Category Archives: North West Passage

NWP 6. 4am. Really?

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19 & 20-Aug-24 Vancouver

Time for a little excursion into the mountains. Car hired. Subaru Ascent SUV is less car more tank. Could invade Russia in this. Not really Putin. Just joking.

Hour’s drive to the Sea to Sky Cable Car. For amazing views for lunch overlooking snow capped mountains and a lake made turquoise with glacial deposits. The wonders of modern technology at the top of a mountain 3,000ft up allow me to dial into my village theatre group’s committee meeting. I being Treasurer. Feigning a modicum of interest in village activities thousands of miles away for an hour as I admire the view. It being 8pm UK time. Lunchtime here.

Further foray just north of Squamish to the Watershed Grill on the Squamish River. Photos below. Virgin River fans will recognise it as Jack’s Bar.

The area is known as Eagle Run. River is a breeding ground for salmon. Eagles love nothing better than fresh salmon plucked out of the river. Four soar overhead. Impressive sight as they float on the thermals.

The drive back to Vancouver should take about 90 minutes. But. This doesn’t take account of rush hour traffic. Or accidents. Queue for the Lions Gate Bridge. And queue. Don’t do queues. Divert away and back on to Highway 1 to drive over the Ironworkers Bridge on the eastern side of Vancouver. Because that will be quicker. Won’t it.

Well it would have been. Were it not for another accident. And rush hour traffic.

Eventually drive through the dock area east of Downtown. Jeez. Another side to Vancouver.

Things don’t improve turning on to East Hastings Street leading to the city centre.

Jeez.

Hundreds of homeless camped out on the street both sides. Some in tents. Some in dens. Some so spaced out on drugs acting all statue like in weird poses. Some just comatose looking dead on the pavements.

It’s like driving through a scene of some dystopian Zombie Apocalypse film.

Ensure car doors are locked.

In complete contrast, a couple of hours later find myself having dinner in one of Vancouver’s finest restaurants (Five Sails) enjoying a foie gras custard amuse bouche, scallops with an nduja emulsion and herb crusted halibut plus a few rather nice glasses of white wine.

With the most amazing view of the harbour and Grouse Mountain. Oh yes. Rather be here than spaced out on East Hastings Street. This is why I work.

Waiter is from Yorkshire. Tha knows.

A person, we’ll call it Deirdre, in a silver sequined jacket, short skirt and heels is shown to the table just in front and to the side of where I am. Well made up with lipstick, powder and paint.

Judging by the gruff voice, Deirdre could have been a Derek in a former life.

Looks over to me. Smiles. And says hello. In a seductive manner.

Oh bloody hell.

Spend the rest of the meal cowering behind a convenient column between us.

Tuesday is the final day in Vancouver. And possibly the last of the blog if there is no internet in remote Arctic waters. What’s that I hear. Hooray is it?

Have to change hotel from the Pan Pacific with amazing views (have I mentioned the amazing views before) to the Hyatt Regency. Why. You may ask. Well. The Hyatt Regency is the holding hotel for the Hurtigruten.

Given an information pack. And confirmation of departure time tomorrow morning.

Wait for it.

Those who know me know I don’t do mornings.

Departure at 4AM!!!

What the?!?

Jeez.

Someone will be a grumpy little ogre in the morning.

Oh wait.

That’ll be me!

NWP 5. Wile E Coyote

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17 & 18-Aug-24 Vancouver

Amazing clear and sunny sky as I pull back the curtains. The clear sunlit view from my room of the harbour and Grouse Mountain is something I’ve been looking forward to seeing again since I last came here in June 2019 on my Antarctica to Alaska trip. Something to feed on over the dull grey English winter months.

This part of the trip isn’t really a holiday as I have some business commitments to contend with over the next few days as a deadline looms large on Monday. However. It’s a glorious blue sky day and after a morning’s work I’m in need of a walk.

Just a short walk along the sea wall to the marina and back to stretch legs and get some Vitamin D from the sun.

Just a quick half hour.

Five miles and four hours later in 27C heat I make it back.

Sunburnt.

Dehydrated.

Having got to the marina, realise it’s only a short walk across the Stanley Park peninsula to English Bay. And then I remembered there was a nice ice cream place a bit further up. Which is a lot further along than I recalled. Standing out somewhat as I’m wearing walking boots and fully clothed as I walk along. Compared to all the bikini clad and trunk wearing sunning themselves on the crowded beach. But they’re not going to the polar region are they. Bet they haven’t packed arctic gear in their bags for their summer holidays. No. But I have. Beach holidays would kill me.

Ferry from Hornby Street pontoon to Granville Island. Change. Ferry to Plaza of Nations. By ferry I mean a small floating thing you could play with in your bath. It’s that small. Another walk through the back streets passing many drug addled homeless. Jeez. Vancouver has gone downhill.

The following morning discover Holland America’s Noordam docked below my window. Regular readers of the Antarctica to Alaska blog (elsewhere on this website) may remember that this was, by necessity, my first ever cruise ship. What was anticipated to be my idea of hell turned out to be brilliant. It brings back very happy memories.

Unlike yesterday, the weather is dreadful. Grey. Low cloud. Rain. Never been in Vancouver when it’s been miserable. Vancouver has always been a sunny place when I’ve been. This won’t do at all. Fortunately work commitments keep me inside until it clears at lunchtime.

In need of a haircut before I board ship for nearly a month. Ask for a Grade 4 all over. Checking this time the length of a Grade 4 in Canada is the same as in the UK. Lessons have been learnt, dear reader. Last summer in Berlin asked for a Grade 4 in some Turkish barbers shop. Normally it’s about 15mm long. This was…1mm. Yes. You read that right. One millimetre. I looked like a skinhead. Miss Braunschweig collapsed in laughter when she saw it. It was that bad. So now ensure a Grade 4 is what I know Grade 4 to be.

Barber is the quiet type. Which is good. Can’t be doing with inane chit chat having haircut.

“Are you on your lunch break?”

“Going anywhere nice for your holiday?”

“Had a good weekend?”

And then. He peers rather too closely at my face full on.

And says, “Hmmm…sideburn is 1mm too high.”

Now when he refers to my sideburns, it makes me sound like Amos Brearly (licensee and proprietor of the Woolpack Inn, in Emmerdale Farm – a British TV soap). But those who know me will be laughing. I couldn’t be more different to Amos Brearly with my boyish good looks (ahem), fresh face and fair complexion. They’re still laughing.

Haircut. Tick.

Now lunch.

Sushi it is.

Excellent Japanese restaurant called Avo House at the end of Robson Street.

Young Japanese girl asks what I would like.

Could I have a Coca-Cola please.

Cucumber Roll?

No, no, a Coca-Cola please.

Cucumber Roll?

No, no. Slowly this time. A Coca-Cola.

Cucumber Roll?

Oh FFS.

C-O-K-E.

Aaaaah. Coca-Cola.

That’s what I said.

Excellent Dinosaur Rolls. Tuna, crab and avocado. No. Me neither. No idea why they’re called Dinosaur Rolls.

Now the cloud is lifting, continue on a walk to Stanley Park and walk along the sea wall to the Totem Poles. Passing the Nine o’Clock Gun. Ah so that’s what it was. Thought a bomb had gone off last night. Window in room flexed with a loud explosion. Peering out couldn’t see anything burning.

But it was the Nine O’Clock Gun. Fired at…nine o’clock every night. For nearly a century.

Originally so mariners could set their chronometers.

Cast in Woolwich, England, in 1816, it was brought to Vancouver in about 1894. And now points directly at my hotel across the water.

Around the corner in Stanley Park is the Totem Pole Park. A collection dating back to the 1880s. Totem poles are unique to the north west coast of British Columbia and lower Alaska. Carved from western red cedar, each carving tells of a real or mythical event. Eagle represents the kingdom of the air.  Whale the lordship of the sea.  Wolf, the genius of the land, and the frog, the transitional link between land and sea. The stuff you learn on this blog.

A footpath leads through Stanley Park back to where I want to exit. Rather than following the sea wall it’s through surprisingly dense forest. A sign at the start of path says…Beware of the Coyotes.

What?!?

Further advice is to ‘Be Big, Brave and Loud.’

Hmmm.

Can do Big and Loud. No problem whatsoever.

Not sure about the brave bit as a coyote tries to gobble me up.

It goes on to say.

‘Stand tall with arms overhead.’

‘Yell “Go away coyote”’

‘Stand your ground and never run.’

So. Couple of points there.

Didn’t know coyotes could understand English.

I’ll be more ‘Roadrunner’ than standing my ground.

So there I am. Briskly walking through Stanley Park. Being Big and Loud.

If it’s not bears. It’s coyotes.

Come to Vancouver they said. It’s safe they said.

Upon entering the restaurant for dinner, am greeted by the most beautiful young woman.

Until.

She opens her mouth.

To reveal.

She’s chewing a large blob of fluorescent blue chewing gum.

Oh no. That won’t do.

NWP 4. Two soups

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15 & 16-Aug-24 Vancouver

Alarm call at 0700hrs for the 0830hrs train to Vancouver. Surprisingly no USA immigration checking passports just some young lad making sure you have a passport and giving a pink piece of card with a handwritten ‘V’ marked on it. For Vancouver.

Boarding soon after to discover the dirtiest train I think I’ve ever been on. Carpets heavily stained and worn. Seats equally worn and stained. To the extent that some look like someone’s died there. Very grubby. Very surprising. America doesn’t do trains. That’s a European thing.

Off we chug following the coastline to our left. Stunning views across the water to the islands I’d driven through a couple of days ago. Approaching the border, all are instructed to return to seats and remain there until a secondary passport check is complete. Mother of Chinese family in front has disappeared with passports in handbag. Inspector is not happy. Barks at them that they’re holding the train up. Don’t think so mate. We’re trundling along just fine.

Arriving Vancouver, the carriages are released one by one to avoid overcrowding on the platform and a scrum for Canadian immigration. Takes another hour from arriving at station to faff about.

Taxi driver tells me it’s $17 to the hotel and switches the meter off. Oh, OK then.

I’ve been to Vancouver a number of times over the years but its startling to see how many homeless are lying about in drug induced states of torpor. Quite staggering. It’s every street in Downtown we drive along. Not out of the way streets. Main tourist streets. Unbelievable.

There’s only one place to stay in Vancouver if you want a stunning view from your bed. The Pan Pacific Hotel (https://www.panpacific.com/en/hotels-and-resorts/pp-vancouver.html). With the possible exception of the Grand Hyatt Hong Kong (also looking over a harbour) this has to be one of the best views from a room (see photo below). It is stunning. Let me know if you have a better view.

Walking to dinner at an excellent Nepalese I pass yet more drugged up homeless. Might be dead for all I know but I’m not the caring sort to go and find out. DIY in these situations.

Don’t. Involve. Yourself

There was a glitch in the matrix last night as my NWP 3 blog post told me it had been published but no one had received it. So a further attempt tonight. Receipt is quickly confirmed by a very old friend. I have to qualify that she’s a very old friend as in longevity. Still young! Ish…

Very old friend (as in longevity) starts my day by sending a photo of two Belgian Buns, she’s just bought from Sainsbury’s. As a reminder of us both working in Loughborough on a construction project there in the early 1990s.

It’s where my international career began…

May 1995.

A Friday morning.

The young trainee Quantity Surveyor, Touring Taurean, is sitting in a site hut in Loughborough. His boss’s phone rings. Boss is on holiday so he picks it up. His boss’s boss is reading this laughing.

It’s Dave from the head office in Nottingham. He’s just got back from a business trip to Hong Kong working on a brewery project in China.

The young Touring Taurean, making polite conversation, asks how Hong Kong was. It was brilliant, says Dave.

Touring Taurean unwittingly replies, “Ah, I’d love to go there.”

Dave replies, “Would you?”

Oh yes, say I. I’d go tomorrow.

“Can you go Monday?”, says Dave.

WHAT?!?!?

“Can you go Monday? Well actually, you’ve got to fly to Vancouver first, to spend a couple of weeks with the mechanical engineers and then fly from Vancouver to Hong Kong to assist with the materials procurement. It’ll be Business Class flights and five star hotels. Is that alright?”

WHAT?!?!?!

I’m 25 years old.

What an opportunity.

And so began my international career.

In Vancouver.

Hence a sentimental attachment to Vancouver.

Never looked back. And had a very nice life out of it. Thank you very much.

The boss whose phone I answered back then very sadly died just before I departed for this trip. RIP Oz. Thank you for everything.

Having been following a blogger rowing the North West Passage (www.berkeleysquarebarbarian.com/tag/northwest-passage-expedition) with three others on a small boat called Hermione, I was reminded that it’s mosquito season when I saw a video he’d posted of a cloud of mosquitoes whining about. Decide a mosquito face net would be a wise decision. Makes me look handsome. Already have lethal amounts of DEET in my bag for prevention but nothing for cure. Pharmacist directs me to buy some hydrocortisone cream. But the pharmacy also sells Cadbury’s Fruit & Nut. And spicy Pringles. $50 later…

I don’t have breakfast usually but as it’s included in the room…

Overdosing on crispy bacon, eggs, mushrooms, toast, butter and pastries at breakfast I am still full at lunch so decide on a small bowl of soup to keep me going.

It’s a bakery sort of place with seats. Order the roast garlic and tomato soup. Then see a nice looking pretzel. And I’ll need a Coke too.

It’s a busy lunchtime crowd. Seating demand far outweighs supply.

I’m expecting soup a la Pret a Manger. In a plastic beaker. Which is easy to drink out of.

But no.

It’s soup in a large bowl. On a plate. With a large piece of toasted sourdough. And the smallest spoon known to man.

Like a Crackerjack contestant, left hand has plate loaded with a pretzel. Because no one mentioned the soup came with sourdough toast. Left hand also has a can of Coke. Shirt pocket is rammed with napkins. Wooden knife. Straw. Wooden spoon. Because no one mentioned the soup came with a tiny teaspoon.

Right hand has a large brimfull bowl of soup on a tracing paper type sheet on a plate. Tracing paper sheet acts as Teflon. On same plate is a large piece of toasted sourdough cut in half. And a pot of butter.

I am fully loaded and balancing plates left, right and centre. Making sure soup does not spill. Making sure pretzel does not slide off. Making sure Coke does not slip out of fingers simultaneously holding pretzel plate.

Searching for a vacant seat. So I can sodding eat.

Ah ha. There’s one.

Ask the girl adjacent if table is free. She confirms it is. Despite some detritus still on it. So. Hands full. I try and sit down on a cramped bench.

It’s at this point things start to slip and slide.

Bench is lower than expected. Sit down with a jolt.

And I see a bowl of tomato soup starting to slide towards my clean blue shirt.

With the corrective action of my right arm to stop soup spilling, my left arm counteracts.

Newton’s First Law kicks in.

Pretzel now starts sliding in the opposite direction to me. Which is fortunately caught in the nick of time.

Plates placed on table.

Phew.

That was close.

And then.

Some young woman arrives at the table. It’s her table. Not mine. The detritus is actually her half eaten lunch. She’d just gone to get a napkin.

Oh FFS.

I have to vacate.

Very carefully, I load up plates, Coke and cutlery.

And find another seat at a counter type table.

Soup finished.

Time for a drink.

Can is opened.

In all my decades of having a can of Coke with a straw it has been completely passive.

So you’ll imagine my surprise when putting straw in can, the contents squirt out through the straw like some ejaculation all over the sodding place. Thinking that was it there’s a further eruption through the ring pull opening. Frothing Coke everywhere even more. Unbelievable.

Sometimes whilst travelling you feel like a ‘picky tea’ as Jane McDonald (BBC Radio 2 presenter for our international readers) would say. In need of some wine, fresh baguette, cheese, salami, olives and such like, head to Granville Island market.

For some reason today, I must have had about six strangers turn to me in the street and say, “You’re so tall!”. Admittedly the first was the five foot housekeeping maid who I nearly ran into in the hotel corridor this morning and gave such a fright to as she came out of a bedroom as I was walking down the corridor. She looked genuinely scared and frightened at my height. Which with my walking boots on and a spring in the step I’m approaching 6’8”.

Queuing at the cheese counter in the market some woman turns to me and says, “You’re so tall!”

Hot and bothered. I snap.

“Would you go up to a disabled person and tell them they’re disabled?!”, growls the irritated Taurean.

She shrinks back and realises the error of her ways.

Back at the hotel I get in lift at street level. Reception is another level up. Doors open. Three old folk with suitcases. One is on a motorised mobility scooter. Think Madge Harvey in the TV series Benidorm. It’s that.

Two get in lift and thinking she’ll follow them straight in. But no. She dilly dallies. Trying to position her scooter so she can drive in to lift. Lift doors start to close because she’s mucking about. I stick arm out to stop doors closing. They do.

Briefly.

She’s now half in.

Doors start closing. I’m wafting my arm trying to alert the sensors there’s an object in door. My arm. On every occasion in a lift. This works.

But. For some inexplicable reason this time it doesn’t.

Doors are closing with my arm about to be crushed. I like to think I’m a reasonably strong bloke but am quite surprised how forceful the doors are. And with my arm still in the door trying to set a sensor off and physically trying to stop door closing, I am now swept sideways.

Which wouldn’t be too much of a problem if I had a spot to place foot to steady myself.

But said spot is taken up with a mobility scooter.

I have all on to stop myself being swept across and collapsing on to Madge.

You couldn’t make this stuff up.

So you’ll realise how nice it is to sit in my room with some excellent Affinois cheese, red wine and peppercorn saucisson, fresh baguette, olives etc and a bottle of Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon watching the sunset over Vancouver harbour and Grouse Mountain. Watching all the float planes coming home to roost. And Celebrity Summit departing for the Alaskan Inside Passage.

I could sit here all day watching the comings and goings.

When I retire…

NWP 3. Island hopping

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13 & 14-Aug-24 – Port Ludlow

And now for a magical mystery tour. I have nothing planned. No hotel booked for tonight. But I do have a car. Do I turn left or right out of the car park? I am a free spirit.

Do I go east inland? Do I go south towards Portland. Do I go north towards Vancouver? Do I go west to the islands? Hmmm.

I go north and west to the islands on an overcast and gloomy day. Low cloud blots out mountains. It’s dull and grey.

Turning off IS5 at Marysville, I find myself driving through the Tulalip Reservation. A federally recognised tribe and successors in interest to the Snohomish, Snoqualmie, Skykomish and other allied tribes and bands that signed the 1855 Treaty of Point Elliott. Nearly every house you pass has a RV parked in its driveway and I’m not sure if the RV is for ad-hoc use or someone is living in it full time given the detritus surrounding them.

Their website (https://www.tulaliptribes-nsn.gov/) states: ‘We agreed to cede title to our ancestral lands as signatories, which expanded to the top of the Cascade Mountains, north to Vancouver Island, and south to Oregon. In return, the treaty reserved the Tulalip Indian Reservation as our permanent homeland over which we have retained inherent sovereign jurisdiction.

Our status as a sovereign government maintains our right to self-govern as a “nation within a nation.” Including the inherent right as a government to raise revenue for our community. 92% of our services are funded from tribal hard dollars. These services included tribal member general welfare, family and senior housing, education, health, dental, and mental health services. It also includes law enforcement, fire protection, infrastructure improvements, and economic growth. Our tribal population is over 5,100 and growing, with 2,700 members residing on the 22,000 acres Tulalip Indian Reservation. We are located north of Everett and the Snohomish River and west of Marysville, Washington.’

The odd casino here and there helps.

Lunch at the northern tip of Fidalgo Island in Anacortes. Developed in the 1870s in the hope that it would be the terminus of the transcontinental railway, it was further developed in the 1950s with large oil refineries now blotting the landscape.

The main street looks like a typical late 19th century movie set. Something you might have seen in Back to The Future. It has that sort of feel to it.

Enticed by the Ghost Pepper Battered fish I soon realise that Ghost Pepper was in the Guinness Book of Records for being the hottest chili in the world.

I could still feel the spicy heat later that night.

Whilst having lunch ponder where to go next. There’s a ferry at 1445hrs to another island. It’s an hour away. It’s now 1315hrs. I can do this. So off I scoot in the Kia Sportage. Jaguar F-type it is not. But we get there. Half an hour before I set sail. Not had time to reserve a spot so, along with about 20 other cars am on standby. Told it could be this boat, the next or the one after the next.

Ferry arrives. I count 60 vehicles off. By my reckoning, I’m about car number 55 in the queue. Our lane moves forward. Yes! We’re moving forward on to the boat.

Until.

Three cars to go…the barrier comes down. Sod it. Next departure is 1615hrs. And I wait some more.

It’s with some relief that I manage to get on the next ferry and by now decide I’d better find a hotel for the night. Thank God for Google Maps. Now at the stage of the day where I just want to get somewhere and stop so a little gem of a place pops up on my search, a short drive from ferry terminal.

Port Ludlow Resort (https://portludlowresort.com) is just the ticket. Balcony view of the marina. Decent restaurant and a cold beer. Excellent end to the day.

The room has a gas fire. The pilot light is less pilot more Bunsen burner. As I wake in the middle of the night for the obligatory 4am pee, startled to see orange tinged shadows from the pilot light dancing on my wall. Jeez, thought there was a ghost!

Morning brew on the balcony watching the goings on in the marina. A float plane lands and chugs up to the dock. Birds soar overhead. It’s a bright blue sky start to the day. The water laps on the shore. It’s just silence apart from nature. This is how every day should start. Memorable.

Enroute south pass through Port Gamble. A charming little collection of old timber houses developed in the 1850s to support the lumber mill which had been set up to serve the region as lumber from New England was in short supply due to increasing demand. It became the longest running mill in North America and shipped lumber all over the world.

It’s noticeable as I head further south that there’s a lot more big houses lining the shore. Must have magnificent views of Puget Sound from the back gardens. Bainbridge Island is definitely more upmarket and across the water from Seattle. It’s where pickleball was invented in 1965 (the stuff you learn). This is where the wealthy live and there’s a nice relaxed feel to the place.

Last came here in 2019 on my Antarctica to Alaska trip so drop by the Bay Hay and Feed farm shop and garden centre for lunch as it was a flying visit last time and warrants another stop.

Much larger ferry back to Seattle so plenty of room and again only half an hour journey. Drop off car at Hertz and suddenly realise I’ve not filled up with petrol. Oh ‘eck, this is going to cost. Bloke at counter is Russian and very friendly. We do a deal. $17 to fill her up. Saves faffing.

Overnight stop at the Embassy Suites (https://www.hilton.com/en/hotels/seapses-embassy-suites-seattle-downtown-pioneer-square/) next to King Street Station. Perfect for an early morning train to Vancouver. Perfect views over the Seattle skyline and Puget Sound.

Dinner in the local restaurant. A homeless looking man is at a table nearby eating dinner. Naturally assume it’s the restaurant doing some community service feeding the homeless. But not too enamoured having to eat next to an unwashed homeless man with his long grey straggly hair and equally long straggly grey beard. Wearing shorts and sandals and a vest. Scruffy.

So you’ll imagine my surprise when he pulls out a leather wallet and produces a credit card to pay for meal. Perhaps not homeless after all.

We should never judge.

But we do.

NWP 2. PUBIC

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11 & 12 August 2024 – Seattle

It’s a leisurely couple of days pootling about Seattle as I gently adjust to BST minus 8hrs. Meander into downtown passing the unwashed camping out on the pavements. An increasing problem in every city centre you go to these days.

Uncle Tom Cobleigh and all are milling around Pike Place Market, the main tourist area in downtown. A collection of arts, crafts, restaurants and fresh food attract the many to the extent that it’s overcrowded and difficult to walk freely.

One of the main attractions is the fresh fish stall. You’d think a rock star was in town judging by the number of tourists with mobile phone cameras out videoing proceedings.

And what do they video?

Flying fish.

Fishmongers throw fish from the ice display to the counter a good few feet away so it can be weighed, wrapped and sold to the customer. Quicker than walking to the counter with fish in hand. And, of course, more entertaining. See video below. Having seen this before, experience has taught me to stand clear so as not to be splattered in fish juice. Lessons have been learnt dear reader.

Along the market area is the very first Starbucks coffee shop. And if you like queuing for a coffee this is the place to be. All along the front are shops selling food. Each with long lines of queues snaking along the pavement and queuing barriers. Astonishing to see so many queue. Not one for queuing I venture into another market for fish tacos but even that entails a five minute wait. And as we all know, there is no clean way to eat a fish taco. Sauce and juice dribbles everywhere. Classy.

Of course, the main tourist attraction in Seattle is the Space Needle. On a sunny weekend afternoon it is rammed with more long queues waiting to go up. So it’s late Monday morning when I stroll up and take the scenic lift to the top. Built for the 1962 World Fair it is recognisable the world over. Especially if you are a fan of TV show Frasier.

Lunch at the top with magnificent views is the plan. But there’s very limited choice. Chicken pie. Or beef pie. Beef pie it is. Piping hot it is not. It’s the sort of temperature between E-coli and botulism. With a dose of campylobacter. Nevertheless, it’s that or nowt. Hobson’s choice.

Descending to earth from the Galaxy Gold/Re-entry Red/Orbital Olive saucer at the top (yes, they are the genuine colour names…the things you continue to learn on this blog) I head off in search of Tom Hanks’ floating houseboat in the film Sleepless in Seattle. What should be a short walk to Union Lake turns into a trek.

The first thing I pass is a car park. The letter ‘L’ has been knocked over. It now reads PUBIC PARKING. Makes me smile and reminds me of an old 1960s-ish comedy film where the punchline showed a monument with the words along the lines of ‘By Pubic Erection’. Might have been a Bernard Cribbins/Charles Hawtrey type comedy? I did do an internet search for ‘pubic erection’ to find the name of the film but wished I hadn’t now.

The main road north out of Seattle has to be crossed. Naturally assume there will be a pedestrian crossing. Erm no. There’s a physical barrier preventing people playing Frogger (a 1980s computer game…). There must be a crossing further up think I. A mile later uphill I give up. There’s clearly no way of crossing. Outside the Catholic Hostel is a Lime Bike (electric scooter you can hire on a phone app…something I used regularly on many trips to Berlin until I nearly killed myself last summer coming within two feet of a car bonnet). The Catholics won’t mind if I use it. After some more riding uphill eventually an underpass to the other side. But having walked uphill for about a mile I am now some height above sea level. A steep staircase leads me down to the lake. Scooters are not made for concrete stairs and it takes some doing to stop it clattering on each step. Of which there are many.

Tom Hanks’s houseboat is apparently at 2460 Westlake Avenue. A collection of nice houseboats tightly packed behind a security gate. To keep the likes of me out. But after all that, somewhat disappointing that you can’t see the actual place as it’s at the end of the row, out of sight.

The afternoon ends with picking a car up from Hertz. We’re off on a magical mystery tour tomorrow. So mysterious that I don’t even know where we’re going yet!

NWP 1. First things First

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Originally, I was going to fly to Vancouver in Business but British Airways had a special offer to fly First to Seattle which was substantially cheaper. And a better flight schedule. So why not?!

Heathrow Terminal 5 has the added bonus of the Sofitel being attached to it, so an easy roll out of bed, a few steps(ish) and you’re in the terminal. All very relaxed. BA First has its own dedicated area so you can quickly waltz through security and into the Concorde Lounge far from the madding crowd. Of course, being the Concorde Lounge, there’s no scrum for the self service breakfast buffet like in the Business Lounge. No. This is waitress service. And a bacon sandwich is soon before me. Not usually one for breakfast but I will need something to soak up the soon to be quaffed champagne as I board the aircraft. Settle into my suite with oodles of space and leg room (ideal for my 6’5” heavyweight frame) sipping champagne. And relax. A bloke with a fluorescent pink Mohican sits opposite me. Can only assume he’s a rock star?

Like Hugh Grant in About a Boy, I split my flight into units of time. Champagne, relax and read The Spectator. One hour. G&T and canapes. Half an hour. Lunch. Two hours. Afternoon nap. Two hours. Film. Two hours. Afternoon Tea. Half hour. Read Kindle. One Hour. Arrive. Time really does fly.

Flying over Iceland and Greenland, it’s an excellent lunch of canapes, Canadian lobster, fillet of beef with a marrowbone crust, chocolate tart and cheese and biscuits. With a Tablas Creek glass of red which is rather moorish. This is the way to travel. Hard life innit.

Arriving in Seattle, fluorescent pink Mohican is clearly in a rush and races forward to the front exit to be the first to disembark. There’s only eight of us in First so not really necessary.

Except.

The airbridge veers to the middle exit door and we all have to turn around to exit through Business Class, who are first off the flight. Pink Mohican is now the last of the last.

Like lemmings we all follow the lead group down the terminal corridor. A woman ahead stands in the main corridor waiting for someone thus blocking off about 25% of the width of main corridor. Lead bloke in our pack turns right assuming ahead is a dead end because woman is blocking part of corridor. We all follow down a side corridor. About 50 of us by this time. Until…lead bloke realises he’s made a boo-boo and it’s a dead end. 50 people no doubt collectively and silently think ‘bozo’. And we all turn around. Realising that we should have continued straight on.

We’re all in a closed pack now but not wanting to trip over my neighbours I surge forward like Lewis Hamilton starting 11th on the grid at a Grand Prix weaving between legs and luggage. And soon find myself as lead. Striding forward with my long legs.

Thinking passport control is just around the corner.

But it’s not.

No. That’s in another part of Seattle.

One of the longest escalators I’ve been on (bit like Kiev’s underground escalators) takes us up high to cross a bridge over the taxiway. And then back down again to another terminal.

What feels like a mile later, I arrive at passport control expecting long queues.

But no. There is hardly anyone about and I’m straight through to an Immigration Officer for the usual interrogation. Last time I flew to the USA in February in New York, I was hauled off to a side room for further interrogation as to why I had a tourist visa rather than an ESTA. Well, dear reader, it’s because I once had a holiday in North Korea (see blog elsewhere on this website). Like you do. Except this time Seattle immigration bod is really genuinely interested in knowing what North Korea was like and so have to explain how brilliant it was and don’t believe everything you read in the press. Satisfied that I’m not a North Korean spy, he waves me through with a cheerful thanks and goodbye. Not like New York immigration and those with attitude.

Taxi to the Pan Pacific Hotel (www.panpacificseattle.com) where I previously stayed on my Antarctica to Alaska trip (blog also elsewhere on this website) and a room with a view of the Space Needle.

Feeling surprisingly perky and awake I find I’m sleepless in…

North West Passage (test)

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Hello again. This is a quick post to test the system is still working after being dormant for five years. My last blog post was departing Seattle in June 2019. The world changed a few months later when covid and lockdowns restricted all travel.

But…I am now back in Seattle at the start of a new adventure. Next week I board the MS Roald Amundsen ship in Nome, Alaska, to hopefully sail through the North West Passage in the Canadian Arctic archipelago and arrive in Halifax, Nova Scotia.

The last time I was in Seattle, I had spent six months travelling from Antarctica to the Arctic. In 2010, and also on this blog, I travelled Around the World in 60 Days. The Canadian sector of that RTW trip was overland by train from Vancouver to Halifax, NS. I now hope to do Vancouver to Halifax via ship across the top of Canada and hopefully ‘circumnavigate’ Canada, so to speak.

Only time will tell as sea ice may prevent a transit through the choke point of the North West Passage.

This blog will obviously depend on a) internet access in remote Arctic waters; and b) something interesting happening. I’m not sure the first four days at sea sailing through the Bering Strait will provide much in the way of an interesting read…but you never know.

So, if you do not want emails for the blog posts being published, just let me know and I will take you off the list…not a problem.