A Day in Whistler

My host, Sara, was incredible. She consciously created a lifestyle that she believes in, loves her life, and is working to make her home in Whistler a better place. She has bucked society's definition of success and achieved it on her own terms. That's what I admire most.

Not only that, but she makes a mean blueberry waffle in the morning.

To my surprise, I woke up before eight o'clock the morning after I arrived in Whistler to the happy sound of one-year-old laughter. Sara had waffle batter ready, and she was playing with her son in their living room. I used her internet, made a phone call and chatted a bit with the other cyclist staying with Sara. Then we all took off in different directions for the day.

I headed for the mountains, and followed a trail that Sara recommended. I came through Whistler because of its fame as a ski town...even though it was summer (and I'm not much of a skier anyway), I wanted to see what the trails had to offer.

They didn't disappoint. I followed the Rainbow Lake Trail up out of town. It climbed about 1000 meters up to a beautiful alpine lake. It was a bit much for my body after the previous day's ride: hiking up there was hard work! But the view from the lake was worth it.



The view from a small ridge above Rainbow Lake near Whistler.

The lake is just below treeline, allowing for great views of the surrounding valleys and mountains through gaps in the trees or high points that protrude above the trees. I could see glaciers and snow through the trees and I longed to run the surrounding alpine ridges...accept that my legs weren't really up for it. I restrained from swimming in the lake out of respect for posted regulations: apparently, Rainbow Lake is the source of drinking water for Whistler. I sat around for a spell, then headed back down the hill.

I made a detour on my way back to Sara's to swim in one of Whistler's lakes, and was pleasantly surprised to find her and her son enjoying the lake shore as well. When all three of us were done at the beach, Sara packed her son into her bike trailer, and gave me a tour of the Whistler lakes on the way back to her house.

That night, Sara, the other cyclist and I stayed up and talked. The others' travels dwarfed my own: they told stories of cycling through Asia and Jordan, and traveling through Morocco. At some point, I explained that I was headed to grad school in San Fransisco to study energy resource engineering. "Oh," Sara said, as though I was like many people she'd met before: young and ambitious, and wasting time in school. What a different reaction from the last environmentalist I talked to (the woman who actually hugged me). I honestly don't know which reaction is more appropriate. For environmentalists, Sara's is more typical.

Eventually we went to bed, and in the morning we all took off again on our own missions. But before I headed south, I took a cruise through downtown Whistler. There was a mountain bike festival going on, and it felt like Skagway on a three ship day. The streets (which only allow pedestrian traffic) were packed with people carrying expensive bikes, and the beautifully crafted buildings glistened with souvenirs, outdoor gear, and finely served meals. Unfortunately, the competition hadn't started yet when I left town, but I got to see the jumps and routes the bikers ride down the dry ski slopes. They must be incredible athletes.

 It occurred to me that Whistler is an outdoor town, but designed for people that want to visit the outdoors as a recreation facility rather than a place to live. Sara bucked that trend and embraced another side of Whistler, the side where people live there to be close to the bears and trees. Beyond that, she works to help the forgotten people in the community, strives to think globally as she develops her own life, and lives to be happy without being distracted by all the fanfare that surrounds her. I wouldn't want to live in Whistler...but I would be proud to live like Sara.