I live in British Columbia, and our motto is “Welcome to Beautiful B.C.” because we tell it like it is. The mountains, the coast, the interior, the north; the oceans, the rivers, the lakes, the islands – all of it’s fantastic. We’re spoiled for choice.

It’s also large – B.C. is one-and-a-half again of Texas and nearly four times the size of Great Britain. And it’s still smaller than the Northwest Territories, Quebec, and Nunavut. If Nunavut was a country, it would be the fifteenth largest in the world. You can fit three of Texas in there.

Once you get out of the greater Vancouver metropolitan area, driving anywhere takes a fair bit of time. It’s best to not be in a hurry, to enjoy the journey while anticipating the destination instead.

The road I took out of the lower mainland last week wasn’t the road less travelled – the Sea-to-Sky highway is the main and direct way into Whistler – but it did take me three hours to get there with no stops.

I would’ve been faster, but I’m trying to be a better driver.

The Sea-to-Sky is a beautiful stretch of highway, especially in the fall. I live in an area of mostly coniferous trees, so I don’t experience the brilliance of fall leaves changing very often. But trees are different on the coast and up in the hills. I very nearly regretted not being a passenger so I could stare at the scenery without worrying about crashing.

Nearly. But being by myself means no outside consultations. About anything. I get to pick the tunes, an important consideration when one is on the road. I also decide about pit stops. Photograph taking, however, must wait until the car stops rolling.

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Welcome to Whistler

My three-day getaway was my first real break in five years. Life had other plans, and things got busy, but five years ago, I took a trip. I went with my mom to the Sparkling Hill Spa and Resort near Vernon, British Columbia for my fiftieth birthday (or rather, she took me). It was a wonderful experience. We had a great time.

The location is sublime, the rooms were gorgeous, the facilities lush, and the hot and cold thermal hydrotherapy was brilliant. Plus, there were chipmunks. I love chipmunks.

I like remembering that trip, but I also had a few hard moments with the similarities. It reminded me that we won’t do things together again, my mom and I. These are hard moments. My brain very much wants to shove in regret and condemnations when I feel sad. But that’s just its attempt to avoid grief. Grief is a hard one – almost any other emotion seems preferable.

My mom would’ve loved the Scandinave Spa in Whistler. Guilt tries to worm its way in because of life going on, but I know my mom would be thrilled that I used some of the money she left me to come.

I worried some about meals and eating. Food has been hard for me lately. Eating disorder recovery isn’t a straight line. And meal times in resort towns can sometimes make one feel lonely. Much depends on the mindset. Mine wasn’t the best the evening I arrived.

I decided to honour that feeling and eat in my room. Luckily, I had a kitchenette. I was unaware – I chose the Summit Lodge because of the cost and the pretty, online pictures, so the fridge et al was a nice surprise. I enjoyed my stay there. Though I didn’t use the hotel pool. The ambient air was already quite chilly.

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The Spa

Going to new places when I don’t know details makes me anxious. I don’t like feeling uncertain. I don’t like feeling like I might make some kind of mistake. Map street views are my new happy place. They let me scope out the situation in advance so that I don’t feel so out of control. I can confirm the building’s appearance. I can familiarize myself with the street. I’m not walking in blind.

I was a bit worried about the parking situation at the spa, but pictures and Google Earth confirmed that despite what they mention on the website, there’s plenty of space, especially if you arrive early in the day, which I did.

It’s more accurate to say they prefer you to not drive, but I’m a control freak, and that rarely sits well, so I did.

I booked the Scandinave Spa thermal journey and massage, though not in that order. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a massage. I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed them. Of course, I could’ve lived without the subsequent discovery of a ridiculously long hair growing out of the back of my right thigh. On the bright side, I discovered it before I spent five hours in the spa proper participating in the fifteen-minute hot, thirty-second cold, twenty-minute rest cycle.

There are various hot and cold treatment options. There’s the dry sauna, the hot tub, and the eucalyptus steam. There are cold plunge pools and cold river showers to cool off in. There are solariums, fire pits, and various lounges and nooks to rest and recover in. Hydration stations abound. Silence is the rule. I worried about that one a bit. The inability to speak puts you more in your feels, and I wasn’t sure mine were up to it.

The sound of silence

I’ve been feeling quite sad and fragile of late. I’m mostly going with it. I got a little weepy in the parking lot. And while waiting for the massage. And at various other points in the day. I decided that was okay. It’s a hard thing to lose a parent. It’s okay to miss them, especially as the anniversaries roll around. And this kind of treatment relaxes the emotional control walls.

Silence makes avoidance and denial harder. You’re with your feels. It turned out to be exactly what I was looking for. I spent five hours there, following the hot-cold-rest cycle. I didn’t feel compelled to earn my air or justify how I was spending time. The release of tension from my body and the sense of ease in my spirit felt very much like bliss.

I didn’t do the cold plunge the first cycle. I stuck my toe in, but it was very cold, so I wimped out. I splashed my arms and legs a bit and moved on. I succumbed to peer pressure on the next cycle when it became apparent that all were participating, and submerged. It was wonderful. I’m a convert. Although graduated entry into an ice bath will never be my thing.

I had lunch at their bistro and was reminded that salads can be more than lettuce. Salads are actually one of my favourite things to eat. I bought vegetables, sprouts, seeds, and pickles on the way home and have been indulging in souped-up salads ever since.

I didn’t eat dinner out on night two either. I thought about it – I heard a rumour about a great Italian place – but I was too much of a limp noodle to bother. I had a meal en suite again, with cable television for company. I haven’t had cable in a few years. I’d forgotten how awful many of the shows are. The broccoli and cheese soup I ordered, however, was divine.

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Walkabout

The annoying thing about hotels is early checkout. At the Summit Lodge, checkout is at eleven. Luckily, there are plentiful parking lots. I wasn’t ready to go: I had plans to do some more walking. I’d checked out the different village sections that make up Whistler and visited the mountaintop lifts – not running while they make seasonal changes – but I’d yet to do much exploring around the local forested areas.

I’d no plans for big hiking – I’m not terribly adaptive in my body, and by day three at altitude I already have fat lips, puffy eyes, and ibuprofen for the headache – but I wanted to walk along the Lost Lake trails before I headed out.

They’re short and they stay pretty close to the village, not bad advice for this time of year when you’re not really kitted out and have no bear repellent. Though loud is also a good choice.

The sounds of conversation

The nice thing about Whistler is it’s very hard to get lost in the Village areas. Signs and maps are everywhere. You can even download an app for the trails. It takes you on a guided walking tour. I declined as I was still enjoying the mostly silence, but it’s something to keep in mind for the next time. I will definitely come back.

Partway along the loop, I met up with another solo walker, a day tripper. She was from back east, staying with friends in Vancouver and had taken the bus to Whistler to have a look around. She’d become a bit concerned by the bear warnings – they’re posted in lots of places – and asked me about them. She didn’t find learning that yes, bears are around this time of year very reassuring, so we carried on together for about an hour while we navigated the lake. It was nice to have some conversation.

I was glad she spoke up when I wandered by and talked to me. I’m reminded of how seldom I do the same.

(I have no regrets regarding the lifts. They are high up, and I’d want company and a hand to clutch for those.)

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And then there were some pictures

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