Yikes, it has been a long while since my last post so here goes…A few weeks ago my wife, Kate and I got back from the 2010 Winter Olympics in Vancouver BC and I wanted to relay the experience to my loyal readers so without further ado I will commence with the telling…

We went with my brother and our good friend, Kevin who was an Olympian at Torino. Our bus left Bellingham around noon Wednesday. After a bit of a drive and a brief stop at the boarder we arrived in Vancouver and spent the day touring the city. Vancouver was a buzz with people from all nationalities; even more so than usual and it was really cool to be in the mix. Some of the main drags of the city were blocked off to vehicles allowing visiting pedestrians to wonder the streets. As we walked, we stumbled upon two zip lines that were flying individuals over the crowds of people underneath. We found out later that the zip lines were free to ride, but they also came complete with a four hour wait to take the 15 second trip.

We decided to take a late lunch that day and settled on the Café Crepe. We were seated on one side of a booth. A few other parties were seated in the other half of the booth, but decided to move; seemingly because the booth’s table on that side was a bit wobbly (Surely it wasn’t because of the smiling fun-loving Americans seated in the booth, right?). After a bit of waiting a party of three, I wanna say French speaking young men, joined us at the booth. Two of the French party were of a slender build and one of the guys had a more husky physique. The guys that sat next to us solved the wobbly table conundrum with a few folded over paper coasters; classic. A few moments latter, the very busy server came to their side of the table and asked if they had been helped yet and if they wanted a few menus. The Frenchmen looked at each other with a bit of a puzzled look on each of their faces, turned to the server and spoke one of the few English words they knew, “Beer”. After a bit of waiting we received our meals, the Frenchmen received their beers and everyone was happy. We left Café Crepe around 4:30pm and decided to do some more walking/site-seeing.

"Is that it!?" - Disappointed Woman

We headed down to the waterfront to see the cauldron. As we walked we noticed several Olympic volunteers wearing teal blue jackets directing the masses as to what attractions were where. At one point along the side of the road we came to a clearing and there before us was the ice cauldron. A little elderly woman who surely was an American and who had to have been from Georgia or West Virgina exclaimed, disappointedly, and with a southern draw, “Is that it?” Kevin and I happened to be standing the closest to her and we just started laughing.  The cauldron wasn’t an overly grandiose feature and it was surrounded by a chain-link fence so I could see where she was coming from. We took several pictures and continued our trek. The sun was setting and the city began to get dark.

Walking the streets of Vancouver at night was quite the experience.  The distinct smell of snicklefritz was on the air.  We actually saw some guys smoking the stuff not 15 feet away from a police officer.  The officer didn’t give it a second thought.  There were tap dancers, belly dancers, people of all nationalities wearing their nation’s fare with pride.  Everyone was having a good time, except for that guy that got mugged, Yowza!…Ha! just kidding, we witnessed no muggings.  I imagine there were some somewhere, but not where we were…hmm, thinking about it now makes me sad and a part of me wishes I hadn’t joked about it two sentences ago.

We made our way down to the Hudson’s Bay Company; the store that had all the “official” Olympic merchandise.  We waited in line outside for about 15 minutes.  We got a Quatchi doll for our daughter and Kate got a long-sleeve t-shirt.  The place was a mad-house zoo.  We saw Saun White‘s 1280 what’s'it on the TV’s as we were waiting in the checkout line.  Our excitement was a bit subdued.  For some reason we felt like we were surrounded by Canadians; weird.

We headed down to Vancouver Live City, which was just a public spot where people could hang out, listen to live music and watch the Olympic events on big screen televisions.  After a short wait outside we were let into the temporary structure where the live music was playing, selected a spot (all the seats were taken), and took it all in.  I decided to go for some local cuisine and ordered some poutine at the venue.  Poutine is a french-canadian dish consisting of fries smothered in gravy and topped with cheese curds.  It’s the after-dinner snack of all the Olympic champions I’m sure.

Poutine

After standing there for a bit a few Royal Canadian Mounted Policeman stepped inside.  Kate wanted to take their picture but became embarrassed when the two made eye contact with her as she attempted the shot.  After about ten minutes we noticed that people were starting to have their pictures taken with the two officers, so I said to Kate, “Let’s go over there and I’ll take your picture with the two of them.”  We made our way over.  As Kate settled in between the two officers and I began to peer through the viewfinder one of the fun-loving (slightly inebriated perhaps) attendees motioned me to get in the shot (he pushed me and grabbed my camera).  So I joined Kate in-between the two mounties and our new found friend took the winning shot.

As we walked back to the hotel to call it a night we saw two of the Frenchmen we had seen at the Café Crepe run past us.  We all wondered where the third, husky Frenchman was.  In fact one of the members of our illustrious party blurted out, “Hey there are the Frenchmen…I guess they left ‘chubs’ behi…oh, nevermind.”  As the word “behind” began to escape a certain someone’s lips, the husky Frenchman traipsed along behind his comrades.

Day one of our Olympic adventure was under our belts.  The next day we would make the journey up to Whistler and the Sliding Centre.

I was driving the other day and happened to witness a traffic enigma of sorts. I’ve only been a part of one of these puzzles once in all my years of driving and this particular instance was only my second time to actually witness the event; which is not to say that these phenomena happen infrequently. I may just not have been paying attention or I might not live in the right area of town. Whatever the reason is, I’ve only seen two.

Okay, with that said, I’m going to try and describe what this enigma entails. The driving circumstances need to be just right. Timing is critical. The set up involves at least two “victims of oblivity” being in the right place at the right time. I guess I’m being a bit cruel here calling two drivers “victims of oblivity” (I’m going to use the acronym VO from here on out. The acronym VOO is already taken and means something totally different.), but I’m at a loss for a term that describes a person that drives into the middle of an intersection when there is nowhere to go, and in so doing completely blocks the intersection. Perhaps it’s an innocent mistake.  Maybe these VOs are just ignorant to their surroundings at an inopportune moment in time (I’ve actually been one of these guys once or twice I’m ashamed to say.).  Maybe they’re running 5 minutes behind and think that it will be better for them to wait in the middle of traffic than at the appropriate stopping position.  Whatever the case, when these VOs do what they do, frustration erupts within surrounding vehicles.  Eventually a light turns green, traffic starts moving, and gradually the congested intersection clears up.  That is, unless there exists a second VO obstructing another nearby intersection.

The phenomena occurs when two VOs do their thing simultaneously, on the same stretch of road, but going the opposite direction whereby completely stopping traffic flow (See figure 1).

Figure 1

The event often happens at an interstate overpass (or underpass) where there exists two left turn lanes, side-by-side.  There are two rows of cars, one going one way, one going the other.  Both rows of cars are at an impasse because the lead car of both rows of traffic wants to turn left but cannot because a car has driven into the intersection and has blocked all traffic turning left.  The lights may change from red to green and back to red again and the vehicles remain gridlocked.  I believe the only solution to the mess is for one or more drivers to forfeit their desire to turn left and make a lane change to the right, whereby allowing one of the VOs in the middle of an intersection to travel beyond the intersection and free up space for another vehicle to make a successful left hand turn.  Once this is accomplished, the flow of traffic can slowly begin to move again and the phenomena evaporates into ordinary, boring, free-flowing traffic.

The one time I was a part of one of these I remember being quite frustrated to the point of pulling my hair out.  This last time I merely witnessed the phenomena, but was not an active member.  Seeing the mess in front of me was a somewhat enjoyable experience; like finding a four leaf clover, seeing a rainbow, or achieving a “tetris” in the classic computer game, Tetris (completing four rows at once).  The phenomena I’m witnessing is a man-made rarity, perhaps something to be marveled.  A traffic knot that will hold traffic in place until “loosened” by removing one or more vehicles.

Man-Made Marvels

In the time since I’ve seen this rare occurrence I’ve noticed other intersections such as the one below that appear to be designed to avoid the dreaded traffic knot of which I describe.  One direction of traffic still has to make a left turn through oncoming traffic, but the other direction of traffic averts the hassle and is provided a right hand turn option that loops around and gets them going in the desired direction.

Traffic Knot Evasion

The next time I find myself in one of these “Traffic Knot Enigmas” (What do you call these anyway?), I’d like to think that I’d consider it a rare privilege to be a part of such an event…that is, if I’m not in any great rush to get anywhere.  If that not be the case, I’ll probably resort to pulling my hair out in frustration.  Has anyone else been in or seen one of these things?

Canyon Ridge Trailhead

My daughter recently received a brand new pair of hiking boots from her grandmother, so on September 25^th, 2009 I decided to take her on a hiking adventure. This wasn’t our first hiking expedition. In fact, over the past several months we’ve had numerous outdoor explorations, and this particular outing would be a trial of the new boots. I thumbed through my Whatcom County hiking guide (a Christmas gift from my wife) and, based on a small black and white pic placed amongst the text, I decided on a destination called Canyon Ridge. It looked like it was pretty and we hadn’t been there before. We set out at about 10am (an early start for the two of us).

The road we took initially was route 542.  At around mile marker 32 we took a turn onto a one lane road that wound up the side of a ridge.  We followed this path for about seven miles and enjoyed the sites.  About halfway up we came across a park ranger who was stopped next to a pickup truck.  I thought our journey was over.  I rolled my window down and asked the officer if the road was closed off, but he told me that it wasn’t and that they were just speaking to the hunters about how their day was going.  “Hmm, a hunter area”, I thought to myself.  We continued our drive.

After following the 7 mile one lane road we began a 7 mile trek up a rough gravelly dirt road.  Shortly after turning onto the gravel road I told my 3-year-old passenger in the back seat, “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”  She assured me that it was and we continued on our journey.  The going was pretty slow at this point driving in a Honda on a road that was not constructed with Hondas in mind.  There were some spots that were a bit dicier than others, but about halfway up I heard the voice of reassurance from the back seat, “I like this place, Daddy.”  A little more than two hours from our 10am start we arrived at the Canyon Ridge Trail-head.

"Red" Berries

Climbing out of the car after such a long and arduous drive I think both my daughter and I felt a sense of accomplishment.  Surveying our surroundings we were eagerly looking forward to a hike in the wild expanses that lay all around us.  We both started down the trail, each with a grin on our faces.  Almost from the get go we stumbled across some pretty red berries of which my daughter was eager to sample.  “We probably shouldn’t eat those.  They might make us sick.  I’m just not sure what kind of berries those are, Sweety.”  I explained.  “They are red berries, Dad.” was her reply.  I found myself stumped and speechless, as I often do when I converse with this little one.  I took a picture of the berries and that seemed to suffice.  We continued down the trail.

My daughter often likes to discover mushrooms on our hikes so I was keen to show her all that I stumbled upon, being quick to point out that mushrooms we find on nature trails are not for eating either.  Continuing on, we discovered several more berry plants, flowers and varieties of mushrooms.

Pink Mushroom

Tree Mushrooms

Small Mushroom

After a good 30 or 40 minutes of hiking, my daughter wanted to be carried on my shoulders.  I obliged and we continued down the trail enjoying the sites, scents, and blue skies.  The trail began to wind downward along the ridge.  At a bend in the trail we stumbled upon an empty Oberto jerky bag and a pile of discarded animal entrails.  I put two and two together and figured we were in hunter territory.  I decided to turn back and head to the car, taking pictures of the sites along the way.

Arriving back at the car, we took a few more pictures, got strapped in and started our descent.  Heading down the gravel road I decided to time our journey from trail-head to paved road.  The seven-mile journey took us a good 45 minutes, granted I stopped a few times to take pictures.

About mid-way down the one lane road we drove up on a truck that was stopped with it’s passengers standing along the side of the road.  When they saw us drive up they got back in and drove for a bit.  After going a little further I noticed a larger bird fly in front of their truck.  The truck stopped and the driver jumped out.  He was handed a shotgun and he proceeded to take a shot at the bird that had just flown away.  He walked around to the back of his truck and took another shot in the direction of the bird.  I looked back at my daughter who was sleeping soundly and then looked again at the man with the shotgun thinking, “Hrmm…we might be stuck in the middle of the road for awhile.”  I was also thinking, “Is jumping out of your car and shooting at a bird from the roadside legal?”  About that time the truck passenger jumped out and climbed into the driver’s seat, drove up a bit, and let us pass.  We continued our journey down the ridge.  I kind of wish I had taken a picture of the guy shooting from the road right in front of us, but I think if he had seen me take a picture that might have gotten us in a sticky situation I didn’t really want to be in.

We finally made our way to one lane pavement, which in turn led to route 542.  Slowly the scenic views gave way to civilization and other people.  Our adventure was coming to its conclusion.  We arrived at home around 4:30pm.  I think next time I’ll look a little closer at the description of how difficult a destination is to get to, but I’m sure glad we made the trek…and made it back safe and sound.

Often a Bad Decision: Driving and Eating

My wife and I recently took a weekend road trip to Seattle, WA. We were in a bit of a rush to get down there to see a play so we decided to go through a drive through and eat our meal on the road. Since I was driving and because it was raining that day I joked with my wife that I was going to order the “Neat and Tidy” burger and just see what they gave me. Pulling up to the drive-through speaker I tried to select the neatest, tidiest burger I could find…I chose the Guacamole Bacon Burger. My reasoning was that guacamole has a thicker viscosity than mustard, ketchup or Thousand Island dressing. As we left the Carl’s Jr. I was feeling pretty good about my decision.

Upon closer inspection of the Guacamole Bacon Burger, I could tell I had made a fatal error in judgment. There seemed to be a secret second sauce that slipped my notice when I was ordering. The extra sauce might have been Thousand Island dressing or a mystery mayonnaise. Either way the enigmatic sauce totally negated my viscosity calculations and in short, completely messified my “Neat and Tidy”.

The "Neat and Tidy" Burger?...What was I thinking?!

As I turned onto the rain-laden interstate that looked something like this, I came to the conclusion that I could not safely ingest the meal I had just purchased. My wife ended up feeding me the giant mess of a burger as I drove, but this got me thinking; what really is the neatest and tidiest burger you can find? and are burgers the neatest of foods for driving down the interstate, or is there something even more fit for the task?

Burger Analysis

As far as burgers go, I’m thinking the McDonald’s cheeseburger is the neatest, tidiest burger to eat while driving down the interstate. The cheeseburger is slightly tidier than the hamburger equivalent because the cheese in the McCheeseburger acts as a mortar that holds the burger structure together.  The Burger King counterpart is “a brick” of a sandwich and fares well during interstate travel as well.  The downside to the Burger King cheeseburger is that you’ll probably end up with a lap full of sesame seeds.  I’ve found the Wendy’s burgers to be greasier than the McDonald’s and Burger King burgers.  The Wendy’s burger patties are also square and thus present an extra element of awkwardness while driving down the road.

McDonald's Cheeseburger	Burger King Cheeseburger
Mouthwatering: Cringe	Portability: You betcha!

A new trend among fast food chains is the tiny burgers.  Burger King and Jack in the Box both have tiny burger offerings that would probably be good choices for in-the-car meals.  Burger’s with lettuce and tomatoes provide more of a challenge.  And finally, the burgers that are excessively large, have lettuce and tomatoes and have multiple sauces dripping out of them (i.e. the Guacamole Bacon Burger) I have determined to be worst travel burgers.

Beyond Burger Analysis

Are burgers the best alternative when it comes to travel food? Applying a little research (just sitting in my chair thinking), I’ve come to the conclusion that a plain cake doughnut hole is the the neatest and tidiest food to eat while driving down the interstate.  I’ve compiled a chart to illustrate which foods are good choices for interstate travel and which choices are “invitations to disaster”.

Note that once you get into foods that require utensils, there is a significant and sudden increase in the amount of danger you have placed yourself (and those driving around you) in.  Also notice that at that point it doesn’t really matter whether you are driving and automatic or a standard; your middle name is “Danger”.  I have deemed soups to be the most dangerous of all foods to eat while driving.  Although, thinking it through now, I suppose if you got one of those “Soup at Hand” cups and eliminated the need for a spoon, soup might be a viable option.

This past January my wife and I took a trip to beautiful Whistler British Columbia. We drove up with my brother-in-law and his wife. The weather was perfect and we all had a grand time.

Whistler's Fairmont Hotel

We stayed two nights at the Fairmont hotel and were pretty darn pampered.  Once we checked in and got all our stuff up to the hotel room, I decided to go downstairs and get fitted for a snowboard.  You may not think it, but going to Canada really feels a bit like going to a European country.  The miles change to kilometers, gas is sold in litres, and accents abound.  The chaps that helped me into my snowboard boots and snowboard all had accents that I traditionally assign to Brits.  Perhaps I’ve mislabeled the accent.  The guys were extremely friendly and helpful, and put this snowboarding newcomer at ease.  Once I was fitted the guy who was helping me told me “Cheers, mate.” and I was off to the register to pay.  Since I had reserved the snowboard online a few days before back in Bellingham the cashier told me, “You’re good.  Cheers, mate.”.  “Cheers, mate”.  I like the sound of that.  I thought to myself, “I’m going to start using that instead of saying ‘goodbye’”, but then I thought, “Nope, don’t see that happening.”  It’s just not the same coming out of an Americans mouth.

After getting fitted for a snowboard I went back up to the room and met back up with the gang.  We played some pinochle for a bit until my brother-in-law started losing and decided not to play anymore then we were off to eat.  The first evening there we had some really tasty sushi.  After dinner, we stopped at a store and picked up some hats and bathing suits (some of us forgot hats and/or bathing suits in the states).  We headed back to the hotel and suited up for the hot tub.  We ended up in the outdoor hot tub and discussed George “Dubya”, Canadian and American holidays, and driving styles of Americans and Canadians with a few Canadians I’d say in their mid-twenties.  A relaxing evening.  We headed to our room and prepared for bed.  Tomorrow would be my first day snowboarding.

Chris on his rear

The next day we grabbed our gear, got lift tickets and headed up Blackcomb Mountain (the mountain next to Whister Mountain).  Just moving up to the lift the first time with the snowboard attached to me was awkward and I don’t know that I ever got comfortable scooching up to the lifts with the snowboard attached to my foot while trying to maneuver with the other foot.  My brother-in-law and his wife were pleased that I didn’t fall getting off the lift for the first time.  On our first run I quickly learned that catching an edge on my heals came pretty easy to me but catching an edge on my toes was very hard/impossible for me to do.

With my first snowboard run under my belt I was a bit disappointed in myself as I had fallen a handful of times (I was totally expecting to be an instant expert…or at least not embarrassing).  I also was in a bit of pain.  I had fallen several times on my chest and I had unwisely placed my cell phone in my chest pocket.  “No problem” I thought to myself, “I’ll just stop falling down.”  I know what you’re thinking; Chris Cabe = genius.  We headed up the lift for our second run.

Getting on a lift with a snowboard attached to me I found to be a little more awkward than skis, but it wasn’t all that bad.  Getting off the lift proved to be a challenge.  When you get off the lift you are supposed to point the tips of your skis/snowboards up so that the tips don’t get wedged in the snow and pull you down, face first, into the snow.  I failed to pull my snowboard up in time.  The front of the board got wedged in the snow, leaving me no choice but to dive, flat bellied on the snow.  I clasped both hands behind my head to protect myself from the lift chair and other skiers disembarking the ski lift.  Once the lift chair that I was on had moved over top of me, I shimmied out of the line of traffic army commando style all with a snowboard strapped to my foot.  It was the only time all day that I failed to make a successful lift exit.

Not really me, but I can do this now

As we completed more and more runs, I continued to fall more and more times, and these falls were really starting to take a toll on my body…specifically the chest area, to be even more precise, right around the chest pocket area where I had my cell phone.  On falls now my chest pocket area was an explosion of stabbing pain.  I guess I had fallen right on my cell phone one too many times.  It felt like my rib was broken or my lung had collapsed…all the things that conjure up extreme pain in the chest area, that’s what it felt like.  I decided to move my cell phone to my front pants pocket.

I was also flippin’ exhausted.  I never really got to the point where I was good enough to test this theory, but constantly falling down and getting up and falling down again several times is far more tiring than just staying on your snowboard and zipping down the mountain.  I don’t know if it was from the constant falling and getting up or from the cell phone stabs to the chest or maybe both, but after about the third run I was sucking wind and finding it hard to get a good breath.  I felt the totally exhausted gag reflex begin to set in and so I decided to take a breather at one of the base camps on the mountain.  I took my heavy coat off, plopped down and drank some water.  I noticed when I sat down and rested for a moment my eyes couldn’t focus on anything in my center of vision…only my peripheral vision was good.  I felt a bit loopy.  “Weird,” I thought to myself.  I asked my friends if they were experiencing the same thing…I don’t remember how they responded.  After a few cups of water we were headed back up the mountain for some more runs.

Whistler Blackcomb Peak-to-Peak

About mid-day we decided to ride the peak-to-peak from Blackcomb Mountain to Whistler Mountain.  The peak-to-peak is a gondola that opened in December.  Once we arrived at Whistler Mountain I did the suck wind and drink water thing at the lodge, while my brother-in-law and his wife went for a few more runs.  We met back up and had lunch at Whistler Mountain’s Roundhouse Lodge.  I saved a table while my companions got in line to get their lunches.  I took this opportunity to plot my course down Whistler.  I was pretty much spent at this point so I decided I’d take the green (beginner) routes all the way down.  We discussed our plan over lunch and decided that I would go down Whister Mountain and my brother-in-law and sister-in-law would go back across on the peak-to-peak.  We would meet up at the hotel at the end of the day.

The route I chose didn’t look to bad on paper, but the Roundhouse Lodge stands at 6,069ft. and is at the top of the Whistler Village Gondola.  The Whister Village Gondola takes 25 minutes to get from the village to the lodge, and the village was my destination.  I was in for a long snowboarding run.  My chest, face, and rear became very well acquainted with Whistler Mountain that afternoon.  The run was slow and exhausting but I finally made it back to the hotel.  I never really felt comfortable on the snowboard.  I need to try it again at some point but not for a good while.  I was looking forward to some hot tub time that evening.

I met back up with my wife who had been relaxing at the hotel and reading all day(the smarter one of the two of us).  Together we headed back up to our room and found the others.  We all decided to head down to the hot tub, which was packed.  After the hot tub we went back up to the room, got dressed and headed to Whistler Village for dinner.

We wandered down to the village.  The weekend we were there just happened to be some sort of college weekend.  College kids were gathered around the base of one of the ski runs watching skiers and snowboarders jump through a ring of fire.  We watched for a bit and then continued roaming the streets searching for a place to eat.  We settled on a bar/restaurant that looked decent enough and were seated at a table with a view of the village around us.  I ordered a beef barley stew.  My wife got a burger.  My brother-in-law ordered a pizza and my sister-in-law went with a bar-b-que chicken sandwich.  After a long wait our food arrived…that is, all but my sister-in-law’s food arrived.  The burger and pizza were good.  I tasted a few bites of my stew and quickly realized that it was a bowl of marinara sauce.  I tried to just go ahead and eat it, but ended up sending it back and eating some pizza and burger.  After awhile a girl arrived with a pulled pork sandwich for my sister-in-law.

“I ordered a bar-b-que chicken sandwich.”, explained my sister-in-law.

“Oh, we ran out of bar-b-que chicken, but here’s a pulled pork sandwich if you’d like that instead.”, retorted the server.

All of us at the table looked at each other and shared an “Are we in the Twilight Zone?” moment. I guess they ran out of something so they just assumed the second choice of anyone ordering a bar-b-que chicken sandwich would naturally be a pulled pork sandwich.  What the flip?  “Hey maybe that’s why I ended up with a bowl of marinara sauce.”, I thought to myself.  My sister-in-law requested a menu and ordered a salmon sandwich, which came 30 minutes after the rest of us were done eating.  Not the best restaurant experience but we didn’t let it ruin our fun.

The night before we left was tough for me.  I was in a fair amount of pain.  Lying down hurt.  Sitting up hurt.  Thinking back on it, pretty much any type of movement gave me varied amounts of pain.  I did manage a few hours of sleep but I remember lying there in the middle of the night wanting to fluff my flattened pillow and deciding that it hurt too much to try so I just lay there with my head sunk deep and unsupported.

The next morning we gathered our things, had a quick breakfast and headed back down south, and that was my January trip to Whistler in a nutshell.  A few days after we got back I went to the doctor and was diagnosed with a “contusion of the trunk area”.  Almost two months after the trip I still have the slightest bit of pain when I get up in the morning, but I’m glad I tried snowboarding.  Maybe someday I’ll muster up the courage to try it again.