Beware the grey wolf

With George on Mount Norquay
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Mount Norquay is the nearest ski hill to Banff. "Ow!" I shout inadvertently when our guide George shakes my hand. Certainly, as we have gone further west, into this traditionally conservative part of Canada, the handshakes have got markedly firmer. But there is still a cosmopolitan feel to Canada's mid-West. Winnipeg, where I stayed the night, is home to the largest French-speaking population outside Quebec, in the laundromat at Jasper I met some Pennsylvanian Dutch, speaking an entirely unintelligible (to me) 17th- or 18th century form of German, and George and his fellow guides are Czech. Most of Canada's resorts have guides who will show you around the ski area at no charge. They are often retired and as you ride the chairlifts with them many have fascinating stories to tell about how they fled Europe. But I am beginning to flag - a cold that has been threatening for days is taking hold and I am ready to stop. "I know the perfect thing," says Vlady seizing my arm, "a grey wolf. It's a Czech drink, half cherry brandy, the rest ginger and lemon. It'll make you sweat out the cold overnight." Call me a sissy, but I prefer to sweat out my cold in the hot tubs of this historic spa town.