We learnt about the extremes of Canadian weather during our family touring holiday. One moment we were watching entire islands being swept along an immense broad valley in meltwater floods. The next we were struggling to drive over roads sealed in six inches of ice. Then it was summer again and we found ourselves in the sunshine on a beautiful yellow sandy beach (which my father erroneously claimed was in Pitlochry).

At the end of our trip we needed to return to Toronto Airport to catch our flight home again. However, we had spent so much time in the wilderness of the Rockies that we had lost our bearings completely and were now hopelessly lost. We eventually found a small settlement called Salt where a Scottish woman explained that we were heading in completely the wrong direction.

She seemed keen to keep us on her land. We, however, were desperate to leave. We feared for our lives in the company of her three ferocious Jack Russell terriers. Baring their teeth, they looked ready to gobble up the entire family – just as soon as they worked out how jump up through the windows and into our car.