Today I spent in the kitchen. Well, mostly. First I made a gigantic batch of Granola which turned out really well. I made half the batch per the traditional Sky Ranch recipe, and to the other half I added peanut butter. They are both delicious. Then, I set out to carve the giant pumpkin I bought in Vancouver last week. While carving it, I salted and baked the seeds, and took some of the pumpkin meat to make into soup. At least soup was what I intended.
After boiling the pumpkin for awhile, It had a consistency closer to pie filling than soup, so I added sugar, cloves, cinnamon and ran with it. I boiled the concoction for about 2 hours, then baked it for 40 minutes. What I wound up with was a not-pie, not-soup, not-quite-pudding substance. It tastes quite good, but it has a very strong flavor. I think I'm going to buy a gallon of ice cream, melt it, stir the pumpkin into it, re-freeze it and have pumpkin ice cream (Thanks for the idea Janey).
After all that cooking and washing of pots (it doesn't sound like much on paper but I cooked straight from 12pm-4), I decided to take a bike ride. I headed south towards the village, and took bike trails down towards Green lake. I had hoped there was a trail following the far shore of the lake, but to my dismay the bike trails dumped me on the Nicklaus North golf course. Undeterred, I discovered that the railroad tracks ran on the far side of the lake. (Walking on railroad tracks is something I do not recommend. As you will see, my cerebral function is not quite up to snuff.) I saw a large coyote on the tracks, but was unable to take his picture.
I followed the tracks for about 30 minutes. Riding one's bike on a railway line is more similar to the way a farmer rides than the way a lady rides, FYI. Stick to trails and roads and your prostate will thank you. But, the woes of my buttocks were forgotten as I looked across the lake at the hanging glaciers to the west.
It was nearing dusk, and I needed to get back to the road, which follows the opposite shore of the lake. As I reached the north end of the lake, I came to the realization that there was likely to be a large river exiting the north end of this gigantic lake, blocking my path to the road. Crap. The tracks didn't cross the river, so there was no bridge.
I decided I'd have to cross the river. Turning back would have meant riding an extra 1.5 hours in the dark, and I had no lights. Unfortunately, the river we're talking about is fast and glacial blue. Kind of intimidating, in other words. To top it off, I had with me Kim's camera. In my life I have owned two cameras. I have systematically destroyed both of them, one by dunking it in a river, and the other by dunking it in the ocean. I did not want to destroy this camera.
So, I wrapped it in my gloves and hat, then put it in the hood of my raincoat and cinched the elastic tight to hold it in. I laced my shoes, shouldered my bike, and stepped into the river. Thankfully, the water never got deeper than my bellybutton. 2/3 of the way across, I hit a sketchy section. Fearing I would fall, I took the camera (it was very well padded for just this reason) and threw it across to the opposite shore. Several minutes later I made it safely across, hopped on my bike and rode the 10 minutes home. Apparently the curse of the camera only applies to cameras I own. Thank God.
After boiling the pumpkin for awhile, It had a consistency closer to pie filling than soup, so I added sugar, cloves, cinnamon and ran with it. I boiled the concoction for about 2 hours, then baked it for 40 minutes. What I wound up with was a not-pie, not-soup, not-quite-pudding substance. It tastes quite good, but it has a very strong flavor. I think I'm going to buy a gallon of ice cream, melt it, stir the pumpkin into it, re-freeze it and have pumpkin ice cream (Thanks for the idea Janey).
After all that cooking and washing of pots (it doesn't sound like much on paper but I cooked straight from 12pm-4), I decided to take a bike ride. I headed south towards the village, and took bike trails down towards Green lake. I had hoped there was a trail following the far shore of the lake, but to my dismay the bike trails dumped me on the Nicklaus North golf course. Undeterred, I discovered that the railroad tracks ran on the far side of the lake. (Walking on railroad tracks is something I do not recommend. As you will see, my cerebral function is not quite up to snuff.) I saw a large coyote on the tracks, but was unable to take his picture.
I followed the tracks for about 30 minutes. Riding one's bike on a railway line is more similar to the way a farmer rides than the way a lady rides, FYI. Stick to trails and roads and your prostate will thank you. But, the woes of my buttocks were forgotten as I looked across the lake at the hanging glaciers to the west.
It was nearing dusk, and I needed to get back to the road, which follows the opposite shore of the lake. As I reached the north end of the lake, I came to the realization that there was likely to be a large river exiting the north end of this gigantic lake, blocking my path to the road. Crap. The tracks didn't cross the river, so there was no bridge.
I decided I'd have to cross the river. Turning back would have meant riding an extra 1.5 hours in the dark, and I had no lights. Unfortunately, the river we're talking about is fast and glacial blue. Kind of intimidating, in other words. To top it off, I had with me Kim's camera. In my life I have owned two cameras. I have systematically destroyed both of them, one by dunking it in a river, and the other by dunking it in the ocean. I did not want to destroy this camera.
So, I wrapped it in my gloves and hat, then put it in the hood of my raincoat and cinched the elastic tight to hold it in. I laced my shoes, shouldered my bike, and stepped into the river. Thankfully, the water never got deeper than my bellybutton. 2/3 of the way across, I hit a sketchy section. Fearing I would fall, I took the camera (it was very well padded for just this reason) and threw it across to the opposite shore. Several minutes later I made it safely across, hopped on my bike and rode the 10 minutes home. Apparently the curse of the camera only applies to cameras I own. Thank God.
This is a shot looking South across Green Lake at Whistler Mountain. To take this photo I am standing with my back to the road. The tracks are on the opposite shore, and the golf course sits over there somewhere.
"Let me see yo' grill, yeah yeah, yo' grill"
A sweet old truck I found between the railroad tracks and the river.
Same truck.
This is the 8th hole of the Nicklaus North golf course. That is bear scat. Whister has a bear problem. Kim, one of the housemates, was late getting home this evening because there was a bear between the exit and the car. It was sitting directly outside a glass door, and hung around for 30 minutes before sauntering off. The same bear actually got inside a building the other day, so i'd say its life expectancy is plummeting.
Thanks for reading!
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