Las Vegas, Nevada — home to good times and great memories. Or is it…?

In This Las Vegas Article You Will Discover:

• What’s Not Fun About Las Vegas
• The People You’ll Meet in Sin City
• Pitfalls To Watch Out For
• And More!

Let me start by saying Las Vegas, Nevada, is home to wonderful restaurants, fun bars and lounges, amazing shows, great weather and I have personally had some really good times there. (A bachelor party in Las Vegas should be on any guy’s Bucket List.)

But that doesn’t excuse all manner of sins.

Since Las Vegas is not only a hub for entertainment, but for business, I find myself visiting Sin City at least once per year. Recently, I completed my 12^th visit to Vegas. So with that in mind, I’ve compiled 7 Reasons Why I Hate Las Vegas. (Lucky seven, I suppose…)

1. Sweat-Suit Grannies

Despite visions you may have of nouveau Rat Pack-types roaming casinos in tilted fedoras and tailored suits, the Sweat-Suit Granny is by far the most prevalent creature in Las Vegas. Suited head-to-toe in stretchy cotton and sporting an overstuffed fanny pack, this white-haired, diminutive casino dweller spends her day exchanging seats at the all-you-can-eat buffet and the nickel slots — all the while shooting scornful glances toward your disreputable behaviour. Talk about a buzz-kill.

2. Ding-Ding-Dingdingdingdingding….

Slot machines no longer cha-ching out coins like they used to — winners (scoff) receive vouchers for their monies, which they can re-insert or take to the cashier. However, the infernal one-armed bandits still make a phony, electronic “ding-ding-ding” when winnings are paid out. That is in tandem with the “beep-beep-beepity” on every turn, and the “doop-doop-doop-doopdoopdoopdoop” when credits are won. Now imagine these sounds — times a-million. It is an inescapable racket that haunts my dreams for weeks upon my return.

3. Cigarette Smoke

It is everywhere. You reek of it. Your clothes reek of it. Your hair reeks of it. The casinos are swimming in it. Even the outside air reeks of it. Camels, cigarillos, cigars, menthols… you name it, someone is smoking it. Your throat is dry and your lungs hoarse. Just… want… to… breathe…

4. Air Freshener

Perhaps even worse than the cigarette smoke is the overpowering, phony, carcinogenic air freshener most casinos pump into their ventilation systems to mask it and every other smell emanating from the populous. (The Venetian is by far the worse offender, I cannot breathe in that casino…) For someone like me, who values fresh air, these perfumes make it feel as if every breath is poison. Automobile exhaust is refreshing by comparison.

5. Fake Big Shots

The Las Vegas dream is sold on the idea that everyone who visits gets to act like a “Big Shot” — like a reality TV star or a hip-hop icon. Basically — like someone they are not. And believe me, Vegas can make this happen for you. You want VIP bottle service at the hottest club in town? You got it. Twenty-four-hour concierge? Yours. Chef’s table at a five-star restaurant? No problem. Just one tiny catch… you have to pay through the nose for all of it. For example — VIP bottle service at a popular nightclub will see you paying $400 or more for a $50 bottle of vodka. You feel like a Big Shot, sure — and your “underlings” laugh all the way to the bank. Then, when you’re out of money… you’re out of prestige. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out, chump.

6. Unnecessary Tipping

Don’t start with me! I’m not cheap — I happily tip for service. I always tip restaurant servers, my hairdresser, deliverymen, you name it — if I receive service, I tip. In Las Vegas, though, it’s taken too far. For example: did you know it is illegal for a taxi to stop for you if you flag it down? No, instead, you must have someone call you one, or use the taxi valet in front of most hotels — and for that, you gotta tip out. Every time. And don’t even try to give them a buck, cheapskate. For the legally-required service of blowing a whistle to a taxicab that sits in-wait mere metres from the hotel entrance, the expected tip is $3 to $10. …Sigh… And on it goes.

7. Card-Snappers

Anyone who has been to Las Vegas will know immediately what I’m talking about here. The “Card Snapper” — men and women on the street who try to force business cards for prostitutes into your hands every time you walk past. They snap them against their palms; the hundreds of them creating a cacophony like some perverted cricket orchestra. You find yourself constantly muttering “no, thanks…” over and over again as you make your way down the Strip. No matter how many times you pass them, and say no, they still stick these cards in your face. Snap-snap-snap! (PS: Despite what many people believe, prostitution is, in fact, illegal in Las Vegas.)

Whew. OK — now, about those awesome restaurants…

Three Meals In Las Vegas: A Diner’s Guide

Three Meals In Las Vegas: Part Two

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Special Photo Essay: A journey beneath the waves in Mexico’s beautiful Sea of Cortez

In This Photo Essay You Will Discover:

• The beauty of the Sea of Cortez
• Photos of fish
• Photos of underwater life
• And more!

Found between Mexico’s Baja Sur and the mainland, the Sea of Cortez is a gorgeous strip of deep-blue that divers travel from around the globe to experience. Full of life, calm and warm, there may be no-better tropical diving location on Earth. Even for the freediver such as myself, it’s a must-do.

A picture is worth one-thousand words. So here are 19 photos of the Sea of Cortez. A novella under the sea, if you will:

* All photos were taken with an Olympus Tough TG-610.

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Sure, it’s a touch cliche… but I love sunsets. Who doesn’t?

In This Photo Essay You Will Discover:

• Sunsets on the East Coast
• Sunsets on the West Coast
• Sunsets in the Southern Hemisphere
• Sunsets in the Far North
• And More!

A photographer friend once let me in on a photographic-world secret: most professionals have a special term for sunset images. They call them: AFS…

Another. Fucking. Sunset.

But you and I know better — everybody loves a sunset. They offer a moment of spectacular natural glory that illuminates any landscape in a magical light. And you can’t help but take a moment of quiet reflection on the day when the sky turns to blaze.

So, with that in mind — here’s my ode to sunsets.

Arctic Ocean, Nunavut

Edmonton, Alberta

Koh Chang, Thailand

Bella Bella, British Columbia

Boston, Massachusetts

Los Cabos, Mexico

Vancouver, British Columbia

Jimbaran, Bali

Campbell River, British Columbia

St. Albert, Alberta

Dease River Crossing, British Columbia

Neah Bay, Washington

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Take a walk through American Revolutionary War history with a cemetery tour of Boston!

In This Boston Photo Essay You Will Discover:

• The History of Boston
• Important Graves in the City
• And More!

Forget arts and architecture — cemeteries tell the story of the people who lived, worked and died in the city of Boston. And some of these people changed the path of history — Paul Revere, Samuel Adams, John Hancock… names you don’t have to be an American to recognize and appreciate. “The British are coming, the British are coming!”

That’s why when I went to Boston, I had to check out historical cemeteries like King’s Chapel, the Old Burying Ground in Harvard and the famous Old Granary Cemetery.

Here are Boston’s Cemeteries in photos:

Samuel Adams was an original signer of the American Declaration of Independence — and of course, a brewer of beer.

Fall adds a certain "spooky" touch to the cemeteries.

It makes you wonder who they were... what they did...

Paul Revere's tomb, Old Granary Cemetery.

Paul Revere is one of the most storied figures from the American Revolutionary War.

The skull symbolizes the mortality of the body, and the wings symbolize the immortality of the soul.

What can I say, I like old cemeteries....

Historical tours run regularly through the city's cemeteries.

The "Old Burying Ground," in Harvard, Cambridge, MA.

King's Chapel Cemetery was founded in 1630.

Graves in Boston date back to the 1600s - ancient by North American standards.

The Franklin Family Tomb, Old Granary Cemetery.

"Skull and Bones" and "Skull and Wings" are commonly seen on Revolutionary War-era gravestones.

Boston's famous cemeteries hold graves of everyone from Paul Revere to "Mother Goose."

The famous Old Granary Cemetery, downtown Boston.

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The Baja’s signature landmark offers sightseeing, snorkeling and swimming galore — just watch out for dive-bombing pelicans.

In This Mexico Travel Article You Will Discover

• How To Access Land’s End
• Snorkeling Opportunities
• Survival Guide for Lover’s & Divorce Beaches

Snorkelling gear is available at Land's End for around 50 Pesos per person, per day.

Pelican bomb! Above me, as I snorkel offshore from the aptly named Pelican Beach, a 15-kilogram pelican tucks its wings to its side and drops like an anvil out of the sky.

Sploosh! Arm’s length away, the bird hits the sea bill-first, scooping up hapless sardines in it’s mouth-trap. Tiger eels be damned, it’s pelicans you’ve got to watch out for.

Here at El Arco de Cabo San Lucas (or Land’s End) — the signature landmark of Mexico’s Baja California Sur — action abounds all-around.

My girlfriend, Erin, and I had hired a water taxi from Cabo San Lucas’ marina just a half-hour earlier (for $5 US per person) and slipped our driver and additional 50 Pesos apiece for snorkeling gear. Following an informative boat-tour of the stunning rock formations Land’s End is known for, we now find ourselves bobbing about like marker buoys, dodging boats and weaving through fellow snorkelers as we chase fish around Pelican Rock.

Get up-close and personal with marine life at Pelican Beach.

This area is known for the best scuba diving and snorkeling in the area — Pelican Rock itself is only a few dozen metres offshore; a simple swim (keep your eye out for rogue water taxis), but beyond the rock, the ocean floor drops to an astonishing depth of more than 1,000 metres. This creates a shelf full of sea life for the swimmer or diver to enjoy. Lukewarm water and easy ocean currents allow us to get prune hands without even noticing.

The "Magic Cave." Two go in, three come out (nine months later...).

It’s much different on the west side of Land’s End. Walking south from Pelican Beach, we wind around rock formations, past the “Magic Cave” (it’s magic because two people go in, and three come out… if you know what I mean), across Lover’s Beach — a calm, yellow-sand swimming beach with panoramas of the town of Cabo San Lucas — and towards the turbulent Divorce Beach.

El Arco - The Arch - Land's End, Cabo San Lucas. Do you see the "Dragon Drinking Water?"

Land’s End has the only beaches in the world that access both an ocean (Pacific) and a sea (Cortez). Although it may be tempting for the show-offs among us, no one should swim at Divorce Beach. The powerful Pacific Ocean creates a massive shore-dump, where 25 tons of wave will subdue any swimmer before vicious undertows and currents drag him out to sea.

Earlier this year, I’m told, a married couple dared the waters of Divorce Beach. Four months later, their bodies have yet to be found.

“Do not even get your feet wet,” we’re warned.

And why would you? Lover’s and Pelican Beaches have ample swimming in a much safer environment. Still, the raw ocean power at Divorce Beach is a must-see.

El Arco — the Arch — at Land’s End is as iconic as it is beautiful. Our water taxi captain told us it resembles a “dragon drinking water,” and now that’s all I see. Many rocks in the area are personified in this manner — from the Sea Horse, to the Skeleton, to Scooby Doo. The Mexican people have a sense of humour and whimsy the world at large could learn from.

Beer may be expensive at Land's End, but it's worth it.

Fifty pesos buys me a Pacifico from a local vendor. Sure, it’s pricey, but under the hot Baja sun, it becomes the best cerveza I’ve ever had. I drift off into a sunburned slumber.

Above, a Pelican circles…

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Sure, it’s home to the Twilight Saga, but the real beauty of Washington State’s Olympic Peninsula is the beaches, forests and for the motorcyclist — the road itself.

In This Article You Will Discover

• The Best Beaches on the Olympic Peninsula
• Where to Stop During Your Roadtrip
• What’s So Special About Forks…
• And More!

Neah Bay, WA... home to a perfect "twilight."

It’s a road of never-ending corners… Travellers are warned to slow to 45 m.p.h, then 35, then 25 — then 15, as two-lanes of chunky asphalt carve up thick coastal rainforest. Rocky beaches peek through gaps in the tree-line, precariously close to the right-hand shoulder. West of Port Angeles, after Highway 101 meets the lonely Highway 112, my ride around Washington State’s Olympic Peninsula had become exactly what I’d hoped it would be.

After 75 km of droning along the I-5 south from Vancouver earlier this morning, my Kawasaki KLR650 seems impossibly fast through this humpy, lumpy, curvy stretch of pavement. A couple on a mid-‘90s Goldwing pull over and let me blow past. Adventure bikes with long-travel suspension have the advantage on this, the Hana Highway of the Pacific Northwest.

My destination is Neah Bay, the Makah Indian Reservation townsite and home to Hobuck and Shi Shi beaches, among others. It’s an “end of the road” town; you leave the way you came. Forty miles to go. I never want this road to end.

Out-of-the-way Neah Bay is a perfect place to watch the sunset.

The corners eventually pull out straight; I slow to 50 km/h and enter the town of Neah Bay. It’s scruffy, sparse and utilitarian. Handmade signs dot the roadway, warning: “Meth Equals Death, “No Excuse For Drug Abuse” and more alliterative anti-addiction slogans. The beach is mostly seaweed and barnacles. Following the directional signs toward Hobuck Beach Resort & Campground, I begin to wonder what I’m doing here.

A four-mile jaunt out of the townsite answers my question — Hobuck Beach is picturesque West Coast sand. Waves roll in from the deep Pacific. Foliage is wind-shaped to resemble something out of a Dr. Seuss book. Kayakers frolic in the whitewash. The sun has begun its dramatic plunge into the sea. I know now why I came.

Checking into the campground, I hear two fellow journeymen mention Vancouver — my home — has just been hit with an earthquake in the mid-sixes. My first thought is of the Ikea cabinets and flat-screen TV I had just hung in my condo. My second doubts the sanity of camping on the northwest coast of the Olympic Peninsula, mere metres from the open ocean, at this time. You have tsunami alarms here in Neah Bay, right?

The quake is a non-issue; waves up to a metre in height lap the shoreline. A surfer wades out in search of that perfect break. The descending sun bathes the area in surreal purple that eases to gold, then to grey under the September harvest moon. It is a perfect twilight.

Famous Forks

They take their Twilight seriously here in Washington!

Twilight. Ten years ago, if you had told the residents of Forks, Washington — an industry ‘burg 70 km south of Neah Bay — their home would become internationally famous as the setting of a wildly popular teen-vampire book and film series, the local loggers would have run your crazy-ass out of town.

Today, the Forks’ fame is part of everyday life. Since author Stephanie Meyer penned her first vampire novel, set in Forks, in 2005, the town has never been the same. Everyone is cashing in on Twilight — from book-themed tours, souvenirs, annual Twilight events to one devilishly hilarious local selling $5 bundles of Twilight Firewood.

Rialto Beach, near La Push, is a popular storm-watching locale.

However, unless you’re a 15-year-old girl, the real reason to visit the area is the beaches in and around the Quileute Nation Indian Reservation and the adjacent oceanside village of La Push.

After making the 45-minute run south from Neah Bay, I point my KLR650 westward from Forks and blast down an empty two-lane en route to the sea. Bathed in unseasonably warm September weather, I can always feel as I near the ocean. The temperature drops sharply, maybe five degrees. The cool air cuts through my jacket’s mesh — heaven. Salt scent fills my helmet. Through the trees, I can see whitecapped waves crashing on beige beachsand. Haystack rock formations flank the beaches, some with arches and spires to rival those found in Mexico’s Baja.

Gorgeous Second Beach, located between Forks and La Push, allows for camping right on the sand (with a permit).

First Beach is located right in the town of La Push. Tucked into a bay, with a breakwater on one side, the surf here is small, suited for boogey-borders and beginners. The sand is clean, though, and accommodation can be found practically at the water’s edge, at the Quileute Nation Resort.

When visiting, always keep in mind that you are on Indian Land. Take time to learn and respect local traditions, culture and etiquette. And don’t even think about doing any beachcombing!

Second Beach, a 15-minute hike from the roadway, tops First. A dramatic stone arch marks the northern edge, and soft sand stretches south past 30-metre-tall rock formations before fading into late-summer fog. The state allows beach camping here, with the correct permit, so a few tents dot the shoreline. Third Beach, a short ways away, is much the same. So many choices, and for me, so little time… I wade into the frigid seawater and let the waves wash over my bare feet. That’s enough, for now.

West Side Ride

Since heading south on Highway 101, the roadway has been encased in cedar, spruce and fir trees — often a dozen miles inland from the ocean vistas I had hoped for. South of Forks, though, the 101 begins to deliver serious scenery as it takes a seaside route through the Olympic National Forest. As these two-lanes pass stretches of sand, weather-stunted trees thin out enough to allow endless ocean views. The road straightens as it rolls by viewpoints — a courtesy to those who fancy a gander. Beaches — more than you could visit in a week — are marked, many with campsites and more that allow tents right on the sand. For surfers, kayakers, campers and hikers — it’s Eden.

To my left, the Olympic Mountain Range stabs into the sky. It is a wilderness preserve in the truest sense — roads lead to the outskirts, but should you wander into the wild, you’re on your own. Somewhere within, Sol Duc Hot Springs lures weary hikers to ease their muscles in mineral water. I can’t stop riding now. Eyes forward. Roll on.

East Side Townships

Highway 101 continues its straight-shot south, gathering steam as it tumbles past the beaches of Oregon and California; but I veer east, taking Highway 12 lazily past the necessary fuel-and-coffee towns of Aberdeen and Hoquiam, before heading north to McCleary and re-joining the 101 as it rims the east side of the Olympic Peninsula. The east side of the peninsula is much like the east side of Vancouver Island — more towns and smaller waves than its west coast counterpart. Less rugged, sure, but no less scenic. In fact, it is on the east side where the road skims the ocean for many more miles at a time, separating the rider from the saltchuck with only a metal guardrail and a couple metres of rock.

First Beach, in the Town of La Push, is located west of Forks, WA.

Towns such as Hoodsport and Quilcene pop into view, but the ride is too much fun to quit. Traffic becomes a problem for motorists, but not motorcycles. A kick-down and a roll-on easily dispenses of two- or three slowpokes. Heck, Washington State law compels drivers guilty of delaying five or more vehicles to pull over and let us pass. Canada’s road laws could learn something from this…

It isn’t long before every lollygagging campervan, sport-ute and California-plated convertible is a memory. The road is smoother on the east side; sport bike riders will have the advantage here.

As I near Port Townsend, home a Washington State Ferry Port (only $5.10 for a bike and rider, each way) and the logical start/finish point for riders coming south from Vancouver, traffic bogs down again. But it’s OK. I’m tired. I kick it into third. Port Townsend appears: first as homes, then as gas stations, then as a lovely, artsy and historic seaside community. It’s alive with street buskers, busy pubs, cafes, sightseers and motorcyclists.

Historic Port Townsend is the most interesting and bustling town on the peninsula.

A burrito the size of my head awaits at El Sarape, a Mexican restaurant on the north end of the seaside strip through town. I ponder a cerveza to accompany, but decide on a late-night ride back to Vancouver instead.

The day turns, once again, to twilight, as the ferry’s horn signals my departure. I may have stayed a week — if my KLR could carry a surfboard.

See a video of this trip here: Olympic Peninsula Motorcycle Ride

If You Go

• The Makah Tribe requires you to purchase a recreation pass for $10 if you visit Neah Bay.
• Pack rain gear, and a warm sleeping bag (if camping). Even in summer, west coast nights get cold and damp.
• Gas, food and accommodation is easily found in most towns throughout the Peninsula.
• For more information, visit www.olympicpeninsula.org.

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Across and Abroad.com is finally joining in with the rest of the travel-blogosphere with a special list of 7 posts!

In This Travel Article You Will Discover:

• My Most Beautiful Post
• My Most Popular Post
• My Most Controversial Post
• And more!

It’s been almost two months since I was nominated by Dreamalittledream.ca to join in the fun and try to generate more exposure for seven links on my blog. So, finally, and due to having nothing else to write about today (too excited about my trip to the Mexican Baja in two weeks…!), I’m obliging. So — and since you’re not reading this intro anyway — here we go:

My Most Beautiful Post

Most bloggers decided their nomination for this category based on photography alone — I’m going for a more broad, metaphysical definition. This post encapsulates the beauty of travel and life in general:

Moments That Define Us: 8 Travel Experiences I Will Never Forget

My Most Popular Post

There’s no question here — and proof that the key to a popular post is uniqueness. No more can be said, it gets more traffic than my homepage:

Italy’s Dangerous History: From Gladiators’ Swords Onward

My Most Controversial Post

Nothing can drum up controversy like a little gun-talk. Especially when it’s “pro.”

Gunshots In The Desert: Having a Blast in Sin City

My Most Helpful Post

Considering this post has been linked by top-tier sites like Canadian Living, it must be my most helpful:

Your Ultimate Guide to Hidden Airline Fees

A Post With Success That Has Surprised Me

Who knew so many people were interested in Lac St. Anne? Proof again, popularity rests on being “one of the few”:

Your Guide To Lac St. Anne, Alberta: Central Alberta’s Diamond in the Rough

A Post That Didn’t Get The Attention It Deserved

I really like the way this one turned out, and it met the whole “unique” criteria I have been touting — but the only true praise I received (that I knew about) was from my girlfriend. Well, OK, I published an longer version in a print magazine too, but this is about my blog…

Stunning Works of Art On Display At Inuvik’s 2010 Great Northern Arts Festival

The Post I Am Most Proud Of

I’m proud of this one because it’s not only a great read, but it was an absolutely epic trip — and one of my proudest accomplishments, full stop:

Extreme ADV Touring: Canada’s Demspter Highway

At this point, I believe I’m supposed to nominate five other bloggers to participate, but I’m afraid I am so incredibly late to the party, most of them have already been nominated. So, I’ll just toss five out there that I enjoyed:

1. Dream a Little Dream – check out their list HERE

2. Tripbase – check out their list HERE

3. The Planet D – check out their list HERE

4. Travelling Canucks – check out their list HERE

5. iBackpaackcanada – check out their list HERE

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Dawson City, Yukon, may just be Canada’s most unique town

In This Dawson City Article you Will Discover:

• Why you Should Visit Dawson
• What The Sourtoe Cocktail Is
• And More!

Dusty and dirty, much about Dawson City is unchanged since the Gold Rush spawned this northern hamlet. There are still clay roads, which turn alternately to choking dust storms in the dry weather and greasy grey mud when it rains; along with colourful Klondike-era hotels, saloons, restaurants, a gambling hall and other touches that border on Kitsch (but stay honest) and hearken back to 1898 when the town was incorporated. Today, it’s not a gold miner you see on the streets, but a European RV’er, American motorcyclist or a wandering Canadian who has decided against Mexico or Maui this year, favouring a no-doubt more costly and much colder vacation into our own expansive north.

My face now five-days unshaven and hair greasy and messy as I left Whitehorse without a shower this morning, I stand on the boardwalk looking more like a prospector than half the people in the area. It seems a fitting way to explore this old Gold Rush ‘burg and Canada’s most unique town — Dawson City.

21^st Century Gold Rush

Dawson City's Downtown Hotel.

Sitting alongside the Klondike River, in a carved-out section of boreal forest and nestled at the base of a foothill characterized by a massive landslide scar, Dawson immediately reveals its isolated nature. It’s busy enough in the summer, but the expansive wilderness that surrounds the area shows you with certainty there’s no one else around. It is an outpost town, not a city by any stretch of the imagination — no wonder locals dub it simply “Dawson.”

It is far more rustic than I had imagined, and I’m glad to see it. I had pictured a modernized Dawson; spoiled by the 21^st century. It’s not the case — there is no Blockbuster Video, no Tim Horton’s, no Safeway. There are 100-year-old wooden buildings; painted brightly and re-painted every few years. There are unpaved roads throughout (with the exception of the Klondike Highway as it enters town); the same surfaces that carried horses, buggies and the bodies of the gold-sick prospectors that died for ore 113 years ago. There is the midnight sun in summer. And there is the sense that this is still very much the Frontier.

In the northeast corner of town, the Downtown Hotel looms as Dawson’s largest building and perhaps the most quintessentially Klondike structure in the area. It is bright red, accented with snow-white trim along a balcony on which I can practically see the ghosts of Saloon Girls siren-waving to lonely prospectors as they returned, so many years ago. The hotel’s tavern features Old West style double-doors as the entrance. I must later push those open and stand at the entrance with impunity. I’d love it if a piano player stopped short in my presence and everybody spun around on their barstools. (Insert The Good, The Bad & The Ugly theme song here.)

Dawson City, Yukon, Canada - in the eternal summer sun.

Klondike Kate’s, Gold Rush Campground, Jack London Grill, Sourdough Joe’s… Dawson’s survival depends on milking the Gold Rush and Klondike mystique for everything it’s worth. People have come from around the globe; the tourism marketing campaign appears to work. I listen to the German flowing through the air as I wander the clay streets and wonder why northern Europeans find such fascination with our Klondike. What do they learn in school, or in their culture that intrigues them so? Few Canadians are intrigued by the Klondike in such a manner. The proof is the fact that for every 20 Germans I see, there is perhaps one Canuck tourist. Even Americans outnumber us up here, it seems. Most of the Canadians, I would discover via eavesdropping, are either Whitehorse locals up to work for the summer — the equivalent of heading to Whistler or Lake Louise to do a season on the ski hill — or are eco-nuts, seeking out the remote pleasures of a nature tour over hedonistic pleasures of conventional vacations hotspots.

I look out over the Klondike River and see a raft, 30 feet or so offshore, bound in place by a decaying anchor rope and holding a tent and the scattered belongings of a homeless man. He is the quintessential drifter — spending the summer floating about on the river at about 65 degrees North. It makes Vancouver’s homeless seem spoiled by comparison. Or perhaps it’s the other way around?

Making good on the promise I whispered inside my head, I head to the Downtown Hotel, strut up the stairs and shove open the swinging double-doors that lead into the tavern. I stand at the entrance and, as I hoped I would, attract the attention of everyone seated inside. Although since only four people and one bartender occupy the saloon, it’s not hard. There is a piano, but it is already silent. I’m — disappointed.

This tavern is internationally famous for one disgusting, disturbing and almost unbelievable item on the menu: the Sourtoe Cocktail. “You can drink it fast or you can drink it slow, but the lips have got to touch the toe.”

The Sourtoe Cocktail is a drink — a drink of your choice — that has an actual human toe placed in it. No, the bartender doesn’t take a footbath in your drink, these are dehydrated, preserved toes presumably taken from unlucky prospectors or others who have frozen their feet in the harsh Yukon cold. The toe is placed in your drink, and then, to be a member of one of the most exclusive clubs in the world simply due to geography and unpleasantness, you must finish your drink and… your lips must touch the toe.

Yes, this is for real. The ritual is done most nights, between 7:00 p.m. and 9:00 p.m. I’m a tad early, which explains the lack of customers. Prospective Sourtoe Joes are no doubt getting suitably drunk elsewhere before taking on what must be a barely legal and hardly Foodsafe-approved ritual. After all, what could the territorial regulations be regarding the consumption of human flesh? Even the bar owners themselves merely suggest that consuming a toe is, “not recommended.” Kind of the way swimming in the frigid Klondike River is “not recommended.” People, it is suggested, must still actually do it.

Dawson is a living museum, and I find myself wandering aimlessly, collecting mud in my flip-flops and snapping photos ad naseum. Two of the most famous locales are Diamond Tooth Gertie’s gambling hall — featuring a real Saloon Girl Dancing Show, twice nightly — and the Palace Grand Theatre, once responsible for Dawson City earning the nickname “Paris of the North,” as it is modeled after a Bohemian-style Parisian theatre. (There are rarely shows at the Grand anymore, and tonight, there is a private wedding.) Further, Robert Service, Pierre Berton and Jack London all have historical homes in Dawson, but I am endlessly surprised at what a tiny, sleepy town it is. I could practically drive a golf ball clear over the length of the entire townsite and into the woods behind. At the turn of the last century, Dawson’s population topped 40,000. Today, it’s less than 2,000. In summer. (Not counting the 60,000 annual visitors.)

The SS Keno, a decommissioned paddlewheeler alongside the Klondike River.

I sit near the S.S. Keno, a landlocked paddle wheeler-turned-museum and lick an ice cream cone from Klondyke Cream & Candy. I notice the “y” in the spelling. It turns out, the now-famous moniker “Klondike” had a whole slew of predecessors before it came to describe this western Arctic region: Trondike being my favourite. It was the New York Times that standardized the word “Klondike” for the world to know and use. I wonder how often the New York Times prints stories on Dawson City today? Not bloody often, I’d say. It truly speaks to the hold the Gold Rush had on North America, and how that mystique is so lost today. If you were to poll most Americans on the origin of the word “Klondike,” most would no doubt discuss the ice cream treat that shares the name.

Behind me, I hear a man and a young girl — I hope he’s her father — talking with a tourist. The girl, perhaps 15 years old, is the last person to have been born in Dawson City. The hospital is now closed, and births are carried out in Whitehorse. Again, I am struck with just how rustic this town is, considering its international fame. It is Canada’s Timbuktu — famous but for history.

Gold Rush Campground

To get a taste of homesteading without the commitment, stay at the Gold Rush Campground. Located right in downtown Dawson, unserviced tent/camper sites and fully serviced RV slots are available. Reservations are highly recommended. www.goldrushcampground.com

Heading to la Belle Province? If you plan on making a stop in Montreal, Quebec, here are 3 great tips to make your stay the best it can be

In This Montreal Article You Will Discover:

• French Language Survival Guide
• The Best Way to See the City
• How to Put A Smile on Locals’ Faces

Quebec is simply lovely. A visit can illustrate to even the most die-hard Anglophones how Canada as a whole benefits from this wonderful diversity right in its backyard. To be an officially bilingual country should be a matter of pride for Canucks — and I will go as far as to say a visit to Quebec is as important to Canadians as a visit to Washington, D.C. is to our friends to the south.

It’s a matter of patriotic homage. Je me souviens.

Montreal is the first stop for most Quebec tourists. It’s not only a major international hub, but it’s also a soft introduction to French Canada. However, for Anglophones, a visit to Montreal is still a different beast than, say, Vancouver or Toronto. Here are three tips to make your stay a productive one:

1. Learn the Basics

It's in your best interest to learn a few basic words and phrases...

Much of the city is bilingual (except the eastern portion) and some parts are even predominantly English. However, you’ll find life a lot easier if you make yourself familiar with a few basic phrases and words, such as:

Merci: This means “thank you.” I’m sure you can figure out when to use it.

Si’l Vous Plait: This means “please.” As above…

Comment ca va: This means “How Are You?” It’s more likely you’ll be asked this, than need to ask it yourself. Keep it simple — answer with “bien” (well).

Bon/Bien: I’ll keep it super simple here — “bon” is an adjective or adverb for good or nice, perhaps used to describe your dinner. “Bien” means well, perhaps used to describe your mood.

Bon Jour: Most people are familiar with this one, but many don’t realize it literally means “good day,” therefore it is used as a greeting and as a casual goodbye.

Ou est la…: This means “where is the…” It’s very helpful, if a little blunt. Make sure to follow the answer with “merci.”

This is by no means an exhaustive list, but enough to point you in right direction to learn some more on your own. Pop quiz: when the barista asks you “Pour ici?” after you order le café, what will you answer with? Better find out…

A cafe serving Montreal's signature dish, poutine, in Old Montreal.

2. Effort Counts

If you’re at all intimidated by the above paragraph, don’t be. You can enjoy Montreal without speaking a word of French — but if you want to enhance your experience, well, effort counts.

Believe me, locals will pick you out as a tourist from a kilometre away, so blending in is a fool’s errand. It’s all about trying. As they do in every culture, Montrealers will appreciate the effort you put into assimilation.

Greeting a shopkeeper with “bon jour,” even if it sounds like “bun jower,” will put a smile on their face faster than “howdy.” The conversation may slip into English from then on — though perhaps not — but your attempt will be respected.

This is usually true for any country and any language.

3. Pedal Power

For-hire bicycles are the best way to get around Montreal (in summer, of course).

So, you’re OK with the language? Good — my final tip is on transportation. Yes, taxis are everywhere, and the Metro system is very good, but there is really only one way to see Montreal (in the warm months): via velos (bicycle)!  In popular sections of Montreal, visitors will notice banks of bikes — called Bixis — available for on-thespot, automated rental. Simply slip in your credit card, take an available bicycle and ride! When you’re done, return the Bixi to any rental station you see. A simple $5 fee allots riders a 24-hour rental period, with some nominal additional fees for multi-hour rides. (A full day’s worth of bicycle sightseeing could cost less than a single taxi fare.) Cycle tour Vieux Montreal, Plateau Mont Royal, Mount Royal Park and more — then you won’t feel so guilty when you dig into the poutine at day’s end.

Bon voyage!

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Special Video Post: Ride along on a lap around the beautiful Olympic Peninsula in Washington State — home to beaches, rainforest and the Twilight phenomenon.

In This Video You Will Discover:

• Washington’s Wonderful Beaches
• Twilight Tourism in Forks
• Awesome Motorcycle Roads
• And More!

Twilight. Vampires. Robert Pattinson. Taylor Lautner. Bella. Edward. Jacob. Forks, Washington. There, that ought to help my SEO. And the best thing is, it’s all relevant.

Washington’s Olympic Peninsula dwelled in obscurity for a long time before Twilight popped up and made the scruffy town of Forks internationally famous. But there’s always been great reasons to visit the area: wonderful beaches, scenic mountain vistas, surfing, kayaking, hikes for every skill level and pretty much every other outdoor activity you an think of. Top it off with a fun, artsy town like Port Townsend as your jumping off point and you’ve got a cool destination, good for a day or a week.

No matter where I am, I like to travel on my Kawasaki KLR650 — so ride along with me as I lap Twilight Country… Washington’s Olympic Peninsula.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FS4Prbb5APQ

Read More About This Trip Here: Olympic Peninsula Road Trip

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