected core – in the B.C. portion of the region.

Discussions about a park in the Flathead are not new. As early as 1911, conservationists such as Kutenai Brown, Waterton’s first park superintendent, acknowledged the superlative wildlife values of the Flathead Valley. In his March 1911 Report of the Superintendent, Brown wrote, “It seems advisable to greatly enlarge this park . . . to have a preserve and breeding ground in conjunction with the United States’ Glacier Park.” But it has taken the advent of modern wildlife biology survey methods, including radio collaring and DNA hair snagging, for scientists to truly understand the Flathead’s contribution to the southern Rockies ecosystem.

The Environmentalists’ View

Biologist Bruce McLellan has spent much of the past 25 years raising his family in a cabin in the Flathead Valley while working on one of the world’s longest-running grizzly bear studies. “On the coast, salmon are a major food source, so that determines where you find significant grizzly populations. Here in the Interior, it is huckleberries,” says McLellan, “and the Flathead has a lot of huckleberries. Yet huckleberries are just one reason why the Flathead supports such an uncommonly high density of grizzlies. The valley is also the breeding ground for grizzlies in all the surrounding areas,” notes McLellan.

Yet despite nearly a century of advocacy, the southeast corner of B.C. is noticeably free of what conservationists call “green blobs” – nature sanctuaries that serve as breeding grounds for neighbouring wildlife populations. 

Grizzlies aren’t the only members of the “claw and fang” clan to call the Flathead home, however. Sixteen species of carnivores, ranging from tiny weasels and badgers to wolverine and cougar, thrive here, in one of the most diverse carnivore populations on the continent. Without the Flathead, many surrounding valleys would no longer have a source of carnivores and other wildlife to replace those lost to trapping, hunting and natural mortality. Yet despite nearly a century of advocacy, the southeast corner of B.C. is noticeably free of what conservationists call “green blobs” – nature sanctuaries that serve as breeding grounds for neighbouring wildlife populations. To rectify the situation, a coalition of grassroots, national and international conservation interests is working overtime to focus B.C.’s political eye on this neglected corner of the province.

“Core protected areas are a key concept in conservation,” notes Harvey Locke, the visionary behind the Yellowstone-to-Yukon Conservation Initiative (Y2Y) and advisor for the Canadian Parks and Wilderness Society (CPAWS), a national conservation group that has helped protect more than 400,000 square kilometres of Canadian wilderness. “To secure a future for wide-ranging species such as grizzlies and lynx, which are both protected by the U.S. Endangered Species Act, large, core sanctuaries with no hunting or trapping are critical – and biologists have identified the Flathead as perhaps the single most important basin for carnivores in the Rocky Mountains.”

"Provincial parks are not truly protected. And even if they were, they don’t have the staff to police them. Hunting, snowmobiling and even heli-skiing are allowed in some, and B.C. Parks has only one staff member for every eight parks. How can you call that 'protected.' "

Not surprisingly, uncertainty over the Flathead’s future has sparked ongoing debate among the East Kootenays’ 56,000 residents. National Park proponents cite underfunding and poor management in provincial parks as the rationale for a national park. “Provincial parks are not truly protected,” explains John Bergenske, executive director of the grassroots East Kootenay conservation group Wildsight. “And even if they were, they don’t have the staff to police them. Hunting, snowmobiling and even heli-skiing are allowed in some provincial parks, and B.C. Parks has only one staff member for every eight parks. How can you call that ‘protected’?”

Parks Canada, for its part, is interested in stepping in. In 2002, it identified the Flathead as “an area of interest” for expansion of Waterton National Park – a proposal that initially garnered huge local interest. The city council of Fernie, the local Regional District of East Kootenay and the Ktunaxa First Nation (in whose traditional territory the Flathead is found) subsequently called for a park feasibility study. But for local hunting groups and ORV users, the word “park” can be a four-letter word.

National Park Designation: Those Opposed 

Sparwood, B.C.’s Kent Petovello, president of the East Kootenay Wildlife Association, draws on 30 years of outdoor experience in the Flathead when he says, “A national park is something most hunters would never consider. Why?  Most locals call Banff and Jasper ‘tourist pits.’ It goes beyond common sense to promote ski hills, golf and condominiums in a place like the Flathead. Some hunters might accept a Class A Provincial Park or wilderness area with legislated designations, but nobody wants a national park.”

Fernie’s Mike Sosnowski, owner-operator of a local snowmobile tour company, is similarly opposed. “Local input into the management of the Flathead is the answer to maintaining a healthy valley,” he insists. “A park would exclude a majority of the current users of that land base. It’s already managed by provincial and federal laws and standards that have worked very well so far. Leave it be.”

Economic Benefits of National Park Designation

“But the problem with ‘leaving it be,’” says Wildsight’s John Bergenske, “is that the current land use regime leaves the valley open for mining. We have an open-pit coal mine proposed for the headwaters of the Flathead right now, with more to come. This special place needs a special plan that includes a sanctuary like a national park in part of the valley and a ban on mining in the rest of it.”

“Such a plan would also be good for the B.C. economy,” says Harvey Locke. “We live in a world where the most rapidly disappearing commodity is wilderness. Protected areas are now economic drivers and diversifiers. And this is especially true for regions like the Flathead, which has one of the least diverse economies in B.C. – one susceptible to the booms and busts of highly unpredictable resource extraction markets.” He notes that towns such as Invermere, Canmore and Kalispel have booming economies simply because they are close to Kootenay, Banff and Glacier national parks. “People like living, and raising their families, near permanently protected nature. Such towns benefit not only from increased tourism, but from increased numbers and a diversity of residents.”

When the number of jobs that would be potentially lost was balanced against potential new Parks Canada jobs and the predicted influx of new families, the net annual benefit for the region was estimated at an impressive $1.44 million, with 23 additional full-time jobs generated.

To test this theory, Bergenske and Locke hired an independent economist in 2005 to evaluate the economic impact of a national park designation for the Flathead. When the number of jobs that would be potentially lost was balanced against potential new Parks Canada jobs and the predicted influx of new families, the net annual benefit for the region was estimated at an impressive $1.44 million, with 23 additional full-time jobs generated.

Currently, the East Kootenays boast five immense open-pit coal mines that collectively produce 25 per cent of the world’s “shipped” steelmaking coal. Hunters, conservation interests and even many local miners agree that another mine is not what the region needs. They may disagree on the proposed park expansion, but they see eye to eye on Cline Mining Corporation’s proposal to haul two million tonnes of coal annually from the Flathead’s headwaters down 40 km of forestry road to a rail siding on the Elk River. When Cline officials held public open houses this January in Elko, Fernie and Sparwood, the sentiment at the packed venues was clear: No, thanks. Local opinion was equally adamant in the more than 60,000 emails and faxes that subsequently crashed the email server of the governor of Montana and flooded B.C.’s Office of the Premier.

Overwhelming negative response such as this does not bode well for Cline Mining or for any future proposed mines in the Flathead. And if the public remains galvanized around keeping the Flathead wild, the future may well turn out bright for B.C.’s most endangered watershed. For conservationists such as John Bergenske and Harvey Locke, this would mean an expanded Waterton-Glacier International Peace Park. For Kent Petovello and other hunters it would mean a Flathead free of open-pit mines but with status-quo management of hunting and off-road-vehicle access. For its part, Parks Canada needs only the approval of the provincial government to proceed with a feasibility study for a national park (the province has so far declined to respond to calls to protect the Flathead).

Meanwhile, after more than a quarter century spent working and living in the Flathead Valley, Bruce McLellan is watching change edge slowly but surely into the valley where he has raised his family. “I’m not sure what the future holds for the Flathead. I’m only sure there have been changes, in human presence, off-road vehicle use, hunting pressures – all of which is not great for grizzlies,” he observes. “But I want to see the Flathead stay the same as it was 10 years ago, just like everybody else. And the only way to keep what still exists there today is to provide some measure of protection for tomorrow.”

Dave Quinn is a Kimberley, B.C.-based wildlife biologist, wilderness guide and author whose work takes him from the Kootenays to remote regions of the Arctic and Patagonia.

>>For more information on the transboarder Flathead Valley and the struggle to keep it wild: flatheadwild.ca; peaceparkplus.net

>>Related reading: B.C.’s Latest RAVE Focuses on the Flathead; Northern B.C.: The Last Wild River

Here in lush, green B.C., the transportation sector accounts for more than a third of the province’s provincial greenhouse gas emissions. Passenger and heavy duty vehicles take the lion’s share of those emissions, with 39 and 26 per cent, respectively. And domestic aviation claims just 7 per cent of the transportation sector’s emissions, though there are, of course,opportunities to cut those emissions to help the province achieve its overall goal of 33 per cent reductions by 2020.

(left to right) Pacific Carbon Trust CEO Scott MacDonald, Minister of State for Climate Action John Yap, West Coast Air CEO Rick Baxter/courtesy Resilient Consulting Group

West Coast Air is the latest B.C. business to reach its zero emission target: “carbon neutral” status, with West Coast Air CEO Rick Baxter, Pacific Carbon Trust CEO Scott MacDonald and Minister of State for Climate Action John Yap on hand to make the announcement at the airline’s downtown Vancouver terminal on January 11, 2010.

The 35-year-old, locally owned and operated float plane airline started its journey toward zero emissions in 2007 – studying its carbon impact with the assistance of Climate Smart, then measuring its carbon footprint and coming up with strategies to reduce that footprint. After achieving organic emission cuts of 12 per cent the first year and 10 per cent in each of the two years following, the airline has now partnered with Pacific Carbon Trust to source carbon offsets for the remainder of its emissions.

“[West Coast Air] is helping the province reduce emissions by 33 per cent by 2020,” said Yap, referring to BC Climate Action Plan targets, adding that by sourcing carbon offsets through the Pacific Carbon Trust, the airline is “supporting the growth of a vibrant low-carbon economy in B.C.” As well, Yap noted that the airline’s investment in “made-in-B.C.” carbon offsets makes the airline’s emission reduction accomplishment particularly significant. 

Now that two of B.C.’s regional carriers are carbon neutral (Harbour Air being the other), the province’s domestic aviation emissions will hopefully close in on zero as well. But what should the province be doing about reducing passenger and heavy-duty vehicle emissions?

by Dave Quinn

In 1879, legendary American naturalist and wilderness advocate John Muir paddled B.C.’s lower Stikine River, which from its headwaters on the Spatsizi Plateau carves a 250-km path through the Coast Mountains between Telegraph Creek, B.C., and Wrangell, Alaska — a remote waterway described by Muir as a “Yosemite 100 miles long.”

Some 130 years later, the Stikine’s lower half has survived the salmon wars, plans to dam its “Grand Canyon” and a proposed open-pit gold mine in a major tributary. But the threat of coal-bed methane (CBM) development in its headwaters — which requires a particularly destructive fossil-fuel extraction technique — still looms. The good news: local First Nations and conservationists such as David Suzuki and Wade Davis have united to “save the sacred headwaters” of the Stikine, Nass and Skeena, three of the province’s most important salmon-producing rivers. The collapse of B.C.’s southern salmon stocks in the summer of 2009, resulting in closures to commercial and First Nations fishing on the Fraser and dramatic decreases in grizzly populations on the south coast, only reinforces the urgency of their struggle.

>>Related reading: 2010 update on the Stikine + excerpt from Gary Fiegehen’s photography book Stikine: The Great River; Northern B.C.: Swim the Skeena;

B.C.’s Latest RAVE Focuses on the Flathead ; Flathead on the Mind

>>Tame the Wild Facts? Reader Comments:

On the whole, Westworld magazine has been a very interesting and informative read over the years. Occasionally though, an article appears that really “gets my goat” – usually when a story’s focus leads readers to believe something that is more sensational than factual, such as winter 2009’s Landmarks column (“The Last Wild River” by Dave Quinn).

It’s a beautiful river and deserves protection. However, while I am uncertain what is meant by “wild,” I’m sure the Stikine is not the last wild river – in B.C., Canada, the U.S. or the world. Also, the last sentence has two errors. First, there was a much lower return in the sockeye runs than anticipated, but the other species have returned in good and, in some cases, record numbers on the south coast. In fact, the biggest single effect on these returns is ocean survival, something we have little control over. Second, the coast’s grizzly populations are dependent on returning salmon, but why does their range seem to be expanding on the south coast? Grizzlies are swimming from the mainland to Vancouver Island because there’s not enough territory for them.

–Laurence Brown, via email

The collapse to which Dave Quinn is referring involves sockeye salmon, specifically the Chilko River run. There are five species of salmon – six if you count steelhead, which are now included in the same genus – and the numerous runs of these species in literally thousands of streams in the province did not all “collapse” this summer. (All the “southern” runs did not collapse, either.)

–Geoff Chislett, via email

Writer’s Note: For years, news reports have noted declining and less predictable salmon returns along the southern west coast. According to the CBC, for example: “On the U.S. west coast many salmon runs have completely collapsed; in B.C. the situation is only slightly better. But in the north Pacific . . . many salmon runs are at or near all-time highs.” In fact, the 2009 sockeye collapse on the Fraser (and the Chilko, according to Mr. Chislett) led to a judicial inquiry. Some returns of other species were larger than expected, as Mr. Brown correctly asserts, but the situation is frighteningly similar to the prelude to the collapse of the east coast cod fishery.

Re: B.C.’s grizzlies – these bears swim from the mainland in a natural process called “dispersal.” They rarely, if ever, survive the first humans they encounter after “island hopping” to Vancouver Island.

>>Do you have an update on the fight to save the Stikine, Nass and Skeena? Let us know!

Photo courtesy Dave Quinn.

by Rob Howatson

More cowbell please! With the thermometer dropping and the Olympic Flame burning its way toward B.C., it’s time to get this party started. Regardless of whether one’s winter strategy involves embracing the 2010 Games full on or hunkering down in a Kootenay forest until the fireworks blow over, the following guide will help you medal in the appropriate event.

Throughout the 2010 Games, Big White Ski Resort will present its irreverent take on the winter athletic competition, hosting a different, fun event each day. Photo courtesy Big White Ski Resort

1   Jest for Glory
Big White Games, Kelowna
Kelowna’s local ski hill knows how to get into the Olympic spirit. Throughout the 2010 Games, Big White Ski Resort will present its irreverent take on the winter athletic competition, hosting a different, fun event each day. From inner-tube luge to the Nerf gun biathlon, this is the peoples’ games – open to guests of all abilities, with medal ceremonies held each evening in the Happy Valley flag garden. 250-765-3101

2  Black-Diamond Bronco
Wrangle the Chute, Golden
Put some yee-haw in your Olympic yodel at Kicking Horse Mountain Resort’s annual alpine hoedown. Contestants ski down a steep, narrow run, launch themselves off a ramp and jettison their gear in preparation for a wild ride on a bucking bronco. Warning: the horse is fake, but the wranglers operating its bungee suspension are genuinely ornery. Sane folk may prefer to opt out of the race and enjoy the antics from the Heaven’s Door yurt patio – complete with DJ and BBQ. February 6, 7. 1-866- 754-5425

3  Freewheel U
Cross-Country Ski Camps, Vernon
Silver Star Resort’s 105-km, groomed-trail network is the cross-country ski centre of B.C. – voted the number one Nordic destination in North America by Forbes Travel magazine. Numerous Olympic national teams will gather here to tweak their form prior to the Games and a popular series of cross-country ski camps will help weekend warriors do the same. Courses range from $199 to $739, including trail passes, lunch and video analysis. November 28 to December 6. 1-800-663- 4431

4  Varsity Rules
Thunderbird Hockey, Vancouver
Olympic hockey tickets are hard to find, but there is a way to get a sneak peek inside the Games’ new $47.8-million UBC venue – and see some gutsy varsity sports action at the same time. The T-Bird men and women hockey teams will play this season’s home games in the state-of-the-art, 7,500-seat arena. Doug Mitchell Thunderbird Sports Centre. Tickets $10. UBC.
Schedules: gothunderbirds.ca

5  Wired for Wow
Air Grouse Mountain Ziplines, North Vancouver
Ziplining is one of those zany, adrenalin-pumping activities that has all the makings of an Olympic event – gasp-inducing speed, a gratuitous exploitation of gravity – but isn’t a sport . . . yet. For now it is simply a mind-blowing way to view the North Shore Mountains while hurtling above Grouse Mountain forest at 80 km/h. Après ride: Grouse’s 740-square-metre ice-skating pond, where 1972 Olympic silver medallist Karen Magnussen is lacing ’em up to give figure skating tips – for real. 604-980-9311

For this year's Ice-Wine Festival, organizers have opened up the spigot to include all Okanagan varietals. Photo courtesy Sun Peaks Resort

6  A-Vin-Lanche Patrol
Winter Wine Festival/Sun Peaks Resort, near Kamloops
The ancient Olympiad began with the Greeks offering wine to Zeus. So it is fitting that the Winter Wine Festival will flow January 16 to 24 – right before the Games. For 11 years, this was the Icewine Festival, a Sun Peaks swish-and-spit jamboree dedicated to the only vino harvested in the dead of night and dead of winter. This year’s grape party will continue to honour the elixir from the frozen vine, but festival organizers have also opened up the spigot to include all Okanagan varietals. New events include Wild Meats and Wild Wine at Masa’s Bar + Grill, a Varietal Showdown at the M Room and a Mixology Event for those who like sampling beyond the wine lists. January 16 to 24. 1-800-807-3257

7  Dude Meets dweeb
Old School Giant Slalom/Mount Washington, near Courtenay
There are bound to be neck-wrenching double takes at Vancouver Island’s alpine resort this winter as Olympic snowboarders share Mount Washington’s slopes with some bizarrely attired skiers. The elite boarders will be cramming for their parallel giant slalom test at Cypress. The downhillers, with their kamikaze headbands, one-piece neon hot-dogger suits, mirrored sunglasses and skinny, straight skis, will be there for the inaugural retro ’80s fun race January 30. Totally wicked! 1-888-231-1499

8  Oval Au Naturel
Polarthon, Kamloops
Kamloops is a hotbed for speed skating talent, but the city can’t afford a $178-million long-track oval like Richmond’s new Olympic venue. So its determined blade racers came up with a more affordable alternative: Logan Lake. Each winter a local ATV club sweeps the lake’s frozen surface, transforming it into a giant outdoor rink and the home of the Southern Regional Long-Track Speed-Skating Championships (January 9), a fun winter triathlon called Polarthon (January 10) and the Western Cup of Pond Hockey (January 15 to 17). Located just outside Kamloops, Logan Lake is the only lake-surface speed-skate venue in B.C. 250-523-6225

9  The Cold Lebowski
Winter Festival, Valemount
The Olympic torch passes through this gateway-to-Mount Robson community January 29, just in time to kick off Valemount’s second-annual icicle whoop-up. Frosty frolics on January 30 include a wacky winter triathlon (skate, cross-country ski, run), milk-jug curling, dogsled rides and the little-known sport of body bowling. The latter involves participants being hurled across a frozen lake in the hopes of knocking down a set of oversized pins. 250-566-4435

10  Fork Lighting
Lighting the Way, Grand Forks
Many towns throughout B.C. will celebrate the arrival of the Olympic torch when it passes through their communities. Grand Forks, for instance, will party it up January 24 as the flame flickers down its main streets – hopefully keeping its distance from the snow-and-ice sculpture contest. Plus: fireworks and performances by First Nations and Metis jig dancers, the Doukhobor Seniors Choir and the Sopranos Youth Singers. 1-866-442-2833

11  Follow the Pack
Sled Dog Tour, Invermere
Sled-dog racing was a demonstration sport in the 1932 Lake Placid games, and the International Federation of Sled Dog Sports has been agitating for a second chance ever since, though it may be awhile before Fido tops the podium again. In the meantime, mountain mushing experiences can be had at Toby Creek Adventures (just down the road from Panorama Mountain Village), featuring a full-day backcountry romp to the Delphine Glacier. (Movie-goers may recall this stunning icefield from the 1993 survival film Alive.) Many of the trek’s guides and dogs are veterans of the Iditarod and Canadian championship sled dog races, so you’ll want to hang on for the mad dash up Delphine Creek to the glacier’s spectacular, cliff-top icefall. 1-888-357-4449

B.C.'s second-annual Cultural Olympiad: more than 600 free and ticketed acts and exhibitions. Photo courtesy Trudy Lee Photography

12  Brrrrravo!
Cultural Olympiad 2010, Various B.C. Locations
The Cultural Olympiad has wowed audiences in Vancouver and along the Sea-to-Sky corridor since its launch last year. But the closer we get to the Games, the more spectacular those performances. More than 600 free and ticketed acts and exhibitions will be showcased January 22 to March 21, including the rare double-billing of Canada’s National Ballet and Royal Winnipeg Ballet – but also relative unknowns: e.g., The Only Animal theatre company’s ambitious production of NiX. The tiny Vancouver troupe will construct Canada’s first theatre of snow and ice at Whistler’s Lost Lake and fill it with a frozen fantasy about fireworks at the end of the world.

13  Learn From the Master
Nipika Classic Loppet, Radium Hot Springs
Can’t define “loppet”? All the more reason to attend Nipika Mountain Resort’s Learn to Cross Country Ski Week (January 18 to 25) – for classic and skate-skiing taught by resort co-owner Lyle Wilson. The former Olympic coach has been a dominant force on the Canadian Master ski circuit for 30 years. So, you can hone your skills on Nipika’s 50 km of trails, then be well-primed to race in its Classic Loppet at week’s end. 1-877-647-4525

Kimberley's Family Festival: Bands, glow-stick parades, a mountain scavenger hunt and s’mores by the skate pond. Photo courtesy Kimberley Family Festival

14  Kin Who Huck
Family Festival, Kimberley Alpine Resort
The Olympic family that shreds together breaks bread together. And so, in honour of the fact that skiing is such a great family activity, Kimberley’s ski hill has declared Valentine’s weekend a giant brood bash. There will be bands, glow-stick parades, a mountain scavenger hunt and s’mores by the skate pond. February 13 to 14. 1-800-258-7669

15  O Yes You Did
The O Zone, Richmond
An official celebration site of the 2010 Winter Games, the O Zone will showcase art, culture, entertainment and sport via a main stage for international headliners, giant outdoor ice rink, interactive exhibits and a towering 43-metre screen carrying live feeds from all Olympic venues. To find: just look for the colourful, 30-metre-long wall of ice at the O Zone entrance (by B.C.’s Gordon Halloran, who also designed the Turin Games’ 2006 sub-zero installation). 604-276-4000

16  Spread the Warmth
Hudson Bay Mountain Resort, Smithers
The Olympic Flame isn’t the only torch drawing crowds this winter. On January 29, evening skiers brandishing flares on bamboo poles will create what will look like a giant glowing red snake – descending the slopes of Hudson Bay Mountain Resort via its new eight-km trail to town (one of B.C.’s top-three longest runs). Torch bearers will finish their burn turns on the edge of Smithers, where a bus waits to take them to the resort’s watering hole, Whisky Jack’s, for the Torchlight Dance. All proceeds to the Canadian Cancer Society. 250-847-2058

17  Totem Polar Party
Museum of Anthropology, Vancouver
The towering glass walls of UBC’s Museum of Anthropology Great Hall still offer a stunning view of Vancouver’s outer harbour, and the hall itself still displays an amazing collection of totem poles. But huge changes are afoot thanks to a $55-million expansion and facelift. Highlights: new exhibition gallery and revitalized lobby, gift shop and café unveiling; plus the launch of “Boundary and Translation: New Art Across Cultures,” a cultural Olympiad exhibition of contemporary works by 12 international artists. January 23, 24. 604-827-5932

18  Don’t Piste Me Off
Big Mountain Freeskiing, Revelstoke
Skiers who find Olympic slope events too constraining can always sink their fat planks into competitive Big Mountain Freeskiing – a sport that’s been around for 15-plus years but is not yet on the Olympic radar. Revelstoke intends to change that when it hosts the Canadian Freeskiing Championships January 6 to 10. Competitors are given a start gate and a finish line; what they do with the mountain in between is up to them. But usually that means huge carves on open faces, bombing through tight chutes, launching off 15-metre cliffs and a smattering of tricks in between. 1-866-373-4754

19  Play Safe
National Avalanche Awareness Days, Various B.C. Locations
You can’t host the Winter Games without a few words of winter caution. In fact, more than 30 Canadian communities will hold white-thunder safety programs in January, with Fernie the anchor city for this season’s campaign. The East Kootenay powder pocket is a fitting location to headline the Canadian Avalanche Centre initiative because it draws both skiers and snowmobilers, and it’s the latter that took a beating in the backcountry last winter (avalanches smothered twice as many snowmobilers in the 2008-09 season than in any preceding winter). Still, all slope-lovers will appreciate the beacon searches, snowpit profiles and search-dog demonstrations January 8 to 10 at Fernie Alpine Resort (simultaneous activities at local sled area, January 9). 250-837-2141

20  Potluck Potlatch
Squamish Lil’wat Cultural Centre, Whistler
Fans of Whistler’s Farmers’ Market, which packs the Upper Village with organic goodness summer through fall, can now get their slow- food fix at a winter version – Sundays at the Squamish Lil’wat Cultural Centre (SLCC), an impressive structure designed to evoke a traditional Squamish longhouse and Lil’wat Istken pit house. Sunday shoppers can stock up on storage crops, root vegetables, late-season fruits and locally prepared artisan breads before paying by donation to access the SLCC’s exhibits and weave-your-own-bling Salish Craft Workshop. 1-866-441-7522

Got a fave B.C. “Winter Wow” event we should know about? Send us a line!

Lead photo courtesy Grouse Mountain

GRANVILLE ISLAND November 26 – January 2, 2010: It’s A Wonderful Life

“You see, George, you’ve really had a wonderful life.”

For a stroll down memory lane, remembering just how grand life can be: the Arts Club Theatre Company’s lively stage production of It’s a Wonderful Life. After watching the uplifting Christmas classic, theatre goers can then explore the winding streets of Granville Island, where Yuletide activities kick off December 3 and continue throughout the season: festive trolley rides, freshly roasted chestnuts, hot apple cider – it’s enough to bring out the George Bailey in even the most Scrooge-like of us. Ticken info online, or call 604-687-1644.

courtesy B.C. Children's Hospital Foundation

VICTORIA November 19 – January 3, 2010: Festival of Trees

Though the Fairmont Empress is majestic year-round, the holiday season truly brings out its magnificence. This year marks the 19th annual Festival of Trees, when Victoria’s premier hotel transforms into an enchanted forest of sparkling tinsel and vibrant lights. Event sponsors are given free reign in decorating their trees – which run the gamut from wacky to work-of-art – and visitors are encouraged to vote for their favourite submissions. The best part: all proceeds are donated to the B.C. Children’s Hospital. Can’t make it to Victoria? The event’s sister hosts are Vancouver’s Four Seasons Hotel and Port Alberni’s Best Western Barclay. 1-888-663-3033.

PRINCE RUPERT December 4 – 5: Winterfest

There’s nothing quite like an old-fashioned community Christmas, and Prince Rupert offers one of the region’s best. The city’s 13th annual Winterfest is billed as a family pleasing Noel, with enough Christmas spirit to rival the North Pole’s. Don’t miss: the city’s renowned Cowpuccino’s Coffee House, where home bakers will be flexing their interior design muscles in the gingerbread-house-decorating competition; a walk around the Courthouse Grounds, where the town’s intricate light display comes to life; taking the kids to breakfast with Santa, then watching him in the town-wide parade; winding down at a reading of Christmas favourites at Eainforest books; and letting the tykes loose on the Civic Centre Arena’s by-donation ice-skating afternoon. The festival closes with a bang – literally, as sparkling fireworks provide a backdrop for the annual Sailpast parade of Christmas carol boats. And that’s only the tip of the iceberg. For more info and tickets: 250.624.9118.

courtesy Polar Bear Habitat and Heritage Village

(NATIONAL) COCHRANE, ONTARIO Year-Round: Polar Bear Habitat & Heritage Village

Polar bear swims are ubiquitous in the winter months – after all, there’s nothing quite like an icy ocean plunge, particularly for a good cause. But what about the event’s namesake? Well, a day at Cochrane’s polar bear facility provides a crash course in the  Ursus maritimus. The only polar bear rehabilitation centre in the world, the Ontario site recovers abused or neglected bears and nurses them back to health, then finds new homes for them or provides long-term shelter at the centre. Here, visitors can also view the arctic natives in their new habitat, and, for those leery of jumping into sub-arctic waters, swim alongside the bears in an adjacent (partitioned) wading pool (seasonal). Yuletide bonus: during the Christmas season, the centre’s heritage village hosts a dazzling Northern Nights lights display December 5, 12 and 19. Ticket prices vary. For more information: visit the website or call 1-800-354-9948

(INTERNATIONAL) RIO DE JANEIRO, BRAZIL December 31: New Year’s Eve

Canucks haven’t partied till they’ve partied in Rio – especially on New Year’s Eve, or Reveillon. Consistently voted one of the best New Year’s bashes in the world, Rio’s all-night year end bash sees more than two million merrymakers crowding the streets and spilling over onto Cobacabana Beach. The celebration starts in the early hours, when hundreds of Brazilians begin streaming to the oceanside to pay homage to the Afro-Brazilian goddess Iemanja, while samba, boleros and choros plays in the background; the rest of the day, revelers party like it’s 2009. To celebrate Brazilian-style:,dress in white (as per tradition), let the champagne flow and keep those hips moving. If you need more convincing, keep in mind that winter is Rio’s depth of summer – and partying in the evening heat trumps shivering in a parka, anytime.

Lead image: Bob Frazer/the Arts Club Theatre Company’s It’s a Wonderful Life/photo by David Cooper

by Kerry Banks

In 1965, TV viewers were introduced to My Mother the Car, a situation comedy about attorney David Crabtree, who purchases a dilapidated 1928 “Porter” touring car after hearing the car call his name in a woman’s voice, which turns out to be that of his deceased mother. Much to Crabtree’s frustration, however, his mother refuses to reveal her presence to anyone but him, saying, “Son, the world just isn’t ready for a talking car.” Four decades later, things have changed.

SYNC: What is it?

Ford and Mircosoft have developed a factory-installed, in-car communications and entertainment system called SYNC that enables drivers to make and receive phone calls hands-free and control a range of digital audio via voice commands and buttons mounted on the steering wheel. The system is currently offered on 12 different Ford, Lincoln and Mercury vehicles in North America.
To place a call, simply press a button on the steering wheel, then say the name of the person you wish to call. SYNC will automatically connect with the names in the mobile phone’s contact list.

SYNC can even receive text messages and read them aloud using a robotized female voice known as “Samantha.” To reply, the driver selects from one of 15 pre-selected text messages, such as “Where are you?” “I need more directions” and “Be there in 10 minutes.” SYNC can also interpret a hundred or so shorthand messages, such as LOL – for “laughing out loud,” and will read swear words; it won’t however, decipher obscene acronyms.

The most advanced technological feature of the SYNC system is the ability to play songs from a connected media player via voice command. When a new player is plugged in for the first time, SYNC takes a few minutes to index all the audio files, after which drivers can use voice commands to select music by genre, album, artist or even track title. Commands such as, “Play artist The Clash,” or, “Play track ‘London Calling,’” will give drivers direct control over their music library. According to Microsoft, the same voice-selection interface also works for digital audio tracks stored on USB thumb drives.

See the System in Action

Lead image courtesy iStock

Are you  ”auto-obese”?

□        Do you drive everywhere you go?
□        Do you drive places that take less than five minutes to get to?
□        Do you drive your kids to school every day?
□        Do you own more than one vehicle?
□        Do you drive to get a cup of coffee?

If you answer “Yes”  to any of these questions, then you could be a victim of Auto-Obesity, a disease that can be combatted with the ‘BEST Car Diet’. And like going for a check-up at your doctor’s, it might be time to pay a visit to the Auto-Obesity website.

courtesy BEST

What is BEST (Better Environmentally Sound Transportation)?

BEST, and its ideas on sustainable transportation solutions, might already ring a bell with Metro Vancouverites. This past summer, the organization was busy providing free parking for more than 7,000 bikes at a variety of major community events in and around the city, including farmer’s markets, Car Free Days, the Pride Parade and the PNE. And through a strategic partnership with the Car Co-op, its Auto-Obesity program is now targeting higher-density areas in Metro Vancouver. Focusing on Vancouver, Burnaby and New Westminster for now, the program is designed for families with two or more vehicles – guiding them through a journey of liberation from their extra vehicles. According to Margaret Mahan, executive director of BEST, almost 50 per cent of households in Metro Vancouver own two or more cars. And that extra vehicle often sits idle, incurring insurance and maintenance costs.

The good news, financially: Thanks to the Auto-Obesity program, handing over that second car can lead to a tax receipt for the blue-book value of your extra vehicles, personal travel planning and “provision of bikes, skateboards, transit passes – or whatever else is needed  – to help make the transition to auto-health,” says Mahan.

Why is it so difficult to give up our single-occupancy vehicles?

One of the biggest barriers (and yes, I agree that there are many) is that our communities were planned and built for cars, not people. And not for environmental health and not for personal health, either. Which means that getting from place to place by foot, bike or transit, especially outside Metro Vancouver, isn’t as simple as we’d like to believe. When options are not readily available, we stick to what we know, which is the car.

I love that the Auto-Obesity program focuses on the unifying concept of health – the health of our bodies, of our streets, and of our planet. And it’s encouraging to know that when we are ready, there are many healthier, more sustainable transportation options here in Metro Vancouver. If you’re ready to slim down and get ‘auto fit’, then BEST is ready for you.

What do you think about the Auto-Obesity program? Will you take any action in terms of getting rid of a second car or changing the way you drive?

Lead image courtesy BEST

by Helena Zukowski

Remember the days when “getting there was half the fun” as we flew “the friendly skies”? Well, with in-flight amenities a perk of the past and increased airport security the new reality, air travel these days can be more than a tad trying.

____________________________________________________

“The methodology sometimes veers into the ridiculous: the

– the Disney employee chastised for carrying a snow globe; the mother

refused permission to board with her breast pump and empty baby

bottles because her infant was not travelling with her

____________________________________________________

Of course, travellers expected airport screening to get tougher post 9/11. But the consensus amongst today’s passengers is that the methodology sometimes veers into the ridiculous – the Disney employee chastised for carrying a snow globe, for example; the mother refused permission to board with her breast pump and empty baby bottles because her infant was not travelling with her – and that common courtesy and respect take a back seat in the push for increased security measures.

Though “there is no latitude permitted in a screener’s interpretation of the rules,” according to Mathieu Laroque, spokesperson for the Canadian Air Transport Security Authority (CATSA), it can be confusing and frustrating for travellers who find that, in reality, there is variance in how airport security rules are interpreted and applied.

______________________________________________

So what’s a disgruntled flyer to do?  Is there any recourse

when airport security personnel neglect common courtesy or

are seen to be acting beyond the bounds of common sense?

______________________________________________

Currently, Canadian airport security is subcontracted by CATSA to local companies such as Garda and Aeroguard. New hires are put through a two-week training program and periodic updates, with advanced training for managers – and “courtesy is definitely one component of the program,” notes Laroque. Still, studies show that most complaints relating to airport security could have been avoided if screeners had been more courteous and respectful. To this end, though travellers still have no choice but to submit to security searches and questioning, passengers are encouraged to talk to airport or airline officials if they feel inappropriately treated. If this doesn’t resolve the issue, fliers can complain directly to CATSA, giving the time and place of the incident and the officer’s name. CATSA will investigate and respond to complainants within 30 days.

In addition, a private member’s Bill (C-310) is now before Parliament for an “Airline Passenger’s Bill of Rights” that would see compensation for last-minute cancellations and flights delayed on the tarmac longer than one hour. If Bill C-310 passes, airlines would also be required to inform travellers regarding missing luggage and the reasons for flight delays within an hour of receiving the information. Canadian airlines are opposing the bill, arguing it would result in higher fares and possible termination of service to smaller communities. However, the legislation continues to proceed: the bill reached second reading in May 2009 and has been referred to committee for final ruling.

New screening technology in the experimental stages at 10 U.S. airports and B.C.’s Kelowna airport (the first in the world to install the device and the test site for all Canadian airports) is another move that supports and enhances the rights of travellers. The Integrated Check Point (ICP) is a full-body scanner that screens liquids and gels in carry-on luggage (these would still need to be stored in baggies), but also shows outlines of what is under passengers’ clothing, such as a wad of money or concealed weapons. The result: less hassle for both passengers and screeners (no more pat-downs, for one). Also on the radar: “one-stop security,” which ensures passengers who have cleared security at one airport are not required to submit to security again before boarding connecting flights. Under the new Canada-Europe Open Skies agreement, by which planes are given open-sky access between any airport in Canada and those in the European Union, passengers flying to Europe would be the first to benefit. (The agreement replaces existing restrictions on routes and prices, as well as eases constraints on control and ownership of airlines.) As for the full-body scanner, Transport Canada will decide by late 2009 whether to expand its use to other Canadian airports.

• What’s your view on enhanced airport security?
• What’s your most aggravating airport security story?
• Let us know!

the official gripe line

Passengers who have complaints about airport security personnel in Canada, or questions about security requirements,  can access the CATSA website at catsa.gc.ca or phone 1-888- 294-2202. Complaints are processed within 30 days. consumer.ca/1753

More Airline Madness.

Lead image courtesy iStock

by Sonu Purhar

WHISTLER November 12-15: Cornucopia

For anyone who loves food and wine (and really, who doesn’t?), Whistler is the place to be November 12 to 15 – when the village hosts its annual Cornucopia celebration. The event brings together a Mulligan’s Stew of chefs, restaurateurs, sommeliers and vintners, all eager to share their tips and tricks with the public. Event highlights: a Casino Royale party worthy of Bond; an Artisan Market at the Westin Resort & Spa ( a sampling bonanza); and, of course, sumptuous spreads of nibbles, multi-course meals and after-dinner treats. Don’t miss: the Crush Gala Grand Tasting, Cornucopia’s two-night finale, where foodies and grape lovers can sip and swallow the bounty of more than 75 local wineries. Ticket prices vary; see the website for details.

• FRASER VALLEY November 21-22: Bald Eagle Festival

courtesy Fraser Valley Bald Eagle Festival

The folks in Sasquatch Country turn their attention to the skies this month in anticipation of Canada’s third-largest gathering of bald eagles. More than 1,200-plus raptors are drawn to the valley every fall by its millions of spawning salmon, though the birds aren’t the region’s only visitors. November’s cool, damp weather coaxes the bulk of Fraser Valley’s wildlife population into the open, including bears, seals, coyotes and great white sturgeon, with venues from Mission to Chilliwack providing eagle-watching opportunities, jet-boat eco-tours and guided walks through ancient aboriginal sites and around the Chehalis River. Fraservalleybaldeaglefestival.ca; 604-826-7361

Also see: Mighty Hawg Daytripper

• REGIONAL HIGHLIGHT November 5-15, Montreal: Cinemania

The days are shorter, the skies darker, the weather gloomier – what better atmosphere for Montreal’s annual Cinemania film festival? This year’s lineup features the year’s best in French cinema – and with some selections playing exclusively at the festival, it could be film buffs only chance to view. There’s a film for every taste, from the steamy biopic Chanel Coco & Igor Stravinsky to the political thriller Secret Defense/Secrets of State. Non-francophones can also rest easy: the films are all subtitled. 514-878-0082

• INTERNATIONAL HIGHLIGHT September 23-December 2, Rome: Romaeuropa Festival

Every year, countries around the world create stunning cultural productions, most of them unseen anywhere else on the globe – but the Fondazione Romaeuropa wants to change that. For more than two decades, the Rome-based institution has presented a multifaceted event showcasing an inspiring fusion of original international performance. And last year its 60 festival picks drew an audience of 60,000-plus spectators, all eager to witness the latest worldwide masterpieces in contemporary art, from hip-hop to ballet to Indian dance – and this year’s bash is already on its way to topping those numbers. The festival is in full swing throughout November; download program and ticket information from the website. +39 06 422961

Lead image courtesy Whistler Cornucopia