After a weekend of full on downpours, and barely venturing out of the house for fear of being washed away, Monday brought scorching hot sunshine. We'd agreed to meet up with Dan, a friend of George's to do the Grouse Grind. It's a hike up to the top of Grouse mountain, which can be reached by cable car for the rather steep price of $45. Now I was aware that it's a relatively taxing hike up, consisting mainly of natural steps; in fact it is a 2.9 km hike with an elevation gain of 853m and 2830 stairs. However I didn't quite grasp how hard it would be, I was so naive about it that I'd gone for a run that morning, in hindsight I most definitely wouldn't advise both.
So blissfully unaware of what awaited we set off, initially the boys gallantly stuck at my pace, but about 20 minutes or so in I asked Dan how far up we were. I was thinking somewhere between 1/3 to 1/2 way up, but no we hadn't even reached the 1/4 mark yet. At this point my optimism began to falter, and I could only think of the relief of the shade offered to us by the forest. The guys began to pull ahead and would periodically be waiting for me. There are lots of different types of people doing the grind, those drenched in sweat pushing for a good time, tourists and groups of friends just enjoying the walk and people who must do it at least once a week they look so at ease.
Unfortunately an Indian man decided to use me as his pace setter, I would appear round the corner and he would stand up and get going. Now this would have been only mildly irritating, opposed to full on grating, if it weren't for the incessantly tinny Bollywood music being produced by his mobile. When this audibly distressing noise became too much I would stop, wait for him to pass, leave enough time for him to plough ahead, and set off. A couple of minutes later I would round a bend to see him sitting there, and as I passed he would begin again. This continued for about a third of the way up, and caused my enjoyment of the whole thing to plummet. George and Dan however found this hilarious, my thought was if you can't enjoy the sound of nature, PUT IN HEADPHONES!
As we neared the top blue began to appear in the green of the canopy above, and the staircase became more regular. With my eyes on my feet I pushed the last quarter quite hard - partially to avoid the Bollywood - and paused only to watch a frail looking old Chinese woman carefully place her feet on each step. Slowly and carefully she negotiated the roots and slippy rocks, it was very impressive to see her make her way up. Pretty inspiring, if she could do it then no one else had reason to complain. I reached the top in 1h41, to the sight of the boys lounging in the sun, they'd completed it in 1h30.
As a reward we went to the viewpoint, which offers a great view of Vancouver. Off in the distance is Mt Baker, the sight of it got my ski legs itching.
We then headed off to see the grizzlies in the enclosure at the top, but were distracted first by Beavertails - a super tasty flat doughnut - then by the lumberjack show.
It showed you all the old tricks and techniques lumberjacks would use before the arrival of chainsaws. It was pretty entertaining and filled with the pre requisite corny family jokes.
Then we went to see Grinder and Coola who grew up in the enclosure after they were orphaned as cubs.
Suitably amused by our day we headed down in the cable car, you aren't allowed to walk back down, and even if we were I don't think my legs would have fancied it.
Our next adventure was off in Whistler, so we got up early and jumped on the minibus up to the mountains, it's only a couple of hours up the aptly named sea to sky highway. The scenery on the way is pretty stunning, turning from coves and mini mountain islands to towering monoliths covered in Glaciers with waterfalls tumbling down their sides. When we arrived we searched for somewhere to store our bags, unfortunately the storage facility is closed on Wednesdays, so we lumbered around Whistler with our camping supplies. It was absolutely scorching our entire time there, and we were soon feeling hot and sticky, however Whistler isn't renowned for its friendly prices so we settled under a tree waiting for midday.
See instead of heading straight off to set up camp we were waiting around to watch the Argentina vs Netherlands match. We found a bar - Tapleys, everyone recommended it - and shared a table with a Dutch couple.
As we all know it didn't go so well for the orange side, but it was fun to watch it with someone who had a vested interest. Afterwards we grabbed the shuttle to our campsite which is about 10 minutes out of the village, only to discover instead of a camping spot we had a fiery pit of death to sleep on. The whole campsite was gravel, and it lacked even the tiniest patch of shade from the burning sun.
It was so bad we couldn't venture out of the tent until the sun sunk behind a mountain at about 8:30. Then to add insult to injury our propane canister was the wrong size for our gas ring, so our beautifully prepared bolognaise was eaten cold with a side of bread. So gourmet.
The next day brought much excitement, we were off White Water Rafting! An early departure meant a nice walk into the village following the river, and then when we were all assembled piling in an old school bus. The journey to the river was filled with the required cringing introductions and guides making jokes.
We did the Elaho-Squamish river which has Class 4 rapids, when we finally reached it we split off into groups, luckily George and I managed to form one with other young like minded people. Essentially our guide, Pete, decided that we were all capable and steered us on a course down the biggest, and hardest rapids on offer. It was an initially nerve wracking experience but it quickly turned into a full on adrenaline rush full of fun. At one point we got out to swim, shockingly the glacier melt water was icy cold, and when Pete splashed me I got serious brain freeze. The next stage of the river was chock a block with the biggest rapids, the raft would rise up to almost 90* before plunging back down, quickly followed by a huge wave crashing into the boat! Sometimes there would be 3 or 4 big rapids in a row, for these we jumped down into the raft instead of trying to steer through them. Pete had us all alternate sitting on the bow of the raft, with our feet literally hanging over the edge. That was the freakiest moment, I could've sworn I was going to fall in, as it was I just lost balance and toppled back. Twice, obviously. The rapids ended all too soon and we spent the last half an hour drifting to the landing point, just enjoying the stunning scenery and now welcomingly warm sun.
Upon our return to Whistler, we invited a Texan girl Hannah for a drink. In no rush to return to our gravel lava pit we wiled away a few hours drinking, eating and comparing countries.
We discussed everything from healthcare to the Louisiana farmers on the rafting trip - she described them as Swamp people - to sports - we pointed out it's not a World Series if America are the only ones who play. Dinner turned into more drinks until we ended up at Garfinkel's, apparently the locals club? (Please don't quote me on that) Anyway we proceeded to drink and dance the night away, met up with the rafting guides who introduced us to these amazing rum and caramel shots and then watch a massive fight break out. It was crazy, the barmen jumped over the bar, the security guys were outmatched. Somehow it was ended, however half of the group were now stuck outside unable to get back in, after an inordinate amount of time looking for each other we reassembled. The decision was made to head to someone's flat, when the sun started to rise we decided to make our exit - the plan was to go hiking the next day - and wandered back to our now cool campsite, watching the sun turn the mountains pink.
Waking up in a sun baked tent with a hangover is not ideal, what's even worse is walking back up to the village in relentless heat, especially when you have all your camping equipment on your back. In their infinite wisdom the campsite had a shuttle that ran at 10 and then not again until 2.
When we reached the village we dumped our bags, as the storage shop was thankfully open. Our plan was to head up and do a longish hike around whistlers summit, given our not so fresh state and our late start we weren't quite so keen on the idea. We bought tickets and headed up anyway, it's about 15/20 minutes in the gondola up to the Peak 2 Peak station.
The Peak 2 Peak links The Whistler and Blackcomb mountains and ski areas, it's a 4.4 km gondola across the dividing valley and takes 15 minutes. The views are pretty incredible, but looking right down to the valley floor is most definitely in freak out territory.
There was still some glacier skiing on Blackcomb, and as we followed a trail we had to walk across a very slushy piste. The only people I saw skiing down were park rats, I can't imagine many other people would want to water ski in 35* heat.
After admiring the stunning views of Whistler we settled down for a bite to eat, and began throwing breadcrumbs to an inquisitive Greyjay - otherwise known as a Whiskey Jack - big mistake. After only a couple of minutes the trees around us were filled with grey quiffs and hungry eyes, at one point there must have been at least 15 or 20.
It felt very menacing, almost like a scene from a movie, just before they start to swarm. More warily than before we finished our lunch and headed back for the return trip. As we were waiting for a gondola, one came past that was being decorated by 3 ladies, it was being filled with photos and love hearts, someone was about to propose in there. So cute!
On the Whistler side we jumped on the chairlift to the summit, it turns out walking off a chairlift is very disconcerting after years of pushing off of one.
The Summit was very rocky and hot, despite the snow to the sides it was burning. We headed off down a trail for some more hungover hiking and walked along a massive ice wall, which came in handy when we wanted to cool down.
There was very little plant life even though it's only 2,200 m high, very far removed from the pretty vegetation of the alps. As it turns out hiking surrounded by rocks and snow makes you quite liable to burning, as I found out with my atrocious racer back tan lines. Good work me. We took the gondola back down, and on the way saw a bear gambolling in a meadow. Yes I say gambolling because he/she was reaching up for something in mid air, so I feel gambolling as a word choice is justified. Our two hour wait for the bus was sweltering, hot and muggy it was around 37*, once again we were lugging around our rucksacks and eventually resorted to a slightly shady bench to wait for the bus. Our trip back was just as gorgeous enhanced by an amazing sunset over the sea.
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