We were enjoying the last drops of a bottle of wine in Nakusp when Allan got it in his head to start calling everyone in his address book. He got down to “G” and rang his friend George in Ottawa.
“George! It’s Allan!”
“Hang on. I’ve just got to make this shot.” …Fwack!
“Where the hell are you?”
“I’m playing golf.”
“Where?”
“Windermere.”
“Windermere BC?”
“Yeah, I’m out playing golf with some friends.”
“Holy sh*t, that’s just 50 miles from where we! Stay right there, we’re coming to meet you!”
Allan seemed to forget that there were mountains between him and us. It took us the whole of the next day to go up around Revelstoke, down through Golden to Windermere.
It was an adventure. Finding George. How hard could it be? Windermere wasn’t a big town. How many golf courses could there be in a small town like that?
What we didn’t know was that Windermere is right in the middle of one of BC’s golf meccas.
We called George. No answer. We called again. Still no answer.
We drove to one golf course. No George. We drove to another golf course. No George. It was getting late. We passed by another golf course. Let’s just check one more. No George. But his friend’s name was on the roster for the morning. Allan sweet- talked the clerk to give him the phone number. It was his wife’s number in Alberta. Allan called her, got the number for George’s friend who finally connected us with George.
A late night supper together and an early tee time was the perfect ending to our little scavenger hunt.
