Whistler, BC, Canada

July 2019

Whistler is strikingly well-planned for a community that has experienced exponential growth.  There are high-rise developments surrounding picturesque wooded lakes. Foot and bike paths radiate outward from the village center into the river valleys, connecting lakes, parks, ski areas, and subdivisions.  I noted the underground utilities and underground parking with approval.  What thoughtful urban planning in spite of or because of massive real estate development!

John and I stayed in a condo in the Village with our adult daughters and son-in-law and World’s Best 3 Year Old Asher.  A quick review reminded me of the joys of being a grandparent: a cliché but true: have lots of fun with the kids and hand them back when they crank out.  Since we are natural early birds, we loved having oatmeal and banana, playing games and reading with Asher in the morning while the next generation went for a trail run finishing with coffee and pastries.  Other Asher highlights include playing on the playground and digging in the park sand.
Asher and I were making a construction zone out of the clean sand at the park while  chatting amicably with the Aussie mum and the Canadian mum nearby.  I praised the remarkable cleanliness of BC Provincial Parks, Parks Canada, and regional parks, noting the absence of litter. Canadian mum took this as a given: “we are all taught to clean up after ourselves.”  I followed up with observing that the tidy recycling bins had properly sorted contents, showing general buy-in by the park users.  I said that in California, we have the same rules about picking up litter but parks are much messier.  The Aussie mum sighed in agreement, saying, “some people don’t follow the rules.” Later that day, while vigorously disputing nap time because it was the parental rule, Asher told his folks, “some people don’t follow the rules!”  I’ve also heard him say, “people are different!” I used to say that to our girls.
But enough Genius Grandchild anecdotes.  The extended Newman family landed in Whistler due to instant run-off voting.  For those unfamiliar with this term, it means first each family member may nominate a destination.  Then each family member who plans to come submits a ranked list of place nominations.  At a specific cut-off time, all the votes are instantly tallied on a spreadsheet.  Last place drops out each time until a winner, usually most people’s first or second choice, is declared.  In Whistler we were 29 relatives.  In 2020 we will be 31 when we vacation in Poipu, Kauai, HI. The three generations used to be the grandparents who were our father and mother, the siblings and their spouses, and the grandkids.  Now the generations comprise the siblings and their spouses, the cousins and their spouses, and the little ones.  It is pretty fun all around.
I organized a canoe or kayak trip along the “River of Golden Dreams” between Alta Lake and Green Lake.  19 of us participated, with two guides, on a cold wet Wednesday.  I shared a double canoe with John navigating behind me.  Some took immediately to paddling deftly. Others used athleticism to overcome a skill deficit.  Once we’d left the flat, warmer water of the lake, the creek trail through willows, snags, and sandbars was interesting and challenging.  Shortly after the excitement of sighting a beaver, we had the excitement of capsizing our canoe.  On a short, steep downhill section, John forgot to duck below an extended branch. As he was clotheslined, I went ass over teakettle upside down into the glacial meltwater.  He landed in hip-high water and struggled to the bank. When I emerged, the first thing I heard was, “Sorry, Sweetie.” By then I was floating downstream, clutching my paddle, looking for purchase and a bank to climb out of the water.  Nothing appeared. I got worried and yelled for help.  Then a guide heard me and turned her kayak around to come back to help me.  Hurray for choosing to be guided!  With her professional assistance, she corralled the swamped canoe and shoved it onto a bank to park it.  She directed me to swim another few minutes downstream where there would be a place for me to climb out.  She brought me a dry-bag with sweatpants and a fleece.  There on the riverbank, with bluish hands and feet,  I stripped to my birthday suit and put on the dry clothes.  Every adventure has its pluses and minuses.  I was frozen but exultant that I had worn an eyewear retainer to protect my prescription glasses.  Sadly, my cell phone perished in the drink.  I had wanted to take a few photos and not leave it in the car.  Happily for John, my brother-in-law and sister had been dumped in the same spot. That made him feel ever so much better.  And her phone came through unscathed.