It was primeval. Some of the hemlocks and Douglas firs we passed were anywhere from 500 to 1,000 years old. Their mossy canopies, swaying hundreds of feet above the ground, have a highly specialized ecosystem all their own, and the deeply grooved bark at their base can be up to a foot thick, able to withstand forest fires. After climbing a series of wooden staircases built into the mountainside, we walked gingerly along a suspension bridge and found ourselves on a timber observation deck high in the boughs of an immense fir. Stretching out before us, about 200 feet over the rushing creek, was a network of steel cables that glinted dully in the sun. Carefully engineered so that no harm comes to the rainforest, they zigzag across the gorge from tree deck to tree deck, from Whistler to Blackcomb and back. The cables range in length from 80 to 2,000 feet, and the heavier you are, the faster you go—up to 50 miles an hour—especially if you curl yourself into a human cannonball. Before I knew it, I was on a step below the tree deck, literally teetering on the edge of an abyss. My harness had been snugged up and snapped onto a thrumming cable, and all that was holding me there was a guide’s steady hands on my shoulders. This is a far cry from the bunny hill, I thought. And then I was flying.
Pinterest
Diary of a Foodie
From Vermont to Vietnam, take a global culinary tour with season three of our award-winning public television show, Gourmet's Diary of a Foodie.
Video
Watch chef Chris Cosentino use a blowtorch, a razor, and a carving knife to butcher a whole pig’s head, which he uses to make porchetta di testa.
