Canoeing and Pyramid Mountain

Hello again! Right, time for a couple of the things I've actually gone and done in the local area. Sometime back in June, I think. Yes, well. Anyway. First, canoeing on Pyramid Lake!

Pyramid Lake is about an hours walk from the main town along a lovely wooded trail that takes you past the stables (more on those later) and the absolutely beautiful Patricia Lake:

The water here is a truly fantastic colour. It varies according to rainfall, which alters the concentration of rock flour, and the angle and intensity of sunlight. I was fortunate enough to have a particularly good day for the colour on this lake, though Pyramid was a little duller. One of the other fun aspects of the terrain is that the varying flow in the different glacial lakes means that the colour of adjacent lakes is rarely quite the same.

And here is Pyramid Lake, under the majestic Pyramid Mountain! And the unusually purple forest. It's really very sad that so much of the forest has succumbed to pine beetle infestation, but it really is quite striking. Not quite as traditional as the deep green of a healthy forest, but quite picturesque.

It was a pretty windy day, which made progressing across the lake a little awkward, but manageable.

Either way, I can heartily recommend this as a way to spend an hour. Or three, if you include the walk. 

And a rare selfie, just to prove it's still me

Now, Pyramid Mountain. According to some of the records I've found, it used to be called Priest's Mountain. I haven't found a conclusive reason as to why, but I suspect it's linked to the same French (or possibly Belgian) Jesuit priest who is supposed to have named Maligne Canyon. Either way, it didn't gain the name Pyramid Mountain till 1859. Great Uncle Jack has some... interesting... things to say about it. For one thing, he always refers to it as 'The Pyramid' or 'The Priest's Pyramid'. I assume that he is simply being whimsical with his descriptions, though it appears that he may have confused himself (aided no doubt by the 'Piskie Blood'). Sadly the passage which deals most directly with 'the pyramid' is rather badly damaged. I've typed up as much as I can, but thanks to the sections rendered illegible by water damage, burns, and what I'm fairly sure are tea stains, what's left doesn't really make a lot of sense. You'll see what I mean.

The pyramid looms over everything, its dark, steep sides marked and broken by... and the passage of time. The peak, capped with bright... reflects the light of ... harsh, and bright, tracking across the land beneath, as... from east to west.

Approaching from the south, by use of ... and climbing equipment, we gained access to the lower... 

...dark hindered our ascent, despite... not the time to explore fully, we pressed on... narrow and winding, with twists and turns that seemed to defy reason...Reached our goal...remarkable...markings...technology...

And from there it becomes entirely illegible. Interestingly, this seems to be one of the rare occasions that Uncle Jack has actually revisited his own notes, as there's a later addition in the margin:

I had intended to return and restore these notes, as well as to undertake a more thorough exploration, and attempt a translation, with the knowledge I have since gained. Unfortunately, they've gone and put a bloody mountain on top of the thing. I doubt that I shall ever make it back inside now.

As mentioned, I strongly suspect that he has simply confused himself over the years, thanks to the drink and drugs. The alternative, that there is an actual pyramid somehow concealed under Mount Pyramid, is simply silly.

A small update

Hello all! Sorry it's been a while since the last update, there's been rather a lot going on. I started planning a restructuring of the blog, then got hit with a combination of norovirus, covering for colleagues who were ill, and then recovering from all of that. Suddenly all of August was gone, and I hadn't written a thing.
So, blog plans! I've ended up with a bit of a backlog of things, and am going to have a go at shorter, weekly updates, and alternate between what I've been up to, and going through Uncle Jack's old notes. The exact frequency of which happens when remains to be seen. Might take a while to get all of that setup and ready, but hopefully, that should be starting in a fortnight.

In the meantime, to actually stick to the intended theme of Canadian eccentricities, here are some fancy sweet tins:

And a very nice set of bitters from a Canadian company, with a range of interesting flavours, such as charred cedar, praire rose and mango and saffron:

Also, I've been tinkering with a bit of photo editing. Here are a few updates of older shots- some enhanced, some that now look more like what I could see, but not capture.

Maligne Canyon and a spot of history

One of the very first walks I went on when I arrived in Jasper, back in March, was at Maligne Canyon. Thanks to steep paths and packed snow, I didn't get terribly far and decided to save it till I had been on a longer walk there. Well, since you need to drive or set aside most of a day to walk to the canyon and back from Jasper, that still hasn't happened. However, I did get to repeat most of the route that I did the first time as part of a more recent tour, and the difference that just a few months have made is remarkable.

                                 

Here, for example, is the waterfall near the top of the trail as it was back in March.

And here is that same waterfall at the end of June. Just a couple of months and an almost 20-degree rise in temperature makes quite a substantial difference.

Not quite the same shot, but the same bit of canyon. It really is a beautiful spot, and I can't wait to get back and finally do the full walk.

               

I'm sure that the lighting and colours in the scenery make a rather large difference, but I think my photography has improved a bit too.

Apparently, the whole canyon used to be a part of the underground karst system that connects a lot of the lakes and rivers in the areas, until a glacier ripped the top off as the ice age started to recede. The result of which is that we get this beautiful bit of scenery, as well as a bit of an idea as to how things look in the various other underground channels.

Something I wasn't quite in time to organise when I arrived, but which I hope I get to try in October/November, is walking along the ice floor of the canyon when it's frozen. It looks like it should be a remarkable experience.

Another feature of the canyon are the chockstones, large boulders that have tumbled into the canyon and stuck there. And whilst it may not be terribly dramatic in winter, in summer it provides what I think may be my favourite photo of the trip so far.

The mist from the waterfall provides the perfect backdrop. This is a truly fantastic place, and I cannot recommend visiting highly enough.

As far as I can tell, Uncle Jack never visited the canyon- I certainly can't find anything in his notes about it, anyway. So instead, this seems to be a good time to provide a bit of extra information about the world he lived in and his travelling arrangments.
So, at this point in Jack's travels, it is 1810. Britain is at war with the French Empire under Napoleon. Humphry Davy has discovered chlorine, through experimentation with a voltaic pile, and Lord Byron has swum the Hellespont. At present, these events are held to be largely unconnected.
In Uncle Jack's home county of Cornwall, Richard Trevithick has been experimenting with high-pressure steam power since 1801 and has constructed a number of functioning locomotives. At the same time, belief in pixies and the like is widespread.
Meanwhile, in Canada, David Thompson has set out to navigate the length of the Columbia River. It is this trip that will eventually lead to him being shown a path through the Athabasca Pass in 1811. This was the expedition upon which they encountered the tracks of what David Thomspon argued was a large bear, but was held by other members of the expedition to be either a Sasquatch or a young mammoth. Legend had it that the area near the head of the pass was home to creatures of unusual size, and it was these that Jack had come to investigate. In the words of the great cartographer himself:

Report from old times had made the head branches of this River, and the 

      Mountains in the vicinity the abode of one, or more, very large animals, 

      to which I never appeared to give credence; for these reports appeared 

      to arise from that fondness for the marvellous so common to mankind: but 

      the sight of the track of that large a beast staggered me, and I often 

      thought of it, yet never could bring myself to believe such an animal 

      existed, but thought it might be the track of some Monster Bear.

Recorded in a posting to the IVBC, 1995 Henry Franzoni, Oregon

To that end, Uncle Jack had brought a remarkable array of equipment. I shan't run through the full list of food and clothing, not least because his record keeping is as haphazard as always, but I think this is a good time to mention some of his most used, and most unusual pieces of monster hunting equipment.

Starting with one that's already been mentioned: the voltaic pile and Luminiferous Array. Bearing in mind that at this point the aether theory of light prevails, here's Uncle Jack's description:

By means of an array of movable arc lamps, lenses and mirrors, it is possible to erect not just a boundary of light rays, but a wide variety of Aetheric Constructions, the light being used to affect the flow of aether in a localised area... The result being akin to that ancient principle of the Magic Circle, but affected by means of Science, it is of great value in dealing with Beings and Forces that dwell more in the Aetheric Realm than in the Material... The great limitation is the need for Voltaic Piles to provide power for the lamps, restricting me to mere minutes of operation. Candles or oil lamps may be substituted if necessary, but the reduction in the flow of light greatly diminishes the strength of the aetheric field.

This is possibly the best example of Uncle Jack's approach to this sort of thing. If a 'normal' magic circle works with candles, then one made with arc lamps (recently invented by Humphry Davy) should be better.

UPDATE: I've found the diagram for the 'luminiferous pentagram'!

On another page in the same box there's mention of 'notes damaged in an accident with an arc lamp', of which I would assume this is one, but Uncle Jack also says that all the results and observations survived. Hopefully, those may include the notes regarding his experiments at the tower, so keep an eye out for those!

Sadly he doesn't describe any of the rest of his equipment in any detail, so I have pieced together the rest of this from situational descriptions and passing mentions:

• The Galvanic Harpoon- This seems to have been a cart or tripod mounted weapon, based on a modified swivel gun. It would seem that Jack added a second iron, along with a pair of electrical cables, each attached to one iron, and to one of the terminals of a set of Leyden jars. The net results being that once the two irons embed themselves in the target, the circuit was completed. Essentially, it was a very early taser- just one that delivered a single, massive shock with a tendency to set things on fire instead of a paralyzing burst. Possibly something to do with why it never caught on. At some point, he seems to have created a shoulder-mounted version as well, but to have limited its use thanks to severe recoil-related bruising.

• Cold-Iron Blunderbuss- A relatively straightforward piece of equipment, this one. Based on the old folklore of iron being inimical to fey creatures, witches and the like, it would seem that Jack fitted a conventional blunderbuss with some sort of replaceable lining allowing him to load it with iron shot instead of lead- and occasionally even stranger projectiles.

• Aetheric Carbine- I honestly don't know how this thing was supposed to work. The idea seems to have been to channel a bright pulse of light (provided by a spark cap and a Leyden jar) through an array of crystal lenses (primarily quartz?) in such a way as to create an 'aetheric pulse', capable of stunning and incapacitating a creature 'in direct proportion to the aetheric sensitivity of the beast in question', whatever that means. It seems to be worth noting that even Jack considered this weapon to be somewhat experimental and unreliable.

• Fulminating Arquebus- This would seem to be Jack's modification of the 1807 scent-bottle lock. As usual, it would appear that he took things a step futher, and developed some kind of fulminate based explosive projectiles. How he made that work I really don't know- the key seems to have been swapping mercury fulminate for some other sort of fulminate. But since he never specifies fulminate of what, exactly, it's a little hard to be sure. Either way, it seems to have had substantial destructive power, and to have been Jack's last resort for when something needed to be killed rather than captured, complete with an array of specialised shells.

Those seem to have been his four most notable pieces of equipment, alongside an array of nets, cages, food and so on- and some rather unusual transportation, which I shall cover in more detail next time. As well as that pyramid I mentioned last time. I haven't forgotten, but decided I should probably cover some of this first.

And so, till next time, here's a tiny wild strawberry:

Old Fort Point

A change of format here. Rather than using lots of photographs, I shall be taking a more descriptive approach to this walk (which is also part of why this one has taken a bit longer to write). If that's not your thing, I understand, feel free to skip this one. In the meantime, here we go!

On the far side of the railway and road, there is a small path past scrubland and pine forest. This path winds on through the spruce, pine and cedar that line the banks of the Athabasca River until it reaches a bridge, painted a dark and vibrant green that matches the waters of the river below.

On the far side of this bridge, at the base of a deeply wooded cliff, is a small carpark. And a set of wooden steps, but we shall ignore those for now. The carpark itself is not very interesting, as carparks seldom are, but it marks the start point of the majority of the good walks accessible from Jasper on foot. And the start of this walk is just to the left of those stairs that we're ignoring.

And straight away the path plunges into dense pine woods, full of a deep and primaeval atmosphere that swiftly banishes thoughts of anything so mundane as carparks or railways. Every gap between the trees is covered with a dense, soft, pale green moss. Just a minute or two along the path, around the second corner, a tumble of rocks and boulders lies to the right of the path, erratics from the glaciers that carved these valleys. There is clear space between the rocks, and small pines on top of the larger ones, creating a deeply sheltered atmosphere within this tiny clearing. It almost feels like a natural gazeebo or pagoda of some sort.

The first time that I walked this path I had a strange sensation regarding a difference between this and a typical English forest- particularly one such as the New Forest which, despite its name, has been inhabited and managed (to some extent) for more than a thousand years. These woods felt fresh and young, somehow, lacking the weight of history that I have always felt in the ancient forests of home. This initially seemed to be a very odd and inaccurate idea. Perhaps it was simply that the individual trees were younger, being a different species, but surely the forests had to be about as old, and have a similar history of human interaction, even if in a very different way. As it turns out, that first instinct was strangely accurate. I didn't know it at the time, but before the arrival of the Hudson Bay Company and their trading post, the area surrounding the five valleys and associated peaks had been considered too rugged and inhospitable for permanent habitation. As such, it had only been used for trade between the First Nations, which seems to have been (relatively) scarce before the influence of the European appetite for fur.
Given that the Old Fort for which Old Fort Point was named (more on that later) wasn't established until 1811, it would seem that this area of woodland has seen regular visitors for less than 200 years. All things considered, I think it's probably down to young trees and an interesting coincidence, but since it was one of the main impressions that stayed with me throughout the walk, I felt that I should mention it.

After a while, the path begins to rise as it winds its way towards the crest. On the right-hand side of the path the woods remain pine and spruce, while on the left the soil changes, and the trees give way to silver birch. A short way along this path there was a mutually surprising encounter between myself and a ruffed grouse, a very pretty and well-camouflaged bird which I quite failed to get any pictures of. A little further on from that, the path splits. A shorter, steeper route turns right into rocky ground, while a longer, gentler path continues in woodland ahead. The first time I walked this trail there was a small stream of meltwater running down from the longer path, which although very scenic did make it rather muddy going.

The two paths rejoin near a rocky outcrop just below the summit, and at the site of a remarkable change in terrain. Whilst the base of the cliffs are lush and green, the top of the hill is remarkably dry, with vegetation that puts me more in mind of southern France and the Mediterranean than anything else. I had the good fortune to crest this part of the hill at the same moment the sun finally broke through the cloud, and was greeted both with a burst of heat and light, and a fantastic scent of fir, cedar, and juniper.
A little way further on from this, there is a diversion to the right, and at the back of this rise are two red chairs, facing the mountains to the south of the town and hill. The view from this point is spectacular. Mountains stretch right across the horizon, and the forest that clusters at their bases create swathes of colour. The skeletons of bone-white birch, yet to burst into leaf, the ghostly grey of pines that have fallen prey to pine beetle, the reds and purples of those pines which have yet to succumb, and the green of spruce, fir, and cedar.

Turning back toward the town, the path descends again a little, then rises to a large rocky outcrop, the highest point on the hill. From there you get an excellent view of the river, town, and some of the surrounding lakes.

From here, the trail descends a grassy slope, frequented by the Bighorn sheep that inhabit the area.

After negotiating a narrow stepped path of cut and natural stone, the ground levels out and brings you back to the top of that staircase that we ignored at the beginning. From there, it's a short descent back to the carpark at the start of the trail. A very convenient ending to a wonderfully scenic and varied walk.

Now, that Old Fort that I mentioned. According to the book Jasper-Robson: A taste of heaven, by Don Beers, the point is named for Henry House. Henry House was definitely built about 20 minutes walk away from the summit in 1811, as a staging post for David Thompson's expedition of the Athabasca River. According to the plaque that stands at, or near, the site, it wasn't finally abandoned until 1830. According to the book, it was abandoned in 1814, and named 'The Old Fort' in 1817 by a man called Ross Cox as a joke, since even in its heyday it was little more than a shelter and storage shed, and a few years after that, no one could even find it any more.
Obviously, there is some contradiction here. Overall, I am more inclined to believe the plaque, but the version in this book is the only explanation I have found for the origin of the name.
Interestingly, Great Uncle Jack's notes have something to say on this, though as per usual they provide more questions than answers. There are several entries, all un-dated, as always, but I believe I have managed to get them in the right order. Which one comes first is pretty clear:

Construction has begun on another supply depot for a forthcoming expedition of the Athabasca River, by a bend in the river beneath the shadow of The Great Tower on the hill, which some call The Old Fort. In my opinion, it is ill-advised to build so near to the ancient Moonstone Spire. I have only just begun my investigations, but already have cause to believe that the Powers invoked by this structure are far from dormant.

...

It is with great sadness that I have learned of the disappearance of The Old Fort. I have searched the area thoroughly, manually and with all my most sensitive instruments. There is no trace of anything Electric, Magnetic or Gravitic, but there are signs of a great Aetheric eddy, through which it may have slipped. This shall require further study. I believe that whatever agency is behind this is also responsible for the disappearance of the Pyramid, and likely much else of that which has been lost.

...

Both structures are gone, now. Few people in town remember the latter, and none the former. Better that than it remain and be remembered, but better yet, perhaps, that we had left well alone. Even so, I wish that I had studied it better while I had the chance.

...

There is another entry that seems to be connected to the first, based on mentions of 'Moonstone' and towers, but... well, read it and see for yourself.

 From the outside, it bears a strong resemblance to the Round Towers of Ireland, being 20 feet across at the base, and sharing that unusual feature of a single arched door raised some 7 feet above the ground. There are no signs of windows or other features in the 50 feet of structure that remain. The upper portions have clearly been removed by some tremendous force, but as there is no sign of rubble or other ruins in the area, it is almost impossible to estimate the hight to which this tower once stood.
It is constructed of a smooth white stone, quite distinct from the sedimentary geology of the area. I have found no natural samples of this rock so far, and having no desire to damage this tower my study of it has been limited. In the tower, however, it exhibits a remarkable luminosity. Under moonlight, it seems almost to glow, though I suspect this is due to some manner of 'resonant reflection' rather than true luminosity.

Having procured a ladder from the nearby trading post, I have entered the tower. The thickness of the walls give me reason to believe that this tower may have been 140 feet tall, perhaps more. There is no indication of internal structure or furnishing.
I have made two observations which cause me to question the nature of this tower.
 The first is that from the inside, the walls appear to rise to a greater height than from the outside, and to end in a shattered dome, of which there is no sign from the exterior. It may be a trick of perspective, or the difficulty of taking measurements within the confines of the tower, but I would estimate the height of the walls from the inside to be 250 feet, if not more. 
The second is that from inside the positions of the stars appear to change. By day there is no sign of this phenomenon, and the sun tracks across the sky as one would expect. By night, I cannot find a single recognisable constellation from within the tower.

I await the baggage train which carries the rest of my equipment. Once it arrives, I intend to make use of my arc lamps, voltaic pile and mirror array to establish a luminiferous pentagram and then conduct further experiments.

You see what I mean. I haven't found any notes regarding those experiments or results yet, but I'll keep looking.

Lake Beauvert

Good news! I've finally made it out and about on a few walks around the local area. And here's a bit about the first one, around Lake Beauvert.

A beautiful blue-green glacial lake, just the other side of the Athabasca River from Jasper. The path from the town to the lake runs alongside the river for the majority of its length, though when I walked this route the river was mostly dry. Nevertheless, the path lined with spruce, pine and cedar trees and an abundance of squirrels was delightful. I certainly intend to repeat this walk with the river in full flow, whenever that happens.

There are three primary species of squirrel in the area. The American Red Squirrel, the Colombian Ground Squirrel, and the Golden Mantled Ground Squirrel. I'm fairly certain that I've seen at least one of each, though as one of the traits they seem to share is being difficult to photograph (as well as rather natty white eyeliner) I'm not entirely certain.

This one is definitely a Colombian Ground Squirrel 

And I'm pretty sure that this one's a Red Squirrel

I don't have a picture of the Golden Mantled Ground Squirrel, though I'm fairly confident that I've seen one. They look more or less the same as the red squirrels, but with some rather fetching black and white stripes down their sides. Perhaps that has something to do with why they go faster and are harder to photograph.
They are all surprisingly noisy creatures as well, and what I initially thought was unusual birdsong was, in fact, the chattering and squeaking of squirrels. And a very pleasant sound it is too.

There wasn't much else in the way of wildlife on this walk. There were a few Loons and Canada geese out on the lake, but no elk or bears or anything like that.

The remarkable green colour stems from finely ground particles of glacial stone, known as rock flour. These are ground up during the winter when the lakes and rivers are frozen and then released to float in the lakes and reflect the sunlight. Not only does this give a particularly clear and vibrant colour, but also one that shifts and changes with the light and viewing angle. It's also quite different from Great Uncle Jack's ideas about the place.

There are a series of lakes in the area of the proposed Lodge, of a most vibrant and remarkable hue. It is my theory that the colour of these lakes, being an intense green, must derive from a great concentration of dissolved copper salts. This would indicate that there must be a grand deposit of copper ore within these mountains, likely suitable for a grand mineworking. I shall begin work on the design of pitheads and the associated Engines, as soon as I am satisfied that the woods are free of Sasquatch, and the lakes free of Ogopogo.

All in all, it would seem to be just as well that he never got round to implementing many, or indeed any, of his plans for the Rockies, or there might not be much of them left. 

It might sound like a rather obvious thing to say, but the landscape is about as stereotypically Canadian as I could have imagined. While walking here I couldn't help but think of the old folk song 'Land of the Silver Birch'. No moose or beavers that day, but blue lakes and rocky shores aplenty. I hadn't really thought about it till then, but my expectations of what Canada should be like had been quite heavily influenced by that song and 'Asterix in America'. I'm pleased to say that reality does not disappoint. The landscape here is magnificent, and I shall show you more of it over the coming weeks.

A brief diversion...

Before we begin this post properly, a small announcement- I've recently moved to a different position at work, which has resulted in a substantial change of schedule. Normal service should be restored soon-ish, but everything may be somewhat erratic while I get used to things and find the time both to go and do things and write about them. There should be semi-regular (ish) updates on the new Instagram to go alongside this blog, over at https://www.instagram.com/eccentric_canada/

That having been said before I get too deep into my explorations of the local area, there is a rather important gentleman I need to introduce to you all- my Great Uncle Jack. First of all, there should be a few extra 'greats' in there, but I can't be bothered to check how many or type them all out, so Great Uncle Jack he shall remain.

Great Uncle Jack was a Cornish mining engineer and, unusually, supernatural pest control consultant. Not a common job, even in late 18th/early 19th century Cornwall, but it seems that if you had Knockers or Spriggans causing trouble in your mine, Jack was the man to call. At some point during his career, someone, presumably a Cornish expat, invited him to travel to Canada to help with surveying and research in the area of the proposed site of a trading post (Jasper House, later built in 1813).
Although accurate dates are missing from most of Jack's records, we know that he spent a few years in the country, both before and after the construction of the trading post. Best guess at present is that he was in Canada between 1810 and 1815, and travelled a fair proportion of the country in that time. I will be doing my best to follow his route, although probably not in the right order, and relay his notes to you as best I can.

That having been said, I feel like I should do my best to tell you a little more about the man himself, and give some idea (or possibly warning) of what to expect.

These are not pictures of Great Uncle Jack. They are, in fact, pictures of Tsar Nicholas II and Walt Whitman respectively, since no pictures of Jack have survived. Assuming any were taken in the first place, that is. However, based on the rare and fragmented descriptions of him that I have found in other people's writing, these represent my best guesses as to what he would have looked like.

Not Great Uncle Jack, but Tsar Nicholas the Second. Possibly a bit like how Jack would have looked in about 1810, though. Although dressed rather differently, of course.

Also not Great Uncle Jack, but Walt Whitman, and almost certainly how both he and Jack looked in 1887.

As mentioned, he began his career in Cornwall, clearing mines of various supernatural creatures (allegedly). During this time he gained a fair degree of experience in mine engineering and the operation of various steam engines, as well as some very strange ideas about the supernatural and the nature of the universe.

It was this that lead to his being invited to travel to Alberta by an employee of the Hudson Bay Company, whose name has been lost to time, who happened to also be a member of the Cryptozoological Association of the Rockies. The members of this group, or the CZARs as they liked to call themselves (and as they were never called by anyone else, despite repeated requests) had a fascination with exploring the Canadian wilderness, from the Yukon through to Nunavut. They believed the entire area to be one of the last great wildernesses and home to almost all non-tropical mythical beasts. The Rocky Mountains held a particular fascination for them, as the believed it to be a key nesting area and migration route for everything from Sasquatch to Mountain Unicorns- the mountain goat equivalent of normal unicorns, and a creature that I can find no record of anywhere else.

These were the people who had hired Jack to scout the area for creatures such as Sasquatch, Ogopogo (a North American cousin to the Loch Ness Monster), Wendigo and Adlets, and to advise on certain technical aspects of proposed mining and railway projects. Over the course of his association with them, and the international community of 1800's cryptozoologists, Jack undertook a great many peculiar expeditions. Each of which seems to have chipped away slightly at his already reasonably loose grip on reality. By the time he finally disappeared (1891, trying to ascend Mount Everest by dirigible, in order to climb it in reverse) his notes had become almost incomprehensibly mystic and arcane. This seems to be due to a combination of age, medication for his various ailments being mostly morphine and opium, and a concoction he called 'Piskie Blood'. It was this last one that he insisted that kept him going, but since it seems to have been the local hallucinogen of choice dissolved in the strongest liquor available (or his own distillations, if nothing available met his standards) this seems highly unlikely.

As it seems that he never intended or expected anyone else to read these notes, he never bothered with accurate dates. To compound the confusion, he seems to have re-visited many of the key locations from his early years in the international monster hunting business in the latter half of his life. Working out which of his notes came from which visit is more of a challenge than one might expect, and I have adopted a simple rule of thumb that the less realistic it all seems, the later the assumed date. Handwriting offers no help since although one might expect it to change over the years, his notes seem to have overwhelmingly been written in peculiar circumstances, such as on horseback, or up a tree, and in many cases have been rendered illegible by time, rain, tea stains, and in one case a large dollop of custard. The latter is particularly frustrating since it completely obscures the passage supposedly detailing his encounter with a 'Pudding Squid'.

Despite all of this, I shall be doing my best to extract sense from all of this, and where possible I will include pictures of the original notes and sketches, where legibility and the ravages of time permit.

Thank you for your patience while I get things sorted out, and in the meantime here is a free-range Canadian shoelace:

The Journey to Jasper

It's a pretty long way from Vancouver to Jasper. The train journey took almost as long as the flight to Canada in the first place! And if you look at a map, you can see why.

And here's the UK at the same scale, for comparison. It's about the same distance as Land's End to Newcastle-Upon-Tyne, though through somewhat tougher terrain.

And what terrain it is! Admittedly there did seem to be an inverse relationship between the beauty of the scenery and the quantity of sunlight, which was a bit of a shame, but anyway.

So, as you will see, the scenery immediately outside Vancouver isn't terribly...uh...scenic. Inspiring in a bleak-ish sort of way, but not what most people would call beautiful. 

Fortunately, it improves very quickly

Yes, that is a frozen waterfall in the background

And at about the same rate as the scenery improved, the temperature dropped. Which, in places such as the rather impressive frozen waterfall above, also somewhat enhanced the beauty of the area.

This spot is referred to as the Mouth of Hell, if I remember correctly, and is somewhere on the Thompson River. I've tried to look it up and confirm it, but there seems to a surprising shortage of information on the area, at least to that level of detail. A shame, really, as if I had realised I would have taken better notes. I shall be sure to do something about that if I return the same way.

After that picture along the train, the light faded too much for me to get decent pictures,

Kamloops is an... uh... interesting looking place. I'm sure that the rest of it looks better in daylight.

Jasper train station is surprisingly impressive and was a very welcoming sort of place to arrive.

Seeing as this is a rather sparse post, being mostly pictures, this seems like a good time to digress on to a more personal note for a little while.
Settling in is taking a little while, what with adjusting to having a more or less normal job for the first time, a poorly timed cold (hardly surprising) and so on. But I keep coming across things that make me feel very at home here. Just little things, and things that are quite different from back home, really. But they are things that make me feel like this is the right sort of place for me, and that once I have settled in a bit more I will very much enjoy my time in Canada.
Little things like these:

It's a bit hard to read, but it's vanilla and oak flavour. And very nice indeed.

Kombucha, in particular, seems to be everywhere. Well, in Jasper, anyway (along with a very nice yoga studio, which I may cover some other time). But the Canadian reputation for gentle friendliness seems to be extremely well founded. As well as a seemingly less widely spread reputation for low-level oddness, which is making me feel really rather comfortable here. It would seem that a quest to explore the eccentricities of Canada was a rather good idea.

Quite a stroke of luck that, really.