The One Where We Went To Cedar Trees

Early morning in Banff was lovely. Once again the sun was shining (how lucky have we been?) so we hopped on the downtown bus again but stayed on to the bridge at the far end of town for a further look around and to enjoy a longer stroll back. Imagine somewhere slightly smaller than Stratford but with the same sort of feel - a river, parks, historic buildings, an array of small (and some not so small) shops, enough to engage the tourists at all times of year etc but then drop a gobsmackingly gorgeous backdrop right round in a full 360 degree vista. Banff! Beautiful.

View from the bridge ...

And heading back into town over same bridge. Stunning!

What's more the streets are wide, the traffic slow and drivers respectful of pedestrians, it's clean, quiet and well maintained. I loved that all the cross streets are named after wildlife - Elk Street, Bear Street etc - and that junctions with the main thoroughfare are indicated with engraved brass plaques about 18" across, set into the pavement. 

Buffalo Street and Wolf Street

And just in case you were not sure when you'd arrived at Moose Avenue, they helpfully built a large but appropriately chalet-like hotel of same name and marked it in an unobtrusive way.

This may be the only moose I see :-( 

Saying goodbye to Banff after a brief but very pleasant visit was tough. We could have stayed longer, but our next stop, and the Okenagen Valley (wine!) was beckoning. Back past Lake Louise and the already amassing crowds, and on to Highway 1, the Trans-Canadian Highway, towards Revelstoke. 

Blue skies, beautiful views and a straight road meant we made good progress.

Then suddenly, after an hour or so, the drive got interesting. Winding through steep mountain passes required careful concentration such that at Golden (and the quaintly named Kicking Horse ski resort) we stopped for lunch and to swap drivers.  It was noticeable that having left Banff National Park and as we unceremoniously slipped across the border from Alberta back into BC, there was a distinct but subtle change of scenery. The mountains became less vast, equally beautiful but less rocky, more alpine, which was when we realised we had also transitioned from Banff National Park into Glacier National Park. 

This park's history is closely tied to the Canadian Pacific Railway which was finished in 1885. Before then this area was virtually impassable, prone as it was to heavy snow and avalanches. It has many active glaciers, one of the largest networks of underground caves in Canada and a large number of trails which attract keen alpine walkers (not us - we were just passing through). In fact some say that the early pioneers who were determined to access these peaks and valleys were those who gave rise to the 'sport' of mountaineering. The 'main event' is known as Rogers Pass. I would have taken a photograph but I was too busy hanging on to the door handle as we made our way up, down and around the hair-pin bends. 

We did however have another rest stop in mind before checking in to tonight's accommodation. HRH had spotted that just before our turn-off and at the eastern edge of Revelstoke National Park (no kidding, they all pretty much run into each other round here), was a Giant Cedar Boardwalk. 

This short but beautiful walk takes you into the heart of the forest, among cedar trees that may be more than 500 years old. To put that into perspective we were informed that many of the trees there were seedlings when Columbus discovered America, saplings when the Mona Lisa was painted in 1506 and already more than 100 years old when Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet was first performed in 1595! That's old ...

... I meant the trees!

Shaggy-barked western red cedar ...

... and furrowed western hemlock.

See how big they are? Comedy shot coming up. 

Tree hugger

We were fascinated that this woodland has been left completely natural (apart from constructing the walkway) with as much dead or dying as thriving and growing, demonstrating the whole unique ecosystem for everything from bears to bats, birds to bugs. 

Decay and evidence of earlier growth

So there we have it. Another day, another  shared experience. And that was where today's blog was going to end. We checked in and guess what? We were next to the lift!!! But it's ok :-) I road-tested it for noise and the room was pronounced acceptable so I headed to the open-air jacuzzi for a lovely long soak. And then a familiar face appeared. With a new room key. We'd moved. Nuff said. New room has a balcony ..... 

It seems HRH has been here before. Before he became King Edward VIII that is when he unveiled a tablet at the top of Mount Revelstock in 1919. A man of influence. 

Drove My Chevy to the Levee....

Yup! It was rocks and rollin' for yours truly today. And ok, so it wasn't quite the levee that we drove to but there WAS a lot of water involved! 

After our first stop (more later) I was at the wheel, cruisin' down the Icefields Parkway, otherwise known as Highway 93 out of Jasper and heading south. Known as possibly one of the most scenic routes in the world, there were SO many possibilities for places to stop, even if only for a short while, that we were spoilt for choice and having to make ruthless decisions given that we also had to cover 330 kilometres. And the rocks? Well just when we thought we'd seen mountains, along come the real Rockies, huge, towering hunks of, well rock really. So far above sea level that they soar way above the sustainable tree line such that, unlike the mountains in British Columbia that are majestic yet verdant with pine and fir trees so these are hard, hulking, dramatic and imposing, imprinting their sheer size on the landscape in a way that makes it impossible to forget that they are in charge, both of history and the future. They have stood for millennia and will continue to dominate the scenery for many more to come. 

Our first stop of the day was one of those we almost gave a miss and boy, would we have missed a treat. The trouble is after nearly three weeks of incredible scenery you start to reach saturation point. Mistake! Lesson learned after we very nearly decided to overlook Athabasca Falls. 'Hmmm, what do you think? Another waterfall?' 'Oh go on, it will do us good to get out and stretch our legs. We have a lot of miles to cover'. And BAM! Unbelievable. Bigger, faster, more beautiful etc etc. And we arrived when the sun's rays chose to bless us and our impromptu stop with nature's kiss.

Rainbow caught in the spray

One of the fabulous things about touring in Jasper National Park is the freedom to pull in at any rest stop, viewing point or attraction with no parking charges, no entrance fees, no washroom coins required and no litter! Now we realise what the three-day park pass was for, and very well worth it too. Our day cruising the Icefield Parkway was truly enhanced by this spontaneous approach, by the ability to catch any 'wow', to stop and photograph any view, and to connect with our own version of the majesty of the Rockies as we saw fit. All that is true except of one location - the Columbia Icefields/Athabasca Glacier. Next stop. 

For this 'attraction' HRH did loads of research (thank you TripAdviser), I had trawled the guide books and we had consulted people we know who have done a similar trip or whom we have met whilst in Canada. It's fair to say some people really enjoyed their visit but a significant majority had less than glowing reports to give, so we were prepared. Again, I suspect we have been spoiled by previous experiences, but I'm very pleased we didn't spend the £50+ each to join this bun fight. Sorry, but it has become very commercial and consequently something of a disappointment. Apparently I didn't do a very good job of hiding my distain. HRH had this to say (I asked for his unadulterated version): "In isolation it was perhaps quite spectacular. We've seen more impressive glaciers, in nicer settings. But hey, it was ok". His was the generous verdict! We saved ourselves the outlay, walked out on our four feet to the toe of the ice which was disappointingly grubby and surrounded by parched, scrubby brown earth and hoards of people. I've included a photograph because you'll understand why I accept I'm being somewhat disingenuous but we were both happy to leave it behind and resume our drive.

We hiked the short distance to stand metres from the receding ice. Others took the specialised ice buses to drive onto it further back and walk on it. 

The afternoon was given over to lakes, and views, and views, and lakes. So many beauty spots it is hard to recollect them all. The clouds came and went, the day was hot then humid, the light was intermittently great and then not, so our snaps once again don't always do the landscape justice but the memories will linger on.

Nigel's Pass

Waterfowl Lake

Bow Lake

Crowfoot Glacier

Lake Louise deserves a special mention. In a picture-perfect setting this beautiful lake boasts a chateau-style hotel for the privileged few to look down upon the glacial water. For the rest of us, and apparently there are so many visitors that at times the approach roads are closed, an opportunity to take in the gorgeousness from the shoreline. We arrived at close to 6.00pm and although we had no difficulty getting there or parking, I've cropped out the people in the foreground all of whom were doing as we were - trying to get that special shot. This doesn't do it justice. C'est la vie. 

At Lake Moraine we had slightly better luck. The last stop of a lovely day's drive before our ultimate destination.

Arriving in Banff after 8.00pm we were delighted to be offered complimentary passes on the local shuttle. I'm a sucker for experiencing places like locals if possible so loved hopping on a bus to 'downtown', where we rolled into the 'Elk and Oarsmen' for burgers and beer. Big love. 

A Symphony in C Major

Following yesterday's somewhat sedentary day driving to Jasper we were happy that today we'd be out in the fresh air. After much debate and taking into consideration advice from other people we've met, we decided to hike, under our own steam, the length of the Maligne Canyon before a couple of further stops later in the day, weather and energy permitting. Turns out it was a great choice. With bright, though not altogether sunny weather, we geared up and set off out of town. 

I should explain that the canyon, and indeed the river and the lake of the same name, were called Maligne (French for 'evil' or 'wicked') after Father Pierre-Jean de Smet, a Belgian Jesuit missionary had trouble crossing the river on his horse in 1846. The canyon varies in width at different points along its route but at 50 metres (160 feet) deep for most of its 2.5 mile length it is only passable by six strategically placed bridges. 

The canyon is accessed from various places but we chose to start at the end and work towards the beginning, thereby avoiding the significant crowds who don't opt for the full experience and only manage Bridges 1 and 2. Having parked at Bridge 6 we had the trail pretty much to ourselves for a large part of the walk. Deep joy. And I'm not just saying that - the realisation that we were in the Rocky Mountains, in gorgeous fir woodland, with alpine peaks as a backdrop and taking in sights and sounds of such beauty is enough to really make you stop talking and just think how lucky we are to be alive. I really wish I could share the musicality of the water coursing alongside, at times bubbling, roaring, rushing or crashing through the canyon, or the birdsong, or the percussion of boots thumping rhythmically on the compacted mud floor or missing a beat when rocks dictated a minor diversion. The irony is that in bear country you are advised to keep conversation flowing so that they are aware of your presence but in the magnificent setting today we were happy to tune into nature's symphony and leave the canyon to be its own bear-deterrent. 

My other wish is that the photographs could convey the true majesty of this place. It's impossible to show the scale of the mountains, the depth of the drop to the canyon floor, the shapes formed by water crashing over rocks for millennia, the colours of the glacial water and the minerals in the rock in a few hurriedly taken snapshots. You have to see them to appreciate the beauty pageant in all its glory. All this stuff about sounds and sights will hopefully clarify my 'symphony' in 'C (canyon) major'.

Enjoying the fresh air

At times the river literally emerges from beneath the rock over which you are walking. Clearly here it isn't deep at all.

Now the canyon gets more interesting. Sometimes the river tumbles over rocks, is fed by glacial run-off, it pours out through caves and thunders around bends, eroding the walls by fractions of millimetres more each year. 

Starting to get a sense of the depth of the canyon ...

... and the power of the water to erode rock.

Look closely - I'm there in the middle and it's a LONG way down.

The photos could go on, and on, and I'm still not sure they would capture the canyon's impact. We had a wonderful few hours, and returned to the car enriched and glowing. 

Our second and third stops of the day were much less energetic but nevertheless interesting so 'bear' with me.

At Medicine Lake we pulled over to take yet another snap but importantly to read the info boards, explaining its alternative name, the 'Disappearing Lake'. 

Looking dark and broody under heavy clouds. To get a sense of the size, those are people right down by the water's edge. 

In summer Medicine Lake looks pretty much like many others in Jasper National Park. By October, however, it has virtually vanished and yet there is no visible outlet. Furthermore it remains empty until each spring the lake returns. The native Indians thought the disappearance was down to 'big medicine' or magic and feared the lake. In fact, a network of underground cracks, caused by glacial activity allow the Maligne River to flow out at a constant rate yet with the addition of melting snow and rainwater run-off the lake takes on more in summer than the drainage system can carry out, hence a temporary lake is formed every year.

And so to Maligne Lake itself. All around is the Queen Elizabeth range of mountains, with Monkhead central, far off in the distance. Once again the absence of sunshine made the photos disappointing. The steaming bowls of chilli in the restaurant there were most definitely not. Great way to wrap up our fresh-air day before the drive back to Jasper. 

Did I mention we'd had a great day? 

Looking relaxed and happy - and on the mend :-) 

Northern Stars

Sunday means a lazy start, especially when on holiday, so we yawned and stretched and took a leisurely approach to breakfast which was shared with four other Brits, all lodged at the same B&B and all doing one version of the same trip as us or another. We exchanged tips on what to see where, what to avoid and then all headed off in our various directions, in our case waving goodbye to the Lake House and heading north.

By late morning the clouds were trying hard to lift but as the road was good we made excellent time with only a little disappointment about the lower temperatures and the hidden views, and before long were at the most northern point on our driving route, and coincidentally at the highest point in the Canadian Rockies, Mount Robson. The rest stop and information centre there is not much more than that but it is extremely well placed, set as it is where, on a clear day, the star attraction would be magnificently framed from the viewing platform at the back of the building. We threw on fleeces, stepped outside, and here's what we saw:

  Shame :-( 

Undaunted we bought hot chocolate and a sarnie and so passed 15 minutes in a pretty setting but where the lead performer flatly refused to emerge centre stage. The sun, however, did make a welcome appearance which only served to confirm how changeable the conditions can be high up in the mountains. And it seems the sunshine wasn't the only thing that came out to play this afternoon. Meet our second northern star of the day.

Our first elk of our Canadian adventures was grazing alongside the Yellowhead Highway and was utterly undistracted when I leapt from the car and approached within 4 feet! It was only afterwards that it occurred to me that those antlers could do quite some damage - hmmm.

And so to Jasper. What an unexpected place. First of all you cross the county/state border from British Columbia into Alberta (losing another hour on the clock, to boot - how come no-one mentioned that!?) and enter the National Park. Then you arrive at the checkpoint/gate and get grilled on your plans whilst in the park, before being issued with a 'permission slip' and a bill (for almost $60 for our forthcoming 3 days - how come no-one mentioned THAT?!)

And here we are, in Jasper itself. It's clear the custodians of the National Park would probably rather not have a town in the centre of such an area of outstanding natural beauty at all. Jasper is a small linear place that appears to serve mostly as somewhere for people to stay temporarily whilst visiting the area. Largely a collection of low-rise hotels and an endless flow of coaches and RVs, plus a few streets of residential homes, probably to house all the hotel staff, Jasper serves as a pick-up and drop off point for the many tours to the mountains, lakes and glaciers in the area. We have been forewarned that all the local attractions will be busy by late morning tomorrow so we need to be on our mettle to avoid the crowds. Ok then ... 

And so we check in. Eventually. You remember the hiccough at our Whistler hotel, when we had to change rooms due to the lift noise? Well this time HRH was prepared. The cases stayed firmly in the car until he'd seen and audio tested the assigned room. Guess where it was. Yup, right next to the lift! We moved .... well, sort of. We returned to Reception. "Yes, of course sir, I could offer you room XYX. It's at the other end of the hotel and well away from the elevator". 

Off we go again. Still no suitcase. No lift noise either (yay) but a constant hum from a mysterious fan - sigh - so HRH goes off to investigate. A short while later the phone rings. 

"I found the source of the noise. We appear to be over the kitchen. It's the main extractor. I tracked it down, through a door, but locked myself out so am back at Reception. Can you come down? We're moving again". 

By now I'm feeling huge sympathies with hotel staff, Receptionists in particular (yes, that means former-you, Mim, especially) but realise it's the only option. We DO have to stay 2 nights and still-poorly HRH needs his sleep. Still, it all turned out OK in the end. 

Ha! Thank you very much. That will do nicely. Northern stars 3 and 4? Apparently that's now US!! :-)

I Need a 'Kaboom'

Funny how when the noise of one location can be invasive, so suddenly the utter silence of another can come as a shock to the system. The lakeside location of our B&B in Clearwater is so remote that hardly a sound can be heard from our room and for some reason that prevented me from getting off to sleep last night. Clearly I did nod off at some stage since I was woken in the early hours by the unmistakeable sound of ..... rain:-( Rain that persisted throughout breakfast, and only started to abate as we togged up to make what we could of our day in Clearwater. As it turned out we had a gentle, restful yet once again scenically different day without too much concern for the residual dampness in the air. 

On the advice of our hostess we set out to take in the 'highlights in a day' which found us first of all en route to Spahats Falls. After a short drive to a roadside carpark and a 2 minute walk there it was, in all its gushing furious glory, a 240ft high, 25ft wide waterfall cascading from a hole in the rock face. Most impressive. Spahats Creek was long known as Bear Creek before being officially changed. Spahats is the First Nation translation of bear. 

Equally impressive was the geological explanation of the forming of the falls, a three stage process over thousands of years starting with the repeated eruption of underground volcanos (the strata of lava can be clearly seen but not so clearly photographed), followed by an ice age that laid down a layer of frozen water over a kilometre deep on top, before the sheer weight and force of the ice carved the deep crevasse we see today as it began to thaw and move.

View from behind the falls clearly showing  the depth of the glacial crevasse, complete with low hanging cloud.

Next stop was a few kilometres further down the road. This time we were headed for Dawson Falls. Already we were beginning to think 'groundhog day?', another waterfall? Couldn't have been more surprised. This natural attraction is so very different from the previous one and, nicknamed 'Little Niagara' you can see how.

350 ft wide but at just 59ft high Dawson Falls crashes through the valley of the Murtle River over lava flows dating back 200,000 years.

What's more, the 10 minute stroll in each direction to reach these falls led us through thriving cedar woods with impressive specimens of immense size and signposts warning that we were very much in bear country. These tantalising mentions of bears were everywhere. The bears, sadly, were not.

See ... Impressive specimens. Like I said. 

Back to the car where our route now took us rather more 'off road'. That's to say, the 'road' carried on but the surface didn't. Ever the adventurous on we went. Next stop on the 'highlights' hand-drawn map was a spot called Bailey's Chute. We'd been told that this was the place to see salmon jumping. We didn't like to mention to our hostess that we'd already seen a mass of salmon swimming upriver in Ketchikan and figured it was worth a look anyway, it being on the Clearwater River, after which the local town is called. And how pleased we were that we did. Another quite different experience, here salmon easily 2 feet long hurtle themselves against the vast flow of roaring water supposedly to obey a primeval instinct. It's a strange instinct though, let me tell you, because not only do very few make it up the chute it turns out they were not even born there, but rather half a mile back downstream where the exhausted fish end up being swept back to having failed the leaping contest. Seems odd to me that they should feel the need to try in the first place since from birth until now they were unaware of the treacherous battleground just upstream. Bizarre .... but beautiful.

See dat fish? It's a foot out of the water and big enough to feed a family of fifteen.

One final stop for the day, Helmcken Falls. By now we had learned not to pre-judge and so drove willingly to what was described in the info-blurb as Number 3 in the list of "Wonders of the World You Never Hear About". Helmcken Falks are the 4th highest in Canada and this illustration will give you some idea of the scale.

So there we have it. A little gentle exercise walking to each of the hotspots, during which thankfully the majority of the water seen was, in the end, flowing, not falling and nothing too taxing to remember our day in the Wells Gray National Park.

What a shame, therefore, that we were still feeling deprived of the bear necessities of life. HRH too, having missed out on his orcas, was wistfully accepting of our destiny not to see the native teddies in the flesh and in the wild. Don't get me wrong, the waterfalls had been impressive but I had visions of this day's blog being something of a somewhat repetitive damp squib. I was craving a highlight, a 'kaboom' to finish on (yes, I know - probably being greedy). Nevertheless as we started our drive back to base I'd just been thinking of the old adage about how you wait for ages and then two come along at once and so, in trying to make us both feel better, threw this out as a suggestion, that maybe bears are like buses. 

"What," says HRH, "big and red?" Very funny. And so we were somewhat distracted when suddenly, whoosh. There, not 2 feet from my car door as we passed them at the side of the road, not one, or two but THREE black bears. 

By the time we had pulled over and quietly emerged from the car we were perhaps 50 feet beyond them (as luck would have it the recommended distance from these wild creatures, especially nursing mums). So there we have it - today's exclamation mark to finish an otherwise back to nature gentle sort of day! So chuffed.

Anti-Social Cow

Today was mostly about travelling. With 270 miles to cover before arriving in Clearwater, we were on the road at a reasonable time, destination numero uno, for a coffee stop, a small town with the colourful name of Lillooet. Our hope was that there would also be one of those (Lil' Loo-ette) - ha ha. You can see by this terrible joke that we have had to find ways to entertain ourselves during the several hours in the car. Not that the scenery isn't gorgeous, if not awe inspiring, but dare I say you get a tad complacent after a while. Such scenes of jaw-dropping beauty should never be taken for granted and sure enough, from time to time, as we would round a bend to be presented with yet another awe-inspiring view, the "Wow"s would still fall from our lips unheeded. And we did have a rather deep and meaningful conversation about the vast eons of time that have carved such wonders of nature, and how the vistas will have been formed, and changed, with the arrival and progression of ice ages, the influences of man, how brief our time is on earth etc (kinda deep for on holiday, eh?) but mostly we've been playing 'spot the ....'. More about that shortly. 

I must just note for posterity that if I appear, on our return home to be permanently leaning to the left at a 45 degree angle it's because I'm still (yes still) adjusting to being a passenger, on the right, when the winding roads are so often cut into the mountainside, and where I feel like I'm about to be tipped off the road, not just into the gutter but down a crevasse!! Not that I don't trust HRH at the wheel, but the poor love is full of cold, isn't sleeping too well and we all know that biology dictates that you close your eyes when you sneeze!! Oh, and maybe, just maybe, I'm a minor control freak and fancy getting my hands on that Chevy steering wheel. 

Back to 'SmallToilet'.  Funny place, in existence probably only by dint of it being approximately 2 hours out of Whistler, and halfway to somewhere else. It's a town of one street with the weirdest information centre I've ever encountered. Looked normal from the outside ...

... then we went IN. 

This info centre is more like a museum (actually, for 'museum' read junk yard). To get past the guardian you must pop a donation into the jar, hand over your bag, then step in not yet knowing that what's to be found is a collection of someone previously inhabiting this place's stuff. Very old stuff. But not very nice. Truth. Sorry. 

Having quickly escaped I learnt more about Lillooet from the info boards outside, for example ...

1. The town's golf course is in a sheep paddock - so watch your step.

2. The newspaper editor in the gold rush era was a feisty woman, known to everyone as 'Ma'. 

3. To cross the river you have to use the 'Bridge of 23 Camels'

4. Jade has been found in the river ... (not sure what she was doing there in the first place - boom boom).

That's as much as I retained (or could be bothered to read) before heading off in search of the town's namesake. We did also follow a recommendation to buy a local delicacy, a cinnamon roll which, as a particularly special specialness is 'stuffed with raspberries'. I'm not sure you can count 2 raspberries as 'stuffed' but it was OK and got demolished along with a coffee before we drove on.

The next stage was sadly rather less enjoyable. The scenery changed quite dramatically. The lush pine-clad mountains gave way to dry, sandy-looking crags with sparsely flourishing vegetation. Interesting geology, but not as impactful to look at, so we popped HRH's new birthday CDs into the music system and ate up a few miles accompanied by E. Clapton Esq and The Lumineers (separately, not together - that would be weird). 

A not very good shot, taken through the car window at some speed, of crevassy sandy, irony-looking hillsides.

Some miles on, having dropped now into the valley bottom and as the vistas changed again (and having fully expected not to find nice places to shop) we pulled into a rest area by a lake at a convenient moment for our pre-prepared picnic (I was not a girl guide for nothing, you know). Lunch was nice, and was also when our 'spot the ..' game really got going. 

Lunch anyone?

Until this point we hadn't been fortunate enough to see either a bear at reasonably close quarters, or a caribou, or a moose so these were now top of the list. And certainly, as we moved north and into an area known for its lakes and creeks we felt we stood a reasonable chance. HRH was first to score. He got a caribou. When I say 'got' I don't mean he shot one, or ran it over, but he saw it spring across the road before I did. He also reckoned he scored again but I maintain he cheated by asking me something about the route which required map consultation just before Caribou II made an appearance (yeah, right). Anyway, I still reckon I win. It was the anti-social cow that did it*. We were still laughing about my sighting when we arrived at The Lake House in Clearwater (which is in a gorgeous setting, by a lake. Funny that). 

Tomorrow we may take tea at the end of the jetty as the sun rises - if the midges don't get me. 

*

Me (excitedly): "Look. Down there. There's a black thing by the water". 

HRH: "Where?" as we drove past. 

Me: "There was a thing, a big thing, black, with long legs, down by the water. Wasn't a bear. I'm sure. It's legs were too long". 

HRH: "Well how big was it?"

Me: "Hard to say. About the size of a cow, but black, or dark anyway" (by now my recollection of the thing is fading)

HRH: "Sounds like a cow to me"

Me: "No. Cows aren't wild. They're farm animals. They live in herds. Not on their own anyway. This one was on its own".

HRH: "So maybe it was a cow but with poor social skills". We laughed. Anti-social cow! 

I maintain he was trying to deflect any possibility that I may just have seen a moose :-) Or it could have been a tree stump .... Who knows. Back to the drawing board tomorrow. 

X-Rated Stuff

Goodness me. What a day. A day that we gave a 'triple-brilliant' rating. Which is saying something after our initial reaction on arriving yesterday late afternoon. 

The route from Horsehoe Bay had been uneventful and within an hour and a half of landing back on the mainland we were pulling into Main Street, Whistler. So far, so good. Hotel seemed nice. Room pleasant enough, but as we were keen to explore we weren't in it for long, and then the weirdness set in. Stepping outside the hotel and following signs towards the village centre we both went into a mild state of shock. It's difficult to describe how two people can be imagining the same thing about a place and how when that place is SO NOT what you expected how utterly cheated and deflated you feel, together. Quite why we had expected alpine chalets, quaint streets and a sense of calm emanating from the mountains I'm not sure. The reality of Whistler (and I say this after a fabulous day so it's ok to sound a little critical 'cos it knows we love it really) is like Centre-Parcs-Does-Disney-without-the-Mouse-Ears,-on-Speed!  All accommodation is of the hotel ilk, large efficient modern ones, the 'streets' are all pedestrianised, the bridges, water features, monuments all seem manufactured in a way that feels vaguely fake and everywhere you turn there are shops, and more shops (these often sports outlets for enthusiastic young things), and a racket!!! From the bars, from the restaurants, from the crowds! This is party central. A buzzing and vibrant hugely popular resort geared up entirely to skiing in winter and hiking or mountain biking in summer. So why were we disappointed? Actually I think we were just tired and having to chuck out the imaginings to make space for reality. That's ok (or at least it was by today). Dinner was overdue, overpriced, and very quickly ... over. Back to our pleasant room with a vague plan to find a walking route for our full remaining day in Whistler that found nature and lost some of the crowds. 

And then the lift happened. And happened, and happened again. Now as you may know I have a canny way to block out unwanted noises. It's called my right ear. It's not as clever as it should be, but moderate hearing loss on one side affords rest even when the world tries hard to get in. HRH doesn't have a right ear. Or at least he does - but it, along with its non-identical twin, are too clever for their own good and so our room, adjacent to the lift-shaft, was quickly declared a no-stay zone. Bugger. There am I, tired and somewhat disillusioned, when talk of moving rooms starts up. No. Not having that. "Here - try these...."

This morning, the sun was shining, I woke feeling rested and ready to face Whistler. Having just about survived the night thanks to a pair of airline earplugs I happened to have in my wash bag (safety precaution against mega-snoring), HRH was not giving up on a room swap. And to give him his due, despite the fidget to pack up and move, we totally landed on our feet. All four of them. Free upgrade, huge suite, separate sitting room, fully equipped kitchenette, dishwasher and, best of all, washing machine and tumble dryer, and all without so much as a raised voice or a whine. Suddenly, somehow, the clouds lifted and we had a PLAN. Now, instead of a stroll round the lakes that lie all around the town, we were headed UP the mountains for a full day in the sunshine before a spot of self-catering, chilled wine, a movie or a good book, no crowds and clean clothes! 

And so here comes the apology. Sorry Whistler, we may have misjudged you. We love you really, and thank you for what has turned into a triple-X-rated day. Three kisses from us, one for each of the 'brilliant's we used to descibe the feeling of soaring high above the landscape on open chair lifts to stunning alpine views from the peaks, huge lungs full of clean, clear air and just enough of a stretch to the legs without having worn ourselves out again. 

The one-day ski-lift passes actually enabled us to use all of the options in the area and, following a tip to avoid the crowds we set off first to climb aboard the Wizard Express up to Blackcomb Peak.

Took this for Jess really. Thought she might like the idea of us riding the Wizard Express.

One coming down as we head on up...

Wheeee....

Next we transferred to the Solar Coaster Express to complete the ascent ...

Here's the whole network, for an overview.

View of lake and huge expanse of mountains from the top of Blackcomb .... plus the helipad. That impressed HRH. 

Here we opted to take a one-hour circular walk, during which we encountered almost tame (for this read 'used to people feeding them') Clark's Nutcracker birds, which sat so still in the trees that having stopped to take this close-up I got spooked into dropping my phone into the dust when the ruddy thing landed on me!! 

Took this for you, Lynne :-) Never again ... Sorry.

Back to the lift-head next to board the Peak-to-Peak, the longest unsupported cable car ride in the world, in total over 2.73 miles, travelling 25 feet per second and taking 11 minutes to cross the ravine. The Fitzsimmons Hydro project in the valley beneath generates enough power to run the towns of Whistler and Blackcomb all year round! It was thrilling.

And so to arrive at Roundhouse Lodge. Here one set of Olympic Rings can be found, along with a huge restaurant/cafe/sun deck that you can imagine heaving with skiers in winter but was today a swarm of hikers of all ages, shapes and sizes and brave mountain bikers keen to launch themselves downhill. One couldn't help but get caught up in the buzz. It was so beautiful, hot, sunny, and special that I Facetimed my Mum ... because it's nice to share. 

Final thrill, quick walk to the base of Peak  Express to access the summit of Whistler Mountain where we took pics of us, on 'top of the world' ... because we were. 

At this point we chose different routes back down the mountain - me on the gondolas with time at the bottom to read in the sun, and HRH to descend on foot. And the best thing? We both thought we chose the better way - so that's perfect! 

Supper, laundry, movie now done. 

Another book finished. What a great day.  Bed awaits. Moving on again tomorrow. More adventures? Perhaps ....

Struck gold today. Thank you Whistler.