So, we left Nelson to head to Kelowna (of Big White fame, and you'll hear all about that from John), and driving through Penticton some very funny landscapes started to appear.....
Thus far, Canada has been white and black, and a bit dark green. But decidedly monochrome. Suddenly, it went all brown....and yellow....and red!
We passed through a place called Osoyoos (really) which is called Canada's only desert, and it actually bloody is!! It's their wine country! (By the way, don't drink local Canadian wine. Bit of advice).
Osoyoos is basically on a huge sandbar at the bottom of the valley, and it's covered in vineyards and orchards and fruit growing spaces of all kinds!
To have come from icy snow-bound mountains down into some kind of small proto-Spain was pretty bizarre, not least because they build their houses like Spanish villas, complete with 'authentic' columns, arches, terracotta roof tiles and yellow walls etc!
Then we see this. Wtf?? Strange, confused town.
(Note, to get down into the valley we had to run a gauntlet of these high mountain switchbacks. But not switchbacks as you've seen them before folks, look to the far right of this photo and see the thing curve back round this cliff face!!!)
When we got to Kelowna we then drove the 68k to the hill, Big White, which was rubbish and I know John has written a...review of (!!), so I'll just say it's where I got the news about my knee from the ski doctor.
The long and the short of it, which you have probably heard from me or Chrissy/Jess etc, is that I ruptured my Anterior Cruciate Ligament (known to those in the know as my ACL - that doesn't include me by the way, I thought that was my elbow). Didn't hurt THAT much at the time, though you may have seen the pics of ski patrol bringing me down on a stretcher, nor does it hurt much now. But as the doc emphatically put it: 'Your ACL is gone. The ligament has been snapped in half. The nerve endings are all snapped. You have no ACL. So it wouldn't hurt any more.'
To achieve this diagnosis the doctor grabbed my left leg above and below the knee and attempted to separate it using not a small amount of force and a brisk sawing motion. From the apparently greater than normal degree of movement at the knee between the two parts of my leg (are you KIDDING, you could unhinge two sections of a coconut like that, man!) he ascertained that I had a '3rd degree ACL rupture.' Oh, I said. Is that bad? I think you've completely, and if not then almost, severed your ligament, he said. At this point I had still planned to hit the (green) slopes that afternoon, and teach John to ski by sliding next to him slowly. Could I ski? No, the doc said, looking at me like I was mental. (No comments please). I then interrogated him for about ten minutes as to how he could be so bloody sure about this ACL thingy. Couldn't I just have one unusually wobbly knee? Apparently not, and after 30 years looking at ski injuries he reckoned it was a pretty done deal. So he sent me for an MRI (still have no idea what that stands for - possibly Massive Racket Inside, judging from the experience) to prove it to me. One scary floral-flannel-pyjama-wearing, tunnel-like pneumatic-drill noisy MRI and another doctor later, it was confirmed. I have no left ACL. Good news is, I don't actually appear to need it! Weird. But sadly I have an 'unstable' knee (again no comments please) and so I have to wear a monstrous brace, soon to be featured! Good news is, in a kicking fight (oooh, maybe Ultimate Fight Club) I would be invincible.
We then drove from Kelowna to Vancouver, on a gorgeously sunny day through the Fraser Valley (massive great wide open country full of farms and horses, red barns and ranches). Also the surrounding countryside masked the smell of the poo van, because you really couldn't tell if it was us or the cattle. Here are some nice shots:
When we finally reached Vancouver, after about 200k of driving through the suburbs/surrounding smaller cities (bizarre setup, it's like a city that goes on for hundreds of kilometres!) we drove around for a while to see the sights. Seeking, as was patiently explained to me, 'the space bollock.' (It's a building that looks a bit like a spaceship if you are a pack of mullered journalists with a fixation on your goolies). We wandered the pretty part of Vancouver by Stanley Park, then drove to North Vancouver over a really really really high bridge to an RV park (note to all, do not try to drive a 30ft motorhome through downtown Vancouver in rush hour, that way lies madness) where we stayed for a couple of nights.
We decided that given my fear of heights and John's dislike of heights over water, that the Capilano suspension bridge (suspension bridge. over canyon. with river in it. you get the idea.) was a really cool thing to try. And actually, it wasn't that bad - normally I am so bad with heights I can't get up a stepladder (was nearly marooned in Serge and Trina's loft a couple of months ago!) but this was really good fun, and here's the pictures to prove it!
Me striking out bravely.
Christ, have you seen how high that bugger is?!??
Sod the photo, I am not going.
Oh ok, not so bad. La la la....
John in a pose of studied nonchalance.
The walkways between the trees were good fun too.
We also went to the aquarium, which I loved. John has been before, natch, but obediently followed me round, saving seats at the beluga whale show and oohing convincingly at the backflipping dolphins. Loved the sea otters, they had one little basket case who spent about 2 hours (we were at the aquarium for some time) sucking his paws and two which slept for the whole time, despite Chewy occasionally bumping them while they all floated around like furry little...well, floaters. I was peeved to find, however, that the only sharks in the aquarium were the sort you could have for lunch rather than the other way round, but I don't think they go in for Great Whites in zoos, so praps I had slightly high expectations).
John's fave animal. He said he could relate.
Vancouver skyline. 'S just pretty.
Back on signmania - this sign we found at about 1700m, in a mountain pass, up a gradient the van only just survived. I ask you.
Ah, the ever-present exploding truck sign. We don't know what this one means.
Water rat! Spotted in Kelowna waterfowl park, very pretty bit of nature reserve in the bay, unspoiled except for a yelling toddler on a bleedin plastic tricycle.
Satanic Vancouver squirrel that approached John.
I thought I had spotted a glacier and for a full ten minutes John kept quiet, then as we neared it and I started to get confused he told me nicely that it was in fact a strip of deforested land for the telegraph poles.
For anyone who has even heard John say the words 'Look, an eagle!' Just goes to show it happens that occasionally circumstances mean he's telling the truth.
