Ski Lodge Caretakers

words :: Cooper Saver were considered “too fat” for the era. Over the years, the wildhaired, exuberant Rabbit would become one of Whistler’s most recognizable icons.

Imagine living in the Whistler Roundhouse or the Rendezvous on Blackcomb—full-time, rent-free, with a ski pass provided. That was the life of an alpine caretaker, the Whistler dream job you never knew existed.

Caretaker is a vague title consisting of a little bit of everything. Wake up early, shovel the decks and check the snow meter to call head operations with the pow report (this position predates everyone’s favourite snow-stake webcam). The job also meant food prep, cleaning and housekeeping. Obviously, caretakers got first tracks.

The bad news: This position was terminated in the late ‘80s. The good news: Some of those lucky few OG ski bums that got to live this dream are still around, and they remember it pretty well.

“At first, he was very clean-cut and living in the city,” says his daughter Jess, aka Pika. “He came to Whistler one weekend and was like, ‘That’s it. I’m never going back. This is paradise.’” With her parents as alpine caretakers, Jess grew up on the mountain until age 7. She would ski to school, take the gondola or snowcat home, and most of her free time was spent in the alpine. Pika’s restaurant in the Roundhouse is named after her.

It all began in 1978, when quintessential Whistler local John “Rabbit” Hare created the job of living on the mountain.

It all began in 1978, when quintessential Whistler local John “Rabbit” Hare created the job of living on the mountain. Rabbit and his wife, Rocky, moved into a shack near at midstation, then later to the Roundhouse to “take care of things.” Their team grew with the addition of their daughters Jess and Tara in the following years. People thought Rabbit was crazy for having his family based on the top of a ski hill. They said the same in the early ‘90s when he’d zip into the lift line on his 100 mm underfoot skis, which

Jess’s early exposure to an unconventional lifestyle of skiing, working in solitude with her folks atop a mountain (along with a bit of after-hours partying), informed a philosophy for her: “It’s important to enjoy life and live how you want to live, because life is short and anything’s possible. And even figuring out how to do it without a lot of money.” She remembers scolding lifties at age 5 for assuming she didn’t know how to load the chairlift and says of those years: “The colour of the mountains in the morning when the sun rises, the smell...It’s like, Oh, I’m home. Those are things I don’t forget from living up there.”

With the opening of Blackcomb Mountain in December 1980, the Mountain caretaker roster grew. The new ski operation featured a cafeteria and restaurant (Christine’s), an upgrade from the grab-and-go bag lunches previously available on Whistler. Part of the Blackcomb caretaker duties included baking fresh pastries every morning (a welcoming smell for early morning skiers) as well as heating up the soup and chili for the lunch crew.

“I made the muffins and donuts every morning,” says Sue Clark, who worked and lived alongside Drew Lattin as the original Rendezvous caretakers. “Drew had been roommates with Rocky and Rabbit so we knew about the job and lifestyle. We were hired by Alta Lake Foods, who were contracted to improve mountain-top dining. It always made me laugh that I was too young to be a liftie but they were okay with me helping look after this brand new lodge on the top of a mountain.”

Sue stayed on for the 81/82 season, working with Dave Roberts (DR) who she described as the smoothest, most beautiful skier she’s ever seen. “That was an epic winter, and I learned to ski powder following DR, Ragu and Johnny O around the mountain, skiing trees where the Jersey Cream and Crystal chairs are now and hiking up to access Blackcomb Bowl, Horstman Glacier and beyond.”

The Rendezvous expanded in the summer of 1987, and the caretaker role shifted away from food prep and more into cleaning and maintenance. Phil and Rose Lavoie were up to the task that winter and recall some of the more luxurious aspects of their morning work routine. “We’d begin at 5 a.m.,” Phil says. “I would get up and do the weather report. And then when the sun was shining, I would crank a little Vivaldi and serve cappuccino to my wife. When the patrol gave us the go-ahead on a good day, we would get a run in before the public came up. Around 4 p.m. I fantasized about being the fastest vacuumer in the world. I would just be in shorts, no shirt, and try to get it done in two hours.”

Blackcomb caretakers were on site seven days a week from October through May. “It’s still, as far as we’re concerned, probably one of the best pages of our life,” Rose says. “We were very happy to be up there, waving to the white light snake [of traffic leaving town] on Sunday night as they all went back to the city.”

Valley locals often asked about their mental health (Stanley Kubrick’s stir-crazy ski lodge horror film The Shining was released the same year Phil and Rose took the job), but boredom was never a factor and caretakers were well-rested after working and skiing all day every day. “Our socializing happened during the day, skiing,”

Rose says. “No TV, just skiing. That was our life. We saw incredible sunrises and sunsets and the silence of no one around was very, very special. We were pretty good employees, 97 per cent of the time…We did have a few tray races.”

They also had a drum set, a unicycle and a hacky sack. “A lot of people would say, ‘When are you going to get a real life?’” Rose recalls. “They couldn’t imagine, but that was the best life ever. It wasn’t as busy back then, and there would be powder all day.”

Which isn’t to say there weren’t hardships. Even four decades later, the Lavoies remember dealing with colds, flus and even the odd broken bone all on their own. At times they’d have to barricade the lodge doors with chairs and tables to combat extreme winds overnight. But it feels like they’d all do it again in a heartbeat.

“I kind of miss the freedom,” Sue reminisces. “Anything went. If it sounded fun, it was a go. The demographic of Whistler was starting to change by 1980, but there were still plenty of hippies and ski bums just trying to get away from the rat race. Everyone was sure there were other ways to live other than the nine to five and play on weekends.” www.realestatepemberton.com

The mountain caretaker positions have long been phased out, but the sentiments remain: Mountain people don’t hesitate to trade a living for a lifestyle, and the unconventional path always has its rewards.

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