BEST ROAD BIKE WOMEN

Lost Lake in 1977

Lost No Longer

There's a little lake in Whistler whose name clearly demonstrates the changes in the valley in the last couple of decades, in fact the name has actually become something of an oxymoron. Anyone who has been up there on a warm summers' day knows that Lost Lake is anything but.
On a sunny Saturday in July the manicured lawn above the beach is cluttered with bar-b-q's, towels, picnic baskets, ghetto blasters, and all the other things people seem to find it necessary to take to the beach. Kids of all ages paddle in the water. The rafts are often so crowded their decks are awash. It often resembles, in smaller scale, Kits or (on a particularly busy day) English Bay beach in Vancouver. Lost Lake can be accessed by road or by wide gravel paths, paths that not so long ago almost got paved until local opposition halted that misguided effort.
Consider this description of Lost Lake taken from the guide book Exploring Garibaldi Park by Dan Bowers.
"This easy stroll leads through fragrant pine woods to a small beaver lake with excellent trout fishing. The trail starts from the road end." At the south end of Fitzsimmons Dr. the turn off was right beside Nancy Greene's old house.
"At the first fork, take the left trail. From here the track soon leads into a sunny forest of young white pines, fragrant with resin." The author gets diverted here by the white pines and notes that 12,000 wooden matches are struck every second in America and that those matches require the cutting of almost three quarters of a million mature pines. Then he gets back on track.
"The trail is short. Soon, around a bend, a bit of a downhill stretch leads to a clearing by the lake. A grove of big old trees here makes a good place for a picnic. Even if you are no fisherman you should take a fishing rod on this trip. The trout here weigh up to four pounds." He lists the best spots and likely baits.
"But there is more to Lost Lake than fish. This small pond attracts wild creatures of many kinds. Occasional ospreys come to fish the lake. There is always a flutter of smaller birds. Kingfishers are common. The woods are filled with the rustle of unseen creatures. By the picnic place there is a beaver lodge right at the shore. A thin trail leads to a large beaver dam by the lake outlet. The beavers have become cautious, though, and usually only appear at dusk." He goes on to talk about the vegetation and ends with a warning.
"Because the water tastes of 'beaver' it is best to bring your own drinkinables. The lake water is as warm as restaurant soup by midsummer. Local people often swim here." Whether he's warning people about the beavers or the locals is unclear.
That last sentence is the only thing that remains true about Lost Lake today.
Of course the evolution (devolution?) of the lake was inevitable. It is a warm lake. Who would ever want to swim in Green Lake? Nita and Alpha sometimes warm up, but it takes a hot summer. Alta Lake warms up but it never gets as warm as Lost Lake does. Of course people would trek to Lost Lake to swim, and trek they did, in ever increasing numbers over the years.
The docks on the east side of the lake used to be the best place to swim from because what is now the beach used to be a tangled mass of undergrowth and the bottom of the lake was soft and squishy. Swimming from the docks allowed people to avoid touching the bottom altogether.
Swimtrunks were optional and many eschewed them. Thousands and thousands of people have pointed their naked buttocks at the sun on those docks over the years.
The first freestyle water ramp in Canada was built above the docks. Construction started in the summer of 1977. Local freedoggers of the day including Dave Lalik (who bucked the trend and actually moved to Australia from Whistler years ago to fill the void migration in the other direction was creating), Dave and Daveanna, and others (who still live in the valley and are trying to forget their freestyle past so they will remain nameless), worked for a whole summer building a ramp they could practice their double backs, mobius flips, and lay fulls on. The ramp was covered with green meanies that were taken from the old Olive chair downloading ramp that used to come right into the courtyard by L'Apres. That ramp is another freestyle story that might be told another time.
Doggers did not want to fall on the ramp because the green meanies would literally eat them. Skis didn't slide very well on the meanies and many lubricants were investigated to improve glide. A Sunlight soap solution didn't work all that well, Paming the bottom of skis helped a bit, but ultimately DL handcleaner was found to produce the best speed so tubs of the gooey stuff could be found at the top of the ramp.
The ramp wasn't just used by skiers. As time went by and as mountain bikes became popular young whipp

Back in 1978 or so...


Lost No Longer

There's a little lake in Whistler whose name clearly demonstrates the changes in the valley in the last couple of decades, in fact the name has actually become something of an oxymoron. Anyone who has been up there on a warm summers' day knows that Lost Lake is anything but.
On a sunny Saturday in July the manicured lawn above the beach is cluttered with bar-b-q's, towels, picnic baskets, ghetto blasters, and all the other things people seem to find it necessary to take to the beach. Kids of all ages paddle in the water. The rafts are often so crowded their decks are awash. It often resembles, in smaller scale, Kits or (on a particularly busy day) English Bay beach in Vancouver. Lost Lake can be accessed by road or by wide gravel paths, paths that not so long ago almost got paved until local opposition halted that misguided effort.
Consider this description of Lost Lake taken from the guide book Exploring Garibaldi Park by Dan Bowers.
"This easy stroll leads through fragrant pine woods to a small beaver lake with excellent trout fishing. The trail starts from the road end." At the south end of Fitzsimmons Dr. the turn off was right beside Nancy Greene's old house.
"At the first fork, take the left trail. From here the track soon leads into a sunny forest of young white pines, fragrant with resin." The author gets diverted here by the white pines and notes that 12,000 wooden matches are struck every second in America and that those matches require the cutting of almost three quarters of a million mature pines. Then he gets back on track.
"The trail is short. Soon, around a bend, a bit of a downhill stretch leads to a clearing by the lake. A grove of big old trees here makes a good place for a picnic. Even if you are no fisherman you should take a fishing rod on this trip. The trout here weigh up to four pounds." He lists the best spots and likely baits.
"But there is more to Lost Lake than fish. This small pond attracts wild creatures of many kinds. Occasional ospreys come to fish the lake. There is always a flutter of smaller birds. Kingfishers are common. The woods are filled with the rustle of unseen creatures. By the picnic place there is a beaver lodge right at the shore. A thin trail leads to a large beaver dam by the lake outlet. The beavers have become cautious, though, and usually only appear at dusk." He goes on to talk about the vegetation and ends with a warning.
"Because the water tastes of 'beaver' it is best to bring your own drinkinables. The lake water is as warm as restaurant soup by midsummer. Local people often swim here." Whether he's warning people about the beavers or the locals is unclear.
That last sentence is the only thing that remains true about Lost Lake today.
Of course the evolution (devolution?) of the lake was inevitable. It is a warm lake. Who would ever want to swim in Green Lake? Nita and Alpha sometimes warm up, but it takes a hot summer. Alta Lake warms up but it never gets as warm as Lost Lake does. Of course people would trek to Lost Lake to swim, and trek they did, in ever increasing numbers over the years.
The docks on the east side of the lake used to be the best place to swim from because what is now the beach used to be a tangled mass of undergrowth and the bottom of the lake was soft and squishy. Swimming from the docks allowed people to avoid touching the bottom altogether.
Swimtrunks were optional and many eschewed them. Thousands and thousands of people have pointed their naked buttocks at the sun on those docks over the years.
The first freestyle water ramp in Canada was built above the docks. Construction started in the summer of 1977. Local freedoggers of the day including Dave Lalik (who bucked the trend and actually moved to Australia from Whistler years ago to fill the void migration in the other direction was creating), Dave and Daveanna, and others (who still live in the valley and are trying to forget their freestyle past so they will remain nameless), worked for a whole summer building a ramp they could practice their double backs, mobius flips, and lay fulls on. The ramp was covered with green meanies that were taken from the old Olive chair downloading ramp that used to come right into the courtyard by L'Apres. That ramp is another freestyle story that might be told another time.
Doggers did not want to fall on the ramp because the green meanies would literally eat them. Skis didn't slide very well on the meanies and many lubricants were investigated to improve glide. A Sunlight soap solution didn't work all that well, Paming the bottom of skis helped a bit, but ultimately DL handcleaner was found to produce the best speed so tubs of the gooey stuff could be found at the top of the ramp.
The ramp wasn't just used by skiers. As time went by and as mountain bikes became popular young