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. 

A few years ago, my wife and I took our 4-year-old daughter and 18-month-old son on a 6-month adventure across Australia.  We did this because I was writing two books about travel Down Under, and because we are insane. 

Since our hard-earned experience might be of use to other parents, I thought I'd share some of the practical sections from my bestselling Australian book: 75 Must-See Places to Take the Kids (before they don't want to go).   It might save your soul and sanity, and no matter how old your kids are, will likely make you laugh.  

​Food has always been a vital component of travel.  Every meal is an opportunity to saviour new cuisines, sparking conversation and connection. It’s a special time to sit back, relax, and indulge.  When you’re travelling with young children, forget all that.   ​

The rule of thumb is that the more expensive the restaurant, the less likely your children will actually eat anything of nutritional value, and the more likely they will throw a full-tilt meltdown because their crayon isn’t the right shade of forest green.   

The formula of your typical family travel meal:

​Location:  A small town restaurant with a fridge buzzing at an almost intolerable volume, but which the owners don’t seem to hear or mind.   Air-conditioning a plus.
Enter:  Family of four, two kids under five.   After walking around looking for somewhere to eat for twenty minutes, if you even suggest finding somewhere else, your partner will call a divorce lawyer, or possibly, a hit man. 
High Chair:  Available in wood or plastic, with dried brown stains of mysterious culinary origin.
Kids Menu:  All major food groups represented, including fried chicken nuggets, fried fish, hamburgers, frozen pizza, grilled cheese sandwiches, and most importantly, chips.  Apple juice is from concentrate and somehow contains both sugar and high-fructose corn syrup.
Cost:  Exactly one-third more than you’d expect to pay, but the kids’ meal comes with milk or apple juice, and that sounds healthy.
Order:  Nuggets for the one kid, grilled cheese sandwich for the other.   Order placed immediately to get the kids fed as soon as possible.  
The Wait: Interminable.  What are they doing, processing the fake cheese, looking for a bird to slaughter?    Whines increase in volume and frequency until breaking point.
Length of time used up for washing hands:  Twenty minutes convincing your kid to do it, eight seconds when they actually do. 
Length of time used up for colouring books:  Four minutes and twelve seconds, including one full minute of your two year-old chewing on the crayon before you notice.  
Length of time used up for reading books:  Forty-five seconds.
Length of time used up with apps on phone or tablet:  No, don’t do it yet, wait until it gets really bad, or you need your hands to eat.
The Food Pt 1:  As your kids will gladly explain in high-pitched screams to everyone within the zoning district, they now want hamburgers and pizza, not chicken nuggets and grilled cheese sandwiches.     No amount of cajoling convinces them otherwise, including threats of starvation, boarding school, or withholding stuffies at night - all of which amounts to more punishment for you than for them.   Eventually you order the pizza and hamburger and realize that yet again, your partner and yourself will be dining on chicken nuggets and grilled cheese sandwiches.  
Reaction of Restaurant and Other Customers:  A coin toss between heaven-sent patience (they have kids or grandkids) and barely contained annoyance (they don’t).  
The Food Pt 2:  Ignored by both kids since by now they have raided the crackers and fruit you carry in the snack bag, and they are no longer hungry.  On the plus side, they had a healthier lunch than the restaurant menu anyway, plus you can always bag their food for later, when it can be enjoyed cold and soggy, just the way no kid on Earth likes it.
The Screen:  OK, use it, do it, just get a few minutes to shove that terrible food into your face so you don’t become over-hungry and lose whatever patience you still cling to.
The Bill:  Never comes quick enough, always costs more, and always makes you question why restaurants don’t put carrots, crackers and apple on their menus because that’s all kids want to eat anyway – at least until they see that on a menu, in which case carrots, crackers and apples will become instantly toxic. 
Length of Ordeal:  30 to 45 minutes, during which time you can count on at least one potty break, one diaper change, one smashed toy, and possibly, a broken marriage.

​Remember: sit back, relax, and indulge in the cultural connections of new cuisines.      
There, isn’t that better?

During our journey, we ambitiously took our kids to some wonderful restaurants, especially around Melbourne and Sydney’s Darling Harbour.   It was our sincere hope we’d be able to expand our kids’ culinary horizons, allowing them to graduate to mild spices and unusual dishes.  How proud I was when my daughter sampled crocodile, emu and kangaroo meats at the Adelaide Central Market (she drew her understandable limits at sampling citrus-nutty green ants from the Northern Territory).  
“This is dill-lish-shiss!” or a hearty “Mmmmmmm!” were not uncommon words out of her mouth.  We definitely had memorable meals, although we often deployed the screen to keep the kids occupied long enough for all of us to enjoy it.   Between eating in and eating out, it’s important to treat yourselves every once in a while and budget a little extra for good food.  At the end of the day, good food keeps you healthy, if the kids are behaving, meals can indeed be the highlight of the day.  
 
Tip: We found food delivery services to be a family travel revelation, combining the ease of going out with the ease of staying in.   

Wherever possible, we preferred preparing our own meals in our holiday park cabins,  Air Bnb’s and rental apartments.  Even though we had to shop, cook and clean up, dinners are just simpler at home.  We can feed the kids meals they’d actually eat, keep ourselves conveniently close to bathtubs, toys, paper towels, toilets, and TV shows on ABC Kids.   Always on the move, we travelled with a box of condiments and staples, pickings up fresh produce wherever we went (our kids are constantly snacking on fruit and vegetables, which are abundant and excellent in Australia).  Breakfasts are particularly important, and given our schedule, were often rushed.  Cereal, smashed avocado toast, Uncle Toby’s porridge, Milo, eggs… and out the door.   
Lunches were usually eaten out, hence the overflow of nuggets, sandwiches and chips, with pies coming to the rescue on more than one occasion.     Home cooking have given our kids a taste for asparagus, broccoli, Brussels sprouts, mushrooms, and other vegetables I rejected as a child.    Butter, lemon, salt and garlic pretty much saves the day with every veggie, along with olive oil and balsamic vinegar.  Our kids love butter chicken, schnitzel, warm bread to dip into olive oil, hummus, and absolutely anything to do with cheese.  Don’t they all?  We didn’t always have time to prepare elaborate meals, but did have some go-to dishes, and pasta or rotisserie chicken available always in a pinch.   There’s much to be said for the quality of packaged meats, chicken and salads available from supermarkets these days.    In our household, Dad does the cooking, Mom does the baking, and everyone cleans up. There were occasional BBQ’s but unless you’re travelling with your own, they’re often a pain to clean up.
​
If you need to make omelettes for dinner, do it.   If you need to eat leftover chicken for breakfast, do it.  
Do whatever you need to, because any food in the belly pays dividends when you avoid hangry meltdowns in an hour or two.

Bon voyage and bon appetit! 

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.  ​

1. Cradle Mountain, TAS
 Nature has a powerfully soothing effect on overexcited young kids.  The fresh air and scenery of Cradle Mountain, coupled with nearby attractions like Devils@Cradle wildlife park, made this Tassie jewel a highlight of our journey. The Dove Lake Circuit, my nomination for Australia’s most beautiful walk, might prove a little challenging for the very little ones, but forest walks, lake swims, and campsite BBQ’s will make up for it.

2. Shark Bay, WA
 Both parents and kids were disappointed with the over-hyped dolphin feeding at Monkey Mia, but there were big smiles all round when sailing the turquoise waters of Shark Bay, spotting dugongs, dolphins, and a glorious sunset.   Discovering Shell Beach, the Ocean Park Aquarium, Denham’s seaside playground, and the friendly locals that gather each evening inside the Shark Bay Inn proved just as successful.

3. Litchfield National Park, NT
 Two iconic national parks dominate the Top End, but Litchfield is far more accessible than Kakadu.  A two-hour drive on the 130 km/hr highway from Darwin, Litchfield is also packed with natural attractions in close proximity.  After gazing at the giant cathedral and magnetic termite mounds, we soaked up a memorable afternoon in the Buley Rockholes, where Nature has carved a series of refreshing pools and rock Jacuzzis. 

4. Melbourne Zoo’s Roar n’ Snore, VIC
 Camping overnight in one of the world’s best urban zoos is wild.   Driving into the zoo’s access gates after hours, it felt like we had entered Jurassic Park .  Our friendly hosts gave us a fascinating behind-the-scenes tour, and after a tasty BBQ, we strolled around the grounds discovering just how active animals are at night (lions included).  Waking to monkey howls and feeding giraffes all but guarantees a very happy camper.

5. Irukandji Shark and Ray Experience, NSW
 We did a lot of research scouring the country for unique experiences, but we also followed our noses.  A simple signpost outside of Port Stephens led us to this friendly,  family-run facility working hard to dispel fears and give visitors a hands-on encounter with various rays and sharks.   Our two year-old wasn’t convinced when a large smooth ray gave us a wet hug, but was awed watching me hand feed a 3-metre-long Tawny Nurse shark. 

6. Whitsundays, QLD
 “Best. Day. Ever!”  My daughter screamed these three words many times on our journey, my just reward for braving her meltdowns, food quirks, and occasional projectile vomit.  Fortunately, it was smooth sailing off Airlie Beach, hopping aboard a Cruise Whitsundays catamaran to snorkel, play beach cricket, and explore the squeaky pure sands of Whitehaven Beach.

7. Questacon National Science and Technology Centre, ACT
 We took the kids to fantastic museums around the country, and there were definite standouts:  MONA in Hobart, the Melbourne Museum, National Gallery of Victoria, and the WA Maritime Museum in Fremantle.  From the moment they encountered a thespian robot in the lobby of Canberra’s Questacon, my kids tuned into science through the museum’s outstanding interactive displays.  

8. Oceanic Victor, SA
 Having braved Monarto Zoo’s innovative and unnerving Lions360 experience, I took my kids to Victor Harbour to get up close and personal with large blue-fin tuna.  Built for educational and tourism purposes, this offshore holding pen is home to 80 prized tuna, blitzing about as we fed them sardines under the guidance of friendly marine biologists.  Swimming with these speedy “Ferraris of the Ocean” is an unusual and delightful tick on the national bucket list.

​Flying:
Don’t overwhelm yourself with bringing too many toys on the plane, as you’ll just overwhelm yourself. A colouring book and device loaded with educational apps or their favourite Netflix shows (which can now be downloaded to tablets) will suffice.  If your kid keeps licking seat trays that were last wiped down in the 1980’s, don’t worry. Ours survived and yours will too.  Invest in durable over-ear headphones to fit small ears, and always carry easy-to-access snacks.   
 
Driving:
Plan longer drives around nap times.  Keep a barf bag or towel in easy reach.  Get to know signs of car sickness, like moans and eye rolling, as a few minutes break here will always be preferable to a half hour clean-up there.  Load up your phone with your kids’ favourite songs.  Build in extra time for playgrounds to exhaust their energy along the way.  Imagination games buy some time, as will devices (although it could also buy you motion sickness). Instead of playing Tetris with your luggage, consider renting a trailer.   
 
Hotels:
Ask for extra towels and call in advance if you need a crib (we travelled with an sturdy yet ultralight crib from Melbourne’s Valco Baby).  Bring a favourite stuffed toy and light blanket for each child to ensure consistency at night.  Rooms higher up are less noisy.   Download a white noise track for your phone or tablet to drown out noisy neighbours.  Move all breakables out of reach, and push tables with sharp corners to the side.  Remove what you can from the mini-bar to fill the fridge with milk and snacks (and avoid temptation).   With playgrounds and swimming pools, Discovery Holiday Park cabins and self-catering Oaks apartment rentals served us better than traditional hotel rooms. 
 
Restaurants:
Weathering the judgmental gaze of pre-digital and holier than thou parents, we faced a choice:  employ the screen to enjoy our meal in relative peace and quiet, or forget the screen and risk food fights, tantrums, and spills.  There will be plenty of opportunities for both, of course, and we usually start with colouring books and small toys before resorting to the device. Restaurants seem to think kids survive solely on chicken nuggets, fish and chips, and spaghetti.  We often shared our healthier “adult” dishes, and ordered extra veggies on the side.

It’s been too many years since my last gift guide, which gathered an eclectic collection of travel-ish products I thought were interesting, helpful, appreciated, unique, or fun. What do you give to someone who has everything?  For starters, you can remind them how lucky they are.  You might consider an experience (memories tend to stick around much longer than products).   If that doesn’t work, maybe something on the list below will work.  A list that includes fire, feet, fun, and something for your butt, because that's how my Gift Guides roll...

Solo Stove Backyard Fire Pit (Ranger + Stand)
 
Here’s a fact:  You can’t roast marshmallows over a propane fire pit.  Well, you can, they just taste like propane, which isn’t very nice at all.  Propane fire-pits might be convenient, but it also lacks the crackle and pop of wood, those five senses of a real fire. It’s also a pain to carry around.  All of which makes the stainless-steel Solo Stove so appealing.  It takes seconds to set up, holds (and with clever air-flow design) sustains a lovely fire, and its base ensures no damage or scorch marks to grass, wood or any outdoor surface beneath it.   Sitting about knee high,  the Solo Stove has a metal net option to trap any unwanted embers, and burns way less smoke than your typical fire put.    Once you’re done and the ranger has cooled down, simply tip the pit over and feed your plants with fine ash.  All of which makes for an instant, easy-to-use fine looking fire pit, and s’mores that don’t taste like a gas tank.  
 
From: $299
Link: https://ca.solostove.com/fire-pits/fire-pit-stand-bundles/

Brutrek BaseCamp Travel Press
 
Coffee was a contentious issue camping this summer.   We obviously needed a good cup to get us going in the morning, but it takes time to do coffee properly, and instant coffee is well, instant coffee.   Introducing a clever travelling press that lets you enjoy your favourite beans, without worrying about smashing glass, or the black gold losing its steam.   The sturdy, double-walled, insulated stainless steel body is topped by a spill-proof, leak-proof lid with a press that keeps the ground beans firmly at the bottom and avoids overcooking the brew.   Available in two sizes, it’s an easy clean-up, and a trusty companion on long hikes too. 
 
From $100 including shipping
Link: https://planetarydesign.com/product/basecamp-french-press/

Keen Tempo Flex Waterproof
I live in a coastal rainforest masquerading as a city. Vancouver is wet, and waterproof shoes are a must. Trainers and runners are fine for rare sunny days, but soaking my cold wet feet in cold wet socks is an experience I’d rather avoid. Keen’s light Tempo Flex waterproof running/hiking/walking hybrids have a speed-lace, slip-on fit, high traction rubber sole, and importantly, don’t look like a baboon’s butt on your feet. They aren’t as wide as Keen’s usual hikers though, but will definitely cut it for urban wear, day hikes or trail running. Most importantly, they keep feet dry. I just checked the weather: solid rain for the next 7 days. Guess there’s only one pair of shoes I’ll be wearing then. Available for Men and Women.

Link: https://www.keenfootwear.com/
From: $180

Sigvaris Travel Compression Socks

Here’s a couple travel tips that will forever change your experience on long haul flights. Firstly: stay away from tomato juice. It’s loaded with sodium, and in the compressed cabin at altitude, it will have your feet swelling up like helium balloons. I only used to drink tomato juice on planes figuring it must be good for you, but a well-versed flight attendant informed it’s the opposite. Stay off the salt! Secondly: slip on a pair of compression socks, which dramatically improves blood circulation to your legs and feet. The result are feet and limbs that feel fresh, rested, and ready to go just as soon as you arrive. Sigvaris Compression socks come in a variety of pattern, styles and fabrics, and will become your new essential travel companion.

​Link: https://www.sigvaris.com/en-ca/shop/experience/travel
From: $40

Fix n Zip
You have a perfectly fine daypack, backpack, sleeping bag or tent. More than perfectly fine. You’ve broken the mustang in, made it home, figured out every compartment, worked out the nooks and crannies. Then the zipper slider breaks, because that’s what zippers eventually do. You might repair it with a zip tie, and now you have a really ugly piece of equipment. You might call a tailor shop who will charge you more to repair the thing than it’s worth. Or you can take this handy little gadget that slots over the slider, thumbscrews in, and voila, instant repair. No thread, no needle, no tools, no fuss. Fix n Zip is made out of durable nickel and works on plastic and metal zippers. You can unscrew it and use it on multiple zips, and it might just save your dress or clothing too. Simple, effective, and adding a few more years to my old trusty backpack.
​
Link: https://www.fixnzip.com/
From: $10

PackStack

When it comes to backpacking, packing remains one of the biggest pains in the, well, back. We tend to take too much, use too little, and spend way too much time squeezing and shoving in our stuff when it’s time to pack up. Top-down packs are particularly difficult to get organized. PackStack is a simple system of stackable water or weatherproof compartments where everything can finally have its place. There’s a top handle to pull everything out, and its crescent shape naturally take care of dead space in your backpack. Compartments can separate toiletries from electronics, food from clothing, and it naturally stacks within itself once you’re done.
​
Link: https://www.hillsound.ca/products/packstack
From: $25

Luxe Bidet

Here’s one you can’t take this one with you (unless you install it in an RV or caravan). Trust me, once you bidet, it’s hard to go back. There’s something intrinsically refreshing about having a washed derriere (as many Eastern cultures know only too well). There’s quite a few of these gadgets on the market. I found Luxe Bidet to be affordable, easy to install, and great to deal with too. At just $50, it’s easily my most gifted item of 2021, although everyone I gifted it too didn’t think they needed such a thing – seriously Esrock, what the hell?! Then they installed it, tried it, and now they thank me. What gave me the idea for a bidet? Well, my bestselling Bucket List books have always made great toilet reads.
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Link: https://amzn.to/2Zoienn
From: $50

How to Invent Everything by Ryan North
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I used to think I was the only one worried what might happen if a solar storm wiped out electricity, or the internet went down forever, or humanity suddenly reverted back to the Stone Age. How do things actually work? How does the average person save thousands of years of invention without having to figure everything out… again? Using the construct of a stranded time traveller, Ryan North takes on, well… everything we’ve ever invented, and explains how to recreate it using only the basic elements available to someone stranded thousands of years ago. Short, punchy chapters with illustrations teach us how to build kerns and ploughs, art and engineering. The breadth and research of this book makes it, literally, the only manual that needs to survive Armageddon to give humanity some hope of returning to civilization. In the process, you’ll learn tons about history, philosophy, the environment, engineering, the stars, and just about everything North focused his unflinching and impressive curiosity on.
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Link: https://amzn.to/3vHOFt3
Costs: $20

Congratulations!  Each decade of your life is an accomplishment. Goals are realized, professions evolve, priorities shift, families grow and experience is gained.  This is also reflected in how we choose to travel, and where we choose to go.   Celebrating these important milestones, I've gathered inspiring destinations to suit this passage of time.  Of course, every journey is unique. You can turn these decades upside down, or mix them up entirely. A bucket list is as special and individual as the person who crafts it, and each life journey is one’s own.   As for the passing of the years themselves, I defer to the wisdom of Mark Twain:  “Age is an issue of mind over matter.  If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter!” ​

In our twenties, we travel to relish in the excess.  All night parties, camping on beaches, intense relationships – all with a no-holds-barred commitment to the carefree abandon of youth.  It's a time to make the kind of mistakes you'll learn from, and sacrifices you'd only make when you're young.  Legends of Full Moon parties and all-night desert parties sound particularly appealing, and you don't mind sleeping on floors or eating instant noodles for a month if it means you can get to them.  Backpacking across Western Europe is a rite of passage, although it's also very expensive,  Stretching your travel dollar, you'll be drawn to budget-travel meccas like Thailand, Central America, India and Laos. You might be drawn to a Kibbutz in Israel or volunteering with animals in Bolivia.  Everything and everyone will be particularly vivid and intense, an opportunity to learn and grow and let your hair down.  You'll only realize just how big that opportunity was when you're further along your life journey. ​

At last, the kids are at summer camp, or old enough to join us on an adventure that's physical, but not too strenuous.   As careers stabilize and hobbies strengthen, perhaps it’s time to hike the Inca Trail, trek in Nepal, or spend our well-earned holidays on a multi-day bike ride through the valleys of Italy or France.  A fly-in fishing trip in Canada, a multi-day rafting excursion between the Grand Canyon,  or maybe just an epic road trip to explore the Oregon coast, Route 66, Yellowstone or Banff National Parks.   Consider a few weeks camping across Iceland, or taking a tour to pack in the highlights of Western Europe. Volunteering in a foreign country delivers a rich, rewarding experience.   Teaching kids, building wells, looking after rescued animals – making a difference in the lives of others makes a difference for us too. Old enough to know better and yet young enough to go with the flow, the forties is a milestone decade to follow our feet, and safely veer off the beaten track. ​

We’ve always wanted to go there.  We’ve always wanted to do that.  As we enter the seventh decade of life, we realize our bucket list destinations are not going anywhere, but we most certainly are. Fortunately, in an age of affordable airfare and such a diverse variety of packages, our dreams are more accessible than ever.   Cruise among the islands and abundant wildlife of the Galapagos.  On the plains of the Serengeti and the legendary Masai Mara, witness the migration of the wildebeest from the comforts of a luxury, or self-catered bush camp, and make friends with Masai tribesmen.  It’s not always easy, but we’ll put up with a sweaty trek for a face-to-face encounter with endangered mountain gorillas in the jungles of Central Africa.  Iconic landmarks like the Great Wall of China and the Coliseum, the Eiffel Tower and the Taj Mahal draw us like magnets.   Perhaps it’s also time to finally tick off that Alaska or Caribbean cruise, or visit long-lost relatives in the nations of our ancestors.   Let’s celebrate how far we’ve come, and appreciate the value of all that is to follow. ​

A global crisis will either bring the world together, or tear us even further apart.  As I write, there are plenty of people and organizations working hard to make both scenarios a reality.   No sports, concerts, events, festivals?  No cruise ships, parades, parties, schools or restaurants?   No offices, no staff meetings, no touching, no looking, no French kisses or Italian hugs?  How much can the economy take?   Will it snap back with vengeance, or evolve into something altogether different?  When the curtains drop, and the Coronovirus circus ends, will humanity celebrate with a debauchery the planet has never seen before?  There's a scene in the prescient Kathryn Bigelow film, Strange Days, that shows a city combusting.  You're not quite sure if the masses are rioting, protesting, destroying or celebrating.   That's what we can look forward to when this is all over.  Business as unusual.  Meanwhile, as icecaps melt and forests burn, scientists are beseeching the world to do something already about climate change, a call to arms that mustered but a fraction of the response to the latest pandemic.  To use another entertainment analogy, I can't help but wonder if the coronavirus is akin to the politics of Kings Landing in Game of Thrones, while the larger existential threat of the White Walkers marches ever closer. Climate change won't just target the vulnerable elderly: it's coming for us all.  Forgive me,  I've just been streaming too much.  ​

Speaking of which, I'm delighted to share news that my show (the most misspelt title in the history of television) WORD TRAVELS is now available to stream on Amazon Prime.  That's all three beautiful seasons, filmed in 36 countries, visiting spectacular locations to tick off incredible adventures that will inspire dreamers of all ages and interests.    Since it's likely most of the world is going to be in quarantine for a while, I hope you'll continue to feed your travel bug, keeping that poor, battered creature nourished within the insulated warmth of your soul.  Rest assured, the planes will once again take off, the ships and trains will depart, the museums will open, and the world will be a better place soon.  I know this, because it has always been so. ​

You can access all episodes of Word Travels here. ​

With over 40 million downloads, 200,000 5-star reviews, and Best App of the Year Awards from both Apple and Google, the Calm app has hit a cultural bulls eye with sharpened z-shaped arrows.   It’s loaded with meditations, ambient music and soundscapes, and dozens of sleep stories narrated by folks like Matthew McConaughey, Stephen Fry, Joanna Lumley, and The Wire’s Clarke Peters, who has richer Morgan Freeman voice than Morgan Freeman himself.   Millions of satisfied subscribers swear that Calm does exactly as its very name suggests: it calms you down, whether you set-up an easy 15-minute Focus or Anxiety meditation, a fiction or non-fiction story to lull you to sleep, or soothing sounds to massage your ear canal.  ​

​Back in the UK where she lives, Phoebe is known for her books and stories about sleeping in unusual, extreme and wild places.  I quite like the fact that Calm didn’t hire a scientist or psychologist to methodically bore you to sleep, but rather a storyteller. “Storytelling is such an old tradition, it’s how knowledge and wisdom has been passed down throughout history,” says Phoebe.  But hang on, aren’t you essentially writing stories so boring it puts people to sleep?      “As a kid, you didn’t want a boring story, but there’s definitely a technique involved.  There can’t be too much action or excitement, and it should take you on a journey, which is why trains, boats, rivers and forests work so well.   Feedback suggests that most people fall asleep within five to ten minutes, but I get lots of emails from people around the world wanting to know more about the places I write about.”    Places like the lavender fields of Provence, the jungles of Madagascar, the Mississippi River and the forgotten forests of Morocco.  There are travel stories about oceans and deserts, safaris and night skies. 
​There are train journeys aboard the Orient Express, the Trans-Siberia, and yes, our adventure aboard The Ghan.  We both agree that stories are a far healthier alternative to medication and sleep aids.

“These days, we often treat sleep as an inconvenience,” Phoebe explains.  “There’s so much going on and instantly available that we can’t switch off, which only adds to the anxiety.”   It’s why she turns off her devices at least an hour before bed, keeps her bedroom free of distractions, and is passionate about sleeping in the wild.  “When it gets dark, you sleep, and when the sun rises, you wake up.  It’s the natural rhythm of our bodies, and it makes you feel calm and rested.”   Unlike Phoebe, the very thought of sleeping outdoors, exposed and alone on say, a mountain top, freaks my poor brain out.  So I’ll ignore her advice and keep my iPhone handy, ready to load up a Calm sleep story, and let her words inspire a blissful lullaby. ​

You can follow Phoebe's extreme sleeps and wild camping here. 
Learn more about Calm here. ​

Travellers carry towels, never iron their clothes, and freak out when there’s a schedule.  Tourists stay in nice hotels, look forward to going home, and typically pay the set price.   Travellers discard guidebooks, tourists clutch them closely to their chests.   Travellers need a holiday when they return home, tourists leave home for a holiday.   Or vice-versa. ​

The Traveller vs Tourist is a timeless, heated debate.  Many backpackers make proud, public announcements so nobody might confuse them with being a tourist.  Many tourists seem compelled to sheepishly justify their package vacation, while others would never dream of leaving the comfort bubble of a tour bus.   Never mind that both groups are united in the same purpose – to leave their homes and discover something new.   And never mind that tourists don’t seem too bothered by the whole debate in general – it’s usually travellers, sitting in a dive bar, scratching the dirt from under their fingernails, scoffing at the thought of seeing anywhere from the comfort of, dare I say it, a brightly coloured tour bus. ​

Every single one of us is different, and every single one of us will have a different experience, even if we’re in the same place.   Further, by definition, anyone who travels can be called a traveller.  Some travellers like comfort, peace of mind with their security, being told where to go, and even what to wear.  Some travellers like crowded buses, smelly toilets, sleeping in dorms and bargaining for everything.  Seriously, they love this stuff!   Judging someone by the experience they choose (with little thought to decision-making factors like budget, time, health, or personal preference) is like judging someone because of the colour of their skin, religion, or personal belief.  ​

There, I’ve said it.   The old debate is nothing more than thinly veiled racism, which, like all racism, is steeped in ignorance, fear, envy, and several ounces of basic stupidity.  Still, I don’t see the argument ending anytime soon.    As I watched the busload of Japanese name-taggers descend on my (my!) hard-fought temple, having being comfortably dropped off by their luxury air-conditioned bus, I couldn’t help but feel they had missed out on the best part of the journey.  And when I told them what I could expect on the long road home, they wondered why anyone in their right mind would put themselves through such an ordeal.    It felt rejuvenating to be independent, but I was jealous as hell of their comfort. ​

There’s no right way to apply ketchup to your fries,  scratch an itch, or smile at a stranger.  While we can always and should learn from the advice of others, there’s also no right way to see the world. ​

I first visited the city 2005, and fell in love with it.  Unlike the congested, polluted mess that is Bangkok, Chiang Mai was friendly, peaceful and calm, beaming with golden temples, cheap eats, and guesthouses.   I returned a few years later to film an episode of Word Travels, and always thought:  “If I had to live anywhere in Asia for a while, this would be the place.”    With my family and Amy, our own travelling Mary Poppins-assistant in tow, we found a semi-detached house outside of the Old Town on Air Bnb, and prepared to settle into the neighbourhood.  The Thai – at least those outside of heavy tourist zones -  are just unbelievably, remarkably, authentically warm and gentle people.  They love children.   They smile a lot.  They are 95% Buddhist.   We weren’t off the plane for five minutes and felt reassured by the welcoming nature of the culture. .  Our house was at the end of a soi, an alley, off a busy road.  Everything was so different, so anything-goes, so jarring, so unlike Australia. ​ Like most Thai houses, ours didn’t have much of a kitchen (a gas burner, a fridge, some basic cutlery and utensils). Like most Thai houses, we wouldn’t be able to flush toilet paper down the toilet.   The beds were rock hard, the furniture basic, the shower pressure almost non-existent.    A rooster crowed directly across from us all through the night (more on the rooster later).  There was blessed air conditioning in the bedrooms, and just a fan downstairs.  Mosquitoes and flies patrolled the windows and the wonky screen door.   Inside the place was clean, but a little rough around the edges, softened each Monday when the cleaner would come and leave it spotless.   When we arrived, my wife looked at me like I was a madman for bringing us here.   But at least we wouldn’t have to unpack after a few days, and at least we didn’t have anything in particular to do.  We could just be. ​

Getting around was affordable and easy, something we really only appreciated when we arrived in Bangkok, where getting around was difficult and comparatively expensive.  Mobike, Chiang Mai’s public bicycle system, allowed us to rent bikes with handy baskets in the front, seemingly perfectly designed for the kids to sit up front.   Solar powered and blue-tooth operated through a phone app, the bikes could be left anywhere, so we basically just “borrowed” a few to use and permanently kept them outside our heavy sliding green gate.  It cost 10 baht (about 50c) for a half hour, although I got a 200 baht ($10) unlimited use for 90 days pass.   My fondest memories of Chiang Mai are riding the streets with Raquel or Gali in the basket, stopping at temples, waving to locals.   Chiang Mai is mostly flat, and the Mobikes – at least the orange ones we used and not the wonky silver ones – were super comfortable.    We never saw any other kids in the baskets, and neither had anyone else, which is why Gali and Raquel were instant rock stars on the Mobikes.    Smiles and laughs and waves came from every direction.   For further distances,  Grab Taxis is the local Uber, and they eliminated the constant haggle and rip off with tuk tuk drivers and taxi drivers.   The fare was always fair, and the drivers gave us no nonsense.   What a game changer!  We took a few tuk tuks, more for the experience, but between the Mobikes and Grab, we could get around wherever we needed to go.  On the last week, I hired a scooter, which was super fun, even if we had to wear a helmet primarily to avoid the bribes we’d have to pay at roadblocks (only foreigners get stopped if they don’t have a helmet).   Our underpowered bike didn’t make it up every hill, but we had a fun day lunching by a river, feeling the jungle breeze, and braking for elephants.   Raquel only fell asleep twice, on the scooter, in heavy traffic.  Raquel and I took a bigger bike for a 90-minute ride to the beautiful Sticky Waterfalls.  It was quite the adventure I hope she somehow remembers, racing 100 km/hr through the jungles of Northern Thailand, seated between my legs.   ​

“Hi-low Lay-dees!”  The local Thai ladies were besotted with the kids, especially Gali.   We never got their names and would not be able to remember or pronounce them if we did, so we just called them “the ladies.”  On our street, upstairs in an old wooden house was an old lady always sewing.  She always smiled and waved, and raced downstairs one day to give the kids handmade Thai clothes.   We printed out a picture of her and the kids to say thanks. When we said goodbye, she gave the kids teary hugs and some wooden Buddhas.    On our corner was the “chicken fried rice ladies”, working in their gritty local eatery a tourist wouldn’t go near.  We must have waved and greeted to them at least six times a day.  They made us the fine and tasty chicken fried rice that we ate a couple times a week.  Then there was the Thai Ice Tea lady, although we all had our favourite Thai tea lady.   The Plastic Lady, who provided us with plastic bins and knick knacks and spoke some English.  The Pad Thai ladies, another place tourists wouldn’t blink at but made a great 30 baht ($1.50) pad thai.    The Market Ladies, the Fruit Lady, the Temple Lady (above) who always cried when she saw the kids, the Pancake Lady, the Ice Cream Lady.   ​We did cook at home a fair amount and realized how much we miss an oven when we don’t have one.   We made do with pasta and deep friend chicken and eggs and toast in the morning, although usually had to watch out for the geckos jumping out of the toaster.   My wife took a Thai cooking class and came home to make a fantastic Tom Yum soup.   It was often more expensive to buy the ingredients than just grab a pad thai.   Without eating pork or stinky fish, it says much about Thai cooking that we ate chicken/rice/noodles in some configuration for 6 weeks without getting tired of it.   There was a local vegetable market  - more friendly ladies - around the corner, along with a Tesco Express and 7-11 (a mini supermarket),  and it all amounted to a situation that became dependably convenient – something we again only appreciated when we left Chiang Mai. ​

Although we tried hard not to be tourists, of course we did a few touristy things.  Art in Paradise is an interactive art museum that blew us away, putting us in the picture with dinosaurs and masterpieces.  The kids loved the Elephant Poo Poo Park, where dung is sustainably converted into paper (it's a lot more interesting than it sounds, and in case you're wondering, doesn't smell at all).  We visited a massive waterpark called Tube Trek, the Saturday Night Market, which was so much better than the overcrowded Sunday Night Market.  The Ginger Farm, where Gali fell into a muddy trench.  He had more luck at the Buak Hard Public Park, which had the only decent playground we could find. Of course there were all the amazing temples, and we had a beautiful moment with an elephant on the road without visiting an expensive and dubiously elephant park.   We made friends with wonderful locals and expats (and their kids), celebrated birthdays.  Along with the rest of the world, we anxiously watched the dramatic rescue of the schoolboys from a cave located a few hours drive away.  We joined hundred of Israelis every Friday night for a Chabad feast, and enjoyed the spectacle of the FIFA World Cup in Russia, washed down with tall bottles of cold Singha beer.  ​

Next door was a Burmese family who prepared rounded fish balls over burning charcoal, the smell of which reliably wafted through the windows each afternoon.   Each night, and often during the day, the loud roosters would get started.  If they didn’t keep us awake, they invaded our dreams.  We spent long nights lying in semi-sleep thinking about how much we’d love to kill those damn birds.   I suppose it was revenge for the sheer amount of chicken we ate every day.  ​

The smell of the camphor/citronella mosquito spray.  The ants that would snake from the ceiling to the garbage bin in the kitchen.   The kids writing with chalk on the patio outside before the daily late afternoon tropical rain would wash their scribbles away.    Amy’s ongoing saga with the dodgy dentists of Chiang Mai.   The manual washing machine we didn’t use in the back, and the communal washing machines we did down the road.   The modern malls and dragon fruit.  The homemade ice-lollies with the plastic we bought from the Plastic Lady. To say nothing of Chiang Mai itself, with its bustling markets, and shiny golden Buddhist temples, orange robed monks, crazy traffic, and pungent fish-sauce fragrances.  The kids couldn’t enjoy our $15 hour-long massages in the dark but innocent backrooms off the strip next to the Doo Dee Bar, but they sure chomped down the surprisingly good biltong we managed to find, made by a Dutchman, and delivered to our front gate.  ​

We hope Chiang Mai is only the beginning of the amazing experiences to come in Bali and Vietnam (and a side trip to Singapore to see our old dear friends), as opposed to the pinnacle of our Asian adventure.    Because if I reminisce about it so fondly after being away from the city for less than a week,  memory will likely grow positively and brighter as the months and years pass.  My family spent 6 weeks in Thailand.  Not travelled in, but lived.   It was a culture shock, it was full of big challenges, unforgettable and wonderful moments, lovely people, and everything we hoped it would be.  Next up:  Bali. ​