Where The Sun Rises In The South

Canada's second largest city, Montréal started life as Ville Marie in the mid-17th century, a French missionary colony that soon became a fur trade center. In 1760, during the Seven Years' War between Britain and France, driven by commercial and imperial rivalry, Montréal fell to the British. Waves of Anglo immigrants started to come and around 1831, residents of British origin became the majority in the city. In those days, Montréal was split geographically along cultural lines: English speakers tended to live "west" of Boulevard St-Laurent while French speakers occupied mostly the "east". I put east and west in brackets because that is how those areas are traditionally known but the descriptions are not quite accurate. Using this traditional logic, the St. Lawrence river would be located in the "south" but it actually sits in the east. So whenever you see the sun rise over the river in Montréal, rejoice because it will likely be the only time you will ever see the sun rise in the "south".

Montréal grew rapidly in the second half of the 19th century and by 1860, it was the largest city in British North America. economic boom attracted many French Canadians from surrounding rural areas so much so that, by 1865, the French again made up the majority of Montréal’s population. The heavy French and British influence over the centuries led to the city's current character where 56% of its population speak both languages. The co-existence of the two cultures has not always been smooth, though: British dominance in business and finance left Francophones feeling alienated, and separatists gained strength in the 1960s and 1970s. Two referendums on French Canada sovereignty have taken place to date in the Québec province, where Montréal sits: the first in 1980 was rejected by 60% of the electorate while the second in 1995 had a much narrower margin, rejected by 51% of voters.

French and English were not the only influences - immigration from other countries such as Italy, Haiti, China created several communities in the city, with many cultures celebrated in parades and festivals. And speaking of festivals, Montréal, once known as the city of 100 steeples, could nowadays be called the city of 100 festivals. The highlight is the Festival International de Jazz de Montréal, the largest jazz festival in the world that takes place every year in late June/early July for ten days. The festival's current incarnation attracts over 2 million visitors and features some 3,000 artists from 30 countries performing in 15 concert halls and 8 outdoor stages, the latter free. Compare that to the roughly four artists and 12,000 spectators in the first festival in 1980. Jazz is not my favorite music genre but the great thing about this festival is that it includes other genres such as rock, reggae and blues so there will always be an act you like regardless of your musical taste. And with so many free concerts, you will discover some great artist you had never heard of. In this year's festival, I saw a great British musician called Jamie Cullum who played a very energetic show mixing jazz, pop, rock, soul and rap. I know, it sounds like too much of a mish-mash but trust me…if he ever comes to your town, don't miss him.

Getting High

2016 marks the centennial of the US National Park Service (NPS). It may sound like a long time but national parks already existed: Yellowstone, the very first, was established in 1872, and by the time of the NPS creation in August 1916, about a dozen areas had been listed. To mark the occasion, I decided to visit a number of them in California that had been on my list for a while: Yosemite (established in 1890), Kings Canyon (1940) and Sequoia (1890).

Yosemite, the third oldest national park, covers 1,169 square miles (3,028 km²) and receives four million visitors annually, most of them in summer. Its most popular area is Yosemite Valley, not only due to year round accessibility but also because it is where many of the park’s highlights are found:
• Yosemite Falls – known as the highest fall in the US at 2,425 ft (739 m), though some argue that there are actually three distinct tiers: Upper Yosemite Falls, Middle Cascade and Lower Yosemite Falls. Regardless of whether you view them as one or three, they are impressive and it is an unforgettable sight when the waters of Upper Falls seemingly dance to the wind. To see them in all their glory, visit in spring when the falls are full; in the popular midsummer season, they become a trickle.
• El Capitan – rising almost 3,600 ft (1,100 m) from the valley floor, El Capitan was once considered impossible to climb due to its sheer vertical face. The feat was only achieved in 1958 (five years after the first Everest summit), and nowadays the granite monolith is one of the favorite challenges for rock climbers.
• Half Dome – arguably the most grueling hike in Yosemite, Half Dome stands at 8,836 ft (2,693 m) and in 1865, its summit was declared “perfectly inaccessible, being probably the only one of the prominent points about the Yosemite which never has been, and never will be, trodden by human foot”. A mere ten years later, the summit was reached by a blacksmith named George Anderson who drilled holes in the granite (!) and installed ropes. These were later replaced by the steel cables in use today on the trail’s last 400 ft (122 m). If you are in enough good shape to climb 4,800 ft (1,463 m) from the valley floor to the peak, you will earn sore muscles and the right to wear a “I Made It To The Top” T-shirt.

If you can do without the pain and the self-aggrandizing T-shirt, there are a number of enjoyable trails around the valley, some like a stroll and even wheelchair accessible, others more challenging, especially taking into account that Yosemite Valley sits at an altitude of 3,955 ft (1,205 m), with 13% less available oxygen. It doesn’t sound much but you will feel the difference if climbing only 1,000 ft (305 m). The scenery, though, will make your gasps for air worth it.

Not far from Yosemite is Kings Canyon, one of North America’s deepest canyons where the highlight is a 35-mile (56 km) drive along Highway 180 to the aptly named Roads End. The most impressive section of the road is roughly 6,000 ft (1,830 m) above sea level, twisting along soaring granite cliffs on one side and precipitous drops to the bottom of the canyon on the other. Great road to force you to stop multi-tasking.

But the big surprise came in Sequoia National Park, home to giant sequoia trees, some of the world’s largest and oldest living beings. They occur naturally only on the slopes of the Sierra Nevada in California, at altitudes between 5,000 and 7,000 ft (1,500 – 2,100 m), growing to an average height of 165 to 280 ft (50-85 m) with a 20 to 26 ft (6-8 m) diameter. Surprisingly for trees of this size, their roots are very shallow – no more than 12 to 14 feet (~ 4 m) deep, spreading over half an acre or more.

Yes, your neck will hurt when you look up at them for a while. But for such gigantic and robust trees, they feel very soft when touched, their bark almost feathery. Though seemingly delicate, this bark is key to their longevity: chemicals in it make them resistant to insect damage, disease and fire, therefore giant sequoias live thousands of years (the famous General Sherman sequoia, the world’s largest tree by volume, is estimated to be 2,200 years old) and die mostly by toppling. Their discovery in the mid-19th century spawned countless timber mills in the Sierra Nevada, but thanks to the establishment of national and state parks/monuments in the region, sequoia logging is now illegal. Some would say that they have become useless, but I’ll go with this lyric by Pulp: “Yeah, the trees, those useless trees produce the air that I am breathing”.

Three Is A Magic Number?

In 1987, I went to Santiago in Chile for an audit training. I had barely arrived at the hotel when I felt the floor shake. It lasted less than 5 seconds and I wondered what kind of powerful machine could do that. Well, it turned out that the "powerful machine" was a 5.7 earthquake with an epicenter some 60 miles (97 km) south of the capital. It was odd, not scary. Something else was scary, though: at the time, the infamous Pinochet military dictatorship, in power since the 1973 coup that ousted Salvador Allende, still ruled Chile and soldiers armed with rifles peppered many streets in Santiago. Pinochet's regime dissolved Congress, suppressed political parties, prohibited virtually all political activity, and persecuted dissidents, with around 3,000 people gone "missing", 35,000 tortured and 200,000 exiled during the regime's 17-year rule.

I returned in 1989, again for work, and monumental changes had taken place. A plebiscite the year before to vote on a new eight-year presidential term for Pinochet rejected the extension, and presidential elections were scheduled for December 1989. This time, no armed soldiers in the streets, no earthquake (at least none that I could feel). But, as fate would have it, I got some sort of stomach bug and spent a good part of a weekend sick in bed.

This year, I was hoping that Chile would offer something more welcoming than earthquakes, armed soldiers or stomach bugs. We headed to Torres Del Paine national park in the Chilean Patagonia and here is what Frommer's had to say about it: "This is not the easiest of national parks to visit. The climate in the park can be abominable, with wind speeds that can peak at 100 mph (161 km/h), and rain and snow even in the middle of summer." What was I thinking? And getting to the park is not easy either: it takes a 4-hour flight from Santiago plus a 4- to 5-hour drive on the aptly named Road of the End of the World (Ruta del Fin del Mundo).

The park is best explored on foot and the most popular hiking route is the W circuit, an almost 50-mile (80 km) trek, usually done in 4 or 5 days. Due to time constraints and doubts about current fitness levels, we did a U trek, alternating days of extensive hiking (over 11 miles or 18 km) with days of short hikes (less than 3 miles or 5 km). The start was promising: we set out on an 8-hour trek to the Torres lookout in a warm sunny morning that brought to mind an Icelandic saying - "The sun shines on those whom the gods love". I was elated. But mountains create their own weather: about one hour into the hike, it started to rain and didn't stop for the next 6 hours. Nice thing when you are trying to climb 2,465 ft (750m) so I guess we're not high on the gods' list. And I am not going to mince words: the last half mile (~ 800m) of that trail is misery! It will take one hour to cover the distance because you have to scramble over boulders. At some point, you look up at the endless boulders ahead and ask yourself: "Is this worth it? Will my misery pay off?" I'd say, definitely! You will be greeted by the park's symbol, the Torres del Paine, three gigantic granite monoliths that overlook an emerald pool and soar 9,350 ft (2,850m) above sea level. And while the Torres are the park's greatest hit, they are just a glimpse of the wonders on display: looming peaks, glaciers, azure lakes, roaring rivers, emerald forests, herds of guanacos, frequent rainbows. Most things in Torres del Paine are on a massive scale, and they make you feel very small, not a bad thing in our self-centered age.

The weather was tricky during our stay, cloudy on most days with only occasional rays of sun. And on our last day in the park, when we were on one of the easy trails along a beach, the wind arrived. Not the abominable 100 mph but a "mild" 25 mph (40 km/h) that made hiking hard. And that's when I realized we had been very lucky. We wouldn't have been able to hike our U circuit had the wind been just "mild"...it'd have blown me right off the boulders on the first day. Despite clouds and snow, this third time in Chile more than made up for the other two. So much so that I will likely come back.

Snowbirds Head To Volcanoes

Some places have almost perfect weather, rarely too hot or too cold. The Canary Islands, also known as "Islands of Eternal Spring", are one of them: located 62 miles (100 km) off the coast of southern Morocco, their temperatures average 76°F (24°C) in summer and 64°F (18°C) in winter. The islands also receive over 3,000 hours of sunlight annually, making it the sunniest part of Europe. The warm and sunny weather as well as miles and miles of beaches draw over 12 million visitors every year, most of them European snowbirds fleeing the cold, harsh winters.

Contrary to what many may think, the Canary Islands were not named after the bird...it was the other way round. There isn't consensus about the origin of the name, with some saying that it comes from the Latin Canariae Insulae, or "Islands of the Dogs", so named in Roman times due to the "vast multitudes of dogs of very large size". An alternate theory claims that the "dogs" were actually seals (canis marinus) while others speculate that the original inhabitants of the islands treated dogs as holy animals, worshipping and mummifying them. Yet another hypothesis holds that the people of Canaria were actually Berbers of the Canarii tribe from Morocco. From all this, we can conclude that no one knows for sure, and that the islands went to the dogs one way or another, so much so that their coat of arms features two dogs.

There is more consensus regarding the origin of the islands: while a few say that they are part of the lost continent of Atlantis (!), everyone else agrees that they were formed by volcanoes. And nowhere else in the archipelago is the volcanic origin more evident than in Lanzarote, sometimes called the "Hawaii of Europe". The last major eruptions on the island took place in the 1730s and lasted 6 years, with mostly a'a lava (to find out how the lava got this name, just walk barefoot on it) flowing over an area of 77 sq. miles (200 km²), creating hundreds of volcanic cones and an out of this world landscape. These volcanic features can be seen at the Parque Nacional de Timanfaya where, unfortunately, you cannot wander at will; you must take a designated bus and cannot get off until the ride is over. Sit on the right side of the bus for the best views. Though the volcano is now considered dormant, its power can still be felt: there is a magma chamber just 2.5 miles (4 km) below the surface, bringing temperatures to over 200°F (100°C) just a few inches underground. So much heat is good for the park's restaurant...all meats are barbecued using the volcano heat.

The most famous volcano in the whole archipelago sits in Tenerife, though - El Teide. It dominates the island and, at 12,198 feet (3,718 meters), is the highest mountain in Spain and the third tallest volcano in the world. It is possible to climb to the top, a 5 to 6 hour trek starting at roughly 7,200 feet (2,200 m). If you are really adventurous, you can try the Ultra Tenerife Bluetrail, a 60-mile (97 km) race that starts at sea level in the south of the island, climbs El Teide up to 11,670 feet (3,555 m), and ends back at sea level in the north. If you complete the Ultra, you not only prove that you are in extraordinary shape but also that you are a certified masochist. But if bursting your heart and lungs at high altitudes is not your thing, fret not...there is an alternative: take the cable car that whisks you to the top in less than 10 minutes! Guess which one I chose.