January 29, 2004
WHISTLERING DIXIE
I won't spend much time recapping my vacation, because 1) it's bad form, and 2) it's boring to everyone else.
I will say that particular corner of the earth is utterly unparalleled in beauty and style. From Vancouver to the old Britannia Mines to Whistler Mountain I've never seen the like. Mountains rising in haste from blue-black fjords, mighty firs sagged but unbroken from the weight of constant snowfall, waterfalls and streams of remarkable clarity, ungodly scenic marina towns like Horseshoe Bay. It's enough to make a man open a brewery.
As for Whistler and Blackcomb, I can see why the Winter Olympics will be here in six years. The Coast Ranges aren't the highest mountains around, but hark:
It's all about the vertical rise. What can you ski? Blackcomb has a vertical rise of 5,280 feet, compared to Vail's 3,450, Tahoe's 3,500, Breckinridge's 3,398.
Over 200 trails on the two mountains, and in excess of 7,000 acres of slopes. The only downside was the 50/50 mix of snowboarders. The stories are true. Those little bastards are rude shits, and have no respect for the rest of the crowd. I hope they all get genital herpes.
Development is extremely limited, and almost complete. Whistler Village is replete with all the amenities one could desire, but it's never crowded. It hasn't been Aspenized. When you look at the mountains, you see mountains, not condos. Lessons have been learned.
I hate to say it, but it was nice having virtually no Americans around. Most of the tourists there are Australian, British, Chinese. The only person I saw I could identify as an American was, alas, a fucked-up Gator fan. Go figure. At least the locals treated him with the amiable respect one accords a leper. I could never be so kind.
L'apres-ski:
I'm no young buck, although I certainly wished I was. Therefore the apres consisted of the four of us relaxing in Shell Girl's hot tub, with a triple Crown Royal, a fine Cuban cigar, a bit of the bud. Not a bad substitute for chasing taut-breasted sheilas, if I may Bobbit the situation.
And that's all I'm going to say. I've bored you enough. I may post a pic or two later, but to be honest I didn't take too many for the simple reason we were enshrouded in snow mist the whole time. If you want an idea of the view, stare intently at a sheet of Georgia-Pacific's finest copier quality 8 x 11.
And so, who wants to start planning next year's Blackcomb Blogger Bash???