It was more than 15 years ago that I first experienced Wreck Beach – a long recognised, well-established nudist beach in Vancouver – there’s even a book chronically the beach’s history.

A few months ago I returned for a second time to discover a more sophisticated beach – while still retaining its hippie heart – in it’s offerings of mixed drinks alongside a medieval fair of tents selling food, sarongs, massages and impromptu music. (Not too mention my swim with a seal!)

Nudism, I appreciate, is not for everyone. But that’s one of the first things that struck me about this inclusive beach on my first visit: that despite it being a nude beach you didn’t have to go naked, if you didn’t want to. Those patronising the beach were mix of ‘au natural’,  half-dressed and fully-covered in swimwear.

About the only thing that’s not excepted is to be fully dressed in street clothes. That’s just creepy.

All ages too were in attendance. I distinctly remember sitting next to a grandmother who was there with her granddaughter, and me thinking ‘how cool is that?!’  The range of ages gave the place an unparalleled sense of community.

The other distinctive memory I had from my first visit was how cool it was that the drink sellers wandering the beach were also naked except for their bum bag/change purse clipped around their waist. I don’t know why that struck me as odd. The alternative, had they been dressed, would likely have been odder.

Last month’s return was no less impressive.  In fact, it seemed the beach had grown substantially in popularity. Drink sellers were still there, still naked but for a change purse, but their menu was far more sophisticated than the beer and Cokes of yesteryear. Now it included mixed margaritas alongside gin & tonics made with brand labels like Bombay Sapphire.

The place had a lively circus feel to it.  A medieval fair even. With lean-to tents sent up along the back of the beach; their fabric walls billowing in the breeze. Here you could shop for food, sarongs, even step into a private enclosure for a massage.

For the most part people were naked. And I marveled how similar we all look without clothes. A revelation of sorts. “Despite our different sizes,” I thought, “we all have the same basic shape and it’s only clothes that draw attention to attributes – a bigger bust, a narrower waist – and accentuate our differences.”

There were a few clothed people on the beach – known locally as ‘textiles’ – and an even stranger addition: uniformed police patrolling, looking oddly out of place as they monitored alcohol consumption on the beach – which was illegal, and yet so blatantly indulged in. I found it confusing. But perhaps some questions are better not asked.

I played Frisbee with a friend, working up a sweat in order to bravely enter the chilly waters. (Sorry Vancouver, I’d love to say they were warm but bracing is the best I can offer.) Despite my whinging and the torture of slowly sloping sandy bottom, I did make it into the sea and was rewarded with a seal swimming within 5 metres of me. (I thought it was a dog at first and when I realised it was actually a seal  I couldn’t contain my excitement!)

The end to a perfect day? Almost! The cherry on the cake was the impromptu music/jam session we got caught up in before leaving the beach. Revellers were adding their instruments, their voices, or simply clapped to an impromptu beat and melody that was collectively contributed to and singularly enjoyed.

Ever since I can remember I have wanted to visit Churchill, Canada. It is the place to see polar bears. A couple of years ago, I was lucky enough to go:

An endearing little frontier settlement, sitting on the western edge of Hudson Bay in northern Manitoba, it is so remote it can only be reached by air or rail.

For six frenetic weeks each Autumn (October & November) tourists descend on the tiny town as the polar bears they’ve come to see start to congregate on the Bay’s shores.

While independent travel is possible most people sign up with companies like Frontiers North Adventures which offers a series of tours that mix and match the town’s attractions with a minimum of two days on the permanently frozen tundra. It is here the bears bide their time as they wait for the sea ice to form so they can go out and hunt seals following a summer of slim pickings.

Access to the tundra is via a Tundra Buggy – it’s hard to imagine a more awkwardly lurching vehicle. In fairness, it’s not necessarily the fault of the buggy as much as the tundra it needs to traverse. Essentially a big rectangular box on wheels (think classroom annex) with rows of seating for up to 40 people on either side of a broad centre aisle, lowerable windows, a gas heater complete with chimney, toilet, and balcony out the back for outdoor viewing. The massive truck-like tyres mean the buggies can climb over the rocky, wet and snow encrusted terrain but also provide a safe height that the bears can’t reach. But that doesn’t stop the inquisitive beasts from trying.

For the even more adventurous there is the Tundra Buggy Lodge. As its name suggests, the Lodge is in fact a series of specially outfitted buggies lined up like train carriages to form a lodge. Sleeping accommodation is also train style, with bunks on either side of a central hallway made private with curtains.

Stays on the Tundra Buggy Lodge can range from 2-5 nights. The clear advantage is that guests never have to leave the tundra to return to town accommodation and have the added bonus of being able to view the bears in their natural habitat whatever the time of day. The only downside: there’s no getting off the lodge for a walk about on the tundra. Despite their cuddly appearance, polar bears, particularly hungry ones, pose a serious threat to humans.

Spotting a polar bear in the wild for the first time, few can contain their excitement. It is often referred to as a life changing experience by those privileged few tourists. Even seasoned tour guides become animated with every new sighting as each polar bear exhibits a distinct personality. (Polar bears are thought to be as intelligent as apes.) Some sleep and seem blissfully unaware of the tourist intrusion, another might roll around on its back playing with its paws, while the lucky tourist will see two males sparing on their hind legs – a ritualised fighting that tests their strength as a warm-up to life on the ice after the long sedentary summer months.

Then there are the polar bears that need to satisfy their innate curiosity by leisurely ambling in their almost-clumsily plodding gait straight towards the Tundra Buggy. Rearing up on its hind legs, its paws placed against the buggy for support, it stares directly at you. It’s hard to look into the unfathomable black coal eyes full of curious intensity and not feel great responsibility for the choices we make and the influence we have over its habitat. It’s almost as if the Arctic King has personally requested you become his ambassador before he becomes the first casualty in a line of many affected by global warming.

First up, I have to ask: Who has missed a flight or conversely gone to the airport one day early simply because you didn’t properly look at your flight itinerary and thought your departure day/time was something entirely different from what it was? (Please share.)

This was the case yesterday for a friend who was certain that he was flying to Europe that evening – having taken the day off in preparation for his departure – only to discover he’d got the day wrong when he tried to check-in online. The computer said “No”. His flight wasn’t until the next day.

Obviously, it’s better to mistakenly think you’re flying one day earlier than one day later, but rather than get frustrated or disappointed things weren’t going to plan, we embraced the day and ensured that his holiday started right on time – only here, at home, in Vancouver. (He could do that ‘European thing’ tomorrow.)

And so we embarked on a day of excellent adventure.

First up, a rollerblade through the stunning Lower Seymour Conservation Reserve – a very cool out of the way park on Vancouver’s east North Shore. Essentially an old logging road that’s been paved over it cuts straight through tall growth forest. For cyclists there are plenty of other dirt paths on offer that meander through the woods and along the river, but as bladers we kept to the well-maintained central paved path.

A 10 km one-way road (with no loop, so you have to return the same way), we virtually had the place to ourselves. Blading through the forest was a treat and a good workout with a number of challenging uphills (more so on blades than a bicycle) along with the thrill of racing down the other side (experienced and confident bladers only). We went 5 km in and turned back for a 10 km round trip. Apparently, it’s not uncommon to see wildlife wander out of the dense forest on either side of the trail, but unfortunately we weren’t so lucky.

Next up, a must-see destination for anyone visiting Vancouver: Deep Cove. A sleepy little fishing town that feels more like a holiday outpost despite being on the edge of Vancouver.

One spontaneous decision later, we were strapped into a double kayak and paddling out amongst the impossibly-still, glassy waters to discover the true scenic beauty of Deep Cove and the Indian Arm River.

We heard word of a seal surfacing via the excited cries of other kayakers, but sadly every seal we thought we saw turned out to be a piece of bobbing driftwood. Still the beauty and stillness of the place overwhelmed. Large homes clinging to the shores were dwarfed by the fir-tree lined mountains above. Our brief tour up Indian Arm River was rewarded with mountains that folded into each other into the ever-bluer distance.

After circling a couple islands and skirting the coast for a sticky beak into the some of the lovely waterside homes we paddled back into Deep Cove after clocking up roughly 12 km … a well-oiled machine (more like well-saturated in sea water) – tired but setting a fast and rhythmic pace, intent on impressing any onlookers with our paddling skills as we glided back into shore.

A well-deserved pizza later we were on our way back to Vancouver, having not let something as simple as day gained due to a misjudged flight go to waste when there were holidays to be had. I joked that perhaps we should do it all over again today to ensure my mate slept on the long haul flight but he was happy to be back on track and let the excitement of today’s impending trip to Europe be enough to fill his day.

An aside: There was a time when I found myself flying via Vancouver from Toronto/New York back to Sydney with some regularity. Never one to let a ‘stopover’ go to waste, I would make a point of organising an earlier flight into Vancouver so that I would have enough time to leave the airport and get downtown. At which point I would rent rollerblades and go for a double circuit around Stanley Park’s seawall. It was a great way to stretch my legs between flights. I’d return the blades, return to the airport, hop on my onward flight to Sydney and be suitable exhausted to sleep soundly all the way home.

Found yourself with a unexpected day up your sleeve (rather like finding a $50 note on the ground), how did you spend your windfall? And what about misjudging a flight by either a day early or late? I’m sure there are plenty of stories out there, please share.

To date there have been 25,000 confirmed plant species, 2,500 fish (a third of the world’s fresh water total), 10 per cent of the world’s bird species, as many as six million insect species found and up to 2,000 butterflies cataloged. Is it any wonder that nature challenges the norm here?

The river itself pushes nature’s boundaries. Even after two weeks of exploring the Amazon, it’s still hard for me to appreciate the enormity of the largest river system in the world. The statistics are boggling. With 1,100 tributaries carrying one fifth of the world’s fresh water the Amazon’s Atlantic outflow is so great that fresh water is found some 200 km from the mouth allowing thirsty fisherman to drink from the ocean.

It’s hard to put in to perspective a tributary the size of the River Thames being referred to by locals as a stream! Or the fact that the Amazon’s largest tributary, the Rio Negro, is the second largest river in the world with a discharge three times that of the Mississippi, or greater than all the rivers of Europe combined  – yet it only provides 15 per cent of the Amazon’s total volume.

A highway made of water. A river full of soil, and a land full of river. Trees in the water and water in the air. Birds that walk on water and four-eyed fish perched in trees.

The Amazon river is the lifeblood of the basin. It’s silt-carrying waters a liquid highway for people and commerce. The river is much quicker and more reliable than roads through the muddy jungle. In fact, for many towns along its banks the river is its main connection to the world. From Iquitos, tucked 3,000kms inland from the Atlantic, it is faster to get to the ocean than it is to travel 1,100kms over the Andes to the country’s capital, Lima.

While the Amazon is navigable year round by local ships, cruise ships can only travel during the flood season which peaks around the first week in May and reaches a low around the third week in November. Not that the flood waters promise smooth sailing, the Amazon offers its own curl ball – due to the constant shifting of silt during the flood season, accurate maps of the river’s channels have a life of one month. 

It is this flooding that provides the Amazon’s cycle of life bringing nutrient rich minerals down from the Andes. The river, climbing its banks by up to 36 feet, floods the surrounding plain. Trees are submerged and fish have a whole new playground to explore. Birds like the jacana with it’s elongated feet delicately walk atop lily pads and graceful white egrets can be regularly seen riding the flooding meadows of water lilies down stream.

Cruising along the river and its tributaries during our daily Zodiac tours, the water became our hiking trail as well, allowing us to explore the vine tangled canopy of the jungle while below us fish perched in tree branches eating seeds and berries.

In the Amazon, as many as 200 species of trees and fish are interdependent for survival. During the wet season many fish rely on trees for food, and in turn take on the role of seed spreaders played by birds in other ecosystems.

One of these fish, the Anaplaps has been blessed with four eyes allowing it to see both above and below the water at the same time when looking for foliage food and watching for encroaching enemies.

Vegetarian piranhas; curious catfish and promiscuous pink dolphins.

But not all fish in the Amazon River feed on foliage. Famed for their ferocity you may be surprised to learn that while piranhas are cause for concern, of the 20 different species inhabiting the Amazon only five are carnivores. The other 15 are vegetarian.

A fish demanding more respect by wary locals is the candiru acu. A minute catfish, the size of a toothpick, it is attracted to uric acid and will lodge itself in a bather’s urethra by spreading its thorny spines outward once inside. Extraction by surgical removal is excruciatingly painful. Failure to do so can lead to death.

Oddly enough, another fish feared by the locals is the pink dolphin. Two kinds of fresh water dolphins inhabit the Amazon: the playful gray dolphin familiar to the West and unique to the Amazon, a larger, shyer pink dolphin which gets its amazing pink hue from numerous capillaries near the surface of its translucent skin.

Within Amazonian culture these dolphins are considered promiscuous, even evil. If a young, unwed village girl happens to fall pregnant a pink dolphin is often blamed. In some Brazilian villages pink dolphins have even been listed on birth certificates as the father to the newborn.

Pink dolphins are also recognized by locals for their aphrodisiac properties. In Belem’s exotic Ver-O-Peso market dolphins’ eyes are sold to young women as love charms that will entrap young men by simply pointing the eye in their direction.

Native villages with satellite dishes, huts with ghetto blasters. Oh! and opera in the jungle.

It is not all superstition and fancy for the 143 different forest peoples living in the Amazon. (An excellent natural history museum in Alter de Chao charts the cultural history of local Indian tribes which are rapidly disappearing.) Many villages have embraced the present – indeed one of the most curious sights while traveling down the Amazon are flood fending houses dwarfed by an adjoining satellite dish!

Fancy a spot of Opera deep in the heart of the jungle? Manaus, a city of one million in the middle of the Amazon, has been home to an Opera House since the turn of the century. Overlooking the city’s moldy high-rises, the Opera House stands as a testament to the wealth of European rubber barons during the boom of the late 1800s.

At the time, rubber export made Manaus the most expensive city in the world. A chicken cost $27 and a handful of carrots $9!. So wealthy were these rubber barons that rather than risk soiling their clothing in the muddy Amazon waters, they sent it to Europe to be laundered – even though it took two months to return.

A black river full of nothing and a white river full of mud. A wedding of waters that is never consummated.

Manaus sits on the Amazon’s largest tributary the Rio Negro. Referred to as a black water river, very little lives in it. It’s dark tea colour a result of the tannins left behind by rotting leaves. Oddly enough the café au lait coloured Amazon is referred to as a whitewater river.

Just down from Manaus, the two rivers meet but stubbornly refuse to mix for some 20 km – running side by side – their different colours forming a distinct contrasting line in the river. It is the volumes of water of these two rivers meeting that inhibits the consummation of this wedding.

Trunkless trees. Walking trees. Rubbery trees. Chocolate trees. And a popular food plant full of cyanide.

The jungle is as much a part of the Amazon as it’s river. The rainforest teems with life on all levels, from the jungle floor to the canopy. Trees, with buttresses large enough to engulf a person, strive ever upwards to the light; clinging vines and climbing figs go along for the ride – often overtaking and strangling their host but leaving a crisscross construction of vines that create a trunkless tree.

As the competition for space in the canopy becomes fierce, the walking palm uses its external roots to slowly ‘walk’ around the jungle in search of light by literally picking up its roots and moving on.

Rubber trees still abound. Trunks crisscrossed with scars, evidence they are still being tapped for sap. Chocolate trees also grow in the jungle. Although, their green pod-shaped fruit looks nothing like the sweet brown bars we in the West have come to love.

Locals instead prefer a diet staple of manioc – a native plant full of cyanide. Much time and energy is spent drawing out the deadly cyanide harbored within. The plant is first squeezed and pressed to remove any moisture and is then slowly fried in large, shallow communal pans. The result a yellow floury substance resembling corn maize.

Frogs impersonating monkeys, and monkeys squirreling away in trees. High diving lizards. Ant protected plants. Tree eating ants. Vampire bats, pig-sized rats and rhinoceros-sized beetles. Not too mention, a fingernail filing fish!

The Amazonian fauna is equally as deceiving as it’s flora. One whooping sound echoing around a small flooded field we had ventured into led us to believe that a monkey was nearby until our guides explained that it was the deceiving croak of a frog.

On the other hand, we were regularly treated to flashes of Squirrel Monkeys playing in the canopy. Easily heard but too quick to be seen

Another sound regularly startling us on our daily Zodiac tours were large splashes in the water. The culprits? Dive bombing lizards, who climb trees in order to sun bake, but take the high dive into the river’s safety when threatened.

And what does a threatened tree do for protection? Many trees in the Amazon have their own line of defence: army ants. Some trees have made contracts with ant colonies by offering a home in exchange for protection. What this means to any hapless tourist or unsuspecting animal who happens to brush against the tree or worse yet, grab onto it for support, is an immediate onslaught of biting army ants.

On a jungle walk one day we came across a long line of large industrious ants dwarfed by their even larger load of leaf cuttings. Not vegetarian ants, but mold eating ants. The ants harvest leaves, add them to a pile of rotting leaves and feed off the cultivated mold.

Feeding off blood, the Amazon is home to the world’s only vampire bat. They land at night on sleeping mammals, including humans, making a small painless incision with razor sharp teeth and then lick the blood that flows from the wounds. Small concession to the fairy tales, the blood is not sucked.

Of course everything is big in the Amazon. Spiders become tarantulas. Snakes become anacondas. Beetles become rhinoceros. Well not quite, but the rhinoceros beetle is another curious Amazon oddity. Fitting in the palm of an adult hand, the black beetle has an up-turned nose horn that gives it its name.

The world’s largest fresh water fish, the Piraruca, also resides in the Amazon. But for this King of the River there is no dignity in death. Its coarse, dried scales are used as fingernail files by native women.

Nature challenges our perceptions in the Amazon. It is a world of wonders with much to explore and much that remains undiscovered. I never did manage to see the infamous Amazon warriors after which the region and river were named. But that’s because there never were any. Early European explorers mistook the tall Yagua Indians wearing grass skirts for the legendary Amazonian warriors that the Old World had convinced itself existed.

Experience # 901

Travelling to the coldest, driest, windiest and least inhabited place in the world to gape at floating ice cubes is not everyone’s idea of a holiday. In fact, roughly only 10,000 privileged people a year have the passion to venture into this eternal winter wonderland, but for those who do the rewards are great.

There is a timelessness about Antarctica that humbles even the most jaded tourist. From snow-laden mountain peaks, century old glaciers, tinged a striking turquoise from eons of compressed snow, slowly descend to the sea. Calving junks of ice regularly break from the glaciers falling into the water with a thunderous, echoing crack. Icebergs smoothed and shaped into sculptures of art by the lapping ocean frequently turn upside down when, undermined by the currents below, they become top heavy. Rotating in slow motion, cascades of seawater roll off their sides, before the berg slowly settles into a new position to reveal yet another aspect of nature’s craftsmanship. Uninterrupted by man, nature has been staging these spectacles without an audience for centuries.

Wildlife is abundant. Twice daily trips to the shore reveal penguin colonies numbering in the thousands – blanketing entire hillsides. Simply standing on the ship’s deck guarantees sightings of seals lounging on ice flows, penguins porpoising through the waters, and whales flipping their flukes to the sky before descending the depths in search of krill.

In Antarctica the silence is deafening; the absence of noise almost haunting. It is cold, isolated and untouched. And as many passengers comment it is hard to believe that they are actually here.

But they are.

Antarctica is still the coolest place on Earth to visit.

No longer the exclusive domain of researchers and scientists, Antarctica has become the playground of a new breed of tourist – the adventurer. For some it is a spiritual journey as much as a physical one for others it is simply the satisfaction of stepping foot on their seventh continent but whatever the reason Antarctica does not disappoint.

In fact the journey to Antarctica is half the battle. Passengers’ resolve to reach the last continent is tested almost immediately as the ship leaves Argentina’s Ushuaia to cross the notoriously rough waters of the Drake Passage where the Atlantic, the Pacific and the Southern Ocean meet.

Crossing the Drake takes two sea-tossed days, during which the ship is noticeably empty as passengers either brace cold winds on deck, seeking fresh air to stave off sea sickness, or find greater comfort sleeping through the illness in their cabin.

Arriving in Antarctica, the Drake is quickly forgotten by even the sickest, as at every turn the continent endeavors to impress.

Our first landing is no exception. Arriving on a pebbled beach populated by Gentoo penguins we are encouraged to sit quietly amongst them. Knowing no land-bound predators, least of all humans, the curious penguins pensively approach. The moment is magical when an inquisitive bird finally pecks at my extended hand trying to ascertain what exactly I might be. Humans are not regular visitors to his home so he remains confounded. But it is then that I clearly realise how otherworldly Antarctica really is and how privileged I am to be here.

Photographic opportunities such as the pecking penguins abound and make staying inside difficult despite the cold summer temperatures of -5 to -10degrees Celsius.

In fact, many passengers often live on deck to ensure they don’t miss anything that Antarctica has to offer, while others are content to watch the continent pass by through the panoramic windows of the ship’s bridge in climate controlled comfort.

After 10 days at sea passengers have rolls of finished film for developing, a kaleidoscope of memories moving within their minds, and a steady set of sea legs. All are glowing from their Antarctic experience. Many talk about having caught the polar virus. An addiction that can’t be explained, it has most passengers already thinking about when they will be able to return.

Best be quick if you want to see a polar bear in the wild. By some scientific predictions two thirds of the world’s polar bear population could be dead by 2050 and possibly extinct by the end of this century if global warming continues unabated.

In May 2008 the majestic polar bear – the world’s largest land predator – was registered under the Endangered Species Act (ESA) as ‘threatened’. Finally, said some. Not soon enough said others. While others still, questioned why? when polar bear numbers appear to be greater than they were 30 years ago.

The move is seen as a definitive sign of the times; particularly symbolic because the polar bear is the first species to make the endangered list as a direct result of global warming. Unwittingly, the Artic King has become the poster pin-up for climate change and now wears the emblematic crown of a planet in peril.

Those that welcome the designation see it as a victory for climate change. As a path on which to start making legal inroads to instigate tighter environmental controls under the umbrella of polar bear protection. (Being listed by the ESA legally calls for the species’ habitat to be protected and preserved with strategies put in place to ensure its population recovery.) But what one hand gave the other took away: with the Bush administration issuing ‘a special rule’ that the polar bear’s listing could not be used to limit greenhouse gas emissions, the very thing responsible for global warming, and the main reason for the loss of Arctic sea ice, the polar bear’s hunting habitat.

A political pawn, it remains to be seen whether the polar bear will be given the full protections that other species receive under the act.

Already Sarah Palin, the former Republican VP candidate and current Governor of Alaska has sued the government to prevent polar bears from being sheltered by the ESA claiming that the protections the act would offer would regressively impede Alaska’s right to drill for oil. But without the full protection and recognition of ESA, the polar bear’s habitat will continue to melt and the predictions of extinction a very real possibility.

Hunting Habitat

To understand why the polar bear is ‘threatened’ you must first understand how it hunts for its primary food source: the ringed and the bearded seals.

Each autumn, starting from the beginning of October through to mid-November the planet’s southern most group of polar bears gather on the western shores of the Hudson Bay, near Churchill, Manitoba, Canada.

Dubbed the polar bear capital of the world – it is the only human settlement where polar bears can be observed in the wild. It’s also one of the world’s best studied groups – that has seen a scientifically documented decline of 22% since 1987.

It’s here where freshwater rivers empty out into the saltwater bay that the sea ice starts to form first – aided by a number of long finger-like isthmuses stretching into the water that serve to collect and compact the newly formed sea ice.

Once frozen the ice not only provides a means by which to travel out to the ocean, extending the polar bear’s hunting grounds, but also serves as hunting platform and a place to consume its prey. Although great swimmers, known for their endurance in the frigid waters, the polar bear is still no match for the torpedo-like speed of seals. Instead, the polar bear patiently lies in wait (sometimes days at a time) by a breathing hole in the ice. When a seal emerges, with one deft (and lucky) strike of its hooked claws, the polar bear hauls the seal up onto to the ice to devour it.

But because of global warming the ice on Hudson Bay is forming later and later each year, as well as breaking up and thawing earlier each Spring – significantly shortening the time the polar bears have to hunt, feed and most importantly bulk up to make it through the long seal-less summer. Since the polar bear doesn’t hibernate in its off-season, but instead fasts, making meagre meals from berries and seaweed, the amount of food it consumes during the winter months is integral to its good health and even survival through the summer.

And while across the five polar bear nations (Canada, US/Alaska, Russia, Denmark/Greenland, and Norway) there are more polar bears than 30 years ago (a fact attributed to hunting restrictions in the 70s) the fate of the Hudson Bay polar bear is seen as predicative of what other polar bear populations can expect if global warming trends continue. Today’s Hudson Bay bears have six weeks less feeding time than they did 30 years ago. As a result the bears are smaller and weaker according to Polar Bears International, a conservation organisation intent on saving these Lords of the Arctic through its research and education. With each hunting week lost to global warming equating to as much as 10kg/week lost in all-important weight, the polar bears are becoming leaner and scrawnier by the time the following winter sets in.

For females, the fate is worse. For a female to fall pregnant she must have roughly 180kg of fat for the pregnancy to commence – without that, the egg is reabsorbed and she’ll have to wait another cycle. If she does become pregnant, she will be required to fast for up to seven months over the winter’s hunting months, only emerging from the maternity den in March. This shortened hunting season is crucial to her – more seals mean more milk, giving her cubs a better chance of survival through the impending summer months. But with the sea ice thawing and breaking up earlier each year, her opportunity to hunt is becoming extremely restricted, ultimately compromising the condition of her offspring. As a result females are having fewer and less healthy cubs and the Hudson Bay population is in decline. With a lifespan of only 15-18 years in the wild there’s not a lot of time to reverse this trend before generations are lost.

Experience #2101

The joy of discovery. The thrill of stumbling across something new and feeling that this is your discovery. Yours, and yours alone. The people, if there are any, whether they be tourists or locals, they simply blend into the background while you make a personal connection with your newest find.

Today I discovered a new park in Vancouver. Of course as its ancient trees would attest it’s been there for eons but today was my first introduction and I was giddy with excitement as I raced my bike with child-like fervour and abandonment for the consequences of my speed along the winding paths. Eager to get deeper and deeper into the forest of towering trees, away from any sound of civilisation, be it car or construction, and yet at the same time amazed by the very fact that I was surrounded by a thriving city and this its hidden gem.

What made it so special? I come back to the trees, the towering trees. The type that only the West Coast (or the Wet Coast as it’s aptly called) of North America can produce. They weren’t as thick as California’s redwoods – through which I have driven a car – tacky but thrilling none-the-less. But they were tall. Straight. A forest of enormous pillars that immediately imparted humility to those standing dwarfed beneath. And unlike other West Coast forests I have been in, the undergrowth was low – a testament to the age and supremacy of the trees I’m led to believe. They have established their dominance and right to the canopy above, the ferns below them are content to simply lay low in submission and act as ground cover.

The impressive state of the trails is also worth mentioning. The perfect place for non-mountain bikers to catch the biking bug; to realise why mountain biking is so much fun, but without the bumpy, muddy ride. I sped through the forest for the sheer exhilaration of it but you could just as easily take a Sunday stroll.

I had the Park to myself for some time. Just as I had convinced myself that this truly was my discovery – a forgotten patch of green amongst our busy lives – I came across a dog jogger, then a couple strolling. That’s ok, it may have been my discovery today, but it became our secret. (A secret I’m willing to share.) Besides, they were going off on different paths. Paths restricted to bikes and this only makes me want to return and investigate these other pathways in the near future.

Where: Pacific Spirit Park
How to get there: Map

To do or not to do? There is no question!: Go for a walk in the woods. Reconnect with nature. Walk in far enough to leave the sounds of civilisation behind. Breath deeply. Soak up with the smell of nature. Look for the intricacies of life on the ground hoping to reach the top.

Other forests worth exploring:

In Vancouver: Stanley Park, The Grouse Grind, Alberni (Vancouver Island)

Internationally: Amazon, California Redwoods, Monkey Forest in Bali

Where’s your favourite place to retreat to nature – whether in your backyard or overseas – and why?