Source: Saskatchewan Agriculture and Food

When Bert Porter established the Honeywood Nursery during the 1930s west of Shellbrook, he likely didn’t suspect he would one day become one of the most celebrated horticulturalists in North America.

The nursery is located on a quarter section about four miles south and one mile west of Parkside. It has operated for over 65 years. Before he passed away in 2000 at the age of 99, Porter had developed nearly 40 different strains of lilies marketed around the world.

In 1971, A.J. Porter received the E.H. Wilson Award, which is the highest award given by the North American Lily Society. A collection of his hybridized lilies was also awarded a Silver Medal at the Stuttgart Outdoor Garden Show.

After his death, the nursery faced potential obliteration until a group of local investors decided to acquire the property and operate it with the help of a dedicated group of volunteers.

David Moe is Chairman of the Board of Honeywood Nursery and one of the shareholders.

“Porter was born in Guilford, England, in 1901. He immigrated to Canada when he was six years old. He grew up on his parents’ farm in Parkside, where he became a schoolteacher. During the early years of the Depression, he struggled to support his family on the meager salary of a teacher. He left the profession and started selling nursery stock, including shrubs, flowers, fruit trees, etc., door to door. If customers were unable to pay for nursery stock when it arrived, he absorbed the loss and planted the stock at his farm.

“At the same time, he also started a market garden featuring strawberries and raspberries. It didn't take him long to realize that many of the varieties of fruit he was growing were not fully hardy for his region. This led to a lifelong pursuit of breeding to produce plants which would be high quality, disease resistant, and hardy for the prairies.”

Moe and his colleagues have inherited a true jewel, and they know it. The mission of Honeywood Heritage Nursery, as they see it, is to preserve, restore and operate it as a Parkside community heritage property. Naturally, this means exploring its tourism potential.

Ian McGilp is Industry Development Manager at Tourism Saskatchewan. He is simply in awe of the resource the nursery constitutes for the tourism industry.

“Many of the flowering crab-apple varieties, like Spring Snow, growing in the yards of residential districts in the province were developed at this place. It is one of those places in Saskatchewanthat is a hidden gem," says McGilp.

“There are different markets for its offerings. There are people who would be interested in seeing the beautiful orchards and flowers at different times of the growing season. In the spring, there are the blossoms. Of course, you have all the apple trees and different fruit trees blossoming. It is just beautiful. The early part of summer—in July—is when the lilies are in bloom, and there are all kinds of varieties of these lilies with all sorts of different colours. Some that are almost jet black in colour; others are pink, rosy and orange, of course, yellow and combinations of those colours.”

Incidentally, three of Bert Porter’s most popular lily introductions are the Earlibird, Happy Thoughts and Flaming Giant varieties. The Flaming Giant variety is known as Moulin Rouge in Holland. It is grown by the hundreds of acres for the cut flower trade.

As the summer unfolds at Honeywood Nursery, new attractions emerge, explains McGilp.

“Later on during the summer, when the fruit has grown and is ready to be picked, you can come and enjoy the preserves made from the fruit. It is fun also to see different kinds of fruit growing on the same tree, as well, because there are some apple trees on which different limbs were grafted which yield different types of apples. I have actually seen different kinds of apples growing on the same tree."

And then there are the fall colours that show up towards the end of September.

“It is a beautiful stop, less than a two-hour drive from Saskatoon, on paved roads all the way, which would be very interesting for people in particular attending conventions in Saskatoon to go through and visit, and lots of photographs and strolls through these groves of trees could be enjoyed," McGilp says.

“The diversity of trees is remarkable, as well. There are all sorts of tree varieties like oak, maple, Siberian larch and birch. I appreciate the greenery and diversity.”

Be sure to catch any of the events that take place at Honeywood Nursery every year. You won’t be disappointed.

For more information, contact:
David Moe
Chair of the Board
Honeywood Heritage Nursery
(306) 747-2275



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Source: Saskatchewan Agriculture and Food

On most days, one can find Whitewood Economic Development Officer Janet Blackstock nurturing her town’s entrepreneurial spirit wherever she can help.

During what free time she has, you might just catch her driving a team of Clydesdales in and around Whitewood, or in the show ring at Canadian Western Agribition.

"I grew up on a farm around a couple of old draught horses," she says. "We played with them when we were kids. We would sit two or three kids on the back of one old horse that we’d drive all over the place. When she’d get tired of us, she’d get down on the ground and roll and we’d jump off like fleas."

"I’m not afraid of them. I had seen them used to pull out manure or stone boats, or pull out a car once in while. I didn’t know how to drive them. I loved them but I certainly didn’t know about this calibre of showmanship or driving, or anything else."

Things changed for Blackstock when she met Harvey MacFarlane of Sanguine Clydesdales in Wolseley.

"As an artist, I love painting teams and I wanted to do it right, so I thought I should get involved with the horses," she says. "I took a driving clinic with Harvey MacFarlane and it triggered something for me. Driving a team is the biggest rush I have ever felt. It’s like driving a 747 to be handling the reins of any of the hitches, but especially any one of the big hitches. They just blow your mind."

Janet Blackstock enjoyed her experience so much that she now has a couple of these big horses living at her place.

"I am driving at home and I take them out to the odd parade and Santa Claus Day and that sort of thing. The Clydes are a little extra care. The big hairy feet are a lot of work, but the horses have the most charming personality. They are very docile, very sweet, nice-tempered. They are just what I need."

Blackstock’s new-found passion took her to Canadian Western Agribition this year as part of the Sanguine stable.

"I was helping show a string of six Clydesdales in the six-horse driving competition—there was the Unicorn and I entered a couple of lady driver classes. It is all about showmanship when you are at a fancy dress show like this."

“There are hours spent in the wash racks cleaning them because they have just come out of a standard yard, so they are in their winter clothes," she says. "They must be clipped; the manes must be braided; their tails are tied; and the harness must be polished, mended and put together. It is a huge amount of preparation to get them ready to go in the ring. You are in there for five or 10 minutes. It is sheer bliss during that period, and then you are out again."

But it is all worth it, Blackstock admits. "The goal is to show off your team well. You have to demonstrate control of the team, move it in a pattern and keep the pace going. They call for a speed up, slow down pattern in the ring. It is important that the team shows itself to its best advantage: heads up, eyes bright; because basically, you are marketing your business."

Breeding Clydesdales and showing them is big business for some, but for Janet Blackstock, it is a labour of love from which she won’t shy away anytime soon.

For more information, contact:
Janet Blackstock
Whitewood, Saskatchewan
(306) 735-2800



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Source: Saskatchewan Agriculture and Food

The Missouri Coteau Escarpment is undoubtedly one of the most evocative landscapes in the province. It literally comes out of North Dakota, extends across Saskatchewan from the southeast to the northwest, and exits out to Alberta.

The Coteau Hills roll and spread—often as far as the eye can see—and agricultural producers are increasingly tapping into the rich heritage with which they are endowed as a means of diversifying their operations.

That is what Doug and Penny MacDonald had in mind when they launched the bed-and-breakfast they call the Chipperfield Inn a few years ago at their place.

“We farm about 18 miles west of Elrose. Between my brother and I, we farm about 4,500 acres. We could round it up to 5,000 acres with the pasture. We run a cow/calf operation with 60 Black Angus cows,” explains Doug MacDonald.

“Penny and I like entertaining. Our kids are grown and our house is plenty large. We have had some guests for upland bird or whitetail deer hunting, and others from as far away as England. Sometimes people come around and they need a place to stay. We are just happy to provide.”

One of the things that makes this place unique is Doug’s passion for blacksmithing.

“One of our good friends moved here from British Columbia. He happened to be a world-class blacksmith. I guess he inspired me. I have always enjoyed welding and working with steel. I took a course at the Western Development Museum (WDM) and built a fully equipped coal-fired forge at the farm,” he says.

“I just finished two sets of large flower pot hangers. I make candleholders, and made a candelabra type light fixture for the house. I have all the primitive tools, and I have been at it for 10 years now. This is something our guests are usually interested in.”

Above all, this is part of the heritage of the Great Plains region. MacDonald is grateful to the WDM for putting on these workshops.

"They bring in experts from the United States and Canada. It helps us ensure we don’t lose the traditions that helped our ancestors make it through the hardships they encountered in this part of the world when they first came."

And it helps provide sustenance today for the MacDonald family.

"We enjoy living on the farm. This is still the best place to raise a family. The bed-and-breakfast, our other activities and the farm income will help ensure that we can watch our kids and grandchildren grow and thrive, from this vantage point. It is a good life."

For more information, contact:
Doug MacDonald
Chipperfield Inn
(306) 378-2767



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Source: Saskatchewan Agriculture and Food

Anyone who has been around horses for any length of time has gotten to know a farrier.

A layman might wonder what it is like to look after horses’ feet for a living, or how long a career lasts, or how many times one gets kicked.

Blaine Friesen is a 23-year-old Saskatoon farrier who is passionate about his calling.

“I’m coming into my fifth year as a farrier," he enthuses. "I have been shoeing my own horses since I was 14 years old in Waldheim. My father used to have a farrier come in, but it was difficult to access him at times, so Dad started to shoe his own horses. When I started to ride lots, I started doing it, too.

“While I was working on a ranch training horses in Alberta, I saw this advertisement in The Western Producer about going to farrier school for two weeks—just to get the gist of it. I figured I’d always have horses, so I should learn how to shoe properly. It was the Canadian Farriers’ School held in Crossfield, Alberta, just outside of Calgary."

Friesen registered for the course and went through the training.

“When I went to school, the instructor came up to me after the first couple of days and asked ‘what are you doing here?’ I said I was taking the course because I’ve always trimmed my own horses and I’d like to know what I am doing. He said, ‘Do you want to be a farrier?’ I said, ‘No.’ He said, ‘Have you ever thought about becoming a farrier?’ I said, ‘No’. He said, ‘I want you to go and think about it.' I said, ‘No.’ Two weeks later I called home and said ‘ I think I’m going to come home and start up a business. My parents said, ‘OK, do what you want to do. You are young enough.’

“I have had my business since I was 19. I’m 23. I’ll do it until my back blows, I guess. Then I’ll have to find something else horse-related.”

It seems wisdom comes early in life to farriers.

“You have to like it if you do the job," says Friesen. "You can’t do it if you hate it. Once you start shoeing, every time you see a horse—or even when you walk into a mall—automatically your mind goes straight to people’s feet and how they are walking. You watch their step to see if their toe and heel break properly. Do their shoes fit the way they walk? It is really funny. You acquire a different view of everything. I even do it with my girlfriend. She is on her feet all day, working. I look at her shoes and think, ‘They don’t have enough of a breakover for you.’ It just comes naturally for you to ask if the shoes fit what you do.”

Early exposure to the trade seems to play a determining role among people who chose this career.

Twenty-five-year-old Loretta Flath of Radisson is another young farrier for whom this profession evolved out of the unique bond between humans and horses, as she experienced and witnessed it as a teenager.

“I was born and raised in Clearwater, B.C., and met a farrier there. When I was grade 11 and 12, I wasn’t really sure what I wanted to do, so he encouraged me to try this. I went out with him one summer and learned how to pull shoes and finish up and did a lot of holding horses for him and watching how he worked.

“I have always had a love for horses, and that is kind of where it stems from. I could watch my farrier friend all day. When I got into it, I just found I had an eye for it.”

Flath loved it so much she took a nine-month course in Advanced Farrier Science at Kwantlen University College in Langley , B.C., after being on a two-year waiting list. She graduated in 2000 and is now a member of the American Farriers Association.

“I have been at it five years… six years," she says. "I love it. It is hard work, but when you enjoy what you are doing, it doesn’t seem nearly as hard. If I take care of myself, I figure I could be a farrier until I’m 65.

The art of the farrier has not evolved much since the Middle Ages, and that takes a toll on the human body.

“The tools we use are still as archaic as they have ever been," explains Flath. "If you want to look at any ergonomic studies, farrier tools are very hard on the human body. Horse shoes—in terms of what they are made of, and how they facilitate shock absorption, traction and flexibility—have really improved. Shoes can be made from steel or aluminium, not just iron any more. There is a lot more technology to choose from. Not so with the tools.”

Where does professional fulfilment come from when you are a farrier? Flath believes much of it stems from helping our horse partners perform with more ease.

“It is always fun and rewarding when you get a lame horse or a horse with movement problems and you are able to improve upon that. I just really enjoy working with the animals, with different horses and different personalities and temperaments and different feet—especially the ability to work with some horses over a long period of time. There are some horses I have been shoeing now since I came out of school. I love to see the changes as they grow and progress in their training.”

For more information, contact:

Blaine Friesen
Farrier
(306) 384-4341
or
Loretta Flath
Farrier
(306) 241-6711



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The 2006 editions of the Britain, U.S.A and Canadian Travel Industry Guides to Canada have named two Great Excursions Co. Ltd. vacation packages among the top five Canadian learning holidays.

The guides, which are distributed to 72,000 travel agents, tour operators, meeting planners and industry professionals throughout the U.S.A., Britain and Canada are influential publications in the tourism trade.

Great Excursions Founder and CEO Claude-Jean Harel expressed how pleased he was with this recognition:

"More than anything, the tourism adventures we stage are about enriching the life of our guests while contributing to the economic, social and environmental sustainability of the communities in which we operate. Obviously, we are delighted to figure in the Guides not only once, but twice. What distinguishes us as a receptive operator is the way we call upon resource experts to bring out the authentic character of destinations and products-and in how we communicate that to the consumer."

The Canadian Travel Industry Guides describe learning travel as "the hottest trend for the new millennium vacationer." This popularity can be attributed partly to changes in the reasons why people travel and seek new types of leisure activities.

The soft adventures and walking tours proposed by Great Excursions are indicative of consumers' increasing level of sophistication. "Great Excursions' Regina Old Warehouse District Tours by night sold out within days last year," Harel points out, "because of their production value but also because of the educational opportunity they provided."

The tour company's Back Alley Safaris, Un-Ghost Tours, 1912 Tornado Tours and 1912 Union Station Redux experiences are all rooted in internationally recognized academic research.

"Our success depends on our willingness to seek new insight as tourism practitioners," Harel explained. "We believe in doing business in a way that helps transform our society into a better one. For instance, ethical issues and the impact of our activities when we engage into aboriginal tourism are always at the forefront. "When we partner with an aboriginal operator, we ensure proper protocols are followed. How we handle other people's culture and heritage is always of great concern to us."

This likely explains why Great Excursions was recently admitted as a Partner Institution to the University of Central Lancashire-based Dark Tourism Forum in the United Kingdom.

"Dark tourism is a field that involves travel to sites associated with death and suffering," according to Harel. "There are many issues to consider when one organizes tours of cemeteries or of places where massacres and other tragic events have occurred. We want to address them appropriately. It could be said that our approach to tourism is very much anthropological. This influences us profoundly, but it doesn't prevent our products from being entertaining. In the end, a holiday has to cater to guests' leisure needs as well."

The two experiences named among the Top Five Canadian Learning Holidays are a guest ranch stay at the Historic Reesor Ranch in the Cypress Hills and a women-only canoeing adventure on the Churchill River offered in partnership with the Canoeski Discovery Company in Saskatoon.

Great Excursions Company Ltd. was established in 1998 as Saskatchewan's leading receptive tour operator with provincial, national and international markets, working with suppliers who share an appreciation for authenticity, quality and responsible tourism practices.

To find our more about Great Excursions, visit: www.greatexcursions.com

Source: Saskatchewan Agriculture and Food

For many visitors at Grasslands National Park, this was the next logical step. The reintroduction of the Plains bison in this protected territory—born out of the foresight of a few visionaries, including landowners along the Frenchmen River valley near Val Marie— establishes new standards in relationship-building.

“We are receiving 70 plains bison from Elk Island National Park,” explains Heritage Presentation and Visitor Services Co-ordinator Colin Schmidt. “They are young animals: 30 female calves, 30 male calves and 10 one-year old females. A small holding facility of 40 acres in the West Block will be their home for their first winter.”

What made the reintroduction possible is the way in which the process engaged park neighbours, including a number of stock growers, with their expertise in how to best maintain harmony between the needs of landowners and those of the park.

“While we created our Park Management Plan, which is an obligation of all national historic sites and parks, we realized we required a great deal of input,” says Schmidt. “We set up an advisory committee made up of stakeholders like ranchers, scientists, tourism operators, reeves and RM representatives. As a result, it was identified that bison were the preferred means of restoring grazing in the park.”

One of the prerequisites to reintroducing the bison was the establishment of a suitable perimeter fence.

“Come spring, when the grass is greened up on the native prairie, we’ll open those gates at the holding facility and the bison will be allowed to roam within that larger fenced area over 70 square miles.”

But in order to build the fence, park authorities needed some guidance. They got it from folks who know best what makes sense in the area: ranchers.

“Including their insight in our planning efforts proved invaluable, says Schmidt. "We went from eight-foot posts down to seven-foot posts, and realized substantial savings on materials. In terms of the wire as a result, we ended up switching from conventional hi-tensile page wire to five strands of barbed wire.

The barbed wire is about 18 inches above the ground. It is a little higher than what we are used to. That allows Pronghorns to go back and forth with greater ease. It was also recommended that the top two wires be smooth, so there are no barbs to these wires. In the event a mule or whitetail deer gets caught, that allows them to kick sideways without hooking a tendon into a barb.”

Fence construction started in April and was completed in October. Meanwhile, an elaborate strategy was developed to minimize stress for the animals when they would arrive.

“This is what is referred to in the reintroduction world as a soft release," Schmidt explains. "A hard release would just be bringing the animals, dropping them on the ground and hoping that they make it. A soft release is when you try to take steps to mitigate the harshness of moving from a previous facility, by giving the animals time get used to a new location. Thanks to that small holding area, they will able to adapt to a new horizon, to an area that has very few trees compared to Elk Island, and perhaps to a different climate.”

It so happens that the bison holding facility is located over an old Russian rye field.

“We are putting them there to chew down the exotic vegetation and help the native prairie come back. It is easily accessible because it is close to a road. It is out of sight, away from where visitors typically travel, so it won’t scar the horizon. We have some oats hay stored up for their first winter."

“Having at a very minimum 50 animals—we eventually chose 70—allows us to capture 99 per cent of the genetic material of the source herd. We wanted to capture as much genetic diversity from Elk Island as possible and bring it over here for our herd. We see ourselves growing into the 250- to 300-animal range. We didn’t want to bring all those animals at once. This allows us to start small, adapt, and get used to managing bison in our park. We can grow with them, says Schmidt.”

The reintroduction of bison to the area is a major milestone for those involved: neighbours, members of the community and the Parks Canada organization. The return of the bison will give those who earn their livelihood along the Frenchman River something else to be proud of, believes Schmidt.

"Neighbours have long wanted us to reintroduce the role of grazing, as they noted it was good for the grass early in the development of Grasslands National Park. This acknowledges ranchers' stewardship efforts to this day."

“The great thing about bringing the bison back is the restoration of the grazing element that was missing from the park since the land was acquired. It also helps in the overall conservation of Plains bison in North America, by having yet one more herd on a large expanse of native prairie behaving 'as wild as possible.' This will be one more herd from which animals can be drawn for future conservation initiatives.

“The bison is an icon of the prairies. Having them helps provide visitors to the park that connection with the prairies, and a fuller assemblage of species on the ground.”

For more information, contact:
Colin Schmidt
Heritage Presentation and Visitor Services Co-ordinator
Grasslands National Park
(306) 298-2257



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The captivating allure to Prince Edward Island ebbs and flows like the tide, mingling past and present, old ways and new stylings, all with gentle humour.

BY PERCY ROWE

I once heard a sage professor define civilization as where you never have to lock a door - and that's why he lived in Prince Edward Island.

No locks suggest security, stillness. Stillness there is in abundance on PEI, in the Great Blue Herons immobile in marshes, in rivers that scarcely drop. This is no land of swishing wheat, clanking freight trains, volume.

Besides being still, PEI is unCanadianly small. Forests are copses, hills pimples. It is made to be seen from a height of forty-eight inches. Which makes it a child's paradise.

No wonder a little girl is its icon. This is a place so tiny by Canadian standards that, conceivably, Anne Shirley could have slipped away from Green Gables to walk its length - 274 kilometres on today's Trans-Canada Trail PEI section - and earn a certificate for completing it.

Not everybody walks. I drove across Confederation Bridge from New Brunswick in 12 minutes, dry. A century ago, fishermen, wet and freezing, took 12 hours to row their catches across the same strait.

I learned that at Gateway Village, a welcoming place of parkland, historic exhibits and shops, just across the bridge. Nearby, a giant video encased in a faux-lobster shell, told the story of modern lobstering.

PEI is like that: ebb and flow, past and present, old ways, new stylings. It's the province where neither the premier nor the leader of the opposition dare miss the opening "family" day of the harness-racing season. Where people welcome CFAs - those who are "come from aways." Where a musical, Anne of Green Gables, has been running for 40 summer seasons. Where the soil is oxidized red. Where the lobsters, Malpeque oysters, strawberries and new potatoes are to give your soul for.

It's "down home." But that doesn't mean unchanging. A jam factory there now mixes strawberries and Grand Marnier for one brand. A national TV star, native-born Tamara Hickey, hosts a multi-media historical show. And at the Spot O' Tea restaurant in the seaside village of Stanley Bridge, its owners put on a song-and-jest routine - they happen to be Catherine MacKinnon and Don Harron, that hayseed Charlie Farqhuarson
who is Catherine's sophisticated hubby.

PEI is small, it could have been smaller. The Hillsborough River and Malpeque Bay nearly splice it in three. These, plus numerous other shallow inlets, provided me (and will you) with some of the most painterly (green fields, russet earth, yellow foreshore) and safe kayaking and canoeing in the world.

There are really only two half-busy roads on the island, from the entrance points of Wood Islands ferry terminal in the east, The Bridge in the west, both converging on Charlottetown. For the rest, rent a bike from 20 or so outlets on the island.

But if you must drive, find a church lobster supper, as at St. Ann's, which is conveniently close for camper-families at Prince Edward Island National Park. It has been serving hefty portions of lobster, corn and pie for 30 years. Or eat on a wharf loaded with traps, like that at Cardigan.

And then to sleep. Preferably in a bed and breakfast or, uniquely, at West Point Lighthouse, the first lighthouse in Canada ever to offer accommodation. Women won it that distinction. Led by "Mrs. Lighthouse," the great-granddaughter of its first "keeper" who is also known as Mrs. Carol Livingstone, a group of local villagers formed a co-op. Their place has nine rooms, a restaurant, crafts shop and museum. They have photos of lights from Cape Bonavista to Key West in the dining room, records of the 75 other lighthouses around PEI, and - nudging you into the present - a whirlpool, champagne and a bicycle built for two for honeymooners.

All this - and Charlottetown too! It really doesn't merit an exclamation point. It doesn't act like a capital. It only has 32,000 people. Torontonians would call its highest building a pipsqueak. But what it lacks in population and height, it makes up in history and Annephilia.

There's an Anne of Green Gables Store and Lucy Maud Dining Room. Plus young, overwhelmingly female, pilgrims from Japan, a country where Anne & Co. are in school curricula as examples of family values. And this is all before the Cavendish beach area on the North Shore where the Anne-thises and -thats multiply.

But Charlottetown does usurp the historic monopoly. There is Province House where the possibility of a joined nation was first mulled over. There are the "mullers" - modern students, in top hats and frock coats, playlet-acting on downtown streets. And, in newly opened Founders Hall, the “Time Travel Tunnel” takes visitors back to 1864 and into the pages of Canadian history. There's Sir John A. and the other "fathers," trying to create a nation, and being ignored. And why not? Slaymakers and Nichols Olympic Circus was in town, first time in six years. It was only after Sir John cracked out his ship's hold of wine to go with the oysters, that Charlottetown took notice. And partied. After that, Canada, somehow, was born.

This is history-without-tears. Quite fitting for an island of smiles.


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



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Source: Saskatchewan Agriculture and Food

On the international circuit, the La Reata Ranch is considered one of the crown jewels of the Saskatchewan tourism industry.

Located on the shores of Lake Diefenbaker near Kyle, tucked away in the beautiful Saskatchewan River valley, the operation has been entertaining city folks from across Europe and North America since 1996, thanks to George Gaber and his partners.

“I come from Germany. I came here in 1995 while I was on holidays,” says Gaber. “I went up to the Tisdale area to enjoy a ranch vacation and came south, outside of Swift Current, and spent another week there. I liked both places but the south felt more cowboy country.

“We went out and camped out overnight with the horses down by Swift Current Creek and that really got me. I couldn’t believe it. It was like we know it on Europe, on TV and in the movies. I felt right in it. I decided 'Wow! That is what I want to do!'”

In the rolling hills of the Coteau region, Gaber found his calling. The landscape is a mixture of rolling prairies, open range, canyons, river hills and the sandy beaches of Lake Diefenbaker.

The large ranch property includes nine miles of river frontage. Nature changes its palette with the seasons, from the purple crocus in spring to the pink flowering cactus in summer, to the splendour of golden colours in the fall.
“I packed up and moved to Canada, to Saskatchewan. The old Shaw place it was. Robert Shaw. It came for sale. Then, we built the guest ranch part down by the coulee that drains into Lake Diefenbaker but used to drain in the South Saskatchewan River. It is just a mile east of the main ranch here.

“I learned lots of stuff. I had the experience from back home. I grew up on a ranch and had my own horses—a farm. We had cattle and pigs. I learned from my parents. We built our own herd of cattle. We took some cows over but we expanded over the years. We have about 100 pairs—a cow-calf operation throughout the summer—mostly black Angus.”

Pretty soon, Gaber found himself hitting the travel trade trail. With his native command of German, he was well equipped to attend Equitana, the world’s largest horse show in Germany, which takes place every two years. This led to his first bookings.

“We can accommodate up to 20 people. We run about 23 horses. It started out pretty good, and then September 11th knocked everything back and it was kind of bad then. Now it is finally picking up again.

"The main reason our guests come here is the horseback riding—but it is not toy riding. We take them out on a daily basis to check the cattle. We have to move the cattle. We have to rope them and treat them. The big event of the year is the branding over three days. We round them all up, bring them home, sort them out and count them, and do the authentic branding, rope them and drag them to the fire.”

The guests can get involved and hold the calves and brand them. “We have our own registered brand. It is an L and a bar for La Reata, on the left rib,” Gaber says.
“Most of our guests are from Germany, but also from Austria, Switzerland, the Netherlands, Belgium and France. Now we are getting into the Scandinavian market—Denmark, for instance.”

When asked how people react to him in his adoptive community—given that George is not your typical cowboy—he comes up with the answer you’d expect from a cowboy: “I never had one complaint yet from anyone. The community here accepts me. They really do. There was a huge welcome. All the neighbours are very good to us. They help me out. They like that kind of business. They socialize with us. They are kind-hearted folks.

“I like the lifestyle, being out here, the wide open space, freedom, having people coming out. You meet people from around the world. You make friends. They invite you. They love you. Most of them arrive in late evening so it is dark. It the morning, they see where they are. For them it is just incredible. They feel like crying, especially when they leave—they don’t want to go. They want to move to Canada. They just love it. It makes an incredible impression on them.”
George Gaber has no misgivings about his choices.

For more information, contact:
George Gaber
La Reata Ranch
306-375-2225


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Environment Canada’s Ecological Monitoring and Assessment Network (EMAN) is a national network of scientists, local institutions, government agencies, industry, and community volunteers dedicated to long-term, multi-disciplinary ecological monitoring across Canada. Nature Canada has partnered with the EMAN Coordinating Office to implement NatureWatch, a series of programs to monitor, track, and respond to issues of concern. NatureWatch (www.naturewatch.ca), which includes IceWatch, FrogWatch, PlantWatch and WormWatch, is helping Canadians to participate in science and understand the changes in the environment. These programs encourage participants to learn about the environment while gathering the information needed to protect it. The general public, educational institutions, policy-makers, and the scientific community mutually benefit from the results.

Through NatureWatch Canadians of all ages can discover how - and more importantly, why – natural ecosystems are changing. Volunteer observers help scientists to understand what is happening in the environment by observing and tracking some of the natural events around them. Using selected indicator species, a citizen network of ice, frog, plant, and earthworm Watchers spread throughout Canada can help fill critical gaps in scientific knowledge. Volunteers expand our capacity to monitor changes over a greater geographical area, allow us to track trends more efficiently, and respond more rapidly to ecosystem changes. At the same time, communities gain sound information on local ecosystem changes which can be readily compared with historic trends.

NatureWatch provides us with standardized data, allows us to perform assessments, gain a clearer understanding of local change effects, and transmit this information back to volunteers. The knowledge provided by NatureWatchers will be used to improve ecosystem management as well as to help develop initiatives aimed at tackling environmental issues at all scales.


IceWatch: www.icewatch.ca
Ice cover on lakes and rivers is mainly created and destroyed by seasonal temperature fluctuations. Change in the annual freeze-thaw cycle is an event that can easily be observed and recorded by Canadians. Long-term records of these events coupled with meteorological data are an excellent tool to assess climate change. IceWatch educates volunteers to record and submit their observations so we can create a national database and assess freeze and thaw events across Canada.

FrogWatch: www.frogwatch.ca
FrogWatch participants track the distribution of frogs and toads across Canada by learning how to identify amphibians by their calls and appearance, and then report what they see and hear in the lakes, ponds, and wetlands around them. FrogWatch was established to respond to the recognition that amphibian populations are declining and are being affected by a variety of interacting factors. In Canada, it appears that habitat loss, toxic chemicals, and parasites are their greatest threats. Having an extensive network of volunteer observers allows us to determine where frogs are found so we can develop conservation or rehabilitation plans.

PlantWatch: www.plantwatch.ca
The first bloom dates of plants are an excellent indicator of climate change and its effects. Through PlantWatch, participants can help track changes in the timing of flowering dates for selected plant species across Canada. The plants include wildflowers, lilacs and dandelions, among others. The information collected can be compared to climate data to determine whether plants change their behaviour according to climatic changes and to validate climate models.

WormWatch: www.wormwatch.ca
Through WormWatch, scientists are drawing on the assistance of citizens to create a Canadian database of earthworm species and habitat distribution. With their benefits to soil structure and fertility, earthworms help engineer the earth’s ecosystems from the ground up. Most native earthworms were lost during the last glaciation, and new species have since been introduced, but we still need more information to tell us how many species there are and where they live. Information about earthworms is important since they are a vital component of our forest ecosystems.

Becoming a NatureWatch Observer
Anyone can become a NatureWatcher by logging on to www.naturewatch.ca and following the instructions. Like to travel? You can NatureWatch at home and on the road. For more information and to participate using print media contact:

Ecological Monitoring and Assessment Network Coordinating Office
867 Lakeshore Road
Burlington, ON L7R 4A6
(905) 336-4411
eman@ec.gc.ca

It could be argued that the way we look at the prairie landscape in today’s world of motorized transportation has erased from our collective memory some of the perceptions early pioneers developed of the land they came to inhabit.

To recapture some of this lost heritage, Regina heritage tourism consultant Claude-Jean Harel asked his fellow members of the Regina Archaeological Society (RAS) to join him on a survey of the old Moose Jaw to Red Deer River Trail, near Besant Campground along Highway # 1, late this summer.

“I had spent a fair bit of time carrying out an inventory of archaeological resources in this part of the Missouri Coteau region, with the intent to develop authentic rural and agritourism products, but this trail held mysteries I felt my colleagues could help me solve,” Harel says.

The trail originally led to Chesterfield House, which was built in 1801 by the Hudson’s Bay Company’s Peter Fidler and located at the confluence of the Red Deer and the South Saskatchewan. Used by fur traders and Metis hunters, the trail was the main transportation route west of Moose Jaw until the arrival of the railway in 1882. It likely was the throughway used by the first ranchers in the Missouri Coteau as early as 1875, and played a role in the establishment of the area’s first farms later on.

Besant Campground has long been an oasis where children bathe and parents rest in the summer. Sandy Creek, a spring-fed stream, provides ever-precious water in this landscape dominated by sand and brush, and which is highly susceptible to erosion. A commemorative plaque attests to the historic significance of the trail where it crosses the campground.

Bill Long is an avocational archaeologist, who has been a member of the RAS since 1965.

“Originally, the trail would have been created by Metis coming west and hunting buffalo. After that, it would have been used by the traders, and then to haul freight across the land, in that order.”

Kit Krozser is a professional archaeologist, who has been a member of the RAS for 15 years.

“The cart ruts are apparently farther apart than modern car tires. When you are looking for a trail, you might want to look for that. Tracking the course of the trail provides a better idea of some of the terrain features pioneers would have had to overcome, like having to cross a creek. They would have been worried about getting the wheels stuck. Driving cross-country is different than having a nice paved road to drive on, with no garage to fix wagons if they broke down,” says Krozsier.

“The trails tell us about how rugged the people must have been, the hardships they had to face to get here in the first place, and how they got supplies from one place to another. It is good to be reminded of that every now and then.”

Dr. Chris Foley teaches archaeology the University of Saskatchewan. “Trails emphasize the need that all people have for communication and exchange among groups,” Foley says. “These trails are networks not only for exchange of commodities: they are also channels for the exchange of ideas and experiences. I think these trail networks are fundamental aspects of land use and community building. They are a part of what we are.

“This is not an easy land to move over, without the benefit of the Churchill River up north or even the North and South Saskatchewan Rivers, or the Souris,” Foley says. “When you move into this kind of terrain and have overland trails, you are dealing with a very different type of communication. Much more effort is involved.”

John Palliser also came to this conclusion when he ventured this way during his 1857-58 expedition. Tree ring analysis of past climates suggests Palliser came during the driest period of the last 300 years.

“The location of the trail in relation to the creek suggests a certain sophistication with respect to the knowledge of the land,” Foley notes. “We are inclined to tie scientific knowledge to formal education, controlled experiences and experimentation. Judging by just the part of the trail we walked over, these ancient travelers show an awareness of where you establish trails: not too far up slope to expose yourself, not too far down slope to risk being flooded by abundant rain where the creek or a river’s water rises, but close enough to it so you had water for your own use; water for your animals; water that would attract game that you could hunt and that would provide you with provisions for the duration of your travel.”

They were very knowledgeable about the land, knowledge accumulated and passed over hundreds and thousands of years from first peoples to settlers, and now to us.

As the fieldwalking activities unfolded in the heat over this rugged terrain, RAS surveyors and the few brave souls from the Saskatchewan Archaeological Society who had joined them for the occasion were reminded of what life must have been like for early settlers in the region.

RAS President Jack Trusty speaks for them. “We mapped the trail out for about a mile, a bit more. I think we have come to the place where they have probably crossed the creek, because we have come to the bullrushes. It is fascinating to explore and venture to establish where the wagons went. We just got a little taste of what it must have been like long ago. It was well worth it.”



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With a mind-boggling location, stunningly beautiful mountain and spine-tingling skiing and boarding, Le Massif de Petite-Rivière-Saint-François in Quebec's Charlevoix region provides a mass of pleasures.

BY HUGO PARADIS

I remember Le Massif in the 1980s, when the then-new ski area was a wild, virgin mountain, etched with a handful of primitively carved trails where Quebec powder hounds could get their fill of white gold.

There were no chairlifts, so skiers would take the so-called shuttle - an old school bus, truth be told - to get to the mountaintop. It took a while for the bus to reach the summit, and at best you could squeeze in maybe five runs a day.

Adding to the charm, there was always a guide along to make sure skiers didn't stray too far from the trails, or what passed for trails, since there were no grooming machines in those days. And Le Massif got so much snow that it was a powder paradise from early in the season onwards.

Back then, snowboarding was "plancha non grata" at all Quebec ski resorts - save Le Massive. For those of us taking up the brand-new sport, Le Massive was heaven on earth. Not only could you slice through thick powder on blissful 45-minute runs, but the mountain accepted us for what we were, which is to say a bunch of wackos who thought of ourselves as surfers but preferred a sea of snow to ocean swells.

Mountain by the Sea
Nowadays skiers and boarders of every stripe swarm to Le Massif, less than an hour from Quebec City. They may favour different sports, but whether skiing, boarding or falling about the mountain as they learn Telemarking, they all wear the same rapturous expression. This is a truly magical place that seems to hover between sky and sea, where you feel as if you're skimming along on fluffy clouds.

No other ski hill in eastern North America is so spectacularly situated. This "mountain by the sea," as they call it hereabouts, rises gloriously over the St. Lawrence River, a majestic beacon that stands out even among the scenic beauty of the Charlevoix region. The site is so stunning that you sometimes wonder whether the skiing is somehow superfluous, because the panoramic view alone provides such pleasure.

Le Massif also boasts the highest vertical rise (770 metres) east of the Rockies. If Quebec City had won its bid for the 2002 Olympics, this is where the downhill ski events would have been held. As it is, the National Alpine Training Centre at Le Massif is the only one in the province.

The mountain offers several family runs, including a long, gentle trail that unfolds over 3.8 kilometres. But nearly half the 42 runs are black diamond (very difficult) or double diamond (extreme), like the revered "42," a sinuous gem punctuated with bumps, narrow chutes and steep drops; Le Sous-Bois, a compelling gladed trail; and La Charlevoix, the sole certified Women's World Cup course in eastern Canada.

Because of its competition-calibre status, La Charlevoix is the only really wide run, occasionally reaching 100 metres across. None of the other trails get any wider than 30 metres, the better to combat erosion and wind. Located in the heart of a World Biosphere Reserve, Le Massif has to be particularly respectful of Mother Nature. For example, snowmaking takes place only where it won't affect vegetation, and no lodging facilities have been built onsite.

But changes are beginning to occur at Le Massif. The resort was purchased in 2002 by Cirque du Soleil co-founder and former president Daniel Gauthier, who is investing considerable amounts in beefing up mountain infrastructure. In 2004, $5 million went into adding six new runs, a new quad lift and 90 new snow cannons. Beyond that, nobody knows just what future development the resort will see, as no master plan has yet been drawn up.

It's clear, however, that Gauthier would like to transform Le Massif into a leading year-round recreational and tourist destination. Still, he plans to base the expansion on skiing and winter sports, which is only logical. Gazing upon this mountain from its summit or from the river, it's clear winter sports are exactly what it was made for.


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



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While not especially known for great dining, Prince Edward Island holds some tasty surprises for epicureans who make a bit of an effort to explore local restaurants.

BY SIMON GARNEAU

When it comes to gastronomy, a fancy word for good eating, some of my friends think Prince Edward Island might as well be the other end of the world.

Take Thomas, a pal in Montreal, who kept warning me as I prepared to move to P.E.I. that I'd have a hard time finding good restaurants. But I'm delighted to be able to inform him and all the other doubting Thomases of this world that my palate is doing just fine, thanks.

Local grocery stores are stocked with everything from tasty vittles to gourmet treats, and the excellent restaurants run the gamut from beaneries to five-star establishments. While there are three or four truly first-class places, the one that really lingers in my mind is Dalvay By The Sea, by far the best restaurant in the province.

The menu and table d'hôte change regularly, so I won't recommend specific dishes. But oh, how I remember an exquisite meal there for which I would have happily crawled several miles, featuring cold blackberry soup, wild mushrooms in puff pastry and tender beef with star anise. Dalvay by the Sea is one of those rare dining establishments where bad surprises simply aren't on the menu. Located in the heart of Prince Edward Island National Park on beautiful Dalvay Beach, this delightful hotel-restaurant affords both a scenic setting and a memorable meal.

Considering the upscale premises, Dalvay By The Sea's prices are actually pretty reasonable. But they may not suit everyone's budget (certainly not mine, anyway!), so following are suggestions for four other topnotch restaurants where you can eat well without having to dig too deep into your pockets.

Piece of Cake
Tucked away on the second level of Charlottetown's Confederation Court Mall, Piece A Cake Restaurant isn't easy to find. But once you do, chances are you'll return again and again.

Despite its quaint moniker, Piece A Cake doesn't specialize in desserts, although its caramel pie with mixed nuts is utterly scrumptious. Rather, it serves up fine food in an atmosphere of casual elegance. Fans of "the other white meat," for instance, are bound to enjoy its unusual and mouthwatering entrée of pecan crusted pork loin.

Closer to the waterfront, The Merchantman Pub cheerfully beckons hungry diners. The word "pub" doesn't accurately describe this establishment, as it doesn't serve traditional pub grub like bangers and mash, shepherd's pie and pickled eggs. Rather, the menu is cosmopolitan and eclectic, with choices ranging from Thai to Italian to Cajun. I also recommend the fish-and-chips tempura, which in my humble opinion is one of the two best fish-and-chips meals on the Island. The other? Patience ― I'll get to that in a moment.

Half an hour east of Charlottetown, picturesque Victoria-by-the-Sea teems with visitors in summer and is something of a tourist trap in that almost everything is overpriced.

The Landmark Café on Main Street near the Victoria Playhouse is an exception. It's not super-cheap, but on the other hand owner Eugène Sauvé sees to it that diners always get their money's worth. From the quiche to the hearty salads and the fresh fish, everything is appealing, and so is the friendly staff.

Bonus on the Clyde
Just about anybody who comes to P.E.I. ends up visiting Cavendish, drawn by its picturesque scenery, miles of coastal beaches and Anne of Green Gables-related sites. But when it comes to eating, nearby New Glasgow is a better bet.

Café on the Clyde in New Glasgow is a welcome change in a province where fried food is all too common. Fish cooked on the restaurant's so-called "green egg," a rounded green barbecue, is especially delicious. And don't miss the café's tearoom, where the view of the Clyde River is lovely and the braised salmon filet on cedar is a must for seafood fanciers.

If you absolutely must have fried food, then head back to Charlottetown, where you can indulge your craving with gusto at the Seatreat Restaurant. Sure, lots of Island eateries offer home-style fare, but the Seatreat does it especially well. Its unprepossessing exterior hides an establishment that not only excels at hot chicken sandwiches, hamburgers and the like, but is famous for its fish and seafood dishes.

While "fish and chips" usually means overcooked fish in greasy batter, that's definitely not the case at the Seatreat, where the fish is tender and the batter thin, golden and crisp. Even the coleslaw is great, leaving my vote for best fish and chips on the Island split between the Seatreat and The Merchantman Pub.

Of course, any discussion of P.E.I. cuisine invariably includes lobster. But I would strongly advise lobster lovers to steer clear of the Island's renowned lobster suppers, which charge an exorbitant sum for an all-you-can-eat fish soup followed by a tiny, overcooked crustacean.

For succulent fresh-caught lobster, head to Richard's Seafood Eatery on the wharf at Covehead Harbour on the Island's north shore, where fine, sweet-fleshed lobsters are served hot or cold. And if you fancy the delectable roe, just order up a female lobster.

I hope the sceptics out there now realize that when it comes to good food, far from being at the other end of the world, Prince Edward Island is world class.


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



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Who says New Brunswick shuts down in winter? Snowmobilers will tell you that the moment a blanket of snow settles over this charming province, it becomes one giant outdoor playground.

BY YVES OUELLET

New Brunswick's snowiest area is in the north of the province, around the Acadian Peninsula and the area defined by Campbellton, Edmundston, Bathurst and Miramichi. Naturally, there are those who complain about so much snow and such a long winter. Then there are those who exult in every flake that falls from the sky.

They would be snowmobilers. They love flying around this forested coastal region, where the abundant snow allows comfortable riding and terrific off-trail touring through magnificent backcountry scenery.

New Brunswick's snowy northern expanses offer limitless opportunities, whether you're looking for an afternoon ride, a weekend getaway or a full-blown snowmobile vacation. But you should know where to begin, and I'd suggest Bathurst as a base. After all, it's known as "the snowmobile capital of Atlantic Canada."

Beautiful Trails
In the clear, cold air, the light is blindingly bright and the snow glistens in the sun. Riding along a wide forest trail, my senses are alive with the pleasure of the sport, the charm of winter and the beauty of the scenery.

I'm following a series of trails that leads from the doorstep of my Bathurst hotel towards Miramichi, with hours of satisfying cruising along the way. I discover some of the trails are virtual snow highways, like the renowned Piston Alley, straight and true, but never to the point of boredom. Other trails unfold along former railway beds, follow roads through the forest or curl amid the trees.

The scenery is equally diverse, keeping the trip constantly interesting. Much of the time I'm travelling alongside the Nepisiguit River, where the waterfalls aren't yet frozen. Occasionally the riverbank yields up an inviting stopover, like the Governor's Pool Wilderness Lodge, a picturesque lodge run by the Evans family.

Riding in this part of the province, it's easy to strike up conversations with the locals because they're all snowmobile fanatics. Every encounter begins with: "So how are the trails?" "Fabulous," you always reply, having just come off a gorgeous trail groomed to perfection by a Lawn Track. (Designed and manufactured in New Brunswick, it's a source of local pride.) In front of one of the heated shelters where riders stop to stretch their legs, I spot a crimson-coloured Lawn Track glinting in the sun. It's surrounded by a group of admiring snowmobilers. Snowmobilers can't help but appreciate fine machinery.

The return trip to Bathurst is just as enjoyable as the ride out. I make once last stop at the Chaleur Snowmobile Club before heading back to the Atlantic Host Hotel, which is already filling with snowmobilers arriving for the weekend.

Acadian Odyssey
I head for the Acadian Peninsula, the heart of French-speaking New Brunswick. Jean-Yves Thériault, president of Caraquet's snowmobile club, and Hédard Vienneau, president of Tracadie-Sheila's snowmobile club respectively, are my guides on this segment of the trip. Both exude Acadian hospitality, and so we all set out for Caraquet in high spirits.

The forest thins as we approach the coast, and then suddenly magnificent Chaleur Bay comes into view. The dramatic vista almost literally takes my breath away. "I'm fortunate to live here," Thériault says, pausing in front of his house, "This amazing view changes constantly from season to season." We carry on to the tip of the peninsula and cross an ice bridge to Lamèque and Miscou islands. The windswept island trails make for rather tricky riding, but the striking scenery is unmatched.

Passing through Shippagan on the return trip, we stop to look at the panorama of idle fishing boats, some caught in the frozen harbour, others hauled onto the shoreline, their bold colours glowing in the sunlight. It's an extraordinary and somehow poignant scene. In this silent stillness of winter, it's hard to imagine the frenzied activity of lobster-fishing season.

Happily, fish and seafood are always available hereabouts, even in February. At Le Pirate Maboule, a charming pub near the Shippagan waterfront that serves up local specialties, we tuck into bourrasque aux pétoncles, a dish of sautéed vegetables and deliciously tender scallops.

Travelling from bay to bay, we resume the journey, stopping at the trailside Relais des Minique just outside our final destination of Tracadie-Sheila. Snowmobilers gather in large numbers at the Relais' main building to feast on simply prepared mussels boiled in seawater. If you're looking to overnight, the nearby Chalets Les Deux Rivières is very comfortable. These and other visitor amenities, combined with a central location on the Acadian Peninsula, make Tracadie-Sheila an ideal base for snowmobiling excursions.

My Acadian adventure winds down the next day as I head back to Bathurst, stopping at La Bonne Route restaurant in Lavillette on the way. Here, inevitably, I meet another group of snowmobilers - local fishermen who segue easily between the open seas of summer and the frosty chill of winter. Mounds of snow notwithstanding, their hearts are warm, their attitude friendly and their sense of humour intact.

But then, as any visitor soon learns, that's pretty much the way Acadians are, whatever the time of year.


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



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by Claude-Jean Harel
(source: Saskatchewan Agriculture and Food)

Once in a while, an agri-business idea so gutsy and so original comes along that it defies our own perceptions of what is possible here in Saskatchewan.

Enter Marty and Marie Bohnet’s Cypress Hills Vineyard and Winery project, just outside of Maple Creek.

“We used to ranch with my husband’s brother and his father,” explains Marie. “The operation wasn’t generating enough revenue to support three families. We wanted to keep living here because we are really attached to our community.

“A few years ago, we went on a holiday in the Okanagan Valley where we visited a number of wineries. We asked ourselves why we couldn’t do this in Saskatchewan. We have grown our own grapes for years. We have three 10 year-old vines that produce 38 pounds of grapes.”

The Bohnet family did some research and came across new grape hybrids from Wisconsin and Minnesota that were able to survive temperatures of 26 to 40 degrees below zero.

“We have never had any winter kill on our old vines,” proudly claims Marie. “Currently, we have 18 on a test trial to rate then for winter hardiness and production. The new varieties are mostly crosses between vinefere from Europe and the hearty American vitus labrusca variety. Together, these yield a wine similar to that made with European grapes, but you have the added advantage of plants that will survive prairie winters and have increased disease resistance.”

They planted 800 vines on their property last year and 1,000 vines this year, for a total of 3.5 acres of land. They plan on having 10 acres in the ground within four years.

“We get our vine stock from Ontario and Quebec, and every vine is watered through a drip line that allows us to use our water resources wisely. When we plant the vines, we take advantage of slope opportunities and, of course, shelter from the wind, which is always a concern. You know how windy it can get in the Cypress Hills.”

In planting their vines, Marie and Marty have established a low cordon system. This means that the actual trunk of the vine is six inches long. The first wire is just above that. The vines grow during the spring and summer. Grapes mature in the fall. When the plant is dormant in February or March, the vine is trimmed back to that short trunk.

“This is key to allowing the vine to survive,” says Marie. “Often, the trunk is buried under snow, providing extra protection against the extreme cold. It is funny, because when we used to be in the cattle business, we loved chinooks. Now we think a little differently thank most folk around the hills, because we don’t much like chinooks anymore. They can expose the vine to frost and wind, which could result in decreased production.”

While weighing these considerations, Marie is at the same time trying to establish the vineyard and winery in the most ecologically-friendly manner possible.

“Our aging facilities will be built underground, so as to minimize heating and energy needs. The vineyard is located over previously cultivated areas. We use a posthole auger to plant the vines in tame grass that is mowed. If you have sod cover, you get 10 to 15 degrees more frost protection. We stop mowing in August in order to allow the grass to hold the snow through winter.”

The winery is currently looking at licensing to produce wine, which is a complex process. As well, the Cypress Hills Vineyard and Winery is looking at organic production.

They plan on opening to the public in June of 2007, with 20,000 bottles ready for retail. They hope to be the first commercial grape vineyard and winery in Saskatchewan—cottage style. Guests will be able buy wine on the premises, tour the vineyards and sample the wines. They will be able to enjoy a rustic picnic or a bistro style lunch on the premises.

The greenhouse will help propagate and sell new grape varieties that are hardy on the Prairies. Their operation will also include one acre of raspberry, rhubarb and chokecherry production.

Because they are located right on Highway 271, 20 kilometres southwest of Maple Creek, they hope to draw on the thousands of visitors who visit Fort Walsh National Historic Site and the estimated 250,000 who visit the Cypress Hills each year.


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A feature article from Saskatchewan Environment
Writer: Art Jones

There’s a place in northern Saskatchewan that I have flown over but have never had the pleasure of visiting. It’s the Athabasca Sand Dunes on the south shore of Lake Athabasca. The Athabasca Sand Dunes Provincial Wilderness Park is the province’s most remote wilderness park, accessible only by air or by boat.

The active sand dune area, which covers about a quarter of the provincial park, stretches for about 100 kilometres. The dunes are the most northerly sand dune area in the world and are Canada’s largest active sand dunes. Some of the dunes are up to 30 metres high and as much as a kilometre long. Other small, rounded dunes, called willow dunes, stretch for kilometres.

The sand in some of the areas between many of the larger dunes has been blown away, exposing rocks and pebbles that have been polished and carved by the drifting sand. Travel on these extensive fragile gravel pavement areas should be avoided.

“The local Dene Nations have a legend that says the dunes were created by a giant beaver while scientists say they actually began their life as part of a delta in a giant prehistoric lake and are the result of glacial activity that ground the local Athabasca sandstone into sand,” says Kevin Weatherbee, Manager, Athabasca Sand Dunes Provincial Wilderness Park. “People from the Fond du Lac First Nation have a reserve in the dunes adjacent to the park. A wide variety of traditional uses such as hunting, trapping, fishing and gathering plants for medicinal or ceremonial purposes occur in and out of the park.”

Three-quarters of the Athabasca Sand Dunes Provincial Wilderness Park is Canadian Shield made up of jackpine/lichen forests and muskeg along with many small lakes and potholes. The dune area is home to more than 300 plant species; 42 are rare and 10 others are found nowhere else in the world.

“The provincial park designation means those plants and this unique area is protected for now and into the future,” says Environment’s Weatherbee. “Although rain and snow quickly disappear into the sand out of the reach of the roots of most plants, the dune area is not a desert. The water table in the areas between the dunes is often high so they become productive nurseries where grass, trees and shrubs germinate from wind-blown seed. These areas, called slacks, provide homes for a host of birds, insects and animals.”

There are no communities, services, permanent residents, facilities or roads in or the near the park. Visitors must be fully equipped for self-contained wilderness travel and should be aware of the park management zoning and associated guidelines. They must also be prepared to protect the fragile environment and remember they are not allowed to pick any plants or take any artifacts. People planning to visit the park are encouraged to obtain a copy of the Athabasca Sand Dunes Provincial Wilderness Park brochure which is available from Saskatchewan Environment, Box 5000, La Ronge, SK S0J 1L0, prior to visiting the park.

More details about the Athabasca Sand Dunes Provincial Wilderness Park are available from Saskatchewan Environment.


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by Claude-Jean Harel
(source: Saskatchewan Agriculture and Food)

When it comes to sustainable tourism practices, Dave Weiman has set some noble ideals for himself. His company, Sawyer Lake Adventures, is based in the Preeceville area, where he raises Scottish Highland cattle, chickens and Siberian huskies and farms the old fashioned way, using heavy horses.

“My horses are of the Suffolk Punch breed, originally from the East Anglian county in Britain,” Weiman says. “The breed traces its roots back to the early 16th century and before. They are the smallest of the heavy horses, standing at about 16 hands. They have a very nice disposition, require comparatively lower rations than other horses in their weight range, and they are particularly suited to fieldwork.”
Guests who visit Dave Weiman’s camp and farm can learn how to drive horse and how to communicate with them using reins and other resources. They are exposed to a rich culture that hasn’t been interpreted to the public as much as it could.

“This is a fascinating part of the world, traveled through centuries by indigenous societies, and later on, by European settlers who came with high hopes to live off the land. What we especially love to share with guests is the interdependent relationship humans have with domesticated animals across our land,” Weiman says.

“The roomy country home and lodge were both built with white spruce logs that were harvested on our land and skidded using our horses. We milled them with a wood-saving bandsaw on our own land. The stamina and pulling power of the Suffolk are unquestionable. I use my horses constantly. They are also gentle and powerful mounts that our guests ride during both summer and winter. Our animals must be used for them to stay healthy.”

Weiman feels the same way about the dogs he raises.

“You know, 99 per cent of sled dogs are used for racing activities. Our Siberian huskies are raised as recreation animals. We use them to pull carts in the summer. In November, I move the dogs to the lodge for the winter months. From November to March, we are booked solid with guests on the weekends. I run the dogs and I log with the horses—and visitors get to participate in the activities.”
Weiman’s approach to tourism is rooted in sharing the authenticity of life at the camp and at the farm.

“We butcher the chickens in the fall, and we sell our Highland cattle beef at the farmgate. The trick is packaging the experience of spending time here as a product that the tourism industry is willing to market.”
Weiman will be the first to admit there is always something to learn when it comes to knowing your consumers.

“Saskatchewan is welcoming more and more new residents who come from other places in the world. When their family members come for visits, they are always seeking unique experiences for them to enjoy. I guess we are unique enough that people are tempted to come live with us for a while,” Weiman says.

“Family reunions are a big market for us. Can you imagine how conducive a place like ours can be to socializing, when relatives who haven’t seen each other for 15 years get together in the country? Sure beats meeting in a motel.”

Weiman’s practices have inspired some of his colleagues in the ecotourism/sustainable tourism field, where perseverance and the quest for excellence are prerequisites to success.



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by Claude-Jean Harel

Had Seager Wheeler (1868-1961) been living today, he’d probably marvel at what his Maple Grove Farm has become: a National Historic Site — a place that celebrates the achievements of the most famous farmer in the history of the Canadian Prairies; a place to learn, play and eat. It is also one of Saskatchewan’s most compelling agritourism destinations, just on the edge of Rosthern, Saskatchewan.

For Ag Manager Brian Weightman, farming has always been a dream occupation.

“I have a crop production background. I like the interaction with guests, the ability to share something that maybe they didn’t understand about growing crops — something as simple as the characteristics of a variety of fruit, the difference between a grafted tree and a cultured tree. There is an enrichment aspect for me too because sometimes, you’ll get a person from Europe with a different experience of agriculture who contributes to your knowledge. Everyday is a new challenge and every day I learn a new thing.”

Visitors to the farm discover all about field experimentation with cereals and horticulture in a prairie environment, shelterbelts, soil enhancement practices and soil conservation strategies. They find out how Seager Wheeler developed new selection processes and wheat varieties, earning him international recognition, with virtually no knowledge and no tools — just a strong aspiration of success. Guests are actually invited to take part in some of the work performed on-site.

“We have school groups that literally plant seeds and seedlings in our fields. They learn about how soils evolved from the glacial era until today. In some case they come back for the harvest and take the vegetables to school. With our fruit orchards, they can trim the trees and pick the fruit. Adults pick much of our fruit and we share it with them. Time spent earns fruit.”

Weightman looks after Saskatoon berry, strawberry, raspberry, sour cherry, apple, honeysuckle and seabuckthorn production, among other responsibilities.

“We make pies and homemade ice cream, so some of that fruit is applied as flavouring. We make muffins, jams, jellies — sometimes sundae toppings and locally made fruit dishes, including fruit-filled perogies. We will produce pretty much any application that would come from a few local cultural groups such as Ukrainians, Mennonites and French Canadians.”

The Farm welcomes visitors from around the world and there are always experiences available that match their expectations, according to Weightman. “They come away with a feeling of what a wonderful lifestyle it is, and the harmony with nature and the existence itself. We see nature sometimes in a bad sense when there is a flood or a bad storm, but when you work in the dirt and you see the life that is in the dirt as it grows the plant, you develop a sense of warming from the sun and the birds. So I think they come away with a sense of how rich earth is and how good it is.”

If Brian Weightman is obviously passionate about his work, the same can be said of an increasing number of tourism product consumers who include more hands-on, behind the scenes type of experiences as part of their holiday. Studies have shown that this kind of experiential travel is on the rise. No longer do travellers look to simply be shown attractions. They long for encounters with an increasing level of participation that will generate lasting memories.

Angela Pearen Burinside is the coordinator of the Country Roads - Prairie Agri Tourism Product Club, a group of agritourism operators on the leading edge of the next generation of agricultural tourism products.

“One of the emerging type of experiences that sells at the moment focuses on showcasing local gastronomic traditions. For instance, we have seen a rural bed and breakfast bring in a chef, where the actual product would involve inviting guests to help through the food preparation process, cook the dish and eat it too. The agritourism product in this case becomes the culinary experience that is staged in a rural setting and sold as a distinctive package.”

The variety of agritourism experiences is only limited by imagination. Guest ranches have being enjoying certain popularity in recent years for a number of reasons.

There is location — they are generally in a remote setting, which impacts on their exotic quality as a destination. Ranches also appeal as places where guests can engage in horseback riding activities with people who live off the land; have an intimate knowledge of horses and cattle; and, a unique appreciation for the Great Plains.

Ted Hornung is Manager of International Marketing at Tourism Saskatchewan.

“What we are seeing is a genuine interest among international guests in experiencing what it is like to be a rancher, at a deeper level. They want to participate in cattle drives, check the cows and calves in the pastures. They wish to integrate a personal enrichment quality to their holiday, which at some level has the potential to transform their lives. In order to achieve that, they almost have to immerse themselves into somebody else’s world. And the ranching lifestyle is perceived as being wholesome.”

Some people choose to go on a journey to Tibet to seek inner growth and wisdom. Spending some time with a cowboy on the range can go a long way to provide some of that too. The journey becomes the experience.

At the magnificent Historic Reesor Ranch in the Cypress Hills, each guest room has its own theme. The William D. and Alice Room celebrates the lives of the first Reesor family in the Hills with artifacts and photographs lovingly displayed on the walls.

The Keith and Helen Room features the second generation; the Ranch Hand’s Room interprets the life of those less celebrated who contributed no less to the success of the ranch. Everything about the 1916 ranch house, yard and buildings oozes of the hardships and joys of life in a part of the world that one must inhabit to truly understand.

Authenticity radiates all around the ranch, thanks to its heritage. Yet authenticity can be articulated in innumerable ways.

Just east of Saskatoon, St. Denis’ Champêtre County espouses a theme that resonates with the Denis family and countless Saskatchewan residents: nostalgia for the Far West. Hence, the frontier town of Tumbleweed was erected out at the Denis farm. It comes with a Sheriff’s Office, where guests register; the Howling Coyote Saloon is used as the main facility for meals and special events; there is a General Store, a Town Hall, a Boarding House. Thérèse and Arthur Denis have created quite the place out here on the prairie.

“We have moved beyond the farm,” says Thérèse, “we have really become a destination. We had to market it right because we are located away from highways, so we chose to focus on group functions. We host family reunions, weddings, corporate events and meetings — we are constantly honing the experiences and services we offer to answer our customer’s needs. For instance, we have a complete photographic studio on-site, so guests can take home with them a little piece of our place here.”

The authenticity in this case emerges from the fact that Thérèse and her family still live right here in the yard, which is tended with the kind of attention to detail one finds normally in the most meticulously looked-after gardens. “We are welcoming these guests at our place a bit like you welcome a friend in your home. In a way, we become part of their celebration; they become part of our family.”

It should also be noted that Arthur Denis also happens to be Tumbleweed’s Sheriff. Guests are advised to be on their best behaviour for the duration of their stay.

Of course, when the natural beauty of the surroundings is as overwhelming as one encounters at Aylesbury’s Trails End Guest Ranch, very little theming is required. From Highway 11, the big sign catches the eye. A quick drive east over a couple of kilometres and you enter the picturesque Arm River Valley.

Meet Lyle Benz and his wife Chris. She’s originally from the eastern United States; he was born and raised around here. They share a passion for horses and cattle — it achieved new height about four years ago, when Lyle came to realize that his 1,000 acre ranch was attracting all kinds of visitors.

“We had a lot of city people who used to come down here. It is such a beautiful place in the summertime. They asked us if they could come down for the weekend, and being that I was here everyday, I didn’t recognize the significance of this until after a few occasions. I had to ask people what they saw here that I didn’t? The serenity of the valley is basically the first thing they came up with; the peacefulness; just the aura of the valley itself, the ruggedness of it.”

In 2001, they opened the guest ranch with three comfortable cabins made out of cleverly refurbished wooden grain bins. The humble original farmhouse is also available for rent. They have a hot tub; they built a kitchen/office building down by the creek as well as a stable and a sheltered riding arena. What experiences do they offer?

“The whole cowboy experience,” according to Lyle, “to go out and ride with us and work with us on every day activities; checking fences, checking cattle, helping us treat a sick one. People are invited to participate in our round ups and general herd management procedures. We also offer hourly trail rides. All the land down here in the valley is native grass.”

The ruins of a turn-of-the-century sod house are still visible on the hillside across Arm River. The stove sits in the middle of it. Apparently, the homesteader’s wife loved this place so much she had herself buried on a point on the hillside, overlooking the valley.

Interpreting the local landscape to visitors is what Chris and Lyle love most, next to sharing their love of horses. Chris Benz:

“We are set up for people who bring their own horses as well. We have a complete horse obstacle course. We have bridges; we have a teeter-totter that you ride your horse across. We teach guests how to swim with their horse. We have corrals; outdoor rings; we have a race track; we have full service RV sites if they want to come in and bring their campers with them.”

Lyle Benz has noticed a change in the profile of visitors in recent years.

“One of the drawback people in Saskatchewan have about vacationing with their horses is everybody grew up on a farm and in a lot of cases, the last thing they want to do is go on a farm and see a horse. The first generations away from the farm are the ones coming back now. They are really interested in Grandpa and Grandma’s roots. We have had a lot of guests from Alberta coming back. Mum and dad moved to Alberta in the 60s, 70s — they just want to see where Grandma and Grandpa homesteaded.”

The Centennial year looks like it will be a good one for agritourism in Saskatchewan.



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Backpackers can follow in the footsteps of the Klondike Stampeders on one of the most fabled hiking trails in the world. But beware: the Chilkoot Trail is not for novices.

BY JULIE PLOURDE

Clad in heavy wool clothing, his back curved under the weight of gear loaded on his back, Sébastien Racine spent the summer of 2002 exploring one of the most famous hiking trails in the world.

Snaking between Alaska and the Yukon, the rugged Chilkoot Trail is littered with relics of the legendary Klondike Gold Rush that electrified the world at the end of the 19th century.

More than 100 years later, Racine helped re-enact the stampeders' experience for TV cameras. Canada's History Television channel selected him and four others to re-enact the lives of the men and women who risked everything in one of the most compelling human dramas in Canadian and American history.

Like the estimated 25,000 people who struggled along what was dubbed "the poor man's route to the Klondike" between 1896 and 1899, Racine gave his all on the demanding journey from Dyea, Alaska, to the famous gold-rush town of Dawson City, Yukon. Participants first hiked the challenging 53-km trek through the Chilkoot Pass, carrying a wooden boat that they assembled at British Columbia’s Lake Bennett. Then they travelled 800 kilometres up the Yukon River to Dawson, filming the entire trip for the living-history series Klondike: The Quest for Gold.

Also like most of the stampeders, Racine did not come away a rich man. Then again, in his case the goal was adventure, not gold.

"We knew how our journey would end and we knew that a comfortable bed, warm clothes and good food would be waiting at the end of every day," he recalls. "But people never rested during the gold rush. Once they got to Dawson City, if they weren't looking for gold they were dying of hunger. Their entire futures were at stake, whereas for us it was just a matter of three and a half months. We had enormous respect for them."

The stampeders, who abandoned their regular lives to try their luck in the hostile Canadian northwest, came from all over ― Canada, the U.S., Europe, even Japan.

Short but Tough
The Chilkoot Trail was the shortest of the dozen routes to the Klondike gold fields, but it was also the most difficult. Avalanches, fog and snowstorms often ambushed the gold seekers, some of whom died on the trail.

Miners, missionaries and voyageurs first used the route between Dyea and Dawson City in the early 1880s. Long controlled by Tlingit First Nation traders, who acted as middleman between inland and coastal aboriginals, the trail was gradually opened to a steady stream of gold rush prospectors.

Today a national historic site managed by Parks Canada, the Chilkoot Trail attracts more than 3,000 backpackers a year who trek the segment between Dyea and Bennett.

Invariably they are as awed by the breathtaking scenery as they are by the trail's historic significance. Andrée Gaulin, a staff member at the Yukon office of Parks Canada, has hiked the trail twice. "It's one of the most spectacular and majestic trails anywhere," she raves. "That's why people hike it. It's stunningly beautiful."

After winding through the rainforest near Dyea, the route climbs to more than 1,000 metres, crosses alpine tundra and then plunges into the boreal forest. The segment takes from three to five days to travel, and Racine, a seasoned hiker, acknowledges it is both a mental and physical challenge. "I was very tired because it's hard physically," he says. "But as the days pass you become more resilient."

Sylvie Francoeur and Stéphane Sévigny, who were inspired to travel the trail by James Michener's book Alaska, also experienced sore muscles and exhaustion. Somewhat ill-prepared, Francoeur suffered sore joints and her muscles ached from carrying equipment not particularly suited for the expedition. Meanwhile Sévigny gave up counting the blisters on his feet.

Yet they were toting only 40 kilos ― far, far less than the miners of yore, who on emerging from the Chilkoot Pass had to pass through a weigh station at the border, guarded by the North-West Mounted Police. With famine threatening Dawson, which was undergoing explosive growth, the rules were strict: Nobody entered Canada without bringing in literally a ton of provisions. Newcomers often made 30 roundtrips through the pass, lugging supplies on their backs.

The trickiest part of the route is the approach to the summit of the Chilkoot Pass, which rises at a dizzying 45-degree angle. Long ago this was the setting for an endless procession of gold seekers, climbing painfully in single file, some actually hauling boats to use on the river segment of their journey.

The summit of the pass is like a museum, with jumbled piles of canoes, boot soles, and cooking pots cluttering the trail. "These gold rush artefacts are what make the route a real outdoor museum," observes Gaulin.

Gaulin does not recommend the route for beginners. "It's not an easy hike," she warns. "It's not for novices, it's for intermediate to advanced trekkers."

Despite the effort it took, Francoeur and Sévigny, who live in the Northwest Territories, have fond memories of the Chilkoot Trail. "We had pleasant encounters with other hikers," Francoeur recalls. "You form immediate connections. We were even offered food." Like Gaulin and Racine, Francoeur and Sévigny say the reward for all their hard slogging was the profound sense of gold-rush history they experienced on the trail.

Racine, too, felt a strong kinship with the stampeders on his long expedition from Dyea to Dawson. "I felt like a true Klondiker. I felt strong. I felt like a real tough guy. I felt really connected to the gold-rush period and the stampeders because I was doing the same journey under the same conditions."

Whether drawn by hiking or history, backpackers on the Chilkoot Trail walk in the footsteps of the men and women who dreamt of finding gold in the Klondike.


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



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The views are worth the drive for a heavenly dip in the steaming waters of Miette Hot Springs in Jasper National Park, the hottest of all the Canadian Rockies thermal springs.

BY TAMARA NOWAKOWSKY

It’s cool to be hot in Alberta's Jasper National Park. Here, at Miette Hot Springs, the steaming hot springs – with the hottest water of all the Canadian Rockies thermal springs – reach a maximum temperature of 53.9° C. Mind you, the water is cooled for bathers to a comfortable 39° C or so.

On a first visit to Miette, or a return trip if you haven’t been here for a while, chances are you’ll walk away feeling like a modern-day explorer who has just made a very important discovery.

First-timers can be forgiven for mistaking the drive to Miette through the spectacular Fiddle Valley as the reward, since the road winds past interesting sites like Punchbowl Falls and the jaw-dropping scene at the Ashlar Ridge Viewpoint. Surely, half the fun is getting there.

Similarly entertaining is the family of mountain sheep that visitors encounter while finding a parking spot at the pool site. A fixture at Miette, the sheep have been greeting arriving guests here for years. Stories abound about people leaving the pool building and concluding they were in the hot water a little too long, having caught sight of a sheep on the hood of their car. The sheep also like to crawl under cars to lick salt from the undercarriages.

The staff at the Miette Hot Springs pool facility are so friendly you might feel like you’re visiting relatives. And like a grandmother who scolds you for walking in the house with your shoes on, the cashiers eagerly call out to people walking into changing areas to remove their shoes. The mixture of heavy foot traffic and a wet, warm environment with a heated floor can potentially breed bacteria, so cleaning staff work continually to provide and maintain sanitary conditions.

When you exit the change room to the poolside and take in the view, you’ll be struck with the realization that the journey to get here, as wonderful as it was, was simply the means to an end.

The only decisions remaining are where to start, as there are three pools, and where to sit, since there are amazing vistas on all four sides of the pools.

The little pool tucked away behind a half-wall evokes the most curiosity, and visitors soon realize it’s called the cold plunge pool for a reason. If you’re brave and hearty enough to enter past your ankles, you’ll probably end up asking yourself: "If I could make a sound, would my shrieks reverberate off of the mountains or be absorbed by them?" And then as you remember that two hot pools await, you’ll likely exit faster than from any pool ever before.

The shallow hot pool is set to 39° C, while the deeper hot pool is kept at 41° C, a temperature that makes a long soak difficult and in fact inadvisable. (In the hot springs, the deeper the source water goes, the hotter it gets. At this, the hottest springs in the Canadian Rockies, the precious liquid is heated directly by the Earth’s core and returns to the surface hot and loaded with dissolved natural minerals at a rate of 1,540 litres or 350 gallons per minute.) When the time comes to get out, many bathers can't resist the urge to do the circle of all three pools again.

For those who have time and energy after their dips, the site offers plenty of other activities as well. In addition to a café, gift shop and gardens, Miette's rich history is depicted on an interpretive trail leading to the original bathhouse that was erected at the source of the hot springs. Historic photographs provide an entertaining and informative peek at the period from 1919, when the first crude pool and change house were built, to the 1930s, when the original building was constructed. Miette also offers outstanding hiking in the surrounding sub-alpine terrain, along with excellent wildlife-viewing opportunities.

At the end of the day, head into Jasper to check out a variety of hotels and bed-and-breakfasts. Or if you have only enough energy to get down from the mountain, consider staying at the cozy Pocahontas Bungalows at the base of the mountain.

Resist the urge to share stories of your discovery with friends and family… at least for a day or two. Bask in the glow that comes from knowing that while you were not the first to discover the hot springs, the experience has left you deservedly, thoroughly pleased with yourself.


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



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New Brunswick is woven with some beautiful rivers. One of them in particular, the Miramichi, offers a wealth of activities – and that's no fish story.

BY ANNE MARIE PARENT

As a rule, any self-respecting tourist heads straight for the coast upon arrival in New Brunswick, for the call of the sea is very powerful in the Maritimes.

But last autumn, deciding it was time for something different, I travelled instead to the Miramichi Valley, a popular fall foliage destination. The Miramichi River, which flows into the bay of the same name, courses to the very heart of New Brunswick and offers just as many activities as a visit to the province's seashore.

There are no national or provincial parks along this waterway or any of its 37 tributaries, so the valley is relatively little known among tourists. Still, it draws New Brunswickers who own cottages here, visitors like me who are passing through, and members of private hunting and fishing clubs – salmon fishing being indisputably the most popular activity in the valley.

Salmon Centre
Not only does the Miramichi watershed drain about one fifth of the province, according to the New Brunswick Department of National Resources, the river boasts North America’s greatest stock of Atlantic salmon.

While the smallest specimens weigh in at between 1.3 and 2.3 kilograms, the biggest tip the scales at an average 3.6 to 5.4 kilograms – and occasionally much more, like the time in 1990 when one delighted angler snagged a 32.6-kilogram behemoth.

On the whole, fishermen on the river display great sportsmanship. "About 95% of them release their catches back into the water," noted Caroline Saint-Pierre Taylor, innkeeper at The Ledges Inn in Doaktown.

So the released fish continue their journey to the ocean, returning two or three years later in better shape (literally!), having reached trophy proportions (nine kilograms and up). And because each tributary of the Miramichi is crammed with salmon at different periods of their migration, fishing season stretches from June to October.

In fact the Atlantic salmon is so closely associated with the Miramichi Valley that Doaktown has a museum dedicated to the species. Granted, the tanks at the museum hold only a few salmon, but visitors to the small facility can learn the story of salmon through photos, paintings and collections of fishing flies.

Outdoor Pleasures
While the Miramichi is renowned as a sport-fishing paradise and casting a line into its waters is great fun, the river valley features plenty of other things to do too. Well aware of this, the owners of The Ledges Inn offer not only fly-fishing but hiking and cycling as well as kayak and canoe excursions.

So it was that, accompanied by two guides from the inn, I set out to explore the Miramichi. Parts of the river were calm, but other parts bubbled over small sets of rapids, adding to our pleasure. During our morning paddle, we passed beneath an old railway bridge that in October 2002 became part of the New Brunswick Trail, a multi-use trail that runs for 75 kilometres between Astle and Quarryville.

After stopping on a spit of land to enjoy a delicious picnic Caroline had prepared, complete with a bottle of wine and homemade muffins, we arrived back at the inn at 1:30. Caroline was clearly surprised to see us. "Was the wind behind you?" she asked. "I wasn't expecting you back until around 3:00!" Perfect – I would have time for a little more sightseeing.

My guides, Derek and Lynn, took me off to the village of Boiestown and a woodland owned by the Bowater pulp and paper company. Local outfitters can access this private property for a fee. A short hike took us to Fall Brook Falls, New Brunswick's highest waterfall.

Back on the road, we headed to the suspension bridge at Priceville. Built in 1938 and restored in 1988, the footbridge stretches for 192 metres across the river and sways in the wind – scarcely reassuring to timid types like me!

Then it was off to see the Big Hole Brook salmon pool owned by the J.D. Irving company. Wardens who live in a camp overlooking the holding pool are on duty 24 hours a day to prevent poaching. With good reason – up to 2,000 salmon at a time rest in the pool at the confluence of the brook and the Miramichi. The strongest salmon regularly leap out of the water, which only further whets the appetites of illegal fishermen.

By then dusk was descending and I, too, was feeling famished; all that fresh air had made me hungry. My guides escorted me back to the inn, where a delectable spread whipped up by Caroline capped a delightful day in the Miramichi Valley.


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



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When the United States was in the grip of Prohibition, many Maritimers laid down their fishing rods and took up the profitable but risky business of rum running to quench American thirsts.

BY HUGO PARADIS

A fisherman's life isn't always easy, nor does it always pay very well. But experience on the high seas can sometimes prove useful in other ways, say, for smuggling liquor.

During American Prohibition in the early 1900s, many Atlantic Canada fishermen supported their families by running liquor to the U.S. northeast coast, where people were painfully parched due to the Volstead Act, the American law prohibiting the consumption, sale and manufacture of alcoholic beverages.

"Americans had two choices in the 1920s," says Jean-Pierre Andrieux, author of Prohibition and St. Pierre: When Distillers and Rum Runners Made France's Colony Off Newfoundland a Principal Centre for the Liquor Trade. "They could drink bathtub gin, which could make you go blind, or they could turn to their northern neighbours."

Canada-wide, Prohibition lasted only two years, from 1917 to 1919, but the temperance movement bracketing that period was more enduring. Some provinces, like Prince Edward Island, were entirely "dry" by the late 19th century. Quebec, on the other hand, was fiercely opposed to any such measures. At one point during American Prohibition, la Belle Province was the only place in Canada where alcohol was not banned.

But even when alcohol consumption was outlawed in a province, it was often still legal to make it for military or medical purposes or for export. And overnight, ordinary fishermen discovered they had a talent for "international trade," braving storms to get their liquor cargos to port, using visual navigation on ink-black nights to evade the Coast Guard, risking their very lives in order to make a better living.

Prior to Prohibition, a segment of Canadian mariners had been involved in the entirely legal shipping of alcohol between the Caribbean Islands and Canada. But as demand grew, other seamen of every ilk quickly joined the act, particularly after Canadian laws on exporting alcohol began to be more strictly enforced.

Dodging Authorities
An illicit trade developed along the Canada-U.S. border early on in Prohibition. Some smugglers were especially drawn to the part of the border that runs through the Great Lakes region between Ontario and the United States, where they came up with ingenious ways to dodge the Coast Guard.

"In Windsor, for example," Andrieux notes, "the Hiram Walker distillery could load as many as 25 cases of Canadian Club whisky onto small rowboats that were officially bound for Cuba, which is a bit far for a rowboat to travel! And sure enough, an hour later the cargo would be in Detroit."

When U.S. authorities realized the scale of the transborder trafficking, it was the last straw. The United States demanded Canada change its laws, or face economic reprisals.

Canada's response was immediate. It decreed that only ocean-going vessels would be allowed to transport alcohol out of Canada and that payments to distilleries would be held back until written proof was received that cargos had been offloaded in ports exempt from Prohibition laws.

From then on, Canadian vessels permitted to depart with cargos of alcohol were allowed to sail only for the Bahamas, Bermuda, Honduras, Belize or St-Pierre-Miquelon, the small French islands located just offshore from Newfoundland.

At the time, however, St-Pierre-Miquelon could not legally import spirits from foreign countries. And while the finest French alcoholic products could theoretically be shipped to the islands, Americans much preferred bourbon and rye, whiskies that were easy to distil in Canada.

"This is when an American name Bill McCoy entered the scene," Andrieux recalls. "He was a bootlegger, neither a Mafioso nor a lowlife, who always provided his customers with the very best of what was available. Whence the expression 'the real McCoy,' still meant the crème de la crème."

One day when his schooner was having problems, McCoy put in at Halifax, where he encountered a French wine merchant named Folquet. Folquet suggested McCoy have his damaged vessel repaired in St-Pierre-Miquelon and offered to supply McCoy with a variety of alcohol.

Together, McCoy and Folquet dangled before St-Pierre residents the prospect of a lucrative liquor trade with the United States, and pressure was exerted on Paris to soften the trade laws. As a result, the laws were changed in 1922. To protect producers in Martinique and Guadeloupe, rum from British Guyana was still barred from import to St-Pierre-Miquelon. But all other spirits could freely enter the archipelago and then depart for the United States via Fire Island off New York.

So St-Pierre-Miquelon became a hub of liquor smuggling for the east coast of North America and Canada became one of the biggest producers of spirits in the world. Companies like Hiram Walker, BC Distilleries and Seagram saw their profits skyrocket. And a legion of Canadian mariners were baptized rum runners – a term that sometimes also applied to their vessels.

Meanwhile the bootlegging business proved a boon for Nova Scotia shipbuilders. Shipyards from Halifax to Baie Sainte-Marie to Lunenburg began turning out vessels specially designed for smuggling. Before long Nova Scotia's south coast became known as Rum Row.

Booming Business
At the height of the smuggling, some 350,000 cases of spirits passed through the St-Pierre islands every month. Most of the liquor was produced in Quebec and Ontario, while the deals were made in Montreal, where all the big distilleries were located and where the Mafia would place orders.

At first the rum runners used schooners, says Andrieux, but then gradually they began to acquire old U.S. Navy submarine chasers. Sub chasers were grey, low to the water and had no masts, so they were very difficult to spot. Cargos would be transferred far out at sea, in international waters. The sub chasers operated only on cloudy or moonless nights. Fortunately for the rum runners, radar hadn't yet been invented.

"The only thing that could give them away was the noise of the wooden crates being transferred between vessels," Andrieux notes. "Depending on the wind, the Coast Guard could pinpoint their location and then detain them as soon as they re-entered territorial waters.

"At that point Al Capone himself came up with the solution to the problem while on a visit to St-Pierre-Miquelon. Instead of wooden crates, he hit upon the idea of wrapping each bottle in straw and then putting the bottles in burlap bags." After that, silence reigned.

The new packing system meant that some 350,000 wooden crates, emptied of their bottles, were abandoned on the shores of St-Pierre-Miquelon every month. The crates were torn apart and used for firewood, but they also served another purpose. "All the houses constructed in St-Pierre in the 1920s were made entirely with wood from whisky crates," Andrieux says.

In 1932, Franklin D. Roosevelt came to power on the strength of his promise to end Prohibition. True to his word, after 13 dry years temperance gave way to indulgence in 1933.

Today there are few traces left in Canada of the rum runners. True, a small section of the Fisheries Museum of the Atlantic in Lunenburg is devoted to them, and Andrieux displays a collection of rum-running artifacts at the Hôtel Robert in St-Pierre-Miquelon.

But overall these remarkable seafarers have largely been forgotten. It's almost as if history drank so much during that period, it now has only the haziest memory of what occurred.


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



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Appearances can be deceiving. Beneath Ottawa's placid surface there lurks a dark side filled with the ghosts of lost souls… or so The Haunted Walks tour company gravely holds.

BY HUGO PARADIS

Most people react with laughter or scepticism when they hear about Ottawa's guided ghost walks. But the Haunted Walks tour guides shrug off such cynicism, for they have an unshakeable belief in what they do, and in the spooky tales they tell as each tour unfolds.

Lantern in hand, standing outside buildings where chilling murders occurred long ago and misbehaving ghosts allegedly dwell to this day, the guides recount spellbinding stories about Ottawa's darker past. Every story has been checked and double-checked, verified through archives, old newspaper clippings and, where possible, actual interviews with the people involved. "Each of our stories is thoroughly researched and documented," says company founder Glen Shackleton. "Before adding a new story to a tour, we always seek out the evidence to substantiate it."

Shackleton and his tour guides - unarmed ghost busters, if you will - have been roaming the streets of Sandy Hill and other Ottawa neighbourhoods since 1995, trailed by small groups of people who start out intrigued and end up looking over their shoulders nervously. In 2004, 30,000 people joined one or another of the Haunted Walks tours.

Some are curious about the west wing of the fourth floor of the Canadian Museum of Nature, which remains empty because it's reputedly haunted. Others have heard about the séances the late Prime Minister William Lyon Mackenzie King used to hold. Still others want to know whether the rumours are true about repeated apparitions of the ghost of Bishop Joseph-Eugène Guigues, founder of the University of Ottawa. But there are many other spine-tingling anecdotes as well.

Bumps in the Night
Of all the ghost stories told on the tours, the one about the Ottawa Jail hostel, housed on the old Carleton Country Jail premises, makes your blood run coldest.

Hostel managers used to inform arriving guests that if they wanted to spend the night in a cell on the old Death Row, and if they could make it all the way through to dawn without freaking out, they'd get the night's lodging for free.

But nobody ever managed to do it. One guest swore he'd felt the weight of a body across his legs. Another complained of so much kicking from under the bed, he had no choice but to bolt. Countless others simply ended up racing down the stairs from Death Row, screaming, to flee the hostel in terror.

Although the policy helped make the hostel famous, it was eventually abandoned lest people hurt themselves in their headlong rush to get away. But you can still visit the eighth floor - in daytime - where Patrick James Whelan, the presumed assassin of Thomas D'Arcy McGee, was held. Whelan steadfastly proclaimed his innocence right up until his trip to the scaffold.

"There are a lot of stories about Patrick Whelan," says Shackleton. "One time, two young boys at his gravesite were making fun of him, when suddenly they both developed nosebleeds at exactly the same time. And on three separate occasions on our tours, someone on the tour also developed a nosebleed just as one of our guides was recounting the story about the boys."

Crime Capital
But why does this orderly and rather sedate city have so many ghost stories? "Maybe because there are many public buildings here, and ghosts like to be seen by lots of people?" Shackleton jokes. "Or maybe," he adds more seriously, "it's because Ottawa was once the North American capital of crime."

Indeed, Ottawa was godless, lawless and without a police force for the first 40 years of its existence. Crime was rampant and murders commonplace. "Everyone laughed when this city was chosen as the federal capital," recalls Shackleton, "because they wondered how MPs would survive in such a hostile environment!"

On top of that, before 1809 the British laws in effect in Ontario provided easily 100 reasons to hang anyone who broke the law. So maybe Ontario's nooks and crannies are populated with lost souls still angry about having been executed for a petty crime.

Whatever the reasons for Ottawa's haunting, every year the tour company adds new scary stories to its stock of terrifying tales. "Customers are often a great source of information," Shackleton notes. "Some of them take a tour because they've had a strange experience themselves, and they tell their stories to our guides. The guides then verify and authenticate them, and eventually add them to the tour."

Shackleton himself has encountered a ghost first-hand, or at least experienced a paranormal encounter. "It was at the Bytown Museum, where I'm chairman of the board of directors. There were four of us that night. We were leaving the museum and there was nobody behind us. We closed a sliding door. It began to vibrate, really strongly, as if someone on the other side was hitting it. If anyone had been there, the security camera would have picked him up. But there was nobody, although we heard heavy steps walking away." Shackleton believes it might have been the ghost of Duncan McNab, once the building custodian and a reputed prankster.

Brrr! Whether you're a sceptic or a believer, whether the stories are true or not, a Haunted Walks tour is a thrilling, chilling foray into another world, a realm of terror, mystery and the unexplained.


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



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Besides Crowbush, Brudenell, Dundarave and other high-profile golf courses, Prince Edward Island offers enticing low-budget courses worthy of the challenge.

BY SIMON GARNEAU

Not all of Prince Edward Island’s 20 or so intermediate golf courses can rival the challenge of the majors - Crowbush Cove, Brudenell, Dundarave, to name a few - but several deserve recognition for their remarkable beauty of location and for the high value of quality play provided for the price.

These courses were designed to satisfy local players rather than tourists. As a result, they are not as busy as the more prestigious clubs. And because they don’t cost an arm and a leg, they are very attractive to people wanting to golf a round for under $80.

My father, a retiree who is an avid golfer, has tried most of Prince Edward Island's courses. I defer to his wisdom. Here are Dad's choices.

Golfing on the Gulf
The Stanhope Golf and Country Club is an 18-hole course located on the shores of Covehead Bay, overlooking the Gulf of St. Lawrence, with sixteen of its eighteen holes offering views of the Bay. This course boasts a lovely, rolling terrain with wide and forgiving fairways that allow for mistakes.

Usually the first course to open early in the season, Stanhope offers good greens and reasonable green fees, at $50. The staff is friendly and helpful. Even if you call at the last minute, your chances of playing a round are always good, a true bonus.

Golfing on the Strait
The Belfast Highland Greens Golf Course offers a panoramic waterfront view on the other side of the Island. Located on a cape facing Northumberland Strait, it offers breathtaking views, and at $35 for "18 holes," it is Dad's least expensive choice.

The catch is, it's really a nine-hole course that you play twice: not a bad move if you're looking to improve your game. Now, although this course typically attracts occasional golfers, it is far from easy. The long, sloping fairways present real challenges.

Like the scenario at Stanhope Golf and Country Club, the view here is particularly striking in late afternoon. If you happen to be at the 9th hole around sunset, you'll be hard-pressed to leave for the 19th hole, which is the clubhouse.

Challenges
For all these scenic courses, my father insists that the links-style Avondale Golf Club offers the best value for the price - and the toughest challenge. This eighteen-hole course - more difficult than Stanhope and Belfast Highland Greens - requires strategy and judgement. It rambles through a wooded area with well-defined fairways that are truly unforgiving, and greens that are wide and hilly.

For added excitement, ten of its eighteen holes have a sand trap. The clubhouse balcony offers a pleasant view of seven greens and tee-boxes. Avondale lures golfers that don't mind playing an inland course lacking ocean views: they come to test their mettle on the high-quality course.

To boot, you can multiply savings on each of these three courses by forgoing the cart. All the courses are easy to walk, with fairways that are well spread out and unhampered by blind areas. Finally, they are all located within 40 minutes of Charlottetown, a pleasant city to use as a base, or to forget your game, as the case may be. So says my dad and father knows best.


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



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Besides the bucolic scenery that beckons in the mountainous countryside north of Montreal, there are charming inns that open doors to gourmet regional cuisine.

BY MARGARET SWAINE

My first night in Quebec's Laurentians, I call my husband to describe the bucolic scenery surrounding my bed and breakfast or "gîte" in French: a land dotted with apple orchards, vineyards and ancient farmhouses of stone and sloping tin roofs. Set in Saint-Joseph-du-Lac a mere half-hour northwest of downtown Montreal, it feels like a place in early Quebec history.

"I thought the Laurentians were ski hills, Mont Tremblant and other snowy slopes," says my husband. Neither a skier nor fond of winter, he has declined to join me on my expedition to discover the region's gastronomy. "They are partly that," I reply, "but look at a map. The area is huge and diverse."

I have begun my journey in apple, maple-syrup and vineyard country with a stay at La Roche des Brises, a hive of year-round activities operated by Gina Pratt and husband Jean-Pierre Bélisle. In spring the maple sap runs, the sugar shacks are opened to the public and people flock to the property to see the sap turned into maple syrup and enjoy meals of scrambled eggs, sausages and beans drenched in the amber liquid. During the brilliant fall foliage period, it's apple and grape harvest season, and visitors pick their own apples and sample apple cider and wine.

Year-round, food lovers come for the fine regional cuisine at the Brises des Bois restaurant (beside their wine-tasting room). Chef Kevin Kelly and sommelier/maitre d’ Marie Bélisle (the owner’s daughter) create a truly gourmet dining experience at the restaurant, which overlooks rolling farmland. Accommodations are in a house across the street, really a small inn or "auberge," with seven large, luxurious rooms. One of a few five-star gîtes in the province, this country gem requires advance reservations. Ditto for the restaurant – Quebecois love their fine food.

The following day I stop at Les Vergers Lafrance to sample a range of their strong (alcoholic) ciders, from sparkling to still and dry to sweet apple cider ice wine and a port style aged in wood. All delicious, I buy a champagne-method one and some artisanal cider vinegar to take home. On autumn weekends, 2,000 visitors are attracted by the café, live folk music and picnic areas at Vergers Lafrance.

Next I head for nearby Saint-Benoit-Mirabel to visit Intermiel, a family-run farm of 2,000 beehives and myriad honey products of every imaginable variety, including eight different honey wines as well as cosmetics made from royal jelly. A guided tour (with a film and tasting) lasts two hours. For kids, Intermiel offers a learning centre, animal-filled barn and puppet shows.

A leisurely drive along backcountry roads leads to Le Clos Joli in Morin Heights. This family-owned auberge and restaurant is five minutes from the ski hills and shops of Saint-Sauveur-des-Monts. Owner-chefs Andrée Theoret and Gemma Morin delight visitors from around the world with their seasonally inspired variations of salmon, lamb, venison, bison and duckling.

Formerly a farmhouse, the place has nine bedrooms with basics like en-suite bathrooms and a clothes cupboard, but little else. Its draw is the package for two: room, five-course meal and full breakfast at $160. The table d'hôte without accommodation starts at $35. My seven-course $45 dégustation menu ends with Quebec cheeses and dessert. Happily, I can just roll into bed.

Next morning, I visit the nearby Ofuro Spa to rejuvenate. Set in the woods where two streams meet, with natural waterfalls and bathing pools, it's an oasis of peace.

My destination in Val-David is Edelweiss, a charming auberge with large rooms, most with fireplaces, balconies and therapeutic multi-jet tubs-for-two. The award-winning dining room on the second floor is presided over by owners Nathalie Chenier and her Belgian husband Olivier Sadones, the chef. The meal is an extravaganza perfectly matched with a selection of wines by the glass. I decide not to tantalize my husband with an envy-inducing phone call describing the Quebec foie gras, deboned Belchasse squab, terrine of three Quebec cheeses and Belgian chocolate mousse. Instead I sink into my spa tub and let its 16 jets simultaneously caress my body. I don't miss my man one bit this night.

On day four I visit Gérald Le Gal, owner of Sainte-Adèle's Gourmet Sauvage, a company that harvests wild edibles from Canadian forests. His products, including cattail hearts, milkweed pod ketchup and cedar jelly, are sold in stores throughout the Laurentians.

I've wanted to eat at Hôtel La Sapinière ever since my childhood, when during family ski vacations in nearby Val-Morin I would ski over to peer through its windows. Even then I knew its reputation for gourmet food. Founded in 1936, today it's the granddad of Laurentian resorts, with most of its 70 rooms recently renovated.

Much-awarded chef Daniel St-Pierre (formerly of L'Eau à la Bouche and other renowned establishments) heads the kitchen. The place is so well loved that almost half its customers are repeats, some reserving a year ahead. The menu changes daily so there's no fear of boredom. St-Pierre is working with others in the area on a Laurentian "gastronomic route" that will link fine restaurants that use regional products in at least 75 per cent of their menus.

After an impressive meal, maitre d' Gilles Godbout shows off the inspiring 10,000-bottle wine cellar. Alas, the Pétrus is gone: Godbout says an American bought it all, spending $25,000 on wine in two days.

Driving home in the morning, I remember the tip a fellow foodie gave me about the Becs-Fins boutique, a gourmet outlet on Route 158 between Saint-Jérôme and Lachute. I stop to load up on foie gras, tourtière, fresh and smoked duck breast, duck confit, pintade terrine and rabbit in mustard sauce. A peace offering to my husband that will thrill his taste buds.


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



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by Claude-Jean Harel

The Wilkinsons’ old farmyard hasn’t seen this many visitors in years.

Bus and Audrey Wilkinson had been quietly fixing up the 1912 family house for some time, with the intent of allowing town visitors through the place for the first time in years on the Canada Day long weekend.

The large two-storey red brick house is magnificent, with its glorious front porch and second floor sunroom with windows on three sides. It still needs work, but it sure looks good enough to figure on the Yellow Grass Homecoming program.

The smiles, the feelings of wonder participants experienced as they witnessed the Friday parade of old cars and farm machinery down the streets, and the pride in showing everyone those old things brought out for the occasion was just like balm for the soul.

In the Community Hall, a display of quilts from various periods chronicled the joys and sorrows of a rich history. Among all those quilts was a yellow one made up of over 400 small patches, each embroidered with the name of a local pioneer. The caption beside it indicated it was made in 1903. The same year, the massive stone, two-storey public school was erected on Souris Street.

In its shadow, sheltered from the rare sun this early summer, town visitors and residents were all gathered in the public park for a Saturday evening community meal crowned with a giant Centennial cake.

For the brief spell of a weekend, the town population had doubled. Everywhere around, one could hear greetings like: “How long has it been? Thirty years? It is so nice to see you!” Hugs and kisses.

Kids played on the swings innocently unaware of history, while a local band pulled out all its musical instruments from an old decommissioned ambulance from the 1970s that hadn’t seen a fresh coat of paint since it came out of the factory. “It works great for us,” quipped one of the band members. There would be a street dance that night.

What might strike a city dweller about life in small towns is likely the way in which people help each other in times of hardship. Those stories may lay buried in memory for years until gatherings like this one bring them out, as a commemoration of pioneer drive, selflessness and co-operation.

Yellow Grass has changed, but some things remain. The town still holds the record for highest temperature in Canada. It was 45°C there on July 5, 1937.

However, there are now fewer grain elevators along Highway 39. As a Centennial project, a few enlightened townspeople figured it was worth it to built a scaled-down row of elevators for everyone to see just how important to the town’s identity farming has been and still is.

As one walks through town, one notices the discreet signs on individual lots. Some lots have a house or a building on them. Others are empty. On each sign, the names of families that lived there are inscribed. Political correctness yields way to research accuracy, as instances of multiple spouses listed per individual are plainly noted. It is, after all, a sign of the times. The intent is to be inclusive, to recognize that all who have lived in Yellow Grass have contributed to giving the town a reason to celebrate.

This is an exceptional year for Saskatchewan—and rural communities in particular — for those who inhabit our province this year celebrate roots, friendships and relationships under the auspices of the Centennial. The celebration may be one of pride, but also perhaps one of the legitimacy of hoping for a promising future.



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I love history - I also love being pampered, so when I discovered the Baldachin Inn in Merrickville, Ontario, I was in my element. Less than an hour's drive from Ottawa, Canada's capital city, the Baldachin Inn combines old world charm and elegance with the best of modern amenities.

BY LINDA AKSOMITIS

After a hectic spring of delivering training seminars I was more than ready for a retreat when I checked into the Baldachin, so I’d booked the Bridal Suite. It more than met my expectations! I had not two rooms, but four—a bedroom with a four-poster bed, a sitting room with cozy furniture, a huge Jacuzzi room with a fireplace, plus a small bathroom.

The light beige colors of the bedroom décor contrasted nicely with the dark wood to inspire a feeling of elegance. A throw rug, its rose pattern matching the tapestry finish of the antique chair, covered the original hardwood floor at the bedside. The plaster walls, at least twelve feet high, were still in wonderful condition.

Beautiful stained glass insets framed the wide doorway between the sitting room and bedroom. The same tapestry motif carried throughout the sitting room couch and cushions, and another small rug over the hardwood. Small lamps provided all the light required in the intimate atmosphere.

However, I have to admit I was incredibly pleased to see the large Jacuzzi - certainly a contrast to the first two historical rooms - that filled the corner of the third room! I've always found there's nothing more relaxing than settling into warm water and feeling the gentle massage of spray over aching muscles. The gas fireplace offered another relaxation option in the room. A large shower closet tucked into the opposite wall provided me with an opportunity to get freshened up for supper, while the ½ bath was well equipped with everything I might have needed—or forgotten in my packing.

For my first evening’s meal I wandered down to Harry McLean’s Pub in the street level of the inn. With its 1860’s European Pub styling, I immediately felt at home among the guests and friendly staff. The menu was varied, but after a day in airports and on planes, I decided on a light dinner salad covered with shrimp, delicious.

My night was peaceful, so I felt renewed when I arose late the next morning. I had several things on the day’s agenda: explore the historic community of Merrickville and the Baldachin Inn. I took David and Bev Ellis, the Inn’s owners, up on their offer to show me around.

The Baldachin has a long and varied history. Built in 1860, it was once the largest department store between Chicago and Montreal. One of the key reasons is that the building overlooks the historic Rideau Canal Waterway, which is a series of beautiful lakes and rivers connected by canals for a total of 125 miles (202 km), and was one of the region’s main modes of transportation from its building in 1832. Today a Canadian National Historic Site and designated Canadian Heritage River, the canals are a boater’s paradise and still popular.

Also a Heritage designated building, the Baldachin was owned by railway builder and eccentric millionaire, Harry McLean, in the early 20th century. Like other parts of the historic community, it fell into disrepair for a short period of time before part of it was opened as a dining room in 1987. The Ellis’ purchased it in the spring of 1988 and have restored the entire building over the ensuing years.

Parts of the Baldachin were originally used as apartments, but all have been renovated now to create a selection of a dozen rooms, some full suites and some double rooms, plus several businesses. I visited the Knock Knock Shoppe, with its own street entrance, to discover the 7,000 square feet of antique furniture and fine home accessories. I also stepped into the dress shop to admire not only the racks of beautiful clothing, but also the original embossed metal ceiling and wall coverings.

One of the Baldachin’s treasures is its upper level, which features 15-foot high stonewalls and hardwood floors. It uses a unique building style, the King’s Post Truss system, only found in one other building, still used, in Chicago, which eliminates the need for ceiling supports. This means the giant ballroom is completely open, so brides and their grooms can swirl and twirl the night away. With seating for 200, and an elegant French Country décor, it’s easy to see why the Baldachin Ballroom is a first choice for weddings around the Ottawa area.

Visiting with David, I discovered the Ballroom had once been the center of a much less exciting activity—it had been a Millinery, where hats had been made for the fashionable women of the 1800 and 1900s. The smaller room alongside it had been the dressmaking shop, the size difference reflecting the buying trends of the time. While women usually sewed their own clothing, they pampered themselves with a new hat as the seasons changed.

Evening found me in the Baldachin Dining Room enjoying the superb European cuisine prepared by the Inn’s chef. The chicken was delicious, while my companion’s lamb looked just as delectable. Tiny new potatoes and perfectly prepared vegetables made for a very heart-smart meal; so heart-smart I couldn’t resist the blueberry and whipped cream covered cheesecake for dessert. Relaxation at its best…

As stars filled the evening sky and I curled up with a good book in my sitting room, I imagined myself back a hundred and fifty years in time, listening not to the sounds of cars passing on the street below, but the clip-clop of horses and carriages, and the whistle of ships passing in the canal.


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The abundance of salmon in Knight Inlet lures both grizzlies and orcas, making it a superb place to observe these huge mammals in their natural habitat.

BY JEAN-PIERRE SYLVESTRE

The ends of the earth… That's what it looks like below as our floatplane flies over the chain of islands and islets scattered between northern Vancouver Island and mainland British Columbia.

And now we’re about to land at the ends of the earth. After a 30-minute low-altitude flight over enchanting scenery, the plane descends towards a long inlet on the mainland and touches down near a floating lodge.

Welcome to Knight Inlet, land of grizzlies and killer whales.

An immense 160-kilometre fjord on B.C.'s west coast, Knight Inlet, 80 kilometres north of Campbell River, is located in an area that's home to the largest concentration of grizzly bears in B.C.

North America's largest land mammal, the grizzly stands between 1.7 and 2.8 metres tall and can weigh up to 390 kilograms. And we're about to see many fine specimens of these impressive creatures, in complete safety.

Almost as soon as we alight from the floatplane, we're told to grab our cameras and some warm clothes for a boat trip up the fjord followed by a brief ride on a school bus through the rainforest to two observation towers. The towers overlook rivers swarming with pink salmon fighting their way upriver to spawn.

Bald eagles wheel overhead, watching the activity below closely, looking for an easy meal. Occasionally an otter glides through the water, trying to catch a passing salmon. But most extraordinary are the large numbers of grizzlies who emerge from the forest in search of one of their favourite snacks.

Some 40 bears come to feed here regularly, 60 per cent of them female, usually accompanied by one or two cute cubs. As I focus my telephoto lens on several of them, I recall reading about how Canadian and American wildlife biologists say the grizzly-bear populations in the Yukon, Alaska and here in B.C. are all thriving.

But while the grizzly is dominant hereabouts, there are also black bears in the area. You sometimes spot them near Knight Inlet Lodge, the floating inn where we're staying, especially around dusk.

To the untrained eye, the two species can be almost indistinguishable because some grizzlies have black fur and some black bears have brown fur. But if you look at their heads, you can tell them apart fairly easily. A grizzly's head is sturdier looking, with a marked brow and muzzle. A grizzly also has round ears and a shoulder hump.

Fortunately for the black bear, the two species share this territory peaceably. And neither seems to acknowledge the presence near their feeding grounds of yet another species ― tourists.

Still, the female grizzlies are on constant alert, sniffing the air for any potential threat while their offspring frolic in the water, trying to catch some salmon. The human onlookers are not about to come down from the tower anytime soon ― you never know, maybe the salmon are leathery today.

Abundant Sea Life
In addition to grizzly-viewing, Knight Inlet Lodge offers boat tours to the nearby Johnstone and Queen Charlotte straits, where the waters teem with Dall's porpoises, Pacific white-sided dolphins, Stellar's sea lions and harbour seals.

On our excursion into the straights, lots of these playful sea creatures come and romp around our small powerboat. But what we're really hoping to see is something much bigger, the largest member of the dolphin family in fact ― the killer whale, or orca.

The waters off B.C. are renowned for orcas. Around Vancouver Island alone, 530 of them have been individually identified. Experts divide them into three distinct groups. "Northern residents" and "southern residents" travel within particular ranges off the north and south of the island, and feed primarily on salmon. "Transients" roam over large areas of the island's coast, feeding on marine mammals such as such as seals, sea lions that might weigh up to 300 kilograms, dolphins and even other whales on occasion.

Orcas travel in pods of dozens of animals and have a matriarchal society. Males are easily distinguished by their high dorsal fins, which are triangular and upright. Females are distinguished by their air of authority. They are the leaders, and their offspring stay with them until the death of the mothers.

Close Enough to Touch
We wait in Queen Charlotte Strait, hoping for an appearance by a pod of black-and-white visitors. Our guide, Paul Chaplow, has been observing B.C.'s orcas for 10 years now and is so familiar with them he can recognize individuals by the marks and nicks on their dorsal fins. He has even given some of them names.

Then Chaplow spots two whales, a female called R2, aged 62, and her 44-year-old son R3 (no, not D2!).

Suddenly the seven-metre female surfaces so near that her head is practically touching the boat. She gazes at us, then dives briefly, her son following her, and resurfaces on the port side of the vessel.

Her body is a little longer than the boat, her dorsal fin as tall as we are. We are so close to the two whales we could touch them.

But we don't, because we're so astonished to see these creatures so close up. Or maybe it's just a reflex born of watching too many scary creatures-of-the-sea movies. Then again, our day certainly has had a much happier denouement than the film Orca The Killer Whale.


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



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Cape Breton Island is a rich breeding ground of musical talent. Throughout summer, the island's finest musicians, singers and dancers appear at concerts, music festivals and ceilidhs all over the island, particularly on the west coast.

BY JACQUES COULON

"It took grit and optimism to live on Cape Breton Island 100 years ago," the owner of Morrison’s Pioneer Restaurant in the hamlet of Cape North once told us. His parents had grown up in an era when there were no roads, when boats were the only way to get between the coastal villages of Neil’s Harbour, New Haven, Dingwall and Bay St. Lawrence. Even the Cabot Trail wasn't built until 1932, and then not paved for another 20 years after that.

But this sort of isolation is precisely what helped Cape Breton's Acadian and Scottish communities hold on to their cultural traditions, especially their music. For performers and audiences alike, traditional music today represents a powerful link to their shared heritage, and a way of keeping the past alive.

Acadian Tunes
Chéticamp, one of the three largest Acadian communities in Nova Scotia, was first settled in 1785 by a small group of fishermen who came to be known affectionately as Les Quatorze Vieux (loosely, "14 old men"). When they sailed into the natural harbour here, each had a fiddle in his gear – which just goes to show that the love of music has a very long history in Cape Breton communities. Fishing has declined over the decades, but the music plays on, loud and clear.

In summer the Conseil des arts de Chéticamp presents a series of concerts, while the Doryman Beverage room (near the port) and Le Gabriel Restaurant both offer live music nightly. The evening we were in Chéticamp, several big-name musicians were appearing in the Doryman's salon: Natalie MacMaster, local celebrity Donnie LeBlanc and the young Marc Boudreau. And Rita MacNeil, Theresa MacLellan – the "queen of Cape Breton" – and her sister, Marie, a pianist, were all scheduled to appear in the coming weeks.

Celtic Bastion
The little fishing community of Judique was founded in the 1760s and has been a stronghold of Scottish and Celtic culture ever since. Back then, the tough Scottish Highlanders who were skilled sailors gave the town a bad reputation: the burly Highlanders delighted in provoking the dancers at local balls, and the evenings would invariably end in brawls.

But that's all in the past. Nowadays, the Judique Community Centre and the Kintyre Farm offer civilized concerts from May to late August, with appearances by the likes of Natalie MacMaster, her uncle and mentor Buddy MacMaster, and Mary Graham, all of whom grew up in Judique.

Also in Judique, the Celtic Music Interpretive Centre takes visitors back through the history of traditional music on Cape Breton Island via recordings, photos, family archives and biographies of leading musicians.

Land of Ceilidhs
Mabou, another vibrant centre of Gaelic culture, lies about 30 kilometres northeast of Judique. Gaelic is still taught at the local school, which seems surprising until you visit the An Drochaid (The Bridge) history and folklore museum, where you learn that as recently as the 1930s, more than 60,000 Gaelic-speakers lived in Nova Scotia.

Mabou is also home to the famous Rankin family. John Morris Rankin, the best known of this gifted musical family, died in a car accident in January of 2000. Seventy fiddlers from all over Cape Breton came to pay their last respects at his funeral at St. Mary’s Church in Mabou.

But perhaps more than anything, Mabou, Glencoe Mills, West Mabou and the Gaelic College of Celtic Arts and Crafts in St. Ann’s are all renowned for their summertime ceilidhs.

The ceilidh (pronounced "kay-lee"), which translates roughly as "improvised party" or "gathering of friends," was historically an important element of social life in Cape Breton's Scottish communities. You didn't just attend a ceilidh in a neighbour's home; you literally participated in a ceilidh. In other words, everyone who could contributed to the entertainment, whether fiddling, piano playing, singing, dancing or storytelling.

Storytellers held a special place in what was still a largely oral culture. The best of them could stretch the suspense over many evenings, with enthralled audiences returning night after night to hear the next serial of the tale. Today's ceilidhs attract many enthusiasts, particularly in villages like Judique and Mabou that lie along the aptly named Ceilidh Trail, a 107-kilometre segment of Route 19 between the Canso Causeway and the Cabot Trail.

The Ceilidh Trail is also where you'll find the most popular event on Cape Breton's entire west coast – the Broad Cove Scottish Concert. Held every July at Broad Cove, between Inverness and Dunvegan, this open-air concert at the edge of the sea draws thousands of fans to see dozens of performers.

Beyond the Ceilidh Trail
Iona, at the geographical centre of the Cape Breton highlands, is home to the Highland Village, a living history museum and cultural centre that celebrates the Gaelic experience in Nova Scotia. The annual Highland Village Day concert, a daylong event in August with performances by popular musicians, is always a big hit.

The museum boutique sells music by the Gillis Sisters, the Lighthouse Sisters, the Men of the Deeps and other bands beloved by connoisseurs. And the nearby Highland Heights Inn (open only during tourist season) on Route 223 presents Celtic concerts on summer evenings.

Forty kilometres north of Iona, musicians, singers and dancers appear nightly at the Normaway Inn in Margaree Valley. Some are established acts while others are young, up-and-coming talents, some of whom come from far-flung corners of the continent.

Throughout summer, strains of music fill the air in many other villages and towns as performers take to the stage in church halls, at colleges and at Canadian Legion branches across Cape Breton Island. In fact there are few places on the island where you can't catch a Gaelic-flavoured concert. Even the Ben Eoin ski resort and Ben Eoin Provincial Park (30 kilometres southwest of Sydney on Route 4) co-host a music festival in mid-August.

Musically speaking, there's ample reason for a trip to Cape Breton Island. Or indeed several trips. You'll often hear local bagpipers asking the musical question Will Ye No Come Back Again?


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



Click here for more information on Nova Scotia

Kejimkujik National Park in western Nova Scotia epitomizes the best of the province's two worlds - a glorious coastline and a backcountry blanketed with forests and dotted with lakes.

BY GAÉTAN FONTAINE

Kejimkujik National Park is actually two worlds in one. Divided into two separate and distinct blocks of land, it includes both a vast inland area of beautiful Acadian mixed forest, and a smaller region that hugs the rugged shoreline of the Atlantic coast. Visitors to the park, located a little over 160 kilometres west of Halifax, are enchanted by the unusual concept.

The coastal region, known as the Seaside Adjunct, is one of the few places in the province having a protected coastline. Elsewhere in Nova Scotia, ocean-side lands are rarely in the public domain, but the seashore is still accessible in this part of Kejimkujik.

Visitors can explore the Seaside Adjunct's rich habitat via a self-guided 5.5-kilometre trail that's marked with interpretive panels. The trail meanders through dense, two-metre-high shrubbery that gradually gives way to peat bogs and barrens.

All along the shore, rocky headlands march into the rough waters of the Atlantic and waves crash against the craggy coast. Small beaches and turquoise-hued inlets are tucked among the headlands. The wind blows constantly and stunted spruce trees and other vegetation cling to life tenaciously.

Exploring the area, you may very well spot a river otter or mink busily searching for crabs and other shellfish. Harbour seals, gathered in immense groups, are also among the park's regular visitors. But sightings of the piping plover, an endangered shorebird, are rare.

Lakes and Forests
The inland portion of the park, about 100 kilometres north of the Adjunct, presents a very different picture. It is a landscape of forests that's paradise on earth for campers. Dotted with lakes and laced with rivers, the park is also the perfect setting for canoeing, kayaking and other water sports. Canoe camping around Kejimkujik Lake is very popular: you're even allowed to pitch tents on small, isolated islands.

There's plenty to please walkers, too. The park boasts 15 day-walking trails, each markedly different from the other. One of them, called Hemlocks and Hardwoods, leads through a grove of some of eastern Canada's oldest hemlock trees, including gigantic specimens that are more than 300 years old.

Kejimkujik is also the richest area for turtles in Atlantic Canada. It is home to three species, including the eastern painted turtle, the most common and most often sighted. The snapping turtle, which can weigh up to five kilos, typically only leaves the water during nesting season in late June and early July. The Blanding's turtle is rarer still. There are fewer than 200 in Nova Scotia, with an estimated 75 of them living in the park. Their survival is so precarious that their movements are tracked via radio telemetry.

You're most likely to spot turtles while canoeing or kayaking. Like humans, turtles adore the warm rays of the sun, and they can spend hours basking on rocks or old logs. They may be cold-blooded, but they still know a thing or two about living the good life.


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



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Now Hamilton's Côte d'Acier is the place to be.

BY MARY K. NOLAN

Yeah, sure. The Hamilton waterfront is where it's at, the hottest spot on Lake Ontario, a totally happenin' place.

You may have seen it from the Skyway Bridge that separates the harbour from the lake... all those slag heaps to climb and effluent to inhale… they say you can even walk on the water there. Ha ha ha ha ha.

But Steeltown is getting the last laugh as it finally reclaims the waterfront so long monopolized by belching smokestacks, rusty ore carriers and grime-layered foundries.

To deny the existence of the mills that forged this gritty city would be as realistic as ignoring the wart on a witch's nose. They're part of the scenery, if not particularly attractive, and occupy some prime real estate. Unfortunately, they taint the observer's impressions of an ambitious city that has more treasures to hide than a very efficient pirate.

If that oft-scorned view from the bridge appears to symbolize what Hamilton is not, it is also a metaphor for everything the city is – tough, hardworking, spirited and darn good-looking when seen in the right light.

It's a discovery immediately made by anyone who strays off the Queen Elizabeth Way between Niagara and Toronto – not the "Step on it, George" crowd who avert their gaze and hold their collective breath as they hurry down the highway, but the bold adventurers who've heard what's going on in Hamilton and are curious to investigate just what the buzz is all about.

These days, it's about the spectacular new Canada Marine Discovery Centre, an attraction so... well… attractive that Hamiltonians are afraid to breathe lest it vanish like a genie's ephemeral wish.

Inspired by marine themes, the centre has a shell-shaped roof, a ceiling that looks like a canoe under construction, and a view from the water that gives the impression of billowing sails. Beyond the nine-metre-high foyer are an intimate theatre and four galleries filled with great exhibits like replicas of a kelp forest, the prow of a Newfoundland fishing dory, the Saguenay lighthouse, the wheelhouse of a Great Lakes freighter, and three 455-litre aquariums of local aquatic life.

Her legendary and sometimes abrasive tenacity resulted not only in the construction of the Discovery Centre but the Toronto-to-Hamilton relocation of "the fightingest ship in the Royal Canadian Navy," HMCS Haida. After languishing for three decades at Ontario Place, the last of the tribal-class destroyers was dredged out of its landlocked lagoon in December 2002 and towed to dry dock in St. Catharines for a refit. Last summer, amid splendid fanfare, she was officially welcomed to Hamilton Harbour to take up permanent residence as a tourist attraction outside the naval reserve base.

Never mind grandiose schemes involving waterfront stadiums, glittering casinos and floating hotels, the Discovery Centre and the still-proud Haida are here, now. They are the powerful magnets that drew thousands of locals to the head of the lake for their grand opening in July, simply because the waterfront has become the place to be.

That's not news to everybody. Sir Allan MacNab, premier of the United Canadas from 1854 to 1856, built his magnificent Italianate villa, Dundurn Castle, on a bluff overlooking the bay at the extreme west end of Lake Ontario. Restored as a Centennial project, Dundurn gives visitors an intimate look at how the gentry lived in pioneering times. Costumed guides lead tours through the entire house, from the gloomy but deliciously aromatic kitchen below stairs to MacNab's handsome upstairs bedroom with its canopied bed and unusual gout chair.

In 1894, a local cigar-store owner launched the first Around the Bay road race, a gruelling 30-kilometre challenge that is the oldest and one of the most prestigious running events in North America, older even than the Boston Marathon. As if the distance and the course weren't bad enough, the race (which attracted a record 6,100 runners this year) is always held in the cruel cold of March.

The waterfront is also home to several decades-old private boating clubs that still thrive today, including the Royal Hamilton Yacht Club and the Leander Boat Club, whose stalwart oarsmen can be seen plying the glassy waters on many chilly autumn mornings. A boat-rental livery would be a welcome addition to the scene and it's just a matter of time before some savvy entrepreneur seizes the opportunity.

In the four years since it opened on Canada Day, 2000, the Hamilton Harbour Waterfront Trail has shown no decline in popularity. From day one, the paved 3.4-kilometre trail that stretches from the nature sanctuary of Cootes Paradise along the historic Desjardins Canal to the west harbour has been a huge hit.

On a good day, it is a happily congested knot of dog-walkers, cyclists, in-line skaters, runners and meanderers who haven’t yet quite grasped the keep-to-the-right etiquette of the trail. It is with wonder still that city folk and suburbanites gravitate to one or the other end of the trail and travel its length, captivated by the night herons and mute swans in the foreground of an eclectic panorama that includes the CN railway marshalling yards and those ubiquitous smokestacks. In fact, the trail that finally allowed the residents of a waterfront city to access their waterfront has been the impetus for phenomenal growth and development in harbour-area recreational usage.

The Bayfront and Pier 4 parks have become the site for quiet family picnics and dragon-boat races, Port Days and Aquafest celebrations, travelling carnivals, outdoor ecumenical services, windsurfers, rock concerts, and lovers canoodling on park benches.

The tiny 12-passenger Hamiltonian was launched last summer to ferry people on guided tours of the harbour. A handsome white frame building once occupied by a sailing school has just been renovated to house a trendy coffee pub. News is out that ambitions are afoot to transform Pier 8 into a multimillion-dollar European-style piazza of shops, eateries, residences and recreational facilities, with perhaps even a Canadian Music Hall of Fame.

The lake end of the waterfront, east of the bridge, offers a different experience.

The 8.5-kilometre-long, eight-metre-wide Beachfront Trail opened last summer, running virtually under the bridge across the spit of land that separates the harbour from the lake. It is a paved paradise that one Toronto blading guru christened "without a doubt the best skating route anywhere near Toronto."

But it's much more than that. It's a path to the best fish and chips on the planet at Hutch's famous burger joint, and to the contemporary Mediterranean menu at Baranga's on the Beach, a fine-dining restaurant in a renovated 1904 schoolhouse. It also leads to the challenging mini-putt course of Adventure Village, with its shipwrecks and railway crossings, bridges and waterfalls.

Beach accesses are plentiful, and Confederation Park, which sits smack between the lake and the busy Queen Elizabeth Way, offers both quiet campsites and the frenzied activity of the Wild Waterworks wave pools, waterslides and splash pads.

So go ahead. Laugh, if you will, at the idea of playing along Hamilton's waterfront. But remember, he who laughs last likely lives in Hamilton.


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



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Bicycling is the best way to explore the Gaspé's craggy coast, sprinkled with quaint villages you might otherwise miss. A few steep climbs along the way are worth the effort.

BY ANDRÉ DÉSIRONT

"You're touring the Gaspé by bike! So you've climbed la Madeleine?"

Gaspésiens all know about "la Madeleine," a six-kilometre hill outside the little village of Rivière-Madeleine. And when you say, "Yes, I've climbed la Madeleine," they compliment you on your physical fitness and eye you as if you are a deranged masochist.

La Madeleine is the first in a series of dizzying rises and descents between Rivière-Madeleine and Forillon National Park. It's the longest of these hills, but not the most agonizing. Cyclotourists who have previously circled the Gaspé Peninsula in a clockwise direction know from experience that when they leave Rivière-Madeleine, they're in for two days of hell - or pleasure, depending on their outlook - and that the second day will be even harder than the first. Between Saint-Yvon and Cap-des-Rosiers at the eastern end of Highway 132, the succession of hills seems endless.

I have cycled the loop tour of the peninsula several times now, and la Madeleine has become my point of reference. When I get there, I know that it's the end of my favourite part of the entire 900-kilometre journey - the segment that stretches along the coast from Sainte-Anne-des-Monts to Rivière-Madeleine. After Rivière-Madeleine and its horrendous hill, the road twists away from the shoreline and snakes through the Monts Chic-Chocs foothills for the next 20 kilometres. Cycling this segment, you often have to leave Highway 132 for detours into villages along the way to continue seeing dramatic views of capes and rugged coastline.

Along the entire 100-kilometre portion between Sainte-Anne-des-Monts and Rivière-Madeleine, the road hugs the shore at the base of the cliffs, so you merely have to lift your head to see astounding vistas. Every 10 kilometres or so, there's another village with a lyrical name - like Tourelle, Marsoui, Ruisseau-à-Rebours, L’Anse-Pleureuse, Gros Morne or Manche d’Épée - nestled around a bay where there's just enough space between cliff and ocean for a couple of dozen houses. Standing like sentinels over most of the hamlets are red and white striped lighthouses, now automated and converted into museums.

Fishermen from Montmagny, l'Islet and Île d'Orléans first settled these villages a little over a century ago. They would take refuge along the coast during major late-autumn storms, only to later find themselves hemmed in by ice. Some fishermen put down roots here for closer access to the schools of cod.

Depleted fish stocks and over-forestation have left their descendants in relative poverty.

The resulting starkness of the villages suits the rocky setting. Most travellers pass through without stopping, in a rush to visit the more tourist-oriented Forillon National Park or Percé Rock.

During my periodic visits over the last 25 years, nothing much has changed. You might expect to find a handful of charming restaurants and upscale inns in Mont-Saint-Pierre, which - as eastern Canada's "hang-gliding capital" - is the most visited of these remote villages. But, no. Mont-Saint-Pierre has the same three or four motels, with outmoded names like Les Délices and Les Flots Bleus, it had 20 years ago. On the upside, the lack of development has allowed this portion of the coast, known as the Upper Gaspé, to preserve its unspoiled appeal.

So, I know the big hill outside Rivière-Madeleine will wrench me away from all this coastal charm and take me into the backcountry. But I also know I'll be rewarded for my efforts 20 kilometres further on, at the viewpoint just before the road drops into Grande-Vallée. The panorama spans the entire village, whose church and presbytery rise from an enormous rocky outcrop, as if placed there by a divinely inspired decorator.

As a regular traveller on the loop formed by Highway 132 around the peninsula - this is my fourth time cycling it - I've learned when to turn my head for breathtaking scenery and which side roads lead to the not-to-be-missed lookouts, museums, attractions and lighthouses. I've recorded addresses and favourite stops along the route.

In Petite-Vallée, which calls itself the "Village en chanson," an exhibition hall retraces the history of French song back to La Bolduc. [La Bolduc is the nickname for author-composer-performer Mary Travers-Bolduc, who hailed from the Gaspé and is celebrated as the first French-Canadian chansonnière.] You could spend two hours there, headphones on, enjoying the hits that inspired so many generations of Quebecers to dance. In Forillon National Park, I always try to overnight in Cap-des-Rosiers, just to tuck into a bowl of bouillabaisse at Chez Mona, the area's best eatery. With luck, the fog rises as I leave the restaurant, casting an eerie spell underlined by the moan of a foghorn.

In the town of Gaspé, where a local committee endeavours to repair the errors of the past (chiefly the four-lane road, built in the 1970s, that cuts off the town from its superb bay), I like to linger in one of the sidewalk terraces on Rue de la Reine and then dine at Brise-Bise, the town's liveliest bistro-bar.

I discover something new on every visit to the peninsula. This year it was l’Anse-à-Beaufils near Percé, where a clutch of culture vultures has converted a former fish-processing plant into an arts centre. The ground floor houses an entertainment venue, a boutique selling locally grown products and one of the peninsula's most popular bistro-restaurants. Upstairs is a large art gallery where summertime visitors can watch some 15 painters, sculptors and other artists at work. The place is luring more and more visitors as word spreads about Vieille Usine.

Also in l’Anse-à-Beaufils, Rémi Cloutier, a remarkable storyteller, has brought an old general store back to life, with shelves, wares, counters and goods stashed exactly as they were more than 100 years ago. The original store was owned by Charles Robin and Company, a firm of merchant traders from Jersey in the Channel Islands, who once operated all over the Gaspé.

After l’Anse-à-Beaufils comes Chaleur Bay, where the scenery isn't quite so spectacular. Although the terrain is relatively flat, cyclists often have to battle the prevailing winds out of the west. But one more heaven-sent treat awaits before you complete the Gaspé loop tour: a day of pedalling alongside the Matapédia, one of the prettiest salmon rivers in eastern Canada.


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



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Dunes, lizards, cacti, strange reptiles… Surely this can't be Manitoba?

BY HUGO PARADIS

Wherever we roam in the world, we tend to tote along luggage packed with preconceived ideas. In France, you figure the food is going to be great. In the Caribbean, you assume the weather will be hot. In central Canada, you expect to see nothing but prairie, endless wheat fields and grain silos. And when one of these notions turns out to be wrong, it's always a shock.

Like when you come across a bunch of big sand dunes in the middle of the Manitoba prairies. You can't help but be surprised.

"The Spirits Sands dune field is actually only about three or four square kilometres in area," notes Madeleine Robinson, an interpreter and guide at Spruce Woods Provincial Park. "All the same, before long you start feeling like you're lost in the middle of a dessert, even though there are high grasses growing here and there."

Located on the 50th parallel about 180 kilometres southwest of Winnipeg, Spruce Woods is a geographical oddity in Canada. Long ago the region was covered by a glacier and then submerged for a period beneath Lake Agassiz, an enormous glacial lake. The waters eventually drained away and the region slowly dried out, leaving the sandy ground exposed. The sand soon scattered in the wind, in some places blowing into drifts that became small mountains rising as high as 30 metres. Today, it is the remnants of those dunes that visitors to the park explore and marvel.

Although the Spirit Sands area of the park gets markedly more precipitation than "real" deserts, it nevertheless has a microclimate that provides a hospitable habitat for cacti and reptiles. Residents include the prairie skink, the only lizard native to the Prairies, and the hognose snake, which uses its flat snout to unearth and eat toads that hide in the sand.

But as the name Spruce Woods implies, the park contains more than sand dunes. In fact much of its terrain is covered with spruce trees – another eccentricity of Mother Nature in this area.

"All you see on the Manitoba prairies are potato, wheat and barley fields," says Robinson. "So it's yet another surprise when you see all these evergreens growing in a region that's so well known for its agriculture."

Once covered entirely in sand, the region that now makes up Spruce Woods Provincial Park was always considered poor for farming. As a result, it was left alone and nature was allowed to take its course. Gradually part of the area was colonized by ever-growing numbers of spruce trees, which have such long roots that they can grow in soil that's not terribly fertile.

About 50 trails wind through Spruce Woods, and there are extensive services for campers, cyclists, hikers and horseback riders who want to explore some or all of the park's 235 square kilometres. For those with a yen for water sports, two inviting beaches offer lots of family fun. And when the Assiniboine River is high enough, canoeists can paddle the meandering waterway and admire the cliffs along its banks.

But the award for most bizarre feature in the park doesn't go to the sand dunes. Near the eerie blue-green oasis of spruce trees and spring-fed pond known as the Devil’s Punch Bowl, some people swear there's not just sand, but quicksand. "Personally, I've never been able to confirm it," says Robinson. "It's not impossible, but I have to say I have my doubts."

Whatever the truth of the matter, visitors don't need to become trapped in quicksand to be held in thrall – the parks' extraordinary and beautiful environment accomplishes that.


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



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Thousands of years ago, in a valley on the edge of the prairie, the First Peoples found peace in a place they came to call Wanuskewin. Now a protected heritage park, the site contains fascinating archaeological artefacts that date back 8,000 years, making them twice as old as King Tut's tomb.

BY JEAN-PIERRE SYLVESTRE

The Wanuskewin area, just five kilometres north of Saskatoon, was first investigated in modern times by archaeologists from the University of Saskatchewan. Between 1930 and 1932, they identified a total of 21 archaeological sites at Wanuskewin, all within walking distance of each other. They turned up a wealth of artefacts, from arrowheads to habitation and hunting sites.

Intensive research continues to this day at Wanuskewin, which was officially designated a protected heritage park in 1992. Wanuskewin is a Cree word that loosely translates as "seeking peace of mind" or "living in harmony." A rich source of archeological information, the site is today a remarkable window into Canada's ancient past.

Wanuskewin was initially a wintering ground for five Northern Plains tribes of Saskatchewan - the Cree, Nakota, Saulteaux, Dene and Dakota. But it soon became known for both its medicinal plants and its bison hunting. In fact bison bones have been found at four of the 21 archaeological sites.

Like Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump in Alberta, the Wanuskewin region had cliffs over which First Nations hunters would lure their prey. Weakened and injured from the fall, the bison would then be killed, carved up, cooked and consumed right on the spot.

In addition to evidence of buffalo jumps, artefacts found at the sprawling 120-hectare site include teepee rings, stone cairns, a medicine wheel and prehistoric tools, all of which have helped paint a picture of what life was like here in pre-contact times.

The park's enormous visitor centre houses exhibits about the archaeological findings, local traditions and the central role bison played in the lives of the area’s earliest human inhabitants. The theatre at the visitor centre offers an audiovisual presentation that presents an overview of the park and Northern Plains culture, both past and present.

There is also a large amphitheatre where First Nations songs and dances are performed. Visitors can even opt to overnight in the onsite "Tipi Village," enjoying traditional foods, learning about the plains bison, listening to storytelling around a campfire and participating in other interpretive activities.

The grounds are laced with eight kilometres of walking trails that link the various archaeological attractions, where researchers are still sifting through the past. Nature lovers might want to bring along their binoculars, as more than 180 bird species and some 35 mammal species have been identified in the area.

Walking these peaceful paths of the past, viewing archaeological findings and digs along the way, you'll begin to understand why Wanuskewin has such meaning for the First Nations of North America.


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



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Adventurous road trip along the 734-kilometres gravel lifeline from the Yukon to Inuvik follows a traditional Gwich’in hunting and trapping trail.

BY MARGO PFEIFF

It was the first time I’d ever seen a grizzly bear swatting at mosquitoes. A huge shaggy beast, he pawed his face and took swipes at a halo of bugs I could make out even through binoculars. He was making his way across the broad North Klondike River Valley, autumn yellow and orange tundra stretching towards the jagged skyline of the Tombstone Mountains. There was not another person in sight. It struck me as remarkable that less than two hours of driving had brought me to this wilderness from the Gold Rush razzle-dazzle of Dawson City where paddle wheelers ply the Yukon River and Diamond Tooth Gertie’s gambling hall and the Sourdough Saloon dish out honky-tonk and burlesque.

Mounds of century old mine tailings line the road out of Dawson. After 20 minutes I turned left up the Dempster Highway, Canada's only public road north of the Arctic Circle. For 734 kilometres this gravel lifeline travels through the Yukon to Inuvik on the McKenzie Delta in the Northwest Territory. It follows a traditional Gwich’in hunting and trapping trail across three mountain ranges, two continental divides, five rivers and two time zones. Started in 1958, the Dempster didn’t reach Inuvik until 1979. Although unpaved, the road is remarkably well maintained and is a popular road trip not only for cars, but also for intrepid RV drivers and cyclists.

Green roadside kilometre signs tick off the distance and by the time I’ve reached 70 I’ve climbed into Tombstone Territorial Park, the route’s most scenic stretch and the best place for hiking trips, short and long. At kilometre 102 a single bull moose munches pondweed in Two Moose Lake. Further on a full grown wolf darts across the road. Lined in purple fire-weed, the highway plays tag with the tree line; in the lowlands lush boreal forest surrounds lily pad-dotted ponds and as the road gains altitude the landscape is transformed into wide open, tree-less High Arctic tundra.

There are no communities on the Dempster’s Yukon stretch, only the service oasis of Eagle Plains at kilometre 369 – a hotel, restaurant and gas station. Historical photos cover the hotel hallways including those of the famous outlaw, the Mad Trapper of Rat River. In December 1931 trapper Albert Johnson shot a police officer on the Rat River then evaded a posse before being killed in a shootout with police at his cabin on February 17, 1932, just 25 kilometres from the present hotel. The leader of that police patrol was RNWMP Corporal Dempster after whom the highway was named.

Blowing snow that obscures the Arctic Circle marker at kilometre 405 is a reminder that this is a winter road even in mid-August. Snow storms have closed the Dempster during every month of the year and in some stretches strong winds have ripped signs off posts and flipped fully loaded trucks. Near the Northwest Territory border a broad valley is on the migration route of the Porcupine Caribou Herd; in late fall vehicles can be surrounded with antlers as thousands of caribou are on the move.

A car ferry shuttles me 200 metres across the Peel River to Fort McPherson, the southernmost of three NWT towns on the Dempster. A Gwich’in native settlement of log houses, satellite dishes, tepees, canoes and skidoos, many of its 950 inhabitants still carry on a traditional lifestyle of trapping beaver and hunting caribou.

At kilometre 608 the MV Louis Cardinal ferry takes me across the kilometre wide McKenzie River – the second biggest in North America after the Mississippi – which drains one-fifth of Canada’s land area. The ferry is also the only access to Tsiigehtchic, formerly Arctic Red River, a Gwich’in community of 170 perched on a hillside overlooking the confluence of the McKenzie and Arctic Red Rivers, where moccasins sway on clotheslines and smokehouses filled with drying whitefish billow on a quiet Saturday morning.

In November, as the Peel and McKenzie Rivers freeze up, the Dempster Highway is closed. Road crews monitor the ice until it’s thick enough to re-open the highway in early December when vehicles simply drive across the ice road until spring when the highway closes again during break-up.

Smooth paved road feels strange under my wheels after 734 corrugated kilometres as I pull into Inuvik, population 3,400, a no-nonsense far-north working town and the life support for the entire Western Arctic. Restaurants serve caribou and musk ox and the town landmark is an igloo-shaped church. In forested suburbs I bed down at the Swiss-style log Arctic Chalet run by a true northern couple; Olav Falsnes is a bush pilot and his wife, Judi, raises blue-eyed Huskies to pull her dog sleds.

In summer Inuvik is the terminus of the Dempster Highway, but in winter the road continues for another 190 kilometres across the frozen Arctic Ocean to Tuktoyaktuk. In a Twin Otter I fly across the McKenzie Delta to "Tuk", an Inuvialuit hamlet surrounded by the world’s biggest concentration of pingos, conical tundra frost heaves with ice cores. A town tour takes in the old log Anglican church where the altar cloth is sealskin and the collection plate is of wolverine fur. There is also an unusual community freezer carved out of the permafrost 10 metres underground where families store food for their dog teams.

I was invited to the home of James and Maureen Pokiak for a traditional Inuvialuit meal. While she lays out strips of smoked beluga whale that look like beef jerky, Lorraine explains she came north to Tuk to teach school for a year. "That was 28 years ago," she laughs. She married James, a traditional hunter and trapper who also leads polar bear hunting trips. Our multi-course meal includes smoked whitefish, bannock bread and beluga muktuk – cubes of skin and fat. "We like it with HP sauce," says Lorraine. We finish with a delicious caribou soup.

On the way to the airport I ask my driver to make a quick stop to complete a ritual that signals the official end to a Dempster drive. As a cold wind whips up whitecaps and sled dogs howl I strip off my shoes and socks, take a deep breath and very quickly dunk my toes into the icy waters of the Arctic Ocean.


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



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by Claude-Jean Harel

It is as though Alberta’s Canadian Badlands region was created to mystify visitors.

It takes time to take in the lay of the land when the land is not laid quite as neatly as what one is used to. They don’t call them Badlands for nothing.

I recently had the opportunity to spend a little quality time with some of the finest people in and around the Badlands at a tourism product development workshop in Drumheller.

Most of these folks spent all their life in southern Alberta. Some grew up here, left for a while to seek greener pastures and eventually came back. Others came from elsewhere—somehow they figured that this was the right place for them.

This part of the world goes against all design. It was carved by glacial forces that eventually yielded some of the best-known paleontological specimens in the world.

The geography of dinosaurs evidenced by remains of the Albertosaurus—the most common of the large carnivores found here—and the tamer Edmontosaurus, a large plant-eating, duck-billed dinosaur, attest to the particular sense of place inspired partly by both of members of this archaic duo. They do occupy choice spots in the Pantheon of the Cretacious.

The landscape itself defies description so much that you never know when prairie will yield to valleys, canyons, hoodoos or rivers.

Early settlers must have gone mad at times trying to figure out how to get across the Red Deer River. Building a bridge around every corner perhaps was the only logical way to render accessible this mauled terrain.

Equally daunting must have been the prevailing weather patterns in places like the Cypress Hills to the east.

This 20-mile wide plateau straddling the Alberta-Saskatchewan border over 80 miles in length is also Canada’s highest point between the Rockies and the Appalachians at 4,800 feet above sea level. This means that the climate is slightly moister up there and that lodgepole pine forests grow densely in the valleys. It is a rugged landscape.

Hardship was almost a way of life there at times. In 1906, a particularly nasty snowstorm buried cattle alive in places. Storms decimated about half of cattle herds in the region then.

Ranchers who graze their cattle in Cypress Hills Interprovincial Park today have a very simple ritual when they get ready to round up the cows and calves to wean them and organize the family reunion with the bulls. They grab a piece of bailing twine and tie on their hat with it, as the morning ride through pastures is sure to throw a few unexpected branches in their face.

By the time the cowboys bring back 100 or so cows and the matching calves that have agreed to come home that morning, they have been mostly galloping for seven hours. The horse needs a break and your legs feel like a ton of brick. It is time for a nap. I know… I tried it and I’ll do it again every chance I get.

These people who live in the Hills; these people who live in Brooks, Hanna and Medicine Hat; and these folks who look after the steam railway engine in Stettler all have in their head the collective wisdom of generations past, waiting to be shared with guests who dare go off the beaten track.

Funny how individual and personal stories are sometimes just waiting to be told. Their stewards just need a bit of a nudge.

Pat Mulgrew recently retired from a 31-year career as an educator with the Correctional Service of Canada. His last assignment was that of school principal at the Drumheller Institution, a medium-security facility for men. He basically looked after the needs of students finding themselves in somewhat special circumstances.

Pat loves people. He was ready for a change of career. He launched Wild West Jurassic Tours; got himself a 15-passenger van; developed some local itineraries and he is now taking guests around Horsethief Canyon, the Ghost Town of Wayne and across the Red Deer River on the Bleriot ferry. East Coulee, the Atlas Coal Mine and the famed Royal Tyrrell Museum are other stops along his route.

I couldn’t help notice the wooden tent signs with Pat’s colourful Wild West Jurassic Tours logo in the lobby of my hotel. I approached the front desk attendant and asked if she’d met him? “Yes, he is just the nicest guy and people seem to like his tours.”

Sometimes those who have the richest vision about life, adaptation, and communities are best appreciated when met in their natural environment. Pat’s is the Canadian Badlands. He brings to life his knowledge during his interpretation of life around these parts, while remaining true to himself. He is the “salt of the earth” type, whose greatest asset perhaps is his passion.



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Lingering in the warm mineral waters of Banff’s Upper Hot Springs pool, surrounded by jagged mountain peaks, is pure pleasure.

BY TAMARA NOWAKOWSKY

"There is a feeling of having caught Nature unawares at her work of creation. Here was purity and dignity and measureless peace." – Renowned 19th-century Canadian geologist A.P. Coleman on Banff, Alberta, and its mountain surroundings.

In 1884, as the railway that would join Canada from coast to coast was pushing steadily ahead, Canadian Pacific Railway workers William McCardell and Frank McCabe stumbled across a cave containing hot springs on the eastern slopes of Alberta’s Rocky Mountains. Until then, only the Stoney Indians had known about and used these waters, which they held to be sacred and infused with healing properties.

Looking into the waters nearly 120 years ago, the railway labourers saw opportunity reflected back. They wished to develop the hot springs as a tourist activity and destination, knowing that the much sought-after European market would especially appreciate the soothing properties of the warm mineral waters. It was a dispute over the ownership of these hot springs that prompted the creation of Banff National Park – Canada’s first national park – in 1885.

The springs are still rumoured to have healing properties. While, the Cave and Basin springs at the foot of Sulphur mountain are now a national historic site, today most visitors to the national park – whether they're here to enjoy outdoor adventures like mountain climbing or skiing, to attend corporate meetings, to participate in educational programs, or to wheel and deal at one of the local film, TV or book festivals – eventually make their way to the current hot springs site, Banff Upper Hot Springs.

Modern-day explorers experience the same benefits as their counterparts of the past, though it can be difficult to determine what plays the biggest role in the rumoured healing – the warm mineral waters, or the scenery. The stress relief gained by simply slowing down and spending time in the pool, surrounded by jagged mountain peaks, is invaluable. In a setting like Banff, soaking up the view as you soak in the waters, the pressures of life seem to evaporate. You'd have to go a long way to find anything like the restorative qualities of these hot springs, open to the scenery and the elements.

Banff Upper Hot Springs are open year-round, and if you enjoy one season, chances are you'll be captivated by the next. Perhaps the most incredible time to visit the springs is winter – the cool air and gently falling snowflakes melting on your face as you sit in the warm water adds yet another degree of charm.

Reverence for Banff's rich history is another of the park's attractive qualities. One of the most interesting aspects of the hot springs, for instance, is to be found not at the current springs, but at the original site. For a full experience that puts it all in perspective, visit Cave and Basin first before heading for Banff Upper Hot Springs.

At the Cave and Basin springs, which have been preserved as an interpretive centre, a short walk through a rocky tunnel leads into the earliest developed hot springs site. You can't soak in this water, and even dipping a finger into it is strongly discouraged, so as to safeguard the remaining habitat of the rare and threatened Banff Springs Snail, a tiny creature found nowhere else in the world. The endangered Banff Springs Snail (Physella johnsoni), which lives in five of Banff National Park’s natural hot springs, is found nowhere else in the world. The largest of these snails are about the size of an average small fingernail. They live in warm water, clinging to algae at the water’s surface. The Cave and Basin Hot Springs contains a protected pool for the snails because if people were to bathe in the water or merely dip their hands into it, the resultant waves would disturb the algae mats where the snails feed and lay eggs. Chemicals, deodorants, and insect repellents on people's skin also harm the snails and their habitat.

Outside the exhibit building, history comes alive. Stepping into the area of the reflecting pool and fountain in the former Bathing Pavilion is like stepping back in time. The open-roof structure, with stone arches and windows in the surrounding walls that look out onto the scenery, makes you yearn for the days of such beautiful architecture. Gazing at historic photos, you might find yourself straining to hear gleeful laughs from the past.

The more recent springs location is a short trip from the Cave and Basin site. The main building at Banff Upper Hot Springs was refurbished in 1995, in homage to its original 1932 appearance. Today the heritage bathhouse offers the kind of services modern travellers have come to expect, including interpretive exhibits, a restaurant and boutique, and the recently renovated Pleiades Massage and Spa. Staff at Pleaides use only handmade, all-natural products in their massages, facials, salt scrubs and other treatments.

When you finally immerse yourself in the hot springs, you'll discover that though the modern world is fast-paced, the mountains surrounding the site are ages old, and the experience of the waters is timeless.

A.P. Coleman's words still ring true in this little corner of the world. In large and traffic-heavy cities it might seem impossible, but in its development of Banff Upper Hot Springs, Parks Canada found a way to ensure that the purity, dignity and measureless peace Coleman spoke of nearly 120 years ago still exist today.


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



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A heady experience is in store for visitors who tour Quebec's cideries. In recent years artisan producers have resurrected the province's reputation for excellent ciders.

BY HUGO PARADIS

Quebecers have been drinking cider for generations. Popular in Brittany and Normandy, the apple-based beverage was first brought to these shores by Jacques Cartier, where the New France colonists promptly developed a taste for it.

In 1920, a bizarre oversight in the Commission des Liqueurs du Québec act of incorporation made it illegal to drink cider in the province. It wasn't legalized again until the 1970s, whereupon Quebecers enthusiastically resumed drinking the sparkling amber beverage – downing 52 million litres of it in 1974 alone.

To meet the huge demand, however, many producers began to sacrifice quality in favour of quantity. Soon they were turning out something that was cider in name only. Even in those rare cases where the taste was palatable, there were often side effects to contend with, including horrible headaches for anyone who strayed into overindulgence. A few years of furious production of such inferior-quality beverages effectively destroyed the Quebec cidermaking industry.

Then in the 1980s, a handful of apple aficionados embarked on a risky venture: to revive artisan cider production in Quebec by returning to the rules of the art of cidermaking. For instance, one of these dedicated souls, Michel Jodoin, learned champagne-fermentation principles on trips to Épernay in France and now applies them to his cidermaking, resulting in a unique technique dubbed "Méthode Jodoin."

For another cidermaker, Robert Demoy, originally from Brittany, Quebec is the promised land of cider in North America. The climate, he says, allows for production of fruitier, juicier and more fragrant apples. Demoy, who is also president of the Association des Cidriculteurs Artisans du Québec, believes that Quebec's exceptionally diverse terroirs, apples and climates add up to fantastic cidermaking potential. Both the range and quality of ciders produced in recent years appear to prove him right.

Bubbling Along

Today Quebec boasts about 30 small cideries, sprinkled throughout the Quebec City, Laurentians, Eastern Townships and Montérégie regions. The latter area is home to roughly half the province's artisan cidermakers.

In just a few scant years, Quebec producers have fashioned a broad variety of delicious ciders, whether sparkling or still, alcoholic or non-alcoholic, that have garnered countless accolades and awards.

A growing number of cideries are also excelling at making the exquisite treat that is ice cider. The production process is similar to that for making icewine, with the fruit picked only after the first autumn frost. Jodoin, meanwhile, turns out a surprising Quebecois calvados, Calijo, along with an apple eau-de-vie, Pom de Vie, that has a 41% alcohol content.

This new generation of artisan ciders is widely available across the province – in grocery stores, at the Société des Alcools du Québec, in many restaurants (particularly crêperies), and even on tap at trendy bars and clubs. Some producers, including Demoy and Jodoin, also export the nectar, chiefly to the United States.

Cider Tour

The best way to experience Quebec's array of cider flavours is to embark on a tour of cidermaking establishments, which follow the example of cideries in France by offering tastings to the public. At some places, the hospitality extends to fascinating tours of the facilities.

To further bolster cider's popularity, the Cider Route (Route des Cidres) was created in 1998. Unfurling through the heart of Montérégie, the region that hugs the south and west of the island of Montreal, this self-drive tour runs through villages like Rougemont, Mont-Saint-Hilaire, Saint-Paul-d’Abbotsford, Mont-Saint-Grégoire and Hemmingford, near the American border. A little to the east, enthusiasts can also visit four cideries in the neighbouring Eastern Townships region.

Lined with glorious landscapes, the Route des Cidres can be explored year-round. But it's at its best in spring (especially during apple-blossom season around mid-May), summer and autumn.

Herewith the stops along the route:

Montérégie

Cidrerie du Minot: 376 Chemin Covey-Hill, Hemmingford, (450) 247-3111 or www.duminot.com

La Face Cachée de la Pomme: 617 Route 202, Hemmingford, (450) 247-2899 or www.cidredeglace.com

Verger Henryville: 660 Route 133, Henryville, (450) 299-2733

Cidrerie Verger Léo Boutin: 710 de la Montagne, Mont-Saint-Grégoire, 1-888-346-3326/(450) 346-3326 or www.vergerboutin.com

Verger Cidrerie Denis Charbonneau: 575 de la Montagne, Mont-Saint-Grégoire, (450) 347-9184 or www.vergersdc.qc.ca

Clos de la Montagne: 330 Rang de la Montagne, Mont-Saint-Grégoire, (450) 358-4868

Au Pavillon de la Pomme: 1130 Boulevard Laurier, Mont-Saint-Hilaire, (450) 464-2654 or www.pavillondelapomme.com

Cidrerie du Verger Gaston: 1074 Chemin de la Montagne, Mont-Saint-Hilaire, (450) 464-3455

Les Vergers Petit et Fils: 1020 Chemin de la Montagne, Mont-Saint-Hilaire, (450) 467-9926

Cidrerie D.R. Alix: 169 Rang de la Montagne, Rougemont, (450) 469-3004

Cidrerie Michel Jodoin: 1130 Rang de la Petite-Caroline, Rougemont, 1-888-469-2676/(450) 469-2676 or www.cidrerie-michel-jodoin.qc.ca

La Cidrerie du Village: 509 Rue Principale, Rougemont, (450) 469-3945 or www.lacidrerieduvillage.qc.ca

De Lavoie Poitevin: 100 de la Montagne, Rougemont, (450) 469-3894

Clos Saint-Denis, 1149 Chemin des Patriotes, Saint-Denis-sur-Richelieu, (450) 787-3766 or www.pommedeglace.com

Cidrerie Coteau Saint-Jacques: 995 Grand-Rang Saint-Charles, Saint-Paul-d’Abbotsford, (450) 379-9732

Verger Cidrerie Larivière, 1188 Rang 8, Saint-Théodore-d’Acton, (450) 546-3411 or www.clementlariviere.com

Eastern Townships

Domaine Pinnacle: 150 Chemin Richford, Frelighsburg, (450) 298-1222 or www.icecider.com

Cidrerie Fleurs de Pommiers: 1047 Route 202, Dunham, (450) 295-2223

Les Petits Fruits Léger, 331 Chemin Brome, Lac Brome, 1-877-360-2036/(450) 534-2753 or www.petits-fruits-leger.com

Vignoble Les Blancs Côteaux, 1046 Chemin Bruce, Route 202, Dunham, (450) 295-3503 or www.vignerons-du-quebec.com


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



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B.C.’s King Pacific Lodge ranks among the world’s best wilderness resorts. Fantastic fishing and kayaking are just some of the adventures awaiting fly-in visitors. Then there’s dining and the spa…

BY JUDY LEES

“The fish are skittish today,” remarks our guide as we troll peacefully for elusive salmon. Enjoying our wilderness setting of shorelines spangled in golden-green mosses and silvery lichen backed by thick copses of evergreens, I’m not concerned about catching fish. However, I do wonder about Ronne Ludvigson’s remark.

“There’s a couple of humpback whales in these waters and it affects the fishing,” explains the young but well-experienced guide. Within minutes, two crusty giants surface so close to our boat that I could count the dozens of barnacles attached to their massive backs. Their breach from the chilly Pacific causes waves that rock us like a toy boat in a bathtub and I realize that I’m holding my breath in wonderment.

This sublime moment in nature is thanks to King Pacific Lodge. Snugged into British Columbia’s Barnard Harbour on Princess Royal Island, this fly-in wilderness resort is located on the coastal fringe of the 3.2 million hectare (eight million acre) Great Bear Rainforest. It is lauded by environmentalists – David Suzuki and Robert Kennedy, Jr. have visited – as being among the world’s last unspoiled rainforest. Over the next few days I will thrill at dolphins performing graceful loops, see a wolf chase a deer into the water, catch a glimpse of a black bear on a windswept beach, eyeball harbour seals as they loll on a rocky islet and watch an eagle snatch a fish from just beside our boat. Although I don’t see the unique white Kermode bear (known as the legendary ‘Spirit Bear’), about two dozen of them live on Princess Royal Island: so I keep a watchful eye. It’s little wonder that Outdoor Magazine, the bible for outdoor aficionados, ranks King Pacific among the world’s top ten wilderness resorts.

As well as opportunities to view wildlife and fish salmon-rich waters, the 17-room lodge offers fly fishing, hiking, kayaking and helicopter excursions for sightseeing (one is to Kootz Valley, a grizzly bear habitat) and back-country hiking and fishing. The appeal of the wilderness is matched by the eco-friendly lodge where a staff of 25 pamper guests. It’s no surprise that plaudits in the guest book sing praises from the likes of royalty and movie stars – Kevin Costner recently caught a big fish. The gleaming Red Cedar lodge exudes a comfy elegance with sweeping windows that showcase the gorgeous deep blue of the Pacific – a hue only viewed in the north – backed by moody, deep greens of the thick forest. There are many perks – the sumptuous meals and a blissful massage to end the day, to name a couple.

Guests arrive by float plane from Prince Rupert. My diverse group of nine ranged from an interior decorator from Vancouver seeking R&R to honeymooners from Hong Kong. I think it’s the surroundings – a magical combination of wilderness and elegance – that instantly bonded us. It was as though we had been friends for years as we shared outdoor activities, played fun tournaments in the lodge’s game room and lounged at day’s end. Each day was an adventure and each evening, we relived it with newfound friends.

One morning, six of us kayaked through inlets that appeared untouched. Cherishing the silence of the north, we dipped paddles and took pleasure in the fact that there were no signs of civilization except our fellow kayakers. Another day, we boarded the 10-metre Commander for an hour’s trip to Wolf Track Beach on Campania Island. The silvery sanded beach and emerald waters could easily be in the Caribbean except for the backdrop of scrubby forest and mountain peaks. “Wow,” exclaimed Susan, a doctor from New Brunswick, “This part of the world really delivers when it comes to scenery.”

Six of us and a guide spent the day hiking and kayaking. We paddled McMicking Inlet delighting in the harlequin ducks, eagles, seals and sea lions that took little notice of us. Later, we hiked to take in panoramic views. There was one intrusion on the wild landscape as a huge cruise ship entered a nearby channel: we all groaned in unison.

Another day, three of us joined Carl Healy of Lakelse Air Helicopters. This pilot loves his job as he showcases some of the world’s best scenery from the perspective of an eagle. Apparently we were a typical audience as we “ooohed” and “aaahed” our way above the lonely landscape.

Of course, we all fished. And even Madeline Eng and I, both greenhorn anglers, landed salmon. At last I understand the Zen of fishing: hours of boredom capped by 15 minutes of wild exhilaration as you reel in a 25-pounder. Amazingly, our honeymoon couple had a double hit: they snared big Chinook simultaneously. “Have a great life, kids!” we cheered. “It doesn’t get any better than this.”


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



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Golf connoisseurs turn to Cape Breton Island to fulfill duffer dreams, and imbibe plenty of fun en route, not to mention single malt elixir.

BY IAN CRUICKSHANK

When golfers start putting together their ultimate places-to-play list, Pebble Beach and the Old Course at St. Andrews in Scotland always top the itinerary.

However, while Pebble Beach is officially a resort course, its US green fees will send you to the bank for second mortgage. And the Old Course at St. Andrews's is so backed up with reservations that you are more likely to see your tech stocks rebound before getting the nod to tee it up at the Scottish classic.

That is why golfing connoisseurs are turning to the Cabot Trail on Cape Breton Island to fulfill their golfing dreams. Wedged between the Gulf of St. Lawrence and the Atlantic Ocean off the northern edge of Nova Scotia, Cape Breton Island is drop-dead gorgeous. It has a coastline dotted with tiny fishing villages and an interior of sweeping mountain vistas and the majestic Bras d'Or Lakes, the largest salt-water body of water in North America. Sprinkled across this landscape are four terrific courses, all open to the public and all featuring inexpensive green fees. Even better, Highlands Links, which clings to the rocks above Ingonish Beach on the northeast coast, is ranked as the number one course in Canada and in the top 100 in the entire golfing
kingdom.

Tying these courses together is the Cabot Trail, a 303 kilometre (187 mile) ribbon of highway that cuts through the mountains and past the water.

Any trip to Cape Breton should begin in the south end of the island at the Dundee Resort and Golf Club. The course snakes up the side of South Mountain, through the pines, with views of the Bras d'Or Lakes on almost every hole. But beware the pretty post card scenery on the 16th hole, a 153-yard par three tacked on to the side of the mountain. The tee is perched 35 metres
above the green with no fairway in between, just a gully of gnarly rough. Besides golf, the family run resort also includes tennis, kayaking and hiking but the real fun takes place after dinner when the staff bring out the fiddles and teach guests how to step dance.

About 45 minutes up the road is the village of Baddeck, once a ship-building centre, now known as a holiday spot and the hub of the Cabot Trail. It is also the site of Beinn Bhreagh, Alexander Graham Bell's 243-hectare estate. Bell and his wife Mabel, first arrived in Cape Breton in 1885 on holiday and were immediately smitten with the surroundings. "I have traveled around the
globe. I have seen the Canadian and American Rockies, the Andes and the Alps and the Highlands of Scotland but for simple beauty, Cape Breton rivals them all," declared the inventor of the telephone.

There is a terrific museum in Baddeck devoted to Bell's life and achievements that besides the telephone included an iron lung, the hydrofoil and one of the first airplanes. The Bells spent 35 summers at their estate (their descendants still own the property) and Alexander and Mabel are buried on top of the local mountain.

The Bell Bay Golf Course sits just five minutes away from the centre of the village and faces the Bras d'Ors and Beinn Bhreagh. Designed by Toronto architect Tom McBroom, who a few years earlier kick-started the East Coast golf boom with his Crowbush Cove design in Prince Edward Island, Bell Bay opened in the fall of 1997 and was named the best new course in Canada. Its
final four holes are spectacular.

"Visually, the strongest holes at Bell Bay are 15 to 18. The course ends with a real crack," says Mr. McBroom. The view from the back of the 18th tee looks over the white, clapboard homes of Baddeck and out to the red and white lighthouse on Kidston Island which for the last 100 years has guided the Bras d'Or boats home to safety.

From Baddeck, the Cabot Trail loops towards the northwest coast of the island and up to Le Portage Golf Club at Cheticamp. Along the way, it's worth making a short detour outside Inverness to stop at the Glenora Distillery. It is the only single malt distillery in all of North America and offers daily tours on how the golden elixir is made.

Cheticamp is an Acadian village, which means that its first language is French and the attitude is pure joie de vivre. Le Portage Golf Club is set on a rise, at the foot of the Highlands and above the Cheticamp harbour where whale watching tours into the Gulf of St. Lawrence kick-off.

On the hour and a half drive from Cheticamp to Ingonish Beach, the Trail rises and dips through the folds of the hills until finally reaching the East Coast and Highlands Links. The course was designed by Stanley Thompson, Canada's most important golf architect, over 60 years ago. Thompson, who was responsible for the mountain classics at Jasper and Banff in the Rockies,
wandered through the bush armed with a sketchpad and flask before emerging with the inspired routing of Highlands Links. It twists and swoops over the cliffs, through the forest, past the Clyburn River and always above the cove where the local fishermen tend their lobster traps. Those same lobsters will be served up for dinner at the neighbouring Keltic Lodge.

At least once during the round, a bald eagle will swoop across the sky and golfers will wonder at least half a dozen times why it has taken them so long to make the pilgrimage to the Cabot Trail


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



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Aside from music, singer-songwriter Daniel Lavoie, master harmonica player Gérald Laroche and two members of Hart Rouge have something else in common - they all grew up on the Prairies. To this day, their music offers inspiring impressions of their native land: its constant wind, vast emptiness, immense sky and unbridled freedom.

BY MARIO PROULX

Crisscrossing Canada recently to prepare a series of radio shows that will recount the nation's story in words and song, I was struck by how profoundly performers are influenced by their geographical roots. This seems to be particularly true of singers and musicians who were raised on the Prairies. Daniel Lavoie and Gérald Laroche, who grew up in Manitoba, and siblings Paul and Suzanne Campagne of the band Hart Rouge, who come from Saskatchewan, all spoke to me of the endless prairie and big sky of their childhoods, and of how that sense of immense space and isolation helped foster their creativity.

Driving across the Prairies for the first time, you begin to see what they mean. Distances are enormous (on Highway 6 outside Winnipeg, a sign announces: Flin Flon, 777 kilometres), the road is arrow-straight and the landscape pancake-flat for hundreds of kilometres. The whole experience can be oddly soothing. There are no trees and few other vehicles. You keep moving towards an imaginary horizon line. Yet sometimes you feel as if you've stopped moving, that time itself has come to a halt.

Blowing in the Wind

Singer Daniel Lavoie, whose albums and starring roles in the musicals Notre-Dame de Paris and Le Petit Prince propelled him to international celebrity, was born and raised in the remote Manitoba village of Dunrae. He remembers the incessant wind, cooling in summer but frigid in winter, and the sky. Lots of sky.

"The prairie is like the ocean, only upside-down, because everything happens in the sky," he said. "The prairie is empty, but the sky is incredibly full. In fact that's what I like about the Prairies - you forget about the ground, you only see the sky." Yet, Lavoie added, the prairie is also a place of secrets. "My favourite childhood memories are of all the nooks and crannies and recesses and hidden places that you don't see when you look out at the horizon. But if you look closely, there are small ravines everywhere, small gullies and valleys where you can hide, where there are all sorts of rabbits, hares, plants and birds. That's what I loved most about the Prairies as a child - disappearing into its ravines and gullies."

Or as Lavoie's song Jour de Plaine puts it, albeit loosely translated:
There are days on the prairie when you see as far as the ocean
There are days on the prairie when you see past the ends of the Earth.

Métis Heritage

But Manitoba isn't just prairie. It's also a land of some 100,000 lakes, ranging in size from small pockets of water to inland seas. Back in the fur-trading era, French voyageurs came here in large numbers to hunt and to trade with First Nations peoples. They married Ojibway, Cree and Sauteux women and raised families, giving rise to the Métis nation, who in the 19th century accounted for the largest proportion of the population on the Prairies. The darkest chapter in their history came when the Métis fought unsuccessfully under Louis Riel to protect their lands from federal forces. Riel was then hanged on November 16, 1885.

Today the Métis have regained a sense of pride in their culture and heritage. Gifted musician and storyteller Gérald Laroche, whose ancestors came to Canada with Jacques Cartier and Samuel de Champlain, often talks in concert about his Métis roots. The harmonica maestro owns and plays more than 60 harmonicas, along with the penny whistle, the Indian mouth bow, fiddle bow, jaw harp and other percussion instruments. Laroche tours Canada and Europe, playing his unique music and telling stories and legends. The French in particular are fascinated by the soundscapes he creates to evoke the Prairies, complete with the whistle of the north wind, the cry of an eagle and the tempo of time marching on.

"I had incredible freedom in my youth, running around the forests, lakes and rivers of northern Manitoba," Laroche recalled. "That spirit was passed down to me from my parents and grandparents. The prairie is a place of freedom. You have all the space you need, to reflect and to be creative. We have the same spirit of adventure, of freedom, that both our French and First Nations ancestors had. I travel all over the world, but I always have to come back to the Prairies. It's in my blood."

Part of one of Laroche’s Métis tales goes:
Every secret has a story
Every story has a dance
Every dance has an ending
Every ending has a beginning.

Wide-Open Spaces

After visiting Winnipeg and its French Quarter, St. Boniface, to tour forts and museums that depict early settlement, the childhood home of author Gabrielle Roy and sites related to Louis Riel, I drove on to Saskatchewan, home to the Campagne family.

Paul and Suzanne Campagne are members of the band Hart Rouge, and the spirit of their prairie origins flows through the group's recent country-folk albums. Descended from immigrants who came from Normandy in 1905, the Campagnes grew up in Willow Bunch, a small French-speaking community in south-central Saskatchewan, just 50 kilometres from the Montana border. Willow Bunch was founded by the Métis and settled by newcomers from Belgium, Acadia, Quebec and Brittany.

Paul and Suzanne have lived in Montreal for years, but the Prairies still lie in their hearts. "Our memories are of wide-open spaces and sunsets over fields of wheat, barley and mustard," says Suzanne. "It's a space that's very much alive. The sound of the wind is constant. And the stars at night - it's as if there are three times as many stars as anywhere else in the world. We remember infinity, and freedom. But you have to be born there - otherwise it seems so empty."

So empty that you can pick out a village 100 kilometres away by the glow of its lights reflected against the night sky. So infinite that neighbouring farms are often 15 kilometres apart. Out on the prairie, everything is slower, longer, further...


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



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Visiting the UNESCO World Heritage site – with five of North America’s highest mountains, the most extensive icefields outside the polar regions, mountain lakes, alpine meadows, tundra and swift cold rivers – is easier thanks to cruisetours and local operators.

BY PATRICK DINEEN

Tucked into the southwest corner of Yukon with massive Mount Logan standing guard is a Canadian treasure. Named a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1979, Kluane National Park and Reserve is an area of pristine wilderness and great beauty, which few Canadians have ever seen.

But this region – with five of North America’s seven highest mountains, the most extensive icefields outside the polar regions, mountain lakes, alpine meadows, tundra and swift cold rivers – has attracted the attention of a major travel company which will make it much easier for North Americans to experience this rugged part of Canada.

Seattle-based Holland America Line has been looking for new tours to draw a younger and more active clientele to its Alaska cruises. In the past, the company has concentrated on Dawson City and the history of the Klondike Gold Rush on its cruisetours in Yukon. But Holland America executives were so captivated by the beauty of Kluane that it is being added to its cruisetour lineup in 2003. Parks Canada has created an exclusive program of guided hikes for Holland America passengers.

The cruise line will have seven ships sailing to Alaska in the summer of 2003, six from Vancouver and one from Seattle, making it a convenient way for both Canadian and Americans to explore one of the last frontiers on the continent.

Excursions in Kluane include a strenuous, full-day guided hike to the top of King's Throne for lunch and views of Mount Kennedy, Kathleen Lake and Shakwak Valley. There is also a full-day moderate guided trek through Alsek Valley bear country on foot or mountain bike with lunch overlooking the Alsek River. A full-day rafting expedition on the Tatshenshini River passes through a canyon with 500-foot walls. After lunch, passengers run the Boulder Garden and Twin Holes rapids.

For those who want a more leisurely exploration of Kluane, there is a stroll with a Parks Canada interpreter following the forested Dezadeash River Trail, which is full of birdlife, for views of the Auriol mountain range. After lunch there is an easy walk on the wheelchair accessible Kathleen Lake trail. Flightseeing excursions are also offered deep into Kluane to see Canada's highest mountain, Mount Logan, and the world's largest non-polar icefield. This tour also includes the Kathleen Lake trail.

But you don't have to be a cruise passenger to experience Kluane, part of a vast wilderness that has been recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage Site along with adjoining St. Elias Park and Glacier Bay National Park in Alaska and the Tatshenshini-Alsek Wilderness Park in British Columbia.

Activities include not only hiking and guided walks but also flying over the Icefield ranges and rafting on the Alsek River in addition to viewing wildlife and dozens of bird species. The climate of Kluane is influenced by both the warmer and damper Pacific air masses as well as the colder and drier Arctic ones giving the region one of the greatest diversity of plants and wildlife in northern Canada. The Dall sheep is Kluane's most abundant large mammal and visitors often see them foraging on the slopes of Sheep Mountain in the spring, fall and winter. But there are also mountain goats living along rocky cliffs and ledges in the south and a small herd of caribou which regularly wanders through the Duke River area. North America's largest subspecies of moose also range through Kluane National Park & Reserve.

But the animal most visitors to the North want to see is a bear and Kluane has populations of grizzly bears that move between alpine meadow and valley during different times of the year. Black bears are common and usually found feeding in forested areas of the park. Wolves move in and out of Kluane but a variety of smaller mammals make their homes in this wilderness including wolverine, muskrat, mink, marmot, red fox, lynx, otter, coyote, beaver, snowshoe hare and arctic ground squirrel.

The southwestern Yukon is also a paradise for birdwatchers with at least 150 species counted in Kluane National Park & Reserve and, of these, 118 nest in the park. On a spring day, sightings could include varied thrushes, yellow-rumped warblers and mountain bluebirds. With small mammals in abundance, the park is also a perfect hunting ground for birds of prey from the speedy falcon to the majestic bald and golden eagles.

Plant life is just as diverse with much of the lower valleys and slopes covered by a forest of white spruce, aspen and balsam poplar. The treeline is at 1,050 to 1,200 metres, but during the summer months the higher elevations are ablaze with colours with over 200 varieties of alpine flowers and plants making use of the long, long days of the far northern regions.


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



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Nunavut is a land of breathtaking scenery with a promise of adventure, says Margo Pfeiff in this essential primer to Canada’s newest Territory.

BY MARGO PFEIFF

It was a pitch black mid-winter evening in Cape Dorset when a knock came at my hotel room door. Outside stood a young Inuit man in a voluminous parka. "Wanna buy a carving?" he asked quietly, reaching into a pocket and pulling out a soapstone kayak complete with a miniature hunter holding an ivory harpoon. I handed over the $80 he asked for and was given a shy toothless smile before he vanished into the Arctic night.

Before I landed on Iqaluit's icy runway when I first went north in 1990 I had already lost my heart to this stark landscape. From 2,000 metres up, icebergs littered an inky Arctic Ocean and the tundra was polka dotted with pothole lakes shimmering in blues from turquoise to indigo. And once I'd spent time with the Inuit I was smitten by their unpretentiousness, sense of humour and their generosity with the shank of caribou that squats on every home's kitchen counter.

Nunavut – “ our land” in Inuktitut – was born on April 1, 1999. It was the first time since 1949 when Newfoundland joined Confederation Canadian that map makers had been sent back to the drawing board to change the boundaries of our country. Nunavut covers one-fifth of Canada's land area, 1.99 million square kilometres, a vast area where lives are often still lived according to time-tables thousands of years old.

Iqaluit, with a population of 6,000, has been booming since it became Nunavut's capital. By far the biggest community, it is a dusty frontier town with the territory's only hospital, law courts, banks, jail, licensed restaurants and movie theatre. The 28 "settlements" scattered throughout the territory are accessible only by boat, plane, snowmobile or dogsled. Outnumbered nearly 30 to 1 by caribou, Nunavut's total population of 28,000 could easily fit into an average sized sports stadium, a statistically solitary .01 persons per square kilometre.

The waterfront Unikkaarvik Visitors Centre shares a building with the town library, a good source of polar books. The Centre has maps and knowledgeable staff who can plan anything from a walking tour of Iqaluit to a North Pole expedition. Nearby, the Nunatta Sunakkutaangit Museum is housed in a renovated Hudson's Bay Company trading post building. It has an excellent collection of artifacts including a sealskin kayak and displays of Inuit artwork from various communities. Inuit art from throughout the north – including carvings from internationally renowned Cape Dorset and prints and tapestries from Pangnirtung – can be purchased at galleries and shops around town.

Just walking around Iqaluit is a cultural experience. In summer, carvers work soapstone outside and in winter women still dress in traditional amoutiq jackets with babies tucked into the gaping hoods. Everyone is free to attend service at the igloo-shaped Anglican church which features an altar cross made of two narwhal tusks. Hymns are sung in Inuktitut. The Northern Store, formerly the Hudson’s Bay Company, looks like any modern grocery except for the frozen goods section with its chunks of narwhal muktuk, Arctic Char sausages, musk ox and caribou.

Most of Nunavut's far-flung settlements are no bigger than a couple of hundred people. Life here is quieter and more traditional than in Iqaluit. Most folks hunt and fish to supplement their food supply and it's common for entire families to head out "on the land" to camp for the summer. But even here pick-up trucks, snowmobiles, ATV's and outboards have replaced dog sleds and kayaks.

I rarely linger in the settlements. For me they are jumping off points for the wilderness, Nunavut's main attraction. The territory has three national parks and several Territorial parks, but even in the hamlets the wilderness is never far away and it's easy to head out for a stroll. Kayaking is popular in Pond Inlet near Nunavut's newest national park, Sirmilik. One summer I spent a week poking along the coast near Pond, paddling around icebergs drifting through Lancaster Sound, listening to the dripping of water echoing in their wave-sculpted caves.

The short summers, when snow disappears and temperatures nudge above freezing, are the time for whale watching out of Clyde River or hiking anywhere in the territory. One of Nunavut's most spectacular hikes through a landscape of fjords and jagged peaks in Auyuittuq National Park starts a short boat ride from Pangnirtung, a scenic Southern Baffin community. There is also canoeing down the Soper River through Katannalik Territorial Park near Iqaluit, which I did several years ago. Wildflowers carpeted valleys where caribou and Arctic hare grazed. We finished up our trip on the coast in the community of Kimmurut, known for its soapstone carvers.

Spring is lovely in the north when daylight approaches 24 hours and temperatures rise enough for comfortable dog-sledding; single and multi-day trips are possible right out of Iqaluit. It's also the season to head to the floe edge, particularly at the northern end of Baffin Island. When the frozen sea ice first breaks up narwhal and beluga whales arrive to feed in the open leads, which also attract millions of seabirds. A small group of us headed out of Arctic Bay on sleds pulled by snowmobiles to camp on the ice and view wildlife on this northern version of a safari.

For those who love a solitary landscape and a rich culture, the pull of Nunavut is strong and the memories linger. I remember setting off hiking through Ellesmere National Park – 700 kilometres from the North Pole – in July through knee deep wildflowers with butterflies fluttering all around. Then there was the nest I came across of baby snowy owls in the Belcher Islands, and the mid-winter night in Hall Beach when the Northern Lights shimmered red and green with such brilliance that I swore I could hear them crackle.

And I'll never forget a young Inuit girl I met in Resolute who pointed three inches above the top of the television screen that was broadcasting the weather report. "I live up here," she proudly told me, "on a part of the map you can't see." "Off the map" neatly sums up Nunavut, a land of breathtaking scenery with a promise of adventure.


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



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Steeltown has segued from gritty to pretty. Just look beyond the heights of the Skyway Bridge for a wealth of eco-trails and conservation areas offering biking, birding, boating and more.

BY JOHN KERNAGHAN

The view of Hamilton most widely thought to represent the city is the panorama from the Skyway Bridge as it passes over Burlington Bay. And the stark majesty of that industrial front yard, with its steel mills and attendant industry, scarcely suggests an outdoor mecca.

It is in fact a narrow look. Sometime over the past two decades, Hamilton went from gritty to pretty. You just can't see it as you hurtle across the heights of the bridge.

It's there, though, in a very high ratio of conservation areas and recreational lands that offer hiking, biking, in-line skating, swimming, boating, birding and fishing, as well as many winter sports opportunities. And Hamilton may just be Canada's capital of waterfalls, with 34 documented falls amongst the many streams that tumble down the Niagara Escarpment.

"There's no chart comparing percentages of recreational land for cities in Canada, but we believe we rank very high," says Garnet Cowsill of the Hamilton Conservation Authority (HCA). "We believe we compare very favourably with other cities in terms of open space.” In and around Hamilton, some 6,353 hectares of publicly owned lands, or 14 per cent of a watershed area with a land component of 280 square kilometres, are devoted to an array of recreational activities.

One of the newest additions is almost right under the Skyway Bridge. The Beach Strip Trail, a 10-kilometre paved pathway along Lake Ontario that won back public access to the lake, was introduced in May. For some of its distance it covers the former Beach Strip Promenade, a popular walkway back when the area was a summer holiday retreat in the late 1800s and early 1900s. At Confederation Park, the Beach Strip Trail also leads to Wild Waterworks, boasting slides, a wave pool, restaurants, batting cages, go-karts and fine picnic areas as well as the lakefront promenade. The new trail came three years after the opening of the Hamilton Harbour Waterfront Trail, a 10-kilometre magnet on the city's west harbourfront for walkers and joggers.

Dozens more trails wind through several conservation areas. Then there's the storied Bruce Trail, which bisects the city along the Niagara Escarpment. The uninterrupted footpath follows the escarpment from Queenston Heights near Niagara Falls to Tobermory on Lake Huron.

More paths are being added. The Lafarge 2000 Trail, for instance, is one of the HCA's two Millennium projects. The 22-kilometre route in suburban Flamborough will link conservation areas and ultimately join up with the Hamilton Harbour and Lake Ontario Waterfront trails. The other Millennium project, the 11.5-kilometre Dofasco 2000 Trail, will connect the Devil's Punch Bowl Conservation Area with the Vinemount Wetlands and the Bruce Trail, in time continuing to a conservation area on Lake Ontario.

A cycling favourite is the Hamilton to Brantford Rail Trail, a 32-kilometre multi-use trail that runs from west Hamilton to Brantford. Canada's first fully developed, multi-use interurban trail system, it's also part of the Trans Canada Trail network. Links to Paris and Cambridge extend the trail to 80 kilometres. In fact the old rail bed and good trails between Paris and the Hamilton suburb of Ancaster has sparked an annual cycling event called the Paris to Ancaster classic, a 60-kilometre test of endurance which often draws some of Canada's best riders. The 2003 event, which attracted about 1,000 cyclists, was won by recent Commonwealth Games silver medallists Susan Palmer-Komar and Seamus McGrath.

There are also 40 kilometres of trails in the Dundas Valley Conservation Area and 10-kilometre systems at both the Valens and Christie Lake conservation areas. They're groomed for cross-country skiing in winter, too. Valens also offers clean, safe swimming in chlorinated waters separated from the rest of the lake by a special screen. You can camp there year round as well, at campsites nestled in a pine and spruce forest, with good access to modern washrooms and showers (reservations are recommended).

The Christie Lake Conservation Area also offers clean, safe swimming in an idyllic natural setting. Like Valens, it has a chlorinated beach area separated from the rest of the lake by a screen. Nine ponds in the conservation area are stocked with rainbow trout from late April to early July, but you can fish right into September.

Meantime at Fifty Point Conservation Area, anglers can fish for salmon in Lake Ontario ― salmon charters are available at the marina ― or catch rainbow trout and bass in the stocked pond. Fifty Point also boasts one of the warmest and cleanest beaches on Lake Ontario.

Boating is available at the Valens, Christie Lake and Fifty Point conservation areas. Christie Lake and Valens rent canoes, paddleboats and HydroBikes and offer boat launch areas as well, though only electric-powered boats are permitted. Over at Fifty Point, the full-service marina is one of the best on western Lake Ontario, complete with a double boat launch and docking space for 312 craft.

For winter sports, the Dundas Valley Conservation Area is a mecca for cross-country skiers; the valley's 40-kilometre trail system offers a challenging mix of terrain for experienced skiers. Those looking for more moderate conditions can try the smooth, level surface of the Hamilton-Brantford Rail Trail, which runs through the valley.

Birding is another popular activity found at 23 locations in and around Hamilton. The Beamer Memorial Conservation Area offers peeks at migrating hawks, falcons, and eagles from March to early May, particularly on sunny days with southeast winds. Luther Marsh, meantime, boasts various waterfowl, ospreys, sandhill cranes and cormorants in spring and summer. And right in the city, the Red Hill Valley provides viewing of long-eared owls and finches in winter and breeding Carolinian zone songbirds in spring and summer.

All in all, Hamilton's rich outdoor opportunities are beginning to change people's perspective of the old industrial city.


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



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When Al "Scarface" Capone parlayed Moose Jaw into "Sin City of the north," who would have imagined that his infamous turf – the underground tunnels excavated by Chinese railway workers – would be Saskatchewan’s biggest attraction even a century after being built?

BY DONALD TELFER

The boy tore across the street, flew down a flight a stairs, rapped on a door and shouted the alarm: "Storm tonight!"

Spreading faster than a prairie fire, "storm tonight" was the warning that the monthly raid was imminent, an alert to hide the cards, ditch the liquor and round up the women from the red-light district on River Street.

Just 11 years old in 1921, the enterprising Laurence "Moon" Mullins had established a newspaper stand next to Woolworth's at the corner of Main and River streets. The police chief, Walter P. Johnson, would ride up on his horse, and as Mullins stroked his muzzle, the chief would lean over in the saddle and whisper that there would be a storm that night.

"Johnson was a crook," Mullins said, "but he was a nice man to us." Johnson ran Moose Jaw as his pocket fiefdom from 1905 through 1927. While he kept the town free of major crime, he amassed the spoils of fees from con artists, recycled confiscated bootleg liquor, and collaborated with an underground opium and gambling outfit. The playground for Regina playboys and passengers killing time between trains, Moose Jaw became a hideout for American gangsters on the run and a headquarters for distilling, bootlegging and rum-running rings to the U.S.

Al "Scarface" Capone was a regular visitor to Moose Jaw during the Roaring Twenties. When the heat was too hot in Chicago, he found safety at the end of the rail line in "Little Chicago." Today, Capone, his sidekick Diamond Jim Brady and the notoriety of Moose Jaw's past are recreated by the cast of "Tunnels of Moose Jaw" tours, in which the actors dramatize the Roaring Twenties in the underground network of vaults, murky cellars and hidden doors.

Built in the early 20th century, at a time when all buildings in central Moose Jaw were heated by steam controlled by underground boilers, the tunnels are comprised of interconnecting basements that originated at the Canadian Pacific railway station and branched out to the power plant, hotels and restaurants. The tunnels were dug by Chinese immigrants to allow steam engineers easier access to boilers on cold winter nights.

Near the entrance to the tunnels is a giant mural called Towns Afire! One of dozens of colourful murals scattered throughout the city, it depicts the tragic years in the 1890s when much of downtown Moose Jaw was razed by fire. After the city decreed that public buildings be made of brick, stone or concrete, many fine landmarks were constructed, including the grand beaux arts-style City Hall, built originally as a post office.

The pride of Moose Jaw now is Temple Gardens Mineral Spa. Sitting atop mineral-rich water drawn from ancient seabeds, Temple Gardens is a short walk from the spot where a part of Main Street collapsed in the 1970s, revealing the existence of the long-denied tunnels.

"I always said that a truck would break through," Mullins said, laughing, "and it did!"


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



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BY CLAUDE-JEAN HAREL

Every nomad needs an oasis at some point along his or her journey.

Amy and Tony Raposo are the keepers of one such oasis in Barrie, Ontario.

Their Barrie KOA is a small world in itself: 150 sites, 2 cottages, 15 cabins over 60 lush acres in a pine-tree setting dotted with two heated pools.

What makes this KOA one of Central Ontario's best-kept vacationing secrets is likely the personal touch and love invested by Amy, Tony and their family in this place they call home.

“In 1985, I was wrapping up my studies in recreation at the University of Waterloo,” recalls Amy. “Tony and I were planning on getting married. He was farming at the time. I come from a family of five children, all running their own businesses. My father suggested we combine my recreation skills and experience — I had worked at a residential camp before — with Tony’s farming skills.”

Amy’s father was familiar with KOAs. The family had stayed at KOAs before. They lived south of Barrie and noticed this campground for sale in September of 1985.

“We did a handshake deal with the owners of the campground in January of 1986. I had yet to graduate in May. From then on, it went fast. Tony moved from home to the campground. My father — being the traditional man that he was — suggested that I commute back and forth to the campground initially.”

Tony and Amy were married on Saturday July 5, 1986.

“I remember going to work the next day to pick up garbage at the campground in my going away dress. We were 21 and 22 at the time. Today people say that when you have lasted 20 years in the business, you are fossils. Average KOA franchisee life expectancy is about seven years. When we went to KOA University in Billings, Montana to learn how to run a campground, we didn’t know anything. People told us we wouldn’t last.”

Nearly 20 years later, not only have Amy and Tony outlived all predictions; they now look after a thriving establishment that is consistently recognized as a Gold rated campground within the KOA system; was named KOA Franchisee of the Year 2001 and was the recipient of a 2004 KOA President's Award.

“We have three children aged 16, 14 and 9 that were raised at the campground. I love the freedom this lifestyle allows us. We all work hard during camping season but we have the winters to spend time together as a family. The opportunity to raise your children where you work and the independence that comes with owning your own business are priceless.”

Amy is obviously at peace with her career choice.

“We love the outdoors. When your customers are camping, you are essentially dealing with people who are happy and on vacation. We are in the experience business, in the making memories business — in the business of joy, really.”

Amy Raposo points out that there are not many bingo halls where you can take a four-year-old, that come with crayons for them to play with.

“Lately, we have buying these giant games like snakes and ladders with oversized dices that children can play with. We diversify our activities and create themes around things like chicken. We have Zany Chicken games; we’ll make chicken fingers and chicken themed movies available.”

Because Amy and Tony liked pizza so much and the only way to get it was to have it delivered, they actually launched their own Bando’s homemade pizzeria right on the campground.

“We are getting a lot of positive feedback for these initiatives and we are constantly looking to stage a better experience for our guests,” says Amy.

When her and Tony married, they honeymooned in Florida in November and spent a great deal of time looking at top campgrounds in that part of the world. The 'Big Rig friendly' concrete pads they saw for RVs there seduced them so much, they decided to implement the concept at their own KOA.

“These are 13 by 75 feet pads with an attached 30 by 40 feet attached patio. The area is entirely surrounded by grass. We developed a 40 such sites concept we call Cedarwood Country. We saw a need for this in guests who particularly appreciate the pristine character of campsites.”

Amy explains how some of her guests invest as much as $500,000 to $1 million in rigs that become permanent homes. They spend their winters in the United States:

“We want them to come spend their summers with us. This subdivision has its own adult lounge and washrooms. We are hoping to build a clubhouse there down the road. People make lifelong friends through camping. This is a very family-friendly environment.”

Amy and Tony helped one of her brothers start their own KOA franchise. Now that her kids are old enough to start helping around, who knows? They might just catch the KOA bug as well:

“Of course, it is easier to get them to help out if you throw in a golf cart to get the work done. It is a good life for them. Of course, they think money grows on trees for the time being, but they’ll get the gist of it down the road.”

Perhaps in another twenty years or so, their children will be running the place, while Amy and Tony Raposo are off explore the world of opportunities that await those who dare to dream.



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Conveying a wealth of stories and legends, suffused with the spirit of the people who carved and raised them, British Columbia's totem poles can be read as if they were history books.

BY CAROLYNE PARENT

Totem poles stand proudly in Vancouver, Duncan and Victoria, alone or in groups. Carved from cedar trees, some poles are painted, others are not. But all depict a series of intertwined mystical creatures and mythical animals, and all showcase the remarkable talent of the sculptors who created them. Small wonder that these towering artworks provoke a sense of awe, for a part of the collective memory of the Pacific Northwest Coast First Nations courses the length of each mysterious pole.

Long ago, coastal Aboriginal peoples began recording in wood their history, culture and feats. The tradition began in the late 18th century, when trade with European explorers gave First Nations artists access to tools with which to sculpt "the Tree of Life."

The flourishing trade between Aboriginal peoples and Europeans also gave rise to more and more potlatches, occasions of feasting and gift-giving that became increasingly elaborate. Because tradition dictated that a totem pole be erected at each potlatch, the art of pole-carving blossomed during this period, as Pat Kramer explains in Totem Poles (Altitude Publishing).

Recording History

This was also the period when totem-pole art became systematized. For example, a totem pole at a chief's longhouse, whether standing outside the dwelling or carved directly onto the housepost, featured heraldic symbols that conveyed the lineage and status of household members.

Mortuary poles were topped with a platform large enough to hold a box containing the remains of an important person. It is said that all friends of the deceased had to keep vigil, and that over successive nights they would withdraw, one by one, until only one person was left. That person could then communicate with the spirit of the departed.

A memorial or commemorative pole depicted the special events and achievements in a family's life, while a narrative pole affirmed its owner's right to tell stories and sing ancestral songs about his phratry, or group of clans.

Stylized Shapes

Of all of the ornate, stylized beings depicted on totem poles, the most familiar are those of the tribes' protective animals, each of which is endowed with specific qualities. The bear symbolizes the spirit of sacrifice, for instance, the fox embodies the intelligence of the earth, the frog represents generosity and the raven signifies honour, while Siskiutl the sea serpent stands for the bravery of warriors.

But the most important creature of them all is the Thunderbird. Long before his name became associated with a car model, the Thunderbird was a mythical eagle that sent thunder rolling from the tips of his wings, lighting flashing from his eyes and rain falling from a lake on his back.

The Thunderbird is at the centre of numerous Aboriginal legends. One holds that he lifted a voracious whale from the sea because it was causing a famine in a fishing village, and changed it into a mountain set down near the city of Duncan on Vancouver Island. By way of thanks, a local chief promised the Thunderbird that an emblem in his likeness would crown all totem poles erected in his honour. That promise is kept even now - the Thunderbird is still one of the most popular images on totem poles.

Magnificent Artworks

Sadly, many totem poles were destroyed in the mid-1900s at the instigation of overzealous missionaries who saw the poles as pagan idols. A good number of poles were later shipped to museums abroad, and countless others disintegrated before they could be reproduced (the life span of a totem pole carved out of cedar is about 85 years). But fortunately, some magnificent samples survive in British Columbia, mainly in Vancouver and on Vancouver Island.

Whether a replica of a century-old pole or the work of a latter-day artist who is proudly carrying on the tradition, a totem pole is meant to convey a piece of the gripping story of Canada's First Nations. Visitors to B.C. could do a lot worse than listen to the tales totem poles tell.


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



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The Ambroz Blacksmith Shop in Mossbank may not be the most glorious building in Saskatchewan, but it sure has significance in the heart and mind of those who are concerned with the preservation of Saskatchewan’s heritage.

It is the oldest known, fully furnished, blacksmith shop still on its original site in Saskatchewan. Architecturally, it is a very simple one-story commercial building with a gabled roof and a typical false front covered with embossed, galvanized, tin. It is located right on Main Street alongside the blacksmith’s residence.

Both buildings were designated Provincial Heritage Properties in 2003. Roy Tollefson is President of the Mossbank and District Museum, which looks after the properties.

“Frank Ambroz came from Poland in the 1920’s and operated a shop here for 60 years, until 1998. His commitment to providing blacksmithing services to our community could never be forgotten. His industry of choice played a vital role in Saskatchewan’s development.”

Tollefson recalls how as early as 1885, when the Pole Trail and its signature telegraph line linked Moose Jaw to the Northwest Mounted Police’s Wood Mountain Post — at a time of great uncertainty due the Northwest Resistance and the illicit liquor trade along the American border — the Plains transportation network depended on the blacksmiths’ craft.

“The trail of poles over the prairie allowed people to find their way when the trail was covered with snow in the winter, but more importantly perhaps, the Pole Trail would see as many as 300 horse-drawn wagons a day traveling on it before the arrival of the ‘Steel’ — the railway. And long after the coming of trains to Mossbank, transportation of goods and people was still mostly done with horse and wagons — including during the period when Frank Ambroz opened his shop.”

With continuous use and the dry climate, wheels would shrink and lose their sturdiness with time. Ambroz would remove the rim from the wheel, heat up the iron rim over hot coals and crimp it so as to reduce its circumference. The entire rim would then be reheated and hammered back over the spokes. If the wooden spokes caught fire the flames were doused with water. As the rim cooled, it contracted and tightened up on the wheel.

“He could fix just about anything in his shop. He had a four-cylinder stationary gas engine that powered a line shaft with which he ran a heavy-duty drill and grinders. It also powered this trip hammer he used to create new edges and surfaces for a variety of implements — in particular, it was used to sharpen plough shares and cultivator shovels.”

One of the most common agricultural tools that needed regular maintenance was the moldboard plough — the classic single blade oxen or horse-drawn implement that turned long ribbons of sod with each pass on the virgin prairie. The larger moldboard ploughs with a dozen or more bottoms were pulled by huge steam tractors.

“Every now and again, when a particularly sandy area was ploughed, the plough shares had to be sharpened, and Frank did that for his customers. He was also a farrier, with a mind to constant innovation. He had installed a contraption of his own design to lift horses in the shop, in order to put shoes on them more easily. He was also his time’s equivalent of a modern-day welder. He would undertake any kind of metal work.”

In later years, Frank Ambroz acquired a portable electric welder. He went about doing smaller jobs around the countryside, as well as building all kinds of grain boxes for trucks.

“He also built a beautiful iron fence around his yard which showcases the apple trees he planted. Every last Wednesday in August, we host Apple Pie Day in Mossbank in celebration of the role of the Museum in our community and also Frank and Mary’s life of service to this community,” says Tollefson.

The Ambroz Shop is still in full working order, as is the stationary engine. Every year on July 1st, the community invites blacksmiths to come to town and bring the foundry alive againduring Mossbank’s Blacksmith Festival.

“We have had the good fortune to have the support of blacksmiths from Moose Jaw, Briercrest and Ardill.”

The blacksmithing tradition is alive and well along southern Saskatchewan’s Pole Trail, thanks to Roy Tollefson and his friends at the Mossbank and District Museum.


Source: Saskatchewan Agriculture and Food


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Nestled at the eastern edge of the Alberta Rockies, Canmore is the ideal base for setting out in search of the ultimate mountain-bike trail. Blessed with spectacular scenery and woven with trails, the surrounding area is irresistible to anyone who's caught the biking bug.

BY GILLES MORNEAU

Picture the perfect mountain-bike trail. At first it climbs gently through a forest redolent of pine and damp moss. Then it drops and narrows, running along a cliff and around an enormous glacial lake in a postcard setting. After that it flows onwards for 10 fast kilometres, punctuated with challenging obstacles that thrill experts and beginners alike. Yet you needn't be in peak physical condition to tackle it.

Such a trail exists. It's the Lake Minnewanka Trail near Canmore, and it's a magnet for mountain cyclists in Banff National Park.

If, on the other hand, your definition of the definitive trail involves something rougher and tougher, you could strike out for the Skogan Pass, a 20-kilometre ride that takes four hours of hard effort to complete. After climbing a steep 660-metre path, you reach the top of the pass (2,090 metres) and are rewarded with a view of the Canmore Valley spread out below, flanked by Mount Rundle and the Three Sisters mountain range. Or if you're simply thirsting for unspoiled wilderness, there's the entire Kananaskis region - laced with some 40 marked trails - just to the south of Canmore.

Indeed, whatever your idea of the ultimate trail, chances are you'll find it somewhere around Canmore, population 10,000, in the Bow River Valley, just 15 kilometres from Banff and the other Rocky Mountain national parks, and a mere 75 minutes from Calgary International Airport.

Popular Pastime

Many people who work in Banff actually live in Canmore, drawn by its laid-back tranquility. Canmore residents also tend to be outdoor sports enthusiasts, and mountain biking is particularly popular. Brian Cooke is a prime example. Affectionately known as "Big Bri," he was raised in Calgary but moved to Canmore because of his love of cycling.

Big Bri, who has roamed all over Canada and the United States on two wheels, swears there's no better place for "cross-country riders looking for epic single track in pristine non-motorized country." Plus, he says, there's another aspect to the cycling hereabouts that enhances the area's reputation. "The trend in B.C. is for lift access or shuttle access-type freeriding, but because we are in park country, this sort of thing has not happened in Canmore." Cyclists here have to earn their wild mountain descents with much effort, and there's a certain amount of pride in that.

Canmore was founded in 1883 as a mining town. Many of the present-day cycling trails wind away from mining roads that lead to the coalmines, especially in the area around the Canmore Nordic Centre. Built to host the biathlon and cross-country events in the 1988 Winter Olympics, the centre offers 70 kilometres of extremely varied trails just five minutes from downtown Canmore. Novices can rent bicycles or take introductory courses at the centre, where the trails are generally suitable for beginners - although some sections are tricky enough that they posed serious challenges for the world's best cyclists when the World Cup Cross-Country Mountain Biking races were held here in 1998, 1999 and 2000.

Canmore has also hosted numerous Canada Cup competitions and is now serving as the finish line for the TransRockies Challenge (August 10-16, 2003), an international event billed as the toughest mountain bike race in the world. In teams of two, competitors cover more than 600 kilometres of unspeakably rough wilderness trails in seven days, struggling over a route that includes numerous portages and three crossings of the Continental Divide. Also on the TransRockies agenda are a one-day race over 80 kilometres of narrow, difficult trails, and a 24-hour team race.

But Canmore isn't just for experts. For guided tours, you can join local bicycle-club outings along the most popular trails in the region. If you prefer to explore on your own, just pick up some maps and a copy of the book Backcountry Biking in the Canadian Rockies, which details various itineraries throughout the area.

But be sure to plan ahead. The climate in the Rockies is unpredictable, so take tools, spare tubes, food, water and warm clothing. Always remember that you're in the land of bears and that around any curve in the trail, you may find yourself face-to-face with one. A black bear would probably get out of your way quickly, but grizzlies are a different matter. The good news is that grizzlies tend to avoid humans, and you'd likely have to go deep into Banff National Park to encounter any. In any event, local bike shops will gladly sell you the Number One accessory for repelling unwelcome beasts - a bear bell.

Attached to your bicycle saddle, the bell jingles constantly, warning all living creatures of your coming. It can also get pretty annoying for the cyclist, but chances are you'll end up keeping it affixed forevermore to your bike as a souvenir of an unforgettable Canmore cycling vacation. If, that is, you can get used to the noise.


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



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There’s a seductive taste to seafood chowder in the Maritimes. Made with succulently sweet seafood freshly plucked from the sea, it's rich, creamy, fragrant and altogether irresistible.

BY LANE MacINTOSH

"They're probably still talking about it," says Nancy Lohnes, owner and head cook of Magnolia's Grill in Lunenburg, Nova Scotia.

She's referring to a group of American tourists who visited her funky little café near the town's famous waterfront a few summers back. And what they're probably still talking about is the dramatic delivery ― by local fisherman Peter Tanner ― of a barely-out-of-the-water halibut.

"Mr. Tanner roared through the front door like a fast-moving tide," Lohnes says with a big laugh. "He was wearing his rain gear and rubber boots, and you could smell the salt and seaweed as he brushed past the tourists carrying this big plastic bag with a halibut's tail sticking out.

"I had just finished serving them their seafood chowder, so I was close enough to see their faces when Peter and the fish surged past. Their eyes almost popped out of their heads. 'When we say fresh seafood,' I said to them, 'we mean fresh seafood.'"

For many Maritimers, and for many visitors, the sampling of local chowders in communities along the Atlantic coast is a ritual akin to the sampling of Scotland's single-malt whiskies. And that's the way it should be, say "chowderheads" ― the true chowder enthusiasts who follow their taste buds in a quest for the best blend of fresh seafood, cream, potatoes, onions, butter and herbs.

Although chowderheads often have differing views on the ideal texture or colour, and on the ingredients that go into the perfect chowder, they all agree with Lohnes that the seafood has to be fresh, and the fresher the better.

Driving through any Maritime fishing village, what tourist with a love of seafood wouldn't be lured by the siren song of a creamy chowder chock full of scallops, shrimp, lobster, salmon, clams and haddock? Sweet is the song, and our ears yearn to go on listening, while our mouths yearn to go on eating.

For Austin Clement, a chef instructor at The Culinary Institute of Canada in Charlottetown, making seafood chowder is a spiritual journey that fills him with a passion for perfection. He teaches his students that well-made chowder reflects the beauty and harmony of the Maritime landscape and is something that needs to be taken seriously. He ought to know. He's the 2002 Provincial and International Chowder Champion.

"I always get my seafood from people who know seafood and treat it with respect," he says. "I even get many of my other ingredients ― potatoes, onions and herbs ― from local farmers. For me, the best cuisine is food you make for yourself and the ones you love, using only the best that the land, sea and sky have to offer."

Chowder making is an art form for Clement, and he believes it should be kept simple. "The finest chowders are basic, traditional chowders," he declares, "made the way they’ve been made for hundreds of years, with plenty of fresh seafood, lots of heavy cream, butter, salt and pepper, onions, celery and herbs. I add a touch of tarragon and basil."

He advises visitors to sniff out the chowders each locale has to offer by asking around. In every seaside village, town and city, there are people who know where to find the best chowder. "We have some of the finest quality seafood on the planet right here in the Maritimes, and we have many chowder makers who know how to use it properly," he says. "This is a wonderful advantage for cuisine in this part of Canada."

It's another busy morning at The Pilot House in Charlottetown, where Guy LeClair is chopping onions, potatoes and celery for one of his renowned chowders. Like Clement, LeClair is an award-winning chowder maker, and like Clement he believes the best chowders are simple and traditional.

"There’s a danger of making chowder too fancy," he observes. "Originally, it was intended to be a full meal, not an entrée, and that's how I like to serve it." On the stove behind him, fresh
seafood is poaching in a large, heavy pan. Soon, the aroma filling the kitchen will drift into the dining area, as it does each day, tempting visitors and residents alike with the poetry of perfection.

Far to the west, on the edge of the Bay of Fundy in Saint John, N.B., a similar aroma is wafting through the kitchen at the Inn on The Cove as innkeepers Ross and Willa Mavis prepare the day's menu. Ross Mavis says making chowder is one of the pleasures of living so close to the sea.

"The name chowder comes from the French word chaudiére, a heavy pot French fishermen used to cook soups and stews," he explains. "Each locality along the Atlantic coast has its favourite recipe based on the kinds of fish and vegetables available.

"You should be able to taste the seafood in good chowder immediately, without hunting around for it. I can usually size up an establishment's level of quality by tasting its chowder. Unfortunately, some cooks think chowder has to be so thick you can stand a fork in it, so they load it down with flour or cornstarch, and it winds up tasting like wallpaper paste.

"Chowder doesn't have to be thick. It has to be rich and flavourful to be good. You can tell right away, from that first taste, if the chef has given it the necessary care and attention and knows what he or she is doing."

"And of course," he concludes emphatically, "the seafood must be fresh!"

Down on the Lunenburg wharf, Tanner smiles at a large Atlantic halibut. It weighs at least 18 kilos and has been out of the water for only a few hours. He knows that Lohnes would want it. He grabs a big green plastic bag and shoves the fish in headfirst. Several streets up from the waterfront, some tourists are peering into the front window of Magnolia's Grill and wonder aloud if the seafood is fresh. Out in the kitchen, Lohnes slips a spoonful of butter into the big chowder pot simmering on the stove and stirs it gently.

Another day at Magnolia's Grill. Another day in the Maritimes.


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



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More than wine, the pleasure is in the activities along the way.

BY MARGARET SWAINE

In twenty-five years, Ontario has gone from being nowhere in the wine world to a mini Napa North. The province now has over 70 wineries, the majority of which are in the Niagara Peninsula. Almost all offer at least a tasting room that includes reserve wine for sale you can only get at the cellar door. There's much more than wine geek appeal however. Sure it's fun to bring a special bottle back to impress your friends, but that alone doesn't make a destination. It's the other activities that are the drawing card.

Driving down the long laneway to the impressive new Peller Estates Winery in Niagara during fall harvest celebrations, I arrived at a wine lovers' Disney World. There were horse drawn carriages trotting around the vineyards, a Steve Bauer cyclist group in bright yellow shirts resting on the steps leading into the winery, diners on the sunlit patio and pretty young girls standing between the vines offering free samples of fresh crushed grape juice from different varietals to compare with wine made from those grapes the previous year. Inside, educational seminars on the ABC's of cabernet were taking place, along with winery tours and a harvest celebration tasting menu at the elegant Peller Estates Winery Restaurant. The boutique was packed with shoppers examining the decanters, fine crystal, posters, corkscrew collection, wine CD's, icewine chocolates, placemats and of course the wine.

Some of the guests were on "Shaw Vineyard Pleasures" package. After their tour and dinner at the winery, they would drive, or do the short walk, to Niagara-on-the-Lake's Shaw Festival to enjoy a world-class theatre performance. Others who had joined the Peller by Request club were getting a complimentary premium wine tasting after their tour or were taking advantage of their discount on accessories in the boutique. Then there were people like me who were making Peller Estate just one stop on a weekend tour of Ontario wineries.

The Niagara Wine Route starts about an hour's drive from Toronto. There just off the main QEW highway, travelers can begin their tour, which meanders along 40 kilometers of rural roads from Grimsby to Niagara-on-the-Lake. The route, starting on Regional Road 81, traverses gently rolling landscape through small towns, vineyards and orchards. Half the Niagara Peninsula is still devoted to agriculture and many of the farms are proudly preserved century properties, with roots tracing back to the days of the Empire Loyalists. The Niagara Escarpment on one side and glittering Lake Ontario on the other handsomely bracket the route. The top ridges of the craggy cliffs of the Escarpment were once the shoreline of Lake Iroquois, an ancient lake that receded with the glaciers leaving behind the Five Great Lakes as we know them today, and fossil rich land great for grape growing. The route is not a straight drive, rather in order to visit wineries, there are many sideroads to take up and down the escarpment. Signage is generally good, marked with a grape logo and names of the wineries, but even I've been confused, and I've done the route many times.

You can leave the QEW at the first sign of a winery or continue until you see a particular one you wish to visit. Many of the wineries have signs on the QEW that direct you to the correct exit. I'm not a fan of highway driving so I exit at Fifty Road and start the route from the beginning, stopping at roadside stands to pick up fresh fruit and other local goodies as I go.

The road passes by the towns of Grimsby, Beamsville and Vineland and so might you. It's the wineries dotted around them that you want to visit, all which have tasting rooms. Peninsula Ridge has a restaurant on site and delicious chardonnay. Angel's Gate, a spanking new winery and Thirty Bench quite country-rustic in comparison, share the same road (Mountainview) and make lovely wines. Modern looking Malivoire, between Beamsville and Vineland on Regional Road 81, uses a hillside drop for a pump free wine process. The end result from winemaker Ann Sperling is some of the best chardonnay and pinot noir in the province.

The next town however on this meandering route to Niagara is worth a visit. Jordan Village, home of Cave Spring Cellars Winery, is a restored tiny hamlet with Georgian and Victorian homes lining Main Street. Antique shops, galleries, a garden shop, restaurant and inn are all bunched together on two streets. Jordan Antiques Centre houses 25 professional dealers in 7,000 square feet. Cave Spring’s adjacent restaurant On the Twenty serves good Canadian fresh market cuisine. From the restaurant you see the steep and beautiful Twenty Mile Valley. Across the street, The Inn on the Twenty is a charming property build in 1996 that has some of the best accommodation in the area.

Once past the town of St. Catharines you can head south towards the US border and visit a few wineries on the way to the famous Horseshoe Falls in Niagara Falls. The other direction takes you to picturesque Niagara-on-the-Lake and a host of wineries encircling the town. Three million tourists flock to this Regency town annually, so don't expect a quiet time. Home of The Shaw Festival, theatre dominates the town from April 4 to November 24. Shaw, North America's second largest repertory company, is the only one in the world specializing in plays written by George Bernard Shaw and his contemporaries (www.shawfest.sympatico.ca). Ten of the nearby wineries offer dining and theatre packages along with a winery tour.

For winery visitors however, theatre is just one activity among many they can enjoy. In summer there are barbeques, jazz and blues in the vineyard, chamber concerts and picnics. Fall is harvest celebrations, wine makers dinners and dozens of events surrounding the Niagara Grape and Wine Festival. Winter brings icewine celebrations and holiday shopping at winery boutiques. Spring is for new release tastings, biking and walking through the vineyard and blossom festivals. Every time I've done the trip I've found new wineries, restaurants and activities. There is one thing though that I'm not going to do again - pick grapes for icewine in the dead cold of winter. That, like sleeping in Quebec City's Icehotel, is more fun in concept than reality.


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



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The super-stylish boutique hotels that have been popping up around Montreal in the last few years are among the city's toniest places to stay.

BY HUGO PARADIS

The year 2002 brought more new hotels to Montreal than any year since 1990. Offering 800-plus guestrooms, seven new properties opened for business, including several boutique hotels.

Boutique hotels, so-named because of their high-concept style, personalized service and relatively small size, are chic, comfortable, intimate, hip and distinctively designed. They respond to the high expectations of a special breed of road warriors craving the kind of comfort and services available in large-scale luxury hotels, but in warmer, more intimate surroundings.

The concept was introduced in Quebec by Christiane Germain, owner of the Germain des Prés and the Dominion 1912 in Quebec City as well as Le Germain hotels in Montreal and Toronto, and the trend shows no signs of slowing in Montreal. A look at the city's newest boutique hotels:

Hôtel Godin

Housed in an Art Nouveau building dating from 1914, the Godin, fashioned by Montreal architect Dan Hanganu and the New York-Toronto interior-design team of Yabu-Pushelberg, opened in the autumn of 2004 after three years of construction and an outlay of $30 million.

Billed as the "hotel of the year 2010," the establishment is boldly striking in architecture and décor. Its 136 rooms and suites are at once sleek and luminous; each features a TV with integrated computer, plus wireless Internet access.

Located at the corner of Saint-Laurent and Sherbrooke streets, Hôtel Godin has a bar with outdoor terrace, four conference rooms and a gym, all meant to attract business travellers. The property is owned by the firm Terra Incognita, which is in turn owned by renowned Montreal philanthropist Daniel Langlois.

W Montréal

The other newcomer to the Montreal boutique-hotel scene also opened its doors in the fall of 2004. The Starwood chain's W Montréal lies in the heart of the city's "Quartier International" district. A paean to modern design, the hotel has infused the classic Banque du Canada building with a whole new life.

The instant you walk in, the tone is set: there's a four-metre-high waterfall flowing down sculpted, illuminated glass, comfortable armchairs, an immense anthracite mirror flanked by a flamboyantly red check-in counter, and a grand staircase leading to a bar.

The rooms are equally amazing, with oversized furniture, huge windows overlooking Square Victoria, a large transparent shower stall, and vivid colours dominated by electric blue. The use of atypical materials like chrome, stone and fur also brings a unique twist to the décor of the 152 rooms, which include 22 "Urban" suites, six "Wow" suites and three "Extreme-Wow" suites.

An Italian fusion restaurant (the Otto), two bars (the Wunderbar and the Plateau), a spa (Away), a fitness centre (the Detox) and a business centre (Wired) round out the services at this establishment, destined to become one of Montreal's top hotels.

Hôtel Nelligan

Marielle C. Saint-Pierre, niece of the Quebec poet Émile Nelligan, attended the grand opening of the gorgeous Hôtel Nelligan, named in honour of her famous uncle. Housed in a pair of connecting buildings erected between 1830 and 1840, the Nelligan offers 35 rooms and 28 suites with fireplaces and Jacuzzis. Some rooms have a view of the St. Lawrence River and some overlook the hotel's soaring central atrium.

A vision of exposed brick walls and warm, amber-coloured woodwork, the impressive central court boasts a spectacular fountain and is topped with a skylight. Off to one side, the chic Verses restaurant excels at contemporary French cuisine, serving up regional products prepared with great flair and savoir-faire.

Hôtel Le Saint-Sulpice

Le Saint-Sulpice bills itself not just as a boutique hotel, but as an urban resort hotel ― a kind of condo-hotel, if you will. Located behind the Notre-Dame Basilica and opening onto the glorious Sulpician Seminary Gardens, the property has 108 spacious loft-style rooms and suites ranging in size from 59 to 160 square metres, with kitchenettes, work areas and enormous bathrooms.

Some suites have a fireplace, an exposed brick wall or a terrace offering panoramic vistas of Old Montreal. Roomier and better designed than a standard hotel room, they also feature living rooms and French doors between the sleeping areas in the two-bedroom suites.

At once timeless and casually chic, the lobby décor at the Saint-Sulpice is also a nod to history, for it was on this site in 1654 that the first home of Pierre Le Moyne and Jacques Le Ber, the two most famous fur traders in Ville-Marie (as Montreal was then known), was built. Now the building draws businesspeople ― in effect the contemporary counterparts to Le Moyne and Le Ber.

The "S Le Restaurant" on the ground floor of Le Saint-Sulpice is renowned for its creative menu.

Hôtel St-Paul

Housed in a 100-year-old building, Hôtel St-Paul offers 15 apartments with terraces, 120 rooms (including 24 suites) and countless enormous windows that flood the premises with natural light. Opened in 2001, the remarkable property has won a host of design awards and made it onto Condé Nast Traveler magazine's "Hot List" several times.

Clearly, no expense was spared on the design of the hotel, whose historic façade yields to a sleek 21st-century interior. The hotel floors alternate between two themes, earth and sky. The earth rooms seem solid and tactile in their colours, materials and furnishings, while the sky rooms focus on light and air. Throughout, natural elements and fine materials blend seamlessly.

The hotel restaurant, Cube, is one of the best in the city, while the hotel bar, Cru, is a favourite after-work watering hole among trendy Montrealers.

Hôtel Gault

Talk about a masterpiece of purity! Looking at the magnificent Beaux Arts-style exterior of the Hôtel Gault, you'd never guess that the 30 loft-style guestrooms and public spaces inside are ultra contemporary and minimalist.

The interior design by the Montreal firm YH2 is striking. Steel, wood, stucco and concrete are here reduced to their simplest expressions, while also conveying unspeakable chic. And with furniture carefully selected for its minimalist appeal, the whole place simply oozes class.

Widely acclaimed in the media (Wallpaper, the British and American editions of Condé Nast Traveler, The New York Times, Elle Décor, etc.), the Gault boasts enormous guestrooms with private terraces and ingenious moveable elements like sliding panels and dressing screens that can be shifted around to change the look of the room.

There is no restaurant on the ground floor, merely a big bar accessible to guests only. After all, one goal of boutique hotels is to provide customers with a sense of intimacy and exclusivity.

Hôtel Le St-James

Le St-James is a unique establishment that really falls into a category all its own ― it could more accurately be described as a "museum hotel" rather than a "boutique hotel." By far the most exclusive of Montreal's luxe lodgings, the St-James was conceived by a wealthy globetrotting couple who spent more than three years culling artworks from around the world that now adorn the property.

Compared to the style at the St-Paul, the Gault and the Godin, the St-James is ostentatious ― but this is luxurious, refined, utterly tasteful ostentation. From Italian marble to exquisite woodwork to washrooms worthy of the ritziest Turkish bath, each of the 28 guestrooms and 38 suites has a different design, but all are equally stunning. The penthouse apartment with terrace, which runs a tidy $5,000 a night, is the jewel in the crown that is the Hôtel Le St-James.

The epitome of elegance, Le St-James is the only hotel in Canada to have joined the listings of the Leading Small Hotels of the World, an international network of very exclusive properties.


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



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When the Yukon government proclaimed the woolly mammoth one of the territory's animal emblems in the 1990s, it harkened back some 25,000 years, to an era when colossal prehistoric elephants roamed across a land called Beringia.

BY JEAN-PIERRE SYLVESTRE

Stroll the streets of Dawson City on the shores of the Yukon River, and you'll find an enticing array of souvenirs. Local boutiques, like the Klondike Nugget and Ivory Shop, sell jewellery, small sculptures and intricately carved scrimshaw. Remarkably, the scrimshaw is made of fossil ivory from the tusks of long-extinct woolly mammoths.

"Mammoth ivory is harder to carve than elephant ivory, but on the plus side it's tremendously plentiful," says boutique owner Greg Kehoe. "In fact, experts estimate world reserves of mammoth tusks in the Yukon, Alaska and Siberia at around 60,000 tons. So elephants can relax for a while!"

Kehoe sells between 2,000 and 3,000 kilos of mammoth ivory a year. He estimates many thousands of tons of fossil ivory move through Dawson City annually. All of which raises the question: Is this some kind of "white gold" rush?

Hitting the Jackpot

Actually, it was during the Klondike Gold Rush that the Yukon's fossil ivory was first discovered a little over a century ago. To find gold, miners and other adventurers had to dig down through the permafrost to reach the gravel beds that held gold deposits.

Permafrost, of course, is ideal for preserving the carcasses of long-vanished animals. Geologists and miners working in Siberia and Alaska have dug up everything from partial or complete mammoth carcasses to bison, horses and other Ice Age mammals.

The Yukon also boasts a wealth of fossils and other traces of prehistoric creatures, and mammoth skeletons and ivory are still being unearthed here today. In the north of the territory, prospectors, loggers and adventurous tourists exploring riverbanks occasionally stumble across tusks, bones, vertebra and even entire mammoth skeletons.

The fossil beds aren't on any tourist map. They're scattered around the territory, and finding them is largely a matter of luck. But they really do exist, for woolly mammoths once roamed widely over this cold northern region.

Glacial Cold

Twenty-five thousand years ago, during the last Ice Age, the average global temperature was 0° C. It was a time of great glaciers, steppes and tundra, an Ice Age that lasted for 10,000 years.

But much of Alaska and the Yukon were free of ice. Sea level was 100 to 200 metres lower than it is now, which left the floor of the Bering Sea exposed, creating a land connection between Alaska and the Yukon to the west and China and Siberia to the east. Animals migrated back and forth over the land bridge, part of a larger unglaciated area called Beringia and nicknamed the Mammoth Steppe.

It was the age of mammoths, but it was the age of many other creatures as well. Plants and animals thrived despite the cold. "Sixty-two species of land mammals that date from the last Ice Age have been recovered as fossils in the Yukon," says palaeontologist John Storer, director of the Yukon Beringia Interpretive Centre, a Whitehorse museum devoted to prehistoric wildlife from the age of mammoths.

The centre exhibits complete skeletons of some mind-boggling animals, starting with the woolly mammoth, which was about the size of present-day Asiatic elephants and had a shaggy coat and large, curved ivory tusks. Also on display are skeletons of specimens like the giant beaver (which at 2.5 metres long and 200 kilos was roughly the size of a black bear), the giant ground sloth or megatherium, and two species of prehistoric bison, the large-horned bison and the steppe bison.

Another skeleton in the cavernous exhibition space is that of an enormous bear called the giant short-faced bear, which stood 30 centimetres taller than present-day grizzlies and was the biggest, strongest land carnivore in North America during the last Ice Age. The cave lion, the scimitar cat and other large predators can also be viewed at this extraordinary facility.

"But not all these animals have disappeared," Storer notes. "Some of the mammals that lived alongside the mammoths in the Yukon survive to this day, like the wolf, the caribou, the bison and the muskox."

In other words, prehistoric animals still dwell in our forests and out on the tundra. Think about that next time you're exploring the woods!


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



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Tranquility and stunning scenery: a bald eagle soaring overhead, a loon's call echoing across still waters, a fish leaping up to leave a series of circles as its wake.

BY CHRISTALEE FROESE

There are rare moments in a lifetime filled with such peace and beauty that they cause your breathing to become shallow and bring tears to your eyes. These are the kinds of moments that arise unexpectedly amongst the many islands and open-water corridors of Lac La Ronge.

A bald eagle soaring overhead. A loon's call echoing across still waters. A fish leaping up to leave a series of circles as its wake. These are all daily occurrences out on the waters of this massive Saskatchewan lake which measures 65 by 97 kilometres and is bordered by 1,600 kilometers of shoreline.

The size and solitude of the lake can be truly appreciated aboard an Eagle Point Resort houseboat which will take you to rarely seen and remote regions of this sparsely inhabited lake. While guiding your houseboat through the open waters of Lac La Ronge, it is more common to see a bald eagle land amongst the tree tops than it is to see another houseboat, or any other sign of human existence for that matter.

The lake is sometimes hard to navigate, as the rocky bottom reaches for the top in places and forms reefs that are impossible to see with the naked eye. The boat's captain has to be on the lookout for these obstacles on almost all occasions. However, there are some open areas that are free and clear of reefs and there are also endless stretches of shoreline where the boat can be peacefully docked so that navigation need not be a concern.

The first night out on the lake, we managed to stay in a lovely little inlet on Mollard Island where our boat was cradled on a beautiful beach of fine sand and where pine trees and rock cliffs rose up more than 15 metres high on either side of our boat. The water was clear and inviting - so inviting that we even chose to use it for a refreshing morning dip rather than depend on the houseboat's full bath facilities.

We were tempted to never leave the peace of this secluded inlet, but the call of greater adventures carried over the open waters and lured us out onto the vast expanse of the lake once more.

While we thought we would never again find a treasure like Mollard island, our adventurous spirit rewarded us as we spotted a stretch of inviting sand in the distance. A look at our well-marked, but sometimes confusing, map showed that we had come upon Mooney Beach. It was with Caruso-like curiosity that we threw the boat's plank out onto the sand and began exploring with wide-eyed amazement.

The shore itself was an awesome contradiction of fine, soft sand and jutting, jagged rocks. We wandered the shoreline, finding driftwood, water-smoothed stones and a variety of freshwater creatures.

After several rock-skipping competitions, we stopped to sunbathe, swim and enjoy some cool drinks on the sandy beach. It made us feel a little like being shipwrecked on Gilligan's Island - solitude and sanctuary, complete with refreshments, bathing suits and snacks just a stone's throw away.

The rest of the day was spent exploring the numerous trails on the island. Fern-lined trails led us through pine and poplar forests sprinkled with fungus and mushrooms of unimaginable variety and color. In places, the light fell through the trees with such intensity that the green moss actually seemed to glow and the small orange mushrooms appeared to twinkle. And yet in other areas, the light was low and dim, softly lighting fallen logs and rocky crags.

Every now and then a trail would lead to the outer edge of the island and we'd perch ourselves upon the jutting rocks and watch the waves wreck against the shoreline beneath us.

Some of the best moments of the trip came while simply letting our houseboat float in the middle of the lake. Mundane chores like cooking meals and washing dishes magically became peaceful tasks aboard the window-filled boat which framed a view of untouched natural beauty in every direction we cared to look.

With at-home conveniences like leather recliners, a kitchen table and CD player, it was sometimes hard to remember we were on a boat at all. In fact, the gentle splash of water on the boat's pontoons was often mistaken for a leaky tap, until we were aroused enough out of our relaxed state to remember that we were indeed on a boat in the middle of a huge lake.

Driving the boat from the upper deck was a truly unforgettable experience, as wind rushed through our hair, the sun set our faces aglow and the motion of the water put our souls at rest.
The tranquility of this holiday would be hard to duplicate as there were endless moments to sit on the boat's upper deck and read or to lounge on the front of the boat and simply watch the water go by.

Without people, phones and roads around, the only interruption came from calling loons - an interruption that was welcomed and even missed once we returned to land.

The motorized fishing boat that came with the houseboat was a wonderful addition to the trip. It was great for exploring the day's route in advance, as well as for going out in the early mornings for a peaceful fishing experience.

The fishing was fabulous, if not for the bounty we netted, then for the pleasure we had watching the trout, pickerel and perch swim beneath our boat, follow our bated lines and bite at our hooks.
As we docked our boat after three tranquil days on Lac La Ronge, we looked back over the serene water and took with us memories of peaceful moments that will last in our minds forever.


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



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Visitors to Prince Edward Island flock to Cavendish and other tourist hotspots, often neglecting other areas of pristine natural beauty. That's good news if you want to get off the beaten track.

BY SIMON GARNEAU

I have nothing against Lucy Maud Montgomery, whose books about Anne of Green Gables are beloved the world over - but there's much more to Prince Edward Island than a feisty, freckle-faced heroine.

The romantic in me sees a land of hills and valleys rolling gently away to the horizon, of hardy fishermen sailing back into port with boatloads of tuna, of swallows lifting off from the cliffs at dusk, of countryside dotted with charming wood churches, of endless pink-sand beaches, of extraordinary emerald-green vistas shot through with splashes of rust-red soil, of breathtaking sky and the piercing cry of countless crows.

This is the Island you, too, can experience, far from the madding crowds, by spending some time on the remote northeast coast.

Picturesque Panoramas

From Charlottetown, head northeast on Route 2 to St. Peters Bay in Kings County, identified on most tourist maps as the Bays & Dunes region. Photo ops await around almost every curve of the road, which follows the Hillsborough River through fertile farmlands and verdant hills marbled with red dirt roads against a backdrop of deep blue sky.

Over a rise, and tranquil St. Peters Bay appears below, dotted with thousands of mussel buoys. Like sentinels guarding the indigo waters, three white churches stand around the bay.

At St. Peters Bay, turn onto Route 16, which skirts the Island's isolated northeast coast. Place names like Greenwich and Marie evoke the long-ago struggle between England and France for control of Île Saint-Jean, the French name given to the Island before the British conquest. Still other names on this shore, like Savage Harbour and Shipwreck Point, evoke the inherent dangers of the seafaring life.

The coast road leads to what in these parts passes for the end of the world, East Point. Here at Prince Edward Island's easternmost tip, the Gulf of St. Lawrence meets the Northumberland Strait and creates a rocky ridge that's most evident at low tide, when you might spot seals basking in the sun.

While not well known, the East Point Lighthouse offers an interesting guided tour. Climb to the top and watch the dramatic "meeting of tides" as the waters of the Northumberland Strait and the Gulf of St. Lawrence swirl together.

From the lighthouse, you can embark on a walk along a near-deserted beach to North Lake Harbour (but check the tide schedule first). It's eight kilometres roundtrip and will take about four hours to complete, but is not overly tiring because the sand is fairly firm. Best of all, you're assured of a peaceful stroll, for very few people come out this way.

Artist's Palette

Prince Edward Island is fabled for its russet-red soil, but its beaches are an artist's palette of colours that range from pure white to crimson red, and you'll find the beach between East Point and North Lake varies in hue from soft beige to cedar red.

After a couple of hours of walking, you come to North Lake Harbour, a non-touristy fishing village that's refreshingly free of souvenir shops selling lobster-shaped saltshakers. North Lake Harbour may not be the most pristine place on earth, but its very ruggedness and isolation carry their own charm.

The last time I was there, three fishermen were bringing in a yellowfin tuna that weighed more than 250 kilograms - pretty much what you'd expect from the self-proclaimed "Tuna Capital of the World."

Natural Show

Late afternoon is a particularly pleasant time to head back to East Point. In the hours before sunset, scores of seabirds swoop low over the ocean waves, foxes emerge from their dens and swallows leave their nests to hunt for insects, making for a great natural show.

And with any luck, you'll get back to Charlottetown just before dusk, in time to marvel at the sight of hundreds of crows all flying towards one huge tree in Victoria Park, where they roost for the night. Evening after evening, it's like a scene straight out of Hitchcock's The Birds.

This, to me, is Prince Edward Island ― not waterslides or rollercoasters or Anne of Green Gables, but blissful tranquillity and an exhilarating sense of freedom.


source: Canadian Tourism Commision

This reproduction is not represented as an official version of the materials reproduced, nor has it been made in affiliation with or with the endorsement of the Canadian Tourism Commission.



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At first glance, the town doesn’t look different from other southern Saskatchewan communities. Hard hit by the pressures of urbanization and the challenges facing the rural economy, Mortlach seemed destined to slowly erode away.

But something else is happening here. A story of inspiration, revitalization and renewed economic activity is shaping up — where no limits apply and the future is truly wide open.

Look no further than to Kelly Sapergia and his KJS Productions. The young, visually impaired entrepreneur produces jingles, audio logos and presentations for a variety of clients. He reviews technology products and computer games for the blind. He has also tested the latest audio book reader made by a Quebec company, and he looks after the village Web site.

“There is this great attitude in town. Everybody is accessible and always looking for ways to improve the quality of life for everyone. I think the key is the spirit of collaboration between the citizens, the business and the community services organizations.”

Rhonda Haukaas is the events coordinator for the Community Development Association.

“We asked ourselves what we could do to keep growing? We started small. We identified a few buildings that needed a fresh coat of paint. The Community Hall was one of those. We actually put in a ceiling mounted video projector and an audio system which the Village acquired for business presentations — all of a sudden we had conference facilities in Mortlach.”

The village went on to access new computers for the library and hooked them up to hi-speed Internet. New investors opened a western-themed restaurant and added a bed and breakfast component on the second floor of a local heritage building.

Last year, First Nations entrepreneur Kallie Bossence, who was raised in the village, opened a Fine Foods grocery store to which she added a hair salon and a state-of-the-art fitness centre on the second floor with 140 enrolled members. There is a bakery, a coffee shop, a liquor franchise and a beer store as well as a Rogers’ video concession in the premises. Asked if this wasn’t a bit of a gamble, she answers:

“Yes. But that’s what has to be done when we are all trying to revitalize our area. We have a new K-12 school in the village, which my four kids attend. Our population may be 350, but we are probably drawing in around 1,500 people when we include the surrounding communities.

Bossence plans to add a gas station to her business complex in May, to take advantages of a new opportunity she identified.

“Last summer, we were getting between four and 10 people a day stopping by to ask for gas. We will soon have both diesel and regular gas with more convenient hours than other stations in our sector — we’ll be open from 6 AM to 9PM in the winter and perhaps a little later in the summer.”

Tracy Gardner runs the Crocus Ridge Gallery, a beautifully converted 1906 church full of Saskatchewan crafts.

“When the church closed, other villages approached us with a view to acquiring the building. We thought we could still use it and opened the Gallery in 2002. Last year we doubled our 2003 sales. When the gas station opens up downtown, it will have a huge impact for us because of the increased traffic we will get off the highway. Another factor to keep in mind is that with the increased speed limit, we are well within commuting distance of Moose Jaw.”

In fact, finding a house for sale in Mortlach is a bit of a challenge these days, and probably indicative of the town promoter’s success. Rhonda Haukaas not only organizes Christmas carolling events at the village square, she has also been running Haukaas Manufacturing with her husband Greg for the last 25 years out of their family farm. It employs 12 to 15 full-time staff from the village and surrounding communities.

“We export side-arm field markers for farm equipment to China, Russia, Israel, Ukraine and Australia, but we started out commercializing stabilizers for pull-type swathers — one of Greg’s father’s ideas — which we first introduced at the Farm Progress Show in 1982. We have basically identified an opportunity and we are constantly thinking of new markets to explore.”

It is not unlike Rhonda Haukaas to pool her vision for Mortlach’s future with that of her fellow citizens. Village beautification became a priority when Mortlach embarked on a major tree-planting initiative; a wooden-sidewalk laying project; painted the heritage fire hall and put some interlocking bricks into the village square.

Mortlach is all about character — past and present. Restoring it to its original splendour has been the mission of Mayor Ron Locke and a determined group of local folks in and around the village. The closer one looks, the more, it seems, there is to discover in Mortlach.


Source: Saskatchewan Agriculture and Food


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