Tag Archives: traveller

Bowen Island

Bowen Island is just off Vancouver, about a fifteen or twenty minute ferry trip away.

I’d heard about it from my mum’s friend who used to live there, but I was seriously under-prepared for how beautiful it was going to be.  Words, and pictures, cannot describe it.

 

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These photos are from May, but it felt like the middle of summer.

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If I could go anywhere to retire, it would be Bowen Island.

I’d own a boat, and drink coffee and read on my deck all day (because it would never rain, of course).

 

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Alta Lake, frozen.

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When we first got to Whistler and were staying at the hostel, we walked past this lake every day on our way to the village.  Since we moved into the house, it’s no longer on our route, so we hadn’t been back since.  When I was offered a half day at work yesterday (while I was actually at work), I decided to take it for once, and we used the afternoon to walk to the lake (on our way to our post box, the bank and post office).
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I had to get another photograph of Jay here, as I have one of her in this spot before the lake froze (in this post).  You can also see me leaning on those handles in my current blog header.

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Jay took off right into the middle of the lake, whereas I was quite tentative as the edges were slushy, and really, it doesn’t feel right to walk on a lake.  Anyway, I felt less nervous when I saw a group of teenagers playing ice hockey in the centre.

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When I first glanced at this, I thought it was a sailing boat that had been left without its moorings and had then become frozen into the lake.  Once I saw it moving it became clear that it is some kind of cool ice boat thing.  That’s as far as my knowledge on that goes.

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Aside from seeing the lake in a totally different way than it was the last time I was there, it felt pretty awesome to have my camera back out again after more than a month.

On an unrelated note, Jay broke her leg five weeks ago.  She’s doing pretty well to be walking on an icy lake, eh?

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Oh, the suspense(ion bridge)

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).

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