Fin de Vancouver, partie deux*

(*Merci, Google Translate, for the French-assist...)

Remember I mentioned that after our super-long and semi-arduous outing, traveling to and hiking Crooked Falls, we still aspired to cram in one more thing on our last day of vacation? Well, it worked out, because fortunately, it was A) on the way back to the condo and B) not strenuous at all.

So we gathered our remaining dregs of energy and enthusiasm and made our way to the Capilano Suspension Bridge, a popular attraction that offers bird's eye views of the Capilano River below, as well as the surrounding wooded environment. The namesake structure is 450 feet long, and sways noticeably as you (and dozens of other people) cross it. Once you reach the other side, you can also walk along another set of wooden paths, which take you eventually to a height of 100 feet above the forest floor, where you can see both the treetops and all the lush growth below you as you gaze down over the railings. Finally, there's a cantilevered walkway built right into the side of a cliff overlooking the water, allowing you to stroll out onto see-through platforms and peer down past your feet to the river and its banks.

Final tourist destination in Vancouver: check! We had a bang-up last day, and an overall splendid getaway, which included lots of awesome urban exploring, several 5-6 mile hikes with stunning scenery, some delicious meals...and all for the low, low cost of 10+ miles of walking per day, adding up to a grand total of over 142,000 steps. Yeeeah...add in some jet lag, and it's no wonder we're exhausted after all of that Canadian gallivanting!

Now that we're safely back home, here are a few of the last, random thoughts that have been bouncing around my head waiting to get out, regarding the WestEnders Vancouver Adventure of 2019:

--Given that the city is a popular Summer getaway, competition for--and cost of--lodging can be daunting. Therefore I went with my usual backup plan, and checked AirBnB for options. Now, this always feels like a little bit of a shot in the dark to me, since I'm typically looking for something in a place I've never been before, meaning that it's unfamiliar territory. So my standard procedure is just to pick something that looks fairly central, is spacious enough to accommodate us, and doesn't charge an arm and a leg (one or the other, sure, but not BOTH--that's my policy and I'm sticking to it!).

That's how I ended up with our townhouse, which looked chic, updated, and lovely in photos, and was described as being in a "historic neighborhood". And when we arrived, we found that it was, in fact, accurately depicted, with a muted palette and the clean lines one expects...from watching HGTV's showings of ultra-modern homes. There are only two things I could find to complain about: first, for reasons that remain utterly inexplicable to me, there were skylights built into the vaulted ceilings of the bedrooms. And in case you were wondering when dawn begins to break in this part of British Columbia in July...that would be "5 a.m.". Yep, Every. Freaking. Morning. I was woken by the *&%$ sunshine pouring in the window...directly onto my face.

Seriously, whose brilliant design idea was this? Because I'd like to smack them. I finally solved the problem after a couple of days by purchasing a cheap sleep mask from a local drugstore, which I would slap on as soon as my natural alarm clock roused me, permitting me to stay in bed for several more hours.

Second, there was no air conditioning. I readily admit that we're spoiled Americans, and this luxury is probably not needed most of the time in Vancouver, blah blah blah. But on the one "hot" day (okay, it was 84*,  but trust me, this counts) we returned home after all of our running around to find the interior of the house to be stifling and uncomfortable. Honestly, it had never even occurred to me to consider something like that in a rental condo (since in hotels it's obviously a given)...but it definitely affected our slumber for a few of the nights during our stay!

This brings me to the other part of the posting: while the area around the house might well be one of Vancouver's earliest established settlements...let's just say that in some ways, it's showing its age. For example, the pedestrian street our hosts told us about was absolutely picturesque, with adorable homes, lively parks, and quaint shops. And as a bonus, we found ourselves situated on the border of a vibrant Chinatown, filled with an impressively and interestingly multicultural mix of citizens and businesses. But...the major road we took almost every day to get downtown? It was the kind of place where every building had steel bars on its windows and doors, and each block seemed to be populated by teeming crowds of the homeless. Contrasts such as these became a recurring theme that we noticed while in Vancouver--for instance, between upscale, expensive-looking districts, and more run-down, depressed sections; or gritty industrial regions versus sleek, commerce or tourism-oriented blocks. (None of this is meant to criticize...just things that came to our attention while navigating the city.)

--Moving on to a delightful topic: the weather! While we never quite adjusted to temperatures in Celsius, we did learn from experience that "15" meant fabulously crisp, such that one might even need long sleeves or a jacket (If you're like me, that is--chilly all the time), and "23-ish" called for a tee-shirt. (Thank goodness my phone's weather app kept giving me the values in Fahrenheit, so I didn't need to think about it too much!) It was soooo enjoyable to escape the hot, humid NC summertime...especially since I knew from social media that our region happened to be suffering a nasty heatwave during our absence. Believe me, we made sure to be extra-grateful...and I was thrilled to use all of the cool-weather gear I'd brought along.

--Next, I don't know if it has anything to do with the accommodating outdoor conditions, but one thing you can't help but be impressed by is what appears to be a hard-core cycling culture in and around Vancouver. We saw people on bikes all over the city, either in dedicated lanes, or mixing with the traffic. But there were also extra...ambitious? (or nuts, whatever)...riders on all of the trails we hiked, including those that went straight up and downhill...and on the mountainous roads leading north of town to Squamish and Whistler. I mean....mad props to these folks with their special jerseys and high-tech helmets and...calves bigger than my torso. Power on, dudes and dudettes!

And if you're still hanging in there with me, there are just a few unrelated tidbits left: it was no surprise at all that Vancouver caters to the coffee-loving humans. Furthermore, one could expect quality brew from just about anyplace that served it....and you can't swing a stick without encountering a java joint. (I never had a bad cup, and frankly, I would have been extremely disappointed if I had!) However, iced tea is another story altogether. It's a staple beverage for me during the toasty months, and after several days in the Great White North I was craving it. But literally the ONLY establishment I was able to find it in was...Starbucks. It was a head-scratcher, for sure...but I was relieved to get my hands on some!

Two things that never stopped amusing us: the fact that Maps instantly and seamlessly switched to kilometers when giving us directions in Canada (regardless of whether we actually understood this or not. I think we did eventually reach the point where we could do some rough mental calculations of distance and get a vague idea of how far off something was. Our race history helped some--we already knew 5K and 10K translations. And then Riley also pointed out the track and field applications, teaching us that 800 meters equals about a half-mile, which helped with some of the shorter conversions. It was just a lot more...math-ing...than we were anticipating, I think!) And one last thing about driving: our absolute favorite sign (among many possibilities, since BC proved very entertaining with its roadside information) was the one that we kept seeing next to Highway 99, which read "Slippery When Frosty". Oh. My. Gosh...how cute is that, y'all?

And finally, we just LOVED the subtle, classy accent we heard among the Canadian residents we met. Words like "about" or "sorry" sound slightly different...and hipper, somehow...in the mouths of our northern neighbors. So, by the end of our trip, we were all pronouncing things the Vancouver way at times, simply because we liked hearing ourselves talk like that. Now perhaps we can return to Chapel Hill, where we totally do not sound like southerners anyway, and confuse people even more thoroughly by practicing our...British Columbian? Hey, you've gotta have goals for the REST of the season, now that the big adventure is over, right? I'd better go practice...sorry, not sorry!

Vancouver Grand Finale (Part Un)

Our very last day in Vancouver! And keeping with our well-established pattern, it was time to experience the Great Outdoors one more time. Also as usual, Husband researched and selected today's hiking odyssey: Crooked Falls, which lies between Squamish and Whistler, north of the city. He touted it as "similar in intensity and spectacular scenery to the Canyon Rim excursion [we took several days ago]". Translated into Team WestEnders speak, this meant that we should mentally and physically prepare ourselves for several hours of tough trekking.

But first, there was another item on the Must Do List that we absolutely had to check off before we could even consider bidding Canada adieu: a visit to Tim Horton's...or as Derek immediately dubbed it upon entering the country...Timmy Ho's. (Yes, I know it's ridiculous...but somehow all 4 of us found it hilarious...so it became instant family lingo.) As luck would have it, we would pass one on the way out of town, allowing us to procure java and breakfast for the road. Caffeine and calorie needs, met!

Then we settled in for another winding, hilly drive to our destination, just over an hour and a half up Route 99. And for much of that, I'd call it a routine jaunt...albeit with stunning vistas of mountains and Howe Sound off to the left, to help the time fly. However...the final set of directions that Husband had printed from whatever website he used to find our target trail seemed...just a tad...sketchy, let's say. It was all well and good when we turned off the highway onto a regular side road. Then it became a gravel...lane, with one-way bridges, one of which appeared to consist solely of wooden planks nailed together and placed precariously over the water below.

Just when I'd made a joke about "Dad taking us somewhere he could dump our bodies, so they'd never be found" (Don't worry, this is a common expression in our household. It just means a remote location...NOT murderous intentions...) we came upon the sign warning us about...Grizzlies. Oh. Good. Grief. What the HECK were we getting ourselves into? And finally, the instructions told us to "park by the side of the road, and follow the path that began...next to a telephone pole." Oh, because that doesn't sound suspicious at all, right? Suuure, let's march off into the uncharted wilderness, looking like bear food, and act like we know where we're going. What could possibly go wrong?

Yep, that's the...trail...ish...

Well, we were about to find out...since we'd already spent our morning getting there, after all. We grabbed our gear, crossed our fingers, took a deep breath, and headed...straight uphill. As in "legs pumping, heart pounding, breathing too hard to talk". But this certainly isn't anything we haven't done before, so we felt confident we could handle it. That is, until we reached a stony outcropping we had to scale...and I almost suffered a mini-freakout moment. I mean, in my defense, my limbs are significantly shorter than the Male Trios'...and...um...my bulky camera bag sometimes throws off my center of gravity....and, I don't know, maybe I just hadn't fully realized this was going to be THAT kind of stroll. But I'll admit that it took me a minute to wrap my head around the fact that I had to go up and over, figuring out hand and foot holds and pulling myself along...and then I got over myself and did it, and we continued merrily along.
It's a darn good thing, too...because that was just the first--and smallest--pile of boulders we encountered on our little walk in the woods. In some parts, the trail consisted of soft pine needles and dirt...and in others, it would abruptly become a steep field of rocks that we'd have to scramble over, using arms and legs for propulsion and balance. Oh, and even when it was relatively smooth, it was one of those situations where I try diligently NOT to look to the left of the very narrow walkway, at the sheer dropoff that awaits if you slip. New motto for life: eyes forward...and don't look down! (Yeeeaaah, that should be applicable in all kinds of situations, right? Or whatever...)

It was during one of these moments that an uncharitable notion popped into my head...about Husband's questionable choices regarding our recreational activities while we're supposedly ON VACATION, for crying out loud. I swear, no sooner had I acknowledged this thought than he turned around and laughed, "Am I ever going to be allowed to plan our excursions again?" It was eerie, I tell ya. But it didn't stop me from yelling, "Nope! You're totally fired!" (Hmm, not a shining example of marriage conversation, to be sure. But on the plus side, it was probably loud enough to scare off any hungry wildlife. So, you're welcome, fam...)

Except that...only a short time later we came upon a landscape that instantly made the whole thing 100% worth it--a sweeping view of the Squamish Valley that left us practically speechless with awe. And then, about 2 hours after we stepped onto the trail, we achieved the ultimate payoff, when we arrived at the stunning waterfall that lends the hike its name. Bonus: the spray from the rushing, tumbling liquid, combined with the temperature drop from the elevation we'd gained, acted as nature's air-conditioning, and cooled us down nicely after all our effort.

After enjoying the splendor (and equally as appealing, the respite from moving) for a while, we faced our next task...getting all the way back down to the car. (Siiighhhh....) But honestly, it wasn't too bad--especially knowing that every step at that point led us closer to...you guessed it: lunch. Since I had plenty of time to think about it while carefully picking my way downhill, I made the executive decision that we'd try another local institution that we'd heard about, a chain called White Spot. I'd seen one in Squamish during our travels in the morning, so we agreed to give it a shot. The short review: we enjoyed a super-tasty meal, and all gave it a hearty thumbs-up.

From there, believe it or not, we actually had one final stop to make on our way back to the condo. (Because yes, we ARE gluttons for punishment, apparently...) But right now I'm exhausted from all these antics, and we have to get up hella early tomorrow to fly back to the East Coast, so the rest of the tale will have to wait for another day. (Don't hold your breath! I'll get to it soon, I promise!)

Aaannnnd, to be continued...

Hanging out in the Big-V

For our last "urban day" of the vacation, we had an ambitious agenda. (Because why not? Who's tired? Not me! Brought to you by my newly adopted motto: "Just. Keep. Walking...") We kicked off the full day o'fun by revisiting Stanley Park, since we hadn't been able to get to everything we wanted to see the first time we went. We made our way to Lion's Gate Bridge, suspended over the waterway known as the First Narrows, connecting Vancouver and West Vancouver. (Cool side note: it was financed by Guinness...yes, THAT one. Just don't imbibe before driving across, okay?) There's a protected lane in either direction, away from the motor vehicles, for pedestrians or cyclists to use, which is how we found ourselves strolling along, peeking over the edge to see the boats below, and admiring--as always--the majestic mountains around the city.

Next, we wandered along shady paths through the forested portion of the park until we arrived at Beaver Lake...which appeared to consist mostly of lily pads, at this point. According to the informative signs, this is not an illusion; the lake is being reclaimed at a quicker-than-normal rate due to the introduction of those (admittedly lovely) flowers in 1937. While all lakes, evidently, disappear and return to soil eventually, this one might only have an estimated 50 more years before it's gone for good. (See? Nature AND education, a winning combo!)

From there, we headed for another...liquid attraction, if you will...the aquarium that sits inside the park. There we were able to enjoy some air conditioning and a break from the sun--although I probably shouldn't even mention that, because while it was noticeably warmer today than it has been on our trip...it topped out at about 84* (Fahrenheit! Jeez, imagine if that were Celsius? Yeah, we'd all be cooked...) so it actually felt delightful...especially knowing how freakin' hot it reportedly is in NC--and elsewhere on the East Coast--right now.

Anyway, we took in a wide array of exhibits, such as those dealing with local British Columbia sea life, the Tropics, the Amazon rainforest, and one specifically dedicated to frogs. We saw sea lions, a rescued dolphin, penguins, and otters. There were also sharks, anemones, coral, amphibians...and of course, lots of fishies (including those of the "jelly" and "star" variety).

Once we'd had our fill of the fascinating creatures who inhabit the ocean, we decided to use the last of our remaining energy for the day by sight-seeing in the downtown area once more. We didn't really have a firm objective--unless you count searching for souvenirs to commemorate our Canadian adventures. (Yep, sometimes we try to blend in...and other times we're just flat-out tourists, y'all...) This led to us meandering up and down some of the busier streets, looking at all the shops while we soaked up the Vancouver vibe. (Which honestly was kind of like US at the moment: busy, but not in a hurry...a lot going on, but in a relaxed way...if that makes any sense at all...)

Finally we'd had enough ambling for one day, and decided to head back to the car, and return to the condo for what has become our standard "dinner from Chez Safeway". (And can I just mention how much it cracks me up that we came all the way to the West Coast...of Canada...to encounter a supermarket we used to frequent...in Maryland? Is this an example of "small world"? Or just weird coincidence? Whatever, it gets us fed...fairly affordably. Well...I'm making an assumption, here, since who knows, with the conversion? Let's just pretend it's a cheap option, 'kay?)

So, even without hiking, we ended our...questing...with 25,000 steps and 10 miles covered today. As Derek kept pointing out with a snicker, "Just remember, this is our LIGHT day! Tomorrow we'll be back at it, working hard. So rest those legs!" Yeeeahhhh...with the expedition Husband has on tap for tomorrow, maybe I'd better go to bed NOW, and get started on that recovery. Gotta finish strong in the Great White North, right? Zzzzzz....

Bridges and canyons and mountains, oh my...

Today's Vancouver day-tripping had us heading out of the city once more, for another interlude of communing with Mother Nature. First, we stopped at Lynn Canyon, for a hiking excursion through a Canadian rainforest, which Husband promised would include multiple suspension bridges, captivating scenic overlooks...and whatnot.

One of the most striking characteristics of the locale was that, although we were in West Vancouver, a suburb only a few minutes outside the city, once we walked into the woods we were immediately surrounded by massive, ancient-looking trees, gigantic ferns, and an abundance of moss. Seriously, except for the fact that it was cool...and dry...we could have been in Central America. I swear I almost found myself glancing up into the canopy for howler monkeys. (The prevailing noise did not come from primates, though...just some raucous crows).

Unlike the more technically-challenging outing we had a few days ago, this one took place on wide, dirt-and-gravel paths, with the only obstacle being some fairly steep hills that we had to pick our way down or trudge up, on occasion. Oh...and it was pretty looooong. Fortunately, along the way we got to stop and take breathers while admiring the almost ridiculously stunning landscapes--rock formations and soaring mountain peaks and pine-covered inclines and the Seymour River, to name a few.

Standing next to the roots of an enormous fallen tree!

And then, after absorbing all of that clean, crisp, fir-scented air...and trekking for several hours...we headed back to civilization for our reward: lunch at a little eatery called Blvd Bistro. I was slightly hesitant about agreeing to someplace that hyped up its brunch options, since 3 of the main components of breakfast--bacon, bread, and eggs--are not on my personal menu. So imagine my ecstatic state when I spied the Beautiful Buddhist--sauteed kale, grape tomatoes, smoked tofu, mushrooms, potatoes, onions, and garlic, finished with asiago cheese. It normally comes with a poached egg on top, but they agreed to leave that off for me...and It. Was. Delectable.

With full stomachs, we discussed our next move. Since we were pretty much around the corner from another attraction on our To Do list, we hopped back in the car and navigated toward it. However, this was apparently a popular idea for a Summer Saturday afternoon, given the traffic...and full parking lots. We quickly switched to Plan B, which according to Husband, who had done the advance research on this one, was a "short, easy walk" in a nearby provincial park, ending at a salmon hatchery.

Well...some of this was definitely true. For example, we did make our way to Capilano River Park. And there was a very interesting fish farm there. But the stroll part? Another couple of miles--and hours--on already flagging legs (at least for me. But even the boys admitted they were feeling the burn, if you will, from our accumulated efforts over the past several days). Then again, you can't complain about yet another chance to experience gorgeous scenery, right?

After that, we were really, truly finished for the day. (Sitting down! Yay!!) Now we need to focus on nothing more taxing than eating some dinner at the condo, firming up plans for tomorrow...and hitting the sack early. Peace out, West coast Canada and East coast U.S.!

A Day of Downtown Dawdling

During a family...strategy meeting, if you will...Team WestEnders formulated what seemed to us like a reasonable plan of attack for our Vancouver odyssey: alternate days of "exploring the wilderness" and "touring the city". Following this formula, after yesterday's ramble through nature, today we would remain in the...urban jungle (or what have you). Thus we began with a short drive to Stanley Park, an oasis of green space bordering the downtown area. It offers a plethora of trails--both shaded-forest and harbor-view versions--for walkers, bikers, and inline skaters; lush gardens; recreational opportunities like mini-golf and playgrounds; and historic, artistic, and ecological sites of interest...among other things!

Still dragging a bit from our strenuous hike, we warmed up by strolling along the water, admiring the scenery and trying to soak up some sunshine, since it was actually cool enough for long sleeves, and the breeze, in the shade, caused the...ahem..."less hearty" among us (that would be Riley and me) to even shiver periodically. (Not complaining! It's sooooo nice to be outside enjoying the fresh air and NOT dripping sweat and/or wilting in the humidity. We're loving it...)

Along the way, we passed the formation known as Siwash Rock, a 32-million year old "sea stack" (with an inexplicable tree growing out of it...I have no idea why.). According to Squamish legend, it represents a man who was rewarded for his unselfishness by being transformed--and thus immortalized--as the enduring landmark.

From there, we made our way over to Lost Lagoon, a "biofiltration marsh" and bird sanctuary where the tranquil reeds and lily pads contrast sharply with the skyscrapers surrounding it on all sides. Finally, we wandered amongst the stunning array of gorgeous, brilliantly colored blooms on our way back to the car. We already know we have to go back before the end of our vacation, because there were a number of attractions we just didn't get to this time. So it's only "hasta luego" to Stanley Park for a few days.

Shockingly (not) we'd amused ourselves for long enough that it was now...you guessed it...lunchtime. We decided to search for sustenance at the Granville Public Market, a place we'd all read about in our guidebook, which sounded like someplace that could satisfy all of our cuisine cravings. To get there, you cross a bridge to Granville Island...along with about a million other folks who had the same brilliant idea, apparently. Then you jockey for position on narrow, twisty roads that somehow don't seem made for full-sized cars...and yet have to accommodate everything from cyclists to tour buses. If that weren't daunting enough, finding a parking spot is reminiscent of a shopping mall...at Christmastime. Basically, you circle the block (slowly, carefully) until you happen upon someone leaving their space, so you can swoop in and snap it up.

Ay yi yi. But the...pandemonium...doesn't end there. Because of course once you exit your vehicle, you're faced with the hordes of people who obviously traveled there in all of those other automobiles. Lemme tell ya...crowds are not one of our favorite things. But there was food to be obtained, so we remained on-mission, hitched up our big kid pants, and bravely waded into the chaos. Husband and Derek went one way, desiring fish and chips, while Riley and I had our eye on a place that specialized in veggie bowls and salads. We met up again with our meals in hand, to sit outside, appreciate the vista...and defend our tasty morsels from the marauding seagulls who patrolled the patio with military-like vigilance, ready to snatch bites from unsuspecting or inattentive diners.

After our yummy repast, plus some extra time meandering through the unique emporiums filled with everything from the obligatory souvenirs to handmade crafts and one-of-a-kind works of art, we were both satisfied...and worn out. So we agreed to call it a day, and return to home base for a relaxing evening en casa. That is...until I wanted to step out for one last (theoretically) brief jaunt, and find the pedestrian path our AirBnB hostess had mentioned in her welcome materials. This turned out to be interesting enough that I continued far longer than I'd planned...but I got some nice Vancouver character photos, so it was worth the additional steps...and drained legs.

Now it's really time to give it a rest, because you know what tomorrow brings: more of the Great Outdoors. And with that...goodnight...eh?

Venturing out of Vancouver

Today's adventure--on our first full day in Vancouver--involved a hefty commute (of sorts) and a whole lotta tromping around in Mother Nature's playground. First of all, we had to pack up for our many planned hours in the Great Northwestern Canada Outdoors. (Whew, that's a mouthful...eh? Sorry, couldn't help myself...) So we dressed for 20 degrees (Celsius, pretending like we know what that means), and brought layers for the possibility of colder and/or wetter conditions. (We call this the Rocky Mountain Protocol, after we learned our lesson the hard, miserable way last year!)

Then we piled into our borrowed vehicle and began our trek to Whistler, about 121 kilometers (sigh...again with the perfectly reasonable yet incomprehensible metric units) up Route 99. Almost immediately upon leaving the confines of the city, the vibe changed from "hip metropolitan" to "this is the wilderness for real, folks, so keep your eyes on the road, slow down on the (myriad) curves, prepare for popping ears...oh yeah, and watch for bears". Fortunately, all of this came with absolutely spectacular landscapes, which we enjoyed ogling during our journey.

So, finding the mountain was easy-peasy, as it's directly off the highway, and clearly marked by helpful signage. However, Husband had specifically chosen one particular trail for our wandering and vista-viewing entertainment, which turned out to require following a narrow, unpaved, pitted path...basically until the Altima couldn't manage it anymore, and we were forced to pull over, park it, and continue on foot.

Thus commenced the "uphill climb" portion of the festivities...and by that, I do mean head down, weight on toes, lean forward, plow up the slope with determination and focus...for quite a while. It was hard work, is all I'm saying--but we appreciated the cool, dry, breezy weather, the stunning beauty and peaceful stillness of the forest, and the fact that we hardly saw anyone else for the entire duration of our excursion!

Our ultimate destination was Logger Lake, a serene body of water nestled in the crater of an extinct volcano. Along the way, we were lulled by the hypnotic whooshing of the Cheakamus River (whose rapidly rushing current seemed both impressive and...somewhat terrifying to us non-kayakers), soothed by the crisp, clean, naturally pine-scented atmosphere, and wowed by the soaring, snow-capped peaks towering over us on all sides. It was everything a walk in the woods should be: pleasantly tiring, satisfyingly scenic, and sufficiently challenging.

In fact, as usual, the way DOWN proved more difficult, since it required picking one's way over rocks and tree roots with already-weary legs, while minding the steep incline...and of course trying not to fall forward and land on your face, or worse yet, bounce and roll to the bottom of the hill. But hey, it always feels like such an accomplishment when we all make it back to the car unscathed, you know?

Although it felt amazing simply to sit down after our 5-ish mile jaunt, it was even better to travel a short distance to Whistler Village, where we could tackle our next objective: a well-earned LUNCH. The town itself sits at the base of Whistler and Blackcomb peaks, and is adorable--filled with shops and restaurants crafted in the style of Swiss chalets. Also, copious amounts of both pedestrians...and cyclists, since during the warm months, the resort repurposes the ski lifts to run riders and their bikes up to the top, so the thrill-seekers can then whiz back down on 2 wheels. As for us, we opted to dine at a bakery/cafe called Hot Buns (juvenile snicker), where we procured delicious paninis to appease our rumbling stomachs.


Thus fortified, we meandered up and down the sidewalks, checking out souvenir and tourist opportunities, such as the monument commemorating the 2010 Winter Olympics, some of whose events occurred right there at Whistler. We'd almost had our fill of sightseeing for one day; a single item remained to check off our list. So it was back on the road for a couple of minutes, before we exited at Brandywine Falls. Once there, we took the short stroll (500 meters--don't ask me, it took maybe 5 minutes) to the overlook platform, where we were able to gaze out upon the majestic waterfall, cascading 70 meters (aargh, let me look it up...okay, about 230 feet) down into a pool below.

And with that, all of our athletic, fresh-air, and nature-worshipping goals had officially been met. And whattya know...it was almost time to eat again anyway. So we headed back to Vancouver to figure out our next meal, plan our upcoming outing(s), wash off the day's dust...and schedule in some much-needed and deserved rest and recovery time! Tomorrow's agenda: LESS than 10 miles and 25,000 steps, pleaseandthankyou!

NC to Seattle to Vancouver, BC

Well, folks, today the moment Team WestEnders has been awaiting for months, with breathless anticipation, finally arrived. That's right, at long last it was officially, time to commence Operation Escape to Canada. And let me tell ya...it got underway disturbingly early...as in "waking up to an alarm at 4:54 a.m." (because I requested 4:50, but Husband was being a wiseass when setting the time and announced that "it sounded good". Unfortunately, this didn't change the fact that it was still ridiculously too-damn-dark to get out of bed...)

The only good thing about being up and about at that unholy hour was that the traffic on the way to the airport was almost non-existent. This turned out to be very lucky indeed, since when we rolled in, running ahead of schedule, for once in our lives, we screeched to a halt at the sight of a monstrous security line that wrapped all the way around the terminal--something we'd never experienced in our 5 years of flying out of RDU thus far. But, the TSA seemed to have it well under control, and shepherded us through with admirable speed and efficiency. I only mention this because I was so freaking grateful to have ample time remaining before boarding to stop by Starbucks and get the most-Venti cup of blessed caffeine they offer. (Aaaahhh, and then I was ready to roll...)

Once aboard the plane (side note: we'd already been awake for over 2-1/2 hours by this point, which is just so wrong, on so many levels) we discovered that--although they'd somehow assigned us 4 seats that weren't even a LITTLE bit together--at least we had one of those fancy jets with built-in screens for each passenger to watch movies and whatnot. I selected Ant Man and the Wasp because I trusted that Marvel would never steer me wrong. And while the flick was undeniably amusing, as expected...5 hours on an airplane is a looooong time, ya'll. You want proof? The cabin crew even had time to provide TWO snacks and drinks. (Whoo hoo, extra almonds/Cheez-Its/cookies/Kind bars!

We made it through the first leg of our journey with just enough time to hustle to another part of the (Seattle) airport and catch our second flight. Or so we believed--but in reality, we boarded the aircraft, got settled in for the brief hop over to Vancouver...and then listened to an apologetic announcement from the captain, about how we were expected to be delayed on the tarmac...for an hour. Grr...

Eventually, though, we did take off, spend approximately 30 minutes in the sky, and then land in our great neighbor to the north...where, if the combination of a 3-hour time difference and the fact that we'd now been on the move for about 11 hours weren't confusing enough, our weary brains immediately became even more befuddled by the onslaught of French...plus metric measurements everywhere. Gas is 1.34 (Canadian dollars) per liter...I don't know what any of that means! Aargh, and about the currency! Do I even want to know how much things cost? (Let's just be safe and go with "probably not." And also "we're on vacation, so try not to fret too much about it".) Next, we'll have to drive so-and-so kilometers per hour...which I have no idea how to convert, since I'm an ignorant imperial-system-using American! And the temperature in Celsius? Don't get me started on "multiply by 9/5 and add 32", 'cuz...just too much mental math. But wait...they use the 24-hour clock? Finally, something I can translate!

Anyway, by divine intervention, or some such nonsense, we managed to obtain our rental car and navigate to our AirBnB. It was now late afternoon, local time, and we hadn't eaten a true meal all day, so the first priority became "finding actual food". Husband did the Googling on this one, and presented an option called Tractor, a small chain that serves "healthy, fresh, and unique salads, soups, sandwiches, and stews". Um...yes, please! (I had Southwestern quinoa and Asian veggie noodles over mixed greens, with grilled avocado...which tasted just as good as it looked, and was a total WIN!)

Then, since we'd already paid to park the car and had some time left, and we seemed to be in a hopping commercial district with lots of other pedestrians, we decided to explore on foot. Initial impressions of Vancouver: it has a bustling urban presence, varied and interesting architecture...and of course, some stores that we don't see in the States (such as Sport Chek, which reminded us of Dick's Sporting Goods...but with tons more hockey paraphernalia, not surprisingly).

And speaking of shopping, we needed to locate a supermarket where we could stock up on some provisions for the house. An online search for the nearest one, with a focus on "natural foods" turned up Urban Fare...which we instantly dubbed "Canadian Whole Foods" upon entering the front door (making it a logical place to fulfill our culinary demands). After our foraging, we found ourselves near a scenic waterfront, in a section called Yaletown, and meandered on the walking/biking path for a while, appreciating the refreshingly cool weather--about 20 degrees less than at home! (And no, I didn't figure it out--my phone's weather app told me. It may be cheating...but I'm tired, and besides, I'm totally okay with letting a computer do the work for me...)


To sum up: it was a thoroughly delightful introduction to Vancouver. Now we're going to try to get some sleep, to reset the old body clocks as quickly as possible. After all, we've got places to go and things to do...even if we have no earthly clue how far away they are, how fast to drive the car to get there...or how expensive they may end up being! So, we may be a hot mess right now, but--hopefully after a restful night--prepare yourselves, British Columbia, for a (completely friendly) Team WestEnders invasion...

More Triangle Tourist...ing

Part 2 of the Extended-Fam Shenanigans centered around field trips to points of interest in our friendly neighbor of Durham. As I mentioned in my last post, the first stop was Duke University, where the fangirl also known as my sister could...I don't know...squeal a lot and take a million photos, I guess. We began with the mandatory perusal of the bookstore (which contained nothing nearly as amusing as the cuddly bio-themed toys at UNC...I'm just sayin'...) and purchasing of yet more items of apparel and whatnot with the school logo (for the visitors, obviously...not those who support the local rival).

When we finally escaped, we trooped over to the chapel (a gorgeous, soaring, stained-glass filled must-see, I'll admit), where as my brother tells it, the most thrilling moment occurred when we were "kicked out" for misbehaving. Truth: we were politely asked to move back away from the alter area, because a group of kids was apparently "rehearsing" for something or other.

And then--even though we didn't expect to have a whole lot of success, given our past attempts--we dutifully trekked to Cameron Indoor Stadium, presumably so my sibling could reverently touch the exterior wall, take the same selfie she always does, in front of the sign, and bemoan the fact that we're not allowed into the actual building. But...miracle of miracles...when we pulled half-heartedly on the outer door...it opened! I thought my sis was going to faint right there, but she pulled it together enough to breach the inner sanctum--where she promptly began flitting amongst the exhibits and madly snapping away with her phone camera (and occasionally letting out a delighted giggle...or squeak).

Well...no one had come to bounce us yet, so we continued to test what we could get away with...I mean "explore". (Honestly, we figured this was probably due to the fact that we'd seen copious numbers of what appeared to be sports camp attendees...with which we were obviously not affiliated. But in a crystal clear moment of family unity, we came to the unspoken agreement that if we weren't gonna get in trouble...we were gonna continue to push our luck! And this should come as a surprise to...yeah, absolutely no one...) So, there were staircases that had nothing preventing access...and up we went. Aaannnnd then we were actually on the court level, but the openings through which you could reach the seats were blocked by hanging sheets of rubber, stating "Practice in Session, Keep Out".


Ahem...by peeking surreptitiously around one of these, we determined that the floor was in fact unoccupied at the moment...and whattya know, one of the entrances was completely unobstructed, so it definitely signaled that we should sneak in and take a look. (We're such rebels, right? Sure, we'll go with that...) After my sister thoroughly documented the experience to her satisfaction, we vacated the premises, because we did need to move on to our next event: Durham Bulls baseball. (The fun never ends around here, I tell ya...)

Although it had been a scorcher of a day, the sun was mercifully on its way down by gametime, so we gratefully collapsed in our seats and settled in for the evening's entertainment. We almost got more than we bargained for, however, as the contest got a bit wild in the later innings. Lots of runs, pitching changes, tie scores--and even the threat of extra innings, which was narrowly averted when the home team went ahead for good in the bottom of the 8th. This was critical, since it had already been a loooong slugfest....and there were fireworks still to come!

The next day our weary clan understandably agreed to keep it low-key, with the highlight of excitement being several restaurant trips. One of these was to...Bojangles, if you can believe it. You see, my younger nephew had gotten it in his head that this was some kind of required North Carolina thing, and no matter how much we tried to dissuade him (or convince him otherwise), he would not be deterred from his mission. (Of course, I excused myself from this...culinary adventure? Reportedly, the rest of them enjoyed it.) We also dined at a local eatery that no one except Derek had ever patronized before: Hickory Tavern (where again, a tasty meal was had by all).

Finally, for our last hurrah, if you will, I proposed a foray to the Museum of Life and Science. Not only had Team WestEnders only been there once before, 5 years ago during the very first Summer we lived in Chapel Hill, but the weather forecast was calling for beastly temperatures approaching triple-digits, and we desperately craved some INDOOR amusement. Therefore we loaded up two vehicles and caravaned our way to Durm yet again, where we...basically indulged our inner "big kids" by investigating all the interactive displays and super-cool educational materials. C'mon...climbing in treehouses, admiring lovely butterflies, watching bears and wolves (with pups!) and lemurs (oh my! sorry...), and finishing with a stroll through a field of mist...what's not to love?

Alas, all good things must come to an end...and it was time to bid our northern relatives adieu, so they could tackle their destiny...um...the 85/95 odyssey...and return to Maryland. But man, did we pack a whole lot o'frolicking into this 4-day weekend, y'all! For now, it's "so long"...until the next time we reunite...in December...and perhaps we can look forward to hot chocolate, rather than "melted humans"--ha! (Fingers crossed...)

Invaders from the North!

While I don't recall the exact circumstances of the conversation, several months ago my sister and I happened to be lamenting the utterly woeful state of our favorite Major League team, the Baltimore Orioles. At some point during our commiseration, I jokingly suggested that if she wanted to see some quality baseball for a change, she could come visit us, and we'd go to a Durham Bulls game. (Although they're only AAA-level [affiliated with the Tampa Bay Rays] they consistently lead their division...and at least win more games than they lose, which is a HUGE improvement over the Os...)

Her lighthearted reply of "I just might do that!" immediately inspired me to look up the schedule, specifically focusing on when the Bulls and rival Norfolk Tides would face each other--so we could treat our potential guests to a minor league version of the Rays versus Orioles. I discovered that the two teams would meet...in NC...on a weekend...only one time during the Summer, giving us a single shot to pull this scheme together. And with that information, an Extended WestEnders Plan began to take shape.


It quickly ballooned into a full-blown...Southern Campaign...in which my sister, brother, and his 3 kids would road-trip down together (in a rented tank...um "Tahoe") and stay with us for 4 days. Since it would be their first "taste of the Triangle", if you will, we wanted to have enough time to show them some of our favorite spots, and for them to hopefully get a full appreciation of our lovely area and all it has to offer.

With that in mind, we hit the ground running shortly after they carefully navigated the ginormous SUV up our driveway on Friday at lunchtime. After some sustenance and catch-up chatting, we decided to kick off the festivities with the requisite Chapel Hill/Carrboro Walking Tour. This involves parking in a (free!) garage, and then strolling the length of Franklin Street, down to the University of North Carolina's campus at the opposite end. Along the way there's always ample opportunity for people-watching (although the coeds are away until next month, there are tourists or groups of potential students milling around at all times), window-shopping (at the quirky boutiques and fan-gear stores that abound up and down the street)...and in this case, beverage-purchasing, since it felt like, oh, approximately 142 degrees with the combined heat and humidity of the afternoon.

Yet we persevered, braving the sweaty conditions and continuing to march resolutely along like we were a troop of explorers...on some kind of assigned mission. Fortunately, we reached the shady grounds of UNC without anyone fainting from heat exhaustion or dehydration, and we rallied when we were able to duck underneath the tall, stately trees and get a break from the relentless sun. Then I led the gang ("And we're walking--no, we're walking THIS WAY. Pay attention!") over to the Old Well, whose historical significance I'd been sharing to those who would listen, and we politely asked other non-native strangers to take our picture in front of the iconic landmark.

Next...I'm not sure who it was...but someone made a fatal error (Okay, okay, it might have been me...) by mentioning that one could, theoretically, reach the football venue by continuing to follow our current path and cutting across campus. Well, my older nephew's eyes lit up like sparklers on the 4th of July, and that was all it took for this to become our next target. But along the way, we luckily had to pass by the bookstore, which not only is filled with interesting and sometimes hilarious swag representing the university...but also offers the blessed relief of air conditioning for as long as we chose to linger and browse.

Now, bear with me here for a tangential, PG-13 moment: during Team WestEnders' initial foray into this establishment 5 years ago, one of the very first items that we stumbled upon was a rack full of...stuffed...viruses and other medical whatnot. I'm not kidding--they're fuzzy, brightly colored, and range from super-geekily-cool (the flu, e. coli, a brain cell), to mildly inappropriate (a sperm and egg) to...downright NSFW, like...herpes...and "the clap", if you can believe it. I'll give you ONE guess as to where my beloved fam immediately gravitated? Yep, my younger nephew grabbed a cute, furry specimen, glanced at the tag, and in a totally not-using-your-inside-voice instant, gleefully yelled, "Hey, I found chlamydia!"

Oh, for the love of...I swear, this caused me an internal struggle: whether I was more horrified...or secretly pleased that our public school education apparently teaches them how to both read and pronounce the names of common STIs accurately. ("The more you know...?" Whatever...) Meanwhile, the rest of us vigorously shushed him, while also furtively glancing around to see if anyone else in the place had heard his outburst and was giving us the stink eye...and slapping our foreheads. (No one seemed to notice or care, thank goodness...which leads me to suspect that this might actually be a regular occurrence.)

I, myself, had a brief impulse to sidle away and lose myself among the racks of clothing, pretending I'd never seen these people before--but it wouldn't have worked anyway, since they kept following me. And obviously, for the rest of the day, no matter what we might be doing or where we were at the time, there would be an occasional...I don't know...battle cry?...of "chlamydia!" interjected loudly and nonsensically into conversation. Siiighhhh....and can I just say it's no wonder the cousins get along like gangbusters, since they're all apparently BIG HONKING GOOBERHEADS...)


Anyway, after that little episode, we completed our promised pilgrimage to Kenan Memorial Stadium, to gaze upon the Carolina-blue seats and brand new turf they've just installed for the upcoming season. Once the sports fans were satisfied, we proceeded to hike back to the car and return home to chill for the rest of the evening, with some television and local pizza (Mellow Mushroom, which I realize is a chain, but we count it anyway, since it's fancier and less common than, say, Domino's or Papa John's).

So, I'd have to conclude that we successfully conquered the hometown(s), which was vitally important, since I'd promised my sister some extra time in Durham the next day before our baseball outing, so she could make her spiritual journey to...that other school we don't talk about, which starts with a "D". Yep, I def needed a good night's sleep before that, for sure! Peace out, Chapelboro...

Summer Shenanigans...for Big Kids

I always say--laughing, but not really joking--that I must have been one of the original people who got into "cross-training". Honestly, it kind of happened...accidentally-on-purpose: when I was in college, had already been a jogger for 5 years or so, and realized that if I wanted to, you know, be able to WALK for the rest of my life, I'd better figure out alternatives besides pounding the pavement every day. So, I started mixing in some biking, strength training, hiking...basically any kind of activity that met the "exercise" criteria and kept me from getting bored, without trashing my joints.

Fast forward to the present, (mumble mumble number of) years later, and this formula still works for me--plus it offers the possibility of new, fresh, and exciting experiences, such as the weekly bootcamp sessions I joined two years ago, and have come to love (and not JUST because of the coffee and breakfast at Whole Foods with the crew afterwards--ha!). More recently, I joined up with an ongoing "pub run", in which the participants meet at a local watering hole, head out for a 3 or 5 mile loop around Chapel Hill and UNC, then re-convene for stretching and a cold beverage of choice when finished. It's just another way to get some social time with lovely people...and also serves as motivation to put in an effort and get the steps in, especially on the steamy Summer evenings when you know the actual "outdoor" part is likely to...um..."suck".

So at one of these meetups in June, our fearless leader waved some business cards around and announced, "Here's an offer for 4 weeks of free workouts! Who wants one?" When queried, she admitted that she didn't have a ton of information, other than that it was a bootcamp-style deal, led by a trainer, and you could choose your location from a variety of parks in and around the area, and also select a time that fit your schedule. Well...suuuuure...sounds...I don't know...potentially interesting? Anyway, there was literally nothing to lose, so I decided to give it a try--after all, if I hated it, I was under no obligation whatsoever to continue showing up, right?

I've gotta tell ya, though, I did find the name somewhat intimidating: Camp Gladiator. I mean, I'm all for...encouraging my...inner warrior, or whatever...but I wasn't quite sure I was ready for anything that alluded to...BATTLE...so I just crossed my fingers, and hoped it wouldn't come to that. Once I selected my preferred site and hour-long slot, I dutifully filled out the (fairly detailed) form asking all about my fitness habits, goals, and challenges. I then immediately began receiving texts and emails from the instructor who'd be running our particular group, full of helpful details, cheerful chatter, and...general peppiness.

Even though I was definitely wondering by this point what the HECK I'd gotten myself into, I took this as a sign that it would be embarrassingly wimpy to back out now. Frankly, I had concerns...which mainly fell into two categories: A) that it would prove to be too difficult...or B-1) that everyone there would be decades younger than me, leading to B-2) me feeling like a fool. But hey, what's the worst that could happen? Hmm....I fake an injury and sneak away, never to show my face again? Yep, that'll do! Thus armed with my brilliant Exit Strategy, I grabbed my mat, dumbbells, and water, and went to face the music.

As it turned out, our coach was even more welcoming, enthusiastic, and friendly in person, which went a long way toward putting me at ease. (Others in our small gang already seemed to know her from previous sessions, but she quickly made everyone feel included.) She assured us that the format was meant to be completely self-guided, such that the rule for each exercise was simply "do what you can, in the time we have, with modifications as necessary or desired". Cool, I can totally roll with that. While she put us through the paces, she also kept up a pleasantly distracting light conversation--I suspect mainly to take some of the focus off the disgusting heat and humidity. (Topics included "What TV shows do you like?" and then towards the end "What's everyone making for dinner?")

The individual exercises were absolutely doable--standard stuff like squats, jumping jacks, side lunges, pushups. In fact, I encountered only one minor glitch--and I have no one to blame but myself, for getting all "Hey, this is going great! I'm handling all of it! Look at me, I'm one...badass chick!" Yeeeaahhh, about that: remember my unwanted visitor, the obnoxious and persistent affliction known as "plantar fasciitis"? Since it graced me with its presence, I've been limiting my weekly running to the Wednesday night club, plus one more short outing, at least 3 or 4 days later. But the proposed gladiator-plan for the evening called for laps around the grounds...to warm up, and in-between sets of exercises. Now, of course our trainer said we could walk...but my foot wasn't hurting at the time...and given options, I'm usually going to choose the faster one. 

So I trotted...which actually was fine, during the session. (Well, except for the harsh reality that every single circuit felt longer and harder, due to the oppressive Heat Index of like, pfftt, approximately 90,000 degrees? Brutal, I tell ya...) And it was still okay later that night. Aaaannd even the next day...which prompted me to make the executive decision that I could handle the usual 5K-ish pub run route. BUT...thanks to that ill-advised bit of hubris, I abruptly discovered afterwards that certain physical skills had become impossible for me...such as touching any part of my left heel to the ground...or walking without a pronounced limp. Oops. Guess that definitively answers the question of whether it's too soon to test the foot, yeah? Noted. (Ouch...)

Therefore, I will be going back for more...skirmishing...next week, but I'll be prudent and (siiiighhh) stick to power-walking the path after each round--to ensure that I can attend and participate in the following evening's festivities as well. Because the pub run guru greeted me last week not with "Hello" but rather, "Only one more check-in until you earn your free beer!" And if that's not a super-fantastic reason to lace up the sneakers and put in 30 minutes or so of hard labor, I don't know what is, y'all. Here's to fun workouts with delightful folks...and complimentary adult bevs! Whoo hoo!