Meat Glacier

(Chronologically, it's time for Cheese Action. Click here: http://neneandthepuppet.blogspot.com/2010/08/mmmmmmm-cheese.html)

Short Version:
We watch mad people, eat cheese, hear things, eat cheese, and go for a ride. Then we eat some cheese.

Long Version:
The cheese went into Tim and Janna's fridge (after some rearranging to make that much room) and we went into Alta Lake, and then walked back in to Whistler Village to watch the Slopestyle, which is Crankworx Whistler's signature event. There was an immense and vocal crowd in to watch what is basically a run down through the Boneyard, where a number of stupidly-large jumps have been constructed. Points are acquired by successfully pulling off as many enormous, ridiculously difficult stunts as is possible on the way down the hill. First guy we saw in action mismanaged a backflip off the final jump and landed on his face, right in front of us. It was a lot more visceral seeing something like that in person than it is seeing video footage, and that was true also of the jumps that were landed successfully; especially impressive was the front flip that one guy did on one of the upper jumps.

The walk back to the house seemed much longer than the walk in, despite taking a more direct route. Suspicion is that hunger and thirst played a part there. Once back, it was cheese o'clock, although it turned out that the wheel of cracked-pepper goodness had been wrapped in so much masking tape that it took several of us several minutes to actually get to the deliciousness. When we did, though... Oh, the deliciousness!

Our fellow house-guests for the night were Tim and Kala (Hi Tim and Kala!), and between them and our hosts we learned many interesting things over a wine or three, including who it is that controls Vancouver's port (the Hell's Angels), how best to cook human (planked, like salmon*), the role of lemons in the grass-roots economy of Malawi (primary barter currency, especially in villages where the headman has a prolific lemon tree), and how to scratch-calculate the length of time it will take to double your population (or whatever) given a growth rate which isn't pushing bell curve extremes (the Rule of 72**). Later, they woke us up by throwing the baby off the mezzanine, and then in the morning cooked a massive feast, including French toast, eggs, and muffins made from scratch. Perfect pre-loading for a long ride, which is exactly what we had in mind for the day.

Nene and Whistler Tim and I started out under a not-yet-unfriendly sun on paved bike-/footpaths, through a few variously fancypants lakeside Whistler suburbs. Pretty soon we hooked in to the Blueberry Trail, which was a really cool, surprisingy technical trail through the woods separating a couple of residential areas. Some more paved trails and some highway took us out of town to the north, to Fitzsimmons Creek, where we left the highway and carved our way into the forest on a combination of shady singletrack and exposed and blazingly-hot 4WD tracks. We stopped to eat our packed lunches (thanks Janna!) on the lake shore near Parkhurst, which during its heyday in either the 1930s, 40s or 50s - depending on which guide you're reading - was a thriving logging settlement. It's now a ghost town; all the cabins bar one have collapsed in on themselves, and various whole and part vehicles, appliances and implements lie scattered about the place in various states of decrepitude.

The trail south from Parkhurst traversed the face of some fairly steep hills, and had us climbing (Tim and I on foot half the time) and descending for an hour or so before we reached the Lost Lake trail network, and then Lost Lake itself. Like Alta Lake, Lost Lake had a number of jetties and platforms available for public use, and on this super-hot Sunday it seemed that everyone in town had decided that it was the place to be. We were all hot and sweaty and more than ready for a swim, so parked bikes and headed out along one of the jetties in our undergarments. Tim's amusement was palpable as we got closer to the people already on the jetty, and it became apparent that not only had they shed their outer clothing, but their underthings as well. Not an issue in and of itself, but I do prefer my naked people ever-so-slightly more aesthetically-pleasing than the vast majority of those present. Still, the water was wonderfully refreshing, and just what we needed after having ridden for that long under that sun. And the naked people are a memory we'll never forget. No matter how hard we try.

Back on the bikes, and a half-hour run through some of the Zappa trails took us to the village, where a jug of local ale set us up for the run back to the house, via Alta Lake. And then it was time to thank Tim and Janna for their hospitality, and Tim for the ride guidance, and to head south, back to Vancouver, to get ourselves sorted and ready to head north properly, although not as properly as originally hoped - riding our bikes naked inside the Arctic Circle will have to wait til next summer, or maybe the one after that.







* = http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Plank_cooking

** = http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rule_of_72