Day 2 - Stanley Park

After a fitfull night's sleep for both of us (our bodies are trying to sleep when really they think it's Saturday afternoon and we should be up and about), we decided to get up early and put in a full day, with the prospect of a more complete night's sleep tonight as we force ourselves into the rhythm of this part of the world.

With no direct flights from Manchester to Whitehorse, I'd planned to stop off in Vancouver for a day and look at a part of the city we hadn't seen last time we were here, before catching a flight further up north.  Stanley Park was just a little out of reach on our last visit, so I thought it would be good this time to dedicate a day to it.

Stanley Park is an urban park jutting out between English Bay and the Burrard Inlet.  It was opened in 1888 by Lord Stanley, 16th Earl of Derby and Governer General of Canada at the time (he's the same man responsible for naming the Stanley Cup).  There is a 9 km (5.6 mile) seawall walk around the park, and many interesting and diverse features within.  The park is a fascinating place to visit, especially on so beautiful a day as the one we were given.

Breakfast over (disappointingly small only in that it was a normal sized portion, and not one of the gargantuan breakfasts we've had in Canada in the past), we stepped out onto the path that circles the park.  I deliberately chose this hotel so that we could do this.  It was about 9:30 am and quite quiet apart from the joggers and roller bladers who shared the path with us.  After walking for a while the path split into designated lanes for walkers/joggers, and cyclists/roller bladers/skateboarders.  It's a system that works well.

The sun was out and it was warm, as gorgeous a day as I could have hoped for, and the air was salty with the tang of the sea.  We walked slowly.  I'd read that the 9 km walk can be done in 2 hours, but I reckoned we'd take nearer to 3 hours, with pauses for photo ops and to take in the scenery.  And what beautiful scenery.  To our left was the beach area and then the sea, on our right the trees of the park (an estimated half million of them).  As we walked round in a clockwise direction, more of the north shore of Vancouver came into view, along with a steady stream of huge tankers taking Canadian timber products, grain, and minerals all over the world.

At one point our attention was captivated by swirls in the water, which quickly resolved themselves into four sea otters swimming along the edge of the bay.  A Vancouver resident who also spotted the otters was astonished, and told me he'd never seen anything like it before.  He said that such otters help control the sea urchin population, in a similar way to foxes controlling a rabbit population: more sea urchins, more sea otters.

It was only after he'd gone that Sandra confided she'd thought the otters were sea lions.

On we walked, the sun getting higher in the sky, the north shore of Vancouver now fully exposed and glimpses of the south shore, most notably Canada Place, coming into view.  It was great to see it again (I saw it from the aeroplane as we came in to land, but Sandra missed it).

Finally, after nearly three hours of walking, footsore and blood sugar running low, we cut across the narrowest part of the park and made our way back to a concession stand we'd passed earlier that morning.  Rested, and fuelled with a burger and water/coke, we decided to try and make our way up to Beaver Lake in the middle of the park.  It was not to be.  A lack of a map and an error in path choice by yours truly led us instead around Lost Lagoon (named for a poem by Pauline Johnson).  Our feet were really hurting now, and we decided we'd give Beaver Lake a miss and instead head back to the hotel, pick up something to read, and go and sit on one of the many seats we'd seen by the beach.  Prior to leaving the lagoon we stopped at the Nature House, where a friendly assistant asked us what sort of day we were having.  I assured her we were having a grand time, and pointed to a stuffed beaver in the Nature House.

"Do you have beavers?" I asked, somewhat ungallantly.

"We have four," she replied, "On Beaver Lake".

"Of course, how obvious!" I laughed.

"We saw some earlier," said my darling wife.

There was a pause, then... "They were otters, Sandra."

The friendly assistant gave us a map and directions to Beaver Lake, but it was never going to happen.  We made it as far as the Rose Garden, then headed back to the hotel, having walked an estimated eight or nine miles on feet that were increasingly unwilling to see the funny side.  There Sandra fell asleep, and I wrestled again with the new format Flickr site to bring my eager fans photos of today's activities.

Our main meal tonight was once more at kadoya, because we liked it last night and because it's so close to our hotel.  Looking out over the busy and cosmopolitan crowds thronging the streets and beach, we remarked upon how different this area of Vancouver is compared to the area we stayed in last time.

Before we came back out to Canada this year I tried to remember what I could about Vancouver.  I remember it rained a lot for our first two days, and I remember the mad dash back from Kamloops so that we could go up the Tower and also photograph Canada Place in the sunshine.  It seemed there wasn't that much special to remember this city by.  And yet, as the taxi drove us to our hotel yesterday, and I caught sight of, on the other side of False Creek, the silver squiggle of a statue that represents the liquid state, I felt a lump in my throat, and a feeling like a man gets slipping on a favourite coat or pair of worn but comfortable shoes.

It felt like coming home.

Tomorrow, up with the dawn to catch our flight to Whitehorse, and the real start of this particular Canadian adventure.