Vancouver, where the people are as good looking as the city.

As I caught the ferry across the Strait of Georgia for the second time in as many days, I was pretty excited to make my way into Vancouver, a city that I'd noted always rated highly on the livabiility stakes, and a city I'd heard many positive things about. The city had obviously gone through a lot of work to become easily accessible for the Winter Olympics a few years back, and it showed through the ease of which we were able to catch public transportation to our hostel without missing stops or travelling in the wrong direction as in previous cities.

With half a day to kill, we opted for the standed 'amble down to the waterfront when you have nothing else to do', and the impressive view of North Van across the Vancouver Harbor was occasionally interuppted by skyplanes setting off. The contrasting of surrounding mountains, water and forrests combined well as the nature provided an aesthetic backdrop to the teeming metropolis.

We decided to hit up a pro-am comedy night at a bar several blocks away from our hostel, a move almost as risky as deciding to sit by ourselves on the Greyhound busses of late on the hope that the bus doesn't get full enough or pick up enough passengers and having to share a seat with a stranger. The comedy was hit and miss, much like the food and drinks on offer. I couldn't convince anyone to split a massive bowl of nachos with me (they wouldn't get close to eating a fair share, apparently), and the heftier Vancouver drink prices (compared to the US) were a a bit of a dampener.

With different agendas, the next day the three of us went off in different direction the next day. After being dissuaded from seeing the Capilano Suspension bridge by its $35 price-tag, I headed up to the apparently equally as stunning, less touristy and free Lynn Valley National Park which also contains a suspension bridge. I've always found getting off a bus at the last stop a weird feeling. When the engine stops and the driver looks around at you and tells you that's as far as he goes, there's always a sense that you could be stuck in the middle of nowhere for a while. In a way it's kind of like the prelude to an adventure.

My public transport gaff turned movie opening did not disappoint as I trekked through, across and over streams falls and waterfalls before coming to the bridge in question. Despite the thick sturdy chains suspending it over a 50 metre drop, it was hard not to feel uneasy walking across, no thanks in part to the young kids terrorizing their parents as they moved the bridge by way of jumping and swinging.

Moving further south to Stanley Park, a sprawling park that acts as the junction point between north and central Vancouver, and the decision to opt against hiring a bike again was a tiring decision, but rewarding experience as I continued to work off the curry I had for lunch whilst had the freedom to walk wherever I wanted wihtout having to dismount from a bike and rush to have it back in time as had been the case in days gone by.

I met back up with Mike and Harry in town who had acquainted themselves with the Vancouver Southsiders, the supporters group for the MLS (Major League Soccer) side the Vancouver Whitecaps. A brilliant pint of Rickards Red (second only to Rickards White as the best Canadian beer) and some fries and aoli later and the men in white were on their way, marching from the historical Doolin's pub to BC Place, the Winter Olympic Stadium turned home of the Whitecaps.

As I was following the Vancouver Southsiders (Whitecaps fans) down on their march to the game today, a homeless man got the fright of his life as dozens of singing and shouting supporters passed by. After making eye contact with me and then noticing I was taking photos of the supporters, he decided to throw his arms up in the air and dance along. As I walked past he extended his arm and gave me a fist bump. It was pretty cool. A few minutes later I realised I should have given him some change, but as it happened the thought didn't cross my mind, as 'in the moment' as we both were.

After as a group deciding a day trip to Whistler would be money better spent on extra time elsewhere, in addition to it being a transportational headache the next day when due back in Seattle, we opted to spend another day in Vancouver. After an amble across the Granville Street  Bridge and past Granville Island, I headed through the trendy Kitsilano District, before catching a bus to the University of British Columbia. 

Disappointingly, with the college year out, my interaction with college types was limited to observing a variety of athletes practice, from rugby players (terrible) to cheerleaders (less so). The sheer grandiosity of the campus and its facilities was something to behold, with some arenas being professional size and quality, most notably the $45 million ice hockey arena that hosted games during the Olympics.

Kitsilano Beach was a short sidetrack on the way home, and as I traversed through crowds of sunbathers lapping up the mid 20 degree weather and collegiate aged students throwing footballs to each other, I regretted not coming more prepared to a quick beach dip.

After rendezvouing back at the hostel, we continued on our disciplined approach to limting our spending after the expensive couple of weeks up the west coast of the states and set about finding a cheap place to eat. After several weeks of living off massive american portions, we were disgusted at the expensive Vancouver standard of living result in “Perth Prices” (our tongue-in cheek jab at the prices we pay in Perth... which given the high wages are probably not that bad, but that's another story). We ended up settling in at a small bar which offerred discounted food, seemingly on the hope that you'd buy a few drinks (ie Beef sliders being $1 each with a drink purchase etc). Given our temporary and overt thriftiness, our decision not to purchase a drink with our meals must have irked the wait staff (who receive more tips the more drinks they serve), and after being asked on three or four occassions if we wanted drinks, I felt we were demoted to annoying customers. The apaghetti and meatballs they dished up was quite nice, though, for the record.

Vancouver Harbour

View from Burrard Street Bridge

Downtown Vancouver

Lynn Canyon Suspension Bridge

Beaver Lake, Stanley Park

Beaver Lake, Stanley Park

Homeless man on the walk to BC Place

Harry and Mike outside BC Place

Along the Seawall

Along the Seawall

Along the Seawall

Thunderbirds Field, University of British Columbia (UBC)

Thunderbirds Field, UBC

Kitsilano Beach

Ladner, Vancouver Island and Elk

Crossing the border over to Canada was a simple, yet interesting affair. Our first experience with Greyhound buses gave us an insight into budget transport, with the bus itself being in as haggard of a state as the people riding it. I was unsuccessful in my attempts to sleep, in part due to the state of the bus and the air conditioning being a tad too high, but also in part due to my pre-bus reading consisting of news reports of an infamous "incident" that took part on a greyhound bus several years ago (Google it if you're daring). The blue collar journey was very helpful to our finances however, setting us back a mere $18.

Immigration interrogated us a bit more than we had predicted, but we had no issues getting across the border, before wandering up the highway for a good mile or so, away from the massive queues of traffic and waited for our lift. If three men carrying massive backpacks up a highway wasn't enough to attract weird looks from the masses of seniors heading along in their tour busses, three young men kicking an Australian Rules football in a carpark next to said backpacks probably would.   Our impromptu game of kick to kick ended shortly thereafter though, as we were picked up by Mark, a family friend of Harry's, and taken to his home in Ladner.

Our stay in Ladner, an old fishing village and now smaller rural town about 40 minutes out of Vancouver, would be short but sweet. After a guided tour through the farming and fishing sites of the town, we settled in for a couple of drinks at Speed's pub. A very homely establishment, we easily spent a few hours there chatting up a storm with Mark and his friends, before heading back to his house to sample some Elk burgers. Yes, Elk. Mark is an avid hunter and was as eager to get us to sample his catch as we were try to try it.  Tasting like a very lean beef, the burgers did not disappoint, even though we'd grown sick of anything resembling fast food. Appetite satisfied, we managed to fit in a premiere screening of Breaking Bad (it's not the same with ads) via one of the in excess of 900 channels on the cable system.

After resisting the temptation to watch copious amounts of trashy TV and instead sleep, we awoke and headed down to their Tsawwassen Port to catch a ferry to Vancouver Island, making it with minutes to spare. A bus ride from the port in Vancouver Island later, and we were riding our bikes along the shores of Victoria in Vancouver Island. The chilly Pacific Coast breeze was just as refreshing as our drinks on the wharf that accompanied our fish and chips in what was a relaxing end to a nice start to our exploration of Canada. 

Ladner

Elk Burgers

Vancouver Island Foreshore

Rock music and rock climbing in Seattle

After one of the shortest driving trips we encountered so far, a mere three hours from Portland to Seattle, we arrived early in the day with plenty of time to tick off a few sights around the place. Seattle Place was home to the grandiose, but slightly smaller than expected Space Needle (it's presence in the Seattle Skyline is much less prominent than I had previously thought), whilst also being home to the Experience Music Project, a striking and indescribable looking building the houses a plethora of rock music memorabilia, paying special attention to local rock icons Nirvana. Turns out they have more than one song.

A novel yet practical trip along the monorail (queue Simpsons reference) took us down to the waterfront to experience the Pike Place Market. It appeared to be winding down given our late afternoon arrival, but were still able to witness the fish catching antics and jovial personalities surrounding. A few stopoffs at some notable rock music venues and pubs were our final real agenda items before arriving with Justin, our couchsurfing host in the northwest of Seattle.

With two full days ahead of us in Seattle and a fair bit of time to kill, we joined Justin, an avid hiker, on what he described as a 1.5 hour "hike" up Mt Si. Needless to say, that 1.5 hours for a seasoned hiker is not quite the same for someone who decides to partake in said hike in $20 sneakers. About six hours and 14 kilometres later, and we wearily arrived back at Justin's car, muscles aching that we didn't know existed. Whilst the pain has lasted for a few days yet, the memory of the views from atop the 4000 feet summit above the clouds is something will hopefully last a bit longer.

We managed to hobble along the next day to Safeco Field to take in America's favourite past-time.  The journey was made even worse when the hostel we had booked refused to acknowledge our booking, despite having written confirmation, and left us to find our own accomodation elsewhere. With good luck, rather than good management, we managed to find a hostel that was even closer to the game, and closer to where we needed to be the next day. But back to the baseball. The Mariners had lost the night before to the Rangers, but a strong performance from Felix Hernandez and my new (first) cult hero Ichiro Suziki kept the Rangers scoreless in what was a well celebrated 7-0 victory to the home side, and a great finish to our time in Seattle.

Pike Place Fish Market

Space Needle

Space Needle and EMP Museum

EMP Museum

Justin looking out from Mt Si

Safeco Field

Oregon and glimpses of snow

After leaving the surprisingly cold weather of San Francisco, we headed further north to the greener pastures of Oregon. An 11 hour journey was ahead of us, and we'd heard of sunnier times further up north, so we were quite enthusiastic to venture into Portland, our first main stop in the Pacific North West.

Before we got there though, after a lengthy six hours of driving we spent the night in Klamath Falls which was probably our first real experience of a smaller town that would more commonly be described as well, backcountry. The town had its small pockets of extremely humble and quiet housing, yet still contained all the large shopping chains and a fairly built up highway throughout, most likely as it seemed to be some sort of regional hub, and also because of its proximity to Crater lake, which we would visit the next day.

San Francisco: A city of highs and lows.

After the memorable drive up the Pacific Coast Highway, our arrival into the city of San Francisco was slightly underwhelming. Some misinformation resulted in a taxi ride from our car rental drop-off to our hostel costing a little bit more than we had hoped, and our hopes to catch a quick glimpse of the Golden Gate Bridge were dashed by the ever present fog that swallows the city.

Pacific Coast Highway and The Big Sur

Normally I wouldn't dedicate an entire post to describing a drive, but the trip up the Pacific Coast Highway (PCH), or California 1, is undoubtedly one of the best drives I have ever done, and probably will ever do.

The Pacific Coast Highway, especially the section throughout the Big Sur is frequently named as one of America's iconic drives, and the rugged and tranquil route throughout the coastal mountains has inspired many artists, from writers to musicians over the years.

San Diego and American tradition

After the customary and enjoyable American later than usual check-out of 11:00am, we set off on the longest drive we had encountered thus far, a 326 mile (525km) leg from Vegas to the supposed sunny south and San Diego. After trekking back over much of the same interstate we had traversed a few days earlier, we picked up lunch in the very Greek and slightly tacky Mad Greek Restaurant that promotes itself as having the best Gyros in all of the USA. Good? Yes. Best? We'll see.

There was a distinct and welcome change in the landscape as we got closer to San Diego, as the dry desert plains were suddenly hilly outcrops, then green mountains further toward the coast. Expecting to arrive in a warm, sunny climate, we were slighty disappointed to find the weather cool and slightly overcast. Locally, it turns out this weather is known as Grey May/June Gloom and is apparently much worse this year than years gone by.

V is for Vegas. And vomit.

From the moment we set foot in Vegas, it was clear that the city would live up to its name as an adults' playground. We had made the half day or so drive from Vegas in a fairly relaxed fashion, with a couple of enjoyable stops along the way. Calico, our main stop off, is a 'ghost-town' located out of California, although  it should probably lose it's "ghost town" status given the significant amount of tourist based stalls and buildings that have set up shop there. Regardless, it had some interesting aspects and buildings and, along with our stop off at the 'World's Largest Themometer' in Baker, broke up the six hour or so trip nicely.