Did you ever wake up with this urge to see 11,000 gannets? Well, that's apparently how many there are at Cape St. Mary's Ecological Reserve here in Newfoundland. At the tip of a peninsula that juts out into the frigid Atlantic, this ecological reserve just happens to be home to one of the largest . . .
Once upon a time, the continents of Africa and North America got up close and personal with one another. So close, in fact, that they collided, forcing the earth's mantle to push up through the crust and form a bare red mountain landscape that looks quite out of place in Gros Morne National . . .
Hiking through sand is a devilish thing. Your heels sink down with every step and soon your ankles are moaning from the extended and unrelenting angle of uphill motion. An hour feels like an eternity. An eternity of wondering if anyone ever thought to do this in snowshoes or skis. An eternity of . . .
When I moved out west, the mountains were a big factor in the decision. Knowing that you can escape for a weekend to a place of sandstone and shale, snow caps and glaciers, expanses of evergreen, bears and deer, is enough to cure any working-day doldrums (that's the first time I've ever used that . . .
Katla was a name I saw repeatedly when I arrived in Iceland. It was the name of the Icelandair plane that I flew on, the brand of Icelandic vodka I happened to pick up at the duty free when I arrived in the country, and came up regularly in tourist centres, museums, and in pamphlets. Why? Katla . . .