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Williams Lake, BC to Sedro-Woolley, WA
The distance from Williams Lake to the Seattle area didn't seem too great on the map, so we slept in till 8:00 and didn't really get on the road until 10:00. An hour later we reached the turnoff onto BC 99 to Vancouver, which rose out of the Fraser River valley and into high-desert country looking very much like the Sierra foothills. The road was very twisty and narrow, and especially as we passed Lillooet was full of little one-lane bridges and hairpin turns as it climbed and descended steep mountain canyons. Snowcapped mountains rose ahead of us, affording us some great photo-opportunities along calm and reflective alpine lakes. Finally the road descended a series of tight hairpins and reached the river flats at Pemberton, then wound its way along the bottom of a narrow river gorge to Whistler, where we saw a truly astonishing number of hitchhikers trying to get to Vancouver. The surrounding mountains had clearly marked ski runs all over them, albeit no snow at this time of year; the resort complexes all looked the part of obscenely expensive retreats come winter.
The road widened after Whistler, and finally we started making reasonably good time; we climbed to a snowbound jagged skyline and then back down to the small town of Squamish flanked by mountains leaping straight out of the plains almost uncannily like the road into Anchorage from the north. This quickly gave way to a road under heavy construction following the steep cliffs along the inlet leading to the sea and Vancouver harbor (they're improving the approach to Whistler in anticipation of Vancouver's Olympic bid). We met up with Trans-Canada Highway 1—at its beginning point, at the ferries—and 99 joined it on the way into the city. Shortly afterwards we realized it was 5:30 PM on a weekday—traffic suddenly coagulated around us and took us to a standstill, which was a real novelty after all those days in the wide open. We called Freddie to let him know our status, and then it took nearly half an hour to get into the city; only too late did I realize that I'd missed the exit for downtown on 99, so we had to turn around and backtrack on 1 back to 7A/Hastings, which we followed into downtown and got back on track with 99. This highway became a downtown one-way surface street very much reminiscent of 19th Avenue through San Francisco. Lots of traffic lights, but we made no more wrong turns. We got gas in Richmond, a southen suburb of Vancouver, and it was pumped by a jocular fellow who was hopeful that I pay him in U.S. currency, which he seemed to regard as someone would who was trying to sneak across the border in someone's trunk.
We reached the border (took the seemingly less-crowded BC 15, parallel to 99 and I-5) and took about 15 minutes getting across because of the logjam of cars; the actual inspection took about 30 seconds, even allowing for the severe-looking guard's becoming theatrically agitated at my explanation that Paul and I were heading "home" to San Jose, his Canadian citizenship notwithstanding (he said "Good thing you explained he's flying back to Toronto in a few days; I was just about to not let you in." Haw haw). Then we were back on I-5 and wide-open interstate for about 40 miles down to Cook Road and Sedro-Woolley, the rural town where Freddie lives. Called for directions and got to the house at about 9:00, when we'd been hoping to get there by 5:30. Ah well—they were waiting for us, and we all (him and his roommate) went out to a local Mexican place where we got giant burritos and enjoyed the staff's shrieking laughter from the kitchen. Then we returned home to cots and couches and Harvey Birdman DVDs. Inexpensive lodging, at any rate, and friendly hospitality!
Tomorrow we're thinking to reach Redding or thereabouts, so we can make it to Redwood Valley by midday Friday and be debriefed before finally returning home in time for Friday night dinner.