BootsnAll Travel Network
Add this blog to: MyYahoo, Google, Bloglines, RSS


Archive for the 'Americas' Category

« Previous Page
Next Entries »
« Home

Cable Car to Heaven

Saturday, May 12th, 2007

Banff Gondola

Yesterday was our last glorious, sunny day. It was just as well that a few of John’s colleagues decided to take the afternoon off; the conference was relentless, with overlapping sessions from morning to night, and the only exercise our boys got was the forty minute hike to-and-from the venue. While the route was pretty, it didn’t offer any of the glorious views from higher up.

A quick way to get a mountain fix around here is to take the Banff Gondola which runs up Sulphur Mountain, dating back to 1959.

I was dubious at first, but it was worth it. The omnipresent trees dropped away to reveal an unprecedented view over the mountains, all the way to Lake Minnewanka in the distance.

Banff and Lake Minnewanka

A kilometre-long boardwalk hugs the mountainside, leading up to a historic weather station on Sanson Peak.

Boardwalk, Sulphur Mountain

As we slowly walked along, golden-mantled ground squirrels were chasing each other across patches of snow (I can’t take pictures of wildlife with my camera, unless it’s sitting still. If I get our resident master photographer’s Flickr link, I’ll post the link here. Those pictures will take your breath away!)

The shadows were lengthening as we finally descended, and on the next morning, it was as if it had all been a dream.

Cloudy Mountain

Posted in Americas, Travel | 5 Comments »

A ‘Cloudy’ Day

Friday, May 11th, 2007

IMGP2627

Yesterday’s forecast was ‘cloudy’.

Seeing what that means in Britain, I decided to stay in town and do the laundry. But when I drew back the curtains that morning, glaring sunshine hit me from an azure sky. I had to squint to make out the majestic mountain backdrop (a sight that hits me just as much now as it did on our first morning, when I wasn’t sure whether we were in a motorway Travel Inn or wherever—until I drew back those curtains).

There were a few downy clouds behind the snow-covered peaks, but no grey in sight. I assumed that the forecast meant that the weather would deteriorate later in the day, but not so: ‘cloudy’ here seems to mean that the sun can disappear behind a white fluffy cloud for up to five minutes at a time, necessitating you to wait for that panoramic photo shoot. The weather held.

So, the laundry safely over with, I decided to shelf my plan to work on the novel and instead go for a walk.

One thing to be said in favour of Banff: it’s at the bottom of a valley covered in wetlands which are full of interesting wildlife and—above all—flat. Another pleasant surprise are the local hot springs. Near the marshes, they bubble back to the surface, and the warm water is lined with emerald green throughout the winter and is home to exotic fishes and birds year-round.
IMGP2612
[read on]

Posted in Americas, Travel | Comments Off on A ‘Cloudy’ Day

A Bird in Hand…

Thursday, May 10th, 2007

Tim Berners-Lee was today’s keynote speaker, talking about the future of the internet.

I wasn’t there—I was in the Greyhound on the way to Lake Louise (if web access at IW3C was any faster than that on a remote SE Asian island with only dial-up access, i could show you how very beautiful it is there). But we talked about the future of the internet yesterday night.

You see, I’m lobbying my husband on the Google privacy issue, which I ranted about on my LJ. While the people at IW3C engage in mutual back-slapping and hero-worship, talking about the history of the web which is all of about twenty years old, the dream is turning into a nightmare even as they speak.

I went to a talk and reception about the ‘history of the web’ yesterday, but I switched off as the speakers jabbered on and thought instead about birds.

On the way into the meeting (from a very panoramic smoking break), we spotted a bird hopping across the carpet. It had flown in through the partially opened double door. Fortunately, there were no other people around, this being a little-used side entrance.

However, as John approached it, the bird hopped into the adjoining hall, towards the crowded reception room. John entered through another door to round it up and I opened the entrance doors fully. Between us, we were able to shoo it outside, just as a Web Consortium committee member walked in.

“You two should be on the IW3C committee,” he said.

I was glowing with pride. Not many entirely non-nerdy Zoologists can boost both an Erdös number and an invitation to join the World Wide Web Consortium. But then John whispered in my ear.

“He’s only saying that because, if we can’t hurt a bird, we won’t hurt a committee member.

Posted in Americas, Travel | 2 Comments »

Canada Bound

Thursday, March 8th, 2007

Just when I was wondering whether I get to do any more travelling before Worldcon (there is the small matter of having to finish the first draft of my novel by then…), John suggested that I’ll tag along to the 16th International WWW Conference on May 8-12 in Banff, Canada.

This will be the first time I’m attending a conference purely as a spouse, but what the heck, the internet has gone above my head from around the time cascading style sheets and XML came around. Instead of attending boring lectures, I’ll be off to the national park. Heck—the place has snow in May! I wonder if I still remember how to ski…

Posted in Americas, Travel | 3 Comments »

Lost in the Floodplains, Aguaro-Guariquito National Park, Venezuela

Sunday, February 6th, 2005

I’m looking through some old journals, trying to piece together another story for BootsNall, purely to keep with the travel writing game while also working on my other blog. This one is from notes for a story which I never got around to writing for the wilderness women submission call. It follows on from an earlier entry on this blog (with better pictures).

The Llanos del Orinoco region is a vast area right in the centre of Venezuela, large swathes of which are flooded during the rainy season. We kind of stumbled across it.

(ca. 1700 words)
[read on]

Posted in Americas, Travel tales, Whale watching | Comments Off on Lost in the Floodplains, Aguaro-Guariquito National Park, Venezuela

A day on the river — with pictures!

Thursday, September 16th, 2004

This story has recently appeared on BootsNall, but I have now unearthed the original slides from the loft and it works much better with pictures!

orinoco.jpg
What do I remember about San Fernando de Apure?

Ants.

“Capybara con aroz”, the world’s largest rodent on the menu.

Piranhas that eat cigarettes.

Giant waterbugs, the size of my hand. The world’s biggest insects. They were swarming under the streetlights, expiring flapping on the pavement.

The best paella I have ever tasted. The first paella I have ever tasted.

The world’s finest rum.

San Fernando de Apure, in central Venezuela, was our haven between trips down the Apure and across the Orinoco looking for river dolphins (Inia geoffrensis). While we were waiting to arrange for a dug-out to take on a longer trip, we paddled around the local tributaries in a small aluminium canoe, pulling up on banks or drifting slowly down the current; studying the dolphins within easy reach of San Fernando’s urban comforts.

dayonriver.jpg

It was a calm day and we were drifting slowly, almost stationary, on a side-arm of the Apurito tributary which had widened across a shallow plain, almost forming a lake. It was a great day for dolphin-watching.

dolphinandshore.jpg

At first we had only spotted one animal, but as we settled down to our observations we soon noticed that we were surounded by a group of five or even more.

twojumping.jpg

In the murky water, their shapes remained invisible and they seldom extended more than their blow-hole and the uppermost part of their dome-shaped head above water-level, so we could not get a clear idea of how many there were. But I was sure there was at least one calf among them.

Engrossed as we were, with time we relaxed, sipping from our flasks and puffing on cigarettes while keeping an eye on the water.

johnrowing.jpg

I sat back and dangled one hand lazily over the side of the boat, flipping a butt overboard with the other. A shadowy movement just below the surface — the butt was gone. I pulled my arms up close. We stared at the spot where it had vanished: the water was mirror-calm once again. John dropped his cigarette into the water. The same thing happened. Barely a ripple had broken the surface.

“Piranhas?” he whispered.

We had seen them in the market only the day before. The locals catch them by simply tapping a stick onto the water and hauling them into the boat: fat, silver fish a foot long, covered in tiny scales, their gaping jaws studded with razor-sharp teeth. The dolphins eat them. Maybe that was why there were so many dolphins here.

“Probably,” I whispered back: “Let’s not dangle our hands in the water.”

boatandwhirl.jpg

We had gradually drifted closer to shore. That suited us fine, it was about lunchtime. I took the paddle and John steered the boat towards the bank. Chatting, I looked over my shoulder only to see him stare fixedly ahead, noticably paler. His lips formed a word but no sound came out. I turned back and found myself staring into the barrel of a gun.

The guy who trained the weapon on us at point-blank range wore a stetson, a chequered shirt and a miffed expression. No self-respecting bandito dressed like that. As far as we could surmise, he was on his own. He was the ranchero and we were trespassing on his land.

We spoke about three words of Spanish between us, so I doubt he could understand our assurances that we were students studying river dolphins. No matter — we had to try.

“Boto!” John explained.

The guy fixed me for a moment with what I can only describe as an appalled stare before assuming a more menacing frown. I remembered that this is what the dolphins are called in Brazil, but not up here. He could not understand a word of what we were trying to say. Suddenly, I remembered.

“Tonina!” I cried. The guy’s expression relaxed at once.

“Estudiantes”, I went on: “Biologie.” I pointed at my eyes and slowly swept my arms across the river behind us: “Toninas!”

“Ah si.” The man appeared satisfied, but he clearly had us down as crazy. John indicated the boat and ourselves and pointed down the river. The man waved his gun dismissively; we were free to take our leave. This we did, paddling as speedily as the current allowed, all the way back to town.

“Boto” we would learn later that evening, is the local dialect for “hooker”.

dolphintail.jpg

Posted in Americas, Travel tales, Whale watching | Comments Off on A day on the river — with pictures!

« Previous Page
Next Entries »