Here’s a follow‑up to this week’s pricing note: a lighthearted look at why travel feels pricier since Covid, what’s actually driving it, and how we’re working to keep value high even as the loonie limbos lower.
First I would like to make a confession first. Talking about prices, especially when they’re rising, is easily the least fun part of this job, and it’s certainly not why Wheel & Anchor exists. But since this week’s main article addressed our upcoming November 1 price adjustment, it’s only fair to zoom out and explain the bigger picture that every traveller, operator, airline, and hotel is living inside right now.
Let’s start with the elephant on our side of the border. The Canadian dollar has had a wobbly year, and while there are deep, sober forces at play—interest rate differentials, safe‑haven flows, energy prices—it’s tempting to chalk it up to the “antics” of our friends in government down south, who seem to find new ways to keep currency markets caffeinated. Said with a smile, of course, but the practical effect is serious: when the U.S. dollar flexes and the Euro tags along, everything we buy for trips: rooms, transfers, riverboats, guides, etc. costs more in CAD even if local prices haven’t changed.
But the loonie isn’t the only character in this drama. Since travel reopened, demand hasn’t just come back, it’s reinvented the curve. The assumption in 2020 was that business travel would remain soft forever because Zoom had eaten the corporate lunch. Instead, a hybrid creature bloomed: “bleisure.” People are combining work trips with holidays, or taking work along on holidays, because remote tools make it easy to answer emails from Lisbon as readily as from London, Ontario. Fewer purely corporate road‑warriors, more laptop‑toting wanderers turning four‑day meetings into ten‑day stays. Hotels, airlines, and destinations have been pricing into that reality.
Layer onto that the rise of new middle classes around the world, particularly across Asia and parts of the Middle East and Latin America. Simply put, there are millions more people with the means and motivation to see Petra, the Amalfi Coast, Kyoto, or even a safari in the Serengeti. Those bucket‑list places were competitive before; now they’re playing at a higher altitude. When more travellers chase a limited number of rooms, seats, and prime‑season dates, prices float up, even without currency shenanigans.
There’s also a supply story that’s easy to miss. Airlines didn’t bring back every aircraft at once; pilot pipelines take years to refill; shipyards and aircraft manufacturers face their own delays; hotels have been staffing back carefully, and many destinations still have fewer keys online than they did in 2019. It’s a long way of saying the world turned the demand dial to eleven faster than supply could match it, and the gap shows up on invoices.
Add in the subtler cultural shift. Many travellers in our community decided, wisely, in my somewhat biased view, that time is precious and experiences matter. That means choosing better‑located hotels over long commutes, direct trains over complicated routings, “skip‑the‑line” access over standing in aggravating lineups. These choices add real value to a trip, and they also add real cost. When everyone leans toward quality, market prices follow.
So the bad news, delivered gently: unless the world throws us another major curveball (heaven forbid), general travel pricing is likely to keep inching upward. Fuel, labour, and financing aren’t racing to the bottom; demand remains sturdy across seasons; and foreign exchange rates may continue to be the unruly dance partner we didn’t invite. That’s the broad canvas on which our November 1 adjustment sits.
Now the good news, which I can deliver with considerably more enthusiasm: value is not a static concept, and we spend our days stretching it. At Wheel & Anchor, there are levers we can pull that don’t require trimming the soul out of a trip. We can favour “second‑city” brilliance over first‑city congestion, where the cafés are friendlier, the crowds gentler, and the hotels better located for less. We can tilt toward shoulder seasons, where weather is still grand, light is golden, and rates haven’t hit summer’s high notes. We can structure longer stays and LiveAways that trade “hotel‑hop friction” for a home‑base rhythm and better (sometimes) weekly pricing.
Behind the scenes, we hedge currency where it makes sense (although my multi-decade experience is that this can be a double-edged sword), hold long‑standing partner rates where loyalty still counts, and re‑sequence itineraries to avoid the obvious price spikes while preserving the moments that make a journey feel singular. The litmus test we use internally is blunt: does this choice protect the quality our members feel on the ground? If yes, we find a way. If not, we keep iterating.
To circle back to the start: no one here delights in price increases—least of all me. But even the most disciplined operator can only stretch a wallet so far before the elastic snaps, and we’d rather keep running small, beautifully paced programs than sell a cheaper product we don’t believe in. That’s why we gave as much notice as possible, are honouring current pricing for bookings with deposits received through October 31, and stood up to say out loud what many in our space whisper: costs have risen everywhere, not just on our spreadsheet.
The world is still an extraordinary classroom, a veritable banquet of cultures, landscapes, and friendships waiting to be made. Our promise, through this choppy “CAD vs USD and the world” chapter and beyond, is to keep finding the sweet spots, those places, seasons, and experiences where the Canadian dollar still travels brilliantly. If the last few years proved anything, it’s that curiosity is resilient. We’ll keep matching it with thoughtful design, steady hands, and good humour—even when our southern neighbours’ “antics” give the loonie another twirl.