‘007 A Little Shaky, Not Yet Stirring
Here’s the difference in the visage of the Stawamus Chief, the rock formation in Squamish that draws Mrs. Perils, our son and hundreds of rock climbers during the summer. The photo on the right was taken as we were buying groceries just after our arrival last August, with Mrs. Perils nearly vibrating in anticipation. The photo on the left, taken Saturday, well…it’s scenic from a distance.
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After a day of relative sloth on Saturday, our friends joined us Saturday night and we went up to the Whistler ski area to do some cross-country skiing. I’ve only done cross-country one other time, in 1980 or so, so I wasn’t looking to be challenged. As it turned out, the “country” was actually a series of flat, groomed tracks around the fairways of the Nicklaus North golf course. As ungainly as I was skiing, I’m sure the course would have kicked my ass a lot more thoroughly if I’d been golfing it.
After turning in our ski gear, we stopped in Whistler Village for a bite of lunch and to try to hook up with other acquaintances that had been downhill skiing. The village is very upscale, to the point of theme-park-ness, chock-a-block with shops, restaurants and watering holes. Our friends knew of a reasonably-priced little sandwich shop nestled amid all this beautiful bounty and bountiful booty called Ingrid’s, and we snacked gratefully.
After the drive back to Squamish, we set about our New Year’s Eve festivities. Our hostess, who always manages to generate a magical tsunami of great food for the hordes that turn up for meals there, set before us a feast of bouillabaisse, Dungeness crab and assorted side dishes.
We had a great New Year’s Eve. Hope you all did, too.
