British Columbia is wicked awesome

Derek and I seem to be starting a trend whereby every few years we go on a cool outdoors trip. Call it soul therapy, call it dude time, call it whatever. But, no matter what you call it, its been pretty stinking fun. Last time it was Moab, Utah, this time it was Northern Washington and British Columbia.

And let me just tell you: I totally want to live there. I just can't say enough good things about it. The people were great (albeit a little "Canadian"), the weather was amazing, and the scenery, well, the scenery kinda puts the Smokies in perspective.

We started in by flying into Seattle - ticks to Vancouver were a little rich for out blood. Due to some ingenious research (ie, mostly luck), we were able to procure a very cheap 5-day rental of a Ford Explorer 4x4, which made the trip spacious and relaxing.

On day one, we headed straight to the Cascades, where we planned an awesome 3 mile, 2500 vertical-foot hike on the Skyline Ridge overlooking Washington's Mt. Baker and surrounding foothills (and I use that word lightly). Unfortunately, the traffic in Seattle and the crazy-eyed lady at the car rental place made our hike in that night a little rushed, and we had to finish at night. Thank goodness for Derek's headlamps. The hike up was like walking through the forest on Endor. That night we dined on absolutely disgusting combinations of Raman noodles and camped in the absolute wilderness. We weren't worried about bears if for no other reason that the leftover Raman noodles would probably be mistaken for battery acid before it was food. In the end, it may be a guess, but I would estimate that there wasn't a living human being for at least 15 miles in any direction from where we were. Awesome.

We woke up that morning to sleet, snow and freezing rain. The amazing view promised at the trailhead had been replaced with clouds preventing visibility beyond around 100 feet (or should I say, like, 33 meters, since we were in Canada). The hike down provided a pretty neat view of snow in the wilderness though. All I'll say is thank goodness for my new waterproof hiking boots.

From there, we headed straight to the Canadian border, eager to test my negotiation skills with the border-crossing agent since Derek only had a driver's license to get across (no passport). After a mild rebuke from the agent, we were across. The skies immediately opened and the sun came through. It was the last time we'd see a cloud for the next 4 days.

We stopped for lunch at Granville Island just inside Vancouver. The area was probably a little artsy for me (and its not really even an island, unless that word has a different meaning in Canada). Regardless, we found an cool - and expensive - restaurant to grab a pint and see the city. It was nestled right under the Granville Street bridge and provided a cool view of the city. (Of course, since Blogger has decided not to let me post more pictures, you'll have to wait til my next post...)

Eager to get to Whistler and biking heaven, we didn't linger. Upon arriving, we took in the city scene and decided to camp at a government run roadside camping area, despite our efforts to find a place that was free (Derek, or "Sally," as I called him, didn't think camping near the landfill was a good idea). The next morning, before heading to the mountain to ride, we went on a quick hike to find what we expected to be a small waterfall, but turned out to be probably bigger than Fall Creek Falls...

The downhill biking on the mountain (where you actually put you bike on the ski lift and let it do all the work for you) was just insane. We spent all day on our $4,000 rented bikes, body armor and motorcycle helmets. I knew I'd had enough when I traded narly 6 foot jumps and successful teeter-totter runs for a wipe out that left me void of periphial vision in my left eye. A good day, nonetheless.

Purse strings made us trade in our downhill bikes for cross-country ones on Saturday. Great views and scenery abounded, almost as much as cramping quads and rest breaks. Cross-country mountain biking in Whistler is really something you need to train for, and I certainly wasn't ready for it. By mid-day, I was ready to trade my cross country bike back in for a downhill one on the slopes, but the excrutiating long weekend lift line pretty much made that impossible. True to my roots, I spent the last half day shopping, negating all the man-points I'd accrued by the last 2 days of roughing it in the woods. Easy come, easy go, I guess.

All in all, it was a great trip. I guess now its back to living vicariously through all the adventure magazines I subscribe to. Next trip - the Alps!

pac