Cleveland Ave in the Squamish Towne Centre. A farmer’s market with a sweet view.
Jill found herself a new man in BC.
One of my favorite locals, the banana slug.
Plenty of wind in Howe Sound for kite boarding and windsurfing. Mount Garibaldi looms in the background.
“Then we found Squamish,” could be the answer to many questions.
Were you climbing much on your trip? “No, and then we found Squamish.”
How was the weather for much of your trip? “Terrible but then we found Squamish”
Were your travels relaxing? “Way too hectic, but…
This town feels real, not yet overran by the outdoor set or the 2010 Olympics. The locals are nice be they Canadian, Scottish- Canadian, Texas-Canadian or whatever combo you like. They ask where we are from and after we explain they give a knowing nod and reply with something to the effect of, “you don’t say.” Our southern accents sound as foreign up here as their various Canadian tones sound to our Kentucky ears.
So we dig life in Squamish, camped here at our little place off Logger’s Lane. We’re close enough to town to make the trip via bike. This week we discovered that the local brew pub, Howe Sound, broadcasts the evening recap of the Tour de France. So for the past couple nights we’ve rolled over there to catch up on the Tour. Afterwards we race back down Cleveland Ave. – the main drag here–attempting to re-enact scenes from the day’s stage on our ancient mountain bikes.
While there are countless ways to enjoy the outdoors here we came for the climbing. Where most towns are surrounded by ever expanding development, Squamish is bordered by a seemingly endless expanse of cliffs. Superb granite cracks from casual to challenging, fingers to hands, to it ate my arm sized, we’ve fought and finessed our way up one stellar route after another.
After a painful stint of bad weather and our own lack planning, our travels improved significantly when we started up the pacific coast but we still didn’t have the quite the right rhythm but then we found Squamish.