Home From the Sea

Wow! Four posts from a single holiday, plus a bonus blog about getting COIVD. That’s not a record, but it’s pretty good.

This was definitely a Trip-of-a-Lifetime, because we’re never doing anything like this again. We’re glad we did it, we saw many things we would have never been able to see otherwise, and we had many unexpected adventures, but around Day Three we both—independently—arrived at a startling conclusion: we don’t like being away from home this long.

It’s not that we don’t like travel (we do), it’s more that we like our routines, and we are involved in our community in ways that require emails and searches for replacements if we’re to be absent for even one week, and that only gets more complex the longer we’re away. And so, there likely won’t be any 16-Day adventures in our future, and certainly no holidays that involve a boat.

Vancouver

Vancouver is a lovely city, easy to navigate, filled with nice parks, surrounded by scenic coastline, and enjoying an abundance of great restaurants, posh hotels and soaring office buildings. But it is a city of contrasts. In looking around, you see happy, industrious people, striding from one power-meeting to another, gripping refillable cups of coffee from Tim Horton’s in one hand and leather briefcases in the other. The streets are clean, the buildings tall and shiny, and everything exudes the scent of money.

Then look closer, at ground level, to see the homeless, wrapped in blankets, lying on the sidewalks. There is a street not far from our sumptuous hotel that is fairly lined with homeless people and drug abusers. Not even in London have I seen such a contrast between unabashed opulence and those who dwell on the fringes of society.

After a quick walk about, you get the idea that accommodation in Vancouver is hugely expensive, and property out of the reach of mere mortals. Conversations with locals confirmed this: it’s a nice city, but you can’t afford to live there. This is the same for any major city, but the shiny newness of Vancouver somehow makes the dichotomy between rich and poor more stark.

It is a very nice place, really. You should visit.
And how do you like my slide show? Crystal taught me how to do it.

But it does love tourists, as the four or five cruise ships a day attests to. By all means, come and visit. You’ll love it. But don’t get any ideas about relocating.

As a tourist, there are many things to do. We toured Stanley Park, went to Grandville Market, and even tried out the Capliano Suspension Bridge. That was a hoot, and there was also a tree-top walk, which was like the suspension bridge except it didn’t sway all over the place.

Walking the bridge and treetops would have been easier and gone smoother if certain people—and there were a lot of them—didn’t feel the need to stop every five feet to have their photo taken.

The Year of the Glacier

Before May of this year, I had never seen a glacier in person (US: GLAY-sure // UK: GLASS-e-ur). Since then, however, I haven’t been able to swing a cat without hitting one.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with glaciers, it’s just that every time I see one, there’s always someone there to remind you that what you’re looking at is just a shadow of its former self.

“The glacier is dying, you know,” they’ll say, “just like the planet, and all of us.”

FFS! I’m on holiday. Can’t you let me enjoy myself without reminding me that we’re all going to die? Just allow me a few minutes of enjoyment without the doom and gloom, okay? You wouldn’t constantly remind someone who has a terminal illness that they going to die, would you?

“That was a great outing today, Bobby, and this restaurant is superb. What a fantastic day. But you do know you’re going to die soon, right?”

Also, most of the glaciers I’ve seen have been thoroughly underwhelming. But I’d never mention that to my guide, as they’d just go into their “’bout ten year ago, you couldn’t stand here because the glacier went all the way ‘ta back there, so now we’re all going to die” routine.

The other thing about glaciers is, they’re just ice. That’s all. But if you called them that, no one would pay a fortune to come see them and mourn their (quite obvious) shrinkage (we’re all going to die, you know).

“Say, Bobby! You want to come see some Ice! No? But it’s really cool ice, and there’s lots of it. And it’s dying, like you, so c’mon, it will be great.”

Then, on the fifth day of the cruise, we entered Glacier Bay National Park. This was the only day of the entire holiday where the weather wasn’t brilliant, but the fog and low cloud added atmosphere. We sat in the café (hoping we were on the right side of the boat), stared out the window, and waited.

Then it started to rain, meaning that when we got to the glaciers it was hard to see them and impossible to take a photo, so we suited up and went outside. We managed to find a covered location, and we were prepared enough to stay out there, so we got some great photos. Other people—when a photo op arrived—stampeded onto the decks, dressed for lounging by the pool, snapped a photo, then stampede back inside.

Each glacier was bigger and more impressive than the last and, as we approached the Grand Finale—John Hopkin’s (of university fame) Glacier—it became obvious that the ship was going to turn so we could see it better, and we were on the wrong side. Fortunately, the ship stayed in place for an hour so everyone could get the money shot, giving us ample time to get to the other side, which, still being hazy about the layout of the boat, took us a while.

We stayed out in the rain for a while, taking photos and oohing and aahing, then retired to the Lido café for a hot cup of coffee, a sit-down, and a chance to dry our jackets. From our table, we could still see the glacier, so we sat and admired it.

After a while, we left the John Hopkin’s Glacier and made our way to the final, Grand Finale: Margerie Glacier. And that was truly impressive. As before, we parked in front of the glacier for an hour so everyone could get plenty of photos. Then we sailed away.

It was an amazing experience. Just being in the frozen north (although way south of most of Alaska) to see the magnificent (yes, they are) glaciers was a once-in-a-lifetime thrill, and I felt lucky to be there.