Ottawa, 16-18 May 2011

Canadian distances are unimaginably huge.  A four-hour flight in Europe would get you across the continent, to northern Scandinavia or southern Italy, even north Africa.  Here, though, the rules are different.  The plains of Saskatchewan and Manitoba have opened up beneath me, Edmonton and the Rockies are a distant memory, and in front of me lies an entirely different Canada - one of power and influence, of bustling cities and frantic commuting, a clash of British and French language and ideals, where European culture meets North American brash.

Our arrival at Ottawa Macdonald-Cartier Airport is four hours late, and whilst virtually every other passenger on board makes a scrum at the service desk to re-book missed connections, I collect my bag and head coolly for the city.  Sixteen dollars later, I'm aboard the YOW Airporter, driven slightly maniacally by a man I'm sure I recognise from playing the role of Freddie Trumper in a recent production the musical Chess.   Freddie's motto is "to get you there fast but safe", which he takes to mean swinging around corners, breaking city speed limits, and running the occasional red light.  Freddie certainly knows his way around the city though, bumping passengers to their expensive hotels until only the stragglers remain.  I am the last of them, deposited at a modestly-priced but brilliantly located hotel.  Wishing Freddie a fond farewell, I check in for long-awaited hot shower.

I am awoken next morning by the gentle tapping of rain against the hotel window.  The Ottawa weather is a lot like the British weather - chilly, wet, grey and breezy, and it hasn't cleared by the time I step out onto the pavements.  On first impression, Ottawa is as busy as any other capital city, but lacks the urgency and energy of London, Berlin or Madrid, probably due to its smaller population (c.1.1 million) and its inauspicious history.  For you see, Ottawa was never destined to be capital at all, and was only given the title when Queen Victoria was asked to choose a common capital for Canada in 1866.  Ottawa was primarily chosen for political purposes - it lies a roughly equal distance from English-speaking Toronto and French-speaking Quebec City, and had a neutrality that it was assumed would keep the peace.  The result of Ottawa's new-found status was the construction of the Parliament Building, on a raised area of land overlooking the Ottawa River, appropriately named Parliament Hill.  The imposing Gothic structures, with their copper roofing that have earned a natural green tinge over the years, are beautiful in their own way, but they have a certain darkness, a definite sense of British Victorian power.  Dotted around the grounds are several statues, including the "Women are Persons" monument, commemorating the overturning of a law banning women from being elected to the Senate because they were not considered 'qualified persons'.  The Canadian press of 1929 had a field day with this verdict, ironically headlining the new discovery that women were indeed people too.

The Parliament Building, Ottawa

"Women are persons"

Across Wellington Street, which runs away from Parliament Hill, is the Canadian National War Memorial and Valiant's Gallery, which depicts 14 greats of Canadian military history.  These include Lieutenant Colonel Charles-Michel d'Irumberry de Salaberry, a professional soldier who outwitted and defeated a vastly superior American force at the Battle of Chateauguay in the War of 1812, thus saving lower Canada from invasion.  Also represented is Laura Secord, who in that same war overheard plans for a surprise American attack, and struggled through miles of dense bush to warn the Commander of the British outpost.  Native Americans are also represented - Thayendanegea (Joseph Brant) was a Mohawk warrior who led his people in support of the British, bringing them north to Canada, to settle after the American Revolution.  It's interesting (and somewhat unfamiliar) to see both British and French people celebrated on the same side of the battle, but although these colonial rivals were foes and enemies, it is essential to remember that both were instrumental in the development of modern Canada, and as such, personalities from both nations are celebrated as national heroes here.

Thayendanegea

Canada's National War Memorial stands at nearby Confederation Square, a huge granite cenotaph with bronze sculptures, depicting a group of young men pulling an artillery gun.  Originally erected to commemorate the fallen of the First World War, it was rededicated in 1982 to take into account World War II and the Korean War, and the tomb of the unknown soldier was added in 2000.  A competition was held to design the memorial, with the eventual winner being one Vernon March from Farnborough, Hampshire, who set out to represent the Canadian response to the war, with servicemen of all disciplines marching through a triumphal arch.  The memorial was not finished until 1938, and not unveiled until King George VI visited in 1939.  He was so impressed that he said: "The Memorial speaks to the world of Canada's heart... One sees at a glance the answer made by Canada when the world's peace was broken and freedom threatened in the fateful years of the Great War.  It depicts the zeal with which the country entered the conflict."

The front of the National War Memorial

The Canadian war effort has never been forgotten, especially by those who owe their lives to Canadian servicemen.  My visit to Ottawa has happily coincided with the annual Tulip Festival, which sees the flamboyant flowers poking up everywhere.  The Festival has its roots in the Nazi occupation of the Netherlands, during which time Canada sheltered the Dutch Royal Family in the Ottawa Civic Hospital, the grounds of which were designated international territory by the Canadian government.  Here, Princess Juliana gave birth to Princess Margariet in 1943, named after the marguerite, the flower worn during the war as a symbol of resistance to Nazi rule.  The day after her birth, the Dutch flag was hoisted atop the Canadian Parliament building - the only time a foreign flag has ever flown there.  Canadian troops, meanwhile, were playing a vital role in the liberation of the Netherlands.  A starving population in the western Netherlands were saved by Canadian airdrops of food and supplies, and took to their rooftops to paint signs saying "Thank you, Canadians!"  The First Canadian Army, through battles such as Scheldt and Arnhem, were liberating the country and its population, swiftly distributing food to a people brought to their needs by Hongerwinter ("Hunger Winter") a winter which had claimed more than 18,000 lives.  

To show their appreciation for Canada's assistance in all of this, the people of the Netherlands sent 100,000 hand-picked tulip bulbs as a post-war gift in 1945.  They were planted on Parliament Hill, pleasing Princess Juliana so much that in 1946, she sent another 20,000 bulbs, with a promise of 10,000 more each year.  Ottawa quickly became famous for its tulips, and the first Canadian Tulip Festival was organsied in 1953.  Nowadays, the flower symbolises peace, friendship and freedom.

Tulips in bloom during Ottawa's Tulip Festival

Tulips in bloom during Ottawa's Tulip Festival

Parliament Hill overlooks the Ottawa River, which also marks the boundary between Ontario and Quebec, the two provinces being linked by the magnificent "Royal Alexandra Interprovincial bridge", constructed by the Canadian Pacific Railways between 1898-1900, and seemingly made entirely of Meccano.  It is across this bridge that I achieve the feat of walking into Quebec, technically leaving Ottawa and entering the town of Gatineau (or as it used to be romantically called, Hull).  I'm actually here to explore the wonderful Canadian Museum of Civilization, where I intend to spend the rest of the day.  The museum includes extensive galleries on 20,000 years of history of First Peoples and a  brilliant "streetscape" walk-through of Canadian history, beginning with Viking explorers, the first non-Native people known to have set foot on Canadian soil, and moving through ranchers, whalers, fur traders, bison hunters, fishermen, timber traders, politicians, rebels, shipyard workers, Chinese immigrants, railway builders, union leaders, oil prospectors, and so on.  The list is as endless as the Canadian plains, and each group has its own story to tell.

The front of the Canadian Museum of Civilization is designed to resemble a tribal mask

Walking through Canadian history

The museum's Grand Hall makes the perfect focal point of a visit, filled with totem poles and recreations of Aboriginal houses.  The backdrop to the hall is a 350x45-foot wide photograph of a forest scene, said to be the largest photograph in the world.  Also in the hall are numerous sculptures, and if I had to pick one item that I would call iconic, it would be the sculpture entitled Spirit of Haida Gwaii, created by the Haida people of the Pacific Northwest and the artist Bill Read, whose mother was of Haida descent.  The sculpture here is actually only the plaster pattern, the real bronze cast sculpture taking permanent residences outside the Canadian Embassy in Washington DC, but I love it nonetheless.  It depicts a traditional Haida cedar dugout canoe carrying prominent characters of Haida mythology, including a raven, a mouse-woman, a grizzly bear, the bear-mother, the grizzly's human wife, a beaver, a dogfish-woman, an eagle, a frog, a wolf, and human paddler, and the focal point of the sculpture, a human shaman, who wears a Haida cloak and woven spruce root hat, and holds a staff carved with a sea-bear, raven and killer whale.  The significance of the passengers is highly symbolic - the raven holds the canoe's steering oar, indicating that nature is unpredictable and can throw anybody into uncharted territory.  The passengers do not always live in harmony aboard the vessel, but they depend on each other to live, and are thus all rowing in the same direction.  It's the same theme you pick up in the war memorial, of different people pulling together for the good of the nation.

Spirit of Haida Gwaii

The Grand Hall

Next morning, and with the weather still defiantly British, I set off on two personal travel missions.  Firstly, I've discovered that my battery charger is incompatible with Canadian plug adaptors, so I'm off to buy new batteries.  Second, I've realised that I forgot to pack my nail clippers.  Every crisis is an opportunity of course, and a quick visit to the Rideau shopping centre (one of those places Canadians describe as "small" but is still enormous) not only solves my woes, but puts me in touch with the Ottawa Senators' official hockey shop.  The 'Sens have had a rocky season, but they've got a proud history, including a load of Stanley Cup wins in hockey's formative years, and participation in a 1904 game against Winnipeg that the Winnipeg Free Press called "the bloodiest game in Ottawa".  The Toronto Marlborough's fared no better when they turned up for a game later that same year, as reported in the Toronto Globe newspaper: "The style of hockey seems to be the only one known and people consider it quite proper and legitimate for a team to endeavour to incapacitate their opponents, rather than to excel them in skill and speed... slashing, tripping, the severest kinds of cross-checking and systematic method of hammering Marlboroughs on hands and wrists are the more effective points in Ottawa's style."  Beautiful.

I've only got one afternoon left in Ottawa, and I've been recommended the Canadian War Museum, accessible via a baffling set of footpaths and crossings across multi-lane highways.  The museum takes a look at war dating as far back as the First Nations, before examining the effect of Europeans, and the theatre of war which was created with the arrival of two rival colonial powers, the British and the French. Fighting had taken place and all manner of alliances made and broken between the powers and the native population, but it all came to a head during the Seven Years' War (1754-63) which was effectively ended in North America with the British victory at the Battle of the Plains of Abraham (more on this in Quebec).  No sooner was peace established, then old foes united to fend off the invasion of Americans - first in the American capture of Montreal in 1775, and again at the War of 1812, when Canada came perilously close to becoming a part of the US.  Moving on in time, Canada sent troops to the Boer War, the First World War, the Second World War and Korea, and continues to contribute towards UN peacekeeping operations, as well as being a member of NATO.  This feels like quite a lot of war for a relatively small population.

Boer War reconstruction

Nieuport biplane at the Canadian War Museum

The story of Canada's wars is displayed and explained very well in the museum's many galleries, which places Canada in its international context throughout.  There are some fascinating artefacts on display too - Hitler's car is here (described as a "symbol of evil"), and there are some very good reconstructions, including of a First World War trench, and Italian house reduced to a shell during World War II, and a 1950s Cold War living room, amongst others.  I especially enjoy the 1980s Cold War jukebox, featuring such hits as The Scorpions' Wind of Change and Europe's Final Countdown, however I choose Elton John's Nikita which, to my surprise, is then blasted out across the museum.

The Canadian War Museum may be a museum of war, but its message to the world is very much one of peace and hope, and my take-home is that we can only achieve these if we learn about human mistakes.  In the final gallery, a video on the wall contains a Kofi Annan quote about the Cold War, that I think is worth remembering: "The nations and peoples of the United Nations have been given a second chance... With the Cold War ended... There is a need to ensure that the lessons of the past four decades are learned and that the errors, or variations of them, are not repeated.  For there may not be a third opportunity for our planet."

My brief stay in the Canadian capital has come to an end, but I leave with a lot of liking for little Ottawa - it is clean, tidy, efficient, beautiful, safe, and has everything you need to live well.  Tomorrow I will negotiate the city's bewildering bus network and find my way to the railway station, where I'll board a train to somewhere a little more fiesty: Montreal.

The Canadian Rockies, 11-15 May 2011

The Rocky Mountains lie like the spine of the North American continent, straddling the US and Canada for some 3,000 miles, from northern New Mexico to the upper stretches of British Colombia.  They skirt some 230 miles to the west of Edmonton, about a four-hour drive across relatively flat and windy plains, on a road known as Highway 16.  You know the Rockies are coming, but the transformation in the landscape is still something to behold, a true natural wonder of the world.  Being driven through Jasper National Park, I was overwhelmed by the snow-capped peaks and raw cutting rivers - and surprised to learn that in landscape terms, Jasper is known as the "gentle giant" of the national parks, in comparison to its even more rugged neighbours.

Jasper National Park

The town of Jasper itself is cute, clean and tidy, and mostly full of gift shops and cafes.  In the centre of the town, an early 20th century train station is a reminder that the town grew up on the railways, and still has a direct line to Toronto, a good 1,700 miles away.  Everything in Canada is massive - as I sit for a while at the station, I watch and count as a 171-carriage freight train passed through, which was simply astonishing.  A small crowd also gathers ready to catch the 4pm service to Toronto, showing that the route still has its fans, despite ever-decreasing air fares.  Our lodgings for the next couple of nights is called Alpine Park, a series of log cabins in the woods, a stone's throw from the powerful and fast-flowing Athabasca River.  The cabins are cosy and contain modern amenities, most importantly a firm lock on the door to keep our four-pawed intruders - we are in classic bear country here.  Leaving the cabin, I stroll down to the river and walk along the shore, hoping to catch a glimpse of a moose or bear, but all I see are a few chipmunks darting around the bases of the trees.

Alpine Park

The Athabasca River

Waking the next morning in slight bemusement, it takes a moment to remember quite where I am.  After a cooked breakfast in Jasper, we take off to explore some of the many mountainous lakes that form the landscape around here.  The weather is defiantly wintry - not yet snowing, but fairly cold with a slightly ominous sky - as we visit Pyramid Lake, Patricia Lake (where we see a loon, a beautiful water bird), and then the beautiful Maligne Lake, still fringed with snow.  The road to Maligne Lake is not without its obstacles - firstly, a cautious group of mountain sheep cross our path, before a series of wildlife warning signs, including a stark warning to stay inside our cars should we encounter bears.  Maligne Lake sits much higher than Jasper, and it tells, the well-frozen lake sitting deep in the grip of winter, with snow coming up to my knees at some points.  Despite this, encountering Maligne Lake will be one of my most favourite memories - I'll never forget first gazing upon its sullen, almost Arctic waters.

A loon at Patricia Lake, popping up at just the right time for my camera

Maligne Lake in a haunting winter shroud

With the sleet closing in around us, we bid farewell to Maligne Lake to head back to Jasper and lower ground,  Once close to Jasper, Ed suddenly takes a left turning, purely out of curiosity for where the road leads, and we are soon in a dense pine forest, before crossing a small bride over a river.  Suddenly out of nowhere, a brown bear moves away from the bridge and and into the trees - I prepare for a camera shot, but as my finger lingers on the shutter the bear bolts out of view.  I'm gutted to miss the shot, but that feeling is quickly eclipsed - many people come to the Rockies and never see a bear, and I know how lucky I've been.

The next morning we go for a walk at Maligne Canyon, the deepest canyon in the national park, in which flows the Maligne River, mainly underground, but popping up here-and-there through a series of natural springs.  At the top of the canyon, the river is still frozen, but towards the bottom and under the protection of the forest, water rushes at a fast pace.  The Maligne River is fed by Maligne and Medicine Lake, which often means there's large fluctuations in water flow through the course of the year.  It seems quite powerful on my visit, and the landscape is somewhat raw, but extremely beautiful.

Moving on from Maligne Canyon, we're heading in the direction of Athabasca Falls, but not before we decide to try our luck once more at yesterday's bear site.  We aren't quite as lucky today, but a big-horned sheep peers over a precipice far above, so it certainly is not a wasted journey.  My feeling about the Rockies is that you never quite know what you're going to see, so you always need to stay alert - as we drive off from this spot, a coyote crosses the road in front of us.

Maligne Canyon

Big-horned sheep

Athabasca Falls is billed as providing some of the most dramatic water falls in the national park, in which the Athabasca River plunges some 23 metres through a narrow gorge.  It's not actually the height which separates this waterfall from others, but the sheer force of the flow, for a great quantity of water is pushed through a relatively small space.  So powerful is this effect, that it is causing the rockface to slowly erode here, so that the whole site is slowly moving backwards.  Dry gorges exist where the water used to flow, before erosion forced it take another course, resulting in a dramatic landscape, and one that is popular with tourists, sometimes to devastating effect.  Most recently, a young German student took one step too far beyond the barriers to get the perfect photo, fell into the falls and was swept away.  I stay on the right side of the barriers, from which you still get an excellent view, and for the hundredth time in the last two days, I'm standing in awe of nature.

Athabasca Falls

It's time to leave Jasper, but not the Rockies.  The Icefields Parkway connects Jasper with the town of Banff, around 150 miles away and it known globally for being one of the word's most picturesque roads.  Here the Columbia Icefield sits astride the Continental Divide between Alberta and British Columbia.  Part of this icefield is the Athabasca Glacier, open for visits and accessed via the enormous Ice Explorer all-terrain vehicles.  Incidentally, Brewster, the company who operates tours here, owns 22 of the 23 vehicles of this type that exist in the world - the only other one is used by the US Army for research trips in the Antarctic.  The glacier itself is some 10,000 years old, and makes for an amazing excursion. It's all pretty hard to comprehend - the ice beneath our feet is as deep as the Eiffel Tower.  Even more amazing, I am lucky enough to have witnessed a distant avalanche, a volume of snow and ice falling in the far distance, followed by a rumble of late-arrived sound waves.

The Athabasca Glacier

The Icefields Parkway, one of the world's most beautiful roads

Following the Icefields Parkway south, we stop off at the famous Lake Louise, known for its turquoise beauty, but entirely frozen over during the prolonged winter of 2011.  From here, it's on to the town of Banff, a delightful town for the snow sports enthusiast, and for anyone else in need of a beer and a bowl of fries.  We find our way to Tommy's Bar, which is showing the latest hockey match (Boston are losing to Tampa Bay), and has a whole load of fascinating wall decor, old tin signs and car registration plates.  What I love about Banff is its situation - for it is surrounded by mountains - and its Cascade T Shirt store, which sells a phenomenal array of sports merchandise - jerseys, T-shirts, caps, hockey pucks, wall tapestries, and so much more.  As well as treating myself here, I also found a Native-made necklace and a small soft toy Mountie wolf dog for Lizzie.

Banff Avenue, Banff

Cascade T Shirts store, Banff

My time in the Rockies comes to an end in Banff, and in no time at all we are riding back to Edmonton (which involved spying Calgary from a distance, including the ski-jump made famous by 1988 Winter Olympic hero Eddie the Eagle) along the wide, empty and windy plains.  Ed says these featureless plains extend all the way to Ontario, an expanse that I will be bridging tomorrow when a four-hour flight will take me to the Canadian capital, a long way from the plunging rivers and frozen glaciers of this stunning mountain range.

Edmonton - 9-10 May, and 29-30 May 2011

Flight AC899 falls out of the sky and crashes into the Alberta countryside.  Or at least that's how it felt.  A beautiful flight has been had since take-off from Heathrow, and through clear skies we've seen the rugged coastline of northern Scotland; Iceland; Greenland; and Baffin Island.  The northern reaches of Canada are laid bare below us, a landscape of mountain peaks, lakes and frozen rivers stretching on forever.  I think, as we glide over it all, how I may still be glimpsing at small corners of the world where no man has ever trodden, such is the hostility of the wilderness.  No roads, no settlements, nothing man made - but how many wolves, bears and moose?  The ice slowly clears as we head south west, the odd field and road begins to appear, then the odd settlement.  We prepare for our descent to Edmonton, and like a scene from a horror film, our aeroplane begins to tip this way and that, rocks up, falls down.  The ground suddenly appears beneath us and we crunch into it at 200 miles an hour.  We come to a halt; out of the window I see fields and wilderness.  At this point I'm fairly certain we've crash-landed.  Then the announcement: "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Edmonton."

Eight miles above Baffin Island

Edmonton, population c.1,000,000, capital of Alberta Province, and a city built on oil.  I'm with my dad and his partner Sue, who are visiting their friends Ed and Debs, who live in one of the city's suburbs.  I'll stay with them for a few days before flying east alone, to explore the four great cities of eastern Canada - Ottawa, Montreal, Quebec City and Toronto.  For now though, it's out the airport and into Ed's long old Buick, which I notice has racked up 325,180 miles on Canada's endless roads.  My first impression of Edmonton is that it's one big construction site, as we drive through miles of building and road works.  It's about 3pm here - 10pm back home - and once we've reached their home in the quiet and pleasant suburbs, there's only one thing to do: have a beer and sit in the glorious spring sunshine.

Jet-lagged and all-too-briefly rested, the following morning we are taken to Elk Island, a 75-square-mile wildlife reserve.  As far as I can fathom, Elk Island is neither an island nor full of elk, but there were some brilliant bison to be seen, an abundance of frogs to be heard, and plenty of ducks.  The reserve itself is suffering from a particularly long-lasting winter, and by now trees are usually in leaf and bud.  Nonetheless, there's a clearness in the air that makes this the perfect antidote to yesterday's transatlantic flight.

Bison at Elk Island

Our first afternoon in Edmonton, and it's off to "West Ed" to take a look at the biggest shopping mall in the world.  I'm surprised to hear Canada take this crown over their brash neighbours, but the statistics don't lie - more than 800 shops and eateries, an ice rink (of course), a multiplex cinema, a pitch-and-putt, a hotel, a swimming pool, and a rollercoaster and theme park complex.  Apparently, people come to stay here for a week and never leave the mall, spending their time using the countless facilities.  Truly there's something for everyone - for me, it's the sports memorabilia stores and the array of hockey jerseys - apparently I like them all.

I feel we've only scratched the surface of the mall, before we are taken for a tour of downtown Edmonton, passing the high-rise skyscrapers, the Rexall Centre (then home of the Edmonton Oilers hockey team, who have since moved to a new arena), and Chinatown, eventually arriving at the Alberta Legislature Building, seat of the Alberta Government.  It's got all the usual grand and impressive features, including the domed roof.  Within, we are told to stick to the ground floor, unless we wanted to sit in on proceedings, in which case passes would be arranged, but declining this opportunity to watch democracy in action, we settle for the flags and memorials of the round welcome hall.

Downtown Edmonton

The Alberta Legislature, Edmonton

On my final day in Edmonton (which occurred after my visit to Canada's eastern cities) we visit Fort Edmonton Park, the main draw of which is the reconstructed fort, a fur-trading post dating from 1795.  Here, the famous Hudson's Bay Company established an outpost for trading with the native population, swapping native-caught furs for a variety of goods, including guns and blankets.  Traders from here would make the four-month journey along the river system (the North Saskatchewan River flows close to the fort) and all the way to Hudson Bay, returning with skins, furs and beaver pelts, with which they could purchase their wares - everything here was traded, there was no physical currency.  Fort Edmonton seems to be faithfully reconstructed, and aside from the trade store, there is a meat store, ice house, boat shed, blacksmith, and living quarters, the most high-status being the Rowand House, once home to John Rowand, Hudson's Bay Company fur trader and Chief Factor (a type of trader) at the fort.  The house contains all manner of living luxuries.

The Rowand House in Fort Edmonton

Fort Edmonton trading post

Beyond the fort, three streets lead back to the entrance of the park, lined with a number of authentic buildings that have been relocated from their original positions in the Edmonton area.   The first street, 1885 Street, contains such establishments as a school house, Methodist church, and drug store. Establishments along 1905 Street include a Masonic Hall, a photography shop, fire station and some of the neighbourhood's finer houses.  On 1920 Street, there's the Capitol Theatre, a garage known as the Motordome, and a Ukrainian bookshop (not as surprising as it first appears to the outsider, for there were some big waves of Ukrainian immigration to Canada in the 19th and early 20th centuries).

1885 Street, Fort Edmonton

Ross Brothers Hardware Store on 1885 Street

I've always thought that you don't really get an understanding of a place until you delve into its history, and it's at Fort Edmonton that I feel I connected with the real Edmonton - the one that existed before oil, before hockey, before big malls and wide roads, when the whole of Canada was still on the fringes of the map, ripe for exploration and discovery.  

On the steps of the Rowand House, Fort Edmonton

Looking back to Canada

It's been ten years since I travelled around Canada, and to celebrate, I'm going to do a blog series through the rest of May, looking back on some of the places I discovered.  Nich About Town came along about a year after my visit to Canada, so I never recorded my trip on this blog.  It's time to remedy that, and at the same time launch a new My travels page, where I've collated all my travel blogs to date.

Canada was a great trip and gave me some of my favourite memories - but it ended up being more than just another trip.  My travels around Canada came at something of a crossroads in my life, and looking back now, I realise how much I used that break away from normality to plan the next stages of my life, and get myself on some sort of trackway.  After Canada, everything started to come together, and I know that was no coincidence.

It was also a brilliant adventure, of course, and one to which my mind often thinks back with fondness.  Blogging about it on here opens out a lot of wonderful memories, and also makes me mull over future holidays, to discover other parts of the country, and revisit old favourites. 

My trip to Canada shaped me in many different ways - it was the right place at the right time in my life, and I look forward to sharing some of my memories with you over the coming weeks.  The fun starts on 9 May.

The Archaeology Files - Trethevy Quoit

Date of visit: 25 April 2021
Location: East of the village of St Cleer, 2 miles north of Liskeard, Cornwall
Time period: Neolithic, 4,000 BC to 2,500 BC
Type of site: A well-preserved Neolithic portal dolmen burial chamber
Photos: Trethevy Quoit site visit photo album 

Arriving at the five-space designated car park, the first thing you notice on a visit here are the signs indicating a World Heritage Site, not because of prehistoric monuments, but because of the mining landscape.  The reminder of Cornwall's mining heritage is everywhere, dotted about the landscape in all directions.  It's not the point of this site visit, but it is an interesting aside, and one that connects a more modern age with our ancient ancestors, through distinctive exploitation of the landscape.  I wonder what heed the miners paid monuments such as Trethevy Quoit, and I wonder if it had any influence on their traditions and superstitions.

Cornwall's rich mining heritage is evident all around, on a visit to Trethevy Quoit

Trethevy Quoit is a very nicely-preserved portal dolmen, a type of monument quite specific to Cornwall (and more usually, western Cornwall - Trethevy Quoit is an anomaly, being so far east), dating to the early or middle Neolithic (3500-2500BC.)  These structures are largely considered to be tombs, although it is not certain if this was their intended use - quite possibly they were multipurpose, or used in ceremony or worship.  

Trethevy Quoit.  Note the slightly raised ground around the base of the monument - possibly the remains of a mound or cairn which once covered the structure

The structure consists of five standing stones, topped by a huge capstone (estimated to weigh 10.5 tons), which slopes downwards from back-to-front at a much steeper angle than was originally designed.  This is because one of the supporting granite stones - the most westerly - collapsed at some point in the past, and now lies within the chamber itself.  Had this stone continued to stand, the capstone would rest roughly horizontally on top.  The structure stands 2.7 metres (9 feet) tall, and at its highest point, the capstone has a hole - possibly manmade - with one suggestion being that it was used for astronomical observations.  It is thought that the chamber was originally covered by a mound or cairn - you can see this in the slight remains of a low mound at the sides and back of the structure, but not at the entrance.  Local tradition states that the stones were set up by a giant, with the hole in the capstone being made by the giant's thumb, in order to lift the monument into its present position.  It is from this legend that the site gets an alternative name, The Giant's House.

A sketch of Trethevy Quoit from 1848 (artist unknown)

My overriding impression at Trethevy Quoit is one of awe, in how people managed to move such enormous hulks of granite - especially the raising of the capstone, and at a time when calories were so precious.  I believe this boils down to two aspects - firstly, a community must have had enough sustenance, and been confident in the supply of that sustenance, to undertake this project.  Second, a community must have had a complex level of organisation.  Simply put, once agriculture was adopted at the onset of the Neolithic, human communities evolved to become more sedentary and organised.  The supply of food was more reliable compared to the hunter-gatherer way of life, which in turn meant that communities started to lay down roots, explore myths, legends and spirituality associated with their immediate landscape, and began building monuments on a scale previously inaccessible.  Of course, none of this takes away from the amazing manpower required to lift such huge stones without the use of modern machinery - we simply couldn't do it today.

In November 2017, Trethevy Quoit was added to Historic England's Heritage at Risk Register, due to the damage previously caused by fencing and increasing erosion by livestock.  Nowadays, the site is fenced off in its own enclosure.