I’m late to this particular highway, but I expect that many readers are.  With sky-high gas prices and increasingly dire climate projections, I can’t help but look at electric vehicles with increasing curiosity.  There’s little doubt EV’s are the future of automobiles, with everyone from Volkswagen to Volvo ditching gas to go all electric.  Yet there’s as many misconceptions as there are die-hard acolytes, fanatics on both side of the fossil fuel divide.  I figured there was only one way to get to the bottom of it:  do some research, and get behind the wheel.
 
I’ve worked with Ford Motors over the years (they sponsored a couple of my speaking tours as well as my 22,000km drive around Australia to tick off The Great Australian Bucket List) so naturally I reached out to them first:  would it be possible to take an EV for a spin?  My 6 year-old son is also crazy about Mustangs, which he confused for whatever yellow muscle car Bumblebee happened to be during his short but intense Transformers phase. 
 
This is how I came to fly into Montreal and hop behind the wheel of a 2022 Ford Mustang Mach-E:  a 346 horsepower fully electric sports car that rockets from 0 to 100 km/hr in 3.7 seconds.  There’s no space for 346 horses on the Mustang logo, just one, but plenty of space for myself, two kids, 3 carry-on suitcases, our day packs, and the various crap that stick to parents like Velcro on any family road trip.  Barf bags for the 6-year-old included.  

There’s bells, whistles, and then there’s the settings in a Mustang Mach-E.  A huge 15.5 inch swipe screen sits in the middle, serving as an on-board super-computer to power all the sensors.  I don’t know how the roof camera works to provide a birds-eye view when I reverse, or the rain-sensing wipers, or how they get the handle-less doors to Star Trek swish when they open.  It’s a neat trick that the car parks itself, and it has a Co-Pilot system that allows the vehicle to drive itself on the highway (although another sensor pinged when I took my hands off the steering wheel for longer than a few seconds).  
 
The feel and response of the accelerator made the biggest first impression.  Instead of braking, I could just decelerate into a full stop, although later I discovered an option to drive with the brake like a typical car.  By that stage, I’d become quite accustomed to just using one pedal, and the intense boost of speed at my disposal.  It was difficult to stick within Quebec’s 90 - 100 km/hr speed limits, and I used the intelligent adaptive cruise-control feature to drive with my hands more than I usually would.  No combustion engine means more cargo space, an unnervingly quiet ride (great for wildlife stops when we spotted deer) and all sorts of other car stuff you’re welcome to geek out with if that’s your jam.   But let’s get to the misconceptions:
 
1. If you’re burning fossil fuels to create electricity, how can an EV be good for the planet?
 
True, if you’re in a country or region that predominately burns coal to generate electricity.  In Canada this is not the case.  Quebec generates 94% of its power through hydro sources.  BC is at 87%.  Manitoba 97%, Newfoundland and Labrador 96%.  Ontario’s system is 94% emissions free.   In these cases, you’re using clean energy to power your vehicle, which is very good for the planet.  On the other hand, your EV vehicle uses steel, silicon, and all sorts of rare minerals needed to create today’s computers and sensors.  There’s always a cost. But in terms of emissions and climate action, driving an EV in Canada is a sustainable bet, as opposed to Australia where the electrical grid is just 24% clean, India (14%) or China (43.5%).  Encouragingly, renewable clean energy sources continue to make dramatic in-roads worldwide.  
 
2. It’s OK for the city, but I can’t go on a big road trip in a remote region, I’m going to run out of juice!
 
This is exactly why I chose my first EV road trip to be in the Lanaudière region of Quebec, spending a week exploring less-trafficked country roads, small towns, parks and lakeside resorts.  Even with our souped-up Mustang’s projected 445km range, I fully expected to be searching for chargers wherever we went.  This proved to be the case, but more out of curiosity than necessity.  Just about everywhere we stopped, there were chargers. Most hotels, attractions and resorts offered free Level 2 charging stations for guests, which charges about 30 km per hour, or fully charges in 6 to 14 hours if left overnight. There were even chargers in La Mauricie National Park at the most popular beaches and attractions. ​   

Fast Level 3 chargers (which charge 100 km per 30 minutes, or fully charges the battery to 100% in 1 to 4 hours),  were also available along the major routes.  Quebec has over 7000 public chargers,  more than any other province, with more are being added every day. The one time we actually needed power, it took just one hour over dinner to charge from 40% to 100%, and cost a whopping $20 on a sliding scale after we hit 80%.  Given the savings, it was odd to find the Fast Charger  at a Shell gas station. 
 
Admittedly, there’s a slight mental adjustment watching the car battery drain like it does on your cell phone, as well as getting over the distrust of deteriorating cell phone battery life, largely due to the ridiculous “planned obsolescence” strategy of Apple, Google and Samsung that essentially update your phone until it bricks and you have to buy a new one.   Given the cost, EV batteries are designed to last the life of the vehicle, which is about 10 years, but that’s how long most owners now keep their vehicles anyway.   You can charge your batteries at any point, and while there are simple tips to increase your battery life, don’t let it stop you from a road trip. 
 
I met an EV owner who drove from Ottawa to Vancouver in a Nissan Leaf with no problems whatsoever.  We got chatting with a happy Hyundai Evoque 5 owner at the two free guest chargers outside the outstanding Hôtel-Musée Premières Nations in Quebec City.  There’s a lot of interest and curiosity in EVs, and the Mustang sure turned a lot of heads.  There were always chargers available, but I expect it will get interesting when there’s more EV’s on the road then there are chargers.  If you’re pulling into a public lot and four chargers are being used for an indefinite charging period, it would be understandably frustrating and problematic.  Charging would have to be limited to 80%, etiquette would have to give way to formal restrictions, and of course, there would have to be more superchargers to accommodate the demand.   And all this will be happening as better battery technology makes charging faster and more efficient. 

My conclusion:  You can certainly go on an EV road trip now, and most definitely in the future.  If you’re in Canada or anywhere running on hydro, wind, solar, tidal or nuclear energy, you’re not killing one forest to save another.  The Quebec region of Lanaudière and La Mauricie between Montreal and Quebec City is simply gorgeous. The Mustang Mach-E had plenty space for the road tripping family, and is altogether one impressive steed.  My son, who gets car sick playing with Hot Wheels, never complained once about needing to puke, confirming his approval for the smooth ride.  My current car is not an electric vehicle.  My next one will be. 

Note:  Thanks to Ford Canada for providing the Mustang Mach-E.  The company did not review or approve of this story.   
Read my Bucket Listed column in Can Geo Travel for more about what we discovered during our electric road trip adventure in Quebec. 

This month I attended a conference in Victoria ​dedicated to sustainability in tourism.   Speakers discussed the virtues of authentic, community based tourism,  regenerative practices, decarbonization, and tourism as a force for reconciliation.   All very inspiring, especially hearing from companies and organizations that are putting these ideas into practice.  You can read what I distilled from the IMPACT conference in my Bucket Listed column for Can Geo Adventures: Is Canada on the cusp of a tourism enlightenment?  

Some key lines to share: 

• "After two years of lockdowns and restrictions, Canadian tourism has returned with a sonic boom. Yet an industry supported by excessive growth, left unchecked and unmanaged, is simply not sustainable."
• "If cities, attractions and tour operators collaborate with the community, locals become enthusiastic travel ambassadors, and a positive reflection for the visitors they wish to welcome. "
• "Tourism is a powerful cultural and economic tool to engage and directly benefit Indigenous Peoples in Canada, and reconciliation must extend beyond land acknowledgments and advocacy into the realm of action."
• "More and more businesses recognize that a promising future lies in the rapid growth of clean technology."
• "With governments, operators and corporations making large investments in low carbon futures, individual travellers don’t necessarily have to pay more, but we can choose to give our business to those that do."
• "Leisure tourism is fun; eco-tourism is educational and sustainable. Regenerative tourism restores land and communities to their natural state for the enjoyment and appreciation of future generations. "
• "There are going to be screw-ups, but the underlying key has to be deep community relationships. It’s called leadership, not status-quoship.”
• "As travellers, we have the power to force real change in the industry by spending our dollars with operators, agencies, companies and destinations that take community engagement, decarbonization, reconciliation and sustainability seriously."
• ​ “We’re not waiting for the world to change. We must change the world.”

Nobody needs reminding that the world is changing dramatically.  It’s become a daily ritual to read about extreme weather events.   Within the past year, most of Canada (and many parts of the world) had some sort of run in with heat waves, floods, droughts, wildfires, extreme cold snaps, or intense storms.   What does this mean for tourism, and what does it mean for bucket lists?
 
I’m on a Tundra Buggy exploring the permafrost outside of Churchill, looking for hungry polar bears emerging from their summer dens as they migrate north to the frozen ice of the Hudson Bay.  Problem is, warmer temperatures mean the ice is taking longer to freeze, and the biological clocks of the polar bears cannot keep up with the sudden shift in seasonal weather.  More and more Churchill bears are not surviving into the winter months to feed, which makes the world’s most southerly population of polar bears also the world’s most threatened.  This explains why Churchill’s bear population has declined by 30% since the 1990s.  As the buggy slowly make its way forward, I see the tattered remains of a bear on the ground. It either starved to death, or was attacked and eaten by other bears in order to survive.   I still see dozens of healthy bears on this trip, but that dead bear is a sign of things to come.
 
It was one Jasper National Park’s star attractions:  the Ghost Glacier, a dramatic, hanging wall of ice perched above Edith Cavell Pond.  On the morning of August 10, 2012, that heavy ice wall crumbled into the lake, creating a tsunami that washed out trailheads, parking, and quite fittingly, a Parks Canada interpretive board about the impact of climate change.  Not too far away is the famous Athabasca Glacier.  It has long attracted visitors with the promise of exploring the glacier on foot or on customized buses.  The Athabasca glacier has lost over half its volume in the last century, and receded over 1500 metres.  Along with up to 90% of Alberta’s glaciers, Athabasca is projected to disappear entirely between 2040 and 2100, and once it’s gone, it’s gone.  Visitors are well aware of this, resulting in a boom of what one study calls ‘Last Chance Tourism.’  It reminds me of Douglas Adam’s book, Last Chance to See.  Back in 1990, the popular author visited unusual and endangered animals around the world. Unfortunately, some of the species he discovered, including the Northern White Rhino, are now functionally extinct. 

Red sandstone cliffs are eroding in Prince Edward Island and the Bay of Fundy, while rising sea waters are predicted to swamp Nova Scotia’s iconic Peggy’s Cove.  Wildfires are devastating forests and national parks from Banff to Vancouver Island.  The Dempster Highway and other northern roads are crumbling as the permafrost – ‘the glue that holds the northern landscape together’ – melts with warming temperatures.  Ski resorts in Western Canada will suffer with changing alpine conditions, losing a quarter of their current seasons as temperate cities like Vancouver turn dryer, hotter, and begin to mimic present-day Southern California.  Icesheets will collapse and icebergs will melt, animals will change their migration habits if they can, heat domes will cripple major cities in summer. Wetlands will dry up and the parched prairies will wilt. 
 
I could go on, but there’s enough depressing news already.  Instead, let me conclude with opportunities.  Traditionally cold, northern locations will welcome more tourists and enjoy longer summer and shoulder seasons.   Canadian tourism will boom because snowbirds won’t be flocking to the scorching south, although get ready to lay out the welcome mat for sun-birds migrating north.   Tourism activities will adapt, innovate or fail, and new, previously unimaginable experiences are guaranteed to emerge.  Billions of dollars will be spent as we adapt, protect, and evolve to a new climate reality.   As I’ve written previously, Canada has an opportunity to emerge as one of the planet’s premier tourist destinations, both post-pandemic, and into the foreseeable – and now largely unavoidable – future.
 
Still, the reality of the Canadian bucket list hit me when I saw that dead polar bear on that cold November day outside of Churchill.   Fact is: it’s no longer a case of us ticking off something special before we kick the bucket, but rather, before it disappears forever.  ​

Wouldn't it be fun to go on a bucket list adventure with some of Canada's top photographers, explorers and travel journalists?   Yes, it would. 

I'm delighted to become a Royal Canadian Geographic Travel Ambassador, continuing the great work of this illustrious society to promote the natural and cultural wonders of Canada.   This means I'll be hosting select, exclusive trips that tick my own storytelling and adventure boxes, and belong on anyone's Canadian Bucket List as well.   

Working with fantastic companies and brilliant guides, I'll be enhancing your experience with stories, advice, support, a bucket list presentation, and the knowledge you're indeed enjoying a once-in-a-lifetime adventure.  

August 23 - 30, 2022:  Prince Edward Islands Culinary Delights by Bike
Cycling across PEI is pure bucket list: incredible scenery, spectacular coastline, literary and Indigenous history, and the best seafood on the planet.   Foodies and adventurer's rejoice!   This amazing itinerary combines it all together, as our bags are shuttled ahead to lovely inns and lodges, and our carefully curated itinerary delivers the best experiences on the island.  The terrain is mostly flat, and you can even choose to do this week-long trip on an e-bike.    I've been working with Ottawa-based Great Canadian Trails for years, and they've perfected the art of a quality, bucket list outdoor Canadian experience.   It's going to a blast, culminating with a stay, farm tour and feast at rockstar Chef Micheal Smith's countryside inn.   Click here for information, and bring an appetite! 

August 24 - 30 / August 31 - September 4, 2023:  Discovering Banff by Horseback
Discovering one of the world's most spectacular alpine landscapes on a 6-day horse ride, staying in luxury yet rustic backcountry lodges, sharing wild stories with fine wine by the crackling fireplace, SIGN ME UP!   They did, which is why I'll be hosting two trips in partnership with the fantastic Banff Trail Riders. We'll be riding along a historic pack trail and up Allenby Pass, crossing jagged rock formations and hitting altitudes above 8000 feet.   Mountain air, bubbling rivers, wildflowers, soaring peaks, and a great chance t encounter wildlife along the way.  Let's tick this one off the bucket list together.  Click here for more information and giddy up! 

Can Geo Adventures are working with fantastic tour operators and other fine Travel Ambassadors to showcase the very best adventures across the country.    Check them out, and I hope to see you on the road!

​T’was a time when chasing a bucket list did not necessitate cracking an Enigma code of shifting Covid tests and requirements, juggling what’s needed to board a plane, to enter a country, to embark on a boat, to disembark, to return in transit. T’was a time recently where nobody was allowed to travel at all, but it looks like we’re finally done with that bit.  There’s still too much friction when it comes to global travel, the legacy of Covid lingering like a suds stain around a student’s bathtub.  The good news is that much of the world has collectively decided to move on, focusing efforts on protecting the vulnerable while living with Covid the way we live with other problematic viruses.  It just took time and money, which tends to solve most problems. The better news:  last month I returned to both my Canadian and Global Bucket List after too long a hiatus, and I returned in style.   I’ve always wanted to sail in the Caribbean, and I’ve waited over a decade to once again experience to the deep virgin snow of backcountry skiing.  March presented the opportunities, and so I grasped them, tightly, with the wind at my sails, and a smooth path from peak to gully.

​Part One: The Caribbean
 
It started with a thought about sailing as an eco-friendlier form of cruising.  Then I got lost in the fascinating real-life history of pirates, and distracted by the pool-clear waters of the Caribbean.  Putting it altogether, I found the perfect itinerary on board one of the world’s largest passenger sail boats, a towering old-world tall ship operated by Swedish-owned, Malta-flagged Star Clippers.  My experience will get its full due in an upcoming issue of the Vancouver Sun, but I will say this:  Star Flyer – a 4-masted tall ship that swivels the head of even the saltiest sailor – is out of this world.  It carries up to 166 passengers served by 74 crew, sailing the trade winds and ocean currents in the Caribbean, Mediterranean, Central America and across the Atlantic. Unlike cruising, you feel the ocean (sometimes a little more than you’d like, but that’s part of the adventure), visiting bays, islands and beaches beyond reach of the cruise ships.  It’s a luxury sailing adventure for those who don’t know anyone with a luxury sailboat, which I’m assuming describes most of us. 

​Staff and service is fantastic, the meals top notch, the cocktails smooth and the onboard amenities (two pools, a massage therapist, deck chairs, an open bridge, stocked library, water sports etc) most accommodating.  Time slows down, and people read books, not feeds.  You can do bucket list things like hang out on the bowsprit, sprawled on the netting as it dips over rolling waves above playful dolphins (yep, that happened). You can climb up the rope ladder to an 18m-high viewing platform, gazing over islands and ocean. You can bake in the sun like those fried European passengers who don’t seem to know about skin cancer. You can dance at night, request tunes from the pianist, dress like a pirate, or ask a thousand questions of the patient crew as they pull ropes and release topsails with special names that I forgot the moment I heard them.   Pop into the Caribbean’s most legendary beach bars (the Soggy Dollar, Foxy’s etc) for a souvenir headache, nap in your cabin, listen to stories of fellow passengers, snorkel into sea caves, paddle-board, ogle at super yachts parking in St Barts.  It’s everything one would expect the good life to be, and a very different kind of cruise experience. The more I travel on a small ship – a luxury river barge in the Amazon, a catamaran in the Galapagos, an expedition ship in the Antarctica – the more I fall in love with boats as a bucket list form of travel.  If you can burn just 15% of the fuel of a regular ship, as the Star Flyer does under sail, it feels like the future of cruising, and the responsible way to go.  As time progresses, I hope to add more small ships to my growing, curated bucket list cruise collection.

​Part Two: Catskiing in the Skeena
 
The last and only time I cat-skied was on a private mountain in Chile.  We were filming an episode of Word Travels, and my single biggest memory of that adventure is nervously watching our cameraman Sean ski backwards while he filmed my descent with a large six-figure camera on his shoulder.  It was the only true bluebird ski day I’ve ever had, when the sky is crystal clear after a big dump of white snow.   Skeena Cat Skiing in BC would be my second, and this time I wouldn’t have to worry about my TV show crashing with a wipeout (I can do that all by myself, thank you). 

I had one day to switch my Caribbean bag for my snow gear, catching a prop flight north from Vancouver to the town of Smithers BC.  Here I met a group of elite ski journalists, gathering at the helipad for our memorable ride into base camp.   Any day you get to ride a helicopter is a good day.  Skeena Cat Skiing is a family-run affair and clearly a passion project of immense love and hard work.  Many hours away from anything, guests stay in heated dome tents buried in snow, which is a cool experience unto itself.  The comfy, wood-fired heated lodge tent is loaded with fine beer, snacks, worn couches, and a friendly chef who prepared outstanding hearty dinners and desserts.  We’re surrounded by the Thomlinson and Gail Creek mountains, 30,000 hectares of fresh powder and skiable glades in every direction.  Our ski chair is a customized Piston Bully snow grader, with a large heated cabin for 14 passengers on the back.  This ‘cat’ can go anywhere and everywhere it pleases, and it does.  Skirting a steep ride, it deposited us at the top of runs that funnel into valleys where we would be collected by the cat for another ascent.   Backcountry safety is taken seriously:  we’re all equipped with avalanche kits, air bags, walkie-talkies, and given a tutorial in rescue.   Veteran guides know what they’re doing and accidents are rare to non-existent.  Any nerves dissipate after the first run, replaced with elation and joy and wowzers because this is the skiing you dream about, every time you strap in, and every time you head up a mountain.  I was easily the weakest boarder of the group, and I’m no slopestyle expert (especially in the company of Olympic skier Yuki Tsubota).    But even at my own pace, I was able to keep up, sharing the pinnacle of what snow sport can deliver.   Cat skiing is more affordable than heli-skiing, and you can read more about both in my Bucket Listed column for Can Geo Travel.  Suffice to say:  it’s going to be hard going up a local ski hill again, but there’s always something to aspire to, and something to look forward to next time.

You might also be a fan of the late author Douglas Adams, who wrote Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency and the genius dictionary of made-up words, the Meaning of Liff.  In 1992, he wrote a book called Last Chance to See, a travelogue about his journey to visit animals on the verge of extinction.  Although the book has dated (some rare creatures have now completely vanished), I’m struck at how ahead of his time Douglas Adams was.  Not only did he give us the meaning of life (the number 42, in case you forgot), but he foresaw the sad reality that a modern bucket list is not so much about doing something before you die, but before it disappears.  

I write these words in the midst of a second unprecedented heat wave in a normally mild British Columbia summer.  The first claimed over 500 lives in just three days, a staggering number that’s largely slipped under the flood of the 24-Covid news cycle.  Meanwhile hundreds of wildfires are burning in the interior, smoking our skies sepia, evacuating thousands of people and torching the entire town of Lytton, a popular destination for river rafting.  Scientists estimate over a billion marine animals cooked in the first heatwave, and more are undoubtably boiling in their shells this weekend as the temperature and humidex approach the mid 40°Cs.   Climate change has come home to roost, and techno-evangelism (technology will save us!) suddenly rings a little hollow for Pacific Island nations soon be underwater, communities going up in flames, loved ones burying their dead or biodiversity battered by urban encroachment, poaching and agriculture.   I know you come here for good news, but since I’m a pragmatic optimist, we have to accept that the near and far future will suffer increasingly extreme weather events, causing unparalleled environmental, financial and cultural devastation.  All I can hope is that this finds you in a safe and stable nation with enough progressive foresight and resources to prepare for this eventuality.  All I can hope is that my bucket list books do not become works of history – much like Last Chance to See -  a review of destinations that also no longer exist.  Unfortunately,  not much has been gained in thirty years since Douglas Adams sounded his convincing warning bell, and so much has been lost.   

My new ‘Bucket Listed’ column for Canadian Geographic Travel combines commentary with my travel recommendations.  Each column is short and punchy and well worth reading, especially my second column about Indigenous tourism.   My joyous and poignant Celebration of Canada column was sunk by the sombre nature of this year’s Canada Day, which coincided with horrific discoveries of residential school graves,  sparking outrage at the nation and Catholic church’s complicity in an obvious attempt at cultural genocide.  It’s a heavy topic for non-Indigenous Canadians to grasp, which is why I highly recommend reading Peace Pipe Dreams: The Truth about Lies about Indians which uses a lighter touch to help us understand the many challenges and injustices that Indigenous communities face today.  Next,  I explored risk tolerance with a column entitled:  Is it Safe to Travel Again?  before jumping into practical tips for planning bucket list road trips and revealing some of my favourite, less-known experiences in every province.  

Speaking of road-trips, I recently returned from a little adventure of Vancouver Island with the kids, ticking off some must-do experiences along the way.  The new Malahat Skywalk was spectacular, with a few unexpected offerings (like a slide, boardwalk and adventure net) to elevate the experience well above just another roadside attraction.  I’ve long heard about caving on Vancouver Island, so I’m a little shocked it took me so long to get to the Horne Lake Caves.  I just assumed they were typical show-caves, but it’s more aligned with my best spelunking adventures abroad:  hardhats, overalls, scrambling, twisting, ducking and climbing.   Letting the kids hammer away for fossils under the guidance of an enthusiastic and experienced dinosaur museum curator was a stroke of genius, and we finished off at a fun camping festival in a forest near Courtenay.  After 60 days of no rain, the heavens opened up and drowned us with the heaviest rainfall in years, soaking the thirsty fields and farms, and maintaining my 85% record of a mud-soaked fiesta whenever I camp at a festival.  The Canadian government should just drop me off with a tent, a band and a DJ in the country’s most drought-impacted regions:  statistical probability will take care of the rest.  You can read about my Vancouver Island road-trip in my latest post on the newly relaunched www.canadianbucketlist.com
​

​Finally, I want to give a shout-out to the team at Great Canadian Trails, who are also passionate about remarkable Canadian outdoor adventures.   You don’t need to be a hardcore backcountry explorer, cyclist, hiker, or paddler to experience the joys of a true bucket list adventure.  GCT offer guided and self-guided tours that take care of all the logistics and make these kind of adventures far more achievable, accessible and enjoyable than you’d ever expect.   We’ve been working together for years, they’re great people, and I’m thrilled they’ve managed to endure the challenges of Covid to emerge even more determined to help me build your lifetime highlight reel.    

Travel’s appeal is broad and encompasses varied experiences -adventure, food, history, romance – but I’ve always felt it keenest with the sense of discovery, of being absorbed in unfamiliarity.  It’s personally invigorating to have to decipher a new set of rules, laws and cultural norms.  Locals around us seem perfectly at ease, but we can’t shake the feeling that we are other, visitors, not from around these parts.  Travelling alone further isolates us outside our comfort zones, as there’s nobody to share our experience with, no one to point out the wonders and absurdities. Disorientation can be challenging and difficult, which is why it’s not for everybody.   I recall quite vividly my first few steps within it, in London 1997.  I’d moved to the city on a two-year work permit with lofty ambitions to excel in online media.   Tubing around, just another faceless face in a sea of commuters, I’d never felt so empowered and helpless at the same time.   Several years prior,  I had bought a small Robin the Boy Wonder figurine at a flea market in Grahamstown, South Africa (now Makhanda).  Bashed, scarred and a little bashed and bruised, it quickly became a lucky charm and has joined me in the over one hundred countries I’ve visited since. ​

Alone in London, I popped into a pub near Angel to steel myself with a flat pint and escape the sensation of being overwhelmed.  In my daypack was a little black notebook with addresses of companies to drop off my resume, and the Boy Wonder of course, anything to increase my odds.  For reassurance, I grasped my figurine and noticed that Boy Wonder was pointing to his eye, as if to say: “open your eyes, look around, observe.”  And so I did: noting the sticky carpet beneath my feet, pot lights reflecting off brass beer taps, the clientele of day-drinkers and office skirters.  I penned these observations in my notebook, which I still have somewhere, and a travel writer was born.    I now have dozens of these same little black notebooks (bought from the CNA newsagent in South Africa, others just don't cut the mustard)  filled with scribblings and interviews, observations and thoughts.  Viewers around the world have seen me writing in these same books in almost every episode of my TV show (Word Travels is now available on Prime Video in Canada).  This week, I finally went travelling again, but I had forgotten my black notebook, its virgin pages eager to capture thoughts as I wandered about aimlessly.    I was opening my eyes in a new world that felt alien and awkward yet fascinating and alluring at the same time.   Most bizarre of all, this strange new destination was downtown Vancouver, the city where I live.  ​

It’s been well over a year since I strolled the blocks of Granville, Davie, Hornby and Howe. This used to be my hood.  In a former life I could tell you the names of most of the stores, and a funny anecdote to go along with them (I think I snogged someone in the alley behind The Moose / that’s the joint where I ate late-night soft-shell crab with a rock band, etc).  These days I live and work 25 minutes’ drive away in a forested suburb, and even if Covid hadn’t come along, there’d be little reason to visit the music venues, offices, restaurants and coffee shops that line these particular blocks.  Since leaving my apartment downtown, I’ve been harbouring an image of downtown Vancouver’s urban liveliness: it’s vibrant streets jiving with crowds and colour.   Today, I found an inner city ravaged by the pandemic.  Almost every third store was boarded up, tagged with graffiti or heartbreaking farewells from its broken proprietors. Homeless were sleeping in shoddy entranceways (wasn’t that an upmarket restaurant? wasn’t that a boutique?) some were shooting up as I walked by.   Coffee shops were open but empty, except for the Starbucks on Howe which was boarded up and gone for good (a Starbucks closing, in Vancouver?) ​

There was an unusual abundance of street parking, and the few people walking around – some masked, some not - carried a heaviness about them, a sense of sorrow and guilt.  Among this decay towered proud new condos that didn’t exist a year ago.  Unlike Toronto or Montreal, construction has never ceased in development-mad Vancouver.  The hip art gallery and cheap-eat restaurants on the corner of Robson and Seymour have been bulldozed, awaiting another glass tower jammed with million-dollar 600 square-foot studios.  Opposite the city library -  looking even more ancient than its bold Coliseum-influenced design - new buildings are transforming the city’s skyline, including a massive development in the former post office to ironically house a new headquarters for Amazon.  The streets were familiar, but everything else?  I may as well be walking Doha or Dallas or Derby or any other modern city I’ve yet to visit.  ​

Tragic as it was discovering the cracking shell of my own city, I was nonetheless jolted by the nostalgia of discovering some place new, alone and lost, with only my thoughts for company.   I may not be going anywhere for some time yet, but even if Boy Wonder is gathering dust on top of my bookcase, it continues to remind me, and all of us, to keep our eyes open as we observe the changing world around us. 

I compiled this definitive list with two very simple rules: 
​
a) The items mentioned below should be available to members of the paying - and no doubt occasionally insane - public
b) To qualify, the thought of each dish should make my stomach swill over, my throat seize up, my nose twitch, and my eyes rattle.

This list demonstrates that we will devour whatever we are culturally conditioned to consume, and whatever creature with the distasteful misfortune to be around us if we are hungry.  Presenting my global menu for those of iron will and titanium gut: ​

Deep Fried Hairy Spiders
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Personally, I just didn’t have the stomach for arachnoids when I was travelling by bus through Cambodia.   A popular roadside snack, the large spiders are eaten in big bites, or pulled apart, leg by leg, and consumed like French fries.  Black bug juice dribbles down the chin as you reach the best part of meal, the pincers and the bulbous back.   All the poison is removed when the spiders are fried, and apparently the appeal lies in its crunchy-chewy texture.   Along came a spider, and sat down beside her, and so Muffin just ate the damn thing. ​

Honorary Mentions: Lutifisk is a fish Norwegian weapon of mass culinary destruction.  Laos Snake Whiskey is sold with farm-bred cobras at the bottom, some with scorpions for extra zing.   We should also leave room for cockroaches, haggis, and cuy (deep-fried guinea pig).  And how can I forget my delicious fruit bat stew in beautiful New Caledonia? ​

All this to say:  The experience did not live up to your expectations.   The higher your expectations, the higher the chance that the destination or activity will disappoint you.   Reality simply can’t compete with your imagination.  And I can’t blame anyone for having an imagination stoked by the most perfect of all scenarios.  On television shows, in travel articles, in books (ahem), you rarely see or hear about crowds, costs, and crap weather.  The sky is mostly blue, and the animals always show up.   It is very rare that everything comes together exactly as it does in the brochures, and yet the marketing of peak experience does no favours to your expectations.  You’re being set up for disappointment, so better to have no or limited expectations to begin with. ​

The global bucket list took another hit this month with the chaos surrounding One Ocean Expeditions.  I’ve worked with this Squamish-based company for several years, having visited Antarctica, crossed the Northwest Passage in the high Arctic and more recently taken my mom and daughter to remote islands in the Atlantic on their wonderful boats, guided by their wonderful crew.  I’ve recommended the company at dozens of talks and in my books, and was shocked to hear they’ve been shipwrecked with financial difficulties.  Passengers were left stranded shortly before an Antarctica sailing, most support staff have left the company, and information from the permanently closed head office to hundreds of out of pocket clients has been cryptic and scarce.   The source of the issue appears to have been the damage that occurred to one of their Russian leased vessels in August 2018.    There are competing claims as to who was responsible and should foot the bill, and as a result the Russians withdrew their ships from One Ocean’s service.  This sent the company scampering to fill exist bookings on their single remaining ship, and in all likelihood broke the sea camel’s back.   The company’s mysterious restructuring has been devastating for their amazing staff and crew, many of whom are owed tens of thousands of dollars in wages.  It has been devastating for passengers around the world who have footed up to $14,000 per ticket, and have no travel insurance recourse to get their money back.  It has been devastating for the Royal Canadian Geographic Society, who benefitted from One Ocean as a major sponsor, and it has been devastating for polar tourism.  One Ocean did vital, generous and important work for the Arctic and Antarctica, supporting scientists, educators, communicators and students.  I remember telling passengers that One Ocean did not just help us tick Antarctica off our bucket list, the company had helped us become ambassadors for a truly incredible, vulnerable and oft-misunderstood eco-system.  Despite hope that a new financial partner will save the day, the damage to the brand and betrayal of trust of both clients and crew is, in all probability, fatal.  Despite some wild rumours swirling around, I do believe One Ocean had a wonderful heart. Operating at the mercy of the roughest of natural elements, it just needed a better business brain.  Here's hoping for smooth waters and easy sailing ahead for passengers, crew, company and the polar region itself. ​

After crossing dramatic mountain passes and driving alongside large, scenic lakes, we pull off the Trans Canada Highway to explore The Enchanted Forest and adjacent Skytrek Adventure Park.  With various high ropes courses through the tall forest trees, the latter is catnip for kids and adults channelling their inner gibbon.  The former is eccentric and certainly bizarre.  Dozens of tiny and not so tiny fairy tale houses have been built on the forest floor, complete with a castle, a giant climbing a tree, mermaids, wooden horses, and mischievous forest elves.  A passion project that has been a popular, quirky roadside attraction for half a century, my young kids embraced Enchanted Forest with sheer, unadulterated delight.  Happy kids, happy parents, and happier still that both these attractions are less than a half hour’s drive from downtown Revelstoke, where our room at the Regent Hotel awaits. ​

Revelstoke Mountain Resort is famous for the highest vertical run on the continent, but is embracing its four season possibilities.   This means world-class mountain biking, and for my bucket list, the longest alpine rollercoaster in Canada.   Taking the gondola up to mid-mountain, my family soaked in the stellar mountain views and fanning Columbia River, before hopping into yellow go-cart like contraption connected on a narrow single rail. My wife and I each put a kid in our laps and strapped in for a thrilling 1.4 kilometre descent.   The Pipe Mountain Coaster twists, curves and whoops its way 279 metres down the mountain, through forest and breathless dips at speeds of up to 42 km/hr.  A simple mechanism allows us to brake and go at our own pace, and most first timers will take it easy.   Get the three-ride pass (or more) and you’ll soon dispense with the brakes altogether, hitting the hell-yeah! controlled maximum speed that ensures it’s safe and fun for the whole family.    “Faster Daddy!” yelled my daughter, and who am I to argue? ​

Feet away from the exit point of the coaster is newly opened Aerial Adventure Park, where you can easily spend two hours navigating fifty different balance and height obstacles, rising four stories above the ground.   Graded like ski runs into green, blue and black difficulties, climbers are safely harnessed throughout the entire contraption. Watching brave little kids take on swinging rings or a knee-shaking four-story jump should add some pep to your steps.   Fortunately, great food and craft beer awaits the victorious in the village regardless (and for the kids, ice-cream). ​

​A Pirate Battle

River rafting is another popular summer activity in Revelstoke, with various companies offering grade three runs.   For younger kids, consider Wild Blue Yonder’s River Pirates Tour, complete with pirate costumes, face paint, bush battles and fun tales of yaargh!   Downriver from the impressive hydro dam, we drifted on the glass mirror of the Columbia River, listening to Captain Jack’s brogue as he recounted the myth of the man-eating moose.  My daughter - made-up with face paint, bandanna’d, and now known as Jolly Lips Sue - had a blast.  Nobody got wet, and foam sword battles continued back in our comfortable family suite at the Regent.    

Fortunately the sword stayed behind when we checked out the old world Railway Museum, although the knives came out when my three year-old had his thermonuclear meltdown when we told him it was time to leave the large, warm wading pool at the Aquatic Centre.  We packed a lot into just three days, and could have easily spent a week exploring this underrated wonder of the BC interior.    It’s all right there in the very name of the town, where families can revel in the stoke of it. ​