The song, “Walking in a Winter Wonderland” was surely inspired by a visit to Whistler, Canada.
This place could not be more perfect for me– I love the mountains and truly felt like I may have landed in heaven. The feeling quickly went away after going left over a mogul with my left ski, and straight over the same mogul with my right ski. I don’t think one gets knocked in the head with a large wooden board in heaven.
I landed in Whistler via free resort nights from SPG (thanks, Starwood!). Steve and I originally attempted to book a ski trip to Salt Lake City, but all the resorts were sold out, as was the case with most of Colorado. I called SPG and asked them which ski resorts were available. Their reply: Whistler, Canada.
Canada, eh? Then Canada I shall go!
Sreetham, Steve and I met up Wednesday evening in Whistler, stoked for our 3 day ski holiday (or Steve’s 3 day “work remotely” session). Sreetham arrived before any of us, but was quickly put in his place by the resort staff, who unkindly informed him “You are not an ambassador…is Mr. Kaplan coming with you? It’s very important Mr. Kaplan be here to receive his gifts”. Despite my pink goggles, this would not be the last time I was referred to as “Mr. Kaplan” on this trip. Rude.
Thursday morning, we wake up and make the far far journey downstairs to get our ski gear. 1.5 hours later (I still don’t know how it took us so long), we find our way to the gondola conveniently located outside the rental shop, and off we go to begin the adventure! A few things to note about our polygamous ski trio:
- Steve hates green trails.
- Sreetham kind of loves green trails.
- Steve hates catwalks.
- Blackcomb and Whistler Mountains love catwalks.
- Steve and I love to fall down black diamonds.
- Sreetham prefers yellow diamonds…in the sky. Sreetham also prefers the pizza method of skiing, which can be a bit tricky over moguls and black diamonds.
With this in mind, we pick a nice looking blue run and head on down! A few minutes later, I have no idea where anyone is. I begin teaching myself how to ski backwards, which essentially consists of one second of backward navigation, following by five seconds of terror, as I am blindly sliding down a mountain. Then I fall and repeat. I do this while Sreetham pizzas down the mountain and Kennington horizontally slides down. We’re practically experts…this will be proven the next day…
We continue our backward falling/pizza-ing/horizontal slides for a few more hours and before we know it, the lifts are closed! The one negative to Whistler/Blackcomb mountains are the lift closing times- 2-3pm…whaaatt?! So early. Punks.
We hit the hot tub to soak our sore muscles, grab dinner at a posh Italian restaurant where we have gotten wind of their Thursday $10 pasta plate, and promptly pass out by midnight.
The next day, we confidently breeze past an “Experts only” sign posted before a terrain park entrance, and commence the many attempts to launch ourselves a foot in the air, off a jump! It’s fair to say I jumped the highest, at a whopping 1-2 inches, while Sreetham almost got off the ground, and Steve flapped his arms really hard.
Steve begins to join a conference call on the ski lift, and then decides to take it inside, at a nearby lodge. Such a responsible worker, this one!! Sreetham and I explore uncharted territory, where we can barely tell the difference between the white sky and the snow:
We blindly go down a few runs, meet up with Kennington for a bowl of chili, and onto Whistler mountain! 100% of the population of the gondola we took on the way from Blackcomb peak to Whistler peak was gay….could you imagine that! We talked to everyone on the gondola—all GAY.
On the first run on the new mountain, Kennington blazes the trail while I cut to the sides to attempt my one foot jump! Needless to say, I take a few tumbles and Kennington takes the lead. A few minutes later, I see a small jump across a narrow patch of snow over a creek. I brace myself, knowing if I fall, I’m going in the river. I speed up. I speed up a little more. I’m still going rather slow. I get to the bridge, hop over the bump, and make it safely across!! Too bad the same couldn’t be said for Kennington….
Steve is halfway in the creek, and slipping precariously close to the frigid waters as I regain my breath from laughing so hard and pausing to snap a photo, before assisting with the retrieval.
After a day of skiing, we once again soak in the hot tub and spend some quality time on Grinder. Sreetham and I head to dinner, and Steve joins us later, with his computer…so responsible! He eats a bit, gets a call, presses a button, and calls it a productive day! After dinner, Sreetham and I head to a bar, and take shots and PARTY HARD!!! (ie, one beer, followed by bed).
The last day of skiing: I finally got my foot of air (or at least six inches)— I lost both my skiis in the process and landed directly on my arse….but, six inches WOO!!
To one of the BEST and most beautiful trips yet. Hear ye, hear ye, I toast to thee!!!!