Alaska Trip Diary 2016: Day 2: Vancouver, Better Late Than Never
Here follows the account of my Alaskan Inside Passage Cruise, which departed Vancouver on Monday, May 30 and ended in Seward, Alaska on Monday, June 6. The original plan was that I would fly out of Tampa to Vancouver on Saturday, and have a couple of days ahead of time in Vancouver, which was reputed to be a great city. I was interested in visiting Grouse Mountain, Stanley Park, and maybe Granville Island, among others. Sadly, things got off to a rather rough start…
WARNING: This entry contains profanity. Believe me, if you'd had to deal with this, you would have been spewing profanity like a sailor too. It took all the restraint I had not to curse up a storm out loud.
Day 1: Chicago O'Hell and a United Airlines Bullshit Pass
Sunday, May 29, 2016: Vancouver, Better Late Than Never
4:25 am CDT: It really sucked that the vacation I planned to reward myself for those all-nighters at work began with an all-nighter even more uncomfortable. No sleep to be had for me, much tossing and turning and feeling guilty for just how damned loud that cot creaked if I moved. The lights started coming back up at 4:00, so I gave up and got up. The airport medical center distributed “hygiene packages” with toothbrushes, deodorant wipes, soap. Nice thought, I guess. I was just praying my luggage would get to Vancouver on my flight and that the goddamn flight would get us there. Grouse Mountain, Stanley Park, all those sights in Vancouver that I’d hoped to see today were probably off. I was just too tired.
6:30 am CDT: I got my hands on one of those so-generous $10 meal vouchers and bought a hot chocolate, croissant, and some madeleines at Starbucks for breakfast and a snack aboard that as-yet-hypothetical flight. We watched with ever-decreasing blood pressure as crew members arrived one by one, but AT LAST, we were boarding. Then they killed the engines and all the flight attendants went up front.
I snagged one of them and asked if there was a problem. She claimed it was just someone being added on standby. Then the baggage ramp came back and my blood pressure went still higher. Bullshit. None of us believed a word out of any United Airlines representative’s mouth anymore. And the flight was full, so no way in hell was somebody being ADDED “on standby” after the doors were closed.
6:50 am CDT: We still hadn’t pushed back and there was someone in an Aircraft Maintenance vest up in the front. “Are. You. KIDDING me?!”
6:57 am CDT: “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your final flight verification, 1180 to Vancouver. Just going to close the doors and we’ll be on our way very shortly.” Funny, that was what they’d told us FIFTEEN FUCKING HOURS AGO.
7:00 am CDT: “Still waiting for paperwork from our, uh, dispatcher. Once again, it’s just paperwork, so once we have that paperwork, we’ll be on our way.” Captain, this is the ladies and gentlemen. Why should we believe you when we’ve heard nothing but bullshit since midday yesterday?
7:03: “By law we have to allow you to egress to walk around the gate area, just 5-10 minutes.” Many of us muttered that we would throttle anyone who got off the plane. “If you do get off the plane, bring all your personal belongings with you.” FUUUUUUCK!
7:05 am CDT: “Ladies and gentlemen, we have received that paperwork.” (Cheers) “We just have to wait for that one individual who did get off to get back.” (Boooo) “And we’ll be on our way shortly. We got our paperwork and we’re getting ready to leave.”
7:15 am CDT: Pushback. I thought I might just pass out once we were airborne.
7:26 am CDT: We sat. I’ve never known any airline less informative than United. Usually we at least would get updates on when we were departing. United? Nothing, and they knew damn well how long we’d been sitting.
7:31: “ATC threw us a curve ball and changed our routing to Vancouver, so we’re waiting for confirmation that our paperwork is still good.” ARE. YOU. FUCKING. KIDDING. ME?! “Once we have that we’ll be on our way.” I could not fucking believe this.
7:39: “Flight attendants, please be seated for departure.” But we were still not moving. I could not take this up and down, no news routine. My stomach was in knots, my heart was hammering, and once we started moving, I was praying (and I ain’t a praying girl) please just fucking take off!
7:45 am CDT: We were turning toward the runway, still with no announcement from the cockpit if we were actually leaving.
Around 8 am, we finally took off. Applause.
8:20 am CDT: I was too wired to sleep, and I never sleep on planes to begin with. The in-flight snack arrived. Woo-fucking-hoo. The first leg was typical (crappy trail mix). This leg… see pic. “Stroopwafel?” Actually looked pretty good, but I had a croissant from Starbucks to finish. Tried to nap, still too tense. Guh. Nothing interesting on TV, but the flight map said we were over Iowa. The farms below me formed an amazing grid, and the roads were all at perfect right angles. It looked like a patchwork quilt. (Everyone in my family will now shout “no!” Semi-inside joke for fans of David Suchet as Poirot.) We passed over the American Rockies soon. I wondered how they would look from above. The continental divide at Loveland Pass was the highest I’d ever been, about 11,000 feet. I’m Floridian, mountains impress me.
9 am, MDT: (2 hours into flight) Approaching Helena, Montana, passing just to the north, the landscape went from flat to three-dimensional, with mountains forming jagged ridges beneath us with faint lines of rivers chiseled between them. I was pretty sure sleep would continue eluding me on that flight. I had tried several times without coming close to a doze, despite being shaky all over, eyes burning, stomach still churning from sheer exhaustion and left over tension. I started toying with the idea of forcing myself to tough it out until evening so I could adjust to the time zone. Maybe I could check into the hotel and make myself go to Grouse Mountain or Stanley Park, stay on my feet for a few more hours. I just didn’t know if my body would be capable of that.
9:30: Northeast of Missoula, the mountains grew in scale and relief thanks to the snow still on their peaks and ridges. I snapped a couple of pictures. The most incredible ridge yet appeared just northwest of Missoula, then gave way to softer peaks followed by an even bigger ridge. Ridiculous to take so many pictures from a plane, but they were really beautiful.And these mountains, clearly bigger than anything I had ever seen, were so far below the window. I wondered if this was the continental divide just below us. Two ridges, the west slightly higher than the east, with lower mountains between them just slightly north (maybe east) of Missoula. Then flatness resumed. I really wanted to see these from ground level. Maybe next year.
North of Seattle, 20-30 minutes out of Vancouver, cloud cover was thick as we approached, but below us in the breaks, I could see more snow-lined ridges of mountains. The Cascades, I assumed. On my previous trip to the Pacific Northwest, cloud cover was so heavy that I never set eyes on them, not even Mr. Ranier. As we descended, I looked down at the Cascades and watched our altitude.
32,000 feet…
31,000 feet…
30,000…
29,315…
28,885… holy fuck! I looked straight out. We’d be level with 8000 meters now, and through gaps in the clouds, I could see the Cascades’ ridges. The peaks were still far, far below. Yet we’d be at eye level with Mt. Everest and the other tallest peaks in the Himalayas. Incredible to imagine…but I had no desire to step outside this jet for a taste. I’ll stick to armchair mountaineering and read all about it and look at the pictures, thanks.
10:00 am, PDT: At long, long, long, long last, we touched down in Vancouver, FIFTEEN HOURS after we’d been due. I found myself glued to the window as luggage was unloaded, imagining yet another United Airlines foul-up leaving my bag lost somewhere and me having to replace everything in my one day left.
Vancouver Airport was beautiful. Going through customs was a breeze. US citizens got to use automated machines, and I had nothing to declare except a Stroopwafel and Starbucks Madeleines, which fortunately fell within the exemptions. Then, oh joy! My bag was one of the first on the carousel. I could finally put that ordeal behind me and get on with my vacation.
Hopped a cab to the Westin Bayshore and asked the driver a few questions about the neighborhoods we passed through. The houses and residential streets reminded me of Boulder - exquisite cottages, small lots, less grass and more trees and shrubs. There was some kind of shrub - maybe a rose variety - that grew thick and huge against fences and walls like bouganvillia down south, in as many colors from white to pink to deep red. There was also a white flowering tree with huge, four-petaled blossoms. (I later found out it’s a regional dogwood.) The apartment building style downtown reminded me of Rome.
Checking in at the hotel, the desk agent had the messages on file from Adam and me and sympathized with my exhaustion. She offered me a harbor view room for $15 CAD. Sold.
It was accessible, meaning no bathtub, which was the one downside, but what a view! She confirmed Canada Place, the cruise ship pier and departure point for most excursion shuttles, was about 15 minutes’ walk from the hotel, and I found myself once again trying to keep myself awake with a trip to Grouse Mountain.
Aw, what the hell.
So after a quick shower and changing out of that accursed overnight airport ensemble, I slathered on the sunscreen and headed out. The weathers was in the 60s and sunny, so I wore shirtsleeves with my blue hoodie sweater. That was more than warm enough. I ended up taking a cab to Canada Place to try to catch the noon shuttle, but it was full, so I had time to kill until the 1:30 shuttle departure. Well, lunch and exploring for 90 minutes, then!
Holland America’s Noordam was at the pier - damn! Big ship! A lot bigger than what I usually see down at the Tampa cruise port, though I’ve encountered the NCL Sun there before.
Along the waterfront outside the convention center, I spotted some cormorants of a different species than Florida, so I started my bird list. Good thing I remembered my binoculars! I’d seen the Mahoney & Sons Irish pub recommended, and their food smelled good, so I had that for lunch. Fish and chips - the fish and tartar sauce was beyond perfect, though the chips were only meh. I had the one piece meal but could have eaten another. (Odd - last time I was sleep deprived, I had to force myself to eat at all.)
The Celebrity Infinity was departing from the other side of the pier, and I watched float planes taking off and landing, and giggled along with the other tourists at the Chevron gas station out in the middle of the harbor.
Traffic was heavy downtown, and I caught the 1:30 shuttle (which arrived about 2:15) up to the mountain. Felt a little shaky on the ride. Maybe staying awake wasn’t such a great idea after 36 hours without sleep. Well, in for a penny, in for a loonie.
Arrived and packed into the big gondola that would take us up the mountain, for the start of some stunning views. I think I read that the gondola holds 40 people. It was rather tight. But oh, the views!
Then stepping out of the gondola at the Peak Chalet, a few hundred yards below the summit - yeow! There's something my poor, delicate sea-level Florida self had forgotten when getting dressed - when you gain elevation, the temperature drops! Thank God for that hoodie and I could have added a coat, hat, scarf, and gloves and still been chilly. It also gets windy when you gain altitude! I'd bought a "Peak Experience" ticket which includes an open chairlift ride all the way to the summit.
That was colder still, but the incredible views were well worth it. Near the lift, I dodged homicidal dive-bombing barn swallows and took some pictures of Grouse Mountains two rescued grizzlies in their habitat.
Each lift chair held four people, so I shared mine with three Chinese ladies who spoke no English, but we still had fun! Much shivering and giggling from all of us.
Also - this wasn't like the Monte Solaro chairlift in Capri, which was only 15 feet off the ground. The Grouse Mountain chairlift is much...much...taller. Try 100 feet. But despite the temperature dropping every second and cold wind, it was gorgeous. We passed the tops of beautiful alpine forest, full of spruce and fir and hemlock from what I've read, and I oggled a beautiful black and yellow striped warbler in the tops of one of the trees. Based on subsequent research, I'm pretty sure he was a Townsend's warbler. Very distinctive colors and very noisy singer. I also saw a hummingbird, much to my surprise given how cold it was, but all I could see was its little green back, so no idea what breed it was. I watched him/her from above as he/she buzzed the flowers nar the ground, glittering in the sunlight. Very pretty. It was a long ascent, and very cold, but so beautiful.
I only stayed on the summit long enough for pictures of the stunning view and the Eye of the Wind turbine. I thought about buying a ticket, but wasn't sure if the thing was heated inside, and it was just too cold to hang around given the way I was dressed.
Temperatures had to be in the low 40s at most, and the wind was high. So I joined a couple from Cypress for the ride down, and we lamented that our genes weren't designed for these conditions.
Blep!
At least returning to the Chalet, the weather felt warm by comparison. I detoured for more bear pictures and to check out the hives and pollination garden. Got pictures of a pair of dark-eyed juncos near the concession stand - yay!
Dodged more kamikaze barn swallows and watched zip line riders go buzzing over the trail down the mountain.
Nope. Nope nope nope!
The line for the gondola back down was loooong, so I browsed the gift shop, bought a bottle of water and my first souvenir, then lined up. A lot of hikers and exercisers have year-round passes and were returning from workouts on the beautiful trails. Damn I wish I lived somewhere interesting with a climate that actually supports outdoor activities for more than two months out of the year.
Going down was an adventure because we swayed each time we passed one of the support towers, to the point where it felt like an uncontrolled descent. (Mum and Gina - the views and wildlife are magnificent, but I rather doubt I'd get either of you up there!)
At the base, the 5 pm shuttle was full, but I obtained a boarding pass for the 6 pm shuttle then headed for the Skyride's Starbucks to warm up. (Aw, come on, this is Canada, and I had yet to try a Tim Horton's!)
Still, hot chocolate in a well-heated coffee shop was a great for a sit down after a chilly afternoon to peruse the pictures I'd taken and read my kindle bird guides to try to identify the birds I'd seen.
The parking lot was surrounded by more forest and full of bird song, so I put the binoculars around my neck and carefully did a circuit of the perimeter, in search of the songbird whose calls kept echoing through the area. No such luck, but I did get a great shot of a pretty little grey warbler who I later identified as a Warbling Vireo.
I also found the habitat for Grouse Mountain's rescued timber wolf, but alas Alpha was not in evidence.
Waiting for the shuttle, we sat on carved wood benches with elegantly curved arms that formed a fist-like shape. This wouldn't be a relevant detail except that when the shuttle arrived, I stood up and turned to get in line and - WHAM!
Whether at work, at home, or on vacation, indoors or outdoors, I'm the epitome of grace around furniture. (Translation - I'm a walking disaster.) And the end of that bench arm was just like a fist when I slammed my quadricep directly into it. There was a chorus of "ooh!" and "ouch!" from the onlookers and one lady rushed to my air. We were both amazed that I (1) stayed on my feet, and (2) didn't cuss up a storm. Normally, I have a pretty foul mouth, but you know those moments when you're in so much pain that all coherent thought deserts you and speech becomes impossible? Yeah. Man, did it throb!
The lady who came to my rescue, Pam, was a Vancouver local, and she and I yakked the whole shuttle trip on many subjects, including the sorry state of American politics, the weather here compared to Florida and her native prairie, and standards of living. (Conclusion: I need to move to Canada whether Fuckface Von Clownstick gets elected or not!)
I saw little more of Stanley Park on this trip than the Lion's Gate bridge and fleeting glimpses of beautiful forest and gardens that we passed on the drive. Next trip (damn United Airlines - I had to remind myself not to let my vacation be overshadowed by the miserable way it started!) We saw Noordam steaming toward the bridge on her departure. One couple on Flight 1180 was supposed to be taking her. I hope they made it, but since we arrived at 10 am, they were probably okay.
From Canada Place I walked down the waterfront to see the 2010 Olympic Cauldron, then down the seawall back to the water.
In Harbor Green Park I went off the seawall to the paths, listening to and searching for the songbirds I kept hearing. No luck, they remained elusive. All I found was another damn robin. (Which is another Smith family inside joke.)
Float planes parked for the evening.
Dogwoods in bloom. Bigger blossoms and fuller than ours in the US Southeast.
The Komagata Maru memorial, only recently dedicated.
Beautiful iris in the Komagata Maru memorial garden.
Harbor Green Park.
Harbor Green Park.
Swanky boats in the harbor.
I detoured a few blocks (uphill - whew!) to Safeway for a twelve-pack of bottled water ($3 CAD, as opposed to $40 US on board the ship!) There were lots of tempting smells from the restaurants I passed, but the package was heavy, so I headed back to the hotel. Was really feeling two full days without sleep by then. But I was hungry enough to walk back down to the hotel's restaurant, the Seawall Bar & Grill, for dinner. I had linguini with prawns and clams. Nothing spectacular, but tasty and filling.
I was staggering while organizing my luggage for embarkation day, but it was worth doing ahead of time. As expected, I had a spectacular round bruise on my quad that looked like I got slugged directly in the leg by a boxer. Finally, at 9:30 pm local time (1:30 am in Florida!) I popped an Ambien and crashed. Incredible. I'd been awake 44 hours without so much as a doze, but it still took a while to fall asleep. Insomnia is a bitch.
Still, I was in a good mood. Nice that a day which started out so badly (and so damn long ago) could end so well.
WARNING: This entry contains profanity. Believe me, if you'd had to deal with this, you would have been spewing profanity like a sailor too. It took all the restraint I had not to curse up a storm out loud.
Day 1: Chicago O'Hell and a United Airlines Bullshit Pass
Sunday, May 29, 2016: Vancouver, Better Late Than Never
4:25 am CDT: It really sucked that the vacation I planned to reward myself for those all-nighters at work began with an all-nighter even more uncomfortable. No sleep to be had for me, much tossing and turning and feeling guilty for just how damned loud that cot creaked if I moved. The lights started coming back up at 4:00, so I gave up and got up. The airport medical center distributed “hygiene packages” with toothbrushes, deodorant wipes, soap. Nice thought, I guess. I was just praying my luggage would get to Vancouver on my flight and that the goddamn flight would get us there. Grouse Mountain, Stanley Park, all those sights in Vancouver that I’d hoped to see today were probably off. I was just too tired.
6:30 am CDT: I got my hands on one of those so-generous $10 meal vouchers and bought a hot chocolate, croissant, and some madeleines at Starbucks for breakfast and a snack aboard that as-yet-hypothetical flight. We watched with ever-decreasing blood pressure as crew members arrived one by one, but AT LAST, we were boarding. Then they killed the engines and all the flight attendants went up front.
I snagged one of them and asked if there was a problem. She claimed it was just someone being added on standby. Then the baggage ramp came back and my blood pressure went still higher. Bullshit. None of us believed a word out of any United Airlines representative’s mouth anymore. And the flight was full, so no way in hell was somebody being ADDED “on standby” after the doors were closed.
6:50 am CDT: We still hadn’t pushed back and there was someone in an Aircraft Maintenance vest up in the front. “Are. You. KIDDING me?!”
6:57 am CDT: “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your final flight verification, 1180 to Vancouver. Just going to close the doors and we’ll be on our way very shortly.” Funny, that was what they’d told us FIFTEEN FUCKING HOURS AGO.
7:00 am CDT: “Still waiting for paperwork from our, uh, dispatcher. Once again, it’s just paperwork, so once we have that paperwork, we’ll be on our way.” Captain, this is the ladies and gentlemen. Why should we believe you when we’ve heard nothing but bullshit since midday yesterday?
7:03: “By law we have to allow you to egress to walk around the gate area, just 5-10 minutes.” Many of us muttered that we would throttle anyone who got off the plane. “If you do get off the plane, bring all your personal belongings with you.” FUUUUUUCK!
7:05 am CDT: “Ladies and gentlemen, we have received that paperwork.” (Cheers) “We just have to wait for that one individual who did get off to get back.” (Boooo) “And we’ll be on our way shortly. We got our paperwork and we’re getting ready to leave.”
7:15 am CDT: Pushback. I thought I might just pass out once we were airborne.
7:26 am CDT: We sat. I’ve never known any airline less informative than United. Usually we at least would get updates on when we were departing. United? Nothing, and they knew damn well how long we’d been sitting.
7:31: “ATC threw us a curve ball and changed our routing to Vancouver, so we’re waiting for confirmation that our paperwork is still good.” ARE. YOU. FUCKING. KIDDING. ME?! “Once we have that we’ll be on our way.” I could not fucking believe this.
7:39: “Flight attendants, please be seated for departure.” But we were still not moving. I could not take this up and down, no news routine. My stomach was in knots, my heart was hammering, and once we started moving, I was praying (and I ain’t a praying girl) please just fucking take off!
7:45 am CDT: We were turning toward the runway, still with no announcement from the cockpit if we were actually leaving.
Around 8 am, we finally took off. Applause.
8:20 am CDT: I was too wired to sleep, and I never sleep on planes to begin with. The in-flight snack arrived. Woo-fucking-hoo. The first leg was typical (crappy trail mix). This leg… see pic. “Stroopwafel?” Actually looked pretty good, but I had a croissant from Starbucks to finish. Tried to nap, still too tense. Guh. Nothing interesting on TV, but the flight map said we were over Iowa. The farms below me formed an amazing grid, and the roads were all at perfect right angles. It looked like a patchwork quilt. (Everyone in my family will now shout “no!” Semi-inside joke for fans of David Suchet as Poirot.) We passed over the American Rockies soon. I wondered how they would look from above. The continental divide at Loveland Pass was the highest I’d ever been, about 11,000 feet. I’m Floridian, mountains impress me.
9 am, MDT: (2 hours into flight) Approaching Helena, Montana, passing just to the north, the landscape went from flat to three-dimensional, with mountains forming jagged ridges beneath us with faint lines of rivers chiseled between them. I was pretty sure sleep would continue eluding me on that flight. I had tried several times without coming close to a doze, despite being shaky all over, eyes burning, stomach still churning from sheer exhaustion and left over tension. I started toying with the idea of forcing myself to tough it out until evening so I could adjust to the time zone. Maybe I could check into the hotel and make myself go to Grouse Mountain or Stanley Park, stay on my feet for a few more hours. I just didn’t know if my body would be capable of that.
9:30: Northeast of Missoula, the mountains grew in scale and relief thanks to the snow still on their peaks and ridges. I snapped a couple of pictures. The most incredible ridge yet appeared just northwest of Missoula, then gave way to softer peaks followed by an even bigger ridge. Ridiculous to take so many pictures from a plane, but they were really beautiful.And these mountains, clearly bigger than anything I had ever seen, were so far below the window. I wondered if this was the continental divide just below us. Two ridges, the west slightly higher than the east, with lower mountains between them just slightly north (maybe east) of Missoula. Then flatness resumed. I really wanted to see these from ground level. Maybe next year.
North of Seattle, 20-30 minutes out of Vancouver, cloud cover was thick as we approached, but below us in the breaks, I could see more snow-lined ridges of mountains. The Cascades, I assumed. On my previous trip to the Pacific Northwest, cloud cover was so heavy that I never set eyes on them, not even Mr. Ranier. As we descended, I looked down at the Cascades and watched our altitude.
32,000 feet…
31,000 feet…
30,000…
29,315…
28,885… holy fuck! I looked straight out. We’d be level with 8000 meters now, and through gaps in the clouds, I could see the Cascades’ ridges. The peaks were still far, far below. Yet we’d be at eye level with Mt. Everest and the other tallest peaks in the Himalayas. Incredible to imagine…but I had no desire to step outside this jet for a taste. I’ll stick to armchair mountaineering and read all about it and look at the pictures, thanks.
10:00 am, PDT: At long, long, long, long last, we touched down in Vancouver, FIFTEEN HOURS after we’d been due. I found myself glued to the window as luggage was unloaded, imagining yet another United Airlines foul-up leaving my bag lost somewhere and me having to replace everything in my one day left.
Vancouver Airport was beautiful. Going through customs was a breeze. US citizens got to use automated machines, and I had nothing to declare except a Stroopwafel and Starbucks Madeleines, which fortunately fell within the exemptions. Then, oh joy! My bag was one of the first on the carousel. I could finally put that ordeal behind me and get on with my vacation.
Hopped a cab to the Westin Bayshore and asked the driver a few questions about the neighborhoods we passed through. The houses and residential streets reminded me of Boulder - exquisite cottages, small lots, less grass and more trees and shrubs. There was some kind of shrub - maybe a rose variety - that grew thick and huge against fences and walls like bouganvillia down south, in as many colors from white to pink to deep red. There was also a white flowering tree with huge, four-petaled blossoms. (I later found out it’s a regional dogwood.) The apartment building style downtown reminded me of Rome.
Checking in at the hotel, the desk agent had the messages on file from Adam and me and sympathized with my exhaustion. She offered me a harbor view room for $15 CAD. Sold.
It was accessible, meaning no bathtub, which was the one downside, but what a view! She confirmed Canada Place, the cruise ship pier and departure point for most excursion shuttles, was about 15 minutes’ walk from the hotel, and I found myself once again trying to keep myself awake with a trip to Grouse Mountain.
Aw, what the hell.
So after a quick shower and changing out of that accursed overnight airport ensemble, I slathered on the sunscreen and headed out. The weathers was in the 60s and sunny, so I wore shirtsleeves with my blue hoodie sweater. That was more than warm enough. I ended up taking a cab to Canada Place to try to catch the noon shuttle, but it was full, so I had time to kill until the 1:30 shuttle departure. Well, lunch and exploring for 90 minutes, then!
Holland America’s Noordam was at the pier - damn! Big ship! A lot bigger than what I usually see down at the Tampa cruise port, though I’ve encountered the NCL Sun there before.
Along the waterfront outside the convention center, I spotted some cormorants of a different species than Florida, so I started my bird list. Good thing I remembered my binoculars! I’d seen the Mahoney & Sons Irish pub recommended, and their food smelled good, so I had that for lunch. Fish and chips - the fish and tartar sauce was beyond perfect, though the chips were only meh. I had the one piece meal but could have eaten another. (Odd - last time I was sleep deprived, I had to force myself to eat at all.)
The Celebrity Infinity was departing from the other side of the pier, and I watched float planes taking off and landing, and giggled along with the other tourists at the Chevron gas station out in the middle of the harbor.
Traffic was heavy downtown, and I caught the 1:30 shuttle (which arrived about 2:15) up to the mountain. Felt a little shaky on the ride. Maybe staying awake wasn’t such a great idea after 36 hours without sleep. Well, in for a penny, in for a loonie.
Arrived and packed into the big gondola that would take us up the mountain, for the start of some stunning views. I think I read that the gondola holds 40 people. It was rather tight. But oh, the views!
Then stepping out of the gondola at the Peak Chalet, a few hundred yards below the summit - yeow! There's something my poor, delicate sea-level Florida self had forgotten when getting dressed - when you gain elevation, the temperature drops! Thank God for that hoodie and I could have added a coat, hat, scarf, and gloves and still been chilly. It also gets windy when you gain altitude! I'd bought a "Peak Experience" ticket which includes an open chairlift ride all the way to the summit.
That was colder still, but the incredible views were well worth it. Near the lift, I dodged homicidal dive-bombing barn swallows and took some pictures of Grouse Mountains two rescued grizzlies in their habitat.
Each lift chair held four people, so I shared mine with three Chinese ladies who spoke no English, but we still had fun! Much shivering and giggling from all of us.
Also - this wasn't like the Monte Solaro chairlift in Capri, which was only 15 feet off the ground. The Grouse Mountain chairlift is much...much...taller. Try 100 feet. But despite the temperature dropping every second and cold wind, it was gorgeous. We passed the tops of beautiful alpine forest, full of spruce and fir and hemlock from what I've read, and I oggled a beautiful black and yellow striped warbler in the tops of one of the trees. Based on subsequent research, I'm pretty sure he was a Townsend's warbler. Very distinctive colors and very noisy singer. I also saw a hummingbird, much to my surprise given how cold it was, but all I could see was its little green back, so no idea what breed it was. I watched him/her from above as he/she buzzed the flowers nar the ground, glittering in the sunlight. Very pretty. It was a long ascent, and very cold, but so beautiful.
I only stayed on the summit long enough for pictures of the stunning view and the Eye of the Wind turbine. I thought about buying a ticket, but wasn't sure if the thing was heated inside, and it was just too cold to hang around given the way I was dressed.
Temperatures had to be in the low 40s at most, and the wind was high. So I joined a couple from Cypress for the ride down, and we lamented that our genes weren't designed for these conditions.
Blep!
At least returning to the Chalet, the weather felt warm by comparison. I detoured for more bear pictures and to check out the hives and pollination garden. Got pictures of a pair of dark-eyed juncos near the concession stand - yay!
Dodged more kamikaze barn swallows and watched zip line riders go buzzing over the trail down the mountain.
Nope. Nope nope nope!
The line for the gondola back down was loooong, so I browsed the gift shop, bought a bottle of water and my first souvenir, then lined up. A lot of hikers and exercisers have year-round passes and were returning from workouts on the beautiful trails. Damn I wish I lived somewhere interesting with a climate that actually supports outdoor activities for more than two months out of the year.
Going down was an adventure because we swayed each time we passed one of the support towers, to the point where it felt like an uncontrolled descent. (Mum and Gina - the views and wildlife are magnificent, but I rather doubt I'd get either of you up there!)
At the base, the 5 pm shuttle was full, but I obtained a boarding pass for the 6 pm shuttle then headed for the Skyride's Starbucks to warm up. (Aw, come on, this is Canada, and I had yet to try a Tim Horton's!)
Still, hot chocolate in a well-heated coffee shop was a great for a sit down after a chilly afternoon to peruse the pictures I'd taken and read my kindle bird guides to try to identify the birds I'd seen.
The parking lot was surrounded by more forest and full of bird song, so I put the binoculars around my neck and carefully did a circuit of the perimeter, in search of the songbird whose calls kept echoing through the area. No such luck, but I did get a great shot of a pretty little grey warbler who I later identified as a Warbling Vireo.
I also found the habitat for Grouse Mountain's rescued timber wolf, but alas Alpha was not in evidence.
Waiting for the shuttle, we sat on carved wood benches with elegantly curved arms that formed a fist-like shape. This wouldn't be a relevant detail except that when the shuttle arrived, I stood up and turned to get in line and - WHAM!
Whether at work, at home, or on vacation, indoors or outdoors, I'm the epitome of grace around furniture. (Translation - I'm a walking disaster.) And the end of that bench arm was just like a fist when I slammed my quadricep directly into it. There was a chorus of "ooh!" and "ouch!" from the onlookers and one lady rushed to my air. We were both amazed that I (1) stayed on my feet, and (2) didn't cuss up a storm. Normally, I have a pretty foul mouth, but you know those moments when you're in so much pain that all coherent thought deserts you and speech becomes impossible? Yeah. Man, did it throb!
The lady who came to my rescue, Pam, was a Vancouver local, and she and I yakked the whole shuttle trip on many subjects, including the sorry state of American politics, the weather here compared to Florida and her native prairie, and standards of living. (Conclusion: I need to move to Canada whether Fuckface Von Clownstick gets elected or not!)
I saw little more of Stanley Park on this trip than the Lion's Gate bridge and fleeting glimpses of beautiful forest and gardens that we passed on the drive. Next trip (damn United Airlines - I had to remind myself not to let my vacation be overshadowed by the miserable way it started!) We saw Noordam steaming toward the bridge on her departure. One couple on Flight 1180 was supposed to be taking her. I hope they made it, but since we arrived at 10 am, they were probably okay.
From Canada Place I walked down the waterfront to see the 2010 Olympic Cauldron, then down the seawall back to the water.
In Harbor Green Park I went off the seawall to the paths, listening to and searching for the songbirds I kept hearing. No luck, they remained elusive. All I found was another damn robin. (Which is another Smith family inside joke.)
Float planes parked for the evening.
Dogwoods in bloom. Bigger blossoms and fuller than ours in the US Southeast.
The Komagata Maru memorial, only recently dedicated.
Beautiful iris in the Komagata Maru memorial garden.
Harbor Green Park.
Harbor Green Park.
Swanky boats in the harbor.
I detoured a few blocks (uphill - whew!) to Safeway for a twelve-pack of bottled water ($3 CAD, as opposed to $40 US on board the ship!) There were lots of tempting smells from the restaurants I passed, but the package was heavy, so I headed back to the hotel. Was really feeling two full days without sleep by then. But I was hungry enough to walk back down to the hotel's restaurant, the Seawall Bar & Grill, for dinner. I had linguini with prawns and clams. Nothing spectacular, but tasty and filling.
I was staggering while organizing my luggage for embarkation day, but it was worth doing ahead of time. As expected, I had a spectacular round bruise on my quad that looked like I got slugged directly in the leg by a boxer. Finally, at 9:30 pm local time (1:30 am in Florida!) I popped an Ambien and crashed. Incredible. I'd been awake 44 hours without so much as a doze, but it still took a while to fall asleep. Insomnia is a bitch.
Still, I was in a good mood. Nice that a day which started out so badly (and so damn long ago) could end so well.