Three layers of pants, five layers on tops and I feel and look like a black Michelin Tire guy. Before we even got to the first stop sign my knees feel wet and cold. We are off flying down to the highway.
I am sure of a few things. Although I am sensitive and a pushover….I know how to dig deep and suck it up….even when I can't see one glimmer of brightness in the sky. I also know that no matter how bleak a situation seems…there is probably something spectacular I would miss if I stayed in bed.
Abbotsford's Harris Road was the first joy wending through little curves and out toward Harrison. These are familiar properties and landmarks. It amazes me how little has changed...cars still parked...abandoned tractors...a majestic bald eagle in a tree I have seen many times before.
The rain is easing up and we are on the way to Harrison....in the Hemlock Valley area. When we veer right to get to Highway 7 I take note of Hawkins Pickle Road. What a name!! I want to live on that road. We are creeping toward Hope and Highway 7, enjoying the beginning of the ride and drying out.
Next we are in Boston Bar, stopping at a cheesy somewhat dilapidated diner that Ken thinks is cool. We miss the May Day parade that is just a little south of the Diner, but which we see a few participants pass. The parade lasts only a few minutes....a shadow of yesteryear when apparently the celebration went on for days. It seemed the most exciting thing was the lights from emergency vehicles.
We are back on the road, and we in edging around familiar twists and turns and watching for rocks as we head from Lytton to Lillooet. It is a beautiful ride dodging rocks the rough narrow roads....we see a bear cub part the trees but as soon as he hears the engine retreats. It is great riding now as there are few cars on the road to slow us down. We get to Lillooet and are on the Duffy Lake route. Now the road cuts a swathe through the mountainous terrain....Cayoosh Creek curving beside the road. We are alone with the tarmac, twists and breathtaking views of waterfalls, trees and crags. We stop for a picture with the snow by the road and cannot resist a snowball fight. The air is filled with the sound of running water and the sun is beaming on us, enough to kiss us with warmth.
I am in my head, thinking how most of the world is missing out on this - where the earth and sky feel like they are one....and we are invading, but only to pass through. As we wend and wind through to Pemberton and the humanity begins to surround us again, we see houses that could be condemned resplendent with Canuck Jerseys and flags. It is nice to see the rally of spirits.
Volvos and skateboarders are prevalent as we near Whistler. The mountains are full of snow, and even as the sun seems to remind us that summer is close, the snow beckons to the die hards to ride.
The next morning we head for home...but the thing I think I enjoy about my man is he doesn't always stick to the script. We were planning breakfast in Squamish, but wound up meandering through a mostly deserted, tree-lined road of gentle twists, that took us somewhere new...We breakfasted in Brackendale after the detour. It was satisfying to find another road less traveled....and distracting.
From Brackendale it was smooth bends and curves south on the Sea to Sky.....cautious, not for the road as much as for speed traps. The view is spectacular...islands dotting the azure blue water mirroring the sky. Looking out I cannot help but feel completely content with the world.
And to think I might have missed this but for a few moments of rain....