My first clue that we are in for an adventure came when I was surfing Hawaii on Google Earth, and clicked on the Geographic Features/Earthquakes option. All of a sudden, the beautiful luscious green island of Hawaii turned red with earthquake markers!

My next clue that we are in for an adventure came when Kelly quoted a lovely statistic from Lonely Planet’s Hawaii book:

Quakes come with the territory: There are more than 1200 earthquakes of measurable magnitude on this island every week.

Yikes!

Of course, living on a bunch of active volcanoes will do it, but when it’s put in numbers like that, it brings on a whole new element of “adventure” to the game!

Ah well – at least we’ll get to eat chocolate covered macadamia nuts right from the source!

PS – Moms, please don’t worry. At least any more than you normally would!

To sweeten the pot even more, I got a mention on the MSN Money blog for an article I wrote about Hobo Living Made Easy on Wise Bread!

Click Here for the MSN Money article, and Here for the Wise Bread article.

Having spent the summer in Edmonton now, I have discovered yet more differences between Edmonton & Toronto, Alberta & Ontario, West & East. Here are a few more idiosyncrasies I’ve detected:

PEOPLE EAT DINNER REALLY EARLY.

In Toronto (and other parts of central and eastern Canada from those I’ve spoken to), dinner is usually an evening affair. Reservations at restaurants are often made for at least 8pm, sometimes later. Even dinners at home are eaten well after 6pm at the earliest in most homes I’ve visited.

In Alberta, people eat dinner at 5 or 6pm. Many restaurants close their kitchens at 9:30 or 10pm, and the dinner rush is long finished by 8pm.

I suspect that part of the reason for this is the difference in commuting and work ethics. In Alberta many people with 9-5 jobs are actually home shortly after 5pm. Not so in Ontario (especially Toronto), where the office can hold people hostage late, or the commute can mean walking in the door at 7pm.

THE MOSQUITOES ARE HUGE.

Yep. Huge. And in the city too. Toronto proper seems to be in a bubble, as I am unfamiliar with the concept of mosquitoes within the city limits. What? I need bug spray to be in the backyard? Huh?

ALBERTA IS CANADA‘S ONLY RAT-FREE PROVINCE.

This is true. Of course, there are thousands of miles of rat fences surrounding the province, along with cats armed with poking sticks strategically placed along the border. Alberta‘s perimeter is truly the world’s longest undefended border – against rats!

THE STREETS AND AVENUES ARE NUMBERED.

It’s relatively easy to find your way around the city, as the Streets run north-south, and the Avenues run east-west. And everything is numbered! So without having the foggiest idea of where something is, a simple address will help you place it in your mind (and find it in your car).

LOTS OF PEOPLE RIDE BICYCLES.

There is an excellent bike path system which leads industrious riders around and through the city quite effectively. This isn’t necessarily very different from Toronto as I haven’t investigated the inner nuances of bike paths comparatively. However I have certainly noticed that there are many a bike-rider in the city of Edmonton, and it’s refreshing. I guess it makes up for at least some of the over-powered-and-overtly-used pick up trucks everywhere!

IT’S BLOODY COLD HERE.

Many many times this summer, I awoke to a bright sunny day with a high of 15 degrees. During summer. Hot sunny endless summer. Many more days weren’t even sunny. In Toronto on the same day, it was at least double the temperature. For a heat-seeker like myself, this has been tough to adapt to.

(Amazingly, I have met people here who actually prefer the winter. I guess at least it’s cold and snowy, and you know it and can plan for it. Personally, I’ll be happy to miss it in favour of re-living summer in Hawaii).

WILD HORSES ROAM.

When you see a horse whilst on a country drive, don’t automatically suspect that the horse has an owner and a stall. It could well be wild. It is a concept I didn’t always understand. How can horses be wild? I guess we have lived so long with horses as work animals that I forgot that they are animals first. I’m glad that horses still run free. I have warm fuzzies thinking about it.

THE FLIP SIDE OF THE LONGER DAYS….

…is shorter days a few months later. Now that we are on the other side of the longest days of the year, we’re starting to feel the darkness creep in earlier and earlier. In the deep of winter, Edmonton doesn’t see a whole lot of daylight. Again, happy I’ll be in Hawaii.

All in all, it’s been a real slice spending the summer here in Edmonton. Having done so I can’t say that I’m so enamoured with the city that I would consider living here, or even coming back for more than quick visits from now on. Let’s just say I guess I’ve “been there, done that”.

It has also given me a new appreciation for Toronto. Although I see my future homes being somewhere in (or close to) the mountains, I have to admit that Toronto has a lot to offer. Culture, life, long summers, it’s situated on a lake, and I have so many family and friends to make Toronto a city with open arms to visit or live in.

Therefore, I’d like to attempt to describe the appeal of caving, at least for myself and those around me who enjoy it as a sport as well.

First, it behooves me to compare the thrill of caving to the thrill of mountaineering. Both are almost equally dangerous if not performed properly or with the right people. Getting noticed and rescued off the side of a mountain is arguably as difficult as from a cave. The trick is not to need to get rescued!

Both are activities that are enjoyed in the great outdoors, in an environment that is larger than life. The feeling of being ultimately so small in the grandiose world of the mountains is ever-present, and humbling to say the least. It is an honour for me to experience the mountains, and for mother nature to allow me to respectfully play in her playground.

To this one might say “Nora. Hello. You’re not in the great outdoors if you’re squashed inside some tiny cave”.

Touche.

Which brings me to the appeal specifically of caving. Caving is one of those things very few people ever do. It can be dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing, it requires a certain amount of know-how and equipment, and a team of other people who are willing and able to go caving as well! So to be one of the few people that ever experiences caving in general and the cave you’re in at the moment more specifically, is a very special thing.

Caves are also very fragile environments, as previously noted. Literally thousands of years of evolution create some of the soda straws, stalactites and stalagmites that exist peacefully in the cave. An act so careless as even touching one can ruin this delicate and special process. Respectfully admiring such beautiful things is an incredible experience.

You can also see signs of evolution in the shape and formations of the rock. You can imagine the cavern you are standing in as once being full of rushing water, even dating back to the days when the mountains were actually part of the ocean floor. Fossils are everywhere to be found, and the amateur historian in you can have a field day in a cave.

There is also a thrill in the exploration aspect. You see a tiny hole big enough for your body to fit through, and you wonder what’s on the other side. The ultimate achievement in a caver’s career is when they push through one of those tiny passages and discover a huge cavernous space on the other side, never before discovered. Or even better, they push through one of those passages to discover that the cave they were in connects to another cave entirely!

Caving is very much a mental sport (something I’ve gravitated towards with many of the sports I’ve participated in such as skydiving, motorcycle racing, and even mountaineering). It is very easy to get overwhelmed in a cave, allowing feelings of claustrophobia, cold, and isolation to take over. The accomplishment lies in keeping those feelings at bay and focusing on the task at hand. Similar to the concept of not looking down while scaling a mountain, not looking up in a cave is an apt motto!

And once you have conquered the fears associated with being inside the cave, and you emerge after a successful mission, the beautiful sights and smells (and brightness!) of the great outdoors can be appreciated all the more. The rush (for an adrenalin junkie like myself) is almost unparalleled.

Kelly has another take on his love of caving. Instead of being consumed with feelings of being under tons of rock, and feeling crowded or isolated, he says he actually feels cradled by the cave. He feels comforted, and the cave almost feels womb-like to him. I haven’t yet reached this level of appreciation, as maintaining the mental control to just get through the event is still at the forefront of my mind!

But whether it is the feeling of accomplishment, being proud of going places very few people ever go, conquering fears and keeping a level head, or appreciating the delicate nature and evolutionary trends inside the cave, caving is certainly a thrill for me and I look forward to the next exploration.

Being my first caving experience, we decided to start by aiming high with Disaster Point: a very technical cave involving multiple rappels into a hole in the ground. Without rope, you can’t even get close to the entrance, and you would certainly have a “disaster” on your hands if you were in the cave and lost your rope. (Okay, so maybe not the best cave to have chosen as a first for me, but there you have it).

Last year, standing nervously outside Disaster Point’s entrance.

So, as a newbie caver, I absolutely froze when I suddenly realized I was over 30 metres underground, I was cold, and I was looking up at an icy hole as my route back to the outside world. Before bottoming the cave, we got the heck out.

Fast forward to September of 2007: once again at Disaster Point’s doorstep.
First, let me tell you how we got there.

Kelly & I and our friend Luc have been out climbing a few times this summer, and in so doing have shared many ideas for big backcountry trips we’d like to take. Caves came into the conversation a few times, and more specifically a cave called Arctomys frequented our thoughts.

Arctomys, located near Mount Robson (the highest in the Canadian Rockies) in BC, is North America’s deepest cave. Although not hugely technical, it commands an elite caving crowd, due in part to its remoteness; it is located over 16kms from the nearest road. It has seen only a handful of people ever explore the cave, much less reach the bottom.

So what a great trip this would make, we thought. We could do a real backcountry trip, set up base camp near the cave, and spend a week exploring the cave, the nearby mountains, fish on our rest days, and enjoy the serenity of being away from it all.

And although Arctomys cave isn’t as technical a cave as others, it can be dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing or don’t have proper communication with your teammates. Which brings me to the trip we took this past weekend.

Originally our sights were set on Cadomin cave, a well-known cave near Hinton. However, caves are very precarious environments, and even somebody’s breath changing the air patterns in a cavern can kill any creatures that might be in there hibernating (eg: spiders, bats). And being a huge bat hibernaculum, the province bars access to Cadomin from September through May.

We, of course, only discovered this when we arrived at the cave, ready to go!
Ah well. On to Plan B, which was Disaster Point.

Left: Topping out while doing some rope training/playing.
Right: Enjoying the fall colours in the mountains.

So grooving away, I have been writing furiously. I write for a smattering of websites and papers, and I love every minute of it. I sell articles to web publications, I write “Point Of Interest” pieces for travel sites, and I am part of an active writing and reading community at Helium.

In my web travels, I happened upon a very entertaining and enlightening site called Wisebread. It features frugal living, personal finance, consumer tips, and career advice. A team of 20 writers posts articles to this glorified blog, and it has an active readership with over 5,000 subscribers, and over 400,000 hits since their start-up January.

Well, I’m the 21st on their team of writers!

After scouring the site for a few days and lapping up the informative and often humourous articles, I decided that I would be a great fit and could have a blast writing for it. With a background as a CFP and my current frugal path as a Hobo, I figured this was the place to write. And they apparently thought so too!

I’m already travelling up the initially steep learning curve of web-isms……blogging, clicking, keywords, SEOs, text link this, page rank that, and so on. I plan to submit a post at least once every other day to develop a repertoire of articles and dedicated readership too.

So if you’re ever wanting to know what Nora is doing and haven’t seen any Life Happens updates, check out Wisebread! You’ll be glad you did.

PS – One of the most entertaining posts I have found to date on the site is about Hustling Free Drinks. I’ve actually hustled a few drinks of my own since watching the embedded video – all in good fun, and amazing tricks!
I won’t tell you where it is on the site though……visit Wisebread and find it yourself! When you do, post a comment here (or on one of my articles on the site) to let me know what you think.

You may recognize that Hawaii is out of left field for us, since our original initial destination was Costa Rica and Latin America in general. Well, dear reader, read on!

One of our research tools in searching for opportunities has been the Caretaker’s Gazette. It is a classified system that connects people who need places to stay with people who need their places cared for in one fashion or another. Some listings are for house & pet-sitting during vacations, to required ranch hands, to managing hospitality properties, to agricultural properties, etc. The common theme to all listings is that in return for whatever the required chores or duties are to care for the place, you have a place to live. Sometimes it is temporary, sometimes permanent or semi-permanent arrangements.

Caretaking as a lifestyle often appeals to people who aren’t tied to the idea of needing a permanent home (hmmm…..can you say “Professional Hobo”? Hello “Freedom 30″!), and want to have more free time to work on their arts, businesses, or nose-picking techniques.

We rarely gave any of the listings much notice for whatever reason…..

TEXAS: Couple required as Ranch Hands to care for 60acre ranch. Animal husbandry skills required. 2bdrm house provided, utilities incl. Extensive background check required.

ENGLAND: Housesitter required for the period of August 23rd thru Sept 14th inclusive. Care for poodle, who needs 3 walks/day, at least 4miles. 2 friendly cats also to care for. Furnished condo with all the amenities provided.

….and so it goes, as an example.

However, after reading one particular listing for a position in Hawaii, I was strangely enthralled.

CO-CARETAKERS WANTED for a Big Island of Hawaii, 76 acre, beachfront, sustainable homestead/land trust in sunny Kapoho.Ecological, health conscious, drug free, responsible, energetic,fit, stable couple (age 20-40′s) wanted to co-caretake an offgrid (solar and wind) educational living project, that supportsfair, responsible, sustainable, and healthy living. Work/tradein exchange for housing: 13 days per month, four hours per day.Involves feeding chickens, milking goats, coppicing nitrogenfixing trees for green manure and fodder, and gardenmaintenance. Stipend available for extra days. Six monthsminimum but ideally desire lifetime commitment. 20 foot ferrocement yurt shape or 20 x 40 foot wood house with panoramicocean views, rain water catchment, hot shower, stove,refrigerator, wireless internet, surfing four miles away,snorkeling 1½ miles. We share excess organic eggs, goatmilk (kefir, mozzarella cheese, feta, and yogurt) vegetables,and tropical fruits. Desire pet, child, and auto free. Countybus transportation is free. Visit mywebsite at www.geocities.com/drrimerdo/popai.html

I wasn’t sure exactly what appealed to me in the listing as it actually sounds somewhat gruelling, so I showed it to Kelly, who had the same confused enthralled reaction. Neither of us planned on Hawaii being our next destination, but something about the project spoke to us.

So of course one thing led to another to another, and now we have plans to be in Hawaii at the end of October to be Rick & Iris’s future co-caretakers! They are a lovely couple whose mission is to leave as small a footprint on earth as possible. They achive this by living completely off the grid, and providing most of their needs off the land, and recycling everything back to the land. Everything. We mean everything!

They need the caretakers half of each month to give themselves some extra time for work (Rick is a doctor and Iris is a nurse), and Rick is currently working on a book as well. We appreciate their views, and are inspired by what they have built so far.

There will certainly be a learning curve for us, as we aren’t accustomed to milking goats or growing our own food, but we’re up for the challenges that we know lay ahead. There is also a noble sense of accomplishment we have by knowing we will have sustainable living techniques under our belt, as we feel that our future travels will be well aided by these techniques, and the ability to teach them to others in need.

Not to mention the idea of working four hour days for half the month in exchange for a piece of simple paradise seems pretty sweet too! I look forward to using free time to work more on my writing, Kelly will work on his music, and both of us will work on hiking, surfing, snorkelling, bicycling, and our tans!

We are committing to a minimum 6 month period, with the opportunity to extend our stay should we all find it is working well. Our intention is not to stay the rest of our lives in Hawaii, but we also don’t have anywhere we need to be, and have the absolute freedom to stay as long as we wish.

What happened to Costa Rica, you might ask? Well, as far as we have been led to believe, Central & South America will still be around for a while, and we are still quite drawn to these places. However, when opportunities like Hawaii present themselves, we are very proud of our ability to recognize them and have the flexibility to move on our instincts.

And although the plane tickets aren’t booked yet, we have no current reason to assume that this won’t transipre, and we’re really excited about living “da simple life” on a little piece of paradise.

Aloha!

When mountaineering, “Down Look Down” seems like a bit of a strange idiom; you would think that soaking in the scenery and looking up, down, and all around would be the name of the game. And of course – it is. However in my experience, there are times for looking around, and times for concentrating on the task at hand.

I have begun to boil mountaineering down to the process of identifying a series of problems to solve and overcome in order to reach the summit (and descend too – let’s not forget about that!) safely. You take it step by step, ledge by ledge. You get over the hump that is in front of you (whether it be a cliff face, snow slope, or simply a big tiring hill), and when you reach the end of that small adventure, you rest, soak in the scenery and bask in your recent achievement, then tackle the next obstacle between you and your goal. (Kinda like life, huh)? It’s a great way of training the mind to focus on the task at hand, and not worry about some of the “small stuff” that can occupy valuable space in our minds so often.

Left: Gazing up at the task at hand.

Right: Sunset over Mt. Richardson

The mountains have a wonderful habit of being quite deceiving on the eye. Climbing actually starts with standing at the bottom and surveying the mountain. You think you see a clear path, and man – it even looks easy. You don’t actually SAY it’s easy out loud though, because the “mountain gods” might hear you and decide to show you otherwise.

So instead, you humbly survey your path, and take a peek at alternate routes as much as possible. Then, you start your ascent, or even take more time and start with some initial reconnaissance, as we did on this trip.

Left: Nora posing as usual!

Right: Kelly doing some classic scrambling

Our original plan was to summit Mount Richardson, then traverse down and across a giant bowl of rocks and snow underneath two other peaks, and rise up again to summit Ptarmigan Mountain on the other side of this small range of four peaks. However what appeared to be a clear-cut and easy traverse from the ground became a different story once we got a little closer on our scouting mission.

What seemed from a distance like gentle snow slopes sometimes morphed into almost vertical drops once we got close. And what we were sure was an easy path across a ledge turned out to have a huge gulley dropping out hundreds of feet in the middle.

It was a good thing that we took an extra day to figure out these finer details, because it could have meant some serious delays (and possible problems) on our summit day.

So after an 8 mile hike into our campground to set up, and a further 6 hours of scouting (even climbing halfway up the mountain) to determine the best routes, we were ready to turn in for a well-deserved night’s sleep.

The next morning had our group of six up early and ready for anything. We ate, dressed, and packed up all the necessities we would need for our long day of climbing: at least 2 litres of water each, lunch, first aid kits, trekking poles, ice axes, helmets, and lots of layers for the cool thin air.

After hiking from our campsite to Hidden Lake (a beautiful and still partially frozen glacial lake at the bottom of the 4 mountains) we started moving up to the first saddleback, where we practiced some self-arrest techniques using our ice axes. The premise of the refresher was to ensure proper use of our ice axes, such that should anybody lose their footing on a snow slope we would know how to stop ourselves effectively – a pretty handy technique if you ask me. Some of the cliffs already looming below didn’t look too nice. Ice axes are also quite useful for balance and extra security when moving through both snow and rocky landscapes.

At this time of year (July), there should have been very little or no snow on these mountains at all, however the winter past saw epic amounts of snowfall in the Rockies, and consequently the standard path up Mount Richardson was impossible to traverse. Such is part of adventuring in the mountains – you don’t ever know what you’re going to see and you need to be prepared for anything and everything.

The next step to our ascent was the long undulating ridge which trended gradually upwards towards the peak of Mount Richardson. Because we were off the beaten path due to the snow, we had to take each obstacle as it arose, treading where people don’t generally go on this mountain. Sometimes the obstacle was getting around a large boulder by scrambling and climbing over it or carefully around it (without looking down at the thin air beneath you of course). Sometimes the ridge rocks were too much to get over, and had to be given a wider berth by moving down a snow slope and around to the next ledge. And on a few welcome occasions, all we had to do was meander along the wide path at the top of the ridge, taking in a luscious untouched green alpine meadow on one side, and Hidden Lake with its ever-changing blues and greens on the other side.

Much of the mountaineering game is a mental one. Some of the obstacles you face would be complete non-issues if you knew there were few if any consequences. Think of it this way: if you had to walk across a narrow beam that was 2 feet off the ground, you wouldn’t give it a second thought; you could practically run across it. But put that same beam up much higher (when the consequence of losing your balance would be considerably more dire), and you might freeze. At the very least you wouldn’t brazenly run across.

In mountaineering, you need to see what is in front of you, and know for yourself that you can get across that proverbial beam, whether it is two feet or two thousand feet off the ground. It requires the mental confidence and focus on the task at hand in order to get past that moment, hence the adage: Don’t Look Down.

Left: The view from the summit. That’s Lake Louise in the background.

Right: Descending one of the many steep snow slopes.

Of course, we safely arrived at the glorious peak of Mount Richardson (seven hours after leaving camp that morning), and soaked in the 360 degree view of such splendours as Lake Louise, Mount Assiniboine (the highest mountain in the Canadian Rockies), Mount Hector (the top of which looks like Snoopy lying on top of his dog house), and clouds racing mere metres above our heads on this windy oasis.

Descending was much easier and quicker than ascending, and was loads of fun. Instead of carefully carving out snow steps up and across widely exposed areas of the mountain (a challenging hurtle which I mustered the courage to lead myself), we simply plopped down on our butts and slid down, of course arresting ourselves with our trusty ice axes as we neared the bottom of each snow patch. Instead of trudging up the slippery scree on which every three steps up inevitably entailed falling one step back, we would “scree ski” or slide in a controlled manner on our feet with every step we took.

And we were certainly thankful that the descent wasn’t as long and arduous as the ascent; some members of our team were very dehydrated, and Kelly even managed to injure his knee about two thirds of the way down and back to camp. It’s easy to happen: for him it was a matter of one foot falling through a hole in the snow, while the other foot was still planted behind him, twisting his knee.

Thank goodness it didn’t happen further up the mountain, and thank goodness for the supportive team of climbers around us. Kelly managed to get back to camp on his own steam (amazingly), where he sat back and iced it while I took care of the dinner preparation and cleanup. On our hike out to the car the following day, we were so lucky to have generous team members help Kelly carry out his belongings so he didn’t have to worry about any extra weight, and he painfully managed to hike all the way out at a decent pace I might add.

At the beginning of this weekend, we didn’t know any of our team members at all. But after three days of hiking together, cooking and eating together, climbing, problem solving, and overcoming challenges together, we grew, learned about each other and ourselves, and became quite close in a sense. We supported each other through our individual trials and learning experiences. We had lots of time to find out each other’s personal reasons for being in the mountains, and sometimes even discovered our own internal mountains to be climbed.

And as we discovered and celebrated each other’s differences and challenged ourselves along the way, we always kept our heads high and enjoyed the views as much as possible. But when we had to focus on the task at hand, all of us held to one surefire rule: Don’t Look Down.

When I’ve travelled on planes in the more conventional sense though, I’ve always been resigned to the dreaded Economy Class. The Barn. You know…..how the low-lives of the world travel. The cramped seats with mediocre arm rests where inevitably a screaming baby is strategically placed near you, and maybe two if it’s an especially long flight.

Once upon a time they used to call it 2nd class or 3rd class travel. Then they (“they” being the big airline gods in the sky) decided it might be degrading to be labelled in such a manner and started creating euphemistic titles like Economy, Budget, and Basic seats. As if paying up to thousands of dollars to fly is something “basic” for the budget-minded.

And of course, the amenities on such flights have decreased as time goes by too. Years ago in the heyday of airline travel, you would be delightfully served free drinks, given all the peanuts you could choke back, full meals, and more free drinks. You recognized a good flight when you could barely stand up straight when disembarking.

These days you’re lucky to get one non-alcoholic drink without being charged, and forget about the peanuts or meals. Airport food concession stands are now equipped to pack up your order so you can eat it on the plane.

I for one miss airline food. I so enjoyed getting the little plastic tray compartmentalized to resemble a tv dinner. I would eagerly peel the saran wrap off the sometimes frozen bun, try to discern what my mystery salad contained, and peel back the foil covering my main course to discover what weird and wonderful (and sometimes unidentifiable) food it held. And don’t even get me started on the delightful desserts. The tiny salt and pepper, the plastic cutlery and cups, and laminate trays always screamed adventure to me.

And inevitably, as soon as the meals were cleared and coffee was served, turbulence began. Good thing the peel-back trays attached to the seat in front of me had the quarter inch indentation in which my cup could rest….goodness knows what havoc would have happened without that secure resting spot. I might actually have spilt all my coffee and not just half in that turbulence.

In all my years as a low-life Economy passenger, I wondered what life was like in First Cass (which is now euphemistically called Business Class so as not to offend the 3rd class passengers). They always got on the plane first. So when I was boarding, I had to be paraded through and beyond the comfortable first class passengers, who were already enjoying a complementary newspaper, pillows and blankets, or just watching us cows get herded through their section to our less luxurious seats. At times I could have sworn people were pointing and laughing.

But what really got my goat was that curtain. The curtain that got pulled across the aisle to definitively separate first class seats from the rest. Shortly after the seatbelt light went off a flight attendant would close the curtains to block our view of the inevitable celebrations and dancing taking place on the other side. And I was sure that the attendant had an air of snobbery in doing it too….I distinctly heard a “hmph” and detected an upturned nose in their curtain-pulling antics.

I became obsessed with what transpired on the other side of that curtain. Not enough so to shell out the sticker price which was often triple the cost of my low-life ticket, but enough to devise ways to investigate the other side. I often heard stories of people being magically upgraded to first class, either because they happened to be unwittingly schmoozing at the airport bar with the right person, or because they were just so darn well dressed.

So I dressed to the nines for flights, kept my eyes peeled for the right people, and did everything I could to get the upgrade. Upon checking in I would beg for an upgrade, to no avail. Even when I flew away to get married, the lady at the counter checking my luggage had no sympathy.

Just when I had decided that the first class life was all a sham, a thought struck me. Why not ask the gate attendants? They process stand-by tickets, and they seem to have all the flight information at their fingertips. And besides, what harm was there in asking?

Well, the first few times I asked gate attendants for an upgrade, it was laughable. I was so nervous I stuttered, I never felt like I had a good enough reason to be upgraded, and I usually waited until people were actually boarding to get up the nerve to ask at all. So the answer was always an almost laughable “no”.

I learn quickly though, and the last time I flew I applied all my lessons to date.

I had accidentally arrived at the airport almost three hours in advance of my flight – a real no-no in my books, especially considering it was a domestic flight. By this time I had boiled down the flight experience to a fine art, printing boarding passes off at home and breezing into the airport no more than an hour in advance. But on this particularly oppressive day, riddled with jet lag and knowing there was a terrible accident on the roads near the airport, I miscalculated the time sorely and only realized my blunder when I arrived at the gate after already killing some time elsewhere in the airport, wondering why the plane wasn’t yet at the gate. It was because I was almost two hours early at the gate. Yikes.

Already tired of my book and coddling a recently injured knee, I sat back and started to watch the activities of the gate and surrounding areas. About an hour before the now long-anticipated departure the gate attendant arrived and settled in to start the check-in process. I noticed she was in an especially good mood, cracking jokes with her colleagues.

So up I sidled to her, with the saddest most tired look I could muster, wincing with each step from my injured knee. I told her my sob story of jet lag, arriving early, a sore knee, not forgetting to add that I am a travel writer who has been on the road for a (sob, sob) three month stint, and wondered if she had any room “up front” for me.

And this time, it worked! I was told not to expect a meal, and whamo – my boarding pass was magically traded for the upgraded one: seat 1D. I finally got to see what happened on the other side of the curtain.

And of course, I would like to share the uproarious events of my first class flight with you, however now that I’m in the club, I have sworn an oath of secrecy, and I am forbidden to divulge the secrets of the “other side of the curtain”. Suffice to say, there wasn’t a piece of plastic cutlery in sight, I actually did enjoy the three course meal, and I wasn’t exactly walking a straight line by the time I got off the plane at my destination.

Here’s to sob stories, injured knees, arriving at the airport hours in advance, and very kind gate attendants. Thank you Air Canada!