Hi Gram!
My last day in Whistler was just as wonderful as the previous two. Getting up early and hitting the lifts before the crowd showed up worked for me on Wednesday, so I decided to try it again. When I went to bed, every muscle in my body was aching and I was just plum tired. I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to get up in the morning, but there I was, staring at my clock at 5:56, just daring my alarm to go off and start the day. I decided the best option was just to get out of bed right away and let the creaks and groans from my muscles and bones do their thing. The strangest thing, though, nothing was creaking and there wasn’t a groan to be heard! I felt like a new man, ready to hit the slopes. (Well, in complete honesty, I was a little sore and I felt like a slightly pre-owned, but decently maintained man – “new” would be stretching the truth.)
I ate the rest of my delicious yogurt, downed some water, got dressed and headed for the slopes. As I stepped outside, the world had returned to the gray and gloom that I’d encountered when I first arrived. There was a nip in the air, but it was a moderate cold, and there weren’t nearly as many people walking through the village as I’d seen the day before. I got to the lifts at 8:30, which were already open and running, and walked right up and got on a gondola with no wait. They were packing us in like sardines this time, eight to a car whereas I had been seen five or six to a car the past two days. Everybody in my car seems to have showered and woken up, and we traded stories of where we were from, how much we enjoyed the blue skies yesterday, and advice on where to eat lunch. One guy gave me some advice on what to see in Vancouver later that day (although a few hours wasn’t going to be nearly enough time, of course), and we all commiserated about one lady’s daughter never wanting to wear her hat, then complaining about cold ears. While we were sharing stories, it got a little brighter as we climbed the mountain, and next thing we knew, the sun was shining and we were above the clouds. After unloading from the gondola, I walked out of the roundhouse onto the mountain and felt the sun on my face. I looked around and saw the most beautiful sight – the far off peaks were poking through the clouds, casting shadows across the white blanket, snow glistening on the mountains, with a random person wandering past to get their run started.
I strapped on my board and started down the run. With so few people up so early, I had the freshly groomed runs all to myself. The grooming tractors leave a path of corduroy in their wake which, next to fresh powder, is one of my favorite rides. When the snow is hard packed and icy, the board just scrapes over it as it tries to bite in to get some grip. When a lot of people have already ridden on powder or freshly groomed snow, it gets bumpy and harder on your knees. When the weather is too warm, the snow gets grippy and can catch the board or slow you down. When the weather is just below freezing, though, and the skies dumped fresh powder the day before, and the tractors have pulled the groomers across it leaving fresh corduroy? That’s like riding on a sheet of butter; soft with just enough give, smooth with just enough grip, ripples with just enough feedback. I sashayed from my toe edge to my heel, back and forth, meandering down the run as I listened to some of my favorite songs in my earphones, watching the trees stream past, catching a glimpse of a summit peaking through the clouds below me, following the curves of the path before me.
About three quarters of the way down, I sank into the cloud layer, still happy as can be. I had seen maybe two or three others on the entire run so far, amazed to have such a peaceful, smooth, ever changing path all to myself. I passed the gondola mid-point and realized I would be coming to the end of my trip soon. I cut my swaths wider and wider, trying to squeeze every last inch of the experience out of this last run. Finally, I rounded the final curve and settled down into the village. The line had grown longer to get on the gondola, there were more people milling about, and as so many people were just starting their day, I unstrapped myself from the board, tucked it under my arm, and headed back to my room to pack up and check out.
I finished off my last pastry and bottle of water, packed up my snow gear and dirty clothes, made one last pass around the room to make sure I wasn’t forgetting anything, and headed out the door. After dropping my gear in the car, I made one last pass through the village, picking up some hard-to-find leggings for a friend from one of the boutiques, grabbed some snacks and a drink from the grocery store, took a few more pictures, and plotted my drive down to Vancouver.
On my way north just a couple days ago, the fog and drizzle gave the scenery a foreboding look, like something you would expect in a mystery novel or film noir – hills looming in the distance, silhouettes of ships barely visible through the fog. My drive south toward Vancouver painted a completely different picture. Now, the mountains and crevasses had definition, lush vegetation hugged the road and climbed the surrounding hills. The ships came alive painting a scene of industry and men out making a living. Halfway down the winding roads, I realized that I had been stopping at every lookout point and admiring the picturesque scenery all around me. I decided I had to keep moving and only stop if the lookout point presented something truly amazing, or I’d spend the whole day starting and stopping and never get to Vancouver.
After a bit more driving, I crossed a giant bridge onto the island and left the highway to enter Stanley Park. When I was riding the gondola up the mountain that morning looking for suggestions, the group agreed that I should check out the sea wall at Stanley Park. I stopped into the visitors center first, got some reading material, then found my way through the park to a place called “third beach.” I parked the car, and walked down a path until I came upon a pedestrian path along the sea wall. From there, I could see the bridge I had just crossed above me, some ships out on the water, and some houses and commercial buildings climbing the hillside on the other side of the water.
I started walking along the path, hoping they were right, but doubting that I’d get all the way around in the time I had available. I passed smiling people strolling in the opposite direction, bicyclists doing laps, was passed by joggers, and saw young lovers walking hand in hand, older folks resting on benches, mothers pushing strollers, and teens horsing around. To my left, vegetation climbed the hill into obscurity while the sea wall dropped a few feet to boulders and tree trunks that had washed ashore, low tide exposing ten to twenty feet of gravel, sand, and pebbles. The path curved around to show another beach, a pool (empty on this frigid winter day), and eventually exposed the downtown area. Eventually, lost in my thoughts, I realized I had wandered out of the park and was starting into the urban area. I checked the time and decided I’d better start heading back, having gotten about 1/3 of the way around the park. I turned around and followed the same path in reverse, crossing paths with many of the same people, who had apparently also reversed course and were heading home. I walked a little past where I first entered the path, and followed an ascending footpath in a circuitous route back to the car.
Needing an oil change, I found my way to one of those oil change garages. They made quick work of the job, and I saw a car wash to my left. The car was dirty, so I asked how I get there, and was told I had to exit to the right and loop around. I looped around to the car wash, and cleaned off some of the dirt that had caked up over the past few days. As I was leaving, I saw a barber shop to my left. I looped around to the right again, and looked down the road to see if there were any other services I needed, determined to stop looping the block! A hair cut was the last thing on my list, so I stopped in there and found a seat in the barbers chair. It didn’t take her long to buzz my head back to almost bald, and I left that area with me and my car feeling clean, tuned, and ready to go.
I made my way back across the US/Canadian border effortlessly, other than having to deal with a condescending grizzled border guard who tried to rattle me off my game to see if I was trying to smuggle anything across the border. After realizing I was just an average guy crossing the border for average reasons, he let me go on my way. I drove to Bellingham, WA where a good friend lives. We’ve known each other for over 15 years, having started skydiving together back in the early 2000’s. She’s married to a great guy now, and we spent the night catching up on our lives, telling stories from our skydiving experiences, and figuring out who’s still around that we started with. The scenery and experiences on this road trip have been so memorable and breath-taking, but seeing friends that I haven’t seen in years and catching up with family and friends has been the highlight of this trip. We were all exhausted after a long day, so we said our goodbyes and I made my way back to Tom’s house a little after midnight.
My alarm couldn’t rouse me from my sleep this morning, and I spent most of the day just lazing around, catching up on some laundry, and catching up on some phone calls and paperwork. This evening, I went to dinner with some friends from Skydive Chicago who live in Ottawa, and a skydiver friend who moved out to the Seattle area a few years ago, plus I met his wife and son.
Again, we all caught up on old times, enjoyed the amazing food, had fun watching the kids try new dishes, and shared some laughter. It was a wonderful way to end the day, and I’m looking forward to getting to bed and catching up on some of the sleep I’ve been depriving myself of the last few days. Tomorrow, I’m headed down to the Space Needle with Tom, Elizabeth, and the kids for another action-packed day!