Day 12 of How to Survive a Family Road Trip: Goodbye, Canada & Howdy, USA

Because our friends think I just can’t get enough of the wondrous and potentially fatal travails of mountain biking, they dragged me on one last ride, bright and early!

You know what the addition of little sleep to couple of long hours of mountain biking makes? A big, steamy pot of HELL. Because, why spend my final morning in Canada sleeping, when I could be performing back-breaking and strenuous physical torture?

If you recall yesterday’s little biking adventure, you will remember how dismally I fared. Luckily today was different (may the gods of Whistler be praised), and I was spared from a dirt-faced and bloody fate. That doesn’t mean that my trek wasn’t even more difficult than yesterday’s. In fact, maybe one big, melodramatic fall would have been better than the single, unending, Herculean journey that characterized my wee hours of the morning.

Today, I decided to spare my wonderful host and friend from paying for me again, and so I happily borrowed his son’s bike. For the first half of the biking trek, all was well. The bike, though a little finicky when changed into the lower gears, had proved so far to be a decent one. It was right around this time that my friend decided to take us on some more challenging trails than we had yesterday. Since we lacked the constriction of two pint-sized whiners, his plan for just us today seemed appropriate.

His son’s bike had waited—yes, I am positive it willfully did this to me—until I was skidding down the face of a root-infested hill to magically lower its seat. Now in proper posture to ride a clown-bike, I hobbled and kicked my way up the adjoining hill until I could stop and adjust the seat to a bearable height. We continued onward and my spirits continued to spiral downward (ironically mimicking the continued action of the damned bike seat).

Twenty-four bike adjustments later, I still would not be fully deterred. I was going to finish these trails even if my torso was permanently mangled by the scrunching effects of this dastardly bicycle.

Finally, after another hour or so, we reached the end of the trails. Hunched over like a severely aged babushka, I shuffled back to the car, and we returned to the cabin one last time.

After saying our goodbyes to our friends and, more importantly, to their incredibly awesome resort of a house, we packed into our not-so-resort like Volvo, and drove to the border.

Our crossing went flawlessly with the help of my superior border-crossing skills. Since I’m just so compassionate and wouldn’t want any of you to be sent to the slammer (and subsequently, be unable to read my hubs), I will provide you with some essential wisdom for whichever borders you may cross in your future travels.

By now you may be thinking, “Really, Chris1? You would even try to intimidate Border Patrol?!” And the answer is, “Duh! Why not?!”

There’s a reason why I always come back to this tip in so many of my advice sections: intimidation works! The Border Patrol is just like everyone else—put the fear of you into them and they will respect you and leave your car alone. Think of it this way: they probably got a job as Border Patrol because they were seeking to acquire some meager form of power to help fulfill their otherwise pathetic and depressing lives, and raise their low self-esteem. If you can tap into these weak points of their self-image, I guarantee you that they will cower in your wake.

When they reach your window, avoid answering their requests for your permit and questions about your intentions for traveling to their country. Remain silent, and quickly place anything sharp or illegal that you may have purchased while in the foreign country all around you. Fill the spaces in cup-holders, the dashboard, windows, everywhere that is most visible to the Border Patrol. If this show of wealth and potential danger isn’t enough to scare them into leaving you alone, try insulting them about their weight, age, mother, etc. If that doesn’t seem to work, get out of your car and flaunt your muscle. Make yourself look big. If you don’t have an intimidating set of gigantic muscles like mine, you can still make yourself seem larger. A rain poncho or a large blanket will do. Just throw it over your head as you would the hood of a cape, and flail it around so that it expands. If all else fails, attack. Aim for sensitive areas like the face and below the belt. Next thing you know, you will have successfully crossed back into your home country!

I can’t believe the time has finally come to leave Canada. I’ll spare you additional, generalized idolization of this wonderful country, and stick to a few specific recaps of the day.

My sleeping habits are infamous. During the summer, even while on vacation, I rarely wake up earlier than 10 am unless forced. So you can just imagine how much I truly loved mountain biking the previous day that I was enthusiastic about getting up at 8 in the morning for some additional, quality, last-minute biking time.

I highly recommend that those who bike in Whistler bike early. While the trails weren’t necessarily crowded yesterday afternoon, they were certainly not the tranquil picture they were this morning. Yesterday, we had to make multiple stops to allow incoming bikers to go carefully past us. This morning, we only had to stop for people two or three times. The whole place takes on such a beautiful character in the mornings too. The air is clear and the sun is soft. The early daylight gives everything an almost sacred feel. It’s really quite magical.

When we arrived in Seattle later that day, we were blown away by the colorful bustle buzzing in the city’s famous Pike Place Market. We were disappointed to learn though, that the Market closes up shop at around only 5 pm. And our long search for a parking space cheaper than $8 lost us most of the precious little time we had to tour what was still open by the time we got there.

When we first approached the Market, I was surprised by the large crowd of people directly stationed just within the main entrance. It only took a couple more steps to realize what stand in particular they were gawking at. The distinct smell of fish hit my nose far before seeing the sign. It was the famous Fish Market. I found it strange though, that there were more people snapping photos and so on, than there were actual customers purchasing fish! The sheer selection available in the Fish Market is indeed pretty incredible. There are several long wooden displays overflowing with ice and covered extensively in so many different kinds of fish that you would think they raided an aquarium. 

Soon after, my mom and I headed over get our tickets to the famed Underground Tour. It is first-come-first serve, so they recommend you arrive no later than 20 minutes prior to your tour. The prices for this 90 minute tour are $7 for kids (7-12), $12 for students with a valid college ID and seniors 60 years or older and $15 for adults (18-59). The tour was great. A campy middle-aged man led the tour and kept all twenty or so of us very entertained. Some of the jokes are pretty forced, but overall, he gave a very charming walk through the underground. Those who are scared dark, dank and creepy places should avoid UT, because that’s pretty much all you will be seeing for the next hour and a half. If you share my love of ghost tours, you will feel right at home on this tour. Combine this naturally eerie ambiance with the constant stream of the eccentric and corrupt history surrounding the Underground provided by your lovely tour guide, and the Underground Tour makes for a very enjoyable family evening in Seattle.

Stay tuned for Day 13 for more hubs on all my funky exploits, as I take you through the West Coast from the comfort of your own computer screen!