I awoke this morning to the sound of a truck reversing into my room. At least, thats how it sounded to me. For a moment I thought I was in the Spanish resort of my youth. Then I realised; Whistler is one big building site at the moment.
They don't mention that in the guides. Even the maps delicately skip over the fact that large areas are populated by yellow vehicles and men showing the compulsory 3 inches of arse-crack demanded by building unions. Must be chilly.
I peered out of the window at the scaffolding that was glowing eerily in darkness of pre-dawn and tried to remember how I'd got here.
Finding the SnowBus was simple enough. The 'host', Dave, was present and extended a hand: "Hey man, Newly isn't it?"
"Er, yes. It is. How did you know?"
"Oh ya. They said there was an English dude on the manifest"
Is it really that obvious? *Sigh*
Kudos to Dave for trying to inject some enthusiasm into the 4 passengers. He offered us a selection of films. We gave a collective shrug. The last passenger climbed aboard and was given the same list.
"Which one is the voter's favourite?" the newcomer asked.
"Apathy" I volunteered
Dave looked confused, "Nah dude, I don't think we've got that one..."
"I mean, nobody cares" I explained
"Oh ya. Fer-sher" said Dave, brightening. What in blue blazes does "fer-sher" actually mean?
So we watched Starsky and Hutch. I'd seen it before. I have to say, it doesn't improve on a second viewing.
The driver said those 7 words you never want to hear a bus driver say: "I'm just getting off for a beer" before returning and setting off. He wore a pair of wrap-around sunglasses in defiance of the fog and and rain.
Whistler Village (from where I'm writing this, connected to another unsecure wireless LAN thoughtfully provided by the inhabitants) is a little inappropriately named. The same way that the US has a habit of naming anything with more than one store and a gas-station "city", "village" seems a litte inaccurate. Its quite a substantial place. And it was snowing. Yippee! Bear in mind that I've not seen proper snow for years, so this was terrifically exciting. The Bear has never seen snow - hence the photo above.
It took a good half hour to work out where the Timberline Lodge was and once there I found myself in a room with more floorspace than my home. At some point today I'm going to work out how the communal hot-tub on the roof works. Sadly, I entirely failed to acquire skis or ski-pass - it was dark and I have a suspicion that stoned residents have re-pointed some of the signs in order to confuse the hated tourists.
This is this morning's task. And then, at lunch, I shall endeavour to injure myself.
I'm actually genuinely a little worried about that. What happens if I pop that naughty disk in my back again? Its as times like this that the solitary existance isn't so fun. Although the ability to eat garlic and pickles whenever I like offsets it somewhat...
