I won't deny that there are some glaring gaps in the Canada 150 Countdown.

These regional omissions were pointed out to me several times as July 1 neared. As “Canucklehead” put it in a comment: "The Canada 150 Countdown? Where's Manitoba? Yukon? The WHOLE DAMN EAST COAST? Time for a new title!"

Fair point.

Then there's this comment from “From The Rock”: "Still waiting for something from Newfoundland. Why don't you come visit?"

Honestly, I would like nothing more. Between now and the Canada 200 celebrations I plan to attend as a vampire or mummy, I solemnly pledge to explore more of the six provinces and two territories that aren't covered by the Ontario-Quebec-BC-Alberta-NWT Countdown. (Happy now, Canucklehead?) Now that my Atlantic Canada to-do list is out there, here are the five spots at the top of my 50-year itinerary for Yukon and Nunavut:

Dawson City
There’s still gold in the hills surrounding the former Yukon capital, but these days it’s far from the only draw. The vestiges of the late-19th-century Klondike Gold Rush are still prominent: The Yukon Gold Panning Championships each July; tours of Robert Service‘s home, which provide insights into the life and work of the “Bard of the Yukon;” Diamond Tooth Gerties saloon, where live can-can shows remain a staple; and the Downtown Hotel, where Sourtoe Cocktail, made with a real mummified human toe, is still served. One simple (and disgusting) act will get you into the Sourtoe Cocktail Club: “You can drink it fast, you can drink it slow, but your lips have gotta touch the toe.” And note-to-self: Several toes have been swallowed over the decades, and I don’t want to be “that guy.”

Dempster Highway
Starting near Dawson City, the Dempster winds 730 gravelly kilometres to the town of Inuvik, NWT, on the wildlife-rich delta of the Mackenzie River. Along the way it crosses the Arctic Circle, passes the jagged peaks and moss-carpeted valleys of Tombstone Territorial Park, and bisects enormous tracts of tundra that are home to moose, caribou and grizzly bears. If all this doesn’t make the miles melt away, the highway is also an essential lifeline for remote northern communities where First Nations customs are still practiced as they have been for centuries.

Kluane National Park and Reserve
Do the math: When 82 per cent of a national park is covered by either mountains or glaciers (or both), you know you’re in for something spectacular. It certainly adds up in this list’s largest park, a 21,980-square-kilometre wonderland of icy beauty tucked into Yukon’s southwest corner. Mixed forests and colourful alpine tundra flourish in Kluane’s remaining 18 per cent, providing a home for eagles, grizzly bears, wolves and other creatures that are often at risk in busier parks to the south. And topping it all off — literally — is Mount Logan, at 5,959 metres Canada's highest peak.

Auyuittuq National Park
If you’re going to name a peak after the Norse god of thunder and lightening, it had better be…striking. And Mount Thor is certainly that. The dramatic granite monolith in Auyuittuq National Park on Baffin Island is a respectable 1,675 metres tall — starting almost at sea level — but 1,250 metres of that is sheer cliff, creating the Earth’s greatest purely vertical drop. In addition to being predictably popular with rock climbers, the precipice is world-renowned among base jumpers. For my part, I’ll probably leave my wingsuit at home.

Bathurst Inlet Lodge
Formerly a Hudson’s Bay Trading Post and Oblate mission, the 42-year-old lodge offers nicely appointed rooms in a variety of quirky locations: a deconsecrated church, cabins overlooking the Burnside Delta, the two-bedroom Taipana House, a former trading post warehouse, and a former radio transmission station. Staying here is said to offer a glimpse into the traditional Inuit lifestyle, as well an opportunity to spot Arctic wildlife such as foxes, seals, barren-ground caribou and muskox from hiking trails and sea kayaks. Also in the area is the Wilberforce Falls, the highest waterfall above the Arctic Circle.

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 takes hiking, and hot-tubbing, to new heights.
 
“Your lips move, but I can’t hear what you’re saying…”

Pink Floyd’s “Comfortably Numb” reverberates through my headset as our soundtrack-equipped helicopter soars over the bluest lake I've ever seen. At that moment, the lips in question belong to the awestruck passenger next to me. But it’s easy to see what she’s saying: “Wow!”

Her mic isn't working, but no matter. All six passengers in the West Coast Helicopters chopper are clearly dumbfounded by the Coast Mountain scenery assaulting their senses.

An hour earlier, our mid-morning lift-off from Nimmo Bay Resort shattered the misty serenity of the luxurious eco-lodge. Here on the southwestern edge of B.C.’s remote and rugged Great Bear Rainforest, exploration is only possible by sea or air. We would soon discover why helicopters are so well-suited for the latter.

If the tiered waterfall powering the resort, the bronze grizzly bear statues in its effluence, and our towering breakfast skillets had seemed like aspects of a wonderful dream, then the next seven hours push the experience into died-and-gone-to-heaven territory. Indeed, I expect “Stairway to Heaven” to continue the classic-rock theme as our chopper veers away from Corsan Peak and its impossibly blue kettle lake, and returns to a wide river valley where larch trees mottle the banks with their autumnal yellows.

We’ve touched down just once so far: On a parking space-sized boulder near the base of a gushing waterfall, where Dave Wigard, our good-natured pilot, demonstrates the chopper’s remarkable versatility.

His point is driven home emphatically as we approach Silverthrone Glacier. As its jagged expanse unfolds below us and its namesake peak looms ahead, I half expect to see Superman emerge from what looks like his Fortress of Solitude. I also realize just how lucky we are to admire scenery that would otherwise require some serious mountaineering skills to reach.

Wigard skilfully lands the chopper on a moraine flanking the glacier, where we rendez-vous with the tour’s other two birds. Within minutes our guides cover a flat-topped boulder with a decadent lunch spread, which tastes that much better 8,000 feet up.

After cramming our memory cards with “I’m King of the World!” snapshots, we climb back into the choppers and leave the glacier in dramatic fashion. We fly low over the ice, past sinewy waterfalls and towering cliffs, then suddenly swoop upward. Within seconds, we’re looking down on Silverthrone Mountain, its snowy peak punctured by dark pillars of volcanic rock that resemble giant claws bursting from an icy lair. Forget Superman: This is more like something out of Lord of the Rings.

Read the rest of the story in the Globe and Mail

WHERE TO STAY
Most Nimmo Bay guests arrive via YVR, where the nearby Vancouver Airport Marriott Hotel provides free shuttle service, elegant accommodations, and 24-hour room service.

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 30 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 would make an Ewok feel right at home.
 
“Oh, I’ve been in spheres for about 20 years now.”
 
This isn’t something I hear every day. Of course, it’s not every day I check into a spherical room dangling in the lush Vancouver Island forest surrounding Qualicum Beach. This is as good as it gets for getting close to nature, and I can think of no better place for B.C.’s new Green Party caucus to convene, or for Donald Trump’s incarceration and rehabilitation.
 
I arrive at Free Spirit Spheres at around 11 p.m., but despite the late hour I'm greeted warmly by Tom Chudleigh, who owns and operates these unique digs with his wife Rosie. When Chudleigh says he’s “in spheres,” he’s not speaking literally. He means he’s been crafting spherical tree-houses big enough to sleep, dine and relax in for more than two decades. While working on a round houseboat in the early 1990s, the trained shipbuilder realized the three-metre-wide orb would be more at home in the treetops. The end result was christened “Eve,” and by 1997 was roped into the forest canopy of nearby Denman Island.
 
As Eve’s local fame grew, so did demand to snooze in the sphere. So, over the next few years, she was relocated to Chudleigh’s current 10-acre property and joined by three slightly bigger sisters: Eryn, a three-person loft sphere suspended about two storeys above the forest floor; Melody, the newest sphere, with a Murphy bed that enables daytime dining; and Gwynn, the “branch office.” Free Spirit now sees more than 2,000 guests a year, Chudleigh says, and is looking to expand to a larger property where 10 spheres could be connected by suspended walkways, kind of like the Ewok village in Star Wars Episode VI.
 
As we climb the spiral staircase leading up to Eve, Chudleigh goes over the tree-house rules: Watch your step, watch out for wildlife (especially black bears), and wear a headlamp when walking to the shower hut and mushroom-shaped outhouse at night.
 
Despite Eve's quirkiness, it doesn’t take long to feel right at home. The efficient interior is reminiscent of a ship’s, with a single bed, a settee, counter space and several wooden cupboards and drawers containing a kettle, coffee press, teapot and the like. There are even built-in speakers that connect to handheld devices, while a small electric heater warms the cosy space. “You can feel the magic here,” Chudleigh says as he bids me goodnight. “You lie in bed and you look up at that round ceiling, and it’s magical.”
 
Initially, I lie in bed wondering if I’ll get used to the swaying sensation I feel every time I roll over. In this regard, the experience also evokes a small ship, but not quite: There seem to be two types of simultaneous motion, as if I’m sleeping on a ship’s waterbed.
 
Chudleigh later attributes this distinctive sensation to the concept of “bio-mimicry” he embraced when designing and hoisting the spheres. They use the forest as their foundation, he explains, and mirror the natural robustness of the surrounding eco-system. Each sphere is supported by a web of nine ropes tethered to three trees, yet each rope is strong enough to support more than a tonne of weight, considerably more than that of each sphere and its occupants. But like their foundation, “in a big wind, these things move round,” Chudleigh adds.
 
The breeze is light during my stay, and eventually the gentle swaying lulls me into a deep, peaceful sleep. I awake at dawn – still being on Ontario time – and gaze out a round window as the sunrise illuminates the verdant forest canopy.
 
It’s the most wonderful awakening of my life. So wonderful, in fact, that I consider spending 20 years in spheres. Literally.
 
WHERE TO STAY
Unless you’re already on Vancouver Island, a journey to Free Spirit will likely involve passing through Vancouver or Victoria. If you wisely decide to linger in either city, the Victoria Marriott Inner Harbour and Residence Inn Vancouver Downtown are ideal bases for exploring B.C.’s urban charms — and with the latter, for protesting in front of Vancouver’s new Trump International Hotel & Tower. Plus, you can redeem Marriott Rewards for a shiny new megaphone...