Whistler to Cache Creek

I left the campsite south of Whistler, BC and headed north. The day was going to be mostly an all-day driving event. I stopped for gas and topped up the tank for C$115. The station itself was surprisingly nice. It had one of the better convenience stores I’ve seen on this trip with good coffee, fresh croissants, pastries, and even a small grocery section. Since I was already there, breakfast became part of the stop as well.

My itinerary had me driving about 35 minutes south to Garibaldi Provincial Park for what I thought was going to be a short hike to Garibaldi Lake. Once I pulled it up on AllTrails, reality stepped in. The hike was around 12 miles round trip, rated Hard, and estimated at seven to seven-and-a-half hours. That would have consumed the entire day. I went back to the van, reworked the plan, and ended up driving back past where I had stayed the night before. Just figuring that out cost me about an hour and a half of driving. If I had planned a little better, it probably would have been one of the highlights of the trip.

As I continued north on Highway 97, the Cariboo Highway, the weather never really settled down. Heavy rain would come through for ten or fifteen minutes at a time, then disappear just long enough for the sun to break through the clouds and light up an entire valley. The clouds were low and moving fast across the mountains, dragging fog through the forests and down into the valleys.

I stopped over and over trying to photograph what I was seeing. Lakes, mountains, snow on distant peaks, sunlight cutting across hillsides. Almost every time I found a place to pull over, the light completely changed before I could even get out of the van. A scene that looked dramatic through the windshield would flatten out within seconds. Other times the rain would suddenly return just as I stepped outside. Eventually I stopped chasing specific shots and just started enjoying whatever the weather decided to give me.

One pullout overlooked a lake far below the road. A boy had just caught a fairly large fish, probably around two feet long. The family was doing the standard photo routine with everyone gathered around while the fish slowly stopped cooperating. After the pictures, they tried to remove the hook and immediately started struggling with it. At one point they lowered the fish back into the water so it could breathe while they worked on it. The boy’s brother eventually ran off to get another tool. Even from above I could tell frustration was starting to build.

I stood there for probably six minutes watching the whole thing play out. The fish looked exhausted and I honestly didn’t think it was going to survive if they didn’t get it back in the water soon. Eventually they got the hook free. One of them lowered the fish back into the lake and held it upright for a while until it started moving on its own again. Then suddenly it kicked hard and disappeared into the water. It was oddly satisfying to watch after thinking the situation was headed the other direction.

I made it into Cache Creek, British Columbia around 4 pm and pulled into a Chevron station. Apparently gas stations in British Columbia are competing to become grocery stores now. I walked inside, looked around for a few minutes, and somehow walked out with Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia ice cream. I moved the van over to the side lot and probably enjoyed more of it than I should have.

While sitting there, I started looking for places to stay for the night and found a pullout a few miles outside town that people described as quiet with a beautiful view over the valley. Since it was still raining steadily, the view wasn’t exactly my priority at that point.

The turnoff was up a steep dirt road about three-quarters of a mile off the highway. When I reached the clearing, a car was already parked right in the middle of the only flat area large enough for a vehicle. I ended up squeezing into another section and repositioned the van several times trying to get reasonably level. The driver in the other car just sat there the entire time. Around 9 pm he finally left without ever getting out.

The area itself was a little odd. There were shotgun shells scattered around the ground and horse manure all along the edge of the clearing, which made it seem like some kind of trail access area. A couple vehicles drove farther up the road during the evening even though I remembered seeing a sign saying there was no access after three kilometers. I assumed there were probably homes farther up in the hills.

This was only the second day of a lot more driving still ahead of me.