Day 3 – Calgary to Banff

We caught the Greyhound bus to Banff. Whenever I have caught Greyhound buses in the past (admittedly always in the USA) they have been filled with the kind of people that would fight you for a cigarette butt and then steal your shoes. This was different, it was well, pleasant. People talked to each other and when they talked to me I didn't immediately think 'oh christ, why do I always get the mentalist who wants to talk about gherkins and Jesus'

Snce arriving in Canada I have been amazed just how friendly everybody is. If it wasn't -22 degrees outside I think I could happily stay here for some time.

I have yet to see a policeman. Or a moose.

Day 2 – Calgary

Our morning was predictably spent at our local Wal-Mart stocking up on extra hats, scarves, coats and a good supply of rum. I wasn't allowed to buy a balaclava as Ciara suggested the combination of me wearing a balaclava and her Irish accent may alarm certain people.

We then headed out for the Olympic park so called because the Winter Olympics were held there in 1988, although it was so long ago everyone still seems to talk about it endlessly, I get the impression nothing much really happens in Calgary. First person to mention The World Cup and 1966 gets a sound beating.

Our plan was to ride the Olympic (Ahhh! even I'm doing it) toboggan track – '2000 metres of downhill, heart-pounding, nerve-shattering icy terror!  – the advertising poster didn't say, but would have done if it had been a roller coaster ride, which is what it is right? 

No actually, I can honestly say a toboggan ride is one of the scariest, most violent forms of 'entertainment' I have ever undertaken. We cracked a top speed of 133kmh which doesn't sound huge, but when you are sitting on what amounts to not much more than a tea tray holding just two thin bits of elastic whilst four G-forces hit you (ask a scientist what that means I just know it bloody hurts) it is. 

I was expecting the toboggan to smoothly run down the ice, shit, I was wondering whether to take my camera and take a few snaps! The thing smashes into the sides, bashing your helmet covered head from side-to-side whilst taking off from the ice and landing bone-crunchingly hard further along the track before climbing five metres into one of the corners and then dropping back to earth. The driver had told us what to do if we turn over on the way down, bloody hell I wish I had listened.

The descent lasted just 59 seconds but I got out thinking that if it had lasted much longer I would have to have gone back to Wal-Mart for some more trousers.

We decided to spend the afternoon at a more leisurely pace which was handy as there is fuck all else to do in Calgary. We wandered around the town which is unremarkable other than the fact it has a cool space-station like system of walkways that are 15 metres above street level which I assume stops the civilian population freezing to death on their way to buying a bagel.

In the evening I found myself  in a pub promising  'Live Premiership football' and settled down for the games. Imagine my shock and horror upon realising that I was 14 hours too late, English time is in front. My massive schoolboy error was only made better by watching the highlights of the laughingly monikered 'title contenders' Liverpool get spanked by Reading.

Day 1 – London to Calgary

I had only spent one day in Canada before this trip – it was bloody freezing, so cold that Niagra didn’t fall it just froze. Ciara and i are in the west for two weeks before heading into to the USA to buy guns and celebrate Xmas with the folks, finally going to China for three weeks of noodles and animal cruelty. that’s the national stereotypes out of the way lets get started.

Our flight departed Gatwick Airport with all the necessary criteria:

One hour delay? Check.

Infant with a whale-like lung capacity seated in front of me? Check.

Bad films? Check.

Films fans would do well to avoid the following: Ratatouille (fine for about 9 minutes), Stardust (DeNiro's lowest moment) and good god alive what were the producers thinking when they made The Holiday? Even Cameron Diaz in the obligatory see-through white shirt and knickers scene can't save this wretched, vacuous film.

Luckily, I had a book to read 'A piece of cake' by Cupcake Brown a story of a Californian girl's descent into drugs, gangs, violence and prostitution, however, I couldn't help thinking what a great name Cupcake Brown was for a hooker, with a name like that I don't think she could have chosen her profession any better. As with all these stories she turns her life around and becomes a lawyer, seriously, would you employ a lawyer called Cupcake? The story was written in the vernacular which caused problems when the stewardess asked if I wanted coffee and I replied 'Yol damn right mothafuckin bitch'. I read 200 pages on the plane it's a great book, buy it today.

The flight went from bad to worse when three of the five toilets stopped working which caused the kind of queues only seen outside Primark on an "All items £2' day. Luckily the bastard airline had the cheek to charge for all alcoholic drinks so I didn't have to use them as much as usual.

For whatever reason the flight from London heads North flying over Iceland, Greenland and Canada before turning South to land in Calgary this had the strange effect of us taking off at 13,00 in daylight, the sky turning pitch black after a few hours before landing 9 hours later back in daylight at 16.00.

The temperature on landing was a brisk -6. The staff at the tourist information desk told us there were two ways to get from the airport into Calgary, either a taxi for about $65 or a bus with all the scum bags for £2.50. So the bus it was. Some fella told us where to get off the bus and which train to take but 'the train will be full as it is rush hour'. We discovered that 'rush hour' in Calgary meant being in a carriage with enough room to put up a tent.

With the temperature dropping rapidly we got to where we were staying before frostbite set in. After relaxing for a while and not wanting to fall asleep at 19,00 we decided to go out for a few pints and some food. The temperature had now dropped to a ball-clenching -19 (I'm not sure how Ciara would describe it) and the difference was unbelievable. It was now so cold that after only about 5 minutes I was losing all feeling in my hands and face, we fell through the door of the first pub we got to as though we had trekked the North face of Everest.

What is that thing scouts say about being prepared? Well, I wasn't fucking prepared for this. Even bouyed by 4 pints of (incredibly fine) Canadian beer the short trip home was awful. We made two huge cups of tea to try and get some warmth back and then immediately fell asleep having been travelling for nearly 24 hours.