Well here it is...my last blog in foreign climes! I left Bellingham and the great new friends I made there, and hopped on the Greyhound across the border to Canada. At said border, a dodgy guy in a cap like mine tried to sneak across, so we had six or so border police run onto the bus and arrest him. That was fun. Then we breezed through to Vancouver, the mountains a great backdrop. In fact, it looks a lot like Seattle. I rambled around looking for a hostel for the last time (sob) and found it.
In said hostel I also found my first Geordie of the trip - lad called Paul - so the pub crawl was obligatory. Met some interesting folk as well: a few Irish girls, a Chicago musician called Gabriel and a few Glaswegians. It was a good night...but probably not the best preparation for the 'Grouse Grind' hike I undertook with Alec and Rachel's friend, Brittany early the next morning. It's stupidly steep, it was stupidly wet, and I was stupidly dressed in skinny jeans and Lacoste trainers. I was also stupidly rough. But we did it and it was a great feeling to reach the top in 1.32, a solid time. The fact an elderly man who had recently had a double knee replacement beat my time by two minutes takes nothing away from my achievement.
At the top we also found a grizzly bear enclosure with a couple of the big guys oblivious to the snow and seriously cold temperatures. I caught the seabus back to the hostel, slept, and then went to a great sushi place with Brittany called 'Tanpopo.' Then I dragged Paul out of bed for a few last night pints to see out my trip. My final day has been spent rushing around at supersonic speed to get myself sorted, though I did find twenty minutes to try the Canadian speciality poutine. For those who don't know, it's chips, gravy, cheese curds (plus smoked meat in my case), and it was as healthy as it sounds.
So here I am, just about to leave on the Canada line to the airport and the end of my trip. It has been incredible and I hope you've enjoyed reading about it, looking at my pictures, and speculating how damaged my stomach/liver are after more than two months away. I also hope that my flight to Manchester via Frankfurt isn't the disaster I envisage it being. So you should hear from me soon, possibly from Germany when I miss my flight, preferably from sunny Chesterfield when I'll need moral support to get through my return. Here's a picture at the top of the Grind - so long!
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