Ticket to Ryde

Posted on January 28, 2024 by Grace Lessageing

Day two of our local jaunt to Southsea dawns gloomy and overcast, but we decide to press ahead with a hovercraft trip to the Isle of Wight anyway. At this time of year we can’t expect tropical temperatures or baking sun and it’s a bonus if there’s no rain.

We’ve had a good breakfast at the hotel. It’s just a couple of minutes walk across the common to the hovercraft ticket office and once we’re there there’s a short wait but even so a perusal of the key rings/pens/fridge magnets on offer does nothing to fill the time. Ferries continue to criss-cross on the water outside, beautifully coordinated so as not to collide.

We can see the hovercraft approaching long before it arrives, then it swoops up on to the beach, lifting its skirts and then dropping them in a wheezy curtsey as the air is expelled. The doors lift open at the end and the steps descend, followed swiftly by the passengers, before we’re ushered up and in. This is no sluggish turnaround! Once we’re seated, the vessel rises up and is soon up to speed, whisking across the waves for a ten minute trip to the island. Of course there are no vehicles on this crossing- they must go by ferry. This is an expensive stretch of water; the price of a car or van is quite outrageous, given the short distance; even these passenger tickets are not a bargain.

We’re soon at Ryde, swooping and curtseying then exiting- all over in a flash. Ryde seafront is undergoing a transformation, with new paving, signs and so on. The hovercraft terminal sits next to both the train and bus station- very fancy, although we fail to locate any public lavatories in spite of searching all over the place. Then it becomes clear that the workmen-type portaloos in front of the station are, in fact, the temporary public loos. Later I notice a tiny sign to the effect in the information office window- hmmm.

We catch a bus to Sandown, which has a decadent, neglected air, its once grand hotels and apartments tumbling down, windows boarded, ivy taking hold and mould blackening; and even on the seafront, where rooms and homes face the water providing a wonderful view. Further along, beyond the pier there is an unlovely block of flats and I wonder why anyone would prefer one of these to the grand old Victorian buildings that are becoming ruins.

The pier is dedicated almost entirely to slot machines and on this overcast Saturday, this is where people have come- to play ‘Penny Falls’ and virtual golf. Seaside resorts in winter can often feel melancholy but Sandown feels positively dismal.

We drift back to find a bus stop- there being little else to see.

Back at Ryde we have a look at the pier, which is spectacular, before calling it a day and going for the hovercraft. The later it’s fish and chips in the cosy pub and a nightcap before bed…

Jane Deans has published two novels: The Conways at Earthsend and The Year of Familiar Strangers. Visit my writer page on Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/people/Jane-Deans-Novellist-Short-Fiction-and-Blog/100063988575981/

An Hour Away

Posted on January 21, 2024 by Grace Lessageing

After having spent most of last autumn engaged in various hospital matters, we feel it’s time to make an amoebic foray into the world of excursion- but not too far and not too long!

Husband has reserved us a few nights in Southsea, a satellite of Portsmouth, only about an hour from us here on the UK’s south coast. Two months of only packing hospital necessities has not prepared me for any kind of hotel stay, so I have to think carefully about what I need- but the weather is cold, [as it should be in January here].

Portsmouth is a major south coast port and houses the Royal Navy Dockyard, as well as catering for ferries, across the English Channel and more. Southsea is the seaside part of the city, with [stoney] beaches, piers, street art, a castle and all the usual attractions and some hilarious signage. Besides all of this, it boasts a range of beautiful, historic architecture and some interesting sights as well as a vast, green swathe of common between the sea and the residential area.

The short drive and arrival are bathed in sunshine and clear blue skies so having checked in we wander out around the area and it’s a great location, just behind the stretch of common that borders the beach. The council are clearly using low season to reinforce the seafront, beefing up flood defences- cranes, diggers and piles of aggregate dominating the front. Ferries pass offshore, heading to harbour, also the Channel Islands’ hydrofoil as well as the hyperactive hovercraft to Ryde, Isle of Wight, which is what we’ll be doing tomorrow.

Portsmouth’s ancient dockyard, which houses Lord Nelson’s ship, HMS Victory, HMS Warrior [the first iron battleship] and The Mary Rose, Henry VIII’s flagship. In a previous life I’ve made regular trips to the dockyard with groups of children and know it very well. HMS Warrior is, to my mind, by far the most thrilling to visit with children as they can clamber over canons, handle objects and have a thoroughly good time. Still…

We don’t need to walk far to find a wide selection of places to eat, opting this first night for Chinese, although the meal is mediocre and the restaurant very brightly lit and not quite warm enough. There is just one other couple eating there and the experience is a little dispiriting. We decamp to the pub next door, which is cosy and welcoming and where we’ll eat tomorrow.

If I have one complaint about hotel rooms, it’s that they are too often too hot and dry, the duvets too thick. We do manage to turn off the radiator but I can only adjust the air-con down to 16, which has to do. I prefer a cool room for sleeping, even though the outside temperature is cold.

Breakfast next morning, however is very good and sets us up for some Isle of Wight exploration. Unlike yesterday though, it’s cloudy. We wrap up and head off to the hovercraft ticket office…

Jane Deans two novels: The Conways at Earsthend and The Year of Familiar Strangers are widely available

Hopeful Travels

Posted on January 14, 2024 by Grace Lessageing

It’s fair to say our time at Calgary Airport was not especially happy. Airports, on the whole are never wonderful places to spend time. Many hopeful travellers arrive and like to pass the hours quaffing beers in the nearest bar- even in the early morning- . Having dropped the deficient campervan off at Cruise Canada depot and been told that ‘we don’t supply that’ to the long list of missing items we’d compiled, we’d got a taxi to the airport. But since we’d had to deposit the van before midday, the remaining time until eight pm would have to be passed waiting for the flight, which would be overnight.

Our morning had been dogged by difficulty. I’d been trying [and failing] to upgrade our seats. Air Canada had, in its wisdom, allocated us seats in the middle of the plane [never my favourite] and one behind the other; also the middle of the middle. I’d managed to get on to what I thought was Air Canada’s website and had been trying to upload various documents and photos of things to a man I [erroneously, as it turned out] assumed to be an airline staff member. I had failed in this- and thank goodness I had! I continued to ‘hold’ [as instructed] until I felt like I was welded to the phone- and all the way into Calgary. The journey [which I’d been dreading] was nowhere near as difficult as anticipated, but even in the taxi to the airport I was still talking to the supposed Air Canada employee…

On our arrival it was far too early to drop the bags. At last I gave up on the upgrade, feeling exhausted. We went to get a coffee. My phone rang. It was someone from Air Canada. ‘Have you been speaking to a travel agent?’ he asked. I explained I’d been trying to upgrade our seats, to be told I had not been communicating with an Air Canada employee at all. I blanched, horrified. I’d need to cancel my bank cards straight away. This meant an extraordinarily long ‘hold’ once more on my phone. Once I’d managed to cancel both bank cards and get off the line my reaction was to burst into tears of relief.

Clearly we had to put up with the middle-of-the-middle seats.

The time passed and we rid ourselves of the suitcases then went to departure. By now I was reeling with relief that I hadn’t gifted a large sum of money to the scammers and was happy enough to sit somewhere and read or to peruse the meagre selection of gift shops [minus bank cards is by far the best way to do this].

At last it was time to board the plane and we located the seats. I sat down next to a portly Scot, whose wife was- yes- in the seat in front of him, and we chatted while the plane was readied for take-off. As it taxied to the runway Husband tapped my shoulder. There was an empty seat next to him! Once we were in the air I moved back next to him, freeing a seat so that the Scottish pair could sit together too. The plane was, otherwise, full and presumably the empty seat was a ‘no-show’.

We were served drinks and edible food. The cabin staff were affable and friendly. I was handed a second drink. We even slept.

Arrival home to the UK in late September heralded the start of a different, difficult kind of journey, involving many, many trips; one that I have not chosen, one that is ongoing but maybe… just maybe…the destination is drawing nearer and may even be in sight as 2024 begins.

Happy New Year to all followers and visitors. And may 2024 be filled with joyful discovery, adventurous travel and most of all, good health.

Novels by Jane Deans, author: The Conways at Earthsend, The Year of Familiar Strangers.

All Over Bar the Flying

Posted on January 7, 2024 by Grace Lessageing

We’d stopped briefly at the station for Lake Louise when we were on the Rocky Mountaineer, which seems like months ago now, so eventful have our subsequent days been. Now we’re back to explore it. Husband’s snotty ailment, Covid or not, has subsided to a degree that he’s feeling substantially better- no doubt aided by the excellent bakery products from Laggans- a happy discovery.

It’s time to leave the Post Hotel and go back to Banff for our last couple of nights. But first we’ll go and look at the lake, of course, because that’s why we’re here. Finding it becomes a little confusing though, in spite of our being right in the heart of Lake Louise, the community. Once we’re on the the right track we must negotiate the car parks; and they’re busy. On first sight it looks impossible, but by driving round and up we’re directed to a campervan and motorhome area and we do get a space. It’s all quite regimented and organised. Having bought our ticket, we walk down towards the lakeside. It’s sunny but quite chilly. The weather has been becoming much cooler since we arrived to Vancouver three weeks ago [was it only three weeks?] and layered clothing is necessary.

At the lakeside there are crowds of visitors, so many that here at the start of the path it’s impossible to see or take a photo without someone in it. Most are intent on selfies- the scourge of our age. I’ve written before about the hordes of tourists who love to pout, thrust and drape themselves over iconic sights so that nobody else gets a look, and so it is here. The lakeside beach is covered in stones and small boulders and when I see selfie-takers stumbling over them or balancing precariously for a photo, it is my greatest hope that they’ll tumble into the [undoubtedly freezing], blue waters of the lake. But it doesn’t happen.

We walk on round, past the lake chateau, now yet another Fairmont hotel, although it is vast and picturesque in its setting. The further we go, the thinner the crowd becomes until we’re able to walk unimpeded, the view back towards the Lake Louise Chateau is even better and photography is an option.

Finally we turn back, and back to the van, where we take advantage of the parking spot and have some lunch. From here, it’s not too far to journey on back to Banff for our third and final visit, returning to Tunnel Mountain campsite for our last couple of days. The last day or two of an epic trip place you in a strange limbo. The weather has become decidedly autumnal, the nights cold and the mornings chilly. We’re unwilling to get more groceries in at this stage, instead opting to eke out what we have. But it’s two nights- and what we have does not lend itself to two meals. We also have a number of items we’ve bought to augment the kitchen ‘kit’ we’d hired [which had been lacking several, vital components]. I’m not going to be donating them to the van hire company!

While we’ve had two good looks at Banff already, we decide to spend a bit more time there rather than on the site, and take the shuttle bus to town for our last day. There’s very little left to see, but there’s a pretty park, where the trees are showing some lovely autumn colour and a few streets we hadn’t walked before. After a late afternoon beer we decide to call it a day.

We still have to clean and sort the campervan. There’s a ‘housekeeping’ charge for vans returned in a grubby condition, although I’d have cleaned it anyway. My solution to the surplus items- including the unused bear-spray- is to take everything to the camp kitchen/washing up place and invite others to take what they would like.

A short wander around the environs of the site has revealed a lucky find in the shape of a hostel with a small restaurant offering an evening meal menu as well as beers, meaning that our last evening is catered for.

All that’s left to do is to get the van back to the depot in Calgary tomorrow before midday…

To find novels by Jane Deans, Grace’s alter ego, search Amazon, Waterstones, Goodreads and other book sites. The Year of Familiar Strangers and The Conways at Earthsend are widely available. Visit my Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100063988575981

The Road to Lake Louise

Posted on December 31, 2023 by Grace Lessageing

We leave our Jasper campsite and set off back along the route we came on- [there’s not a lot of choices, route-wise!]. We are armed with a detailed, illustrated guide book we found in the tourist office in Banff, which has been a lot more useful than the redundant Bear-spray we were encouraged to buy!

For our return journey, Husband is now extremely sneezy and sniffy, but we’ll be stopping at sights along the way, now that we know where we’re going. There are plenty of scenic lakes with mountainous backdrops, some with interesting back stories. But by far the most dramatic and thrilling sight we detour to is Athabasca Falls. There’s good parking and it’s not too far to walk along the wooded path, then we’re at a footbridge and the waterfall is stunning, roaring and gushing down underneath the bridge and continuing down into a deep, narrow chasm. There’s something thrilling and satisfying about dramatic waterfalls- especially when so many famous and historic ones have dwindled to trickles [as in Yosemite National Park in the US].

Then there’s Bow Lake, a beautiful place with an attractive, log-built, lakeside lodge [‘The Lodge’], it’s red roof setting off the cool colours of the surrounding mountains and azure blue of the water. We’re lucky that it’s quiet- we almost have the place to ourselves!

At last we’re approaching Lake Louise and must find our way to the hotel we’ve booked, the Post Hotel. Although Lake Louise itself is tiny, existing only for tourism and consisting mainly of hotels, we’re confused over the location, backtracking up and down the road a couple of times until we spot the narrow driveway that leads to it. First impressions are good as we drive into the car park. It’s a lodge-like building, timber, with red roof and green paintwork giving it a Christmassy look.

We park and check in, the only campervan in the car park! The room is large, comfortable and cosy and there’s a balcony- although it overlooks the car park! The train rumbles past just beyond the fringe of pines. We’re here for two nights, having failed to get a pitch on a Lake Louise site, but Husband, who is feeling poorly now, will be able to sleep comfortably. There’s a slight snag in that there’s no tea or coffee making facility in the room but I figure I can go out in the morning and make tea in our van then bring it back in the time-honoured method we developed in Vancouver [which seems a long time ago] of using a water bottle as a Thermos.

I leave Husband dozing and go out for a wander. I cross the hotel car park and a footbridge across a river, then climb a slope and I’m in a small shopping precinct. There are a few gift shops and a grocery store, but best of all there’s a magnificent bakery-cafe selling pastries, cakes, bread, coffee, sandwiches and…pies! Not only pies, but hot pies! There’s a substantial queue but it’s worth the wait and I’m thrilled to be able to return to a poorly Husband bearing hot, comforting treats.

As expected, he perks up at the very sniff of them…

Good Spirits

Posted on December 24, 2023 by Grace Lessageing

By the time you read this post it will be Christmas Eve 2023 and by the time we go to Spirit Lake, near Jasper, Canada, our epic trip will be in its latter stages. We’ve booked a boat trip on the lake. As we queue to have our tickets scanned I feel we couldn’t have chosen a better day, since there’s not a cloud in the sky, the water of the lake is sparkling and the sun is warm.

The boat fills up quickly and we’re in the last seat at the back, which is a good thing, bearing in mind that I’ve had what is almost certainly Covid and we’re not sure whether Husband will succumb or not. In any case, once we’re out on the water there’s a strong, fresh breeze, meaning that the airflow is brisk!

We’re subject to the inevitable commentary, from a fresh faced young woman who clearly feels her next step will be featuring in a stand-up routine. Some of the info is interesting, but the scenery is the star of the show, the colour of the water a vibrant green-blue in contrast to the stark peaks of the surrounding mountains as we leave behind the jetty and the quaint boathouse to pass kayaks and canoes.

The boat motors through a narrower channel and around a bend and we’re in the real, spiritual part of the lake- or at least- the part that is spiritual for the First Nations. There’s a tiny island topped with a few trees that is sacred for them and although it’s possible to walk on to it we are not to. The boat pulls in for us to enjoy the view, which is stunning. While there are no bears of any description, there is, on the beach, a huge, colourful butterfly. It eludes my lens frustratingly but I snap it at last. We only have around fifteen minutes or so; I’m guessing this is down to the long queues back at the jetty, then we pile on board and head back.

After a coffee on the sunny decking of the cafe we walk back up to the van and take the winding road back to Jasper and our site.

We’re due to leave in the morning, although I’m alarmed when Husband begins to cough and sneeze as if he’s getting a very heavy head cold. We are wanting to go back to Banff via Lake Louise but have drawn a blank on finding a pitch in one of the sites there. The situation is critical but in desperation we opt for the only solution: We’ll need to get a hotel room for a couple of nights. There are hotels at Lake Louise but they are eye-wateringly expensive. Faced with this, plus Husband’s deteriorating condition we’ve no choice but to reserve a room- at the cheapest hotel [though it’s still dear]. At least Husband can confine himself to the room for a night or so until he feels better.

Having consulted our detailed guide book of the route, we start back with the aim of stopping off at some must-sees on the way to Lake Louise. Husband, by now, has a streaming nose but otherwise can cope- and there’s still so much to take in…

Alter ego, Jane Deans has written two novels: The Year of Familiar Strangers and The Conways at Earthsend, both available from Amazon .

On the Way to Spirit Lake

Posted on December 17, 2023 by Grace Lessageing

Before driving to Spirit Lake we need to refuel the campervan. We’ve done this once, en route from Calgary to Banff, when we’d stopped at the service station where we should have turned off to go to MaCleans campsite on our first van day. I’d forgotten that to put fuel in your vehicle [here, as in the USA] you must first go to the counter and pay for it. This confuses me. Here in the UK, we pay for fuel after putting it in, otherwise, how are you supposed to know how much you want? On this previous occasion, when faced with the question, I’d said ‘I don’t know’, to which the checkout lady had suggested $100, much to my relief.

We noticed a couple of gas stations from the bus when we came into Jasper yesterday. We pull into one. This time we’d like to fill the van without having to say how much we are buying, but the self-service machine doesn’t explain how to do it. Lucky for us, the man at the pump in front is only too pleased to help us out. This is another occasion when we’ve been assisted by kindly Canadians- who we’ve found to be amenable and friendly wherever we go.

Then we’re off through Jasper, turning off and across a beautiful, rustic bridge and on to a winding road into the wilds. En route we round vast lakes and through majestic forests, but sometimes we’re confronted by huge swathes of burnt forest and land. It’s an upsetting sight and a sobering reminder of the devastation the summer wildfires have wrought.

We’re motoring along through a wooded area when something wonderful happens. We’re flagged down by a ranger’s vehicle a couple of cars ahead because a moose is standing in the middle of the road with her calf. We are all halted and have a ringside seat as the moose poses, unconcerned next to the ranger’s car and her calf scampers backwards and forwards across the road. Here, where we live in the UK, next to the New Forest national park we are used to waiting for the wild ponies to shift from their middle-of-the-road positions and often think they do it deliberately, so perhaps this moose is the same: ‘This is my home and you can wait!’ We are delighted to wait as long as she wishes.

After a while the calf runs off up the steep side of the road and the cow saunters slowly after. Then they are gone.Eureka! Now I believe there are moose here. But I still think the bears are a marketing ploy and that none live here at all- except perhaps in zoos. And we were convinced to buy a ‘bear spray’ by the lady in the tourist office, too! What a con!

Having lunched in a roadside pull-off by a lake, we arrive to our destination. There are several car parks but it’s busy and we need to go to the furthest to find a space, before walking down to the lakeside where there are shops, cafes and queues for boats. The early morning frost has given way to bright blue skies and sunshine, which bodes well for photos. The first look at Spirit Lake is a reminder of why it’s so often used in travel and holiday marketing brochures. It is simply beautiful…

The Backwoods

Posted on December 10, 2023 by Grace Lessageing

The camp site just outside Jasper is wooded, with cleared areas for pitches. It seems bizarre to me that so many people have opted for the rustic, non-electric-hook-up, no-hard-standing pitches and all they desire is a fire pit and a pile of wood. As long as fires are lit using the braziers provided anyone is at liberty to toast themselves outside by a roaring fire, which appears to be the favourite activity here. If more wood is required there is a pile of it waiting to be chopped and axes for kindling. You have to trust that there are no raving, lunatic axe-wielding serial killers among the camping community. Given that the summer wildfires were so devastating it’s a surprise to find that outside burning is not only allowed, but encouraged.

A fair number of our fellow campers are using tiny tents, too, so, given that the night-time temperatures are quite low they are a tough bunch!

Since our arrival I’ve slumped in the passenger seat of our van and had a snooze. When I wake something feels different. I’m less ‘floaty’. I feel a bit better. Yes- I’m still coughing, but it’s a definite improvement. I wander round to a shower facility and it’s surprisingly good for such a rustic site.

We’ve continued to use the table/bed [me] and a mattress on the floor [Husband], for sleeping. During the night I wake to the sight of Husband, struggling to get up and disorientated. I lever him upright. He’s burning hot. It’s clear he’s succumbed to the dreaded Covid, as I did. Horrors! straight away I administer Paracetamol and swap beds; now he has the table/bed and I have the floor, which is not conducive to cosy slumber. By the morning though, he has rallied and feels ok for now.

On a recce of the site, Husband has spotted a different area altogether, purpose built for motorhomes and campervans. It’s hard standing and has hook-up, as well as its own shower facilities. Better still- and bizarrely- the hard standing pitches are cheaper than the rest of the site. There is one, spare spot- which we move to, gratefully. From our new position we can see the Jasper Skytram, a glistening dot travelling up and down the mountain. But there are still no bears…not one, single distant, furry form…anywhere.

The shuttle bus stops a few yards from our van, with hardly anyone on board so we hop on and go to have a look at the town. The first thing I notice is the railway tracks, a station and a couple of huge, historic engines displayed along the roadside. We get off at what seems like the main street, although it’s soon clear that Jasper, though cute and in a stunning location, is a tiny town. What there is is also set up almost entirely for tourists, the stores selling mainly outdoor gear for walking, climbing, hiking, skiing and other pursuits, with a few gift shops thrown in, one being ‘Bearbury, which would be more amusing if there were bears…

But there is a visitor centre where we book a visit to ‘Spirit Lake’ for next day, Husband going in to reserve it while I wait outside as I’m still coughing. After a search we do find a small supermarket, tucked away between the tourist shops.

Then it’s back to site on the bus. The night is cold and we’re glad of the heater, although our neighbours are all sitting outside by their blazing log fires, knocking back wine.

In the morning when I step outside there’s a layer of frost over everything! Frost in September! This is not something we are used to in the UK. It does, however herald a blue sky and a bright, sunny day, so we anchor all loose items in the van and set out towards Jasper for our day trip to Spirit Lake.

Tunnel Mountain and the Lonely Road to Jasper

Posted on December 3, 2023 by Grace Lessageing

It’s a relief to get into Tunnel Mountain campsite at Banff, another vast site, but properly in the mountains, in a beautiful setting. It’s popular and we need to queue to check in and pay our national park fees. Then we’re off around to our pitch, this time with electric hook-up. There are also clean, warm shower blocks and there’s a free shuttle bus to the town. It’s all good- except that I’m feeling worse than ever, with cold symptoms joing the fever and cough I’ve picked up, even if I’ve stopped feeling like I’ve swallowed a razor blade. A nasty, niggling suspicion creeps in; could this be the rampant new Covid variant that’s running riot across Canada? Then I remember; someone in a seat near us on the Rocky Mountaineer train was sneezing and spluttering for the two days. Hmmm…

If I have the Covid variant there’s nothing much to be done. We’re not able to access tests and we’re pretty isolated as it is. So far, Husband has shown no signs of succumbing, so he’ll be ok to enter shops etc. Retiring to bed isn’t an option, either. I decide to adopt the action we were advised to use in Iceland and stay outside away from others during the day.

But there are beautiful views from our pitch and the wildlife is lovely, with nonchalant deer roaming and tiny, cheeky red squirrels scampering in the pines. It’s also warm and sunny enough to sit outside, which is what I do.

We’ve done much better with the bookings now and will be returning here after our road trip. The next morning we’re up and dealing with the housekeeping- emptying and filling- like pros, now we know how to do it all.

We’re driving on up to Jasper, where again we have a pitch on a site. At the start of the drive, while we’re on the dual carriageway the weather looks threatening and there’s some rain, but then we find our turning without much trouble and the sun reappears. As we wend our way towards Jasper National Park the terrain becomes wilder and it feels remote. There are stretches where signs warn us there’s no phone signal and between Banff and Jasper there’s only one gas station, so it’s advisable to be stocked up on everything. In this direction there are few places to pull in and stop, although the other side seems better served and it takes some time to find a lunch stop.

It feels a long drive, however the notion of distance is different for us, coming from the UK, where we’re no more than a day’s drive from most places and in reality, the loop we’ve opted to do is not vast. But the campervan is wayward, as I’ve described and I’m glad we didn’t attempt anything more lengthy.

We arrive at Saskatchewan Crossing, the one and only place for fuel and for a limited selection of foodstuffs between Banff and Jasper. It’s almost exactly halfway and busy but we get a space, overlooking the snowy mountains. It’s all bathed in sunshine and warm enough for poeple to be sitting outside with picnic lunches, one family feeding a small baby in the seats around a map pointing out the sights. A little further along is the stunning Athabasca Glacier, a frozen river splayed out against the mountainside and glistening in the sun. Opposite is a visitor centre where a purpose-built, red snow bus does tours, but we need to get to our destination so we press on. From here the road climbs and winds but it’s without incident and at last we’re nearing Jasper.

There are several sites here, outside the town but it’s easy to locate ours, just off the road and easy to check in. We find our pitch. There’s little here except for a wood pile, a fire pit, a table and bench and a cleared area to park. We’ve had to forego electricity to get the pitch.

There’s still some sun filtering through the windscreen. Husband goes off to explore the site, meanwhile I grab a pillow, slide down in my seat where the sun is warm and close my eyes…

To find novels by Jane Deans, Grace’s alter ego, search Amazon, Waterstones, Goodreads and other book sites. The Year of Familiar Strangers and The Conways at Earthsend are widely available. Visit my Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100063988575981

Cold…and Hot

Posted on November 26, 2023 by Grace Lessageing

During the evening of our first night in the campervan on MaCleans camp site I begin to feel hot, then hotter…and I’m burning up. We’ve managed to concoct a meal with the help of our neighbours, who donated us a spare lighter for our non-self-igniting hob. The high temperature I’m experiencing is certainly not to due the outside air, which is cold, although one thing that does function in the van is the heater, for which we are to be very glad! The water heater and the shower seem to work, thank goodness.

Our neighbours stay outside long after dark, sitting by the log fire. The sight of camping Canadians toasting themselves by fires becomes familiar and it’s clearly a favourite activity for them as it happens wherever we go.

It’s clear I’m incubating something, so I take some Paracetamol, which eases it, and we consider how we’ll cope with the sleeping arrangement. There are two mattresses [thin, hard and cold] above the driver cab, which we do not plan to use. We knew when we booked that the van would be designed this way and had taken an optimistic view that we would cope, but we’re not going to be clambering up and down from the lofty bed.

The benches either side of the table convert to a bed, however it doesn’t accommodate two. Hmm… Since I’m not 100%, Husband volunteers to sleep on one of the top mattresses in the aisle, where there’s just about room, so we make the beds and settle down. The sleeping arrangement is far from perfect, the floor position, in particular making for an uncomfortable night.

The next morning is cold, with watery sunlight through the tall pines and I get out and stand in a patch of it.

The next challenge is to get to grips with emptying and filling the van. We’ve seen the video and we know where to stop so after stowing everything we trundle around to the van station and join a queue. Once it’s our turn we pull up by the drain and pull out the hose. The system is not like our own, where we’re used to emptying a cartridge which slots out of the side. Here there is a hose- first for the toilet waste then secondly the grey water. We learn our first lesson: ensure the valve is switched to the correct outlet before undoing the cap-

In a horrific gush, the effluent from our toilet floods out across the tarmac, to the accompanying shouts of disgust from fellow campers. Yikes! Husband manages to switch- but not before we’ve caused a substantial mess, which I must then use the water hose to clear up. We’re mortified, but were not to know and will not make the same mistake again. The water filling, more straightforward, goes ok.

We’re off back to Banff, because Husband has managed to secure us a pitch on a site in the national park called Tunnel Mountain. Besides the pitch price we must also pay national park entry and stay, but it’s a profound relief to have somewhere to park up. It’s easy enough to get back onto the main highway by retracing our steps and we’re even getting used to the van wobbles, but we narrowly avoid a serious incident as we approach Banff. The road in this direction splits and we find ourselves in a lane leading to some ticket booths- the park entrance. Somehow we’ve missed the [one] lane which is just the continuation of the road. Husband begins to reverse the van and then, at the highway, he signals right…but NO…no, no, no, no, no!! We’re on the wrong side- facing the traffic!!

There’s a lot of flashing and hooting as we make a swift reverse back round the corner, crisis averted, then look for a way. We need to turn left and take the exit road then cross the highway via a bridge, a diversion we have to take twice before we spot the one lane that’s a continuation of the highway- the extreme right, beside the park booth lanes. But at last we make it…

Anecdotage

Views from the Descent