One of the great things about travel is that can be an adventure. I had one on the way to Whistler, British Columbia, recently – an adventure that drove home some fascinating lessons.
In Flight News, Cheapflights preaches the virtues of off-peak travel – Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays domestically. Believe it. On my flight from Atlanta (ATL) to Vancouver (YVR) via Los Angeles (LAX), I booked a seat up front in Coach, the better to exit what I presumed to be a crowded 767-300. When I sat down at the window — my favorite perch — a guy plopped down next to me. There went the extra space. Crunch city. A lucky few around me got upgraded from Coach to First Class, the land beyond the curtain.
Then, on a whim — after they’d closed the cabin door — I took a chance, grabbed my laptop, went in search of more space in the back of the airplane. Success. The place was virtually empty! So conditioned have we become to seek a seat up front that virtually nobody booked in the back. As this was Tuesday, the load was light. I had the row to myself – this as passengers up front in First Class packed the place. In the end, what you want is space on an airplane. And I had plenty.
The off-peak trip en route from LAX to Vancouver was similarly uncrowded, just 11 people on an EMB-145 regional jet built to hold 50.
Lovely. But it was on landing that I was brought back to earth. I’d booked a rental car for what I was told would be a scenic two-and-a-half hour drive north of Vancouver along Highway 99 to Whistler, where I was covering the Adventure Travel Trade Association show for Cheapflights. What they didn’t tell me was that the road was being rebuilt for the 2010 Olympics.
Wanting to save a bit of money, I did a dumb thing, declining to rent an on-dash GPS. Instead, I’d make do with a map and written directions. I should have changed my mind and taken the technology. I got lost.
Canadians are particularly pleasant people. After wandering around Horseshoe Bay for half an hour I pulled into a gas station and asked one of them how to get to Highway 99 North. He obliged, and I was on my way…into hell.
Shrouded by rain and fog, on a cold night in October, Highway 99 was the sort of roadway that might harbor the Hotel California. You can check out anytime you want, but you can never leave. Potholes cratered the road, rocks rumbled down on the road, grim signalmen in yellow vests held up traffic interminably, and frustrated drivers bent on kicking back at one of the area’s resorts slalomed past terrified folks like me who were just trying to cling to the side of the mountain road.
Four-and-a-half hours after leaving the airport, I got to the hotel.
Lessons: if you’re going to drive, rent GPS. Larger lesson: don’t drive at all. Fly. There’s air service to Whistler. I just didn’t take it.
Air travel can be frustrating, but it’s driving that’s the real risk. Sure, we gripe about security, delays, and sometimes-packed airplanes. But flying is still the fastest, safest way to get there. And flying on the right date, in the right part of the plane, renders the experience an off-peak pleasure.
It’s ground transport that can get you. Next time you travel, watch out for those falling rocks.
© Cheapflights Ltd Jerry Chandler
The views expressed in this column are those of the author and do not reflect the views of Cheap Flight News
