Impressed by the northern lights the previous night, the very next evening I was hoping to catch another one, this time outside the city, while also finally reaching the end of the road along the western shore of Harrison Lake – all the way to Pemberton, and finally putting together a complete report on this remarkable route. It’s remarkable because you never know what you’ll see — fossils, a city that doesn’t exist, an abandoned church, several old Indigenous cemeteries. And of course, mountains, lakes, waterfalls, all of that. So let’s deflate the tires and hit the road!

If you had asked me last year where in the USA I would most like to visit, I would have answered that if we’re talking about a state, it would probably be Alaska, and if a city, it would undoubtedly be Detroit. Why Detroit and not, say, New York, Washington, San Francisco, or Los Angeles?

I've been writing about ships quite often lately—might as well get myself a boat. But unlike the last post, this time we'll talk not so much about ships as about the town of Powell River and one of its rather interesting landmarks. The town itself, with 13,000 residents (16,000 including surrounding areas), cannot be called a tourist destination.

Each desert, despite the common denominator (well, it's a desert!), is unique and inimitable. Each desert differs in climate, color and shape of sand, vegetation, configuration of dunes, presence (or absence) of mountains and rocks, and finally, simply atmosphere.