30 vi 06: Whistler to Vancouver
My visit to Whistler was one of the high points of my travel through Canada. Several points contributed to that. First, Whistler is stunning. It is a group of villages set in a gorgeous mountain valley. Part of me wants to complain that these communities are so well-manicured as to seem plastic. And they are. And they do. And I still found Whistler stunning.
Whistler is basically a ski resort, and yet for the adventuresome there is no lack of activities in the summer: when we arrived, some of the ski slopes had been converted for mountain biking with huge mounds of earth built into ramps from which riders were launching themselves what seemed to me hundreds of feet into the air. As a protection against road rash -- and spinal injuries -- these riders were wearing quilted body suits, plated plastic armour, and, of course helmets. They looked as though they must be very, very hot; they also looked as though they should be actors in a science-fiction movie. But I think they were enjoying themselves.
Second, the hostel at which we stayed, although it was not particularly more expensive than the HIs in Vancouver or Victoria, was, by hostelling standards, downright posh. I shared a room with Steve: he had a single bed, and I had the lower of a bunk. We had between us a private full bath -- indeed, each of the rooms had a private full bath, as we discovered, and some had closets! The floors had plush new carpetting, and because everyone was to take off her or his shoes on entering, we could really luxuriate in this. Basically, this hostel was a private home converted for public use, and so it had a large living room which was cozy and home-like with sofas and coffee tables, and a large dining room with a big farmhouse style table and sideboards with dishes. The kitchen was also large, brightly-lit, newly-furnished with several commercial-size refrigerators, nice stainless-steel sinks, and composite counters. A large deck on the front of the house looked out towards Alta Lake and a smaller deck at the rear backed into the rocky, flower-grown hillside. Below this deck it seems was concealed a hot-tub (which I only heard about on the way back to Vancouver).
Third, I fell in love there. Oh, it was infatuation, but it was a thrill. After walking to Alta Lake on the evening of the 29th before dinner with some others from the tour, I took a quick swim in the weedy lake, and then when I returned to where we had stashed our towels and backpacks, I found an unfamiliar woman had joined our party. She was also staying at the hostel, but had arrived some days earlier and was staying to enjoy the mountain biking and running. She had also been swimming, and was drying in the sun on the little lawn between the shore and the boat-access road. She had a lovely tan, was obviously athletic, and spoke quietly with an attractive English Lake-District accent -- and yes, that is the order in which I observed these points.
I dried my hair with my towel and was preparing to go back to the hostel. She asked me what I was doing in my travels, and I gave what had become a kind of standard litany by that point: I have been sent by the College for which I work to study here and I plan to make a book narrating my travels. Well, she said, Why don't you sit down and say a little bit more about that? So I did.
But I had been preparing myself for a moment such as this, and I had learned a bit from my travels already. I did not want to be too focused on myself, and turned the conversation as much as possible to her background and her travels. This was very pleasant for me, as she had the sort of voice that hits a certain note or quality so that one's spine tingles to hear it. An hour and a half after I had planned to return to the hostel, one of the women in our tour group came to say that dinner was ready. My new acquaintance and I got up -- everyone else had already returned -- she went off to talk with some folks at the jetty and I went back to the hostel.
After dinner we met again and sat on the deck and in the living room and talked until dark, when Des, my driver - tour guide, led an expedition to Moe Joe's, which he apparently thought was an experience not to be missed. I didn't care for the experience, and furthermore hoped to meet my new acquaintance again before she retired for the night, and so I set off from Whistler in the dark, alone, and promptly became lost.
The paths in Whistler are wide, paved, and smooth. They are also dark. To the south in the night sky is a glow which I guess must be metropolitan Vancouver, but for the most part, the stars on a clear night are very bright. The trees are thick and beneath them is little underbrush, but along the creeks and in the deep shade under the trees a traveller at night hears grunting and snuffling, which might be the water rushing over the stones, or perhaps very large skunks. When later I described the sounds I heard to a native of the area, he said one word: "Bears."
On the 30th I rose early with the hope of catching A---- at breakfast, which I did: we talked for an hour or so and then she announced that she was planning to go for a run around Alta Lake. I thought perhaps I might meet her in her circuit if I went out walking. Once again, I quickly became lost on the trails around the lakes, and saw far more of the area than I had expected. About 1:30 I returned from my three-hour odyssey, and talked with A---- on the deck for about an hour and a half, at which point Erika, the hostel manager, invited her to go along on a shopping trip to prepare for a birthday party to be held that evening at the hostel. As it seemed like this might be the last we would see each other, we parted with a hug; but in fact the Moose Tour bus was delayed in its setting out for Vancouver and so we were only just boarding when Erika and A---- returned. So, very quickly, we said good-bye again, I jumped into the bus, and off we went, me hardly caring about anything else we saw that day.
Raw notes from my journal:
Checked e-mails until 1
6:45 up -- packed, downloaded photos from CF cards
10:45 off for a walk around Alta Lake
12:11 at Kagenwood Dr & Cheakamus beyond Whistler Creek(side) -- I think far SOUTH of where I want to be in residential community
Turning around & hope for better direction!
12:26 coming back into Whistler Creekside
The mountains express a tremendous permanency and solidity -- one can walk for hours and still one's relationship to the mountains remains relatively constant
How are the Appalachians like and unlike the Coastal Range?
Now I've found a roadsign I should have noticed an hour ago pointing to Whistler Village.
12:30 turning on to hiking trail beside creek at Whistler Creekside
12:42 at bridge N at forking of trail [?illegible: cross?] creek at Whistler Creek
Alpha LK park 1.5 km Whistler Ck 1 km > Whistler Village
1:04 readjusting pack; now off to Whistler Village
[A--- M----'s e-mail, written in her hand; notes on conversation with her:]
Delayed Onset Muscle fatigue syndrome DOMF
Plateau after 8-12 weeks, have to change the routine slightly every 8 weeks rotate
3:45 In Whistler Village picking up folks there -- now on to [unfinished; A---'s parting words:]
I want to hold you but I have these parcels...
[New travellers on the Moose bus:]
Kate from Melbourne
Tamara and Luke from Canberra
Ruth from London
4:35 Brandywine Falls "optical illusion" of cliffs moving
4:52 leaving BRANDYWINE
5:10 Tantalus Range Lookout
5:39 Brittania Beach 56 million tons of copper came out of the mine here until 1971 largest copper mine in the Empire
6:13 leave
9:00 arrive Hostel [Jericho Beach again] -- to grocery - back 10 pm
Whistler is basically a ski resort, and yet for the adventuresome there is no lack of activities in the summer: when we arrived, some of the ski slopes had been converted for mountain biking with huge mounds of earth built into ramps from which riders were launching themselves what seemed to me hundreds of feet into the air. As a protection against road rash -- and spinal injuries -- these riders were wearing quilted body suits, plated plastic armour, and, of course helmets. They looked as though they must be very, very hot; they also looked as though they should be actors in a science-fiction movie. But I think they were enjoying themselves.
Second, the hostel at which we stayed, although it was not particularly more expensive than the HIs in Vancouver or Victoria, was, by hostelling standards, downright posh. I shared a room with Steve: he had a single bed, and I had the lower of a bunk. We had between us a private full bath -- indeed, each of the rooms had a private full bath, as we discovered, and some had closets! The floors had plush new carpetting, and because everyone was to take off her or his shoes on entering, we could really luxuriate in this. Basically, this hostel was a private home converted for public use, and so it had a large living room which was cozy and home-like with sofas and coffee tables, and a large dining room with a big farmhouse style table and sideboards with dishes. The kitchen was also large, brightly-lit, newly-furnished with several commercial-size refrigerators, nice stainless-steel sinks, and composite counters. A large deck on the front of the house looked out towards Alta Lake and a smaller deck at the rear backed into the rocky, flower-grown hillside. Below this deck it seems was concealed a hot-tub (which I only heard about on the way back to Vancouver).
Third, I fell in love there. Oh, it was infatuation, but it was a thrill. After walking to Alta Lake on the evening of the 29th before dinner with some others from the tour, I took a quick swim in the weedy lake, and then when I returned to where we had stashed our towels and backpacks, I found an unfamiliar woman had joined our party. She was also staying at the hostel, but had arrived some days earlier and was staying to enjoy the mountain biking and running. She had also been swimming, and was drying in the sun on the little lawn between the shore and the boat-access road. She had a lovely tan, was obviously athletic, and spoke quietly with an attractive English Lake-District accent -- and yes, that is the order in which I observed these points.
I dried my hair with my towel and was preparing to go back to the hostel. She asked me what I was doing in my travels, and I gave what had become a kind of standard litany by that point: I have been sent by the College for which I work to study here and I plan to make a book narrating my travels. Well, she said, Why don't you sit down and say a little bit more about that? So I did.
But I had been preparing myself for a moment such as this, and I had learned a bit from my travels already. I did not want to be too focused on myself, and turned the conversation as much as possible to her background and her travels. This was very pleasant for me, as she had the sort of voice that hits a certain note or quality so that one's spine tingles to hear it. An hour and a half after I had planned to return to the hostel, one of the women in our tour group came to say that dinner was ready. My new acquaintance and I got up -- everyone else had already returned -- she went off to talk with some folks at the jetty and I went back to the hostel.
After dinner we met again and sat on the deck and in the living room and talked until dark, when Des, my driver - tour guide, led an expedition to Moe Joe's, which he apparently thought was an experience not to be missed. I didn't care for the experience, and furthermore hoped to meet my new acquaintance again before she retired for the night, and so I set off from Whistler in the dark, alone, and promptly became lost.
The paths in Whistler are wide, paved, and smooth. They are also dark. To the south in the night sky is a glow which I guess must be metropolitan Vancouver, but for the most part, the stars on a clear night are very bright. The trees are thick and beneath them is little underbrush, but along the creeks and in the deep shade under the trees a traveller at night hears grunting and snuffling, which might be the water rushing over the stones, or perhaps very large skunks. When later I described the sounds I heard to a native of the area, he said one word: "Bears."
On the 30th I rose early with the hope of catching A---- at breakfast, which I did: we talked for an hour or so and then she announced that she was planning to go for a run around Alta Lake. I thought perhaps I might meet her in her circuit if I went out walking. Once again, I quickly became lost on the trails around the lakes, and saw far more of the area than I had expected. About 1:30 I returned from my three-hour odyssey, and talked with A---- on the deck for about an hour and a half, at which point Erika, the hostel manager, invited her to go along on a shopping trip to prepare for a birthday party to be held that evening at the hostel. As it seemed like this might be the last we would see each other, we parted with a hug; but in fact the Moose Tour bus was delayed in its setting out for Vancouver and so we were only just boarding when Erika and A---- returned. So, very quickly, we said good-bye again, I jumped into the bus, and off we went, me hardly caring about anything else we saw that day.
Raw notes from my journal:
Checked e-mails until 1
6:45 up -- packed, downloaded photos from CF cards
10:45 off for a walk around Alta Lake
12:11 at Kagenwood Dr & Cheakamus beyond Whistler Creek(side) -- I think far SOUTH of where I want to be in residential community
Turning around & hope for better direction!
12:26 coming back into Whistler Creekside
The mountains express a tremendous permanency and solidity -- one can walk for hours and still one's relationship to the mountains remains relatively constant
How are the Appalachians like and unlike the Coastal Range?
Now I've found a roadsign I should have noticed an hour ago pointing to Whistler Village.
12:30 turning on to hiking trail beside creek at Whistler Creekside
12:42 at bridge N at forking of trail [?illegible: cross?] creek at Whistler Creek
Alpha LK park 1.5 km Whistler Ck 1 km > Whistler Village
1:04 readjusting pack; now off to Whistler Village
[A--- M----'s e-mail, written in her hand; notes on conversation with her:]
Delayed Onset Muscle fatigue syndrome DOMF
Plateau after 8-12 weeks, have to change the routine slightly every 8 weeks rotate
3:45 In Whistler Village picking up folks there -- now on to [unfinished; A---'s parting words:]
I want to hold you but I have these parcels...
[New travellers on the Moose bus:]
Kate from Melbourne
Tamara and Luke from Canberra
Ruth from London
4:35 Brandywine Falls "optical illusion" of cliffs moving
4:52 leaving BRANDYWINE
5:10 Tantalus Range Lookout
5:39 Brittania Beach 56 million tons of copper came out of the mine here until 1971 largest copper mine in the Empire
6:13 leave
9:00 arrive Hostel [Jericho Beach again] -- to grocery - back 10 pm
posted by M E Achtermann at 5:43 pm
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