There's Still Hope

My last post. Not of the 'At the going down of the sun, we will remember them' kind of post, but nevertheless the final day of the holiday had to arrive and gave rise to lots of chat about days spent, highlights, most memorable activities etc.

As for the final 24 hours, we awoke on yet another delightfully bright day. The view from our room looked fresh and washed clean by overnight rain and we were determined to make the best of our final full day.

From Osoyoos which, we later realise, is really close to the US border, and Washington State, we began the long haul back to Vancouver.  Our 400km drive took us first along the Similkameen River valley with hills on all sides, by no means on the scale of the Rockies but certainly more Cumbria than Cotswolds. Significant landscapes!

The whole valley is evidently well suited to agriculture, there being examples of large fruit farms, with significant distances between pockets of settlements, the occasional rodeo and cabins for anglers (we imagine - not much else to do here other than pick or eat fruit!) 

After swapping drivers at Princeton and now a passenger again I amused myself for a while trying to capture photos of the fabulous iconic trucks through the car windscreen as they charged towards us. Aren't they wonderful?

Keep on truckin' fellas.

Our main rest stop of the day around lunchtime had been chosen in hope - literally. Just outside the town of the same name, so called in 1848 as the 'best hope' for finding an inland trade route that bypassed the Fraser Canyon, and at the confluence of the Coquihalla and Fraser Rivers, are located the Othello Tunnels. 

The Fraser River valley

In Coquihalla Canyon Provincial Park outside Hope, a short but fascinating walk passes through a spectacular granite canyon where 5 incredible tunnels were blasted. 

Main entrance 

An engineering marvel completed 100 years ago this year as part of the Kettle Valley Railway, the tunnels were conceived by Andrew McCulloch. Undeterred by the challenges facing him to find a route through the rock, McCulloch was lowered down over the cliff edge in a woven basket with surveying instruments and from there was able to determine the perfect place to set explosives. With 5 tunnels and 2 bridges finally in alignment this created a way through using only 1/3rd of a mile of track rather than a precariously winding mile. When you see the height and thickness of the rock as well as the depth to the Fraser River below you would appreciate the sheer enormity of the task. Now decommissioned as a railway, you can walk through the tunnels which at times are incredibly dark. 

Tunnel 2

Torches advisable. 

Perhaps even more interesting for some is that this location, as well as several others in the nearby town, was used in the filming of 'Rambo: First Blood.' Remember when Rambo clung for his life to the rock walls and where the police officer falls out of the helicopter? The Othello Gorge, between tunnels 1 and 2. Although never acknowledged as Hope in the film there are 13 other identifiable locations in town which, with more time, we might have investigated. HRH appeared to know them all.

Can you believe this, the first Rambo film, is now 35 years old!??

Moving on. 

A final push saw us arriving in Vancouver's city limits at around 4.30pm and with a bit of skilled navigation and patient driving (I'll let you guess who was in which seat) we said goodbye to our trusty wheels and headed to our last hotel. With a sigh of relief I greeted the Receptionist's words when she mentioned we had a large corner room NOT adjacent to the elevators! HRH's reaction as we opened the room door?

"Bit of a long way to drag the cases! ....... Joke :-)" 

Farewell Canada.  It's been a blast.

Wineding Down

September has arrived, and so has the end of our time in the mountains. Given that we chose to return home out of Vancouver this required a circular route if we were not simply to retrace our steps. Fortunately HRH has a good friend who recommended an alternative route that would achieve our aim whilst at the same time providing us with a change of scenery and an added dimension. Wine. Well we certainly got that. Within half an hour of leaving Revelstoke, the horizon was already really different. The mountains, the Monashee range, are smaller, less alpine, and the route we were on, albeit Highway 1 (the Trans-Canadian Highway) only a single lane each side and still quite winding with huge trucks often thundering towards us. Exciting driving until suddenly, taking a turn south at Sicamous the scenic transformation was clear. Now the landscape was softer, the hillsides home to fruit trees. 

Taken through the car window - not altogether satisfactory.

We rolled past farms selling blueberries, homely ranches advertising accommodation, small lakes with boat-hire operations and fields of tall corn ready for harvesting. We even passed a farm cultivating Spruce trees, which seemed somewhat ironic after weeks of seeing nothing but fir trees growing naturally. I was also amused to see, in an otherwise rather dreary backwater called Enderby, a real-live movie drive-in!

And then we saw what we came to see:

The Okanagan Valley is a hot spot for Canadian wines, this area being particularly dry and sunny with well-drained soil, and bordered by the Okanagan Lake and the river of the same name. 

First sight of the lake. Note the verdant gentle slopes in the distance, dense with vineyards. 

My gift of the day was to be the designated driver. We had done our research and, combined with a few recommendations along the way, HRH had identified a lovely looking 'winery' to explore, before having lunch in their rather splendid-sounding restaurant. And so, with the sun once again gracing us with its presence we arrived at Quail's Gate. 

In a beautiful setting, on the lake, and fabulous food to boot.

The seared halibut with chanterelles, salty new potatoes and romanesque was as delicious as the view. 

His gift to me was to make me laugh. Having already quaffed a fresh light, white Viognier, ("No thank you. No starter. This will be fine instead") HRH selected a juicy Pinot Noir to accompany his tagliatelle. Swirling it gently round the glass he remarked on the clear evidence of its quality: 

"Mmmm. Look at the legs on that!" 

I knew what he meant ;-)

Lunch over, it was time to hit the road again. With one more vineyard visit on the agenda, closer to our overnight accommodation, and still another 30 miles or so away we pressed on. By now the afternoon was waning and it was clear the clouds were gathering. We caught the last of the light as we left Tinhorn Creek having booked a table to return later for dinner in their restaurant high on the hill. 

Tinhorn Creek - has its own green outdoor amphitheatre and hosts summer concerts. And there, above it, the restaurant from which we would look down over the valley at dinner.

Sadly that was where the day, and to some extent, our spirits faded. The clouds came over, the rain arrived and by the time we returned for supper a couple of hours later appetites for yet more rich food had somewhat deserted us. I guess we were also now thinking ahead to our last full day tomorrow, and the practicalities that go with driving into the city on a Friday afternoon, at the end of the summer recess, returning our trusty Chevrolet and a final night in Canada. Time to reflect. Time to stop. Maybe one more post tomorrow ..... 

X

The One Where We Went To Cedar Trees

Early morning in Banff was lovely. Once again the sun was shining (how lucky have we been?) so we hopped on the downtown bus again but stayed on to the bridge at the far end of town for a further look around and to enjoy a longer stroll back. Imagine somewhere slightly smaller than Stratford but with the same sort of feel - a river, parks, historic buildings, an array of small (and some not so small) shops, enough to engage the tourists at all times of year etc but then drop a gobsmackingly gorgeous backdrop right round in a full 360 degree vista. Banff! Beautiful.

View from the bridge ...

And heading back into town over same bridge. Stunning!

What's more the streets are wide, the traffic slow and drivers respectful of pedestrians, it's clean, quiet and well maintained. I loved that all the cross streets are named after wildlife - Elk Street, Bear Street etc - and that junctions with the main thoroughfare are indicated with engraved brass plaques about 18" across, set into the pavement. 

Buffalo Street and Wolf Street

And just in case you were not sure when you'd arrived at Moose Avenue, they helpfully built a large but appropriately chalet-like hotel of same name and marked it in an unobtrusive way.

This may be the only moose I see :-( 

Saying goodbye to Banff after a brief but very pleasant visit was tough. We could have stayed longer, but our next stop, and the Okenagen Valley (wine!) was beckoning. Back past Lake Louise and the already amassing crowds, and on to Highway 1, the Trans-Canadian Highway, towards Revelstoke. 

Blue skies, beautiful views and a straight road meant we made good progress.

Then suddenly, after an hour or so, the drive got interesting. Winding through steep mountain passes required careful concentration such that at Golden (and the quaintly named Kicking Horse ski resort) we stopped for lunch and to swap drivers.  It was noticeable that having left Banff National Park and as we unceremoniously slipped across the border from Alberta back into BC, there was a distinct but subtle change of scenery. The mountains became less vast, equally beautiful but less rocky, more alpine, which was when we realised we had also transitioned from Banff National Park into Glacier National Park. 

This park's history is closely tied to the Canadian Pacific Railway which was finished in 1885. Before then this area was virtually impassable, prone as it was to heavy snow and avalanches. It has many active glaciers, one of the largest networks of underground caves in Canada and a large number of trails which attract keen alpine walkers (not us - we were just passing through). In fact some say that the early pioneers who were determined to access these peaks and valleys were those who gave rise to the 'sport' of mountaineering. The 'main event' is known as Rogers Pass. I would have taken a photograph but I was too busy hanging on to the door handle as we made our way up, down and around the hair-pin bends. 

We did however have another rest stop in mind before checking in to tonight's accommodation. HRH had spotted that just before our turn-off and at the eastern edge of Revelstoke National Park (no kidding, they all pretty much run into each other round here), was a Giant Cedar Boardwalk. 

This short but beautiful walk takes you into the heart of the forest, among cedar trees that may be more than 500 years old. To put that into perspective we were informed that many of the trees there were seedlings when Columbus discovered America, saplings when the Mona Lisa was painted in 1506 and already more than 100 years old when Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet was first performed in 1595! That's old ...

... I meant the trees!

Shaggy-barked western red cedar ...

... and furrowed western hemlock.

See how big they are? Comedy shot coming up. 

Tree hugger

We were fascinated that this woodland has been left completely natural (apart from constructing the walkway) with as much dead or dying as thriving and growing, demonstrating the whole unique ecosystem for everything from bears to bats, birds to bugs. 

Decay and evidence of earlier growth

So there we have it. Another day, another  shared experience. And that was where today's blog was going to end. We checked in and guess what? We were next to the lift!!! But it's ok :-) I road-tested it for noise and the room was pronounced acceptable so I headed to the open-air jacuzzi for a lovely long soak. And then a familiar face appeared. With a new room key. We'd moved. Nuff said. New room has a balcony ..... 

It seems HRH has been here before. Before he became King Edward VIII that is when he unveiled a tablet at the top of Mount Revelstock in 1919. A man of influence. 

Drove My Chevy to the Levee....

Yup! It was rocks and rollin' for yours truly today. And ok, so it wasn't quite the levee that we drove to but there WAS a lot of water involved! 

After our first stop (more later) I was at the wheel, cruisin' down the Icefields Parkway, otherwise known as Highway 93 out of Jasper and heading south. Known as possibly one of the most scenic routes in the world, there were SO many possibilities for places to stop, even if only for a short while, that we were spoilt for choice and having to make ruthless decisions given that we also had to cover 330 kilometres. And the rocks? Well just when we thought we'd seen mountains, along come the real Rockies, huge, towering hunks of, well rock really. So far above sea level that they soar way above the sustainable tree line such that, unlike the mountains in British Columbia that are majestic yet verdant with pine and fir trees so these are hard, hulking, dramatic and imposing, imprinting their sheer size on the landscape in a way that makes it impossible to forget that they are in charge, both of history and the future. They have stood for millennia and will continue to dominate the scenery for many more to come. 

Our first stop of the day was one of those we almost gave a miss and boy, would we have missed a treat. The trouble is after nearly three weeks of incredible scenery you start to reach saturation point. Mistake! Lesson learned after we very nearly decided to overlook Athabasca Falls. 'Hmmm, what do you think? Another waterfall?' 'Oh go on, it will do us good to get out and stretch our legs. We have a lot of miles to cover'. And BAM! Unbelievable. Bigger, faster, more beautiful etc etc. And we arrived when the sun's rays chose to bless us and our impromptu stop with nature's kiss.

Rainbow caught in the spray

One of the fabulous things about touring in Jasper National Park is the freedom to pull in at any rest stop, viewing point or attraction with no parking charges, no entrance fees, no washroom coins required and no litter! Now we realise what the three-day park pass was for, and very well worth it too. Our day cruising the Icefield Parkway was truly enhanced by this spontaneous approach, by the ability to catch any 'wow', to stop and photograph any view, and to connect with our own version of the majesty of the Rockies as we saw fit. All that is true except of one location - the Columbia Icefields/Athabasca Glacier. Next stop. 

For this 'attraction' HRH did loads of research (thank you TripAdviser), I had trawled the guide books and we had consulted people we know who have done a similar trip or whom we have met whilst in Canada. It's fair to say some people really enjoyed their visit but a significant majority had less than glowing reports to give, so we were prepared. Again, I suspect we have been spoiled by previous experiences, but I'm very pleased we didn't spend the £50+ each to join this bun fight. Sorry, but it has become very commercial and consequently something of a disappointment. Apparently I didn't do a very good job of hiding my distain. HRH had this to say (I asked for his unadulterated version): "In isolation it was perhaps quite spectacular. We've seen more impressive glaciers, in nicer settings. But hey, it was ok". His was the generous verdict! We saved ourselves the outlay, walked out on our four feet to the toe of the ice which was disappointingly grubby and surrounded by parched, scrubby brown earth and hoards of people. I've included a photograph because you'll understand why I accept I'm being somewhat disingenuous but we were both happy to leave it behind and resume our drive.

We hiked the short distance to stand metres from the receding ice. Others took the specialised ice buses to drive onto it further back and walk on it. 

The afternoon was given over to lakes, and views, and views, and lakes. So many beauty spots it is hard to recollect them all. The clouds came and went, the day was hot then humid, the light was intermittently great and then not, so our snaps once again don't always do the landscape justice but the memories will linger on.

Nigel's Pass

Waterfowl Lake

Bow Lake

Crowfoot Glacier

Lake Louise deserves a special mention. In a picture-perfect setting this beautiful lake boasts a chateau-style hotel for the privileged few to look down upon the glacial water. For the rest of us, and apparently there are so many visitors that at times the approach roads are closed, an opportunity to take in the gorgeousness from the shoreline. We arrived at close to 6.00pm and although we had no difficulty getting there or parking, I've cropped out the people in the foreground all of whom were doing as we were - trying to get that special shot. This doesn't do it justice. C'est la vie. 

At Lake Moraine we had slightly better luck. The last stop of a lovely day's drive before our ultimate destination.

Arriving in Banff after 8.00pm we were delighted to be offered complimentary passes on the local shuttle. I'm a sucker for experiencing places like locals if possible so loved hopping on a bus to 'downtown', where we rolled into the 'Elk and Oarsmen' for burgers and beer. Big love. 

A Symphony in C Major

Following yesterday's somewhat sedentary day driving to Jasper we were happy that today we'd be out in the fresh air. After much debate and taking into consideration advice from other people we've met, we decided to hike, under our own steam, the length of the Maligne Canyon before a couple of further stops later in the day, weather and energy permitting. Turns out it was a great choice. With bright, though not altogether sunny weather, we geared up and set off out of town. 

I should explain that the canyon, and indeed the river and the lake of the same name, were called Maligne (French for 'evil' or 'wicked') after Father Pierre-Jean de Smet, a Belgian Jesuit missionary had trouble crossing the river on his horse in 1846. The canyon varies in width at different points along its route but at 50 metres (160 feet) deep for most of its 2.5 mile length it is only passable by six strategically placed bridges. 

The canyon is accessed from various places but we chose to start at the end and work towards the beginning, thereby avoiding the significant crowds who don't opt for the full experience and only manage Bridges 1 and 2. Having parked at Bridge 6 we had the trail pretty much to ourselves for a large part of the walk. Deep joy. And I'm not just saying that - the realisation that we were in the Rocky Mountains, in gorgeous fir woodland, with alpine peaks as a backdrop and taking in sights and sounds of such beauty is enough to really make you stop talking and just think how lucky we are to be alive. I really wish I could share the musicality of the water coursing alongside, at times bubbling, roaring, rushing or crashing through the canyon, or the birdsong, or the percussion of boots thumping rhythmically on the compacted mud floor or missing a beat when rocks dictated a minor diversion. The irony is that in bear country you are advised to keep conversation flowing so that they are aware of your presence but in the magnificent setting today we were happy to tune into nature's symphony and leave the canyon to be its own bear-deterrent. 

My other wish is that the photographs could convey the true majesty of this place. It's impossible to show the scale of the mountains, the depth of the drop to the canyon floor, the shapes formed by water crashing over rocks for millennia, the colours of the glacial water and the minerals in the rock in a few hurriedly taken snapshots. You have to see them to appreciate the beauty pageant in all its glory. All this stuff about sounds and sights will hopefully clarify my 'symphony' in 'C (canyon) major'.

Enjoying the fresh air

At times the river literally emerges from beneath the rock over which you are walking. Clearly here it isn't deep at all.

Now the canyon gets more interesting. Sometimes the river tumbles over rocks, is fed by glacial run-off, it pours out through caves and thunders around bends, eroding the walls by fractions of millimetres more each year. 

Starting to get a sense of the depth of the canyon ...

... and the power of the water to erode rock.

Look closely - I'm there in the middle and it's a LONG way down.

The photos could go on, and on, and I'm still not sure they would capture the canyon's impact. We had a wonderful few hours, and returned to the car enriched and glowing. 

Our second and third stops of the day were much less energetic but nevertheless interesting so 'bear' with me.

At Medicine Lake we pulled over to take yet another snap but importantly to read the info boards, explaining its alternative name, the 'Disappearing Lake'. 

Looking dark and broody under heavy clouds. To get a sense of the size, those are people right down by the water's edge. 

In summer Medicine Lake looks pretty much like many others in Jasper National Park. By October, however, it has virtually vanished and yet there is no visible outlet. Furthermore it remains empty until each spring the lake returns. The native Indians thought the disappearance was down to 'big medicine' or magic and feared the lake. In fact, a network of underground cracks, caused by glacial activity allow the Maligne River to flow out at a constant rate yet with the addition of melting snow and rainwater run-off the lake takes on more in summer than the drainage system can carry out, hence a temporary lake is formed every year.

And so to Maligne Lake itself. All around is the Queen Elizabeth range of mountains, with Monkhead central, far off in the distance. Once again the absence of sunshine made the photos disappointing. The steaming bowls of chilli in the restaurant there were most definitely not. Great way to wrap up our fresh-air day before the drive back to Jasper. 

Did I mention we'd had a great day? 

Looking relaxed and happy - and on the mend :-) 

Northern Stars

Sunday means a lazy start, especially when on holiday, so we yawned and stretched and took a leisurely approach to breakfast which was shared with four other Brits, all lodged at the same B&B and all doing one version of the same trip as us or another. We exchanged tips on what to see where, what to avoid and then all headed off in our various directions, in our case waving goodbye to the Lake House and heading north.

By late morning the clouds were trying hard to lift but as the road was good we made excellent time with only a little disappointment about the lower temperatures and the hidden views, and before long were at the most northern point on our driving route, and coincidentally at the highest point in the Canadian Rockies, Mount Robson. The rest stop and information centre there is not much more than that but it is extremely well placed, set as it is where, on a clear day, the star attraction would be magnificently framed from the viewing platform at the back of the building. We threw on fleeces, stepped outside, and here's what we saw:

  Shame :-( 

Undaunted we bought hot chocolate and a sarnie and so passed 15 minutes in a pretty setting but where the lead performer flatly refused to emerge centre stage. The sun, however, did make a welcome appearance which only served to confirm how changeable the conditions can be high up in the mountains. And it seems the sunshine wasn't the only thing that came out to play this afternoon. Meet our second northern star of the day.

Our first elk of our Canadian adventures was grazing alongside the Yellowhead Highway and was utterly undistracted when I leapt from the car and approached within 4 feet! It was only afterwards that it occurred to me that those antlers could do quite some damage - hmmm.

And so to Jasper. What an unexpected place. First of all you cross the county/state border from British Columbia into Alberta (losing another hour on the clock, to boot - how come no-one mentioned that!?) and enter the National Park. Then you arrive at the checkpoint/gate and get grilled on your plans whilst in the park, before being issued with a 'permission slip' and a bill (for almost $60 for our forthcoming 3 days - how come no-one mentioned THAT?!)

And here we are, in Jasper itself. It's clear the custodians of the National Park would probably rather not have a town in the centre of such an area of outstanding natural beauty at all. Jasper is a small linear place that appears to serve mostly as somewhere for people to stay temporarily whilst visiting the area. Largely a collection of low-rise hotels and an endless flow of coaches and RVs, plus a few streets of residential homes, probably to house all the hotel staff, Jasper serves as a pick-up and drop off point for the many tours to the mountains, lakes and glaciers in the area. We have been forewarned that all the local attractions will be busy by late morning tomorrow so we need to be on our mettle to avoid the crowds. Ok then ... 

And so we check in. Eventually. You remember the hiccough at our Whistler hotel, when we had to change rooms due to the lift noise? Well this time HRH was prepared. The cases stayed firmly in the car until he'd seen and audio tested the assigned room. Guess where it was. Yup, right next to the lift! We moved .... well, sort of. We returned to Reception. "Yes, of course sir, I could offer you room XYX. It's at the other end of the hotel and well away from the elevator". 

Off we go again. Still no suitcase. No lift noise either (yay) but a constant hum from a mysterious fan - sigh - so HRH goes off to investigate. A short while later the phone rings. 

"I found the source of the noise. We appear to be over the kitchen. It's the main extractor. I tracked it down, through a door, but locked myself out so am back at Reception. Can you come down? We're moving again". 

By now I'm feeling huge sympathies with hotel staff, Receptionists in particular (yes, that means former-you, Mim, especially) but realise it's the only option. We DO have to stay 2 nights and still-poorly HRH needs his sleep. Still, it all turned out OK in the end. 

Ha! Thank you very much. That will do nicely. Northern stars 3 and 4? Apparently that's now US!! :-)

I Need a 'Kaboom'

Funny how when the noise of one location can be invasive, so suddenly the utter silence of another can come as a shock to the system. The lakeside location of our B&B in Clearwater is so remote that hardly a sound can be heard from our room and for some reason that prevented me from getting off to sleep last night. Clearly I did nod off at some stage since I was woken in the early hours by the unmistakeable sound of ..... rain:-( Rain that persisted throughout breakfast, and only started to abate as we togged up to make what we could of our day in Clearwater. As it turned out we had a gentle, restful yet once again scenically different day without too much concern for the residual dampness in the air. 

On the advice of our hostess we set out to take in the 'highlights in a day' which found us first of all en route to Spahats Falls. After a short drive to a roadside carpark and a 2 minute walk there it was, in all its gushing furious glory, a 240ft high, 25ft wide waterfall cascading from a hole in the rock face. Most impressive. Spahats Creek was long known as Bear Creek before being officially changed. Spahats is the First Nation translation of bear. 

Equally impressive was the geological explanation of the forming of the falls, a three stage process over thousands of years starting with the repeated eruption of underground volcanos (the strata of lava can be clearly seen but not so clearly photographed), followed by an ice age that laid down a layer of frozen water over a kilometre deep on top, before the sheer weight and force of the ice carved the deep crevasse we see today as it began to thaw and move.

View from behind the falls clearly showing  the depth of the glacial crevasse, complete with low hanging cloud.

Next stop was a few kilometres further down the road. This time we were headed for Dawson Falls. Already we were beginning to think 'groundhog day?', another waterfall? Couldn't have been more surprised. This natural attraction is so very different from the previous one and, nicknamed 'Little Niagara' you can see how.

350 ft wide but at just 59ft high Dawson Falls crashes through the valley of the Murtle River over lava flows dating back 200,000 years.

What's more, the 10 minute stroll in each direction to reach these falls led us through thriving cedar woods with impressive specimens of immense size and signposts warning that we were very much in bear country. These tantalising mentions of bears were everywhere. The bears, sadly, were not.

See ... Impressive specimens. Like I said. 

Back to the car where our route now took us rather more 'off road'. That's to say, the 'road' carried on but the surface didn't. Ever the adventurous on we went. Next stop on the 'highlights' hand-drawn map was a spot called Bailey's Chute. We'd been told that this was the place to see salmon jumping. We didn't like to mention to our hostess that we'd already seen a mass of salmon swimming upriver in Ketchikan and figured it was worth a look anyway, it being on the Clearwater River, after which the local town is called. And how pleased we were that we did. Another quite different experience, here salmon easily 2 feet long hurtle themselves against the vast flow of roaring water supposedly to obey a primeval instinct. It's a strange instinct though, let me tell you, because not only do very few make it up the chute it turns out they were not even born there, but rather half a mile back downstream where the exhausted fish end up being swept back to having failed the leaping contest. Seems odd to me that they should feel the need to try in the first place since from birth until now they were unaware of the treacherous battleground just upstream. Bizarre .... but beautiful.

See dat fish? It's a foot out of the water and big enough to feed a family of fifteen.

One final stop for the day, Helmcken Falls. By now we had learned not to pre-judge and so drove willingly to what was described in the info-blurb as Number 3 in the list of "Wonders of the World You Never Hear About". Helmcken Falks are the 4th highest in Canada and this illustration will give you some idea of the scale.

So there we have it. A little gentle exercise walking to each of the hotspots, during which thankfully the majority of the water seen was, in the end, flowing, not falling and nothing too taxing to remember our day in the Wells Gray National Park.

What a shame, therefore, that we were still feeling deprived of the bear necessities of life. HRH too, having missed out on his orcas, was wistfully accepting of our destiny not to see the native teddies in the flesh and in the wild. Don't get me wrong, the waterfalls had been impressive but I had visions of this day's blog being something of a somewhat repetitive damp squib. I was craving a highlight, a 'kaboom' to finish on (yes, I know - probably being greedy). Nevertheless as we started our drive back to base I'd just been thinking of the old adage about how you wait for ages and then two come along at once and so, in trying to make us both feel better, threw this out as a suggestion, that maybe bears are like buses. 

"What," says HRH, "big and red?" Very funny. And so we were somewhat distracted when suddenly, whoosh. There, not 2 feet from my car door as we passed them at the side of the road, not one, or two but THREE black bears. 

By the time we had pulled over and quietly emerged from the car we were perhaps 50 feet beyond them (as luck would have it the recommended distance from these wild creatures, especially nursing mums). So there we have it - today's exclamation mark to finish an otherwise back to nature gentle sort of day! So chuffed.