Our second great adventure in Canada was this cool little pedal/paddle tour that we had read about that was a bike ride to a lake, then kayak or canoeing to another lake and then another bit of biking. Now, we both know how to ride bikes, but it’s been easily 5 years since I’ve hurt my ass sitting on one and Slappy couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been on one.

Obviously this was a great plan of ours.

So we got up at the crack of dawn, caught a shuttle and went down to the bike store where they fitted us for bikes and helmets and we got out on our merry way. Well almost, because neither of us knew how to work gears on bikes and then Slappy broke his. Somewhere around the 2nd minute of biking I turned around and saw him pedaling furiously and going no where. He was a gerbil on a wheel, a really determined to not ask for help gerbil. It was possibly one of the funniest things I’ve ever witnessed.

So once we took his bike back and relearned gear shifts and stopped breaking the really expensive mountain bikes, we got on our way. Just so you know, Whistler is hilly. And tiring. I’d like to blame it on the altitude, but we’re like, not that far above sea level. So yea, it’s just me being horribly out of shape.

When we were nearly finished with the first leg of our journey, the guide stopped and explained that we were about to bike down a long downhill segment and that once we passed the second orange cone we needed to slow down because the turn was practically a 90 degree turn.

One of us, *cough*me*cough* is really good at following directions. And even with slowing down, I still swerved off the path trying to make the turn. And when I came to a stop I saw a look of terror on our guide’s face and turned to see Slappy come within inches of smashing face first into a sign. You know when you scare a guide who’s been taking people on bike tours for 11 years you’re doing something awesomely.

By this point, Slappy and I were both thinking that perhaps we over-estimated our athleticism. And by over-estimated I mean assumed we had some.

Our guide stopped to show us a map for the rest of our rides.

So the bike shop was at the green rectangle, and we biked to the red arrow. Then we were going to paddle across Alta Lake, through that skinny little river (near the purple arrows) called the River of Golden Dreams (dude, I’m pretty sure Disney named that river) and end up at Green Lake, at the orange arrow. Once we got there, we’d bike from the orange arrow back to where we started. Frankly, I was thrilled. That was not so bad at all.

We got situated in our kayaks (single kayaks, our guide called double kayaks “divorce boats” and I agreed) and started paddling. After about 10 minutes of going approximately 1/8th of the way across Alta Lake I realized that hey, that map is on a scale that does not compute with my brain. Oh and by the way, Alta Lake was the warm lake and dude, it was colder than a witch’s tit in a brass bra.

After a lifetime, we made it to the river wherein we found out that it had rapids! and obstacles! like bushes! The only thing I told my husband I wouldn’t do was white water raft, which was awesome because now I was going to get to do it in a kayak. Awesome.

We were given recommendations of how to avoid obstacles such as trees, which included leaning forward into them so you didn’t tip your kayak. You know what is the opposite of your instinct when bushes and trees are headed for your face? Leaning forward. It’s like oh here tree, please come scratch my eyes out.

After the first turn, I was stuck in a bush. After the second turn, I almost lost my paddle in a tree. After the third turn I made it out unscathed, only to then run into a tree branch in the water and get completely stuck. Dear tour guide: your suggestions of wiggle! wiggle! is not so helpful.

14 hours later we made it to Green Lake which was absolutely beautiful, also FREEZING and found our bikes. Which frankly, if I had never seen again, I’d have been thrilled about. Also, it was the hottest day of the year and almost 1 in the afternoon, so a nice mountain bike back to the village was pretty much the best idea ever.

We arrived several hours later exactly where we had started and it was only then that I asked how far we were traveling because would you want to know in advance that you had just mountain biked 6 miles and kayaked 5? I think not.

My legs, arms, back, hands are still crying. My ass may never be the same.

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