​When tragedy strikes cities around the world — in recent years in Paris, Nice, Miami, London, Las Vegas, and in far too many others — my first instinct is to make a B-line for them. I suppose part of me wants to make sure that tragedy hasn’t dimmed their lustre. Thankfully, the healing process always makes cities stronger, and I have no doubt this will be the case with Toronto, my home for more than 20 years.

Of course, since I’m already here, Toronto’s enduring greatness surrounds me every day. And IMHO, these 11 spots are where it shines the brightest:

Toronto Islands Park
A 15-minutes ferry ride from the foot of Bay St., the car-free and bike-friendly Islands feel like a faraway slice of cottage country. I’m especially fond of Ward’s Island, home to one of Toronto’s finest stretches of sand, the bucolic Island Cafe, arguably the best disc-golf course in Canada — E.T. Seton Park also has a superb track — and a community of whimsical cottages that’s straight out of a Tim Burton flick. Plus, few places are better for admiring the stunning downtown skyline.

St. Lawrence Market
I love visiting this massive covered foodie paradise on weekdays in the early afternoon, and making a meal of sampling the wares at the scores of vendors spread over the market’s two floors.

Horseshoe Tavern
I’m very proud of the fact that I’ve taken the stage in the same checkerboard-floored venue celebrated in the Tragically Hip’s “Bobcaygeon.” The ‘Shoe, along with spots like Massey Hall, Lee’s Palace and the Opera House, make Toronto the ultimate Canadian destination for live-music fans.

Hockey Hall of Fame
This 57,000-square-foot shrine features 15 exhibit areas cover everything from a vintage replica of the Montreal Canadiens' dressing room to an interactive area where you can snap pucks at a computer simulation of goalie Ed Belfour. My only quibble: Why isn’t an entire wing devoted to the Calgary Flames?

Canada’s Wonderland
I have a thing for roller coasters, and the country’s largest theme park has the Western Hemisphere’s greatest variety of them. There’s Leviathan, Wonderland’s tallest, and Vortex, Canada’s first suspended roller coaster. To quote a visiting cousin: “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!”

Royal Ontario Museum
I’m not really a museum person, but the ROM wins me over every time. Behind its trippy "Michael Lee-Chin Crystal" façade more than six million items are housed in 40 galleries, with world-class collections showcasing dinosaurs, Near Eastern, African and East Asian art, and European and Canadian history.

The Scarborough Bluffs
This 14-km-long sedimentary escarpment provides a dramatic backdrop for more of Toronto's best beaches, a network of marsh-crossing boardwalks, and an expansive marina that’s home to fishing charters that gave me an afternoon of salmon fishing I’ll never forget.

Kensington Market
Just west of Chinatown, this warren of streets takes its neighbour’s ethnic energy and adds a dose of bohemian style. Ramshackle storefronts house everything from vintage clothing boutiques to taco joints, while street performers swallow swords and do their best Dylan impressions for passers-by.

Distillery District
This collection of brick heritage buildings and cobblestone streets is transformed into a festive wonderland in December, and in summer practically overflows with outdoor patios. The Mill Street Brew Pub, for instance, pours more than a dozen house beers.

Ripley's Aquarium of Canada
For aquarium enthusiasts such as myself, it doesn’t get much better than the shark-filled “Dangerous Lagoon.” The 2.5-million-litre display is home to scores of the 450 water-dwelling species that call Ripley's home, and can be viewed from below via a glass-domed moving sidewalk that’s the longest of its kind in North America.  

High Park Zoo
Toronto is home to Canada’s largest zoo — which is fantastic — and this isn’t even remotely it. But set as it is in the city proper’s largest and best-equipped park, this free-admission menagerie is charming in its own modest way...kind of like Toronto in general.

Until the 14th day of March, oh great and robustly suspendered Nigel, my 2018 sacrifices to you had gone unanswered. I dined upon everything that pleased you in the past -- nachos, cinnamon buns, poutine -- but you favoured me not with heavy snows upon the slopes of skiing.

With each failed sacrifice I turned to fresh sustenance. Would chicken wings curry favour with you? Apparently not. Would curry curry favour with you? Again, not a single flake fell. Oxtail rotis? Sushi? Oxtail sushi? Sushi rotis? Try as I might, your new culinary predilections remained mysteries to me.

It was with a heavy heart that I dug deep into my freezer for something, anything, that might please your too-tightly-trousered magnificence. It was the Monday of March Break, after all, and my family was about to head to Stowe, Vermont.

That’s when I saw them, sheathed in plastic and bundled together with an elastic band. The wieners were quickly defrosted in boiling water, grilled in a pan, and served “à la Ikea” between two equally freezer-burned buns. It wasn’t much, oh fickle and surprisingly stout Nigel, but it was worth a shot.

Fat flakes fell furiously as we neared the self-proclaimed “Ski Capital of the East,” and I began to joyfully suspect that I had satisfied your latest craving. We all ordered hot dogs from the kids’ menu that evening, and lo and behold, we awoke to more than a foot of fresh powder. When I fist-bumped a complete stranger on the hill that day, oh yellow-mustard-preferring Nigel, it wasn’t only because of the sublime conditions. It was also because I had made my way back into your blessed favour.

Needless to say, before heading to Fernie Alpine Resort in early April, I joined my daughters in sacrificing half a pack of franks to your glorious, duosyllabic and relatively common name. Upon arrival, I witnessed a great omen -- Fernie’s annual Eighties-themed Hot Dog Day -- that foretold of many snowy days to come. It also foretold of some serious hangovers and vintage-store remorse, but that’s another story.

You again unleashed your powers of precipitation that night, compelling me to hike up Snake Ridge and glide down into Cedar Bowl the next morning. If that's what dining upon tube steaks gets me, oh munificent and elastic-waistband-requiring Nigel, I’ll renew my Epic Pass ASAP and see you at Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest in July.

Love,

Adam “Kobayashi” Bisby

Pity the parents who have yet to make a plan for March Break, which starts on Monday here in Ontario. I've been there: I still hear about the Arctic waters of the swimming camp we booked at the last minute, the soccer debacle with a single lonely ball, and the five days of French that were “worse than school.” Quelle horreur!

In our defense, choosing camps isn’t easy. Something that seems fun and enriching can turn out to be anything but. Consider these seven options: They appear to have it all, but as any experienced parent knows, appearances can be deceiving.

MacGyver Camp: Hosted by Richard Dean Anderson, this camp gives kids the skills to turn fallen satellites into hang-gliders and to safely defuse explosive devices by always cutting the red wire.

Cryptocurrency Investment Camp: Invest in your child’s future by giving them the tools to make bazillions of dollars by buying and selling Bitcoin, Zcash, Bunko and Ponz-E.

Asbestos Abatement Camp: Worried about those suspicious-looking panels in your basement? Turn your child into an abatement expert who can safely identify and handle asbestos for $275 an hour (plus HST).

“Sleepaway Camp” Camp: Perfect for budding slasher-movie directors who want to get into some seriously messed-up shit.

Cooking With Edible Slime: Is your child obsessed with making slime and MasterChef Junior? Combine their passions at this week-long camp hosted by Rachel Ray look-alike Ray Rachel. Be sure to make room in your fridge for up to 30 pounds of goo that looks and smells like pond scum, and tastes much, much worse.

Spanish Inquisition Camp: Designed for teens, this historically accurate recreation of the 300-year-long religious tribunal covers topics that are more relevant today than ever: Heretic expulsion, freemasonry suppression, dating etiquette, the list goes on.

Blogging With Bisby: This 15-minute camp, hosted by yours truly, will impart many of the “skills” needed to turn blogging into a source of income worth tens of dollars a year. Although, on second thought, maybe the cryptocurrency or asbestos camps are better bets…

Attn: Alex Behring and the rest of the Restaurant Brands International executive team.

First, let me congratulate you on the enormous, if somewhat unwarranted, popularity of your coffee-and-doughnuts chain. I very much enjoy your sour cream-glazed pastries, especially when nuked for about 30 seconds and paired with anything but your coffee.

That said, after visiting several of New Zealand’s ubiquitous roadside cafes, I feel many of the products and services available at these independent establishments could be implemented across the Tim Hortons chain to great effect. With that in mind, here are six New Year's resolutions I suggest for your brand:

1. Offer eel feeding: I know you’re always looking to create memorable customer experiences, and I now know that nothing is more memorable than feeding tame eels from the verdant banks of a shimmering brook. Of course, not every Tim Hortons location is as picturesque and pastoral as that of the Jester House Cafe near Nelson, NZ, but surely some kind of aquarium set-up could do the trick? Plus, I’m pretty sure the Jester’s $2-a-cup eel food is identical to your chicken salad.
2. Go gluten-free: Incredibly, not a single one of your myriad baked items is gluten-free. Walk into any NZ cafe, and several GF options are usually available, clearly labeled, and delicious to boot. Try the caramel squares and thank me later. 
3. More for the kids: Do children enjoy Timbits and hot chocolate? Did Mr. Horton like to drop the gloves? Yet, you make little or no effort to entertain the little ones. At the Jester, on the other hand, there’s a veritable enchanted forest of whimsical play structures, wooden musical instruments, and even a “borrow-a-tail” dress-up station. Any one of these features would be hugely appreciated by parents and kids alike, while the latter would appeal to the Harajuku crowd you are always trying to entice.
4. Serve drinky-drinks: All the NZ cafes I’ve visited offer a pleasing variety of local microbrews and wines. ‘Nuff said.
5. Bring me my food: I’m not suggesting you hire servers. Rather, instead of taking my order and tempting me to watch the unnerving preparation of my chicken salad sandwich, why not do as Kiwi cafes do and simply hand me a number on a stick so I can wait at my table? Fewer angry mobs at the pickup counter, fewer bleary-eyed customers spilling their heavily-laden trays, it’s all good.
6. Offer overnight accommodations: You know that guy who spends 14 hours a day in your Kinmount location? Why not give him the option to spend the night? Now, I doubt the Jester’s fairytale-boot lodgings would appeal to every Timmy’s customer, but maybe a hockey puck- or Timbit-shaped room would suffice? Combine this with some gluten-free treats, a gigantic wooden snail, a few local microbrews and a modest school of hungry eels, and you simply can’t lose. 

Once these resolutions are adopted, I will require two types of compensation for my consulting services: A lifetime supply of the Licorice Cafe's caramel squares; and a written guarantee that Tim Hortons will never, ever, expand to New Zealand.

If you missed my coverage of this stunning Loire Valley property the first time around, and since I couldn't fit it into my recent "top five travel destinations for fall" roundup in the Globe, here's the review again. After all, I can think of no better place to revel in the golden glow of autumn and savour the pungent aromas of a ridiculous cheese tray. 

Anyone seeking overnight accommodations in the Loire Valley’s most famous châteaux is out of luck. But there’s more to this UNESCO World Heritage Site than pretty castles.

Take Europe’s largest abbey: Founded in 1101, Fontevraud was at one time home to more than a thousand monks and nuns, whose matriarchal order eventually stretched from Portugal to Poland. It all came crashing down in 1792, however, when French revolutionaries ordered the evacuation of all religious residences in the land. The abbey was soon converted into a prison, which earned a brutal reputation before closing in 1963. Two decades later, after extensive restoration work, it reopened as yet another deconsecrated historic monument.

But this wouldn’t be the last of Fontevraud’s transformations. In June of 2014, after a $24-million overhaul, the abbey’s former leper ward (of all places) opened as a stylish, eco-conscious and technologically aggressive hotel.

LOCATION, LOCATION
The only remarkable thing about the typically winsome village of Fontevraud-l’Abbaye is its namesake, which fans out from a lovely cobblestone square. Once guests have found the hotel parking lot at the rear of the 14-hectare estate – the signage is tiny and easy to miss – they are whisked to the lobby in golf carts. That 60-second ride is a rousing introduction to the abbey’s sky-scraping spires.

DESIGN
New arrivals are encouraged to relax in the adjacent iBar, a dramatically lit blend of medieval, modern and futuristic sensibilities.
The former chapel’s vaulted ceiling soars over stylish oak banquettes, while padded room dividers line the stone walls to prevent conversation from echoing endlessly. (The monks and nuns took vows of silence, after all.) Here, educational touch screens act as tabletops; swipe a finger across them and prison blueprints replace views of the medieval abbey.
The hotel doesn’t shy away from its lean legacy and it soon becomes clear that this isn’t a typical hotel experience, which may rankle guests who expect air conditioning and plentiful toiletries. The compact rooms are clean and comfortable, with simple furnishings that evoke the abbey’s monastic roots. A staffer admits the expansive stone spaces may get chilly in winter – the complex is heated by a green-roofed, wood-fired power plant – but then points to a row of coat hangers that will carry complimentary cloaks.

READ THE REST OF THE REVIEW IN THE GLOBE AND MAIL

Travel elicits many emotions, from awe to anger and from upgrade ecstasy to gift-shop remorse. But over the course of my Canadian wanderings there’s something more: Pride. That's what this series is all about: Sharing my proud perspective on the places and experiences that make my country the greatest on Earth. Some of my selections are world-famous, others are little-known and a few are acquired tastes. The insights offered below, meanwhile, may come in handy for the 4.2 zillion people converging on Canada’s capital tomorrow...

​It’s fitting that Ottawa’s skyline is still dominated by Parliament Hill’s Peace Tower. Many other trappings of federal and international government are prominent in the home of my alma mater — Go Ravens! — such as the Royal Canadian Mint, the Prime Minister’s official residence, and the Governor General’s estate. Combine all this history and ceremony with the country’s densest collection of world-class museums, and Ottawa succeeds in making Canadians proud — and visitors a little bit jealous.

Don’t leave without...
...climbing the Peace Tower on Parliament Hill. Free elevator trips to the observation deck below the four 15-foot-wide clock faces resume July 2, and provide glorious panoramic views of the region from 200 feet up. Guided tours of the Hill’s Centre Block, meanwhile, allow visitors to explore the neo-Gothic Senate and House of Commons, as well as the ornate Library of Parliament and stirring Memorial Chamber.
...visiting the National Gallery of Canada. A short walk from Parliament, this soaring architectural masterpiece is home to six expansive gallery spaces, including a Canadian collection featuring iconic works by the Group of Seven, and a European gallery filled with paintings by geniuses like Van Gogh, Cezanne and Rembrandt. There’s a lot of artistic glory to take in, so it’s a good thing the place is so comfortable, with a pair of peaceful landscaped courtyards, a relaxing cafeteria and intimate bookstore tucked behind the skyscraping glass windows of the Great Hall.
...strolling or skating along the Rideau Canal. Before it spills into the city’s namesake river via a spectacular flight of eight locks, this 190-km-long engineering marvel and World Heritage Site is lined with cycle paths, restaurants and pubs, parks and gardens, all of which provide ideal vantage points for admiring many of the landmarks on this list.

What we overlook
The aspects of Ottawa that aren’t all about Canada tend to fall by the wayside. Just across the river in Quebec, for instance, leafy Gatineau Park is a hiker’s, cyclist’s and skier’s dream, while the Casino du Lac Leamy is an adults-only playground with gaming galore, top-notch dining, decadent spas and a 1,100-seat theatre. In the city itself, the diversions that get plenty of attention from locals — the beaches and volleyball courts of Mooney's Bay Park, for instance, or the recently revamped Lansdowne recreation complex — tend to get skipped by visitors.

Locals only
Waterfront holiday homes abound just outside of Ottawa, but you don’t need to own recreational real estate to get in on the action. Gatineau Park is home to dozens of sandy beaches, and you can take a relaxing dip in “The Pond,” a secret swimming hole tucked into the ritzy Rockcliffe Park neighbourhood off the aptly named Pond Street. Then there's the Capital Pathway network, one of the largest multi-use trails in North America with more than 600 kilometres of car-free goodness connecting many of the attractions on this list.

Family
Why cross the Atlantic to get a taste of royalty when you can sample its trappings at Rideau Hall, the official residence and workplace of Canada’s Governor General? The Queen’s representative in Canada has some pretty sweet digs: The opulent public rooms and multi-million-dollar art collection will impress grown-ups, while the expansive outdoor grounds, complete with cricket pitch, skating rink and Alice in Wonderland-style Rose Garden, will enthral youngsters. Children will also get a kick out of the changing of the guard — and the towering headgear worn by the guardsmen. 

Hip Hoods
Convenience and charm collide in the Byward Market, a 26-block shopping district sandwiched between Parliament Hill, the Ottawa River and the multi-storey Rideau Centre shopping mall. It’s home to one of the oldest agricultural markets in Canada, but don’t expect just farmers and fishmongers here. Depending on the season, the market building itself often overflows with stands selling everything from wild blackberries to hand-made bracelets. The surrounding streets, meanwhile, are lined with boutiques, restaurants, clubs and taverns, which spill into a series of open-air courtyards that will be rocking on July 1.
Bank Street, one of Ottawa’s main thoroughfares, is also the principal artery running through the Glebe neighbourhood south of downtown. Boutiques, pubs and restaurants line the streetscape here, with the multi-purpose Lansdowne Park — home to the CFL’s Grey Cup Champion Redblacks — bordering the Glebe to the south and the picturesque, park-lined Rideau Canal marking its eastern border.

Culture
The stark modern design of the Canadian War Museum evokes a bunker, the grass-covered roof a battlefield, and small windows on a towering rooftop fin spell out "Lest we forget" in Morse Code. Inside, the permanent galleries display items including one of Adolph Hitler’s Mercedes limousines, while covering conflicts ranging from First Nations battles and the War of 1812 to the Cold War and Afghanistan. The highlight, however, is the Memorial Hall, a space for remembrance and contemplation containing a single artifact: the headstone of Canada’s Unknown Soldier from the First World War.

Read the rest of the story in International Traveller magazine

WHERE TO STAY
The Courtyard Ottawa Downtown, located in the heart of the Byward Market, features an on-site Bistro where you can turn a Marriott Rewards dining card into the most patriotic of Canadian beverage. (Hint: It’s beer.)

​Travel elicits many emotions, from awe to anger and from upgrade ecstasy to gift-shop remorse. But over the course of my Canadian wanderings there’s something more: Pride. That's what this daily series is all about: Sharing my proud perspective on the places and experiences that make my country the greatest on Earth. Some of my selections are world-famous, others are little-known, a few are acquired tastes, and this one just cleaned up at the All Canadian Wine Championships.

There’s nothing like the first T-shirt sighting of the season.

Having just arrived from winter-weary Toronto, I pull an abrupt double-take when three sleeveless Kamloopsians stroll into view in early April. They too seem surprised, but not by my woolly sweater. It’s my ride – Tastefull Excursions’ new wine-touring van – that turns their heads.

​“Must’ve taken a wrong turn in Kelowna,” one says, referring to the Okanagan Valley, an hour down Highway 97, where 120-plus vintners comprise “the northernmost serious wine region in the world,” according to Travel + Leisure.

It soon becomes clear the magazine should have looked further north. Granted, viticulture is new to the Thompson River basin around Kamloops, with 2010 marking the first vintage year in what’s known as Thompson Country. “Wine region” is a stretch, even with more wineries rumoured to be joining the four already in place.

That’s where the neighbouring Shuswap comes in. The Thompson-Shuswap, as the B.C. Wine Institute calls it, is home to a dozen licensed vintners that are winning awards with rare cool-climate varietals such as Ortega, Maréchal Foch and siegerrebe. Travellers familiar with better-known terroir won’t believe where these grapes thrive – on pine-covered mountainsides and in hoodoo-lined valleys – not to mention the calibre of what’s bottled.

Combine this burgeoning route with an astonishingly active farm-to-table scene encompassing eateries, bakeries, markets and a wide-ranging “Full Circle Farm Tour” guide, and, well, let’s just say my T-shirts have become noticeably tighter.

Read the rest of the story in the Globe and Mail

​WHERE TO STAY
The Fairfield Inn & Suites Kamloops offers 114 spacious rooms and suites, complimentary breakfast, and a roomy patio for sampling what you bring back from a wine tour. As well as getting free accommodations, you can also use Marriott Rewards on "Moments" that include wine tastings, culinary festivals and private dinners by award-winning chefs.

Travel elicits many emotions, from awe to anger and from upgrade ecstasy to gift-shop remorse. But over the course of my Canadian wanderings there’s something more: Pride. That's what this daily series is all about: Sharing my proud perspective on the places and experiences that make my country the greatest on Earth. Some of my selections are world-famous, others are little-known, a few are acquired tastes, and this one is once again home to some of the finest milkshakes on the planet.

As I approached the summit, one final hurdle lay ahead. It wasn't the steep, crumbling slope under my feet. Nor was it the blazing midday sun. No — as I climbed the dune in Eastern Ontario's Sandbanks Provincial Park, my greatest challenge was the all-dressed bacon cheeseburger, onion rings and chocolate milkshake I had just devoured outside the snack bar.

Just as mountaineers acclimatize to altitude, I stopped and waited for the grease rush to subside. Then, heartened by what awaited beyond the dune's 10-metre peak, I scrambled up the sandy mound, paperback in one hand, towel in the other.

I had seen the view from atop the dunes dozens of times before, either on a sand-seeking expedition out of Toronto, or on "Picton Day," the June exodus of class-cutting teens from my former hometown of Kingston. On this perfect summer Saturday, it encompassed blue skies, calm Lake Ontario waters and white sands framed by stands of eastern cottonwood trees, a picture that solidified Sandbanks as my favourite Canadian beach. The sand and scenery of some East and West Coast beaches may compare — PEI's Cavendish and Vancouver's English Bay spring to mind — but Sandbanks' summer is reliably hot and sunny, and the water is fresh, calm and surprisingly warm. If, like me, you often crave a splashy game of paddle ball — that free-form, co-ed pursuit of the Frisbee-fatigued — you'll only be up to your waist in water more than 100 metres offshore, owing to the three beaches' gentle, child-friendly slope out of East Lake (which is actually a bay).

Unlike much of surrounding Prince Edward County, which has seen a spate of development in recent years, little has changed at Sandbanks since I first arrived here in someone else's parent's minivan more than 25 years ago. The drive past the main entrance still winds pleasantly through thick maple forest. The aforementioned snack bar still serves up the thickest milkshakes around thanks to the staff's perennial lack of blender-awareness. And on a prime summer weekend, the park's Outlet, Sandbanks and Campers beaches are still busy, but not maddeningly so. After all, there's plenty of real estate: The 11 kilometres of beaches and dunes form two of the largest freshwater bay-mouth sandbars in the world.

Arriving at noon, it was easy to find a sunny spot devoid of errant Frisbees and sand-encrusted toddlers. Spreading out mats and towels, and unfolding lounge chairs — my wife Angela and I are confessed beach-accoutrement addicts — we settled into an afternoon of doing very, very little.
Once again, I noticed that time and sound perform strange tricks when one is prostrate on the beach. A lively conversation among a group of nearby teenagers — "Dude, man, my wakeboard is sick!" — soon became a melodious trickle interspersed with the noise of splashing kids and squawking gulls. This was followed by an irresistible snooze, a groggy awakening and feigned surprise that two hours had passed in what felt like five minutes.

Read the rest of the story in the Globe and Mail.

WHERE TO STAY
If camping or B&Bs aren't your thing, the TownePlace Suites Belleville is 45 minutes away by car and features suites with full kitchens, an indoor pool and hot tub, and free Wi-Fi and breakfast.

Travel elicits many emotions, from awe to anger and from upgrade ecstasy to gift-shop remorse. But over the course of my Canadian wanderings there’s something more: Pride. That's what this daily series is all about: Sharing my proud perspective on the places and experiences that make my country the greatest on Earth. Some of my selections are world-famous, others are little-known, and a few are acquired tastes. This open letter, meanwhile, is addressed to Nigel, the God of Snow...
 
Dear Nigel,
 
You are known by many names: "Khione" by the ancient Greeks, "Kun Aymara" by Bolivian tribes, and "Ullr" by both Norse cultures and that Rastafarian dude on the chairlift. But you have shown me great favour when I call you "Nigel," so I’ll stick with that, OK?
 
Take my ski trip to Kicking Horse and Revelstoke a couple years back. Over those five days, oh great and powerful Nigel, you blanketed the resorts’ respective slopes in 25 and 47 centimetres of powder.
 
As is my custom upon arriving at Calgary International Airport, I sacrificed a frosty local microbrew in your name – a Last Best Show Pony Ale to be exact – and humbly requested that you focus your benevolent, exuberantly-bearded powers on Kicking Horse, my first stop on the northern section of B.C.'s aptly-named Powder Highway.
 
But in your infinite and fleecily-vested wisdom, you held off. You waited until I had crossed 280 kms of Trans-Canada Highway, and dined upon some mind-blowing poutine at Peaks Grill, before unleashing your powers of precipitation. Indeed, no sooner did the curds caress my lips than fat flakes started falling from the sky. You may not have unleashed your full powers, but your efforts that night, and again two days hence, were joyfully received on the north ridge of the Terminator 2 peak (pictured above). That must have been why the Rastafarian dude never stopped grinning.
 
Your powers were not quite as joyfully received during my white-knuckle drive west across Roger’s Pass, home to the world's largest mobile avalanche control program. On the plus side, the double-edged sword you wield fell heavily upon Revelstoke Mountain Resort that night, turning Greely Bowl into a snowy paradise I'll never forget. It was so sublime, oh portly and fashionably-bespectacled Nigel, that I saw fit to dedicate anywhere from two to five Mt. Begbie microbrews to your glorious, polysyllabic and relatively common name.
 
Which leads me to the thrust of this letter: Would you like nachos next time?
 
Sincerely,
 
Your most humble and achingly-legged servant,
 
Adam
 
WHERE TO STAY
Late-night arrivals to YYC can’t do much better than the Delta Hotels Calgary Airport In-Terminal, which is connected to the terminal buildings via a skywalk and features three eateries, a saltwater pool and a roomy hot tub. Your aching legs will thank you.

Dear Nigel,

You are known by many names: "Khione" by the ancient Greeks, "Kun Aymara" by Bolivian tribes, and "Ullr" by both Norse cultures and that Rastafarian dude on the chairlift. But you have shown me great favour when I call you "Nigel," so I’ll just stick with that, OK?

Take my ski trip to B.C. this past week: Over those seven days, oh great and powerful Nigel, you blanketed the respective slopes of Sun Peaks, Kicking Horse and Revelstoke in 26, 25 and 47 (!!!) centimetres of snow.

I may have arrived too early to partake of the recent favours you granted Sun Peaks, but with Canada’s best groomers at work it was no big deal. Besides, your powdery handiwork was still plentiful and pristine in the newly in-bounds and hike-accessible "Gil's" terrain atop Mt. Tod (pictured above).

As is my custom, I "sacrificed" a pair of frosty local microbrews in your name – Okanagan Spring 1516 Lager, to be exact – and humbly requested that you focus your benevolent, exuberantly-bearded powers on Kicking Horse, my next stop.

But in your infinite and fleecilly-vested wisdom, you held off. You waited until I had crossed 360 clicks of Trans-Canada Highway – including Roger’s Pass, home to the world's largest mobile avalanche control program – before unleashing your powers of precipitation. This not only made for a relaxing ride, oh merciful and transcendentally-trousered Nigel, but it allowed me to pause while passing the Enchanted Forest, 3 Valley Gap and the Burner Restaurant (pictured below), as well as the various other roadside attractions that make this stretch of highway the quirkiest in all the land. Also, it gave me both the time and courage to dine upon a very large cinnamon bun (pictured below) at Sprockets Cafe near Salmon Arm.

Very large cinnamon buns, it turns out, are also worthy "sacrifices" to your gloriousness, for no sooner did I partake of the outdoor hot tub at Kicking Horse’s Palliser Lodge than fat flakes started falling from the sky. You may not have unleashed your full powers, but your efforts that night, and again two days hence, were joyfully received on the north ridge of the Terminator 2 peak. (That must have been why the Rastafarian dude never stopped grinning.)

Your powers were not quite as joyfully received as I retraced my route along Highway 1 en route to Revelstoke. But at least you didn’t cause an avalanche closure. On that note, the timing of the Rogers Pass shutdowns –  the day before I arrived at Kicking Horse, and again the day after I departed – did not go unnoticed.

The double-edged sword you wield also fell heavily upon Revelstoke Mountain Resort that day, turning Greely Bowl (pictured below) into a powdery paradise I'll never forget. It was so sublime, oh portly and fashionably-bespectacled Nigel, that I saw fit to "dedicate" anywhere from two to five Mt. Begbie microbrews (pictured below) to your glorious, polysyllabic and relatively common name.

Sincerely,

Your most humble and achingly-legged servant,

Adam

PS: Do you also like nachos? Just wondering…