​Long in the shadows of its Maritime neighbours, New Brunswick has come into its own as a province packed with family-friendly experiences, gorgeous scenery, delicious seafood and wonderful people.  It also tends to be less packed with tourists, which means fewer crowds, better prices, and perfect for family road trips.    Canada’s most underrated province overdelivers, if you give it a chance.  Here’s my report (and video below) from a multi-generational trip to New Brunswick this summer, visiting the cities of Moncton and Fredericton.

All visitors should bee-line to Magnetic Hill, a short 15-minute drive from Moncton’s city centre.   The central draw is an optical illusion in which it appears your car will roll itself uphill, in neutral.  It’s a fun, quirky attraction, and a little hair-raising as you begin to pick up speed in reverse.  Read my Canadian Geographic column about Magnetic Hill for more information about the illusion and how it works.  The whole experience is over in minutes, but the area has other attractions to keep families busy while you’re there.  Across the street is The Boardwalk and Butterfly World, where the kids will go-go-go with go-karts, batting cages, bumper cars, balloon fights, mini-golf, and other attractions.   Back across Front Mountain Road is the Magic Mountain Splash Zone, billed as “the largest man-made tourist attraction in Atlantic Canada.”    The biggest waterpark in the Maritimes definitely gets busy on hot summer days, and you can relax: there’s no sliding uphill here.
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Further along is the Magnetic Hill Zoo, the largest zoo in Atlantic Canada with over 400 animals, including lion, tiger, cougar, zebra, bear, and cheeky lemurs.  It also has a fantastic playground for your own cheeky monkeys to get their swings in.  Animals are divided into regional zones and the zoo has won various awards for its conservation programs.  Exhausted parents might want to stop into the family owned and operated Magnetic Hill Winery to pick up a fruit wine before heading back to the city.  We stayed at the excellent Chateau Moncton on Main Street, conveniently located close to everything you might need.   If you’re looking for great sushi, head to Pink Sushi on bustling Main Street which got thumbs up across our three generations!

It’s a two-hour drive to the provincial capital of Fredericton, a small city that packs a cultural and historical punch.  The weather decided it needed a break from the hot summer days, so we took shelter from the rain in the Beaverbrook Art Gallery.   I added Salvador Dali’s Santiago El Grande to the Canadian Bucket List back in 2013, a striking painting rich with symbolism and meaning, and best appreciated lying down with the painting towering over you.  Since my last visit, the gallery has undergone extensive renovations, and Dali’s masterpiece has been relocated to its own room towards the back.  There are new paintings, sections and exhibits, including the Grandfather Akwiten, the oldest birchbark canoe in the world, locally crafted in the 1820s by the Wolastoqiyik First Nation.   We grabbed a quick, garlicky shawarma, and headed to Science East a couple blocks away.  Located in the old Fredericton York County Jail, it’s a quirky venue with interactive exhibits about electricity, gravity, biology and the forces of nature.  Quirky because downstairs is a historical exhibit in the former cell of serial killer, and upstairs I noticed info-panels about a double hanging in the court yard.    Staff at Science East have even complained about the place being haunted!  My son has a fun time with the exhibits, but we were disappointed to learn it was a rare open day for Science East.  With slashed public funding, Science East has had to close its doors to the general public.  Hopefully it will open again one day (come on corporate sponsors!) because any time a science museum closes, Ignorance cackles with glee. Maybe an enterprising local will start up night time ghost tours inside the building too.

The moody weather didn’t invite a visit to the pool at Delta Hotel, so I took my son to Kingswood Entertainment Centre for an indoor treat.   We played laser tag and tried candlepin bowling for the first time in one of the centre’s 30 lanes. He got his jollies out inside the large indoor playground, and we teamed up to battle monsters in the Cosmic Zone arcade.  Juggling the interests of an 8-year-old and his grandmother, my son won that day but grandma would triumph in the morning.  We drove a half hour to Kings Landing Historical Park, a living museum that recreates loyalist settler life in rural New Brunswick from the 19th century to the early 20th century.  Celebrating its 50th anniversary, Kings Landing has over 70 restored buildings with period-accurate furniture, occupied by reenactors in costume to breathe life into the settlement.   We took the horse and buggy car and explored the past, stopping into the General Store, the School, the houses and barns.   My son picked and ate ripe apples from the many orchards about, and took great delight checking for chamber pots under the beds.   Although Kings Landing was never an actual settlement, the attention to detail is extraordinary.   I picked up a few books on a desk expecting them to be fake, but they were original editions dating back to the 1820s!

The weather finally cooperated so we roamed around Downtown Fredericton, popping into art galleries and various eclectic stores, admiring some of the unusual cars that had gathered for a festival.  We walked past Officer’s Square and the Historic Garrison District, and ate ice-cream by the fountain outside City Hall.   Back at the Delta swimming pool, we eavesdropped on a beautiful wedding, enjoying a perfect afternoon with a bag of lobster flavoured Covered Bridge Potato Chips (fortunately back in operation after Canada’s best potato chip factory burned down in a fire earlier this year).   I left my son and mom back at the hotel to join fishing guide Matt Nason at the floating dock behind the hotel for a chance to hook the elusive Triple Crown.

Fredericton is the only place in North America where you can potentially catch the three prized fish of muskie, striped bass and sturgeon. You don’t have to travel far along the Saint John River to do so either, and no fishing license is necessary.  Different species gather in various spots between the Westmoreland Street Bridge, the Bill Thorpe Walking Bridge and Princess Margaret Bridge.   We first trolled for the muskie, which are typically 30 to 40 inches long and put up quite a fight.  Unfortunately none were biting the juicy night crawlers on the hook. Then we went for the ‘stripies’ and sturgeon, and struck out again.  I remember fishing with a local in Jamaica who told me that “every day is a fishing day, but not every day is a catching day.”  It’s always a good day to be on the water though.  Matt told me September is the best time of year to go for the Triple Crown, and that all three fish are catch and release.   As the sun set on the smooth waters, casting shadows across the steeples of Fredericton, it was beautiful just being on the Saint John River, admiring the views, and enjoying the conversation.   A gorgeous sunset concluded the fishing expedition, enhanced by the illuminated kayaks of Wolastoq Adventures, which depart from the jetty behind the Delta Hotel.
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There’s plenty to keep families busy in Moncton and Fredericton, and we haven’t even got to the province’s biggest draw, the Bay of Fundy.  With world-class art, living history, and fun, quirky activities, there’s truly something for everyone.

“Don’t you ever just read a Grisham?” comments one of my friends.  It’s been a busy summer, making up for summers past as travel returns to its pre-pandemic boom.    After Tahiti and Sudbury, I dropped my bags, picked up my six-year-old son Galileo, and hopped over the Rockies to see what Calgary is up to these days.   In a city accustomed to booms and busts, the boom is back.  We’d spend a few days researching the urban and regional attractions that met my ‘bucket list’ criteria, chasing columns and new chapters for the upcoming second edition of The Great Western Canadian Bucket List.   There would be time for bedtime stories, but that’s about it. .

We kick off with the Yamnuska Wolf Dog Sanctuary outside of Cochrane, a facility that rescues and shelters hybrid animals that belong in neither a domestic or wilderness environment.  That doesn’t stop idiots breeding wolf-dogs, for idiots who think it would be cool to own a wolf.  What they get are shy yet aggressive animals that make terrible pets, with untamed instincts requiring constant attention and secure zoo-like enclosures. Breeding wolf dogs is, inexplicably, legal in Alberta.  The sanctuary does a fantastic job educating the public, looking after the animals they rescue, and advocating for both wolves, canines and hybrids.  Next we drive into the foothills of the Rockies to spend the night with Tracey and Tim at Painted Warriors, a hands-on Indigenous cultural and wilderness experience that invited conversation around the campfire, archery in the forest, star-gazing, and nature walks.  Among many other things, I learn I’ve been aiming with the wrong eye all my life (no wonder I always miss), how aspen makes natural sunblock powder, and that a professional archer can hit the top of a golf tee from fifty yards.  Above all else, I learn yet again that meeting good people always results in a good time.

We drive back to the city, pick up outrageously good smoked meat sandwiches and ice-cream at the Calgary Farmers Market, and head across the highway for Downhill Karting. It’s the same luge contraption I discovered many years ago in New Zealand outside of Rotorua, and it’s fun to share the experience with my delighted kid. It’s the first time we’ve done a trip just the two of us together, and while Gali doesn’t have gunpowder energy of his Tahiti-toting sister, he’s observant, measured, and willing to give everything a go.

We’re here for a good time, not a long time, so it’s off to Lazy Day Rafting Rentals to float down the Bow River and experience one of Calgary’s more iconic summer activities.  Gali super-soaked ducks and geese as the river gently floated us from our entry point to the Bow River Pathway Bridge.   Drop off the boat, check-into the Residence Inn, and stroll over to The Mash, which upcycles grain from a microbrewery into delicious pizza dough.   My pizza had everything on it, Gali ordered plain cheese.  One day he will order toppings, add Tabasco, and say: “So this is why you order pizza with everything on it.”  I look forward to that day.
 
We’re heading out the city again, but before we do, we pop into the National Music Centre to see Randy Bachman’s insane guitar collection, learn about Canada’s outsized role in the history of popular music, mix some beats, and gawk at the 64-foot one-man orchestra known as the Kimball Theatre Organ.   We pop into the Hangar Flight Museum by the airport, and hit the road for the Good Knights Medieval Encampment for an evening of medieval glamping.  This is an actual thing, and as you can read in my column for Canadian Geographic, it’s a very fine thing indeed!    We dressed up, threw fake axes, jousted with real swords, and watched lords and ladies dance under the big prairie sky.  We’d immersed ourselves in a fun, family-friendly world that is one-part history and one-part Lord of the Rings / Game of Thrones / Dungeons and Dragons fantasy.   The things you can do in Canada never cease to amaze me.  

​A few days later, we’re out the country so I can take my kids to a place I swore I’d never take them to.  You can read all about it here, with an honest column that I hope captures the parent’s experience of Disneyland.  I’m not a theme park kinda guy, but visiting Disneyland was never going to be about me: it’s all about the kids, and the kids had a great time.  We stayed the Grand California over the 4th of July weekend, when the park was heaving with visitors.  The Genie + pass was essential to avoid the line-ups, but we probably should have eased Gali into the rides before kicking things off with a dark rollercoaster of Space Mountain. I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me.   His sister, meanwhile, gravitated to the fastest, loudest, scariest rides.  It’s remarkable these kids came from the same womb.  I turned a shade of lime after the rollercoaster and falling elevator rides in Disney Adventure Park.   In truth, the ride I was looking forward to most was a Harley Davidson Road King waiting for me back in Vancouver.

Last year I researched a story about renting a Harley from EagleRider Rentals in Vancouver, joining a bike crew on a road trip up Vancouver Island, ferrying to Bella Coola, and back through the BC interior.  A year later, I join most of the same group (which happen to include the excellent Daniel Cook Band), and we roar off for a four-day loop of Vancouver to Osoyoos to Nelson to Lillooet to Vancouver.  Once we got out of the congested city and past the summer construction, our bikes could blitz through the sweltering, rolling countryside.  Motorcycles were out in full force, giving the eponymous biker wave when passing each other.  Daniel and his band busted out their instruments in the evenings, which added a wonderful dimension to the trip, and delighted large groups of bikers with an impromptu roof top party at the Adventure Hotel in Nelson.    We swam in the warm waters of Christina Lake, did a long, knee-cramping day in the saddle, played obligatory games of cribbage and did a memorable sidewalk jam in Lillooet.   The diverse landscape and excellent roads of British Columbia delivered the goods.   I’ve joined EagleRider’s membership program, and look forward to making this an annual tradition.  

​A weekend in Birch Bay, Washington (or as I like to call it, Canada in the USA), back across the Rocks for a wonderful wedding at the River Café in Calgary, and we’re up to date! I’m leaving early tomorrow morning to hike the East Coast Trail in Newfoundland.   July has been one for the books, but it’s going to get really busy in August.  Reading a Grisham can wait. 

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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. 

​We’re just minutes into the rally, and I’m clutching onto some key advice:

•  It doesn’t help if you’re on time, but off course.
• Race your own rally.

I’m also clutching a clipboard, as I call out instructions from the passenger seat in Dave Cohen’s 1964 silver Porsche 356.   His car is effortlessly hugging the pastoral roads of the Oregon countryside, Number 43 in the annual Northwest Classic Car Rally.   Based in Portland, it’s the oldest classic car rally in the USA, drawing drivers from as far afield as Colorado and BC.   It took us eight hours to drive from Vancouver to the starting line, and I had learned my first lesson when it comes to rallies:  these people love their cars, and they love to drive them. 
 
Dave, my rally Obi-Wan, is a case in point.  A successful businessman living in West Vancouver, he’s the owner of over a dozen classic cars, including a pre-war Bentley and Rolls Royce.  That’s pre-World War 1.    A 20-year rally veteran, Dave’s run the Peking to Paris (twice), along with rallies in Australia, New Zealand and Europe.   For this year’s Northwest Classic, open to pre-1981 collector cars, Dave’s selected his reliable 356 Porsche.  He explains it will allow him to focus on the race, as opposed to keeping the car going.   Race is not exactly the right word.   It’s more like a Sunday drive, with two hundred good friends, and a purpose. 
 
Crawling along the I5 to Portland, Dave gives me the basics of time-speed-distance rallying.   Drivers and navigators are given instructions that must be followed to the letter, and to the second.  Each car is spaced one minute apart, driving at suggested speeds to enable us to reach, say, a particular stop sign in exactly 2:43 seconds, or a right turn at 7:29.   Teams calibrate their odometers, and must factor traffic and rally rules.  We never exceed the speed limit, unless we’re running late, in which case, well, these are classic sport cars.
 

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
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​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.    

This month sees the publication of my 9th and probably most personal book,  75 Must See Places to Take the Kids (before they don’t want to go).    You see, while living and writing The Great Australian Bucket List, I was also travelling with my wife and two kids, aged 2 and 5, writing and researching this one.  But family travel, I was learning, is an entirely different beast.   We discovered some truly incredible wonders for all ages, gathered priceless memories, and also learned a thing or two.   To celebrate the launch of this beautiful, funny, inspiring and honest new book, here’s some of that hard-fought wisdom for parents of young kids, and the people and family who support them.  It works for Australia, but it works for everywhere else too. ​

• There Are No Gurus​

​With due respect, any Mom or Dad who claims to have family travel figured out is delusional, likely fibbing, or paying someone a lot of money to look after their kids. The truth is: young kids do not give a flying crap about your best laid plans and intentions. Rather, they’ll make a crap while you’re flying (probably an explosive one, the kind that just violates a diaper).   Children under the age of five are frequently erratic, inefficient, agitated, annoying, moody, and instinctively know how to push your buttons. And this is before you take them on a stressful journey. Of course, you love them more than anything in the world, and there are moments of such tenderness, magic and wonder it makes all other forms of travel – backpacking, honeymooning, grey nomading – pale. But you will work for those moments, and pay for them in blood, sweat, tears and dollars. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

• Packing

​Before you depart, resign yourself to the fact that you’re going to pack far more than you need. Imagining every conceivable scenario, you simply can’t help yourself. What if it gets unseasonably hot, cold, wet, dry, or buggy? If it does, you can deal with it with a quick visit to the store, mall or market. Our kids outgrew their shoes twice in 10 months. For almost a year, their wardrobe consisted of a small suitcase that seemed to refresh its garments along the way, when the holes and stains and smells overwhelmed the clothing’s usefulness. Even with a limited selection, our five year old would have meltdowns over her fashion choices, with a favourite dress or shirt cast out from one day to the next. Your best bet is to pack a travel uniform of sorts, with the same garment combo in multiples. Good luck with that.

You can buy 75 Must-See Places To Take The Kids at most bookshops in Australia and New Zealand, including online at  Booktopia and Dymocks, and through Book Depository anywhere in the world. 

We are just minutes into the rally, and I’m clutching onto some key advice:

• It doesn’t help if you’re on time, but off course.
• Race your own rally.

I’m also clutching a clipboard, as I call out instructions from the passenger seat in Dave's 1964 silver Porsche 356.   His car is effortlessly hugging the pastoral roads of the Oregon countryside,  Number 43 in the annual Monte Shelton Northwest Pacific Classic Car Rally.   Based in Portland, it’s the oldest classic car rally in the USA, drawing drivers from as far afield as Colorado and BC.   It took us eight hours to drive from Vancouver to the starting line, but I had learned my first lesson when it comes to rallies:  These people love their cars, and they love to drive them. ​

Dave, my rally Obi-Wan, is a case in point.  He’s the owner of over a dozen classic cars, including a pre-war Bentley and Rolls Royce.  That’s pre World War 1.    A 25-year rally veteran, Dave’s run the Peking to Paris (twice), along with rallies in Australia, New Zealand and Europe.   For the Northwest Classic, open to pre-1981 collector cars, Dave’s selected his reliable 356 Porsche.  He explains it will allow him to focus on the race, as opposed to keeping the car going.   Race is not exactly the right word.   It’s more like a Sunday drive, with two hundred good friends, and a purpose. ​

As a first time navigator, I am determined not to let my driver down.  Dave’s wife, who normally takes the navigator role, has already warned me:  Whatever is said in the car doesn’t count.   Things can get heated when the pressure is on, and a slight navigator omission can send our car rallying down the rankings.   There’s even a tongue-in-cheek award, the Flying Clipboard, for the team most notably cracking at the seams. ​

Dave lets me take the wheel on our long drive back to Vancouver.   This time, we’re taking the longer, scenic route to avoid the traffic on the highway.   The Porsche hums along the coast, reflecting tree tunnels, turning heads.  There’s no power steering, no air con, and no CD Player to distract me from the act of driving itself.    Classic cars are all about the experience.  Much like the rally events that bring them together. ​

I’ve cage dived with crocodiles, hung off the side of holy mountains in China, and vacationed in Chernobyl, but here’s the truth:  the thought of travelling for the first time with my 4 year old daughter Raquel and 9-month old son Galileo terrified me. Curly-haired Raquel seems to have fallen Obelix-like into a cauldron of Red Bull, she’s a T4 bull in a china shop of tranquillity. Gali is newly teething, crawling, and hasn’t seen a hazard he hasn’t wanted to wrap his gums or baby carrot fingers around.   Still, it’s time to break them in, because with a Dad like me, travel is in their future.  So I thought I’d start somewhere easy and beautiful, spreading a couple weeks over a range of accommodation options.  Expectations are the death of travel, and yet toddlers are particularly gifted when it comes to ensuring that no high hope is trampled under the weight of their hyper-emotional little piggies.    ​

The Flight
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No matter how great your toddler vacation is, the reality is it will be bookended by a plane ride three stories up from hell.   I fly a lot.  It’s my chance to work, read, watch a movie, daydream at altitude.   A six-hour direct flight from Vancouver to Maui should be nothing.  If the kids sleep.  To stack the odds in my favour,  I reached out to Fly-Tot, who sell an inflatable legroom pillows.  We’d be flying in late at night.    How bad could it be?   Bad.  Real bad.  Gali is chewing on the tray tables and seatbelts (and you know how often they get cleaned).  Raquel is vibrating with kicks and punches.  Rather than sleeping, the kids are using the Fly-Tot as a trampoline.   Playing Frozen on the iPad worked, but it only worked once, and then Raquel... let it go.  Like condemned prisoners at a public hanging, my wife and I gaze into the eyes of fellow toddler parents, dealing with the trauma of their own journey.  Each minute of each hour has the weight of a cannonball.   So frazzled by the experience, I commit a cardinal travel sin and forget our two bottles of duty free liquor – blessed late night Scotch/Baileys escape  - on the plane.  Air Canada’s cleaning staff relieve us of the bottles no more than five minutes after we deplane and I remember the forgotten bag.  “Sorry sir, our cleaners didn’t find anything.”   Aloha to them. ​

Car Rental
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Welcome to Maui!   Grab our bags and shuttle to the car rental, and spend 45 minutes in a late night line-up.  Now the kids want to sleep.  I push two chairs together and Raquel passes out.  I feel like Parent of the Year.   Get the van, install the car seats, strap in the kids, load in the luggage.  It’s a 45-minute late night drive in the rain to Wailea.  Could anything be worth this? ​

Buffet breakfasts have ruined us.   Raquel quickly gets used to her one mouthful of a dozen different dishes, and miso soup is now a breakfast staple.   We tag team feeding both kids as Gali singlehandedly supports the birdlife of Hawaii who gather beneath the snow of egg that falls from his high chair.   Staff give us crayons for the kids each morning, and Gali’s favourite breakfast dish becomes the colour Red.  Hours turn to days as we rotate between the pool, suite and beach.   Raquel is too young for Kea Lani’s Keiki Kids Club, but she can drop into the stocked daycare-like facilities in the afternoon, when Gali is napping and the sun is too strong.  There were so many toys I almost cried when we walked into the room for the first time. We explore the grounds, make a run to the nearest supermarket, buy the only two things we didn’t pack while realizing we won’t need most of the things we did.  ​

Road Trip
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The bucket list drive in Maui is the road to Hana, a hairpin-winding track alongside soaring ocean cliffs.    We made three turns and turned around, avoiding the projectile backseat vomit we knew would follow.  This pretty much ruled out a drive to the Haleakala volcano crater too, which I’ll have to get to once the kids are a little older.  We did drive to Makena Beach where Raquel flew a kite for the first time.  I brought it from home and she didn’t want to do anything except fly that kite.  She flew it for exactly 34 seconds, and never wanted to see it again.  We drove up to Twin Falls and got some great photos amidst the giant bamboo and dual cascades.     The Banyen Tree in Lahaina is unlike any tree I’ve ever seen, sporting 16 trunks and a block-wide canopy.  We ate lunch in the Flatbread Company in Paia, after which I lost my wife and daughter in the shops.   Raquel was having an allergic to reaction to her all-natural sunblock or the heat or the seawater, or something the Internet told us could probably be treated with a little Benedryl.  New parents would spend a day in a local hospital, only to be told to use a little Benedryl.   Fortunately we’re over the paranoia and worry that accompanies the firstborn.   Instead we visit Baby Beach where the full-face snorkel mask I bought for Raquel is thoroughly enjoyed by all other kids on the beach.   They tell me it works like a charm. ​

Dry Falls is a Washington State Park Heritage Area, and the small but useful interpretation centre is a roadside attraction for bikers, RV'ers, and curious bucket listers.  The viewpoint, as you can see below, is well worth the pit stop.   It doesn’t really surprise me that many people who live in the region don’t know about the fascinating, historically significant and scenically stunning Scablands.  My efforts to contact anyone who actually serves to promote tourism in Washington were as fruitless as the pock-mocked Scablands themselves.   Not too far away however, plump apples and pears are bursting in the groves that line the highway.  There is always hope. ​