Day 32: The temptation of Banff

Continued…

Before I embarked on my epic coach journey I spoke to Tim to confirm that the ski lifts were still open.He told me that it hadn't snowed for days so I was a bit worried.He also told me the address of his house, which was on Grizzly Street.He informed me that all the streets in Banff were named after animals.I told him flatly that I didn't believe him. Famous politicians, men and women of great achievements; these were the basis for street names.Not animals.I laughed it off as Tim's youthful hum our and folly.

About 10 hours into the journey I woke up from a hunched, feotal position and realized it was reasonably bright and to my surprise the scenery outside the window resembled a magical winter wonderland.Thick snow covered trees, roads, everything, rivers were frozen over and it looked like it was getting heavier.Schweet.Tim must've been winding me up.

I got into Banff with heavy snow still coming down.I extracted myself from the coach seat with difficulty and was sure my spine had taken on the slight curvature of the seat.I thanked the Greyhound Company in my head for possibly the most uncomfortable experience of my life and in true British style thanked the driver politely, as I disembarked, for inflicting it on me.Let me take a moment to have a brief moan:Why in China - a supposedly developing country could they have sleeper buses fitted out with several rows of reasonably comfortable bunk beds and here in North America (practically America - don't tell the Canadians I said that) could they not make the fricking seat recline more than several inches when you're on the stupid thing for more than half a day!!! Grrrrrr.Ok, I feel better now.

I jumped in a Cab to Grizzly Street.The cabby dropped me off at what he thought was Grizzly but he didn't seem too sure.Lugging my huge board bag and rucksack around in the snow I knocked on 133 and no-one answered.I had explicitly asked Tim to be up and several houses later I was cursing his name, all his kin and the fact my phone had run out of juice.An amicable lady came to her door and asked me who I was looking for and I told her.She said "Oh, is it Sarah you're looking for?".I explained I wasn't too sure.She invited me into her house - bizarrely through a gap in the fence - and I went in armed with my phone charger.

A man was also in the house and they introduced themselves.Now I was a bit sleepy and I swear they said they were named 'Maude' and 'Claude' but this with hindsight does not seem plausible.Either way that is how I remembered them.There was a distinct but faint smell of weed in the air - even middle aged, middle class people smoke weed in Canada it seemed, although there was a slight hint of new-age hippy about them. They were extremely nice and explained they knew Sarah, who was in a room that they pointed at in the opposite house I had knocked on.They pleasantly recounted how she had served them in a bar and apparently "she's real nice.Yep, the English gal wid shawt hare.Ah reel cuutey".They offered me a plug socket and a seat. I rang Tim, and he answered thankfully and I arranged to meet him at the house.

I thanked Maude and Claude for their hospitality, bid them farewell and struggled backed through the gap in the fence.

Tim and I greeted each other like old friends and he invited me into the house and upstairs into a huge living space with green sofas (I would soon become extremely familiar with these sofas).We chatted and he took me upstairs to put my stuff in his room that he shared with the afore mentioned Sarah.I introduced myself and explained I'd met a couple that knew her called 'Maude' and 'Claude' but she had absolutely no idea who they were.

Tim then took me out to see a bit of Banff and to get a sleeping mat.As we passed each street, animal names indeed appeared; Grizzly followed by Otter, followed by Wolverine.Of course the juvenile part of me instantly wondered who lived on Beaver Street but I kept the joke to myself.

Banff was really cool, a long high street that felt like an old Western town that could have quite easily had several 'saloon bars' with swing doors and somewhere to tie up your horse.I instantly liked it and as Tim proudly explained the array of shops along the parade to me I secretly tried to quell my growing fear that I might like it more than Whistler.It was only going to get worse.