The second I positioned inside my car, I knew it would be a never-ending drive. I really hoped the sight that we would be visiting pay off for all the time on the car that I had to put up with my sister. I had to say that the highway was really nice. Off to my right were the mountains, and off to my left, the ocean stretched in all direction. Mountains were everywhere, and island popped up here and there every five minutes or so. Pine trees grew on both sides of Highway 99. We drove with our parents' friend, who could be a great tour guide. At one point, he spotted Grouse Mountain and Mt. Seymour looming in the distance like two huge humps on a camel. He pointed out all the sights on the way, from every mountain to all the bays and islands to our left. Horseshoe Bay was surrounded by mountains and trees; so dazzling it looked like a beautifully painted picture. As our car rounded a curve, I could faintly notice what I suspect was Stanley Park, though I doubted it, beautifully in the distance. As if reading my mind, our friend just wiped my doubt away, assured me that it was one hundred percent Stanley Park. The view was gorgeous. I already loved the highway, and we weren't there just yet.
Though the view alongside the highway was great, the drive still took forever. But of course, we arrived at Shannon Falls at last. I was expecting the waterfall to be huge and elegant. I was expecting a huge stream of water to pour from top of the mountain. I was expecting to be deafened by the sound of water. I was expecting all that stuff, but as always, I let my hope get a bit too high. Shannon Falls was neither huge nor elegant, and instead of pouring water, there was barely a stream of water. The sound wasn't as loud and deafening as I hoped it would be. It wasn't all that bad. The water was coming from all the way from the top, and as the water come down, it bounced of rocks after rocks before flowing into the calm, peaceful pond at the bottom. The water flow wasn't as big as I though it would be. It was as if someone was pouring water from a bottle. The second the lid was opened, the water came out strong and powerful, but as the bottle got emptied, it became broken and unstable. I really liked it, since it was the first true waterfall I've seen so far. I would surely come back next year, hoping to see the bottle getting refilled.
After we were finished with the waterfall, we kept heading north, towards Whistler. This drive was shorter, and the views were the same, with mountains, lakes and trees appearing at every glance. We let our friend-tour guide did what he does best: pointing out landmarks. I really enjoyed and appreciated him feeding us geographical information. If I aced my geography test on B.C, thank you. We arrived at Whistler Village in no time. We were all starving, so lunch sounded the best that circumstance. We visited a spaghetti restaurant, and since we were famished, anything would sound tasty. I gobbled down my soup as well as my spaghetti, then unable to finish my dessert. After we got that out of the way, we wandered around the place and ended up at the place with the chairlift, where you get your bike up the hill, and free roamed downhill. I found that pretty cool, though I was no professional with bikes.
We left as suddenly and quickly as we had came. I enjoyed the day-trip as much as I enjoy soft drinks. Though on our way back, we got jammed in some horrible rush-hour traffic for more than thirty minutes. But after the wonderful day, that didn't seem so bad. You can't be lucky forever!
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