*Vancouver's oldest tourist attraction, Capilano Suspension Bridge was originally built in 1889, stretches 450 feet across and 230 feet above Capilano River. The original bridge was constructed of hemp rope and cedar planks. 450 feet long and 230 feet high, today's bridge is made of reinforced steel safely anchored in 13 tons of concrete on either side of the canyon. Since 1889 much has been added to the twenty-seven acre park and Andrew and I enjoyed them all the new additions. We explored Treetops Adventure, the park's newest attraction - seven suspension bridges through the evergreens taking you up to 100 feet above the forest floor. We visited Totem Park and First Nations Culture Center. There we met this gentleman and were able to watch him carve. He explained to us that carving is usually a private activity…like praying. He has agreed to allow people to observe his “praying” as to help them understand and respect his culture.
George Grant Mackay, the Scottish civil engineer who built the original suspension bridge in 1889, was the Vancouver City Parks Commissioner responsible for setting aside the land now known as Stanley Park.
*Facts taken from the website.
We had a wonderful time and learned a lot too.
Before we left, Andrew and I had an unexpected surprise….we were walking along the “boardwalk” and a squirrel scampered right in front of us holding something furry in its mouth. At first I thought it was “kill” of some kind…but squirrels don’t eat meat…as we watched her….She scampered on, stopped, looked at us and then darted passed us to run up the fence. From the side, we saw that she was carrying her baby and the baby’s little paws were holding on to its mama. She quickly proceeded to take a flying leap to the nearest tree…and away they went. I have seen a lot of squirrels in my life and I have never seen that!
We were on the road by 10 am and had decided to take the “scenic” route to our next destination. Scenic usually means longer, but when I inquired at the front desk of our hotel the night before, the gentleman insured me that it would be a quicker route then the main highway. HA!
Highway 99 was three things: slow, gorgeous and terrifying.
Highway 99 is a two lane road, called the Sea-to-Sky Coastal Highway, that made a fast transition from the big city to stunning landscape. I felt a strong sense of adventure knowing that we were entering remote territory that, judging by the map, the next good-size city was two days away. Mom, Andrew and I were driving into the wilds of Canada.
The main reason tourists travel 99, other than the beauty, is that it is the only way to Whistler. Whistler is a world-renown ski resort community that lies in the southern
Pacific Ranges of the
Coast Mountains of
British Columbia. It has a permanent population of approximately 9,965, yet over two million people visit Whistler annually, primarily for
alpine skiing and
mountain biking at
Whistler-Blackcomb. I learned from Wikipedia website that Whistler’s pedestrian village has won numerous design awards and the resort town has been voted among the top destinations in
North America by major ski magazines since the mid-1990s.
During the
2010 Winter Olympics, Whistler will host most of the alpine,
nordic and sliding events.
Whistler’s popularity and the road construction for the upcoming Olympics turned the 78 miles from Vancouver into a four hour, bumper-to-bumper, roller coaster commute. The slow pace allowed me to take in the majestic scenery, but with both hands firmly on the wheel, my camera lay untouched. Thankfully, we had two opportunities before we arrived in Whistler to stretch our legs….one was Shannon Falls and the other was lookout point Tantalus View Retreat.
Shannon Falls is the third highest waterfall in British Columbia
(Here is a little info on the falls taken from a the park’s website)
Shannon Falls is composed of a series of cliffs, rising 335 meters above Highways 99. The tumbling waters of Shannon Falls originate from Mount Habrich and Mount Sky Pilot. The falls were named after Shannon, who in 1890-1900 owned the falls and surrounding area and used the clay deposits to make bricks. He then sold the land to Brittania Copper Mines in 1900. In the 1930's, the area was used as a relief camp for the workers building Highway 99. In 1976 the area was purchased by Carling O'Keefe Brewery, who used the pure mountain water to brew their beer, and made the area a logging show park. In 1982 O'Keefe donated the land to BC Parks. Throughout the park area there is evidence of logging activity that occurred here roughly 90 years ago. A number of excellent spring board notches on old stumps are scattered throughout the forested area and much of the deadfall also exhibits evidence of the logging techniques of this period.
Cultural Heritage:This park holds significant spiritual value to the Squamish Indians, the first people to live in this area. They told of a two headed sea serpent, Say-noth-ka who lived in and around Howe Sound. According to legend, this beast travelled both on land and in water. Some versions say it was Say-noth-ka who formed Shannon Falls by slithering and twisting his powerful body up the mountainside on repeated expeditions, Say-noth-ka gradually wore down a spillway for those cascading waters.
Andrew and I reveled in the natural luxury of Shannon Falls. He played in the water, climbed rocks and laughed as the spray from the falls tickled his face. I was mesmerized by the sheer height of the falls and truly enjoyed my break from behind the steering wheel.
Our next view point was far more breathtaking in person than what is captured by this picture. There is such a great peace that comes from witnessing layers of mountains, a deep river bed, endless forests and a bright blue sky. We lingered little for we knew, at this point, it could be midnight before we reached our over-night destination.
Our stop in Whistler turned into a frenzied search for food and gas. We were all hungry and for me hungry is often paired with cranky. Mom didn’t quite fathom the idea that a town could be designed to be seen only by foot. Alas “pedestrian village” alludes to the fact that a person must walk to see it. Mom, much like the visit to the Space Needle, passively insisted that there must be a closer place to park and had no qualms about suggesting illegal maneuvers to locate the eatery of her choice. At one point we did find a supermarket parking lot, but this was no good either. I drove in circles around the town, became totally disoriented and finally parked back in the supermarket parking lot only to head out on foot. (duh) Andrew and I raced through the village to find something for lunch, every now and I then I frantically took a picture.
One remarkable attribute of this area was the appearance of the water. Lakes, streams and ponds all reflected a color I had never seen before. The water had a chalky light blue hue.
We ended up buying forty dollars worth of Japanese food to go, literally ran back to the truck, woke Mom up and feasted for all of 10 minutes and then off we went again. This time to find gas…no luck. There is not a gas station in Whistler. I guess they take their walking very seriously…
We said good-bye to Whistler, fueled up down the road and continued to travel from Sea-to-Sky.
The traffic and construction had thinned down considerably and we were able to travel a decent pace.
These delicate purple flowers lined the roadside in feathery-wave formations; a striking contrast to the deep greens, browns and blues of the mountainous region.
This road, coincidentally, was both a photographer’s dream and nightmare. From every angle was a picture-perfect moment, but the roads were not designed for stopping. This picture of the Cayoosh Creek was taken under the threat of death. I parked precariously along the shoulder-less road, dashed out on the one-way wooden bridge and hoped no one would race around the corner.
As we climbed in elevation, the roads began to switch dramatically back and forth. The tight turns along the narrow road were inches away from steep drop-offs and the heavy weight of our truck forced me to travel only about 10 miles per hour. The roads were so difficult to maneuver, Mom couldn’t sleep during this leg of the trip. She held her breath most of the time, fearing that any lag in my concentration would have us careening to our peril. The fact that my gaze was on and off the road, and my frustration was mounting at the lack of vistas did not bring Mom any comfort.
At the top of the pass, we found a safe place to pull over. The heavily forested slopes gave way to jagged cliffs and
sheer canyon walls layered with thick veins of rust, brown and red. The raging river looked like a tiny thread at the bottom of the water shed.
It was the most remarkable portion of our trip. This section of 99 is one that I would love to revisit, hike and camp; it needs a pace and a perspective that is slow and thoughtful.
We came out of the ethers and down to a resting place, where this fjord-like view allowed Mom to breathe again and I, to gather myself before continuing on the road to Silverhorn Lodge in Ranch Lake. The truck’s breaks smelled of burning rubber. Mom and I were concerned. The clock read 5 pm. We had no cell phone reception, so a
reassuring call to Steve was out of the question. We made a brief stop at a roadside gas station and they reassured us that everyone coming over that pass has smelly brakes. The terrain flattened, so much so, it reminded me of the East coast. As the sun began move to the right, the car cooled down and, to our relief, the brake smell ceased. Only then could I put away images of being stranded and held at the whims of a greasy mechanic.
It felt wonderful to be back on the open road. My shoulders relaxed, I could once again drive with one hand on the wheel. Mom slept and Andrew kept me company with entertaining chatter and questions.
There were no towns along the way and the land surrounding us was used primarily used for farming. A house or two scattered about the shallow hillsides were the only signs of people.
We arrived at Silver Horn Lodge just after nightfall. The days driving had been unexpectedly long and strenuous and the deserted back roads to the lodge weighed heavily on my tired eyes. As my high beams aided in the lookout for deer and other critters wishing to cross the pavement, I prayed the sign for the lodge would soon appear. At 9:30 pm, eleven hours after our morning departure, and twenty-five miles off the main two-lane highway, we found our sign and shortly after, our lodge.
Our host, Bernd, greeted us at the large double doors. Weary, stiff and straining to make pleasant “small talk,” I briefly explained the day’s travels. He apologetically rolled his eyes and smiled at the news that we traveled 99 as a “quicker” way to get north from Vancouver. He handed over our keys and asked about breakfast – we settled on 8:00 am – a time that minutes later my weary mama said with a laugh, “Ha! I’ll see you all at lunch!”
The rooms were lovely; the bedding was European style duvet covers of silky fine-gauge material in orange and burgundy, log cabin walls and high ceilings with broad beams and knotty pine, and an oversized bathroom with all the amenities. Amen.
Reinvigorated by the fact that we weren’t staying in a shanty shack in the boonies, Mom knocked on the door and invited us outside to look at the stars and to listen to the frogs and crickets. A faint shadow of the lake glistened in the dark nighttime air. (I was very curious as to what it would look like by day.) The stars were bright and the frogs bellowed from the other side of the navy sky. We weren’t alone on the porch. A gentleman sat on the swinging bench. Mom wasted no time getting his story; Chuck from Vegas, works in the mining business, has two sons who play sports, is leaving on Thursday and “no,” he doesn’t know any legal way to get gold bars out of Mexico for Mom’s nice friend.
A bed never felt so good. As I cuddled into the divine duvet, I took a peaceful inventory; no alarm clock, no agenda, ahhhhhhh…no worries.
It was a bright and sunny Saturday morning when Tina and Chris Fuller called and invited us out for a day of island exploration. It didn’t take me two seconds to reply an enthusiastic, “yes!” We gathered the gear, snacks, and camera for the trip. As I sat in the car, ready to go, I felt like a kid on the way to Disneyland.
He had been there for over an hour carefully observing the bear go from one end of the river bed to the other. She showed Andrew the grassy spot where the bear feasted on his kills. The muddy bodies still remain but the fish heads were taken as a bear snack.
Our next stop was False Bay. It was lovely. The beach was clean and the water, clear. By the rocky edge of the shore the water gave off a translucent turquoise glow. We lunched and laughed and strained to list on one hand places that were prettier than this.
We enjoyed the aquarium at a leisurely pace; walking slowly, taking in to the fullest the incredible bounty of all that was presented to us: each beautifully made with a specific purpose in mind. From the baby beluga whale and his mother to the thick-whiskered leopard seals, from the delightful seahorses to the flying dolphins, we weaved and wandered through the aquarium, marveling at the mere fraction of the undersea world protected in this place. Knowing that beyond this glimpse of ocean, sea and stream there is a dark and glorious universe that we will never see. It was a divine experience and a definite highlight of our trip. 
