A Canadian Thanksgiving

A new day and a new destination. We picked up our rental car - the woman commented that she had not seen such a low price for a while - bargain hunting at its best! She also informed us that due to the increase in value of real estate, all but one of the city centre petrol stations had sold up, meaning the remaining one had the monopoly. We crossed the Lion’s Gate bridge and made our way up highway 99, otherwise known as the Sea to Sky highway as it starts at sea level and winds along Howe sound up to the mountains. We pulled in at Porteau to watch a group of scuba divers while we had a snack. Next stop was Shannon falls, a 335m high waterfall that had featured in the Twilight film (which meant we had to see it of course). For lunch we were at what seemed to be the only cafe open in Squamish. The 'Chief’, a granite mountain and the largest free standing rock outside of Gibraltar, rose majestically on the other side of the highway. Groceries bought and McDonald’s milkshake and McFlurry slurped, we continued on our way to Brackendale, the eagle capital of the world. The locals informed us that we were too early to view the migrating pairs, but that we might be able to see resident bald eagles up the road. Failing to follow the directions we had been given, we ended up on a windy tree-lined road through paddocks and decided to retrace our drive when the tarmac turned to dirt track. We gave up on the eagles and instead went to Brandy Wine falls (not sure how it got its name?!). It was apparent when we arrived in to Whistler due to the very nice architecturally designed houses, including a very fancy one that had been built into the rock face that looked like it was straight out of a grand designs episode. We found our hostel and checked in, just at the right time it happened. For $10 each we could join a Thanksgiving dinner that night with around 40 other guests, cooked by a chef who was a regular guest at the hostel - no brainer! We did offer to make yorky p’s however he didn't seem that impressed. Ladies were invited to eat first and queued up for platefuls of turkey, ham, spuds, stuffing, various root veggies, gravy, and a delicious orange and cranberry sauce - like Christmas come early! The men piled their plates high. It was a meal to remember - the sign of a top-class roast dinner is when even the side dishes are cooked to gourmet standard. Everyone chipped in with the clear up. With full bellies we gathered in the lounge area to listen to the chef’s emotional speech about the spirit of sharing. Guests had been invited to donate a bag of apples which would then be taken to the food bank, in return for entering a raffle to win some hostel merchandise. For the rest of the evening we played pool, listened to others play guitar, discussed the unsustainable prices of accommodation in Whistler, and played cards. A guy from Australia introduced 'Melbourne Cup’; a raucous card game, and we started up a game of mushroom. Unfortunately that resulted in me losing! We hit the hay so as to be up early for our Thanksgiving activities.

In the Whistler village we happened upon the only free parking in town and hurried to the Blackcomb mountain chairlift, ready for our Sasquatch zipline, the longest in North America at 2km. Once weighed (panicking that we had piled on weight but relieved when we found out it was in lbs), we loaded into the van and wound up the mountain for 25 minutes. Kitted out in our harnesses, Hugo and I, along with the other nervous participants, made our way onto the platform above the tree canopy and peered over the edge to see what awaited us. After the briefing and watching two pairs go down, we plucked up the courage and carefully stepped onto the bottom step ready to launch. 3, 2, 1… we were off! We let out a scream as we whizzed down the 45 degree wire through the forest. While we had been previously told we would be reaching speeds of up to 100kmph, we weren't prepared for the force of the wind rushing past! Hugo whizzed on ahead and half way over the valley I remembered to let go and move my hands down, allowing me to spin and look at the view on either side. I saw Hugo finish in the distance and then I came in to land, speechless both from the view and the wind chill. Thankfully Hugo still had the GoPro after he had temporarily fixed it to his helmet. We watched the final people zip down before the instructor, who during the summer had achieved an unconfirmed world record speed of 206kmph, came down. We took the gondola down and went for 2for1 fish and chips at an Irish pub. In the afternoon we went back up to view the snowplough and other equipment, giving Hugo the opportunity to pose for a James Bond-esque photo on a snowmobile. Our next activity was the Peak 2 Peak gondola, the world's highest and longest unsupported lift system. We skipped ahead of the people waiting for the 'silver’ carriage as we had seen other people get a normal carriage to themselves and there was no queue. After waiting for a free one, we hopped in only to have a swarm of Indians pile in at the last minute. The best laid plans! We glided along the cable getting further and higher into the valley, which afforded us fantastic views of the village and forest below. We could just make out the gravity-defying zipwire that we had previously zoomed down. On the other side we headed off on a trail that promised good wildlife spotting. We listened out for hoary marmots but no luck, although we did come across two Asian girls who had decided to feed dates to some gray jays who were happily landing on their hands to take the treats. Being offered some dates for ourselves, Hugo fed the jays for a while and we carried on. Our journey back on the Peak 2 Peak was a more private affair, sharing with two other people. We headed back to the hostel, walking through the Olympic park from the 2010 winter Olympics. Clearly thinking about the winter, we opted to relax in the hostel hot tub which we had to ourselves, complete with fairy lights. Not a bad first Canadian Thanksgiving! Chilling out in the hostel kitchen, we were invited to try some soup by a woman from Shanghai. Excited by the prospect of a delicious authentic Chinese recipe, we were slightly disappointed to find that it was a plain egg and tomato soup. She also offered chicken gizzards and celery, which were a bit too ‘authentic’ for our taste so politely declined a second helping. While we cooked our meal - a stir fry - the woman cast her eye over our noodles that Hugo had just drained. Trying to explain that we had overcooked them, she clearly couldn't find the words as she opted for a highly entertaining interpretive dance that involved wobbling her arms enthusiastically. After chatting for a while about her leaving her family behind to go on holiday for some 'me’ time, and the translations of ingredients into Chinese (imagine our shock when hearing that Pak Choi is not a Chinese name!), we got onto names. Using Google translate we deciphered that her name translated literally into English as 'Duckweed Bouquet’. While I'm sure the name sounds beautiful and elegant in Chinese, I'm sure we can agree that it doesn't work so well in English. Hugo and I couldn't control our laughter, much to the bemusement of Duckweed Bouquet. When it was time to go to bed she wished us a 'safe and quiet night’ - another slightly strange translation but sweet nonetheless.

Waking up early to hit the road for our return to Vancouver, we prepared our breakfast and were halfway through munching to be interrupted by a much unwanted announcement. 'Does anyone own a grey Toyota Corolla?’. Oh dear. The hostel employee sat down next to us (not a good sign) and told us that someone had reversed into our car in the parking lot and that our rear bumper was damaged. Luckily for us the offender was in a company car and had come in to give his insurance details. With a sheepish apology and a bundle of papers handed over, he made a swift exit and left it to us. The hostel lady was very helpful and called the hire company to confirm the procedure. We went to get some photos of the damage to find that it had been somewhat under reported. We attempted to open the boot to find that the chassis had been deformed. After some brute force on Hugo's part the boot was open and we then had to solve the second challenge - closing the boot. After loading our bags into the rear seats for fear of not being able to open the boot again to retrieve them, Hugo wrestled with the broken bumper to eventually get the boot lid closed. Trying to put this to the back of our minds, we set off towards a road we had been recommended for spotting bears. After 40 minutes of cruising at a comfortable bear-spotting speed of 40km/h, we returned back up the road unsuccessful to make our slightly earlier return to Vancouver and face the inevitable paperwork. Thankfully there was just one form to fill in and we were free to go.

Wandering through Vancouver again, this time laden with backpacks, we realised we needed change for the bus. Hugo volunteered to nip into a Korean supermarket to get some toothpaste to break a note. After 5 minutes he emerged with something that definitely did not look like toothpaste - a little bag of garlic bread - obviously his priorities had changed! An hour later our bus pulled into horseshoe bay and our luck changed as the ferry was running late allowing us to catch it just in time. Our crossing gave us great views of the city as the sun set, with dramatic clouds and a pink sky.Read more