There’s something special about mountains. I’m in Whistler, Canada, for the Cornucopia food and wine festival, and it’s great to be here.

Whistler is North America’s largest ski resort. It’s odd being in a ski resort just before the first real snows of the season. It’s as if it’s still snoozing, waiting to wake when its slopes open, which is probably going to be in a few weeks’ time. The village has a lovely feel to it, with its pedestrian-focused streets.

Yesterday I had a clear morning, so I walked. There are lots of trails here, clearly marked, and I took a stroll over to, and all the way around, Lost Lake. It was quite magical.

Being in mountains does something for me. It’s what I liked most about skiing, when I used to do it: you are on the mountain. I walked and walked, breathing it all in. Alpine beauty.

There was a moment that was quite special: a tree growing out of a tree. New life coming from something that looked dead. It spoke to me of new beginnings and second chances. And that nothing is wasted. Even the seemingly dead bits of our life can be the source of new life.

I’ve come away more centred. Ready for what comes next.