The Trees

Canada has no shortage of trees (their finest rock band, Rush, even sang a song about them), but the locals still campaign hard to keep the loggers at bay from those they think are special. Which includes those on today's kayaking destination, Meares Island (7 km by kayak from Tofino, where we're staying). Apparently loggers had the whole place in their sights, but a groundbreaking 1980s campaign dissuaded them and was the start of a far greater emphasis on conservation. The benefits can be seen everywhere; Bald Eagles are common as muck, and this has been the finest year for salmon fishing that anyone here can remember.

It's ironic that one of the trees the conservationsists were trying to preserve was the Sitka Spruce, a native of western Canada, but better known in Scotland as the centrepiece of lots of ugly forestry. Even there the worst excesses are in the past, but I don't see anyone mounting campaigns to save them, as they're doing here!

With no human interference, Meares Island is covered in thick temperate rain forest. Not ideal walking territory, potentially rather harder than kayaking in fact, even though today was my first attempt at the latter since my teens. There were some alarming thunderclaps while we were out on the water, but the local sounds, channels and inlets were all flat and still except for motorboat wakes, and you would have to paddle appallingly to capsize the kayaks. Even Alan managed to stay dry.

Talking of intrepid sailors, I also had another encounter with my old pal Captain Cook in Victoria, the capital of Vancouver Island. Yet another coastline he touched on his travels, and everywhere he visited seems impelled to raise a statue to him.

2 more nights here, 2 more nights somewhere between here and Vancouver (we haven't yet decided where), 3 more nights in The World's Most Livable City (per this year's survey in the Economist) and then home. Whether I want to be returning to a country that can concede 4 goals to Norway is a question I'm still pondering.

Doon the watter...

...on an inflatable raft, to the constant accompaniment of "WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!!!" from one of my fellow crewmembers. And as certain rocks approached, I thought she might be right, especially with turkey vultures hovering overhead, looking like they felt lunch was just a matter of time. But these rafts are deceptively robust, even when stuck on the rocks. We mislaid an oarsman at one point, and his name was Mackenzie, but I'm evilly delighted to say this was Alan rather than me, and nothing hurt but his pride.

This was about 3 hours upriver from Vancouver, and in lovely conditions, but today we're going in the opposite direction, across to Vancouver island, where I hope to see the sun again. Vancouver is soaking today (the weather gods must have heard us discussing a game of golf), and even when dry, has been grey and hazy throughout our stay. I can tell there are impressive mountains nearby, but it's hard to get excited about them when all I can see are fuzzy silhouettes. But this means temperatures are ideal for walking and cycling in town, especially in Stanley Park where the tourists tend to congregate. And it's ideal for homeless people - apparently in Canada they tend to congregate here as it's the one city with a year-round climate where it's more or less comfortable to be homeless.

Mr Mackenzie, I presume?

Vancouver, less than 2 weeks to go, and at last I've met my ideal travelling soulmate. Able to share my appreciation of unchilled ale, debate the relative merits of Buffy and Doctor Who, and join me in deploring American pronunciation ("there's no such thing as 'aluminum'!") And an even more pathetic excuse for a suntan than mine. Yes, my brother Alan is in town. Only drawbacks are having to listen to his sleeptalking and indulge his enthusiasm for culinary experimentation - tonight's vegetarian restaurant has gone down in the 'learning experience' file.

Our couchsurf host Rain (pictured with us - as usual, the level of hospitality goes way beyond what we've any right to expect) exposed us to more culinary experiments at what must be about the world's biggest ice cream parlour. I don't think we're ready for wasabi, garlic or curry flavours, and I'm sure these and many others are produced for the shock value - having sampled them I can't imagine anyone actually ordering a full cone of the stuff. But with over 200 other flavours there's no shortage of palatable alternatives.

Sleepy in Seattle

Yesterday started at 6:15am waiting for bus, and finished about 2am in a spartan club a few blocks from current home, the Green Tortoise hostel. Had to celebrate last night in US. So not much energy today. Hope the bus to Vancouver doesn't pass too many amazing views, because chances are I'm going to sleep through them. And hope my brother Alan doesn't want a big night to celebrate his arrival in Vancouver, though after flight from UK, not too likely.

Early start was for tour of Mount Rainier National Park. Usual mix of short walks, photo opportunities, and waterfalls that might have impressed in the spring but after an unusually hot summer, look weedy now. Tour was excellent, featuring by far the best guide I've had for one of these things. The mountain is a picture perfect volcanic peak, though the Park is full of reminders of how dangerous it could be if it blows its top a la nearby Mount St Helens 30 years ago.

This is the furthest from town I've managed in Seattle. Partly due to hospitality of most recent couchsurf hosts, there's been lots to do here. One favourite was the laser dome where we saw a midnight light show to backing music of Pink Floyd. This and several other tourist attractions stand in the shadow of Seattle's signature building, the Space Needle. My Mum told me the other day she was here in 1962 for the World Fair, the event for which the needle was built - this impresses the locals! All cities should have a building like this. Excellent for navigation; as long as you can see the Needle you can find your way back to your hostel.

As the home of Boeing, Seattle is aircraft-crazy. Two huge museums on the subject, including an ex-Air Force One and one of the remaining Concordes (which has horrible grey decor; not surprised they couldn't find enough people willing to pay several thousand to cross the Atlantic like this latterly - but externally it's still by far the coolest machine I've ever seen). Plus several days of displays by the Blue Angels air display team (pictured) as part of the Seattle Seafair festival.

View from the top...

...is mainly a view of other people. Huge numbers climb Half Dome in Yosemite (pictured from nearby Glacier Point), and they spend lots of time on the summit. Not surprising, the views are amazing, and it's a great place to sunbathe. Plus everyone's shattered by the temperatures, the climb (4,800 feet) and especially the last few hundred feet, for which you have to pull yourself up cables.

There's an assumption that, being a litigious society, America is very safety conscious, except where guns are concerned. This isn't the case at the top of Half Dome. The cables are old, the posts they're attached to rattle alarmingly, and if you lost your grip on the cable, especially at the point where it starts to traverse across the slope, you'd reach terminal velocity long before anything stopped you. That said, there were no fatalities for 80 years, until 2006, but a few since, perhaps because the walkway is getting worn and shiny. Granite grips shoes well everywhere else. Some climbers make it look easy, a few others come prepared and clip themselves to the cable which makes it much safer, but I had my heart in my mouth watching a clearly scared 10 year old girl pulling herself up without them.

I asked a ranger about all this when I got down, and was told (a) that it's the wilderness and it's meant to be dangerous, they seem almost proud of it, the park bookshop has a book describing in ghoulish detail all the deaths-by-misadventure that have occurred in Yosemite's history; and (b) that because National Parks are federally administered it practically takes an Act of Congress to change anything about how they're run. I can think of several easy ways to make this cable ascent safer, given the numbers climbing it I'm amazed this isn't an issue.

Discarding your pack for the cable climb is one way to make life easier, but has its own risks. The local squirrels know all about this trick, and as soon as the owners leave they either burrow into the packs or just bite their way through them in search of grub. Several of my fellow climbers were in for a shock when they got back to their packs.

The descent was perhaps even tougher, because by then it was afternoon (I started at 7:30am, when temperatures are pleasant), and I was descending into the 100 degree valley floor. I took lots of water but had long since exhausted it when I got back to the highest drinking fountain, never been so glad to see one.

Felt I'd earned a lazy day after this, so have so far spent it in the spa at the Midpines hostel, where I'm staying. Back to San Francisco tomorrow, flying to Seattle the day after.

Regrets - I've had a few...

...but then again, too few to get het up about. But lest anyone thinks this trip has been as smooth as a baby's bottom (which is more than can be said for my bottom), here's a few moments when it wasn't:

- Lost or stolen camera (Melbourne) : Looks like I'll have to rely on my memory for the last few days in Tasmania and Melbourne.
- Accidental deletion of several days photos (New Zealand): And the same goes for my time on the Queen Charlotte Track and near Nelson in the South Island. Still not sure what button I pressed, still grumpy about the result.
- $300 car damage (NZ): Apparently only about 1 in 25 people take the accidental damage insurance from car rental companies. I'm one of the 24, which bit me in NZ when something wooden fell off a moving timber truck, and demolished the mirror on the driver's door of my hire car.
- Badly fitting flippers on my diving course, and failure to take protective measures. I had spectacular blisters, especially on the upper part of the balls of my feet for a couple of weeks afterwards, which made walking, or just wearing shoes come to that, very uncomfortable.
- Walking into wall: Happened while trying to find toilet in darkness in unfamiliar house. Embarrassing swelling on forehead for several days.
- Flight from Oahu to Big Island, Hawaii: This flight takes its passengers along the south coast of 3 big islands, past beaches, volcanoes and other fantastic scenery, all visible if you sit on the left of the plane. I sat on the right, from where you can see the Pacific Ocean.
- Theft of t-shirt from washing line in Cairns: This was my black one with a picture of George Best above his most famous quote about how he spent his money. Acted as an ice-breaker in several hostels and hostelries. People tended to assume I was Irish, but this isn't always a bad thing.
- Eating paua (Local NZ Shellfish) in Thai restaurant in Kaikoura: The shells are beautiful when polished. The contents are rubbery, gritty and bitter, and should be discarded, not cooked.
- Oedipus Rex by awful local theatre company in Darwin: I resent the fact that I'll never get those 2 wasted hours back!

Another regret is making definitive statements on my blog which turn out to be nonsense, such as "I'm not going to Yosemite in temperatures over 90". It topped 100 today, but I've come anyway, too many people in San Francisco said I couldn't afford to miss it. And while hiking's very hard work (4 miles on the flat left me shattered), the park is so well organised and gorgeous that I can forgive. Though even Yosemite has its bad moments. The photo shows Mount Watkins (one of many stunning lumps of granite) in the background, and shattered trees and rubble in the foreground cause by a major rockfall a couple of months back. The damage these can cause is impressive, the relevant path is impassable for the foreseeable future.

Hiking is essential to avoid the crowds in Yosemite, but California has state parks as well as national parks. I visited Pacheco park (http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=560) on the way here. 7000 acres, 28 miles of trails (I covered about 6 of them), beautiful scenery (not as dramatic as Yosemite, but what is?) perfect walking conditions (it's close enough to the coast that the temperatures are bearable) and I was the only person in the whole park. Or at least I saw no one else and there were no other cars parked, which is all the evidence needed in the US.

ARE YOU READY TO ROCK??!!

This could refer to Alcatraz - 'The Rock' - which is the most popular tourist attraction in San Francisco. I was there on Monday (am I the 1st Scotsman pictured in one of these cells since Sean Connery in the film "The Rock"?), but I'm really blogging about the once-mighty Blue Oyster Cult, who I saw in action at a non-descript nightclub the same evening. It was one of these crusty ugly audiences I seem to specialise in these days (see also Rush, Australian Pink Floyd and Richard Thomson, and apologies to anyone who was at those gigs with me), and it's easy to see why BOC are playing clubs while some of their contemporaries are still filling stadiums. Only 2 original members, both of whom look embarrassed about the whole process - they're probably respectable husbands and fathers in real life. The lead singer finished the evening with injunctions to drive home safely and take no drugs - not very rock and roll. And not much inspiration about the music, the original BOC sounded a lot more distinctive, this was just generic dadrock. From a selfish point of view, disappointing they played no songs from the 2 albums I know and like, apart from their only big hit Don't Fear the Reaper because there'd be a riot if they didn't play it. But still glad we went - I need a fix of this stuff occasionally!