Whistler Day 1
it’s whistler time, hombres! yesterday katie & i headed to where the hills are alive with the sound of musak. but our greyhound only left at 1pm so i spent the morning cycling around stanley park in downtown vancouver. i biked along the sea wall, going past harbours and piers, under the lion’s gate bridge, past beach 2 and beach 1, english bay, all the way to BC Place, then through gastown, and up granville back to davie to my bike rental joint. i had my tunes blaring on my speakers (‘natch!), the sun was shining brilliantly and i worked up such a sweat, that bugs from stanley park’s trees were sticking to my flesh as they whizzed into me.
grabbed my shit from the hostel, waited for the city bus for TWENTY BLOODY MINUTES just to take me to the greyhound station on main street (if this was toronto, that bus driver would be OUT OF A JOB), met katie, and boarded the 2-nothing-hour bus to the Peak-Season, Olympic-Death village.
the bus follows the infamous Sea To Sky highway. behold!
this is our hostel in Whistler, it sits upon Alta Lake just outside Whistler Village.
this is our hostel’s backyard. BE JEALOUS!
clear, cold, cool, clean, crisp
there’s a fly on my nipple. there’s always a first for everything
the ski slopes half melted on blackcomb
even though i had biked my quads into lactic-acidosis in the morning in vancity, we still rented bikes from our hostel and zoomed into the whistler village….look, we’re in front of the world-renowned gordon-ramsay-approved, Araxi resto!!! hell’s kitchen huzzah!
yum yum gimmee sum
i can see some tricep definition!
our cycling took a tedious 45 minutes uphill climb toll on us, so we chowed down immediately
i am infamous for my intolerant crankyness if i don’t get my chai soy latte. i had like 30 teas, weeing clear fluids again
i ordered the garden burger with caramelized onions (no bun, no unnecessary carbs) and sunflower-pumpkin seed salad
franky had the salmon risotto with honey-glazed veggies (i wanted her cauliflower but she wouldn’t budge)
stag par-teh like something out of my dreams
i dared him to, his mates forced him to
never ask me to sign anything bro
stag party or fashion victim?
so after din-din, we were told we could hop on the bus with our bikes (after the 45 minute ass-ownage of a few hours prior). so we wait for almost an hour for the bus (the number 23 alta vista bus that only runs 4 TIMES A DAY BECAUSE CIVILIZATION CEASES TO EXIST BEYOND VANCOUVER), finally it arrives, and it only has 2 racks out front for bikes, which was full! so we ask politely if we can bring them on the bus which was half empty as the rest of the passengers said they didn’t mind.
bus driver with a god complex and halitosis screams at us to get off, that he’ll call the police if we try to board.
so i politely try to reason with him. it’s dark outside, we’re 2 females alone in the city, the bicycle path back to the hostel isn’t lit, there’s no lights on our bikes, and this is the last bus of the night.
can you please call your manager and ask permission, i’m sure there’s an exception to every rule
I’M NOT GOING TO LOSE MY JOB FOR YOU!
can you please just call him?
he pretends to call, says there’s no answer, then smugly goes “okay bye!” and slams the bus doors on our faces.
so we had to pile our bikes into a taxi and pay for it with money we didn’t have.
and we beat the fucking bus back to the hostel.
i tried calling the whistler transit system customer service line, no one answered obviously, so i left a message that no one returned.
if you go to whistler, don’t use their joke of a transit system. they obviously think women travellers alone at night are expendable, and cyclists don’t have any right to public transit.
so it was a great first day in whistler, with a peppering of gluteous-maximus-carnage and bus-driver-fuckery.
today was amazeballs, i survived whitewater rafting. photos tomorrow!