Mountains and Cities by the Pacific

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Rewind back to early december and I flew down to the South Island of New Zealand for a week. The south island is very different from the north island, being almost completely encompassed with huge snow covered mountains. A week, wasnt really enough time to explore, but I'd specifically booked only a week because of my need to get myself to Canada before the end of january 2009, which was fast approaching.

From Auckland I flew and hour and a half south to Christchurch, the main city in the south. Because I'd only got a week I'd pretty much planned out where I was going and when, at least booking all my bus journeys. So I only had the afternoon, and night in Christchurch. It's supposed to be the most english of New Zealand's cities but only in a kind of rose tinted view of England. The city is set on a meandering river called, the Avon which winds through parks and under small bridges through the middle of the city.

When I arrived I hadnt booked a hostel, so I got a bus into the city and wandered around looking for one, with at first no luck at all. The first place looked really nice but was quite a walk, and when I arrived there I found it was completely booked up. The second place wasnt even open anymore, I arrived at the front door to find it overgrown and a sense that the whole building had been abandoned years before. Finally the third place was open and had space, which was good as I was getting fed up with carrying my two bags all around the streets of Christchurch, you see by now my belongings have increased from one reasonably empty large backpack, that I managed to keep that size for most of asia, to two extremely heavy backpacks, one on my front and one on my back, that I now have had to carry all over New Zealand, and western America.

I did very little in Christchurch, wandered around, had some dinner, and went to bed early, as I had an early bus up to Arthurs Pass the next day, plus possibly a long day walk up a mountain and back down.

So the next morning I got an early bus from Christchurch up into the mountains, to Arthurs Pass. The change in scenary from Christchurch on the flat Canterbury plain, up into the Southern Alpes is pretty impressive and made even more so by the way the flat gives way to the mountains almost instantly. One moment flat farmland surrounds you, then suddenly a range of mountains just appears and then you're right in them. At Arthurs pass, I had only a day there, so I wanted to head up a one day trek called, Avalanche peak. It's a very impressive walk but also quite hard on the legs as the first 3 hours are continually uphill, then you reach the top, pause and then back down another route which is almost as steep.

At the top the views were amazing, you could see snow covered mountains for miles around. Also at the top were a huge amount of Keas. The Kea is the worlds only Alpine parrot, and is a very strange bird. Its quite large, with colourful, but almost furry feathers, and a continual cheeky quest for food, which means it has been known to do all sorts of damage to things. Including pulling windscreen wipers and ariels off cars.

There was a massive flock of them at the top all asking people, that had made the trek, for a bite to eat. Amazingly tame, at one point I was sat eating a choclate bar and looked around to find 6 or 7 of them surrounding me asking for some. Then when my back was turned one managed to get its beak in between the two zips of my rucksack and was busy looking hard for more food in there.

After a while admiring the views and the incredibly intelligent birds, I headed back down to Arthurs Pass in the valley. The next day from Arthur's Pass I headed over to the west coast and Franz Josef Glacier. The minute I got to the western side of the mountains it started raining and it didnt stop until I got to Queenstown a couple of days later, its not nicknamed the wet coast for nothing.

Franz Josef Glacier is one of two glaciers on the west coast of New Zealand which are the fastest flowing glaciers in the world. So fast that they almost make it from the mountain tops down to the sea. It's set in a huge tree covered valley where a big wall of ice seems to flow round the corner like a kind of ice river. It was all pretty impressive.

After a night at Franz Josef I continued down the coast and then back inland to Queenstown, the South Islands main resort town. Queenstown is the place where you can ski, bungee jump, canyon swing, skydive, etc. In fact if you can think of any adrenaline based activity that you can't do in Queenstown, you're probably best off setting yourself up in business there. The amount of activities all over New Zealand where people seemed to just take a random idea and go with it is huge, but Queenstown is without a doubt the capital. One activity that they don't do in Queenstown, but is a brilliant example of these mad ideas, is Zorbing. You can only do zorbing at Rotorua on the North Island, but its idea is very simple and slightly strange. It must have been started based on a conversation that went something like this: "Hey what if, we put people inside a giant inflatable ball and then rolled it down a hill!!???", "Yeah, that sounds like a great idea, and you know what, we could let them chose whether they want water in the ball with them or not.", "Yeah that sounds like a plan, let's do it!"

So in Queenstown I managed to avoid all of those activites in fact the most adreneline I used was to help me walk up another mountain and back. Not very exciting, but most of those activities arent for me at all, except I am slightly tempted by the idea of doing a sky dive except at a cost of about $200 and up it was well out of my budget. Apart from all the activities, Queenstown is blessed with an amazing setting, set on a huge lake surrounded by snow covered peaks. The view from the top of Ben Lomand, the mountain I walked up on my first day was breath taking, to the north lay hundreds of snow covered peaks, apparently you can see mount cook on a clear day. Below me to the south was Queenstown and its lake that bends 3 times between all the different mountain ranges.

On my second day I had a day trip to Milford Sound, which was well worth the long day and early morning, even if the mist at Milford Sound obscured the mountain tops. From Queenstown the bus drove us on the four hour journey to Milford sound, on the way we stopped at various places with amazing views of the mountains and lakes. As we got nearer the scenary got extremely rugged, with huge mountains soaring up from the roadside almost vertically to snow covered peaks. Then we arrived at Milford Sound itself, which was even more impressive with a narrow fjord squeezing its way between the huge peaks. Unfortunately I couldnt see the peak of the most impressive mountain, Mitre Peak as the top was obscurred in cloud.

From the cruise station at the end of the sound we took a boat trip all the way along the fjord to the sea and then back, the scenary was stunning all the way, and we even saw seals, chilling out on the rocks on the way back. After the boat trip we headed back to Queenstown.

From Queenstown I got a bus back to Christchurch the next day ready to get my flights via Auckland to LA. The saturday was another day spent in an airport, I had almost 8 hours between landing from Christchurch and leaving to go to LA, that, followed by my longest flight this year.

After 12 hours I landed in LA on the saturday morning, having left Auckland saturday evening!!?! However having the same day twice wasnt that great as most of the time was spent on a plane, but hey I was a whole day younger suddenly... wasnt I??

Anyway at LA I went through US immigration which, after all the hassle Air New Zealand had put me through making sure I had printouts of accomadation in the US, and my flights in and out of the country, was plain sailing. The guy, just said "You've been to a lot of countries this year havent you?.... Welcome to the US!" and stamped my passport not asking for any documentation, just asking for all my fingerprints and photos instead.

Once through the airport I decided to take the LA metro to my hostel in Hollywood. Will I ever learn, that sometimes a taxi saves a lot of time and hassle. I think my 3 line metro journey took nearly two hours, and the second line took me right through part of south central LA. Everywhere it stopped, there were people looking like gang members hanging around on street corners and some of these people were getting on the train. In fact a couple of times almost every person on the train looked like some kind of gangster, although I'm sure half of them only dress like that for fashion, nothing else. Once we got to the downtown area, and I changed onto the Hollywood line the train became more like the tube and a mixture of all types of people.

The other problem with me getting the metro, was I didnt know which stop to get off at, I had the hostel address, which was on Hollywood boulevard, but as I found out, that's a long road, and there are about 4 spaced out metro stops along it. On a gut instinct I finally got out at Hollywood and Highland, went up the street, and found out I was about 1300 buildings too far along the road, but I figured it cant be that far so I walked back to the hostel, which it turned out was halfway between the two previous stops!

So I spent 4 days in LA, and I had to agree with most people's opinions of the place, it was really strange and bit rundown. Even Hollywood in reality lacked a certain sparkle, and some of the stars homes werent actually that big at all.

The whole city was really designed for the car, and even though I used the buses a bit, and the metro to go between Hollywood and downtown, it took so much longer to get from A to B than by private car. One of the days I went into the downtown, which is a little like a skyscrapered ghost town. The area has loads of highrise buildings but on street level, was nothing, no shops, no people, it was just like a ghost town. Near downtown however was Chinatown, which certainly had more life, and El Pueblo De Los Angeles, which is supposedly a restored version of the original spanish settlement that eventually grew to become LA. El Pueblo was like a little Mexican town and was full of life, it had loads of people and street music, and loads of little cantinas and the like, and of course wall to wall souvenier shops.

On another day in LA I paid for a city tour, that took in all the usual sights, the Hollywood Hills, Hollywood, the homes of the stars, Beverly Hills, Santa Monica, and Venice beach. The best place of all of those was actually Santa Monica, which was the only part of LA that seemed like a normal city, with a city centre, and shops on the street, etc.

So after 4 days in LA, on christmas eve I picked up a hire car to drive me to Death Valley and Vegas, and have a mini american road trip. Driving on the wrong side of the road in the US actually proved easier than I thought, although admittedly I never seemed to know what the speed limit was as it changes so much. American cars, and driving seem to be designed for the least amount of effort, hey, they cant even be bothered to change gear or use their clutch foot, as everythings automatic.

The style of driving is even different from everywhere else in the world, they seem to sit back and just cruise along, no rushing up to the lights and breaking hard, then speeding off when it goes green. This cruising along can prove particularly annoying for pedestrians trying to cross the road as all the cars are spaced out, and never seem to bunch up leaving gaps. In fact they have a very different relationship cars and pedestrians, American drivers get very nervous if you're in the road, and nowhere near a crossing. At one point me and an aussie guy were crossing Hollywood boulevard outside the LA hostel, and stopped in the middle waiting for 2 cars coming the other way to pass, when they both stopped and waited for us to cross in front of them, and when I looked at the two drivers they didnt look too pleased at stopping at all.

So after I picked up the car I actually managed to navigate LAs freeways relatively easily, it seems the secret is stay in a middle lane and keep an eye on all the signs warning you of any possible exits you might need. I made not one mistake getting from downtown back to the hostel in Hollywood, then out east past the city to hit the I-15 to head out to Vegas. The one thing that really did amaze me about LAs freeways was, the terrible condition they were in. They've got really old and are full of potholes and patches, something you rarely see on motorways at home.

Once out of the LA basin I crossed through the San Bernadino mountains and out into the Mojave desert, which was a stunning looking place. A huge open desert with the odd mountain or two punctuating the area. At Baker, near the Nevada border, I had to turn off the interstate, and this is where I had my only wrong side of the road moment. As I came up the slip road to the stop sign, I went to turn left and drive on the left side of the road. But, luckily as I looked to see if it was clear, I suddenly saw a car coming towards me on my left side of the road, and realised what I was doing. From Baker I had to drive about 50 miles north on an empty 2 lane road through the desolate landscape. Finally as it was starting to get dark, I found the little hostel I was going to spend christmas in, in the town of Tecopa.

The lady at reception was really helpful, and told me they would be having christmas dinner the next day at the other sight a few miles down the road, and that I could have breakfast there too, and if I wanted to get any supplies for the next two days, to go over to the next town to the petrol station tonight before everything was closed up.

That night in the hostel, I met a couple in their 40s from Nottingham, who are huge bikers. Since last year they've started making once or twice a year trips over to the states to bike around. They've even bought themselves a bike that they keep there as its cheaper and easier than shipping one of their millions of bikes in the UK across. They were a really interesting pair and had loads of stories both about biking in the US, and even just biking back at home in England.

So on Christmas day, I didnt do a huge amount early on, I attempted to drive into Death Valley, but a combination of the weather, the huge price, and the long drive stopped me going past the edge of the national park. Because of stopping a couple of times, to get out and look at the scenary, on the drive over there, by the time I got to the edge of the national park it was 2 o'clock and starting to rain, then I saw the price, 20 dollars to enter with your own vehicle. That was the final straw that made me decide to start the hour and a half drive back, as dinner was at 5 so I would've only had an hour at the most in the park.

Christmas dinner was really nice and a little different, it seems that only 3 people from the hostel came to the dinner, and the other 7 or so people were all locals from the town who didnt have anything laid on so had come to this. So I ended up having christmas dinner with a load of small town Americans, most of them had lived in the area for years, although none of them were originally from there, and its proximity to Las Vegas meant that many of them had lived and worked in Vegas when they were younger. For the meal we had turkey and various veg, and for pudding had both sweet potatoe pie, and a cake which were both good.

So after christmas on Boxing day the plan was to have breakfast then head over to Vegas. It appeared there was a short cut on back roads to Vegas, and it was only a little over an hours drive. However there was a little drama to be had before breakfast. In the morning I woke up to find the car had completely frosted over and the ground was a little icey, it amazed me that it was cold enough to frost, but that's what had happened. So as I drive over to the other place where we had breakfasts and dinner, I managed to have a little mishap. The drive from the public road down to the other guesthouse was on a gravel track that at one point winds down through some small 20 foot high cliffs before coming out at the guesthouse. Well at one of these bends I managed to slip on the ice and get the cars front stuck in a pile of gravel on the side of the road.

I tried various things but couldn't get it out, both front wheels were just spinning. So then a car was coming the other way, with an old woman and her teenage granddaughter, they immediately stopped to help. The old woman got in the car, and me and her granddaughter tried to push it out, but no luck. Then they said they'd drive me back to the guesthouse, and I could maybe get someone else to help pull it out with a truck or something. It seemed amazing that it was so stuck, because so little of it was off the roadway.

So I went down to the guesthouse, thanked them, and asked the lady that ran the place. She told me that two workman were there that morning to cut down some trees, so they'll be able to help. She went and found them, they were an older guy in his 50s or 60s and a younger guy about my age. We drove back to my car and tried to pull it out with the truck, but no luck. So then, they went and got a huge dumper truck, from by near the guesthouse, and this one worked a treat, pulling the car out. I checked the car over and found I'd cracked the bumper but no other issues, and thankfully when I took the car back I found that my insurance covered that so I owed them nothing for a new bumper. The insurance seemed to cover me for any damage to the car at all, so why we needed to note scratches on it when I hired it I don't know, as it was all covered.

So after breakfast and my little misshap, I drove from Tecopa, across the desert, then through a small range of mountains, and down to Las Vegas. On the road down from the mountains, it had caution ice signs everywhere and after the mornings events I was particularly cautious, but the car being automatic, I had no control over slowing it down apart from braking, which is the last thing I really wanted to do on ice.

So I arrived in Vegas, checked into my hostel, and then went out to drive down the famous strip, except driving was the one thing it was almost impossible to do, as the traffic was a nightmare, it took me as long to drive down the strip, as it later did to walk down the strip. It appeared although christmas itself is a quiet time in Vegas, the weekend after is one of its busiest. As proved a few days later with my drive back to LA, I think all of Southern California was visiting Vegas that weekend.

I wasnt really that enthusiastic about going to Las Vegas, but lots of people said, if you're nearby you have to visit as it is such a unique place, and this proved to be correct. The hotels are proof that people have just thought of the zaniest things they could and then built them as a hotel. Ones that spring mind include, The Venetian, which had an indoor shopping centre modeled on the Grand canel in Venice, complete with a sky blue ceiling that gives you the impression that you are almost outside. Another was, The Paris, which had a huge scale model of the Eiffel tower out front, and New York, New York, which not only had a huge model of all New Yorks famous buildings, but also a rollercoaster that went in and out of all the skyscrapers.

In the evening the hostel laid on a limo tour of the city, followed by free entry into a nightclub, for just 20 bucks. It was certainly different, and a good night was had by all. The next day I went out with a huge group of aussies to a couple of casinos, but managed to not play a single game, just drank ridiculously cheap cocktails instead. I must be the only person to go to Vegas and not even put a cent down on anything!!

So after my two days in Vegas, I drove back to LA, and so did the rest of LA, or so it seemed. The trip took nearly 7 hours as the traffic was atrocious all the way up until I got to the edge of LA, then it eased up a bit, which was surprising!

I spent one more night back in LA then in the morning, took the car back, and headed over to Union Station to pick up a train to san Francisco. The train journey was pretty slow, and picturesque for much of the journey, at first it followed the Pacific coast about half the way, then headed across a range of mountains inland. I chatted to a few people on the train, who as usual in America, seemed amazed that I wasnt American. Several times during my time in the states, my Englishness, has led me into long conversations with people who seem amazed by this fact.

On the train journey, people particularly wanted to know how their trains compared to ours, and I think they couldnt beleive that ours were worse. On their Amtrak trains, you're garenteed a seat, which all have plenty of leg room, and the trains are spacious with lots of amenities.

In the evening the train reached Oakland, where I had to transfer to a bus to connect me with San Francisco. Once there I had to walk a mile to my hostel and check in.

So I spent a week in San Francisco over the new year, and San Francisco was a pretty amazing place, certainly one of my favourite cities in North America, not that I've been to too many yet. The central area was quite small and walkable, even if you do have to take all the hills into account, and there are loads of little neighbourhoods next to each other. The hostel I stayed at was on the edge of Chinatown and North Beach (the italian area).

The hostel was really nice and in a good location, and in true San Francisco style the street to the side of it was so steep that the first floor was at street level further back and in fact my room on the 3rd floor at the far back corner was near the street behind the building. It also had a big common room, called the ballroom, which was huge, and 3 nights a week, free dinner that was cooked by some volunteering guests.

My third night there was New Years Eve, I went out with a small group of people I'd just met, but we couldnt decide where to go, so ended up going to a little pub in downtown, and hardly new when New Year had come. Then at 2 when the pubs close, we were suddenly kicked out, no drinking up time or nothing. A doorman came up to our table said, "can you leave please?" We said yeah in a minute, he said no now, the police are already here. And sure enough behind him were 3 coppers and they were kicking everyone out dead on 2.

So after we left the pub on our walk back to the hostel we ran into several drunk locals, and I had to have my picture taken with several groups because..... get this I was British!
The next few days in san Francisco I spent walking around seeing some sites including Fishermans wharf, the golden gate bridge, Haight Ashbury, and Alcatraz.

After almost a week in San Fran, I took a 3 day trip over to Yosemite National park in the mountains in eastern California. The place was pretty spectacular, especially the huge snow covered peaks, and I even saw a Bobcat, even though I didnt really know what one was. It was kinda like a domestic cat only about the size of a medium sized dog.
After a couple of nights out at Yosemite, I travelled back to San Fran on the train, then after another day there made plans to head north.

So from there I decided to get a Greyhound up to Portland, as it was cheaper than the train, and also I'd heard so many stories about Greyhound trips and the type of people you meet on them, that it was definately worth trying the once, and I have to say the stories werent wrong at all.

Firstly when I got to the San Francisco Greyhound station, I was presented with several robotic staff, who couldnt comprehend that someone hadnt ridden a greyhound before. Firstly I had to pick up my tickets that I'd booked online, so I went to the ticket desk carrying my big backpack and picked up my tickets. Now, not at any point did the guy at the desk tell me I had to check my baggage, he just said, "the bus is boarding at gate 5, which is through that door there."

So I walked over to the door to the waiting area, and the guy on the door there asked to see my ticket which I showed him. Then he looked at my bag and said, "You'll need a tag with your address on that." So I showed him that I still had a tag on it from my last flight, he studied the tag, and said, "that's too small, you'll need one bigger than that, go and get one from the ticket desk." So I wandered back to the ticket desk, where there was now a queue, but I spied a pile of baggage tags, marked.... baggage tags. So I picked a couple up and headed back to the waiting room. This time the guy checked my ticket, again, and said, "Wheres your tag?" I showed him the ones I picked up, saying I was gonna fill them out. He thought about it, and then said, "No they're not the right tag, you need to ask the guy at the ticket desk for a tag!"

OK, so back I went to the ticket desk and queued up. Once I got to the guy, I told him, "the security guy at the waiting room says I need a big baggage tag for my bag." The guy at the desk, the same one as before, looked at me like I was dumb, and said, "of course you need a tag for that bag, you havent checked it in!" So then we had to weigh the bag he had to look at my tickets, and type something into the computer, then out came a huge printed tag with my destination which he attached to my bag. Yay, I was getting there.

So I went back to the waiting room with my tagged bag, and just to round it off the security guy, asked me for my tickets a fourth time!!!! He knew I was the same person, why did he need to look at my tickets each time?!!

Once on the bus, the first bit was a few hours to Sacramento, where I had an hour and a half wait and a change onto the main bus north. The first bus was relatively empty, which didnt prepare me at all for the next 12 hour bus journey.

At the Sacramento bus station I could tell lots of people were going on my bus as the bag queue was huge. Yes it seems in Greyhound stations, not the safest of places in America, people leave their bags in a queue to the gate whilst they wander off and leave them unattended. Also whilst I was waiting, I overheard that the bus was ending at Portland, and not going on to Seattle, so the passengers who were booked onto Seattle, werent being allowed on the bus, which left a large number of irate passengers. Greyhounds supposed reasoning, we cant have all those people just sat at Portland bus station with nowhere to go. Although I think the real reason was that they had overbooked the bus, as even when they stopped at least 10 people from getting on the bus, the bus was still full to capacity.

So once we all got on the bus and the journey was underway, it led to the next amusement. Everytime we stopped anywhere, half the bus got off to smoke, whilst the other half then moved into the vacated seats only to find, that the original lot got back on then leaving arguements to ensue about everyones seats. It really was quite funny, I mean half the bus belonged on the Jerry Springer show anyway, but at every stop to have all these little spats going on just added to all the fun. Maybe Jerry will come back with a new show.... "Someone stole my seat on the Greyhound to Portland!" In true Jerry Springer style the twist being that the stealer turns out to be sleeping with the steelees wife, of course!

After 12 hours of fun and games we arrived in Portland, Oregon. Portland, was actually a really cool city, I was recommended to go there by several people over the last year and it didnt disappoint. To look at the city, its just an industrial city set on a river with loads of factories and some skyscrapers in the downtown, but thats before you take into account, Portland's two most important facts...

1. Portland claims to have the largest number of microbrewries in the US.
2. Portland claims to have the largest independant bookseller in the world.

I say claims, just because loads of times these amazing facts that places claim are hard to prove, but it certainly had a lot of independant pubs, selling there own beer, and the bookshop was pretty damn big.

When I arrived at the hostel, I met two english lads from the East Midlands who were travelling around the states for 2 months on trains. We managed to check out the local nightlife most nights I was there, including every evening begining with a trip to a pizza place that sold a bunch of unique beers for 2.50 a pint, including an amazing IPA which was 10% but tasted about 5%. Then we'd visit a few pubs, bearing in mind that every pub sold its own set of beers and few were more than 4 bucks a pint.

One night as we were leaving one place at kicking out time, we got caught in a conversation with some locals, who couldnt beleive we were English and had come to Portland. Several times the conversation went something like this, Random American, "What the F***, are you doing in Portland, Oregon!?" Me, "Dunno, just loads of people said I should check the place out, cos its a good place." "Well yeah they're right!! you should've definately came and seen the place!"

After all the various chats, we ended up with a small group of people volenteering to take us sightseeing the next day. All random people to each other too. When the next day came though just one lad came and met us at the hostel, and he admitted he'd only been in Portland for a few months himself, originally from a small town in western Oregon. He attempted to show us some sights, but really we just wandered around the city most of the afternoon. There arent many sights you see, just pubs and a huge bookshop, but they are both worth the visit if your anywhere near the Pacific northwest.

As for the bookshop well, it took up several floors of a whole city block and cleverly combined 2nd hand books with new books, and kept them together. So you could search the whole huge bookshop for what you were looking for, then see if they had any second or cheaper versions of the book you wanted. I managed to pick up a couple of books for under 2 bucks each.

After spending 3 nights in Portland, I got another Greyhound, north to Seattle, complete with all the strange passengers like before, but only for 4 hours this time. I spent 2 days in Seattle, visiting the bottom of the Space Needle, the city market (what is it with markets being tourist attractions?!! From India to the states every city seems to claim its market is worth looking at!), took a ferry ride across Puget sound, and best of all visited the Music Experience Museam. Which is in my opinion the best thing about Seattle.

It was a cross between a science museam and a serious museam, with the music theme. Little did I know Seattle has a huge musical past, all I could've mentioned to you before I got there, was Nirvana were from Seattle, but thats just the tip of the iceberg. Jimi Hendrix was from Seattle, which I think you mostly knew, but well I didnt, and although not from there, Quincy jones of all people started his carreer playing jazz clubs in Seattle in the 40s and 50s, and there were more people from Seattle but I can't remember who now.

Like a science museam it also had loads of exhibitions where you could try playing instruments, and it even had several recording studios where people were going inside in groups and recording songs, or noise, one or the other.

After Seattle I got on one more Greyhound up to Vancouver, this time the bus was close to empty and seemed to have normal people on it. I think that's because the crazies wouldnt have passports so could never go to Canada. At the border we all got off the bus to go through immigration, and I ended up holding the whole bus up, as the border guards werent used to people coming through requesting work permits.

They were OK about it, but it took two of them ages on the computer filling everything out, and it appears they;ve got it wrong. My work permit says I'm only permitted to work in British Columbia, but it should say anywhere in Canada. The permit is so sophisticated its not even stuck in my passport, its stapled in!!!

So after I received my work permit, I got back on the bus and on we drove into Vancouver. Once nearing the city I got my first glimpse of all the snow they'd had a few weeks before, although mostly melted, piles of it lay in gardens still. Also since just outside Seattle everywhere we'd driven was shrouded in fog, including the tops of tall buildings in vancouver.

Once I got off the bus at the greyhound station, I caught a local bus to the hostel I'd booked. I got off the bus and went into the hostel only to find it was closed for the next 4 hours and I wouldnt be able to check in. This combined with the general state of disrepair it appeared in led me to go for a hunt for another place. Eventually I stumbed on a faceless door labeled, Grand Trunk Hostel. I rang the bell and was greeted by the owner a chinese lady, who was enthusiasticly telling me that she was glad I had come, and singing the praises of the hostel. She even went as far as telling me, "Oh, your English and called John, we have another English, John staying here! You'll love the place" As if that would make a difference.

The hostel was actually not too bad at all for $16 a night, and it included of all things a fridge and cable TV in each dorm. In fact it had more amenities than many places, but it was a little dirty, had no common room, and the kitchen was terrible. In fact having a TV in each room meant our dorm was a bit like a common room. That, and the kitchen was why i eventually decided to move elsewhere. If I got a job how was I gonna go to bed early and get up if the TV was on til 1 or 2 each night?

The other annoyance with that first Hostel was Dave, the guy that worked there. He could talk your ear off for hours about absolute rubbish and seemed intent on sitting next to me when I went on the internet and was trying to e-mail people about jobs. I dont know what his real story was, but he could certainly spin some yarns, he was continually going on about how he was a trader and made millions of dollars, and had a brilliant knack for predicting the market. Then he'd go off about how the world was about to end and that the combination of climate change and the global recession were leading to it. If he really made loads of money why did he work in a crappy hostel in Vancouver, and live in a tiny room there?

My first morning in vancouver I had to go to an orientation. As the Canadian work visa is organised through BUNAC, you get loads of help with stuff, including an orientation at one of the main cities. The Orientation wasnt particularly useful, the only reason I went was because apparently they can get your SIN number (same as NI) quicker. They gave us a 2 hour talk, and a welcome pack, and gave me a letter about my work permit allowing me to work anywhere in Canada, and not just BC.

For my first week in Vancouver I did all the usual stuff you have to do when arriving in a new country you're gonna work in, got a bank account, and mobile phone, etc. Also I bought some sking clothes, and long term hired a set of skis and boots. And whilst all this was going on, not once did the fog clear, in fact the only day I didnt have fog in the first week, was when I went up to Grouse mountain sking. Grouse Mountain is Vancouver's nearest ski resort, and is so close from most of the runs you can see the city below you, although the day I went it was shrouded in fog, and you could just make out building tops poking through. Up on the mountain though it was really sunny, and actually quite hot. A good day for my first bit of sking in more than 8 years.

Finally after more than a week in vancouver, the fog suddenly cleared one day to reveal the city and its amazing setting. If you look along almost any northbound street, you can see snow covered mountains above the buildings. And when you walk to the harbour you can see North Vancouver across the water and the mountains towering above it.

After just over a week in vancouver, I headed up to Whistler for 3 days sking before I would start properly looking for work. Whistler was huge and the sking was really good. The resort is set on two mountains next to each other with a new peak to peak gondola connecting the two together. The Gondola breaks loads of new records including it being more than a mile above the ground at its middle point.

After 3 days in Whistler I went back to Vancouver and moved into a new hostel, and started looking for work. I found myself a job last week, its pretty mudane but there doesnt seem to be too many jobs around at the moment so I'll take what I can get. Not sure how long I'm going to be in the job, or what exactly my next move is. I'm definately here to see out the winter, as I have to take my rental skis back 1st of April, but then after that I'm not sure. We shall see........

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