That was a bad title. Forgive me.
We went on another little adventure, this time to Whistler Interpretive Forest.
How many ways can you interpret a forest?
I heard that there was a suspension bridge somewhere in this forest, and knew I wanted to go, so we gathered the troops and set off in our new boots that pinch, and backpacks full of snacks.
The hike through the forest was exhilarating. Yep, I just described a hike using a positive word. Perhaps I am speaking prematurely, and as a total novice, but I’m kind of loving hiking. We haven’t done anything very challenging; just forests, trails and off the official walking paths, but I love it. Since we got here (almost a month ago, seriously, how is that possible?), we have done a lot more walking than usual, and after the first week of doing the valley trail twice a day, forty-five minutes each way to the village and back, I have noticed my fitness levels increasing. At one point during our hike through the Interpretive Forest, I was powering up a steep hill and thought to myself “I’m not out of breath, I’m not struggling, I’m not even tempted to stop for a rest,” and it was the best feeling. I was running on a total buzz.
The last stretch before the bridge was all uphill though, and I was glad to sit on a rock and catch my breath. Still a novice, remember.
The bridge was smaller than I expected (perhaps because my only other experience of a suspension bridge is Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge), but as soon as I stepped on it and it started swaying and jumping under me, it felt long enough.
Cheakamus Canyon River was roaring below us. As I crossed, holding on to the sides felt redundant, ’cause lets face it, if the whole thing snaps, holding on to the wire mesh isn’t going to make much difference.
This girl loves to frighten me by getting as close to the edge of any precipice she can find. It may not look it in this shot, but there is quite a drop there.
We walked back on the other side of the river, which was an entirely different walk.
There I am, standing on a big rock, holding an apple core. There were (obviously) no rubbish bins in the forest, and you can’t leave any food traces here because it attracts bears. (Not that I’m a litterer anyway, but I’m used to leaving biodegradable products as gifts to small animals)
Yarn bombing on a bridge. I’ve seen a few things yarn-bombed around here, like this bike rack at Function Junction:
I’m loving all our wee days out. Next stop: the ghost town (if we can find it).