We finally pulled into Whistler, the first stop on the road trip, Thursday afternoon to some light rain and no one in the parking lot. Since we’re both so hard core (or at least Nate is, and I didn’t want to be a wimp) we suited up, pulled out the bikes and hit the chairlift. Whistler, for those of you who may not have heard of it, is up in British Columbia, Canada. It’s about two hours North of Vancouver, and there are two large mountains (Whistler and Blackcomb) that have 5000 feet of vertical during the ski season. Someone in Whistler figured out that if they made a mountain bike park for the summer, they could actually make some money. It has now turned into arguably the best mountain bike park in the world. They have something like 30 people constantly maintaining and creating trails, which involve a little more than the typical path through the forest. Huge jumps, banked turns, rock drops, wooden ladder bridges are just the beginning. Nate has been there a few times and was practically jumping up and down he was so excited. I was more on the nervous side, wondering if I was going to be able to even ride everything. It turned out I couldn’t ride everything, but we rode damn near everything and it WAS FREAKING AWESOME! Oh man, I think I got better riding there for three days than I did in the last year in San Diego.
We spent the first afternoon racing around the lower mountain so I could learn the trails. It’s hard to describe what they’re like without pictures (it rained every day so we couldn’t carry the camera) but either they were manicured perfection (A-line) or nasty rooty slick and steep (Clown Shoes). As I mentioned, it was raining, and that added an extra challenge to everything, since all the rock faces, roots and wooden bridges were really slippery. I hit the brakes too hard on some of the bridges and ate it a few times until I learned my lesson. Many of the stunts and lines were the type that you just had to trust that it was rideable and hold on tight. We got so covered in mud that at the end of the day we took turns spraying each other off with a pressure washer.
The first night there was the first time we stayed in the van, and it wasn’t all that bad. The bunks are fairly comfortable and there is enough space, but things like heating and lighting are problems yet to be solved. Our morning commute was great, from the bottom parking lot up to the top. Nate knew of a coffee shop that served up huge slices of fresh toast for cheap, which became our morning routine. Then we’d ride for a few hours until lunch. After a big lunch it was back on the hill for some more hours of fun, followed by a good hosing off and a couple hours nursing a cup of tea in the coffee shop. Who knew it could take two hours to drink a cup when there is warmth and a dry place to hang out?
The second day was more of the same, and the third started out great. The weather was even clearing up and they opened the top of the mountain. The upper trails are NUTS! There were sections we didn’t even attempt to ride. I was definitely riding at my limits. I managed to wreck pretty good coming down a chute onto one of those damn slick ladder bridges and bruised the heel of my hand. Not too bad though, and we were back riding after lunch. Then Nate drops into this nasty little section, hooks a pedal on a root and tumbles down a rock face. Fall down go boom hard! He seemed fine and we kept riding down the hill. At a stop lower down, all he says to me is “uh oh.” Uh oh what? You don’t say uh oh and then not explain. “Lets head on down and I’ll check at the bottom.” At the bottom we stop and Nate pulls off his glove. I don’t see anything wrong at first, but then Nate points out that his pinky doesn’t line up with the rest of his fingers. Time to head to the ER. At the Canadian ER they inform him that they want payment up front for all services. After a quick powwow, we decide he won’t be riding whatever is wrong with his finger, so we say goodbye to Whistler and head back to Seattle for some health care and a stop by Nate’s mom’s place.