We left Kamloops early in the morning, so that we would have plenty of time at our next destination, Valemount.

Valemount is a tiny little mountain town, conveniently located at the intersection of 3 mountain ranges, The Caribee, Monashee and the Rockie mountains all meet here.

The hostel here was nothing short of magnificent! Nestled amongst the forest, it featured beautifully appointed log cabins with an outdoor hot tub to boot. The one we stayed in featured a big screen teev, pool table, comfy lounges and a wireless internet terminal. Not bad for $22 a night, but like Whistler, in winter the bunk beds come out and it turns into a ski chalet and the price sky rockets.

The official Moose activity for the afternoon was horse riding, which Karen and I gave the meh reaction do.

Karen spent the afternoon lazing around the chalet writing emails and enjoying the view off of the back porch, and I teamed up with my buddy Marco from the tour and went mountain biking for the afternoon.

We headed out to the back of town to do one of the recommended rides through the forest, a scenic one that follows a little fire road up and down one of the smaller mountains. Let me tell you, there was a lot of up. A lot. Seriously, I struggled to keep up with Marco, since he has 5 years and 20 kilos on me, and also lives in the very mountainous Switzerland.

One of the concerning things about the Canadian wilderness is bears. Sure, they look cute and cuddly, but they will rip your head clean from your body if threatened. It wasn't so bad in Whistler, since there is guys tearing around those trails on bikes all day everyday. The Valemount trail on the other hand was a deserted fire trail that might get used once a day if your lucky.

My concern cranked up a notch before the ride, when the guy hiring the bike said "you'll need these" as he handed us cans of bear sized mace. Hmmm. I wasn't that concerned though, I mean I never walk around the Australian bushland worried about the deadly snakes or swim at Australian beach worrying about sharks.

So there we were struggling up this massive mountain, Marco ahead, me trailing about 20 meters or so behind. I was rooted, but we were nearly at the top so it was all good. Marco stopped to muck around with his chain, and I went ahead and rounded a bend in the road. It was at this time I saw what I now know to be an adolescent black bear bolt off of the road into the forest. Cue messy undies.

I stopped dead. Marco wanted to go a bit further to catch a glimpse, but I wasn't having a bar of that. I find it funny that no one who comes to Australia wants to see a crocodile or great white shark in the wild, but everyone who comes here wants to see a bear. I moose I can understand, but you wanna see a bear? Go to the bloody zoo, those bastards are dangerous.

Anyway, it didn't take Marco long to see reason and we headed back down that hill like the wind.

Back at the chalet, I was happy to gloat about seeing a bear though.

We had a good fun night, playing pool, watching teev and drinking. One of the funny things about the chalet was that number 10 on the list of rules on the wall was "no drinking games", so when our tour guide organized a group game later in the evening, it was a game that probably would have been better alcohol free.

Sadly though, it wasn't. The drunken olympics featured three events, which were sort of complicated and I won't bother to explain right now, but all you really need to know is that they all required balance, coordination, upper body strength and flexibility. We all had a country to represent and I had Australia.

Unlike the real olympics, there was no "gold, gold, gold for Australia!" here. As a matter of fact, in two out of the three events, good old Oz came stone motherless last.