What does Whistler owe the world (aside from a good time)?

I NEVER THOUGHT you could experience culture shock in your own country until I moved to Whistler back in 2012.

There I was, fresh off a reporting stint in Colombia, overstuffed suitcase in hand, marvelling at the majestic, snow-capped mountains that dominated my sightline, wondering what this new life at a new job in a new town was going to look like.

Rather quickly, though, the novelty began to wear off. (Well, not the novelty of the mountains—those never get old, even for

BY BRANDON

a Great Indoorsman such as myself.) After a whirlwind six months in Medellin, the overly sanitized, corporatized winter wonderland of Whistler proved to be quite the adjustment. Now, I don’t want to be that guy who prattles on about this or that gritty, off-the-beaten-path destination and how it fundamentally changed me as a person, but there’s no denying the significant cultural differences between a place like Medellin and a place like Whistler.

Looking back, what struck me the most was just how profoundly obsessed the locals here are with the ski lifestyle. Of course, it doesn’t take the detective skills of Benoit Blanc to suss this out. I was aware of Whistler status as a skier’s mecca, primarily from the 2010 Olympics, but I didn’t realize just how deep the rabbit hole went. It seemed every second person I met had not only dedicated their life to chasing powder but had made it the defining characteristic of their entire personality.

Over time, as I became enmeshed in the community, I disovered there are plenty of talented, intelligent, and curious Whistlerites with steadfast morals, who care about far more than just hitting the slopes. But in the last few months, I’ve found myself wrestling again with the insulating effect of the so-called Whistler bubble.

That’s because, three months ago, I used up my remaining vacation time to join Keith Reynolds, the founder and head of Whistler’s Playground Builders, on a trip to Occupied Palestine, where the charity has built close met there, but would Whistler? Surely, it’s my job as a writer to make the reader care, but I worried all the time and energy and emotion I had invested in this trip and the telling of it would largely fall on deaf ears. Perhaps that’s a cynical view, but I’ll admit: it was hard coming back to Whistler, after everything I had seen and heard and felt, to find the same chorus of complaints about pay parking or Vail’s customer service or highway traffic. We are a pretty lucky bunch, not just because we get to work and play in such an awe-inspiring place, but because we have the luxury of tuning out the rest of the world. How many times have first and foremost, I think we have the capacity to be living examples of the type of world we want to see. That’s one of the benefits of welcoming millions of visitors here from virtually every corner of the map. And as we all know, even for the tunnel vision we sometimes suffer from, Whistlerites are a deeply caring bunch, and the spirit of philanthropy and volunteerism here is something to marvel at, especially for such a transient community.

But I think our debt to the wider world is a more personal one, one that asks us to use the inherent privileges we all possess—freedom of speech, freedom of mobility, freedom of to 50 playgrounds for underserved youth and their communities.

I’ll spare you the details from our trip, which I can only describe as transformative, as I’m still hopeful to write about my experience for a future feature in Pique. But it was for that reason that I had a certain sense of déjà vu, tracing back to my move to Whistler more than a decade ago. I knew how much I cared about Palestine and the warm and generous people I you or a local you know returned from a trip abroad only to marvel at the fact that life exists outside the resort. Hell, I still get that feeling when I head down to Vancouver after extended periods in the bubble. But the truth is Palestinians and Yemenis and Sudanese and Ukrainians and Syrians—the list goes on— don’t have the option of tuning out.

So, what does Whistler owe the world, aside from well-groomed runs and a good time? Well, religious expression, freedom to love who you want to love—for the benefit of those who don’t, even and especially if those causes don’t neatly align with the distinct lifestyle we enjoy here in Whistler.

And hey, if you do want to learn more about Palestine and our experience there, Keith and I will be doing a talk at the Whistler Public Library on March 22. It might just burst your bubble. ■

Some advice for the underhoused trying to live the Whistler dream: Stick with it

Having just read the cover story from last month’s Pique (“Wake-Up Call,” Jan. 19), I wanted to write in solidarity for the many people dealing with housing insecurity in Whistler.

I grew up in Whistler. Babies aren’t delivered in the town, but I was at home before I was 24 hours old. I knew nothing else until I left for university.

My grad class is talking about getting together for a 20-year reunion. As I think through the list of 50 people I graduated from Whistler Secondary School with in 2003, there are only a handful who have figured out a way to stay in Whistler. Some live in other communities out of choice, but lots of us don’t live in Whistler because we aren’t able to properly afford it.

It really is hard to make a go of it in Whistler. Most of the families I grew up with, including my own, were average earners and a lot of us dealt with housing insecurity. As a newcomer who is struggling, it can feel like everyone around you is wealthy and has it made. But building a life in Whistler is a struggle for most people. Long-time locals are certainly not immune from having to take on precarious housing arrangements. And many of the most successful people I know who live in Whistler, lived a different life in a place they didn’t want to be, working around the clock so that they, too, could afford Whistler one day.

It feels like it doesn’t necessarily have to be this way. While Whistler has always been relatively expensive, what we’re looking at now versus 10 years ago is next level. I don’t know if anyone really understands the key moments and decision-points that got us here, or if it was even remotely avoidable.

What I can say is this: making a life in Whistler is the ultimate dream, for me included. The town is magic and it’s the only place my soul truly feels at home. These days, I live in Squamish and do a lot of driving. (Not complaining, Squamish is great.)

People find a way to make it happen. My advice, if you want to stay over the long-term: keep your eye on the prize. Take stock of the good jobs available and get trained up. Get on the Whistler Housing Authority list as soon as you can. While you’re renting, be respectful of your landlord’s property. Tenants who are hard on properties or are disrespectful are ultimately contributing to a reduction of our housing stock. Also, it’s a small town at the end of the day…

If it’s your dream, I hope you’ll find a way. The town certainly needs and appreciates you, whether you feel that or not.

Lindsay McIvor // Squamish

Don’t pave over Rainbow Park’s ‘legendary vibe’

The RMOW has announced new “upgrades” to Rainbow Park, and while I welcome those that will improve amenities and access, others will unfortunately pave sections of the grassy waterfront, all the while closing the park for an entire spring, summer, and fall. [Editor’s Note: While the exact timeline is yet to be determined, the RMOW said the park closure will likely span this spring to the fall, or the fall until spring 2024.)

In particular, the “upgrades” include relocating and widening the Valley Trail so that it obstructs the lake itself:

“The path will move east around the volleyball courts and extend alongside the beach, functioning as a waterfront promenade, connecting in a loop to the new food truck plaza near the park’s main entrance.”

Find more info in the Jan. 26 Pique article, “Whistler’s Rainbow Park to close for construction later this year.”

Taking into consideration the longstanding use of Rainbow Park for families, sunbathers, and swimmers, it would seem to be a fundamental change to the park’s design and heritage to put in a paved “promenade” that hinders access to, and obstructs views of, the lake. It is also unclear why park-goers would desire a “paved loop” through the middle of the park’s greenspace and waterfront—a major redesign that would attract hectic, and not peaceful, energy and behaviours. I oppose the current design because it creates a paved, “widened” loop through the park that fundamentally alters the nature of the park, turning the peaceful waterfront into a paved transportation corridor. a similar proposed redesign at Kits Beach was successfully opposed by the local community on similar grounds. We ask then why the RMOW would want to so drastically alter the park’s legendary vibe, paving over its grassy areas while compromising waterfront safety, all for the sake of a “promenade”?

Further, if this major redesign goes through, the majestic views of the mountains from your sunbathing towel will now be blocked by a “promenade” of human torsos and cyclists. The widened Valley Trail will also run through the peaceful grove of small trees that many use

While I understand the need to improve access to the lake (and new pier), I believe this could be done with a horseshoe design that would address access without turning Rainbow Park waterfront into a “promenade” for human traffic. Putting in a “paved oval” when we already have issues with speed issues on the Valley Trail with e-bikes, cyclists, and other e-vehicles will only encourage high-velocity traffic directly in front of the waterfront, where young children are playing and where swimmers are entering/exiting the lake.

In short, this is also a safety concern, and for shade and sunbathing towels. This is one of the more special places at any park in Whistler, especially at sunset, which is why I call upon the RMOW not to simply “pave it over.” We need to rethink this.

This redesign also makes the same mistakes Vancouver was about to make in the 1960s, when it considered putting an elevated highway and interchange through the downtown waterfront. This sparked massive public protest, drawing from the inspiration of Jane Jacobs’ opposition to the Spadina Expressway in Toronto, that thankfully saved