5 - Wild Fires and Rope Swings

I woke this morning feeling rather content with the sleep I had, even with the pitter-patter of rain hitting my tent fly all night. My little campsite was under some good tree cover and Colin actually slept in thinking it was still dark and early morning; my plan had worked! We packed up our little site and made our way back north to Whistler Village to walk around and do the touristy thing for a bit. This whole area had been massively built up for the 2010 Winter Olympics and while it was still busy with downhill riders a few weeks back when I visited, we had now fallen into the shoulder season. There were so many shops around, and restaurants, and bars, and cafes, and most of them were quite empty. Things will pick up again in a month or so when the snow begins to hit. Whistler really is a beautiful place, albeit a bit touristy for me, but I could see myself doing a summer season out here biking.

Ooops, didn't see this sign the other night

Gondola selfie

This house is insane in the Brio area of Whistler

After a walk around the village still wearing my riding pants, rain liner in, I was sweating pretty well. Back at the bikes in the middle of the market we sat on a curb and made some wraps with unrefrigerated, sweaty cheese, and lettuce that was questionable at best. Dragging on a rollie, some folks shot us suspicious looks; this was more my style.

We rode back to the south side of town where I took Colin up a pretty knarly logging road to Loggers Lake where I had a killer thrill lined up for us. We hiked along the lake until we came to a real sketchy looking platform about 5 meters above the ground. With the base on a steep bank the platform was a good 10 meters or so above the water. The rope was only accessible using a long grabbing stick and hanging precariously from the edge of a tree by the water, then pulling it up and climbing the single-nailed steps up the tree with one hand and onto said sketchy platform. Oh, did I mention that we also had a run in with a wild fire? I’ll come back to the rope swing in a minute.

As we hiked around the lake a bit to get to the base of the rope swing we saw smoke – that shouldn’t be. It looked like someone had a fire here the night before and didn’t do a proper job of putting it out. Never mind the fact that there was a fire ban and there shouldn’t have been a first the first place, but come on, clean up after yourself. There was no flame, but two meters or so in diameter was smouldering and spreading. It must have been a good sized fire for a long while as the heat was really deep in the roots. The base of a nearby tree was burnt and smoking as well.

The burn we came across

We didn’t have anything with us to fight the spread so I got on the phone with BC Wildfires and Colin sought help from some hikers on the other side of the lake. It turned out to be a mountain guide and his two guests. The guide pulled a sil-nylon tarp out of his day pack and we climbed down the bank to fill it with water. It was quite the haul up the steep, dirt bank before dropping the gallons on the burn. Man, that heat was deep. We must have dumped fifty gallons of water and it was still hot and smoking, but at least not spreading anymore. While waiting for someone to come take over the situation Colin and I took the opportunity to take the rope swing for a spin.

Pictures of the rope swing to come

The rope swing was mad. Here’s what I wrote about it when I was out here a few weeks back:

“One step at a time, I climb, climb, climb. I’m told it’s a bad idea, but I don’t listen. I said I needed some liquid courage, but really just wanted a beer on this glorious August day in a slice of paradise. And although this is a slice, the whole pie is here too, just a short jaunt away. I grab on and now I start thinking this is a bad idea. But I have to do it. I’ll be pissed if I don’t. And I want to. I step to the edge, heart pumping fast. One step further and that’s it. It all goes by so quickly, and next thing I now I scream past a tree not two feet away. I hit the bottom of the arc, but keep holding on. I want to hold on forever, but I know I must give in. I must succumb to the natural forces or I will be sorry. I let go. A glimpse of the tail flashes and my mind panics, but then it’s gone quicker than the time I saw it for and my mind can’t keep up. I feel it on my feet first and then I have an overwhelming need to do it again. I climb back up, step by step, and I get to that fateful edge again. I wanted to get up there again so badly, but now that I’m here, I get that all too familiar feeling of terror again. But I love it, and again, I take that last step.”

After drying off and donning our riding pants again we rode back down the hill to meet Alissa for beers at the Whistler Brewing Company that had been closed the night before. They make a really tasty beer, with their Black Tusk being one of my favorites of all time. 

We had another good, albeit short visit before Colin and I had to make our way to Van to meet his cousins for supper. Goodbye Alissa and Whistler, thanks for being great!