Why Whistler?

The answer to that question will emerge as you read today's entry.

It was an early start for us this morning. Our bags were to be outside our doors by 6.45. This time was not difficult for me as I woke again in the middle of the night and failed to get back to sleep again. Five hours of trying to go back to sleep failed utterly and I was glad when the time ticked over when I could get up and ready myself for the day. Ross fell asleep within minutes of hitting the pillow and was blissfully out to it for the whole night. I am so envious. I had been feeling the worse for the lack of sleep and my body ached from the strenuous gripping and steadying I had found necessary while whale watching. I was surprised by the level of muscle ache I felt afterward but I suspect it was the combination. Today was worse. I can't shed the discomfort and will try to sweat it out tonight if I can. I have been pushing through to try not to sleep during the day but gave up at about three when our bus finally came to a stop and I was able to get into my hotel bed.

Enough of my woes and on to the story of today. We ate a hearty breakfast. Ross had the full cooked breakfast (bacon, eggs, tomatoes, sausages, roast potatoes and toast) and I tried a mix of those two porridges with some almonds, pecans and cranberries with a dash of honey. Very yummy. Then I thought I would try the one thing on the buffet I had not tried. I had a small chocolate chip pancake with maple syrup and whipped cream. That could be quite addictive. It is just as well we are no longer at that hotel or they may have found themselves with a shortage of pancakes.

We all got on our bus and met our new bus driver, Joseph. I have to say that I have had better bus drivers. He is friendly enough and couldn't be more helpful when helping people get on and off the bus, but I found his driving uncomfortable. He was faster than I would have thought necessary, he tended to pump the accelerator making the passengers jerk around, he swung the vehicle around corners and often had to brake firmly when coming to a stop light. When my suitcase was delivered to my room it had clearly been quite battered. It is hardshelled and it had cracked in a couple of places. The suitcase doesn't owe me anything, but it does need to see me through this holiday so I will make sure I keep it as full as I can so it is less inclined to give way.

After a drive through Vancouver Island, watching the felled logs on the rivers gather in corners awaiting collection, we enjoyed learning about the wonderful names of the regions we passed through. There was Cobble Hill, Cowichan Bay, Chemainus, "Ladysmith!!!!!!", Cedar and Nanaimo where we caught the ferry. These towns come under the region originally occupied by the Salish people, all except Namaino which is eponymous to that group. Bill, our guide, told us of the appalling history of the treatment of their indigenous peoples which so closely matches our own. In their case the rebuilding of the peoples is further complicated by a kind of class system within the groups leading to a lack of unity and, at times, greater persecution of some of the folk. We have so much we need to repair and restore and so much regret to deal with before we can hold our heads high in the face of what we did and what we have inherited. I deeply felt the burden of my luck having been born white and therefore privileged. We don't necessarily think of ourselves as privileged, but by comparison we certainly are.

Bill also told us of a deep midwinter festival in the region. It was called naked bungy jumping. Participants paint their bodies in colourful designs then drop into icy water. It is a huge attraction with thousands turning up to watch people strip off and fall into alpine rivers. They raise funds for schizophrenia so I can only say good luck to them.

As we approached the embarkation point we followed a FJORD. I finally got to see a fjord! I have tried many times in the past and always had something that got in the way. I was on the wrong side of the bus to get a photo, but I could still see it. Slartibartfast was indeed a gifted natural architect!

We then drove onto the ferry to cross Georgia Strait, back to the mainland. The sky was quite blue today. The locals are pleased. The fog we thought we had seen when we first landed in Vancouver was in fact smoke from the dreadful fires they have had. It has taken some time for it to clear. The light rain we had the other day is the first rain they have had for a long time, so everyone here is pleased about the weather we brought with us. The sea was calm and we enjoyed seeing the snow capped mountains appear out of the distant haze. For some of our group, who are all of the same age as us, it was the first time they had seen snow.

The group is made up of 38 travellers, four of whom are from Melbourne (including us), two from the Gold Coast and the rest are from South Australia. They also seem to be country folk rather than city dwellers. We are getting to know them whenever we stop for meals or activities. Everyone is very friendly and getting along well.

After about an hour on the water of Georgia Strait , we rounded Gabriola Island and entered into Horseshoe Bay, joined the Sea to Sky Highway, following it passed Britannia Beach, the Garibaldi Highlands and Cheekye. Then we followed the Tantalus Mountains around Howe Sound until we stopped at Shannon Falls for a stretch and a photo opportunity. Howe Sound is named after the same Lord Howe that we have off Australian shores. Shannon Falls is big! The water falls 330 metres down a granite face. Ross climbed right up to the lookout to get some pictures but I stayed down below. I found a rather cheeky bird jumping around the picnic grounds and I followed him around trying to take his picture. He wouldn't sit still enough for me to take a clear picture. I got three. One shows the bird's shape, one shows its colour and the third shows its size. None of them is good enough to share, but I can now prove that I saw a blue jay. Very cheeky little chap. We were also warned that a bear had been seen in the region, so when Ross failed to make it back to the bus with everyone else, I began to wonder whether he had tried to beat me to photographing a bear. Not so! That prize still awaits. I did see a coyote very briefly. It reminded me a little in frame to the dingo. The face is quite different though.

We then got back onto the road and found ourselves following an alpine river called the Cheakamus River. Apparently some time ago a tanker containing powerful toxins crashed into this river and burst, killing everything (right back to bacteria). The salmon and other fish that spawned in the river were destroyed. It could have been catastrophic as the river flowed down towards the sea, so some thought it might poison the whole region . Fortunately, the liquid that detoxifies the poison is sea water and so the sea was saved and the sea saved the river. Amazing. Four years later and the court cases still continue.

Eventually, we made it to our destination today, Whistler. There were many silly jokes about mothers and rocking chairs, but it is the wrong whistler. Apparently the town is named after the call made by my old friend, the marmot. People who read my last travel blog will remember my story of discovering marmots in Switzerland and how the Americans all insisted the creature was a groundhog. When we heard how marmots communicate by whistling to each other, particularly when alarmed by the possibility of eagles, the name of the town was made clear. It was suggested that some people thought the marmot was a groundhog, but locals called it the marmot, so I delighted to applaud them quietly.

Whistler is essentially a fairly new town, developed in response to growth in interest in skiing and other outdoor alpine pursuits. The shops are classy and modern and over represented by restaurants.

Ross was gobsmacked by one sport, the mountain bike riding. There were a great many cyclists wandering around with their protective gear on, but he commented that as they came down the slope they took moguls and jumps and launched themselves into air. It was quite breathtaking. As a one time skier he also commented that the slope for the women's downhill was incredible. It was five kilometres long. By contast the Mt Bulla run might be a kilometre or so.

I have discovered another thing about Canadians today. It was always there but I only just worked out what it was. They love the superlative. Things are not just "good", they are "really good", not just "delicious" but the "most delicious" and the scarf I was wearing today was "spectacular, gorgeous and fabulous". I do like it and it is dramatic, but such superlatives are a little OTT. They also tend to use their outside voice all the time. Someone can be right beside you when you thank them for their service and they shout out at double digit decibels that they are " entirely pleased to have been able to be of service" and hope that I will call on them again if I have any further needs. Quite extraordinary.Read more