Squamish & Whistler, BC (Part 1 of 2)
A Sea-to-Sky Bonanza
On the to-do list for the day: a ferry ride from Departure Bay in Nanaimo to Horseshoe Bay in Vancouver.
By now, we were pros. We would like to think we looked cool while driving into the ferry terminal and smartly whipping out our reservation code. Well, maybe not so cool, since the BC Ferries official got a stick to measure not only the length but also the height of our van. We drove into Deck 2, turned off the engine, and pulled the emergency brake. The ferry ride offered another lovely view of the coastline and, as we approached land, we got a good look at Vancouver. The city would have to wait, though: we were headed to the mountains near Whistler.
We settled in our camp site at the Alice Lake Provincial Park, near the town of Squamish. I was cutting up a rotisserie chicken — something always seemed to happen when I had a chicken in my hands — when I suddenly heard someone yell, “Bear! Bear! Big one!” Around us people suddenly got busy gathering their things and getting into their cars. Although I didn’t see the aforementioned animal, I had to wonder if the roasted chicken had attracted the hungry beast. Just in case, I closed the van’s doors.
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The weather forecast for our stay in the area was a bummer: we would be rain-free for only three days of the week we were here. That was the only plausible reason I can think of for the frantic pace of our activities today.
So to Cheakamus Lake Trail in Whistler we go (out-and-back, 4.8 miles). People on trail apps provide helpful updates of the conditions of the trails, but someone really needed to provide unvarnished truths about the trails to the trailheads. The Forestry Service Road (a generic term in Canada, I learned) was almost 7 kilometers — about 5 miles — of unpaved, graveled, rocky, pitted, bumpy road that our little van faced bravely. Everything not actually riveted and glued to the interior of the van shifted, groaned and moaned in protest.
The trail itself meandered through redwood trees, interrupted from time to time by melting snow that led to rivulets that made their way into the Cheakamus River. We arrived at Cheakamus Lake — no mirror reflections today — and found a mossy bank for a quick picnic of chicken, crackers, and oranges & strawberries. I felt rushed to hoover the meal because a sign by the lake informed hikers that there was an aggressive bear in the vicinity, leading to the closing of the nearby campgrounds for overnight use. Supposedly, day use was fine, although there were no guarantees that the bear wouldn’t suddenly catch whiff of roast chicken and wake up. In my infinite caution, I was of the opinion BC Parks should have closed the trail completely.
Whatever guarded sense of tranquility we had gained while admiring the lake was lost during the bumpy ride out of the trailhead. Inexplicably, we saw quite a few bikers on that bumpy road; explicably, they were going much faster than we. I promised myself never to take paved roads for granted again. As an apology to the van, we took it out for a car wash afterwards. After the car wash, we stopped for the first time by a Tim Hortons; I didn’t feel the need to ever enter another Tim Hortons again.
Despite the lateness of the afternoon, we hopped on the Sea to Sky Gondola in Squamish. A notice in the admission ticket stipulated that,
“As a condition of use of the Sea to Sky Gondola and all other related facilities and services, […], the ticket holder assumes all risks of personal injury, death or property loss resulting from any cause whatsoever including but not limited to: the risks, dangers and hazards of hiking, sightseeing, backcountry skiing and snowboarding, nordic skiing, snowshoeing, mountain biking, rock climbing, mountaineering, backcountry travel, ice climbing, tobogganing, sledding, tubing and other recreational activities; use of the suspension bridge, viewing platforms and trails, embarking and disembarking from the gondola; slips, trips and falls; collision or impact with natural or man-made objects or with other persons; encounters with animals including cougars and bears; and negligence, breach of contract, or breach of statutory duty of care on the part of Sea to Sky Gondola Limited Partnership and its associated companies and subsidiaries and their respective employees, instructors, guides…”
Translation from legalese into English: if we died because of a cougar attack or because of a slip from the gondola or even because of their negligence (!), it would be our fault. Caveat Emptor.
Reading this liability notice, we remembered a couple we ran into in Tofino who mentioned two facts to us: #1 the views from the top were awesome; #2 someone had cut the cables — twice — and the authorities had not found the culprit yet. Not a comforting thought, but at least the liability exclusion did not mention criminal acts, so if that were the case, could we sue then?
The way up was much longer and much higher than we had expected. From the viewing platforms on top of the mountain, we were able to get a bald eagle’s view of the area: snow-capped mountains in almost every direction and the town of Squamish sitting at the spot where the river opened into the harbor. There were quite a few trails that were accessible from the top, but because the gondolas would magically stop running at 6 pm, we speed-walked the Panorama Trail (loop, 0.9 mile) to sneak some views of the Stawamus Chief mountains.
By this time we got back, the workers at the restaurant, gift shop, and gondola — who were already finished with cleaning tables, stacking chairs, and putting up “Closed” signs — were patiently waiting for the last straggling tourists to get the heck down the mountain so they could go home. We took one of the last gondolas down at 5:50 pm.
(By the way, someone in this area hired a marketing company whose advice was for unified, consistent messaging. Besides the Sea-to-Sky Gondola, there were the Sea-to-Sky Highway, Sea-to-Sky beer, Sea-to-Sky Trail, and even a Sea-to-Sky School.)
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At dinner time in the campground, someone again yelled, “Bear! Bear!” Cautious but curious, I ran towards the direction of the guy pointing and scrambling for his phone to call the bear patrol (posted signs listed a phone number to call in case of bear sightings). Through the trees, I saw a dark little figure crouching around and quickly running away. Interestingly, as soon as the kids around the area heard the bear warning, they all started running or biking in the direction of the outnumbered bear. A couple of parents ran after their kids, muttering,
“That poor bear has no chance against those kids…”
Indeed, the most dangerous predator was human beings.
After dinner, we decided to walk to Alice Lake to take a look at the namesake for our campground. We were surprised by the very nice view from the lake — it even had a sliver of a snow-capped mountain at the end. N. ended up with a better picture of a “lake with a mirror reflection” than he got at Cheakamus Lake. He was a bit grumpy about that.
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Depending on the way a campground was set up, we could easily be amused by the goings-ons around us.
This morning, a child was having a massive meltdown, crying out, “Ouwie, ouwie, ouwie… Awwwwww!” for what felt like 10 minutes. I relished the extra effort he was putting into his extra syllables, but I felt for the poor mother who seemed to be taking it in stride and waiting for the kid to just tire himself out.
On the site next to us, a trio of friends had cracked open their beers — it was 12:40 pm after all — and started belching. With his hands occupied with a phone and a beer can, one guy suddenly wanted to take a selfie, so he had to try voice commands multiple times — “Hey Siri, take a picture!”; “Hey Google, take a selfie!” — before the phone finally acquiesced to his commands.
After lunch, we headed to the Brandywine Trail (out-and-back, 4 miles), crowded with tourists only during the first half-mile to the waterfall. The trail beyond was quieter but, although it led to some good mountain views, the sight of power lines running through the area detracted from the natural vibe. We eventually reached the spot in the Cheakamus River where the Whistler Bungee was allowing adrenaline junkies to jump off the bridge for a pretty penny. I was tempted for a little while, but N. dissuaded me: he said the views were not worth a jump. So maybe next time.
After dinner in downtown Whistler, I finally succeed in finding that special photo spot for N.: we drove to the Green Lake Viewpoint, off the Sea-to-Sky Highway, and he finally got his “lake with a mirror reflection of snow-covered mountains” picture.
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