Day on the Road

I don't usually plan my activities to the last second before setting off on a trip.  I find that it's too easy to get messed up by the weather, or a change of mood, or a late sleep-in.

Of course there are exceptions: that hit show that you have to get tickets for, or something like the "London Eye" which in peak season can be booked solid a week ahead or more.  But generally, I like to go on impulse.  Today was a perfect example.

Yesterday, we had the cold front and the rain.  The forecast then said that we could expect 3-4 solid days of mixed sun and showers.  So I wasn't sure what form today might take.  But when I woke up this morning to a cloudless blue sky, I made a sudden impulsive decision to take the car and go for a drive along the coastal highway east of Brighton -- to Dover.

On a map, it doesn't look far.  But this is the United Kingdom, and when you leave the "motorways" (freeways) you slow right down.  Roads are narrow, twist and turn a great deal and work their way through towns and villages with many a zigzag.  As if that weren't enough, there's all that pesky scenery that keeps tempting you to stop and admire the view, go for a walk on a trail, take pictures, etc.  Net result: it took me over 5 hours to get there!  (Return trip was faster, 1 hour 30 minutes by motorway!).

Next piece of advice: when making this kind of scenic drive, make sure you are well-stocked with British coins.  These coastal communities have all discovered the joys of the pay-and-display car park, and the machines mostly accept only coins.  That skewered my chances of one particularly scenic stop, because I knew I would be away from the car for a good half hour and I could see the watchman roaming the lot, checking for tickets displayed on dashboards.  Damn.

The end of the drive, Dover, is famous for its white cliffs, but in fact you only have to go a few miles east of Brighton to begin sighting white cliffs because the whole region is underlain by massive deposits of chalk and similar materials.

I stopped at Eastbourne, to go for a walk along the seafront.  Eastbourne looks exactly like a more genteel version of Brighton, with many more elderly people sauntering or sitting in the sun.  It always comes as a shock to first-time visitors to find such near-tropical vegetation as palmettos growing in England.  But the climate is kept temperate every year by the strong influence of the warm Gulf Stream, and such plants are even grown in sheltered locations well up north in Scotland!

Just to the west of Eastbourne is Beachy Head, a prominent projecting point of chalk cliffs.  Although I did drive up there, that's where I had to forego the scenic hike due to the car-park problem.

Driving on eastwards, I came to the small village of Pevensey, which looks exactly like what a small English village ought to look like!  Here I stopped to pay a visit to an ancient Norman ruin, Pevensey Castle.  Like many of its kind, only the outer walls remain and you have to use a good deal of imagination to try to see what the complete structure was like in its day.

Up to this point there's been a lot of climbing up and down by the road, but now you pass through large flat areas of marshland adapted for farming.  Along the way you pass through several towns that were once important commercial harbours but are now cut off from the sea (or nearly so) by the silting actions of the marshland rivers.  These include Rye and Winchelsea.  But then as you carry on the hills are suddenly there again and you have to climb up and down some hefty ones to arrive first at Folkestone, the site of the Channel Tunnel terminal, and then Dover.

And here you come to Dover Castle, another Norman structure which dates in large part to the time of King Henry II.  Indeed there are two even older buildings within the walls: a Saxon church and the shell of a Roman pharos or lighthouse, one of two that guarded Dover.  The very un-Roman pointed arches are explained by the fact that the tower was later adapted into a bell tower for the church,  With that information, it's easy to see that the pointed arches were inserted into the older stonework.

At first glance you might think the castle is in extraordinarily good repair -- until you read a signboard which tells you that it housed an active military garrison as recently as the 1950s!  Then the good condition of the castle makes sense, as does the large number of buildings plainly dating from the 19th century within the walls.

For Dover Castle is huge.  It consisted of three concentric rings of complete walls, with buildings in each of the outer and middle courts or "wards", and the massive King Henry Tower in the innermost court.  I spent a good hour walking all over the place and feel that I only scratched the surface of all there is to see and do here.  This picture shows only the inner courtyard walls and the square Tower looming within them.

The value of the Castle even to modern warfare becomes obvious when you go to the lookout point at the southern end and scan the view -- especially on such a crystal-clear day as today.  Of course the Castle Hill commands the entire harbour and beach at Dover, and all its approaches.  This is a splendid place to watch the ferries coming and going to and from France and Belgium -- and in spite of the Channel Tunnel there is still plenty of business for the ferries to pick up!

If you look closely at the right edge of the second picture, you can actually see the French coast in the distance, between Calais and Boulogne, at Cap Gris Nez.  Modern land-based artillery mounted on such high ground are perfectly capable of sweeping the entire width of the English Channel at this, its narrowest point, with murderous heavy gunfire.  It's no wonder that the English Channel has traditionally been referred to as Britain's "Moat" -- the image makes perfect sense!

A little farther to the left (east of the Castle) you get one splendid view of the famous White Cliffs of Dover.

Unfortunately, my experience was the same as that of the several family members who were here a couple of months ago.  I saw no bluebirds.

The Quintessential Seaside Resort

Well, after a couple of days of sitting around, hiking through airports, heaving baggage hither and yon, and working up a sweat in unseasonably warm weather, I have arrived at the first main stop of my trip in England.  Originally a tiny fishing village known as Brighthelmstone, it was discovered by the fashionable world (and especially by the Prince Regent) during the period known as the Regency (between 1811 and 1820).  Of course, today the name is shortened down to the considerably easier form of "Brighton".

Only in England would you find such quintessential sights as a seafront vendor selling whelks, a pleasure pier complete with an amusement park at the end, a giant Ferris wheel rubbing shoulders with a rally for Volkswagen vans, and a royal palace covered with Indian domes.

Start with the palace: the Royal Pavilion.  This was the Prince Regent's fantasy of a getaway from the rigours of his duties in London.  It was begun in 1787, on a small scale, and then rebuilt on a much larger scale in the 1820s.  The architecture is a fantastic take on the architecture popular in India during that time.  The interiors are a mixture of Indian and Chinese styles.  The Pavilion is notable for the lightness and airy feelings of its interiors, compared to many European royal palaces where the decor is ponderous and overwhelming.

The Pavilion is surrounded by gardens which have been extensively recreated according to the style and taste of Regency times, and with the same species of plants and shrubs that were used for the original owner.

Leaving the Pavilion, you walk south through a district known as The Lanes.  It's an area of narrow twisting alleyways, now lined with unusual boutiques and restaurants.  It's easy to see from the look of the buildings that this area was built up before the invention of urban planning!

It only takes about two minutes before you arrive at the sea front.  Brighton has long been renowned as a beach resort, but it may come as a shock to some visitors when they realize that the only sand is on the beach volleyball court!  The beach itself is a gigantic heap of rounded stones, making a distinctive crunching sound whenever you walk on them.  Sticking out into the turbulent waters of the English Channel is the Brighton Pier, most famous of all the pleasure piers of Britain's seaside resort towns.  Yes, that really is an amusement park with a roller coaster at the seaward end of the pier!

A short distance to the west you see standing in the water the skeletal remains of the West Pier which was destroyed by fire some years ago, after having stood empty for decades.  Old photographs show that the West Pier in its heyday exhibited the very height of Victorian decorative excess.  A cleaner, less elaborate style can be seen on the facade of the nearby Grand Hotel, one of many heritage buildings standing along the waterfront here.

The entire length of the waterfront is lined with multiple levels of pedestrian walking areas according to the height of the shoreline at any given point.  There's also a bicycle path and roadways for cars.  Right near the Pier is the Ferris wheel, which gives a good view of the city and ocean.

In this photo you can see the parking area a little way beyond already well-filled with Volkswagen vans, with more arriving.  I don't know what the event was, but assume it was some kind of rally for owners of these now-classic vehicles!

I covered a fair bit of ground this morning before the sky clouded right over and the rain moved in.  Over the next couple of days, I'll be using Brighton as a base for some side trips around the south coast region of England.

Crossing the Big Pond

Time for a new post here.  I'm off on a new trip, and the only hint I'm giving you is that I'm heading east across the Atlantic!  More details later.

I want to start with a helpful hint for those who belong to Aeroplan.  Earn points any way you can, but save them until you have enough for a long flight.  Then go Business Class.  Here's why.

Few people I know ever fly on a full fare economy class ticket.  But if you look at the prices on a website, you'll soon see that a full fare economy (Y) class ticket costs only about 20% less than a full fare Business Class ticket.  Well, guess what -- the points table works the same way.  So my take on it is that you definitely would rather fly Business Class on a long-haul flight when you're going to be in the air for 6 hours or more.  That's when the extra elbow room, leg room, privacy and service really come in handy.  If you only need 20% more points for a Business Class reward ticket, there's no reason not to keep saving that bit longer!

The gimmick in this is that you have to be able to lock yourself in way ahead of time because lots of other people have figured this out too.  I usually reserve a long-haul Business Class reward ticket almost a year ahead of time, as soon as seats are available.  Business Class free seats go fast on popular overseas routes.  And I planned this trip on short notice, which is why I am flying Y-class on a paid ticket this time.

Enter the other trick.  For a fee which varies depending on length of flight, you can reserve a premium economy seat with extra legroom.  On the aircraft I'm flying on, I actually booked a seat in an exit row.  Because the exits on a Boeing 777 are full-sized doors, the row of seats ahead has been left out altogether.  Talk about extra legroom -- even in Business Class there wouldn't be that much space in front of me!

One of the curses of long-distance travel going east or west is jetlag.  I find the effects of jetlag are greatly multiplied if I can't sleep on the plane (and usually I can't, for whatever reason).  So here's the next secret: take a daylight flight.  Due to the time difference of 5-8 hours (depending on destination) it makes much more sense to have the aircraft airborne through the night on the eastbound leg, and returning west in daylight.  But every morning, a few flights leave eastern North America in the morning, arriving in a European destination in the mid to late evening.  And that's how I do it.  I get the time switch over with, get into my hotel, get a late snack and a drink or two in the bar and go to bed about 2:00 am European time.  Wake up about 6 hours later, and I'm fully in sync and ready to go.  A nap later that day and I'm completely set.  When I do the more common red-eye, the jetlag can easily last three or four days!

The bad news is that I always find the jetlag harder to work through on the westbound leg of a trip.  But it's definitely too soon to be worrying about that problem!

A Curious Pair of Ears

Third and last post about my short trip to Vancouver concerns a trip to a nearby provincial park which goes by the rather odd name of "Golden Ears".

The name derives from the twin peaks of a mountain in the park, which from the south are said to resemble a pair of ears sticking up.  The name has also been borrowed by the toll bridge across the Fraser River to the south.

I went to Golden Ears once before, but on a cold, cloudy fall day when there wasn't much to see.  This time it was a sunny, hazy, hot summer day, and the park was busy even though it was midweek.

You need a lot of patience and persistence to get to Golden Ears Park.  It's reached by way of some narrow country roads on the outskirts of Maple Ridge, and signage isn't great.  Fortunately, a new road called "Golden Ears Way" leads you from the bridge right around most of Maple Ridge and then you only need to make two more turns to get to the destination.

The road into the park makes a steady climb up into the mountains before descending into the Alouette Valley.  It's a well-laid-out parkway without any sharp curves or sudden steep grades -- and without shoulders.  Caution required, as it's popular with cyclists!

The main facilities of the park are concentrated along the west shore of Alouette Lake, which is a large power reservoir.  There's a sizable day-use area with large parking lots, picnic tables, a boat launch, a broad gravelly beach, and a marked swimming area.

Farther north along the shore there are campgrounds with their own waterfront access.  This  valley represents a very small percentage of the total size of the park.  Most of the area of the park has been left as wilderness.  The forests are threaded by hiking trails, including mountain trails for those with the urge to climb!

After paying the sizable day-use fees at national parks, and at provincial parks in my home turf of Ontario, it comes as a positive surprise that there is no charge for use of the day area here!

And as if that isn't enough, there's the spectacular scenery of this alpine valley to add to the impact of this special beauty spot!  Even after the hot summer that British Columbia has had this year, there's still snow on some of the peaks beyond the north end of the lake.

Starting from downtown Vancouver, the drive to Golden Ears will take about 1.5-2 hours depending on the time of day and the traffic, but it's definitely worth the effort!

A Park Like No Other

I know I promised to go off the main tourist track, but there's a time for everything.  Visiting (or writing about) Vancouver without including Stanley Park would be a bit like visiting Switzerland without seeing the Alps -- pointless, and it just isn't done!

The land that we now know as Stanley Park was dedicated to that purpose by the city council of the infant city of Vancouver in 1886, and opened in September of 1888.  It's a 400-hectare tract of giant west coast forest trees, interspersed with some monuments and areas of flower gardens.  It forms a rocky peninsula stretching out from the west end of downtown Vancouver and pointing towards the north shore of Burrard Inlet.  Across the First Narrows at the tip of the park stretches the elegant Lion's Gate Bridge, the first vehicle connection between Vancouver and North Vancouver across the Inlet.  Around the entire perimeter of the Park runs the Seawall, which carries a dual paved roadway with one side reserved for cyclists and rollerbladers, and the other side reserved for pedestrians.

The density of the forests makes Stanley Park seem even bigger than it actually is.  From many places in the Park it is impossible to see any of the major city that sits right next door.  The forests are threaded by numerous walking trails, and using these is a delightful way to get up close and personal with the majestic giants of the west coast rainforest.

The park has two major beaches, and a large outdoor seasonal swimming pool beside Second Beach (and I do mean large).  There is no spot close by from which the pool can be readily photographed, but I'll toss in a picture of the similar big pool at Kitsilano, a few kilometres away, just to give the idea.

Either of these pools is a must-visit in the summer for anyone who loves serious swimming, or just messing about in the water.

Stanley Park also has tennis courts, an aquarium, a tea house, a seafood restaurant, and numerous other attractions.  But for me the biggest attraction is always the scenery.  As you go around the Seawall, you get in succession:

[1] a splendid view of Vancouver's bustling downtown and harbour.

[2] the view of the Lion's Gate Bridge from Prospect Point with, if your timing is right, a huge cruise ship sailing underneath it!  (I did not get lucky this trip!)

[3] the mountain-crowned suburbs of North Vancouver and West Vancouver.

[4] the view from Third Beach of freighters at anchor in English Bay outside the harbour.

and finally the English Bay Beach stretching away along the western waterfront of the city's West End residential district.  As far as I am concerned, Stanley Park sums up Vancouver to perfection!

Lotus Land Revisited

Hello, everyone!

Long time no post.  I have been running around at top speed for most of the last 2 months, travelling hither and yon to all kinds of events and shows, but not really generating any good material for this blog.

But now, I am back on Vancouver for the first time in almost 3 years, and it's time to blog again.  I came here for the first time in 1972 as a teenager, and have been back too many times to count.  It's one of my favourite places in Canada to visit, largely because the mountains are "right there", just on the north side of Burrard Inlet (the harbour).

I've done a lot of the standard tourist things over the years, and will do some again on this visit.  But, with the help and advice of a couple of friends, I'm going to get into some different spots too.

 I flew in two days ago in the morning, and so had a good bit of exploring time the same day.  Around noon I drove down to Steveston historic village on the south channel of the Fraser River.  This is about a 35-40 minute drive from downtown (if the traffic cooperates).  Some people would say that going down to Steveston on a Sunday is a miscalculated risk.  It's a favourite brunching and shopping spot for locals, and the numerous waterfront restaurants are all well-filled.  The real trick is finding a parking spot.  The small lots near the dead centre of the village shopping street are all packed early on.  I wound up somewhat to the west, at the old Cannery musuem and historic site.

Steveston was a major centre of salmon canning back in the day, and is still an active fishing port as well as a sizable marina port for pleasure boat owners.  The Cannery remembers the days when dirty, smelly salmon canneries operated in numerous ports in British Columbia.  A monument outside memorializes the thousands of men, women, and children who flooded into Steveston every year during the canning season.

Nowadays, the "village" includes a sizable number of modern condos and townhouses.  I've been told it's a nice retirement spot.  There are a lot of artsy-craftsy-boutiquey type stores.  I don't go in for that sort of thing much, so can't comment on how reasonable the prices are (or otherwise).

I did enjoy a good stroll along the waterfront boardwalk in the brilliant sunshine, watching fishermen selling their catch directly from their boats.

Also had a delightful lunch at the Blue Canoe on the spacious waterfront patio.  Crab cakes and a romaine-apple-avocado salad seemed to hit the spot perfectly for such a great summer day!

After lunch I drove into town to check into my hotel, the Holiday Inn Downtown on Howe Street.  Word to the wise: there is no such thing as a cheap hotel in Vancouver during the summer.  Even fairly basic accommodations can run to over $150/night during July and August, and the more deluxe choices can easily go in excess of $300!  But this hotel managed a decent rate (by those standards) and has some nicely-renovated rooms, with thoughtful additional touches.  The main lobby elevators are positively tiny (as in 2 people and 2 suitcases at a time), but others in newer  parts of the building are more spacious.  There's a smallish indoor pool, which is not recommended for children or for lounging in the water, as 90 % of it is more than 1.5 metres deep (5 feet).  If you like swimming underwater (I do) it's excellent for that, even if not overly large.

Staff at this hotel are all warm and welcoming, from the front desk to the restaurant and bar.  Housekeeping handled everything thoroughly and in timely fashion.  Breakfast (not included) offered a choice of a fairly basic buffet or menu service.  It's in a good downtown location, if that's what you need.

The Well of the Virgin Mary -- Canadian Edition

Today, I want to write about a very picturesque little village in an out-of-the-way corner of Ontario -- a village which has remained picturesque precisely because the distance you have to cover to get there is enough to discourage day-trippers. 

It's about a 4-hour drive from Toronto, or from London.  You start off by making your way through farm country, alternately hilly and level.  If you go along Highway 10 you have to drive over the rolling highlands of the Caledon Hills between Toronto and Shelburne.  As you get farther north, although there's nothing to show it, you are actually crossing some of the highest elevations in southern and central Ontario, in Grey Country.  Eventually you wind back downhill and reach the shore of Georgian Bay at the town of Owen Sound, a lovely spot in its own right. 

From there, you head northwest and north along Highway 6.  Twenty minutes or so out of Owen Sound you pass through the pretty little bayside town of Wiarton, famous for its weather-predicting groundhog, Wiarton Willie.  For many Canadians, this also marks the "end of civilization" as there is no Tim Horton's outlet north of here on this road!

The highway continues north, up the middle of the Bruce Peninsula, mostly in long straight stretches with few hills, and almost an hour after Wiarton you arrive in the little village of Tobermory.  The road ends here, except between May and October, when the ferry Chi-Cheemaun sails up to four round trips a day between here and South Baymouth on Manitoulin Island.  From there, you can continue by car across the Island and on up into northern Ontario.  But that trip is for another day.

Tobermory is an extreme example of a "seasonal" resort town.  Many of the tourist facilities, lodges, motels, and restaurants close during the off-season -- which basically is defined by the ferry's sailing schedule.  A large percentage of the visitors are on their way to or from points north, and often will stop for a meal, or even an overnight stay (especially if they are reserved on the 7:00 am sailing in summer!). 

Another major source of tourism, though, is the scuba diving community.  Tobermory lies around a pair of small rocky harbours, guarded by groups of islands and reefs, carved out of the ancient rock of the Niagara Escarpment.  It's not a forgiving environment for sailors, yet this was a stopping point for many ships that used to provide local service up the peninsula, along the coast of the island to Sault Ste. Marie before the coming of highways -- a service colloquially referred to as "the turkey run".  Not a few of those ships came to grief, especially during the brutal fall storms for which the Great Lakes are renowned, and the waters around Tobermory are littered with shipwrecks -- including four or five within the actual harbours!  This region was designated years ago as Fathom Five Marine Park, the first underwater park in Canada, and is now incorporated into the Bruce Peninsula National Park. 

Scuba divers come from all over to plunge into these cold waters and study the numerous shipwrecks.  Even if you aren't a diver, you can still get close up and personal with several of the wrecks by taking a glass-bottom boat tour.  Sadly, dropping water levels mean that the boats can no longer sail right over some of the wrecks in shallower water, but you still get a good look anyway.  Many of the tours also include stops at the beautiful wilderness of uninhabited Flowerpot Island, which gets its name from the two rock stacks on its shores that look for all the world like giant flowerpots.  A few wild campsites are available on the island, but most visitors come for only a short visit here.  It's still a lovely spot.

Another special area is at the Cyprus Lake campground, south of Tobermory, where trails lead you through to the rocky eastern shore of the Bruce Peninsula, and the escarpment cliffs rising out of the lake there.  This is the place for spectacular views!

Tobermory is renowned for its beautiful sunsets over the lake, and everyone has a different favourite spot to view them.  You'll have no trouble getting suggestions, and directions, to a good place.

The village itself is not overly changed by tourism.  The motels are there, but they aren't obtrusive blots on the landscape.  Likewise the cafes and restaurants.  You'll find no shopping malls, outlets, or national brand stores of any kind.  Remember, you're an hour's drive north of the nearest Timmy!  There are a number of tourist gift shops and candy stores along Bay Street, and a few little places selling local arts and crafts.  It's a great place to walk.  Traffic is light, except when the ferry comes in, and there are roads or paths all around both arms of the harbour -- called the Little Tub and the Big Tub.  The ferry dock is right at the point of land between the two arms, as the ship is far too big to get any farther in.

I particularly like Tobermory in September.  The air is fresh and clear, the crowds considerably diminished once school starts again.  After Labour Day the ferry drops back to its spring-and-fall schedule of twice a day.  The whole place becomes quieter, more peaceful, and in a few weeks you even get the beginnings of the fall colours.

My own particular favourite spot is a few kilometres south of the village, off the west side of the highway.  This is the beach at Dorcas Bay, which is nicknamed "the Singing Sands".  Picture a bay a kilometre wide, with a broad flat pan of sand spreading from side to side and out into the water.  Even at a terrific distance from the shore the water is still wading depth.  Thus, at every visit, the shoreline will "appear" to be in a different spot, due to the rises and falls of the water level.  The Great Lakes aren't quite tidewater, but there can be a fair difference in water level from spring to summer to fall, and Dorcas Bay is one place where the differences get really dramatic!  The name, "Singing Sands" comes from the fact that in the right weather conditions (dry and breezy, with the wind at the right angle) the sand will actually begin to create a kind of humming sound.  Several other specific beaches on the Great Lakes share this peculiar natural phenomenon. 

Even in summer, with tourists swarming around the village, most of Tobermory maintains a remarkably peaceful atmosphere.  Especially this becomes true in the evening, when the daytrippers have left and the ferry passengers have gone.  The cool breezes, evergreen forests, rocky shores, and lapping waters create an atmosphere in which it becomes very easy to park the cellphone, put away the tablet, and just sit down, relax and absorb nature.  We need more opportunities like this in our hectic lives!

Oh, by the way -- the peculiar title of this post?  Tobermory is named after a town on the Isle of Mull in western Scotland.  The name is said to be derived from the Gaelic Tobar Mhoire, which means "The Well of the Virgin Mary".