Whistle while you work

So. Whistler was big. And not just yeah, that's a big mountain, but more along the lines of big like its taking me 20 minutes to ski one run. Furthermore, its big because its taking me 20 minutes to ski one ski run in one bowl on one hill.

I think its fair to say that I challenged myself past the point of what I had been capable of doing on skis. I'd never skied powder before. not groomed powder, the light fluffy stuff that has been completely untouched before I ran my skis through it. After the first day there Coops and I would just look at each other with grins, silently reminiscing about the enormity of runs, the temptation to ski one perfect run over and over, but knowing there were way too many new runs to try, and many more that we would not even get to within a week of solid skiing.

Day one. Whistler Mountain. It was awesome, bar the snow that just kept falling. At one point we cruised around the back of Whistler Peak, hoping for that fall flat on your ass view, only to find the run completely immersed in fog and snow. I had no idea where I was going. Coops had no idea where he was going. The trail markers would disappear from the side of the trail, and while heading down was generally the idea, barrelling over an unexpected edge was not preferable. Eventually the top of Upper Peak to Creek cleared and I could unclench pretty much everything and enjoy the ride.

Day two was almost the highlight of the week. We headed to Blackcomb to compare mountains. For the record, Blackcomb is my favoured of the two. High risk, when conquered creates high thrills. Thus was my Blackcomb Glacier experience. Its a ridiculously huge bowl at the back of Blackcomb peak. You only get experienced skiers there because there are few blue runs, and its back country black runs predominantly, with chances for avalanche. You also have to walk over a pass (please note previous comment about avalanche) to get there. I got to the top and thought this was the day I would meet my maker. I was shaking as I took off into the powder, and I think it was fear that brought my first fall. I then realised that powder was the preferable place to fall, both for softness and effect. There is nothing better than a high speed stack that creates an enormous plume of snow which envelope you completely, somewhat reminiscent of having thrown a small grenade at your feet. Our first run out of Blackcomb Glacier took us (well, me) an hour. Brilliant.

We both managed a few good stacks. Obviously I have the quantity, but Coops had the quality, even managing to bust the screen on his camera in Powder (quite impressive given earlier description).

Day three saw more Blackcomb action. We had loved the runs, and fewer 'bunnies' on the slopes. Whistler accommodated the family market, so we enjoyed the open, uncrowded slopes. Day four was back to Whistler, and in a surprising move, we purchased tickets for a fifth day when Sam came up from Vancouver to join in the fum. Subsequently our 5th and last day in skiing in Whistler was back on Blackcomb, again challenging the elements in the glacier bowl (slightly quicker this time, fear beaten down with a pretty pink ski) and we just couldn't get enough.

It was just a fantastic way to complete a year neat in Canada. Coops and I said a tearful goodbye to some great friends when we left Vancouver and flew to New Zealand on 27th March. We spent a tired, but essential 24 hours with some more friends who I'd missed dearly in Auckland before getting home on the 29th.

Nearly two months on, and life is almost like it was. But different. A new job to learn, and still some old friends to drop in on. It goes without saying that it seems like a distant memory, and while I'm still finding it cold here, I can't readily forget (and be thankful that I'm not still in) the big freeze of Canada.

I have to admit, I'm at a bit of a loss as to what to do about the blog. While I work it out, I'd like to say thanks to those of you still reading. Thanks for the comments along the way, they were always appreciated. Ciao.

Whistler, B.C.

A patch of sun hits the trees the morning we carved first tracks in the snow.











Close to the top section of Blue Line. Hit this first thing in the morning and there's an inch of powder sitting on top of the groomed run and its just like skiing whipped cream.











View from Whistler across to Blackcomb's awesome runs.


Snow angels were ahem, compulsory...





















Check out the angle on some of those slopes....
















Sam came up the last day to board with Coops and I. He had the most perfect weather on the last day of our holiday. This was at the bottom of Blackcomb Glacier Bowl.

NYC Words

New York was one of those trips where its only an hour flight away, but you have to get to the airport at one of those times that should not ever register in your consciousness. It was only the promise of the Big Apple and its hustle and bustle that enable me to function that morning I think. Subsequently we arrived bleary eyed at La Guardia 7am on a Wednesday morning anticipating a ridiculously jam packed day of sight-seeing.

The great thing about landing in New York during the week is that there is rarely a line up for the Empire State building. We found it easily by looking for the tallest pointy bit, and unwittingly crossed off many a famous landmark on the way because they are everywhere in Manhattan. It was pretty breezy up there, and a little hazy, but done.

Never passing up a free ride we headed to Staten Island for the view of Liberty Island - and not to sound tight, but I don't actually see the point in paying to get to the island now that you have to stand in line, go through security tighter than their airports (and that's saying something) only to walk around the base now that the internal structural tour has been closed down permanently.

As is customary, we wore our feet out because we were kind of intimidated by the subway at first. Subsequently we fell in love with it shortly thereafter. Unfortunately there was no travellator to take us the span of Brooklyn Bridge, but surprisingly it was interesting enough that I barely noticed my aching feet. I've never been that in amid of man made structures - well modern ones anyway - but the bridge was just kinda cool, the sun was shining, and I wasn't having to deal with slippery ice underfoot.

I was keen to see the architecture at the Guggenheim, but the Council of Frustrating the Tourists by having Famous Architectural Sites Scaffolded had been at it again, and there was nothing to see here. Buying hot dogs and walking through Central Park seemed to fill the void.

What else? As I mentioned we were staying just off Times Square, so passing through often brought comments of using enough electricity to power a small country to the lips. I was also interested to discover m&m World - a bit of a play on Disney where you could find all thing Red and Yellow m&m. Very interesting.

I have to say, New York didn't quite blow me away, but it fascinated me from a distant standpoint. I think New Yorkers are different to any other Americans I've met, but were not the rude people I had imagined. Not that friendly, but didn't blank you like other nationalities might...

NYC

Construction at the World Trade Centre Site.

Times Square, Broadway and 7th Ave.

NYC Public Library. Say what you wanna, I'm here to stay 'Cause I'm a mean ol' Lion. (Lions Anthem, The Wiz)

Hot dog vendor.

Staton Island ferry (free) passing Liberty Island.

Grand Central Terminal.

Empire view Downtown.

Downtown Manhattan from Brooklyn Bridge.

Chrysler Buidling from Washington Square, behind the Library.

What's New York without staying in some flea bitten hotel room just off Times Square?

Brooklyn Bridge.

Brooklyn Bridge.

Winterlude Ottawa 2008, Part 2

Skating on the canal - well, Dow's Lake technically - did not go as gracefully as my imagination had played out. No misadventures, but I don't think I'll make the hockey team this year....Man it was cold though. I couldn't stay on the ice for longer than an hour, and that's with the warming characteristics of hot chocolate and Beaver Tails. (I was too scared to stand by the fire blazing away on top of the ice - but for how long....)


Snow sculptures in Gatineau (just over the Ottawa River), pretty amazing.

Oh, and Beaver Tails are not literally beaver tails in this case. They're deep fried pastry similar to a long flat beaver tail shape, covered in cinnamon and sugar. Awefully naughty, but with the cold it could have been life and death...

Winterlude, Ottawa 2008

Ah, the challenge of photographing Ice... Well, the camera and I did our best, and with a little help from PhotoShop, it would seem that you can vaguely make out some of these shapes. Unfortunately I could not quite do justice to the amazing pieces of art that are alas, with us in this world for such brief a moment as the snow dast fall.



There were artists from all over the world, displaying cultural pieces that were simply astounding. I can't help but admore these people that can create something so unbelievable, knowing that they will inevitably melt away in such a short time. It's started getting warmer here (well, from -19degC to -4degC roughly) so no longer do the swords hold their terrifyingly sharp edge, and the horses, frozen in place, will no longer hope to break into motion on their melted limbs...



I think my favourite has to be this T-Rex skeleton. Even without the 'flesh' it was still a little threatening, and the detail astounding, depite the softening as the edges dripped away.



I still can't work out why the Ottawan's are celebrating winter in such a way, they have nice summers, and there's plenty of skiing to be done, obviously. Ice hockey. Curling. But to celebrate being outdoors during this time is...confusing. The canal is now open from as close to the locks as you can basically get, to Dows Lake. Its about 7km of skating. Once you get to the lake you can reward yourself with a sleigh ride. Whether or not Santa is driving is so far unconfirmed.

Niagara Falls

I had sensibly taken several factors into consideration in order to arrange my trip to Niagara Falls:

1) Coops was going to Germany for work, so I could keep myself occupied with new scenery.
2) The weather forecast predicted that the drive there would be in lovely sunshine with a temperature just above freezing.
3) The day I would have there may possibly snow, but would still be in the positive area of the barometer.
4) The drive back would be in sunshine also, allowing for an uneventful trip back though New York state just for something different.

Unfortunately Coops' trip was moved back, so I effectively wasted valuable entertainment activity, then the weather closed in with a nice display of freezing rain (um kinda like hail, but tinyer and more annoying, not to mention slippery and dangerous) mixed with snow = 70km p/h on the freeway. The day I had at the falls turned on snow, freezing rain (or maybe just frozen waterfall mist) and 40km p/h winds. Then the drive back began amazingly well (oh, except the scrutiny from US Immigration about driving a car that I had no legal claim to over the border - appropriate use of resources people!) until I ran into a freak instant but brief snow fall directly west of Lake Ontario.

However, I was blown away by the falls. Not literally, despite the winds, but I can't help compare it to Victoria Falls, although there's something in me that just can't rate a North American wonder over an African one.

Its a 6hr trip, give or take, from Ottawa to Niagara Falls, so I arrived late in the afternoon and couldn't help but head pretty well straight down to The Falls. I drove past the American and Bridal Veil Falls first, then realised that the hugely impressive Horseshoe Falls were just around the corner when I had to hit the wiper blades, despite the distance from the water fall to the road.

They light up both the American Falls and Horseshoe falls from 7pm until 10pm, so I headed down to catch the display:

American Falls on the left and the more narrow Bridal Veil Falls on the right by night.

Horseshoe Falls by night.

There's all these facts about the falls that I can't really be bothered to type, so hopefully the diagrams below will actually be worth the '1000 words' they claim to be:

Although not the biggest falls by any stretch of the imagination, they are up there with the largest volume of water over falls anywhere, which has resulted in significant erosion.

This diagram depicts the rate at which the falls have been receding, although the rate has slowed now that the power of the falls are being harnessed for good (hydro-electricity) and not bad (er...bluescreens for early Superman movies).

Horseshoe Falls at sunrise this morning.

Oh, by the way, if you hadn't worked it out by now, if you click on the images they'll open bigger, and possibly even better....go Super Pictures - up, up and away!

Have you ever seen...?

I think I mentioned the plummeting temperatures, followed by an unseasonably warm spell last time. +10degC apparently thaws ice relatively quickly, however it was still pretty frozen the following weekend when Coops and I got out into the countryside of southern Ontario on our way to Kingston. At this time of year its quite pretty anywhere where the snow is thick and still pristine. Unfortunately that's mostly on the lakes and rivers in these parts.

Kingston sits at the mouth of the Lawrence River from Lake Ontario. Its an old fort town, no doubt trying to keep those pesky Americans on their own side of the lake. I find it interesting that the national and provincial borders here split the lakes and rivers in two, as opposed to say, New South Wales claiming the entire width of the Murray River for itself. I guess it makes things easier to own a boat in your home country, rather than harbouring it internationally... Following the river east from Lake Ontario is a 35km stretch, give or take, of what's known as Thousand Islands, however the figure is closer to 2,000 islands, that dot the Lawrence River. The islands vary in size from a rock or two poking out of the water, to a land mass big enough to sustain half a dozen summer cottages for those who can afford Canadian lifestyles of the rich and famous. Not a fancy boat in sight however, as they have all been taken out of the water and shrink wrapped ready for next summer, rather than suffering the horrible of being crushed by the expanding ice. We noticed even some jetties had been pulled up to escape the ice.

We stopped at Land O' Lakes on the way to put cracks on the frozen shore.

Although pretty, I didn't find Kingston all that entertaining or warm. One thing it did highlight to me however is that you can not get an individual meat pie anywhere in Canada. Don't let the Bakery sign fool you - there will be no pie in a warming display within, and it should bloody well be painted underneath the store signs! "Bakery of Sweet things. Maybe some interesting type breads, but not likely, but definitely no meat pies, beef or otherwise." Its very disheartening to an Aussie on a Sunday drive.

Skiing, again. My apologies to anyone who is violently opposed to the sport, but its my latest craze. And, not feeling like I have to defend its validity at all, but I guess it is up there with Rock climbing and Diving in terms of the awesome things you can do to get you out to see the most amazing spots on the planet; if you're hard core, or just happen to be living in the general area for a bit that is. Our weekends generally start with a complete disregard for what most of you will know as a sleep in. I used to enjoy those... So the start of the day usually heralds an open road and a big sky something like this:



We often head for Mont Saint Marie, which is about an hour and a half from Ottawa, and we always pass this field of rolled up hay, which I think is just darn cool, really.

Weekend before last we headed up to Mont Tremblant which is the premier ski hill for Quebec, if not all of Eastern Canada, without heading down into the States. To give you an idea, Tremblant was developed by the same crowd as Whistler, so its big, crazy and expensive. A little world unto its own, where you can't sit and have a hot chocolate without being pitched to about the benefits of owning Timeshare (which is why Whistler is better cause its now too big to canvas for new suckers, er I mean investors). But bless them for thinking we look rich...

I can't say I loved Tremblant. I don't know, maybe it was the 5am start, or the ungroomed, lumpy as all hell black run that I misguidedly thought I could navigate on my 2nd run of the day while my legs were still fresh but by the end of it felt like they'd been skiing for 3 days straight, I just don't know. The intermediate runs were either crowded (the sheer volume of skiers and boarders had scraped patches of ice everywhere, so that if you could manage to hold through it, you'd get to an accumulation of snow the other side that you now had to navigate) or ran through the board park (so you had to watch for skiers or boarders left and right as well as above). I can usually handle that stuff, but maybe I was just having an off day. Oddly the quieter green runs had the nicest snow coverage.

Photo courtesy of Coops.

It snowed most of the day at Tremblant, which was really quite nice, particularly when you were on the chair lift, and it was quiet, and the snow would just drift around you. Towards the end of the day the snow cleared and the clouds lifted just a bit to see down towards the frozen river.


Photo courtesy of Coops.

We've discovered that one of the more local mountains (30 minutes) has a great midweek night skiing deal and its still not too busy. After 6pm its only $11 for a lift ticket, which run until 10pm. The only downfall is that they have snow making at that time, so you'll often ski through a cloud of snow which will then stick to your goggles for the rest of the night. It also creates patches of granular snow about the size of golf balls which isn't that much fun either. But its a pretty good deal, so we've been getting our fix regularly.

Yesterday we headed back up to Mont Ste-Marie, and the snow was great. It was probably the warmest it has been while we've been skiing, so much so that my hands were little balls of sweat inside my new gloves - the extreme opposite of my old gloves, which were children's gloves, and in which my fingers would ache with cold. It was a great day for skiing. There was little wind, and the mountain wasn't all the busy which is always good if and when if happens. I was feeling good and the snow was near perfect so I decided to try my hand, or feet as it were, at a black run. Now this is the black run that I should have gone down rather than the double black that I did go down a few weeks back. Subsequently I was nervous, but I'd not fallen over in a while, and some of the blue runs were getting a little ho-hum, so I was keen for something new. Besides, the section we passed over the lift didn't look that bad.....

At the top the run wasn't all that steep, however it was mostly ice. You had to ski from small patch of snow to small patch of snow, which amazingly, and enjoyably I managed to do. After a few corners it got steeper and steeper, but thankfully there was more and more snow on the run the further we got down. By the time we were at the half way point I had decided that if my time happened to be up on this run, it would be the funnest thing I could die doing. There was a series of three huge steps down that as I watched, the 'experts' would fly over with huge air. You could not even see the landing below, but if all else failed I'll get to the bottom somehow. When I took off, I started with a slow sliding turn, then pretty much straightened up, lent further down the mountain and felt the snow flick up from the front of my skis into my face. It was awesome. I didn't even come a gutser! By the second run I barely even paused at the steps. We ran that black 4 or 5 times, and maybe it was beginners luck that I stuck it every time, but I think its the most fun I've had on a run to date! It was just unfortunate that I had a massive stack not long afterwards that put about 20m between me and one of my skis. Subsequently I spent quite a while icing my knee last night so that I can get back out there later this week. Hey, it was a black section also, so I don't feel so bad about it.

On the way home we could not believe how many deer we were spotting along the roads. I guess the sun was getting down and they were all out for dinner or something. Here, instead of road signs for kangaroos for the next 10km, its deer. They are probably the size of a big roo, and have equal ability to get enough height in a bound to clear your grill and come straight through your windscreen. Basically the same theory applies - avoid wherever safer to do so. I guess we spotted at least a dozen, thankfully none at close range.

I did however spot a strange ball of something up in a tree. Quickly having a guess - as illogical as it seemed, I got Coops to swing the car around and head back for a closer look. It wasn't all that unlike one of those balls of spitfires you'd come across as a kid, and then poke with a stick to see if they really would spit fire at you. (Spitfires are black, furry caterpillars about an inch and a bit long and about as thick as a pencil for those who didn't have the pleasure.) As we drove back past it, here in this three, hanging underneath the branch was a porcupine. I was astounded firstly, because I hadn't seen a porcupine in the wild yet, and secondly that it was in a tree which I just didn't realise they did at all! We were obviously disturbing its nap, so it crawled around to the top of the branch and just sat there checking us out, probably in the same way we were checking it out. It was amazing. It really did look deceptively cute and cuddly. Thrilled with out unexpected wildlife spotting for the day we headed home.


Photos courtesy of Coops.


The Rideau Canal is now partially open for skating. I've not been yet, so action shots to come, but its now every day you get to see a tractor driving on top of a frozen river.

I guess one good thing about the crisp cold winter is that light you get as the sun goes down, right before you really freeze your butt off. This sculpture of a spider (Debs, avert your eyes) stands out the front of the National Gallery here in Ottawa, complete with 26 white eggs visible in its abdomen. Its a freaky kind of thing, reminds me of Dr Who a little bit, or maybe Lord of the Rings The Two Towers - kind of fascinating to look at, but would still think twice about standing underneath for some reason...

Double Black

Even though I'm not back at work, for Coops' sake, short working weeks are great. Three days of work (for Coops, he hee) and we were back on the slopes at Mont Ste-Marie, just over an hour north of Ottawa. We had skied here early in the season, while I was still renting crappy skis with no edges, so I was keen to get back and measure my progress.

It was a little overcast, but a nice day for skiing - a little warmer than it had been despite Ottawa temperatures getting down to -32degC on Wednesday and Thursday. The forecast suggested that temperatures would soar to 10degC Monday and Tuesday with rain to melt the snow, so the slopes were packed with people making the most of the good snow and their last weekend before they were to once again to endure the routine of everyday.

We were 2nd in line when the lifts opened late at 8.45am, but first down the run that I refused to ski last time when the day's skiers had exposed huge sheets of ice which my rental skis just could not handle. This time - no problem at all. It was kind of exciting. I was gearing myself up for a perfect day where I would not fall over once. On about my 4th run I came to a quick halt and ended up on my elbow. I was prepared to discount this small incident, as it wasn't technically a ski-related fall, just me being inept at moving at such a reduced speed, something close to walking. However my spirits were buoyed later when my ski-guru boyfriend did exactly the same thing, although being much taller, he looked even more amusing.

After an early lunch Coops and I decided to head over to the other side of the mountains where we'd not yet skied. There were a few blue runs (intermediate), a green (easy) run to get back to the other side of the mountain (which was actually quite hard cause some of it went up hill) and several black runs for the crazy unbreakable people. In terms of signage for runs, I think Mont Ste Marie is quite bad. Some of the runs merge, but change difficulty level, but these are not indicated at the merge point. You need to have memorised the trail map, and then still interpret the arrows correctly at the top of the runs. Subsequently Coops led me down to a black cluster of runs, and then selected a double black as the easiest route off the hill to which I responded with a stare implying something like "have you taken leave of all faculties" to which he inevitably responded "Trust me".

With a terrible thought of having to walking off this hill - if it was to still be possible - in the back of my mind, we set off slowly. Coops still looking like an annoying little floating leaf on snow, and me looking like a sprinkler alarm had gone off in the top of my hood. "OK, this is OK" I'm thinking, not looking too far ahead, knowing that I think I can see the bottom of the run. About half way down, and still standing, I realise there seems to be a gap between the run at my feet, and the bottom of the run - there was no consistent continuance of solid snow that I could see. The run has just gone from steep to 'does this dip directly into Hell?!?'. Not only that, the angle of the slope meant that large patches of ice were being cleared by the skiers who actually had a right to be on that run, and I was to depend completely on the 2-3mm edges of metal on my skis to get my unskilled feet to safety.

Coops managed to lead me through a trail of slightly snow covered ice, but I was beginning to get shaky. When I was close enough to the bottom to just face down hill and slide like a bullet I tried to turn with gravity and lost in completely. I ended up sliding to the bottom on my belly like a home made sled, unable to stop on that gradient even if I wanted to. I was torn as to what to do with my emotions; I initially wanted to accuse Coops of trying to kill me and devise an appropriate and proportionate punishment, but it had just been so much damn fun sliding down that double black. Eventually I decided that my revenge would best be served cold... Sleep tight Coops, sleep tight.

New Year in Montreal

By the time we got from Jay to Montreal, Coops and I were desperate for a good coffee and an opportunity for a bit of French Taunting. Quebec is a funny place. There is no provincial requirement to post English anywhere other than Interstate signage, whereas most of Canada will post the French alongside English, even if the only difference in spelling is an accent on one of the letters, otherwise identical to the English, at the cost of goodness knows what. Quebec still want independence from Canada - perhaps they should ask to join the EU?

We found the apartment we had rented much closer to Downtown and the Latin Quarter than we had expected, so we headed out for some food and coffee immediately. A couple of double lattes later and the best grilled veggie sarnie I've ever had later and we were ready for anything.

Not surprisingly it had been snowing in Montreal also, and there were entertaining patches of ice all over the footpaths, causing impromptu dancing in the streets. But it was overcast and just a bit chilly when we arrived. The streets were as busy as you'd expect the week during the Boxing Day sales, so we wandered aimlessly though the throngs before heading back to the apartment to meet Coops' sister and her husband who were arriving that evening.

New Years eve day we woke up to a fresh new blanket of the white stuff which continued to thicken all day. We headed for the old town to wander the cobbled streets, but we kept finding ourselves being drawn to the cafes for hot chocolates and varying other warming beverages. It was very pretty, but we were driven underground, like the moles who apparently built the underground maze that Montreal is well know for. We didn't get very far before we were quite disorientated, so we surfaced once again and headed to the supermarkets for supplies before potential revellers sucked them dry. Interestingly, alcohol is cheaper in Quebec than Ontario. Which is a little annoying - who'd have thought the capital state would be so strict - I'm sure it would be the other way around in Canberra...

We headed out to our bar of choice, a small brewpub at about 4pm just to make sure we gt a seat. Unfortunately they were not staying open until the wee hours we'd hoped for, but were to close at 10pm, so we sampled their wares and wandered back to the apartment, stopping only for merriment and the more than occasional snow angel when a clean patch of snow was discovered - front fences or not...


Coops and I, Les 3 Brasseurs, New Years Eve.

The good cheer continued on until about 12.20pm, when I was the first to hit the hay. The fireworks down at the pier, partially visible from our 11th floor window were disappointing. It seems that Quebec's firework supply was predominantly usurped by Quebec City where they were celebrating their 400th anniversary. Oh well. Happy 2008!

There were few sore heads greeting us on the first day of 2008. Unfortunately this was still overshadowed by the imminent conclusion of the season's holidays. We were to drive back to Ottawa, but the snow was still falling heavily. As we headed out of town the snow increased and the wind picked up as our speed reduced. Visibility was bad. In some places it was a wild guess where the Interstate was, let alone any of the 3 lanes painted on it. The snow flew by in quite a horizontal manner as we inched our way along, hoping to catch a snowplough to follow and they way before us became clear. Despite the conditions there were relatively few cars that had lost control in the conditions.

We arrived back safely in Ottawa in about double the time it should have taken, but it was kind of exciting to have driven through such wild weather. I don't know that Coops would agree with me after having to drive it, but still... Even though the holiday has ended, the poor, poor French accents continue to amuse us as we reminisce about New Years in Montreal.

Jay Peak, Vermont USA

Vermont's has this prestige, which I think came from the rise of the movie star and their exclusive skiing holidays to Vermont. Coops and I decided to emulate this practise simply 'cause we could, darrrrrrling.

There's a couple of ways you can get there from Ottawa. You can head straight though Montreal and get there via Interstates pretty well the whole way, and takes about 3 or 4 hours, or you can head almost directly south to Cornwall and cross over the US border in New York State which takes about 5 hours. We decided we'd do both, so headed of in a southerly direction to catch some of the picturesque scenery on the way. It was pretty overcast, and by the time we hit Vermont we had passed several frozen lakes and rivers, and it had started to snow. This in itself was fine, except we got stuck behind an older car who was obviously not prepared for the slippery conditions and quickly built up a line of cars behind, as it fishtailed its way up and down the hills. Thankfully they didn't stop completely, or there might have been a few cars stuck where they stopped, us included.

We were headed for the town of Troy, just 10miles south east of Jay Peak, where we were to spend a few days skiing 'real hills'. The difficulty in picking B&B's from the internet is you never know who the hell you're going to end up with as hosts. We arrived at the Riverbend B&B to meet Jim. Jim was a one syllable kind of Vermontian, who only spoke when spoken to and appeared to vehemently object to any conversation outside the necessary. Unfortunately I had to inform him upon our arrival that we were not only here, but the car following us up the driveway had taken it to quick and had ended up in the ditch next to the driveway. This seemed to impress him to no end, but he was polite about it...

Over the course of out 3 night stay in a room adorned with portraits of the US Presidents, I would come to love Jim, once I met Paul that is, the actual owner. We met Paul one night by the fire. Paul was unshaven and fairly uncouth. Initially thinking he was another guest and best to be avoided, he introduced himself as the owner of the place, and asked us our names. Three minutes later he asked our names again, then proceeded to thrust supper on us of his own home made broth complete with chunks of potato and unidentified meat, which I wasn't quite game to identify. Being the polite people that we are, we made the best of it, but this only seemed to encourage his stifling hospitality as he insisted on seconds, despite our protests of a late lunch and no plans at all for dinner. We ended up walking out of the room with full plates in front of us and some excuse about getting up early to hit the slopes. But not before he had asked us for a third time what our names were, which he never muttered anyway through the duration of our stay. Thankfully by breakfast our beloved Jim was back at the helm, and I was able to momentarily way-lay my uncomfortableness, and slight suspicion that there might be eye holes behind some of the ex-presidents.

Jay Peak is a pretty huge hill. It has 2 peaks accommodating 76 trails. Its well known for its glade skiing - you know, the stuff through the trees where the crazy people go. The longest trail is 3 miles, which is pretty tiring when you're freaking out about control like I still am. But that wasn't the hardest part. The hardest part was the reduced visibility to approximately 6-8m. Now for someone like me, that's a little scary. When you can only just make out the chair on the lift in front of you, I'm not all that keen. When the wind picks up as you approach the summit and feels like it's going to pull your skis off your feet as the lift chair dips, I'm not all that keen. When you can only see the black runs as you head up for your first run, I'm not all that keen. But when you hit the powder and its light and fluffy and it doesn't hurt to fall down, I'm in.

Day 1 for me was all about getting used to not being able to see what I was doing. It was windy and foggy, and I just couldn't quite get into it, despite some really nice long blue runs that weren't causing me too many problems. I was even getting used to the even increasing lumps on the runs as the day wore on, and picking the newly exposed sheets of ice from those pesky snowboarder. But we couldn't see clearly off the mountain until late in the afternoon, and even then only for roughly 10 minutes (only during one run really) when the clouds lifted and I actually realised that I had only been skiing about half the width of the run.

Our second day of skiing was much nicer, in some ways. We'd not spotted our eccentric host back at the B&B for another night, and the clouds had lifted enough that we got a really nice view from pretty much anywhere on the mountain. The wind was still blowing so much that it would either hurtle you down the slopes, or prevent you from moving more than snails pace, and was whipping the snow across the ground so fast that it looked as though your feet disappeared almost up to your knees into a layer of dry ice.

It was cold, but not as cold Day 1, or some of nights we've been skiing just outside Ottawa. I was enjoying the nice long chair lift rides - when it was clear you could see the environment changes in the trees below you, from the twiggy trees to the hard core alpine pines caked in snow and ice. You could feel the distinction when you cleared a wind hill about two thirds of the way up on the lifts. I would just sit there and freeze. It did start to snow at one point and I could still feel it hit my face through my mask.

Looks nice? Yeah, check out the minimum gear required: I know its hard to tell, but please note the pine tree in the back ground completely covered in ice. And no, they do not have a snow maker just out of frame - its all natural snow on the summit at Jay!



Despite the beautiful countryside, Vermont struck me as quite a backwards place. Sure, there's B&B's on every corner, but its not the thriving tourist metropolis that you might expect. Jay Peaks promotional magazine even implies that there's nothing here but ski-runs, and for those who want a vacation with a bit of skiing thrown in, Jay's probably not for them. Its kind of refreshing in a way, until you want a decent coffee... Now without meaning to suggest that Starbucks is a good coffee, I was pleased to hear that there are only 5 of these places in Vermont. I think that endeared the place to me even more, as I continued to scour the 3 buildings constituting towns for a local cafe or bakery. I'd suggest you b.y.o. coffee.

Photos courtesy of Coops - I can't guarantee not falling over yet to enable me to carry a camera...

Chicagmas

The 20th of December is apparently the busiest travel day in Canada and the USA. I don't quite know what we were thinking when booking tickets to fly anywhere in North America during winter... Were we trying to outsmart the elements by trying to fly the 21st? Poor visibility in Chicago mean that our 7.21pm flight was cancelled. Our potentially stupid idea to head out to the airport anyway turned out to be rather lucky as we threw politely controlled hissy fits and got on an earlier flight due to depart at 6.20pm. Unfortunately this flight was delayed until 9pm roughly anyway. We later found out that our original re-allocation on a later flight (8am on the 22nd) would have seen us sitting at Ottawa International all day, and probably sleeping there for a ripping good Saturday night, as they shut down over 200 flights coming into Chicago due to bad weather... But we got there, all be it about midnight before we crawled into bed in the heart of the city, first lesson learnt.

Lets see, Saturday morning - the Saturday before Christmas, in a new and vibrant city. What else was there to do but stroll the Magnificent Mile with x-thousand other Chicagans. Our hotel was right in the thick of things so we wandered out for breakfast, past the Museum of Contemporary Art (those of you Ferris Bueller fans may recall) and straight up Michigan Avenue. It was foggy and cold, but at least it wasn't raining! And I think Coops did more shopping than me that day.

Sunday was a late start. With no real plans, breakfast was high on the agenda. Then I guess more wandering. The weather was continually uninspiring. I'm not normally one to go with the cliche's, but Chicago really was the windiest city I have ever come across. It was not that cold out, until you hit one of the wind tunnels between the towering buildings and then it was chilling to the bone. At one point I did not use my God-given internal muscular-skeletal system to hold me up, but relied heavily on the constant force of the wind to maintain my upright posture.

We eventually made our way to the Christmas markets, full of Christmas goodies, but it was only the warming properties of the German Gluwein mulled wine that tempted me. Well, that and the souvenir booty they served it in. Incidentally the market was just outside the Earnest Wacker Building. Name not ringing a bell? It was the 'hup, hup, hup' building the Feds scaled in the Blues Brothers movie. Later we were to stroll Wacker Drive where the infamous brothers screamed down just before crashing through the mall that we were later not to find...

I was anxious to get up to the John Hancock Centre where you could head up to the 96th floor bar for a drink and a free view of the city, just 7 floors less than the famous view from the Sears tower to check whether visibility was worth the $14.95 admission to the Sears Skydeck which is crazily one of those 'must see' things to do in Chicago. Unfortunately such logic did not win out against a relatively short time frame vs luck with weather equation, and the subsequent cloudy view was disappointing to say the least.

Although, I gotta say, from the streets, the fog was kinda cool. You couldn't tell how high the buildings actually were. And it seemed to suit the city. The trees were bare, but tinkling with the fairy lights tangled throughout their branches. There were a few patches of snow, but alas it was not to be the white Christmas we had hoped for. It was enough knowing that I had left a white Christmas back in Ottawa. After the disappointing view from the Sears tower the fog cleared up slightly, and we headed for the Hancock Centre anyway, where we got a slightly better view:

The John Hancock Centre: view from the street and 96th floor bar - not on the same day...

On Christmas Eve we encountered the most curious squirrel I think I have ever seen. It ran from its tree about 5m away (usually the closest you can get to the jumpy little fellas) to about 1m in front of us. For a brief moment I was haunted by the story of a friend of mine who told me that a squirrel once ran up their leg, and may or may not potentially be infected with some crazy banquet of germs that I would rather not have been recalling at the time, and was getting prepared to impersonate something I hoped would scare the acorns out of him.

Navy Pier, another of those 'must see' spots that isn't really a must see now that its over run with cheap souvenir dispensers and fast food chains, was a brisk walk through Millennium Park, past the frozen foreshore of Lake Michigan:

A cheeky pose for a photo, and we were headed back in the direction of the Magnificent Mile. Being Christmas eve, we headed in the direction of merriment in refreshment form. Most places had closed for the holiday, so we ended up with a small stash of Christmas ale back at the hotel room. There was no fridge, but the temperature outside was cold enough to store it outside the window, albeit with an amusing retrieval system requiring a delicate balancing act between enthusiastic reach, bum up in the air and flailing feet on a flimsy window frame.

Christmas day was a magnificent gastronomical feast at the Hilton's restaurant. I started with slivers of smoked salmon and trout, succulent prawn, four flavours of caviar, and some cleansing salad. Second course was roast haddock, Cock Du Vin, roast lamb, Al gratin potatoes and roast vegetables. Third course possibly involved roast beef and other treats, possibly starting to be masked by my bottomless champagne, then there was individual desserts; tantalising trifle, cookies and cream pudding, tri-color and flavour jelly, creme brule and some cheese crammed into the last remaining gaps. It was a truly great meal, but alas, it didn't feel like Christmas - I had far to many layers of clothes on.

Someone suggested a nice, long, digesting walk after our gorging session. It was not as quiet on the streets as I had expected. Unfortunately Chicago is one of those cities that has a high number of homeless folk. We headed out past one soul who was clearly trying to drown his Christmas sorrows, and on the way back found him lying in a pool of vomit, surrounded by a group of people keeping him awake by singing carols - hopefully waiting for help. It makes you feel pretty lucky; even though I'm thousands of miles from home, I still get to spend it with friends with plenty of food and a warm place to sleep at the end of the day, and a controlled amount of beer outside the window.

Thankfully by Boxing day (which is curiously not recognised in the States) all air traffic had returned to normal, so we flew out without incident. Back in Ottawa there was still plenty of snow, which boded well for the next chapter of our holiday.