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Revelstoke
On the way to Revelstoke we stocked up with more fruit from a roadside fruit stall. It was the last pick of the peaches so there would be no more after these were sold. Needless to say they were fabulous.
We stopped at the O'Keefe Ranch for coffee and a look around. O'Keefe had been the biggest cattle rancher in BC and made his money selling beef to the railway workers. The museum was a collection of buildings from the ranch as it would have been around 1900. The O'Keefe's house was very opulent with the finest of everything. One side of the main staircase banister was carved to fit the thumb whilst the other was carved to fit the fingers. I haven't seen that before. There was a church - still used for weddings. The day before there had been a kilted wedding complete with piper. There was a barn, cooks house, bunk house, meat store, dairy and a collection of other period homes. It made the Ponderosa look a bit ramshackle.
Just outside Revelstoke we passed through Craigelachie where the last spike on the trans Canadian railway was driven in and the railway was completed. The locals pronounce it Craig - el - ach - y and found it impossible to say it correctly.
Revelstoke is a railway town. It is populated by nice, hard working, railway people who like nothing better than to gather in the Village Idiot Pub, drink the village beer and eat pizza. It was heaving with people wearing hats when we arrived. Not the cowboy hat but the skipped hat that we wear at golf to keep the sun out of our eyes. Men and most women wore them and didn't take them off when the food came.
Our perky little waitress informed us that the kitchen was overwhelmed and it would be an hour till the food came. This was people watching heaven and we weren't moving on for anything. We ordered pizza and salad, local beer and Oganagan wine and settled in for the duration. As it happened our pizza came in half an hour and was well worth waiting for.
Golden
Golden from Revelstoke wasn't such a long day and we arrived around lunchtime. We made our way up the hill to the Kicking Horse Pass Resort and, having eaten our lunchtime peaches in a children's play park, made our way to the Gondola lift to the mountain top. The cloud was halfway down the mountain and we debated whether it would be worthwhile. The salesman in the ticket office showed us pictures from the top and, since it looked ok, we paid our money and took our chance. Having passed directly over a grizzly bear who was sitting in a pond we arrived at the top after a 15 minute ride. We were on the top to the world. I don't think I've been higher in my life - not without the use of wings anyway.
There was a building with a restaurant at the top but we set off along the narrow ridge to explore the mountain. This was breathtaking - sheer drops on both sides from a crumbling path. We retreated for a coffee. The gondola lift was also used by downhill bikers who set off at breakneck speed down the longest cycle descent in North America. Rather them than us.
When we came out of the restaurant a wind had got up and it started to snow. We ran for the next gondola and marvelled at the view. On the way down we saw the grizzly again.
That evening we sampled a French Canadian delicacy - Poutine. Poutine is chips and cheese curds smothered in beef gravy. The hot gravy melts the cheese. Fabulous. The French certainly know how to cook.
White water rafting.
The next day we woke up to rain so we spent the morning in a laundrette and the afternoon getting very wet. We had signed up for the Kicking Horse River white water rafting experience. Grades 3 up to 4+ rapids. We were kitted out with wet suits, bootees, fleeces, splash jackets, life jackets and crash helmets. Then came the most terrifying safety briefing ever. Every conceivable situation after you have fallen in the river. When to swim on your back, when to swim on your front, how to find your way out from an upturned raft, how to hold the safety rope. When you fall into a raging torrent that was a glacier the day before all you are going to do is panic. They said that each boatman had about 80 "swimmers" per season. A rough calculation in my head concluded that about 1 in 20 passengers fell in. Not the best odds.
The first few miles were pimps. Fairly slack water. We practiced our paddling. 1st gear, 2nd gear flat out. We would need discipline, timing and hard work when it came to the rough stuff. And so it proved.
We were put in a boat with a family of Saudi Arabians. The mother was the brains and brawn of the family and proved to be a good paddler. The father was an idiot and had fathered an idiot son. The daughter was a Saudi Princes who was more concerned about her mascara running than drowning. The last 10 km throughout the Kick Horse Pass got interesting. The rapids came thick and fast with hardly any time between to draw breath. The commands from our boatman also came thick and fast. 2nd gear, flat out, hold on! On one steep section we were thrown against the canyon wall and I thought that we were about to flip the boat but we bounced back and all was well. On one descent we didn't get our paddling right and did a 360 turn. That was a bit scary too! We made it to the end - frozen to the bone, soaked to the skin but still alive. We were taken back to base camp in a rickety old bus. 30 rafters in wet suits. Water running out of our arms and our legs. The bus steamed up quickly. A hot communal shower soon had core temperatures back to normal. Our B&B had a hot tub and we sat in the rain enjoying a soak. Great end to the afternoon.
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