Photos, photos, photos:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=131427&id=510568119&l=f682d2acdf
Other than a couple of brief snow flurries at Pretty River we'd had a fairly mild time of it weather wise, so it was a bit of a shock to the system when, having arrived at our next stop late at night, we woke up to find ourselves surrounded by huge snow capped mountains and a thick blanket of the white stuff. We'd come to stay with Rich's friend Mac at Lake Louise, the beautiful and tres swanky ski resort in the Canadian Rockies where he currently lives and works, and by the looks of things the season was already underway.
We spent an excellent few days relaxing at Mac's apartment, hanging out with him and his friends (an alarming number of whom already had an assortment of broken wrists, collarbones and shoulders from snowboarding), sipping cocktails at the impressive Chateaux Lake Louise hotel overlooking the frozen lake and glacier and generally taking things very easy. We also visited the nearby town of Banff where I had my first taste of the local delicacy, the Caesar. If you imagine a drink made from tomato and clam juice (called "clamato" if you're keen to track some down), vodka, Worcestershire and Tabasco sauce, served in a glass rimmed with celery salt and garnished with a gherkin and a sausage, you'd probably think it was the highlight of a particularly vindictive stag party, but apparently people in Canada just drink them for fun.
Fortunately I recovered from my ill-judged sip of a Caesar in time to see some of the amazing winter scenery. We went for a hike through Johnston's Canyon where we saw (and I profusely photographed) frozen waterfalls, snow covered forest and enormous icicles. It was here that I found my new best friend - a contraption called Yak Trax (http://www.yaktrax.com/) which when slipped over the soles of your shoes imbues you with the magical ability to walk on icy surfaces without falling over. Never before has a girl been so happy as I skipped merrily downhill while all around me slid on their hindquarters. The next day we had a go at snow shoeing, which is a lot of fun but much more tiring than you'd think. (I also discovered that it's quite hard to return to a standing position if you crouch down to take a picture, overbalance and slowly keel over onto your side). All in all though, it was an excellent few days. Next stop, Vancouver.
Friday 8 January 2010
Wednesday 6 January 2010
The Art of Innkeeping
For photos of grown adults hiding in tractors click here:
Once we had got the hang of the farm work, and demonstrated that we were safe to be around paying guests at a reputable hostelry, we were let loose on the Inn itself and given a crash course in housekeeping. As you can see from the pictures, and the Inn's website http://www.prettyriverinn.com/ this is a pretty luxurious place, and everything needed to be just right. And so it was that we learned how to make a bed (in a manner befitting a bed with complex cushion/sheet arrangements that people pay to sleep in, in case my mum thinks I'm questioning her parenting skills), clean a jacuzzi, fold towels in an attractive manner and make swans out of napkins. If anyone's planning a trip to Canada I'd highly recommend paying Pretty River a visit - it's a beautiful place, set amongst the wooded hills surrounding Georgian Bay, close to the famous Bruce Trail. All of the rooms are impressive, but the Suites have their own log fireplaces and indoor hot tubs, and the Crofts are like small luxury apartments. With Paul and Linda's hospitality on top you couldn't ask for a better relaxing getaway.
For me, the best part of working at Pretty River was looking after the animals. Linda and Paul have 14 beautiful horses; 10 Icelandics, 2 Percherons and 2 miniatures, and they all have their own distinct personalities. There was Noni the rockstar stallion (see photos - he stands out a mile); Rogge his current ladyfriend and Queen Bee of the horses; Pippin and Frodo the miniatures (though not so miniature in character, Frodo is a little maniac and gleefully charged me one day when I foolishly stood in the same field as him); Nokkur the slow, wise one; Imagine the beautiful one; Baldur the headstrong baby and my favourite Hylton, the largest of the horses who gets bullied so badly by the others he has to have his own special meals to make sure he gets his fair share of food.
For me, the best part of working at Pretty River was looking after the animals. Linda and Paul have 14 beautiful horses; 10 Icelandics, 2 Percherons and 2 miniatures, and they all have their own distinct personalities. There was Noni the rockstar stallion (see photos - he stands out a mile); Rogge his current ladyfriend and Queen Bee of the horses; Pippin and Frodo the miniatures (though not so miniature in character, Frodo is a little maniac and gleefully charged me one day when I foolishly stood in the same field as him); Nokkur the slow, wise one; Imagine the beautiful one; Baldur the headstrong baby and my favourite Hylton, the largest of the horses who gets bullied so badly by the others he has to have his own special meals to make sure he gets his fair share of food.
Then, of course, there are the reindeer. Before arriving at Pretty River I was under the impression, nurtured by years of Christmas stories about Rudolph and co., that reindeer were cute, friendly creatures, kind to children etc etc. Apparently not. As you may be able to tell from the photos, reindeer are in fact quite intimidating beasties - particularly Gandalf the dominant male of the herd. He of the extremely large antlers was, we were warned, prone to pinning people against the fence at feeding time. and we soon learned that feeding the reindeer was something of a military operation. It took at least 2 people, long distance surveillance to establish when the coast was clear and a mad dash to get into the enclosure, grab the bowls and get out again before they realised what was going on. This was followed by a finely tuned pincer movement in which one of us distracted them by posting a couple of bowls through a gap in the corner of the fence while another scooted in behind them, dropped the other bowls in and then ran for dear life. Whilst we managed to avoid any unsavoury pinning incidents, one wily specimen did make a bid for freedom during a split second lapse of gate security. Never turn your back on a reindeer...
Finally, two of our best friends at the Inn were the dogs, Angus and Mac. Good old Angus was the wise old dog of the two - friendly and playful but at the same time the most laid back dog I've ever met. In contrast, Mac was the young upstart with (until a few days before we left) a crazy Oscar the Grouch style hairdo and a penchant for chasing and (unfortunately) taking out guinea fowl. As a result he now sports a fetching Hannibal Lecter muzzle whenever he goes outdoors.
All too soon it was time for us to hit the road again. Before we left, Linda and Paul treated us to an amazing day at a Scandinavian spa in Collingwood (http://www.scandinaveblue.com/) which was exactly what we needed after 3 weeks of hard work and several months of travelling behind us! We had a fantastic time at Pretty River, made some great friends and it was definitely the highlight of our trip so far. After a tearful farewell we headed for Alberta and our next stop the Canadian Rockies.
Fun on the Farm
For photographic accompaniment, click here:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=126148&id=510568119&l=9cb308e52a
As every good traveller knows, the best thing to do if you're looking to have a different travelling experience, to stay in one place for a while, meet some friendly locals and, well, save some money, is to go and work on a farm. Actually, this was news to me but it turns out lots of people have been doing exactly that for years. So, with the help of an organisation called WWOOF ("Willing Workers On Organic Farms") Rich and I found a farm/country inn to call home and workplace for three weeks and in return we were to receive room, board and the unique experience of being referred to as "wwoofers."
Being new to wwoofing we were slightly worried about the possibility of spending three weeks shovelling manure until the early hours, living off bread and water and sleeping in the barn with the sheep. Maybe at some places we would have, but at Pretty River Country Inn we felt like we'd found a second home. Together with Manu (our "chimping" French fellow wwoofer), Libby (resident ray of sunshine and hopeless romantic), Chris (source of all Inn-related wisdom and a huge NASCAR fan), Paulie (yoga guru and future reindeer wrestling champion) we soon got into the twice daily routine of feeding the horses, pigs, reindeer and chickens. Who knew that reindeer like beetroot so much? Once the early morning feed was distributed, we sat down to a hearty country breakfast cooked up by masterchef and main man at the Inn, Paul. This was usually whatever the guests at the Inn were having that day, which included smoked salmon, asparagus and scrambled eggs or Paul's legendary French toast.
For the rest of the working day we were given such a fun variety of jobs to do it often felt like we were at some kind of country style holiday camp. We picked apples from the orchard, made lavender and apple jelly, cut cedar boughs and festooned them with bows, bells and glitter to make festive decorations for the Inn, re-planted shrubs, constructed a vineyard, put up a fence for the horses, pressed apples into cider and helped get the farm ready for the winter. That's not to say it wasn't hard work though - after a few days I was aching in places I didn't know could ache. Then there was the day we had to send the pigs off to the Happy Sausage Holiday Camp. Getting 3 large and uncooperative swine from a quagmire of mud into the back of a trailer was certainly no mean feat and all we did was line the space between mud and trailer while Paul, Chris and Paulie did the chasing, wrestling and occasional falling over.
At the end of the day Paul and his wife Linda (joint Commander-In-Chief, mother to the Pretty River family and general superwoman) served up a proper home-cooked feast which we all sat down to eat together. In the evenings we had our own wwoofers' chill out area with access to more DVDs than we could watch, and once a week we were treated to a film of our choice at the local cinema. We even became honorary locals at the Admiral's Post pub in Collingwood, where we found fame at the pub quiz by coming from last place to first by virtue of Rich knowing the full names of all 4 Ghostbusters. After a couple of days the Inn felt like home, and pretty soon we didn't want to leave...
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=126148&id=510568119&l=9cb308e52a
As every good traveller knows, the best thing to do if you're looking to have a different travelling experience, to stay in one place for a while, meet some friendly locals and, well, save some money, is to go and work on a farm. Actually, this was news to me but it turns out lots of people have been doing exactly that for years. So, with the help of an organisation called WWOOF ("Willing Workers On Organic Farms") Rich and I found a farm/country inn to call home and workplace for three weeks and in return we were to receive room, board and the unique experience of being referred to as "wwoofers."
Being new to wwoofing we were slightly worried about the possibility of spending three weeks shovelling manure until the early hours, living off bread and water and sleeping in the barn with the sheep. Maybe at some places we would have, but at Pretty River Country Inn we felt like we'd found a second home. Together with Manu (our "chimping" French fellow wwoofer), Libby (resident ray of sunshine and hopeless romantic), Chris (source of all Inn-related wisdom and a huge NASCAR fan), Paulie (yoga guru and future reindeer wrestling champion) we soon got into the twice daily routine of feeding the horses, pigs, reindeer and chickens. Who knew that reindeer like beetroot so much? Once the early morning feed was distributed, we sat down to a hearty country breakfast cooked up by masterchef and main man at the Inn, Paul. This was usually whatever the guests at the Inn were having that day, which included smoked salmon, asparagus and scrambled eggs or Paul's legendary French toast.
For the rest of the working day we were given such a fun variety of jobs to do it often felt like we were at some kind of country style holiday camp. We picked apples from the orchard, made lavender and apple jelly, cut cedar boughs and festooned them with bows, bells and glitter to make festive decorations for the Inn, re-planted shrubs, constructed a vineyard, put up a fence for the horses, pressed apples into cider and helped get the farm ready for the winter. That's not to say it wasn't hard work though - after a few days I was aching in places I didn't know could ache. Then there was the day we had to send the pigs off to the Happy Sausage Holiday Camp. Getting 3 large and uncooperative swine from a quagmire of mud into the back of a trailer was certainly no mean feat and all we did was line the space between mud and trailer while Paul, Chris and Paulie did the chasing, wrestling and occasional falling over.
At the end of the day Paul and his wife Linda (joint Commander-In-Chief, mother to the Pretty River family and general superwoman) served up a proper home-cooked feast which we all sat down to eat together. In the evenings we had our own wwoofers' chill out area with access to more DVDs than we could watch, and once a week we were treated to a film of our choice at the local cinema. We even became honorary locals at the Admiral's Post pub in Collingwood, where we found fame at the pub quiz by coming from last place to first by virtue of Rich knowing the full names of all 4 Ghostbusters. After a couple of days the Inn felt like home, and pretty soon we didn't want to leave...
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