The Dreaded Thirteenth Day.
Ahhh, but 13 is a lucky number to the Welsh.
So…Holly would be the only soul brave enough to try out the Whistler classics like A River Runs Through It.
The rest of them were too scared, and went downhilling in the bike park. How odd….
I guess they were put off by some of hte locals referring to it as “A Gorby Walks Through It.”
Hey Darth.
Wouldn’t want to look….silly or anything.
Don’t see any walking here anyway.
Ahhh, with weather like this it doesn’t matter. It’s a good time for all.
I had to get out for a couple of park laps myself. This tour is winding down, and I’m running on empty.
Yes…. feel the power of the Dark Side.
A freerider is born.
No time to be maudlin, but this was one of the most epic trips we’ve done. I’m totally spent, completely empty. Nothing left but to have a good night out on the town, run the kids back to the airport, and send it on the drive home.
God love a Welshman…..






































