A damp cedar scent hangs in the air as the trail peels away from Skiers Plaza and the urban pulse of Whistler. Within minutes the village noises shrink to a hush and the Cheakamus River begins to speak — urgent, turquoise, daring you to follow its canyoned course. The guided hike moves with purpose: across a hand-built suspension bridge that sways above a glacial ribbon of water, past a cataract tucked behind moss-draped boulders, and finally to the discordant, color-splashed carcass of the Train Wreck, a scatter of graffiti-covered boxcars that feels more like an outdoor gallery than an accident site.