The oases of Tozeur and Nefta were a revelation. There was so much undergrowth of other fruits beneath the huge date palms: there were bananas, almonds, plums and apricots and all this on the edge of the Salt pans and the desert.

We traversed the Chott El Djerid – an area of salt marshes with solidified sand piles – on the road which French Engineers had built during their brief Empire. We stopped at Douz for lunch and that was where we found out that Gaddafi had been captured. This part of Tunisia is so close to the border with Libya that it is full of refugees.

Just outside Douz there is a centre for camel rides or 4 x 4 treks into the desert. The Berbers who run most of these trips have cannily caught little desert foxes which they keep on a leash for you to hold and have photos taken with. They are the size of a large cat with huge, very pointy fox-like ears, a bushy tail and a definite foxy colour. They are also terrified because, being nocturnal, their large eyes cannot cope with the blinding sunlight.

I realised there was a gap in my knowledge about Tunisia which the guide wasn’t about to fill. Of course, the Desert Fox! This was Rommel’s nickname to the Allied troops fighting in the North African Desert during World War Two. So he must have been around Tozeur. This part of Tunisia is just next door to Libya and all those famous battlefields we have heard of in films – Tobruk and El Alamein for a start!

Rommel’s fame rests on his success as a military leader, his daring and his compassionate attitude to Prisoners of War. To the British Desert Rats,(see film with James Mason) Rommel epitomised a gentleman’s approach to war. Rommel’s Afrika Korps never committed any atrocities and all prisoners were humanely treated. His masterstroke came in June 1942 when his outnumbered Afrika Korps wrecked the British Eighth Army on the Gazala Line immediately to the east of Benghazi. He then pursued his beaten foe all the way back to El Alamein, the Eighth Army’s last defensive position in Egypt before the Nile. Along the way, he also took the fortress port of Tobruk. The Battle for Tobruk lasted 240 days and by the end of that September, Rommel was suffering from exhaustion and a bout of jaundice that finally forced him to return to Germany for treatment.

We leave the desert and drive north to Matmata, a Berber troglodyte town where LukeSkywalker’s hotel was. We never visited Tataouine (supposedly Luke’s planet but nothing was ever filmed there) – important Berber trading town that had been home to regiments of the Foreign Legion (think ‘Beau Geste’) nor even Medenine where Rommel fought his last battle against Montgomery. These southern Berber towns are, by far, much more interesting than the dusty impoverished towns of the North. Called ‘Ksars’(from the Latin ‘castrum’) these fortified villages nearly all housed huge grain stores built into the rocks and they are essentially Berber, not Tunisian Arab.

As we drove north, we by-passed Kasserine where Rommel had inflicted damage on the American forces (there is apparently a military cemetery there) and were forced to by-pass Sfax as there were demonstrations/celebrations when the population (mainly Libyan refugees)learnt of the death of Gaddaffi.  Somehow, the Berbers, the French Foreign Legion and Rommel all got by-passed and Luke Skywalker was the hero of the hour with Gadaffi coming a close second.

For further interest:

Rommel in Tunisia
A French Guide 
Medenine

Photo Credits:

All photos courtesy of Julia McLean

Luke Skywalker and the Desert Fox – Part Two is a post from: LIFE AS A HUMAN

It had been a long, tiring flight on Egypt Air, from New York to Cairo, but my fatigue melted away as I entered my Nile-view room at the Ramses Hilton. The evening haze glowed orange, incandescent from the setting Egyptian sun, which reflected in the waters of the Nile. In the distance were the silhouettes of the Great Pyramids of Cheops, Chefren and Mycerinus. It was mind boggling to think that this view had been awing new visitors to Egypt for almost five thousand years.

I wandered downstairs into the hotel’s lobby, passing a lounge where business suited Egyptians sipped Turkish coffee, smoking pungent “sheeshas” or water pipes and listened to the keening strains of traditional Middle Eastern music. After a traditional Egyptian dinner topped off by Turkish coffee and delicious pastries I said “dispah ala kheer” (good night) to my waiter and retired early in preparation for my first day’s sight seeing. EMECO Travel had arranged for me to have my own personal guide, driver and car optimizing my travel experience and day one found me at the site of the Great Pyramids. Riding a camel to the 4700-year-old edifices I dismounted and proceeded to explore the interior of the Pyramid of Mycerinus, making my way down the cramped corridor to the chambers in the heart of the edifice. They were bare, long ago emptied of their riches by the tomb robbers in ancient times. Exiting the mausoleum I walked around the larger pyramids of Cheops and Chefren, visiting the building housing the 4700 year Solar Boat found buried nearby and still looking sea worthy millennia later, though it was intended to cruise not the ocean but the sky as transport for the departed pharaoh. That evening I returned and watched an incredible sound and light show describing the history of the plains of Giza and narrated appropriately enough by the sphinx.

The Egyptian Museum in Cairo is a must see for all visitors. It contains such a wealth of artifacts that some say they basement will have to be re-excavated one day to find many of them. Of particular note are the treasures of King Tutankhamen. His solid gold burial mask immortalizes the youthful face of the pharaoh who died in his late teens, and was quite unknown until Howard Carter found his untouched tomb in 1922. An apparently well-documented series of events followed the opening of the crypt, including the devouring of Carter’s “lucky” canary by a cobra the night of the find. The cobra is the royal insignia of Lower Egypt. Lord Carnarvon, Carter’s patron, died shortly after from an infected mosquito bite at which point the lights in Cairo mysteriously went out for 12 hours, and the Lord’s favorite dog back in England let out a howl and keeled over dead. Supposedly quite a few others who entered the tomb died of unusual illnesses, though Carter, the main culprit if Tut was looking for retribution, went unscathed (if we discount the loss of his canary). Other treasures include Tut’s solid gold coffin, much meticulously crafted jewelry and a throne which has a remarkable relief of Tut with his wife Ankhesenamen.

A visit to Cairo is not complete without a trip to The Citadel. This was the former headquarters of Saladin, the remarkable ruler who routed the Crusaders from the Holy Land in the latter part of the 12th century. The Citadel also provides a remarkable view of Old Cairo where a sea of minarets ensures none of the pious will miss the muezzin’s call to prayer. The 19th century mosque of Muhammad Ali (not the boxer, but the Albanian who took power after Napoleon’s troops vacated Egypt) provided a quiet refuge where my guide, Rania, explained some of the philosophy of the Islamic religion. In those grandiose surroundings I confess she almost made a convert of me. Later we visited Coptic Cairo. Ten percent of Egypt’s population are Christians who were converted during the time of the Roman Empire and these are the true descendants of the ancient Egyptians. The only modern use of the ancient pharaonic language is during their religious ceremonies. At St. Sergius church tradition holds that the Holy Family hid out in a crypt in the basement during their flight to Egypt. Unfortunately the crypt is flooded by the rising ground water which plagues modern Egypt. Much of Coptic Cairo is under reconstruction at present, which disturbs the traditional peacefulness of the district. Also worth a visit is the Ben Ezra Synagogue with a shrine that traditionally marks the spot where Moses was found in the bulrushes.

The Khan el Khalili bazaar is a paradise for shoppers, but a must see for everyone. The winding streets, exotic goods and galabiyya-clad peddlers make the district look like a scene from the Arabian nights. Best buys include gold, silver and colorful hand blown perfume bottles. Make sure the precious metals are stamped and that the glassware will be appropriately wrapped after purchase. Be prepared to bargain hard as the goods are marked way up for tourists. On my departure I found most of the things I purchased were cheaper at the airport gift shop!

The next leg of my trip was a flight to the city of Luxor in southern Egypt (also known as Upper Egypt because it is upriver, as opposed to Lower Egypt, which is north and down river). Here I boarded a cruise boat, The Nile Plaza, my home for the next four days. Cruising is the best way to see this part of the country and provides a leisurely way to observe rural life along the Nile. Luxor (from Arabic El Uqsor, “the palaces”), called Thebes in ancient times, was capital of Egypt for over one thousand years and repository of some of its most fantastic archeological treasures. The temple at Karnak is one of the largest temple complexes in the world, covering about sixty acres. The famous hypostyle hall contains almost two hundred monstrous columns, topped by lotus and papyrus motifs. Try to find a spot where there are no other visitors, close your eyes and imagine the sound of the sacred procession leading the statue of the god, Amun-Ra out of the sanctuary during the Opet Festival. The smaller temple at Luxor also has many fine reliefs and an evening visit to the flood lit structure worthwhile.

Overnighting on board The Nile Plaza, we had an early visit to the Valley of the Kings in the desert on the western bank of the Nile. We managed to visit four tombs including that of King Tut. It was actually one of the less impressive dwellings in the necropolis with reliefs found only in the actual burial chamber. The pharaoh’s mummy is still on site in its huge red stone sarcophagus. More impressive was the tomb Thutmosis III, one of the greatest of Egypt’s New Kingdom pharaoh’s. Despite the inaccessible site a good hundred feet up the side of the cliff, it was also robbed in antiquity. Interestingly the tombs were rarely finished. Usually as soon as the pharaoh died work was stopped, so many walls are unfinished, or partly finished with only the overseers’ sketches present. Also, despite the fact that one expects the tombs to be gloomy, the neon bright colors actually are quite cheerful, at least in the glare of electric lights. By the way, bring a flashlight, as the guards have been known to turn out the lights in the tombs and demand a little “baksheesh” to turn them back on.

While in the necropolis it is worth seeing the funerary temple to Hatshepsut, a woman who ruled Egypt for years as pharaoh, even having herself depicted wearing a beard. The building is surprisingly modern looking despite being over three thousand years old. Most of her inscriptions were scraped off by her irate nephew, Thutmosis III whose power she had usurped.

Further upriver we visited the well-preserved temples of Horus at Edfu, and the Temple of Sobek and Haroeris in Komombo built in Greco-Roman times. Our cruise terminated in the town of Aswan in Nubia, where the fabulously preserved Temple of Philae rests on a lush island in Lake Aswan. Almost completely intact, it was built by the Greek Ptolemaic rulers of Egypt, who took power after Alexander the Great’s conquest (and included Cleopatra, who was actually Greek, not Egyptian). Later additions were constructed Roman emperors as late as the 2nd century AD. This temple was the site of active worship of the Egyptian mother goddess Isis until the sixth century AD. Unfortunately most of the reliefs of the lithe, unclothed goddess were defaced by prudish Coptic Christians who occupied the temple after its closure

After visiting Philae we took a ride on a traditional felucca, the single masted lateen rigged vessel, which has cruised the Nile for millennia. Sailing on Lake Aswan we glided past the fabled Elephantine Isle, with its thick cloak of palm trees and foliage, and scattered ancient ruins. In contrast to the west the yellow sands of the Sahara reach right to the shore. Myriad other brightly colored boats plied the waters of the lake. Our Nubian helmsman grinned toothily, his burnoose streaming in the breeze and as he tacked our vessel towards shore. I turned to one of my fellow passengers, a producer for the Discovery Channel. “Sandy”, I said, “There may be more exotic things we could be doing right now, but for the life of me I can’t think of any”. She smiled and nodded.

The cruise terminated in Aswan and for the final leg of my trip I flew to Abu Simbel, deep in the heart of Nubia and only a few miles north of the Sudanese border. Here lies the great temple of Abu Simbel rescued from the rising waters of Lake Aswan by a joint international effort after the High Dam was built. Carved in solid rock in the 13th century BC, the edifice is faced with four massive colossi of Ramses II, each almost seventy feet high. It is said that in ancient times marauders from the south bent on plundering Egypt would take one look at the brooding countenance of these colossi and would flee terror stricken. I believe it.

My trip to Egypt had been brief, but incredibly packed with history and new and exotic experiences. For those with limited amounts of time a well-organized tour can eliminate hassles and free up time to do more enjoyable things.

Photo Credits

Camel Back Photo By George Burden – All Rights Reserved

Tomb Entrance – Public Domain

Giza View From Plan – Creative Commons

First Published In The Medical Post, March 6, 2001

 For More Information, visit Emco Travel

A Land Fit For Kings is a post from: LIFE AS A HUMAN

Sometimes it takes a newcomer to the Island to remind us how awesome our community really is. When we live here long enough our island paradise can be taken for granted and we can all too easily forget the Oooh Ahhh factor. You know, like when we were kids at the fireworks and we would look up and collectively go Oooh, Ahhh. Is this taken-for-granted phenomenon wrapped up in familiarity or are we simply too busy to stop and appreciate our surroundings?

I’ve been here for 28 years and I really don’t understand the cabin fever type comments of having to get off the island once in a while. It must be the Welsh in me, the homebody instinct but I love it as much as I ever did. I must admit though I had forgotten just how good we have it. When I take a step back to reflect on my own Oooh Ahhh factor, I take in the expansive view from atop the Malahat: Oooh … Ahhh! The scent of an arbutus tree in flower after a May rainfall, and taking photographs with my husband as the summer sun rises over Fisherman’s Wharf in Sidney’s harbour.  And then, I took my revelry a step farther and started asking colleges and friends what brought them here and what was there Oooh Ahhh factor. Here is what Wilf Krahe, a proud Canadian citizen whose origins are Germany said.

Wilf’s first experience of this area came in 1975 when he was asked by a friend to travel with him to an uncle’s home in Canada. The result was a life long love affair with this Peninsula we inhabit. This trip long ago led to his immigration and desire to take out Canadian citizenship. Wilf’s Oooh Ahhh factor is the sense of space, the feeling of freedom and the friendly people. He still loves the slow pace and the fact that there is a space in the world with a park-like setting and few fences.

Another long time resident, Kim Erb, was fortunate enough to be brought here because of her husbands work. Like Wilf, Kim loves the slow unhurried pace, and the fact that geography saves us from urban sprawl. We will never suffer from the fungus of metropolis mushroom. What she loves most of all, her Oooh Ahhh factor, is that old country sense of community; the fact that when Kim is out and about she will meet and be greeted by the many people she has come to know is part of paradise. To quote her on contentment: “We have made our little nest here and we are cozy and comfortable.”

People still laugh when I tell them my husband and I came out here to retire, because at the time we were in our twenties and newly married. We had been watching our parents’ friends retire, move to there dream home away from all they had known most of there lives, only to find out they had left their friends and family behind. They had stopped looking at their particular paradise and, after much debating, wringing of hands and financial losses, they moved back to their original community, which had its own Oooh Ahhh factor. Taking our cue from their experience, we came to a place we wished to retire and here we are still. We have been able to make the dream a reality, having raised our kids and will be moving on into retirement, maybe not with ease but we are still afloat and will be here for the duration.

Thanks to newcomers, I now take longer looks at that summer sunrise that we photographed and hung on our wall; a welcome to all you new comers.
To the readers: are you, like me, taking our incredible community for granted? Do you remember why you came to the island? Or, if you’re from here, do you appreciate what we have? What’s your Oooh Ahhh factor?

First published in Seaside Times -February 2010, pg. 27 under the pen name Jesse Williamson

Photo Credit

©Jim Gardener

The Oooh Ahhh Factor is a post from: LIFE AS A HUMAN

Every once in a while in birding, something completely surprises you. Sometimes it’s an assumption that you’ve always had, that you suddenly realize is completely false. Sometimes it’s an epiphany about some field mark – maybe one that every other birder knows, that has somehow slipped past you for all this time.

For me, the Limpkin falls into the category of mistaken assumptions. The first time I saw one, I was amazed at how big it was. I had always just assumed that they were the size of a large rail. So imagine my surprise to discover that the brownish heron standing beside a pond in the Yucatan was a Limpkin.

Female Eurasian Teal and female Green-winged Teal fall into the second category for me. I had always just run under the assumption that they were indistinguishable, and left it at that.

But first a bit of background. Here in western Canada we have three regular species of teal: Green-winged, Blue-winged and Cinnamon. However, a fourth teal, the Eurasian (aka Common Teal), occasionally shows up from breeding grounds in Asia and western Alaska. Several years ago there was increased attention paid to the Green-winged and Eurasian teals as ornithological committees around the world split off Green-winged Teal (Anas carolinensis) from Eurasian Teal (Anas crecca) as two distinct species. There was much rumour and hype that the American Ornithologists’ Union would soon follow suit…they never did. At any rate, whether considered as two separate species as they are in many countries, or as different forms of the same species as here in North America, the stage was set for looking at our teal much more closely.

Fast forward to a birding trip I took to China. We were enjoying scoping out Eurasian Teal flocks in the hopes of turning up new and exotic species. The problem was that due to incessant hunting pressures, these birds rarely stuck around long enough for careful scrutiny. So it was, while watching the tail end of yet another teal flock, that it suddenly hit me what was different about these birds. The upper wing-bar (formed by the greater coverts) of Eurasian Teal is a different colour than on our Green-wingeds. The speculum of Green-winged Teal is bordered by a white trailing edge, and a (variably) buffish upper bar. On Eurasian Teal both of these bars are white. This was good news, for now I could try to pick out a female Eurasian Teal back home in Canada.

Upon coming home and investigating this trait, I found out that it was, in fact, an already published field mark. This and a couple other field marks can be read about here. Now, I don’t think the wing bar difference is 100% reliable. That is, I’ve yet to encounter a Green-winged Teal with a completely white upper wingbar, but some Eurasian do seem to have buffish bars, especially nearer the body. Sibley’s guide states that there is much overlap in this feature, and undoubtedly integradation/hybridization (depending on your taxonomic viewpoint) complicates the matter somewhat. Some birds, as always, are best left unidentified. Nevertheless, this wing bar appears to be one of the main differences in separating the females of these species/subspecies, and knowing this is one more weapon in the birder’s identification arsenal.

To see this difference in some more images of female Eurasian Teal in flight check out here, and here. For images of Green-winged Teal check here and here.

Photo Credits

Limpkin – Photo: Wikimedia Commons
Eurasian Teal – © Aron Tanti – Discovering Malta’s Flora & Fauna

First Posted At Volant B.C. on July 27, 2011

Guest Author Bio

Nathan Hentze
My name is Nathan Hentze and I’m a birder, professional biologist, grad student and new dad. I live and grew up in coastal British Columbia, but have called a few other regions of BC home over the years, allowing me to explore many corners of this great province. Birds have also taken me to a few other places around the world (not literally, I usually traveled by car or plane), most notably an extended trip with my lovely wife to South America. I also journeyed to Asia, where I had the great pleasure of working with one of the rarest and most charismatic birds in the world – the Spoon-billed Sandpiper.

I’ve been birding since I was at least 11. Although my focus is always birds, I try to stop and smell the mammals, reptiles, amphibians, butterflies, dragonflies, and other critters along the way. I like long strolls around sewage lagoons (just ask my wife…both our first date and my proposal happened at sewage facilities) and spending hours contemplating strange gulls at waste disposal sites. If we pass each other in the field, please stop and say hello. Until then, good birding.

Blog / Website: Volant B.C.

What’s the Teal-io is a post from: LIFE AS A HUMAN

Many holiday destinations offer to pamper you with deluxe accommodations, gourmet food and a good selection of wines and other libations. The Yukon’s Great River Journey is the only outfit I know that does this in the middle of Canada’s northern wilderness. This recently established enterprise is the brain child of Yukon entrepreneur George Asquith and several First Nations investors.

While the Stampeders of the Klondike Gold Rush suffered great hardship and privation to reach the gold fields from 1897 to 1899, my trip from Halifax to Whitehorse was much faster in the comfort of an Air Canada executive class seat replete with lots of great movies on the flat screen television, comfy seats and a great selection of imported and domestic wines.

Arriving at Whitehorse’s Erik Nielsen International Airport – named for actor Leslie Neilsen’s brother, who was once Canada’s deputy prime minister – I was met by Great River Journey’s Shannon Pearson and whisked to the riverside to board our specially modified river boat, the Shakat. With acres of tinted glass and fitted with first class airline seats, the vessel was expertly designed to expedite comfortable exploration of the Yukon River, North America’s fifth largest waterway.

Cruising downstream with the Shakat’s twin 150 HP outboards purring, we made good time to Lake Laberge – the locale of Sam McGee’s shipboard cremation for Robert Service fans – passing through the barricade and checkpoint at Policeman’s Point where one hundred years ago Sam Steele’s Northwest Mounted Police inspected boats to make sure they were seaworthy for the often rough waters of the lake.

Upper Laberge Lodge is located a short way up the eastern shore of the lake, perched near the ghost town of Upper Laberge. Once hosting the myriad steamships cruising the route from Whitehorse to Dawson, most of the communities along the waterway were abandoned when the highway replaced water transport in the 1950’s.

While I expected a basic level of comfort, I was delighted to discover my rustic cabin sported down comforters on the beds, a propane-powered “wood” stove and an en suite bathroom with a large old fashioned tub. The main lodge was equipped with an amply stocked bar and Chef Carl provided a gourmet dinner with an amazing venison main course, which went down nicely accompanied by a full bodied Australian Shiraz. I decided to throw dietary caution to the wind for the remainder of the expedition.

The next morning our guide, Chris, took his entourage of ten guests out in canoes and kayaks. Mist shrouded the mountains to the west and the golds and reds of the fall leaves glowed in the early morning light. We were delighted to see a woodland caribou splashing through the lake’s shallows as we paddled towards Grizzly Creek. Later in the day we hiked to Lower Laberge and explored the deserted town, now partly restored. Chris pointed out plants such as False Toad Flag reported by the Ta’an people to have potent analgesic properties and fed us on wild berries including high and low bush cranberries. There’d have been no scurvy among the Stampeders if they’d only listened to their First Nations neighbors!

Next day found us cruising up Lake Laberge’s thirty mile coast. We paused for a hike and I noticed colorful beach glass, worn by wave action, no doubt dating from the Klondike. A climb to the top of a 600 foot high hill gave us a fabulous view of spectacular rocky lake shoreline, streaked with gold from the changing aspen, birch and alder leaves.

Next stop was the abandoned community of Lower Laberge for exploration and a shore-side picnic lunch, followed by a cruise up the so-called Thirty Mile River, declared an official Canadian heritage river. Chris promised us at the end of Thirty Mile near the ghost town of Hootalinqua, we’d pay a visit to see Evelyn, a lady over ninety years old who live alone on an island. We were intrigued, but he offered no further explanation.

Cruising along Thirty Mile we enjoyed glorious fall sunshine and constantly changing scenery of craggy hills and mountains, interspersed with sightings of wildlife such as black bear, eagles, hawks and migratory waterfowl on the run from the rapidly approaching winter.

Arriving at Hootalinqua we took an island side trip to meet Evelyn while awaiting a small flotilla of float planes to whisk us north to the Pelly River and Homestead Lodge. Arriving on Steamboat Island Chris led us along a path to the center of the island where Evelyn awaited us. Evelyn was indeed over ninety years old, a still gorgeous steamboat abandoned by its owners on the island. By the time we’d made Evelyn’s acquaintance and explored a bit, our transport north had arrived and we boarded our Beaver and Cessna float planes. The weather by now was partly cloudy with a few showers, gracing our flight with myriad rainbows framing emerald green alpine lakes, colorful stands of aspen and birch and the turquoise waters of the Yukon River.

Next stop was the Homestead Lodge, overlooking the Pelly River and nestled next to the very isolated Pelly Farm. That evening we dined on thick slices of Pelly Farm prime rib and farm fresh vegetables then gathered round the camp fire for readings of Robert Service including The Cremation of Sam McGee, The Shooting of Dan McGrew and the lesser known but hilarious Bessie’s Boil. We all turned in early after an enjoyable but tiring day, only to be woken by Chris in the wee hours. Grumbling, we tumbled out from under our down comforters. The grumbling stopped when we realized we were being treated to a spectacular show which few have an opportunity to see, the Northern Lights.

The next morning a handful of brave souls left before breakfast to bicycle and hike to a lookout point which gave incredible views of the misty, sunlit Pelly River. Coupled with the dazzling fall leaves the scene looked like it had been daubed from some Impressionist painter’s palette.

I picked handfuls of fresh wild sage (carefully sparing the roots) to bring home from the hillsides. The First Nations people consider a sprig of sage hanging in the home to bring cleansing and spiritual purity. Arriving back at the lodge I even sprinkled a little on my Eggs Benedict, made from the eggs of the farm’s free range chickens.

After breakfast, one of the farm’s owners, Hugh, now pushing eighty, gave us a tour of the farm. He still runs the farm’s weather station but leaves the rest of the operation to his nephew. I later saw Hugh and his farm profiled in a 1978 edition of National Geographic.

We spent the afternoon hiking the ridge above the farm, accompanied by a Cliff, a dog rescued by our river pilot, William, the week before (appropriately from a cliff on the river). While we hiked, the dog suddenly began howling. We found out why when we got back to the farm and Hugh told us that a grizzly bear ran across the ridge just after Cliff started howling. Seconds later our group popped out from a stand of trees precisely where the bear had been located. You could say Cliff saved us from a “grizzly” fate.

Leaving the next morning by our river boat, we proceeded on to where the White River enters the Yukon. Stopping here, we observed how the grayish, silt laden glacial waters of the White, contrasted with the clear water of the Yukon. Chris led us on a hike past a small creek, staked with the double post of a prospector, and up a hill to view Shamrock Dome. A recent gold discovery here is thought to be the mother lode of all the gold found in the area.

Our penultimate destination was Wilderness Lodge. Aptly named, this encampment is located many miles from any town or road. Andrew, the manager of the camp, told us he had spotted a wolf pack several nights running and also a cow moose in the cleared areas around the camp. Hiking over to a nearby slough, we saw the prints of the moose and also wolf sign including a paw print the size of my hand! I’m just as glad I didn’t meet face to face with the wolf that made it.

That evening we dined on fresh bison stew and relaxed around the campfire sipping wine or beer from the camps well stocked bar. Afterwards we spent an hour or two admiring the Northern Lights from the comfort of a wood-heated cedar hot tub. I returned to my tent, equipped with a wooden fabric covered floor, comforter bedecked beds, a propane stove and separate bathroom with full size tub and hot and cold running water. Talk about “roughing it” in the wilderness.

The next morning, after an ample breakfast, we headed downstream for the final leg our journey to Dawson City. As we approached Dawson, we passed the famous Klondike River, whose tributary, Bonanza Creek, was the site of the discovery that sparked the famous Klondike Gold Rush of 1897-1899.

On arrival we checked into the Downtown Hotel, infamous for serving the Sourtoe Cocktail, a tradition begun in 1973 when Captain Dick Stevenson found a mummified frost bitten big toe and started serving drinks graced by said toe. Those brave enough to allow the digit to touch their lips get a special certificate.

A tour of the town revealed many restored buildings from the Klondike Gold Rush era. Diamond Tooth Gertie’s offers a casino, a bar and can-can dancers showing off their “shwell looking gams” as Bogey used to say. The Palace Grand, a National Historic Site, offers vaudeville shows in season. Visitors can also explore a section of town where the cabins of Robert Service and Jack London and Pierre Berton’s childhood home are all located kitty corner. Parks Canada employees give regular poetry readings wearing period costume in front of Service’s cabin.

If the Gold Fever strikes, you can try your hand at panning at Claim 33 or go on to see a restored gold dredge and the original Discovery Claim where George Carmack – or his wife Katie, if you choose to disbelieve “lyin’ George” – found gold in August, 1896. Both Dredge No. 4 and the Discovery Claim are National Historic Sites operated by Parks Canada. A prospector named Doyle, who owned Dredge No. 4, with typical Klondike panache, ended up moving to Rumania and having an affair with Queen Marie, while helping smuggle out Russian aristocrats from post-Revolutionary Russia.

If shopping is you shtick, there are lots of stores which sell gold nugget jewelry. Mammoth ivory, often found when digging for gold, is also a popular jewelry material. Myself, I bought a couple of gold pans and vowed to check out some of the old gold mining sites in my neighborhood back in Nova Scotia.

IF YOU GO…

Yukon Larger Than Life
www.travelyukon.com
Toll-free 1-800-661-0494

Send requests in writing to:
Department of Tourism & Culture
Government of Yukon
Box 2703
Whitehorse, Yukon  Y1A 2C6

Photo Credits

All photos by George Burden

This article first appeared in Just For Canadian Doctors

Great River Journey is a post from: LIFE AS A HUMAN

Our recent trip to Tunisia was not an outstanding success for us. True there was a small but pleasant group of people and as a quick all round insight into Tunisian life, the trip was quite satisfactory but the guide, not being an archaeologist, was not knowledgeable about Tunisian history especially the Roman/Phoenician sites.

We left Tunis early in the morning and headed south to Testour a small settlement founded by Muslims fleeing Spain after the reconquest (La Reconquista) of the country by the Catholic Kings. It is famous for its blue doors which give a festive air to an otherwise impoverished and dust filled little town.

We next rollicked along in our tiny bus to the hilltop site of Dougga. Its size, its well-preserved monuments and its rich Numidian-Berber, Punic, ancient Roman and Byzantine heritage make it exceptional. Dougga was an important rallying point for various tribal kings who allied with Rome against the Carthaginians and it became a strategic centre too for the Romans who spared this town after sacking Carthage in 146 BC. It was annexed to Rome by Caesar in 46 and as a Roman town it grew prosperous but from the third century onwards, with the fall of Rome, Dougga started to decline. It was abandoned and deserted with the Vandal invasion, and since then there has only been a small village on the other side of the hills. This probably explains why it is so rich in monuments: it wasn’t near enough to other settlements for its stones and masonry to be re-used.

We stayed the night at the small town of El Kef known for its Kasbah which the French reconstructed and used as a military barracks during their colonial days. It is an important holy site for Sufi Muslims and has a shrine to a well known Sufi Saint – Sidi Bou Makhlouf. The guide forgot to mention that the Algerians used it as a command centre during the Algerian War of Independence in the 1950’s and it was also the provisional capital of Tunisia during World War Two.

Later, we drove on to Makthar to visit the ruins of this extremely ancient pre-Roman fortress which the Numidians used to control the comings and goings of the nomads (mainly Berbers, the original inhabitants of Tunisia). It became even more important after Caesar annexed it in 46BC but suffered the same fate as Dougga under the Vandals and was abandoned in the 11th Century. There were enough remaining ruins for us to get a picture of how idyllic these places were for retired Roman soldiers and well-off colonisers.

After lunch, our destination was Kairouan, the spiritual capital of Tunisia and foremost holy town of North Africa for Sunni Muslims after Mecca, Medina and Jerusalem. It was the first city to convert to Islam and was called the city of 300 mosques. 120,000 pilgrims come here each year.

We stayed the night in Sufetula (Sbeitla) and explored the Roman remains of this superb site the next day. This region was populated in 67-68 AD after various conquests of local tribes under the emperor Vespasian – he who invented the famous ‘pissoir’ still called in French ‘la Vespasienne’, a malodorous example of which existed in my local Lisieux Farmers’ Market for many years next to the Fish Market where it was relatively undetectable. Most remarkable of the few constructions still standing were the three temples dedicated to Juno, Jupiter and Minerva – a Roman equivalent of the three tenors perhaps, for they each have a temple here instead of sharing one huge one as in most Roman sites.

Obviously, the inhabitants were richer and more thankful for their good life which depended on the trade in olives and olive oil, attested to by the Roman grinding stones so similar to our apple grinding stones (pressoirs en granit). Life here was obviously prosperous, peaceful and harmonious, attested to by the existence of seven Christian churches, a baptismal font and a ‘pleasure dome’ in the form of a well-advertised brothel.

More interesting for British tourists was the plaque over one of the town gates dedicated to Antoninus Pius and his two adopted sons, Lucius Verus and Marcus Aurelius. It was Antoninus who built the Antonine Wall across the north of Britain above Hadrian’s Wall when the invading horde of Picts came down like a wolf from the fold. The Vandals did the same to Sbeitla but occupied the town until the Byzantines re-took it then it was sacked by the Arabs in 647 and fell into oblivion.

The afternoon was dedicated to Tozeur, one of the most famous oases in the world on the fringe of the desert surrounded by 7000 acres of date palms and other astounding greenery.

Decoratively built of narrow white bricks, hand crafted in local brickworks which sit in a lunar landscape, Tozeur mainly caters to desert trekking groups and this is where we met the desert fox, as we set forth on our camels like Omar Sharif in Lawrence of Arabia.

 Photo Credits

All Photos By Julia McLean – All Rights Reserved

The Desert Fox – Part One is a post from: LIFE AS A HUMAN

Picture walking through the tundra. What did you see? A vast flat expanse, 24 hours of sunlight, a bounty of singing birds, and the buzz of mosquitoes? Well you’re almost correct…except for the bit about it being flat. Instead, raise your trail up a few metres, drop it down into a snow-pile, then raise it back up. Repeat.

Somehow I manage to work in a variety of “flat” places that end up being anything but flat. The same thing happened to me on the Prairies. My visions of prancing through the flat grass and canola fields were suddenly shattered when I arrived on my Saskatchewan work site. Rolling hills as far as the eye can see. It turned out that Missouri Coteau wasn’t an architectural style.

Well, it’s true that history repeats itself, and I now find myself on the low arctic tundra near Nome, sweating and tripping over willow-fringed hillocks. I’m fairly certain that the term “rolling hills” describes the likelihood of rolling your ankles rather than the hill itself, and don’t let me catch you adding the term “gentle” to the descriptor! If all this weren’t enough, these miniature mountains of mayhem are covered in tussocks of grass. If you haven’t the pleasure of walking across tussocks, imagine a field full of bowling balls resting in cottage cheese, all on a layer of ice.

On one of my recent visits with the ground, I contemplated the grassy demon-bump that felled me. Tussock is a strange name, I thought. At first it sounds rather benign, but if you say it quickly and slightly slurred it can substitute nicely for any expletive you might otherwise use; for example, on your quick re-orientation from vertical to horizontal. “Oh tussock!”

Lapland Longspur on a Tussock

On reconsideration, tussocks may be the most aptly named thing on the tundra. Even the closest town to my camp has a rather anti-climactic etymology. Nome, despite my best guess, is not a native name meaning “place of waist-deep snow one day and chest-deep puddle the next”. In fact, it doesn’t mean anything at all. A series of cartographical type-set errors converted “? Name” to “C. Name” and finally “C. Nome”. But it’s not just towns that have confused names. As I type this Tree Swallows zip past, far from any tree, and Eastern Yellow Wagtails call out from one of the westernmost points in the Americas. Meanwhile the ubiquitous warbling of the Lapland Longspurs ring out, far from the Lapland region of Finland and Sweden.

An Eastern Yellow Wagtail in the West

As always, things are more contoured than they at first appear. Well, I’ve now packed my sandwich and am prepared to head back into the not-so-flat wilds of Alaska. I just need to remember to keep my wits about me and watch my ste….whoooaaaaa…..oh tussock!

Photo Credits

All Photos By Nathan Hentze – All Rights Reserved

First Posted July 18, 2011 at Volant B.C.

Guest Author Bio

Nathan Hentze
My name is Nathan Hentze and I’m a birder, professional biologist, grad student and new dad. I live and grew up in coastal British Columbia, but have called a few other regions of BC home over the years, allowing me to explore many corners of this great province. Birds have also taken me to a few other places around the world (not literally, I usually traveled by car or plane), most notably an extended trip with my lovely wife to South America. I also journeyed to Asia, where I had the great pleasure of working with one of the rarest and most charismatic birds in the world – the Spoon-billed Sandpiper.

I’ve been birding since I was at least 11. Although my focus is always birds, I try to stop and smell the mammals, reptiles, amphibians, butterflies, dragonflies, and other critters along the way. I like long strolls around sewage lagoons (just ask my wife…both our first date and my proposal happened at sewage facilities) and spending hours contemplating strange gulls at waste disposal sites. If we pass each other in the field, please stop and say hello. Until then, good birding.

Blog / Website: Volant B.C.

Tussocky: Not A Town In Italy is a post from: LIFE AS A HUMAN

John and Sandra Nowlan give us a sneak preview of a wonderful all inclusive resort on the Mayan Riviera.

We love authentic Indian food but didn’t expect to find it at an all-inclusive resort along the Mayan Riviera in Mexico. However the five-star Excellence Riviera Cancun that hugs the soft, white sand of the eastern Yucatan peninsula was full of pleasant surprises for the palate and for all the other senses.

Their intimate Indian restaurant called Basmati – with a chef brought in from India – is just one of eight ethnic a la carte dining areas available for guests in a series of low-rise buildings on the immaculate 55,000 square metre property. In a week that passed too quickly we were able to sample them all – Mexican, Asian, French, Italian, Seafood, Steak and a Pizzeria. Reservations are never required. We expected great Mexican food but the adults-only resort clearly puts a lot of effort into creativity and authentic taste in the other venues. All the restaurants also have vegetarian and gluten-free dishes. Our only complaint was with the soggy French fries at lunch. They clearly needed some input from Canada!

On arrival in the spacious modern lobby, guests are greeted with cool towels, glasses of sparkling wine and a genuine welcome from all the bilingual (English-Spanish) staff. All the 440 air-conditioned suites at Excellence Riviera Cancun are large with full marble bathrooms, a Jacuzzi tub, large-screen satellite TV with DVD player, bathrobe & slippers, a complementary mini-bar stocked with water, juice, soft drinks and beer plus a furnished balcony or patio.

We were able to enjoy even more luxury in one of the Rooftop Terrace Suites. In addition to our oceanfront room and balcony on the 4th level – with a Jacuzzi inside and out, a staircase led to a private terrace overlooking the beach and the azure Caribbean Sea. In addition to a comfortable sofa and queen-size sunbed there was a shower and an eight-foot by ten foot HydroSpa pool. It was big enough for several couples! It was a special treat to lie on the lounger at night and gaze up at the star-filled Caribbean sky.

The unique Rooftop Suites are part of the Excellence Club, several areas of the resort that offer a concierge service, daily hors d’oeuvres delivered to rooms and access to a private lounge with snacks and premium drinks. All suites in this section of the resort are also supplied with a variety of premium spirits. When we arrived we looked for a bottle of single malt scotch, our favourite for sipping. The concierge who showed us to our room said he’d be right back and returned shortly with an excellent bottle. We’re not sure where he got it because none of the 10 bars scattered around the resort carried single malt. We were impressed!

The whole layout of the resort was carefully planned for maximum privacy with a style that management calls “Classic Luxury”. The lawns and gardens are well groomed and spacious. The low-density of the buildings promote a laid-back and uncrowded feeling even when the resort is full. Six large serpentine swimming pools meander throughout the property and cover almost 20% of the resort. In many of the suites you can just open the door and go for a quiet swim.

For those who prefer the adjacent beach, the amazing powdery white sand is cleaned each morning and the warm Caribbean is very inviting. You can safely walk for kilometres along the firm sand licked by the waves. In fact the small town of Puerto Morelos is less than an hour’s gentle walk south of the resort and has several great shops for Mexican souvenirs or silver (bargaining is expected). The town also boasts its own leaning tower – a tall beachfront lighthouse that was battered by a hurricane several decades ago.

This was our second stay at one of the impressive Excellence resorts. The Spanish-owned chain is small and low-key with just three properties in the Caribbean – two in Mexico and one in the Dominican Republic – with a fourth now planned for Jamaica. But, they clearly aim to be among the leaders in the upscale, adult-only, all-inclusive holiday and romance segment. The Food and Beverage Director even told us that part of his job is to visit top hotels and resorts around the world to be aware of culinary trends and activities that would enhance the Excellence brand.

We were naturally reluctant to fly back home after a week in this heavenly retreat but the final happy surprise was the Cancun airport, just 25 minutes from the resort. It’s large, very efficient for check-in and has a waiting area with great shopping, restaurants and one of the best duty-free areas we’ve ever encountered. It even had a talented mariachi band to leave lasting musical memories as visitors with great tans and long faces headed back to northern climes.

Luxury and Fine Cuisine in Mexico is a post from: LIFE AS A HUMAN

The forerunners of today’s banking industry first emerged in China during the Song Dynasty (960-1279).

Conducting banking functions including the acceptance of deposits, the making of loans, issuing notes, money exchange, and long-distance remittance of money, these early banks were called the piaohao and were primarily owned by natives of Shanxi Province.

The first piaohao originated from the Xiyuecheng Dye Company of Pingyao. To transfer large amounts of money from one branch to another, the company introduced drafts, cashable in the company’s branches around China.

Although the method was originally designed for business transactions within the Xiyuecheng Company, it became so popular that in 1823 the owner gave up the dye business and reorganised the company as a remittance firm, Rischengchang Piaohao.

In the next thirty years, eleven piaohao were established in Shanxi Province, in the counties of Qixian, Taigu, and Pingyao. By the end of the nineteenth century, thirty-two piaohao with 475 branches were in business covering most of the nation, the forerunners of China’s modern banking system.

Today, the People’s Bank of China is the central bank of the People’s Republic of China, with the power to control monetary policy and regulate financial institutions in mainland China. The bank has more financial assets than any other single public finance institution in recorded history.

China’s foreign exchange reserves hit a record $US1.95 trillion at the end of 2008, the largest in the world.

Photo Credits

All Photos © Vincent Ross – All Rights Reserved

Pingyao – Where Banks Were Born is a post from: LIFE AS A HUMAN

Wizened old men and women sun themselves on shop doorsteps while young men sit in huddles on stools along the cobbled way, playing cards and majong.

One of the best ways to see the sights is riding a bicycle, which can be hired for the day for a couple of US dollars, and when you get tired, you can relax in a hidden courtyard of one of the many small inns and drink a cold Chinese beer.

China’s early banking history began here, and although accounting and finances can be tedious for some, the Rishengchang Financial House Museum, one of the many financial houses which once operated from Pingyao, is well worth a visit.

The museum has nearly 100 rooms, with old accountant’s desks, ledgers and abacuses on display, once the live-in home of bank officials, accountants and specially selected young boys who were chosen to become banking apprentices.

The boys were aged from 13 to 15 years and were required to be of good appearance, have good manners, and be at least 1.67m tall.

The Rischengchang Financial House handled 10 billion yuan over 108 years in operation and all of the company’s account ledgers are now held in the local government office.

In the courtyard of the museum, for only five yuan, an old man dressed in appropriate Qing Dynasty costume will write you a Chinese cheque in ink with a quill pen.

But don’t try and cash it.

Photo Credits

All Photos © Vincent Ross – All Rights Reserved

Pingyao – Bank On The Past is a post from: LIFE AS A HUMAN