Whistle while you work

So. Whistler was big. And not just yeah, that's a big mountain, but more along the lines of big like its taking me 20 minutes to ski one run. Furthermore, its big because its taking me 20 minutes to ski one ski run in one bowl on one hill.

I think its fair to say that I challenged myself past the point of what I had been capable of doing on skis. I'd never skied powder before. not groomed powder, the light fluffy stuff that has been completely untouched before I ran my skis through it. After the first day there Coops and I would just look at each other with grins, silently reminiscing about the enormity of runs, the temptation to ski one perfect run over and over, but knowing there were way too many new runs to try, and many more that we would not even get to within a week of solid skiing.

Day one. Whistler Mountain. It was awesome, bar the snow that just kept falling. At one point we cruised around the back of Whistler Peak, hoping for that fall flat on your ass view, only to find the run completely immersed in fog and snow. I had no idea where I was going. Coops had no idea where he was going. The trail markers would disappear from the side of the trail, and while heading down was generally the idea, barrelling over an unexpected edge was not preferable. Eventually the top of Upper Peak to Creek cleared and I could unclench pretty much everything and enjoy the ride.

Day two was almost the highlight of the week. We headed to Blackcomb to compare mountains. For the record, Blackcomb is my favoured of the two. High risk, when conquered creates high thrills. Thus was my Blackcomb Glacier experience. Its a ridiculously huge bowl at the back of Blackcomb peak. You only get experienced skiers there because there are few blue runs, and its back country black runs predominantly, with chances for avalanche. You also have to walk over a pass (please note previous comment about avalanche) to get there. I got to the top and thought this was the day I would meet my maker. I was shaking as I took off into the powder, and I think it was fear that brought my first fall. I then realised that powder was the preferable place to fall, both for softness and effect. There is nothing better than a high speed stack that creates an enormous plume of snow which envelope you completely, somewhat reminiscent of having thrown a small grenade at your feet. Our first run out of Blackcomb Glacier took us (well, me) an hour. Brilliant.

We both managed a few good stacks. Obviously I have the quantity, but Coops had the quality, even managing to bust the screen on his camera in Powder (quite impressive given earlier description).

Day three saw more Blackcomb action. We had loved the runs, and fewer 'bunnies' on the slopes. Whistler accommodated the family market, so we enjoyed the open, uncrowded slopes. Day four was back to Whistler, and in a surprising move, we purchased tickets for a fifth day when Sam came up from Vancouver to join in the fum. Subsequently our 5th and last day in skiing in Whistler was back on Blackcomb, again challenging the elements in the glacier bowl (slightly quicker this time, fear beaten down with a pretty pink ski) and we just couldn't get enough.

It was just a fantastic way to complete a year neat in Canada. Coops and I said a tearful goodbye to some great friends when we left Vancouver and flew to New Zealand on 27th March. We spent a tired, but essential 24 hours with some more friends who I'd missed dearly in Auckland before getting home on the 29th.

Nearly two months on, and life is almost like it was. But different. A new job to learn, and still some old friends to drop in on. It goes without saying that it seems like a distant memory, and while I'm still finding it cold here, I can't readily forget (and be thankful that I'm not still in) the big freeze of Canada.

I have to admit, I'm at a bit of a loss as to what to do about the blog. While I work it out, I'd like to say thanks to those of you still reading. Thanks for the comments along the way, they were always appreciated. Ciao.