The mountains overlooking Vancouver have several rockstars. There are the three ski resorts, the gondolas of Grouse, and the choppy crest of Crown.  Perhaps the most distinctive peaks are The Lions, named in the 1880s because they resemble two sleeping lions (and because nobody back then deferred to Indigenous names).   The East and West Lion peaks (reaching 5269ft and 5400ft respectively) inspired the BC Lions football team, Lions Gate Bridge, Lions Gate Hospital, and Lions Gate Entertainment.  They also inspire ambitious hikers to brave a knee-punishing ascent with a memorable day-hike or overnight trek, complete with a challenging summit free climb.  I am not an ambitious hiker, but conquering the Lions has been on my bucket list for years.   This year, all my excuses finally ran out.
 
Before we get to the hike, it’s important to recognize that these are not Lions at all, they’re actually twin sisters.  According to the Squamish people, the Twin Sisters are markers of peace between the Squamish and Haida, formed by the Creator to honour a treaty, or as a result of twin Squamish sisters captured by a Haida raiding party.   Dismissing Indigenous legends and name places to honour colonial heroes and symbols has fortunately run its course,  so this blog post would like to acknowledge that it takes place on the unceeded territory of the Squamish people, and is grateful for the opportunity to visit the hallowed peaks that mean so much more than a great view and a hiking adventure.  I’ll call them Lions moving forward, but continue to pay my respects to the Twin Sisters and their cultural legacy.

​There are two ways to hike the Lions.  Park at Cypress Mountain Ski Resort and hike up and across the mountains, or park in Lions Bay and hike up… and up…and up.  The Cypress route adds a few kilometres and requires some parking and driving coordination, especially if you’re descending on a one-way route through Lions Bay. The Lions Bay route requires a lucky parking spot in the few public spots available at the trail head, or get ready to add some asphalt road ascent to your journey.   Be on the lookout for unimpressed NIMBY Lions Head neighbours who don’t appreciate hikers visiting their secluded mountain community.   At least they didn’t seem to appreciate me, perhaps because I had arranged a parking pass and my Kia brought down property values for a day.  Signs at the trail head to West Lion make no mistake what’s in store:  Difficulty: Strenuous.  Only be attempted by properly equipped and experienced hikers. The sign states it is 15km round-trip to the summit, with a hefty 1525m elevation gain. It suggests you budget an ambitious 7 to 8 hours.  There are also bears in the area, along with cougars, bobcats, coyotes, lynx and even snakes (although the local snakes are harmless).   As I started up the trail, encountering any wildlife would instantly become the least of my concern.
 
Up we go.  And up. And up. And up further still.  Ah, what’s this?  A flat section!   Through fairy beds of green moss and lush tree tunnels, beautiful, I needed that welcome breather, and…. nope, it’s up again. And up, up, and up further still.  Poles are essential, as are frequent water breaks (I slugged through 2.5 litres of water on my hike, and I don’t drink that much).  Loose rocks are waiting to roll your ankle, and slippery roots waiting to trip you up.  We cross a bridge over a fetching cascade, which invites a cool dip in the rock pools, but there’s no time to dally.  It’s an unseasonal warm and dry October, which means a lovely cool temperature and few bugs, but also shorter days.   We were on the trail by 7:45am.  The parking lot, incidentally, was already full.     
 
The West Lions is a popular hike, and everyone I passed seemed in better physical and mental shape to do it.  A group of bro’s (shirtless, tanned, bleached hair, ripped, backward baseball caps) were already on their descent. These are BC’s hiking equivalent to California’s surfing dudes.  I encounter groups and couples, and a quick-footed solo teenage boy with parents that should be proud and worried.  Up and up, over and up, until almost 4 hours in, we crest at a viewpoint and finally see the mighty Lions up close.  Solid rock (hornblende diorite for you geologists), the two peaks are more imposing and intimidating when you stand beneath them, casting a shadow into the valley below.  As we continue our ascent, the rocks become bigger and more challenging, remnants of several millennia of rockslides.  Tears are flowing from my knees, and I’m cursing the weight of snacks I thought I’d need in my daypack.  Finally,  we reach a large outcrop where most sane people stop to enjoy the incredible 360-view of the Lions, the Howe Sound, and on a clear day, Vancouver far below.  Most sane people will reach this point, say they’ve hiked the West Lion, and call it a day.   The rest of us might continue on the 29-kilometre Howe Sound Crest Trail from Cypress Mountain to Porteau Cove, or decide it’s worth the risky free-climb up the rock to the West Lion summit.   Cramping legs, blistered ankles, heavy breathing, no fitness whatsoever…of course I’m going for the top. 

Other than one handy rope to assist with a 5 metre drop at the start, there are no chain ladders or ropes.  I had to navigate up and over sheer rock face, balancing on narrow ledges while desperately searching for rock holds, doing my best not to think about the 30m – 50m plummet below.  Some hikers brought helmets and climbing shoes. I had a flask of rum.  Remember:  three points of contact!   It’s been a while since a physical challenge intersected so concisely with my mental fear, and several times I paused to breathe, stay calm, and recollect myself in that special place we all visit sometimes.   It doesn’t take very long to get to the summit, but after a challenging 5-hour ascent, it’s tough as hell.  My thighs cramped up just in time to collapse in a heap by the West Lion’s rock cairn, the only sign that you are indeed, as high as you can go. Oh, and the sweeping, spectacular view that surrounds you.  It’s almost enough to make me forget that I now have to scale down the dangerous rock, and then hike down a trail so steep it could snap a shock absorber. 
 
A few Band-aids, a swig of rum, some yummy sandwiches, painkillers, candy and nuts, and we’re on our way down.  It’s always much quicker hiking down than up, but it’s also hell on your knees and tricky for your ankles.  Yet with fine company, fine weather, and the intangible joy that accompanies any sense of accomplishment, we slowly made our way down to Lions Bay.  You do not want to descend this trail in the dark, but we timed it perfectly, arriving at the parking lot at 5:45pm.  With plenty of breaks and time to enjoy the views (and factoring the state of my fitness), it was a very long, 10-hour hike, and the second most challenging hike of my life (here’s looking at you West Coast Trail).
 
It took a few days for me to stop walking like a stepped-on spider, and yes, it definitely would have helped to have prepared with more than just a few games of pickleball.   There’s plenty of reviews of the West Lion hike on various hiking sites, and yes, I can confirm the last scramble is as challenging as everyone says it is.  Unless you’re that ten-year old girl who passed us on the way down, carrying her stuffy Snow Leopard.   

As I lay in bed that night groaning with stiffness, my wife asked me why on earth anybody would ever want to do this to themselves?  My reply was simple: “Every time I see those Lions, I can think ‘I’ve been to the top of that!’  It’s a personal accomplishment that just keeps on giving.”  

Special thanks to Jon, Revelie, Mike and Stephanie.  

Canadians know that any country sitting in the shadow of a more popular neighbour is often overlooked.   Spare a thought for Slovenia, that small nation in Central Europe within sight – quite literally – of Italy, Austria, Hungary and Croatia.  While international visitors to Europe might beeline to nearby Venice or Milan, Salzburg, Budapest or even Zagreb, many would be hard pressed to locate Ljubljana on the map, much less be able to pronounce it.  Slovenia lacks the attention of its more famous neighbours, but discovering its historical capital, frosted peaks, glimmering lakes and lush countryside, it’s clear this modest nation can compete with all of them.   

With its central location and abundant natural beauty, Slovenia was considered a prize territory for the conquering armies of Rome, Austria-Hungary, Croatia, Germany, Serbia, Italy, and finally, the Communists who incorporated it into Yugoslavia. Claiming its independence with an impressive lack of political turmoil in 1991, Slovenia officially joined the European Union in 2004, adopting the euro but keeping its identity intact.  The nation of two million people has quietly got on with the business of becoming one of the most prosperous, stable, and successful of all the post-Soviet states.  It frequently ranks among Europe’s best economies, scores big in lifestyle indexes, and it really wants you to not confuse it with Slovakia, a different (and take it from me, less impressive) country altogether.

​As I wander the streets and canals of old Ljubljana (say it with me: Yoo-bli-yana), I’m reminded of Copenhagen, Stockholm and Budapest.  Yet Ljubljana feels cleaner and more civilized than those capitals, immaculately maintained with arty cafes, old world architecture, copper Church steeples, ample bike lanes and manicured parks.  Locals roam about, stylishly dressed in that casual, modern European manner of looking fantastic without much effort.  I take care not to trip on the city’s polished cobblestone for fear of cutting myself on those striking Slavic cheekbones.  Students bike across the Games of Thrones-ish Dragon Bridge and distinctive Triple Bridge, the public art is impressive, and even the urban graffiti is tasteful. Overlooked by the 900-year-old Ljubljana Castle, the capital is a template for any great European capital, with half the tourists. 
 
I expect to find more visitor’s at Slovenia’s premier tourist attraction, historic Lake Bled.  Sitting at the foothills of the towering Julian Alps, you might have seen images of the lake on screensavers or Instagram or any platform hoping to illicit a ‘wow, where the hell is that?’ response.  It had taken me less than an hour to drive the smooth highway from Ljubljana, and ‘WOW’ got cap-locked when Lake Bled came into view.  Framed by mountains and thick forest, the placid, emerald-coloured water has a small island in the centre with a notable European landmark.  The gothic Church of Mary the Queen was first consecrated in the twelfth century, and restored to its current state in the seventeenth century.  “Europe,” as Eddie Izzard remarks, “where History comes from.”  Long before the island became a site of Christian pilgrimage, it was a cult centre for Slavs to worship the Goddess of Love and Fertility.  Fittingly, couples flock from around Europe for destination weddings in one of several grand lakeside hotels, the remains of former royal palaces. Tradition holds that grooms must carry their bride up ninety-nine steps to the chapel, and ring the famous bell three times for good luck.  Judging by the strain I see on the flummoxed faces of several men, carrying anyone up ninety-nine steep steps and then ringing a heavy bell is more difficult than it appears.  The rest of us will just fall in love with the warm, azure water, four-hundred-year-old rowboat transportation (called pletnas), lovely ambiance and a location so striking you’d think it had been airbrushed onto the cover of a romance novel.  

​Visitors to Slovenia often complain they should have allotted more time.  More time to explore the notably affordable all-season mountain resorts.  More time to hike, fish, bike, raft, and enjoy the country’s abundant outdoor splendor.   More time to visit Lipica, the ‘cradle of the race’ of the unicorn-white Lipizzaner horse that have dazzled dressage events for centuries.  More time for show caves, the world’s deepest underground canyon, the robber-thief Predjama Castle, or visits to old churches and abbeys.    The country is compact and easy to get around, English is widely spoken, and the local cuisine draws heavily on the best traditions of its neighbours:  outstanding beer influenced by Hungary; pizza, gelato and coffee by Italy; schnitzels and pastries by Austria.  
 
Yes, we know all about living in the rain shadow of a more famous country that soaks up the world’s attention.  This is why Canadians will particularly appreciate that quiet, overlooked and underrated Slovenia might just be the most enticing country in all of Europe – east, west,  and otherwise.  

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! 

​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.
 

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

Some key lines to share: 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

​You know what this pandemic needed?  A full-blown attack on a sovereign state in Europe by an unhinged autocrat in charge of the world’s largest nuke stockpile threatening global Armageddon on anyone who stands in his imperialist way.   Vladimir Putin picked a fight with a stoic, proud nation led by a former comic-actor also named Vladimir (Volodymyr Zelensky) who once played the president of Ukraine in a popular TV show and then actually became the president of Ukraine.   Zelensky also happens to be the grandson of a former Russian soldier and Holocaust survivor.  The name Vladimir means both ‘Ruler of the World’ and ‘Ruler of Peace’ as well as one ‘Blessed of Great or Famous Power’.   Historians in the future are going to have a challenge getting this all down, especially if they’re scraping their work with flint stones on cave walls.    Quite fittingly, another Vladimir once said this:

​Caught up in a week where decades are happening, and a few tough years that have lasted a century, it’s completely acceptable to be cowering in despair, doom-scrolling news of bombings, disease, economic collapse, refugees, and political chaos.  Yet here I am, giving presentations and writing posts and stories about how TRAVEL IS BACK and WHERE TO PLAN YOUR NEXT ADVENTURE!   Off mark?  Insensitive?  Blind to reality?   Or perhaps, on point, acutely aware, and unwaveringly optimistic?  

I once had lunch (burger, fries, Pilsner) with my literary hero Tom Robbins.  Well into his 80s,  Tom’s edgy wit could still carve the fuzz off a caterpillar.  I asked him about the disasters happening in the world at the time:  climate change, the rise of Donald Trump.  He’d been around, he’d seen it all before, what advice could he give us nail-biters watching the modern world collapse in on itself.  Tom quoted REM:​

​Do I deplore the war in Ukraine?  Having travelled in the country, met its people, and witnessed first-hand the horrors of nuclear disaster, trust me, I’m as shocked and rattled as anyone.  Does the impending climate cataclysm, along with the general helplessness I feel in the face of pandemic, great game geo-politics and the military-industrial complex freak me out to my core?  How could it not?  It could well be the end of the world, and there’s only two rational responses to it:  sink into a pit of gloom, depression, frustration, anxiety, and misery.  Or take a breath, appreciate your personal opportunities, and make a conscious decision – however much it pains you - to FEEL FINE.

Last weekend I visited the Outdoor Travel and Adventure Show at the Vancouver Convention Centre.  The sheer number of people, and the quality of exhibitors left nobody in doubt that we’re on the cusp of an unprecedented travel boom.   Everyone is looking forward to a holiday, an adventure, an escape hatch.  On display were kits that turned cars into camper vans, small-ship expeditions to the poles, electric bikes and stand-up paddle-boards, African safaris, houseboats and campsites, outdoor gear and a contraption called a jet-board that looked like an awful lot of fun. Damn it felt good to be among my people (as opposed to Sneaker Con in the other convention hall, where spoiled kids in flashy shoes made as much sense to me as challenging the sun to a stare down).  To each their own, unless your Vladimir Putin, in which case:  Stop this senseless violence you war-mongering, delusional lunatic.   Sorry, that just slipped out.

​We must focus on the positive.  We have to look up so we don’t sink down.  What other choice do we have?  We certainly can’t stop a madman in Russia any more than we can stop a tornado by standing in its path.   We can only do what we can, do what’s right, and continue to spend our months, days and hours focusing on inspiration, positivity, love, joy and gratitude.   Which is exactly what I intend to do this month on my first international trip in over two years, ticking off an item that’s long been on my bucket list.  With the hope that Vladimir/Volodymyr fulfills their moniker as the Ruler of Peace (and not the Destroyer of Worlds), I look forward to reporting on that experience next month.

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.