Down for free breakfast this morning, it is very busy. A good number of families in the restaurant with young children. Oh, and what do we have here, a waffle machine. In fact we have a brace of them side by side. We have to wait though for a previous punter who is having difficulties with her waffle. I wonder whether to offer my services now that I am an expert waffle producer, but think better of it as my fellow traveller is standing close by. We breakfast, and then return to our room. We take the lift up, accompanied by two young boys, probably around ten and eight. When we exit the lift it appears as though my companion has something in her eye. I ask whether she is OK, to which she replies “stupid, can’t you tell, it’s just”. Eventually she is able to communicate the reason for the watery eyes; the two young lads have reminded her of holidays past when we were accompanied by our own two boys doing the same sort of trip.
That sorted, we pack the car and drive off. We are on the Trans-Canada Highway today. We make a stop shortly after we leave Revelstoke at the Hemlock Forest. A short boardwalk trail around 400 metres in length meanders through the “rainforest”, with tall cedars above and hemlock growing below the canopy. This is a tranquil spot, and is a cool place to escape the heat of the sun.
We return to the facilities to find two gentlemen “servicing” the composting toilets. I get into conversation with the older of the two, he hears our accents and begins to lament the decline of the British Empire. When we tell him we live in Wales, he says “Ah, Men of Harlech. Zulu is my favourite film”. We chat on, he lamenting the situation with immigration amongst other things. This man is an ideal spokesman for UKIP.
On the road again we are climbing higher and higher through the National Park, and eventually reach the top at Rogers Pass.
There is a lot of road repairing going on here, the surface they are laying is smooth and quiet. On the way we become disturbed when our journey all of a sudden is projected as taking longer than it was when we started. After a few minutes of discussion between us we come to the conclusion that we have crossed the time zone, changing from pacific to mountain time. We have conflicting views as to why this is. My fellow traveller asserts that we are in Alberta, but I am not so sure. I seem to remember that Golden had a BC associated with it when I booked it. As we fear we have lost a crucial hour, we push on to make the farmers market in Golden, scheduled to finish at three this afternoon. We arrive in the main street and park up. We see the signs for the market and head in that direction. When we get to the market square we are a little disappointed. There are only four stalls. We stop at one where a lady is selling jams, pickles and some home made cakes. She also has a display of cedar furniture made by her husband including some for small people. We buy some cakes and a cedar plank for cooking, and then walk over the covered bridge for which Golden is famous.
We arrive early at the hotel after a grocery stop, and are not able to get to the room as it is still being serviced. We determine to get the bags as soon as we can and then make it to the pool for a swim. My fellow traveller has made plans for the laundry as well. We enquire at reception whether there is a laundry, and the lady confirms there is, and advises us we will need some “loonies” for the machines. My fellow traveller looks at me and confirms that we have enough already. (PS a loonie is the familiar name for a one dollar coin).
