World’s Best Burger in Avola

We’re in a log cabin pub/guest house, 250km south west of Jasper, AT a place called Avola, British Columbia, Canada. A bloke named Larry runs it and the sign on the front door says “There ain’t no place like this place, so… this must be the place”.

When you enter the log cabin pub it’s a mid-19th century trapper’s cabin with lots of memorabilia, and parked outside is a clean, unrestored 1964 red Chevrolet Impala he bought from a friend, who bought 21 cars from a deceased estate, still in the deceased’s shed.

Beside the Chev is his Harley Davidson. He’s been here for 25 years.

The highway signs advertise his hamburgers as the “World’s Best” and in the pub the kitchen and bar share the same bench. His dog, Choco, a mini foxy, sits on the floor of the bar/kitchen and eats morsels, lovingly handed to him by Larry, during Larry’s preparation of someone’s “World’s best burger”. I didn’t mention gloves did I? No, don’t have to… No one took any notice.

The population of Avola is 26 and over a few beers, after one of the ‘truly’, “World’s best Hamburgers”, we met a fair percentage of the population. There were 12 or so in the pub, three locals, three born and bred here, but visiting to see their parents, and eight or so tourists. All the tourists except Lynn and I were couples around 30, of various nationalities.

Late in the evening and very dark, one of the “visiting” locals (Patrick) took us on a guided tour of Avola. The tour bus was his dad’s old golf cart, powered by a petrol motor. A small problem was that the lights didn’t work so we squeezed in the front bench seat and zoomed about in the dark.

Avola, population 26, is not huge. It’s jammed between the Trans Canadian railway line and trunk highway 5. (Highway5 links jasper to Vancouver). We crossed the highway twice, close enough to midnight, with no problem, even though the cart took forever to get across!

We pulled into a petrol/convenience store, with the young Canadian/Serb polishing a brochure stand with much flourish, but not prepared to acknowledge the golf cart in his forecourt, with three inebriated drivers, discussing the history of Avola near him.

We whipped down a side street, through a double block and circled Albert’s house (Albert was in the pub, Larry is trying to buy his house), no street lights, only the cats-eye vision of the inebriated. We told Pat early on in the trip that at Lynn’s 50th we’d played golf as a group and managed to roll two (or maybe three) carts, so Pat didn’t hold back. We saw the public school building which is now the Town Hall, we mistook a communal garden for the cemetery and narrowly escaped rolling on the rail tracks quite a few times.

A very funny night.

More soon from Vancouver, last stop before Home!