Developing Mountain Town Skills

I know better than to call myself a local. In order to be a true local in a ski resort town, I have determined that you need either a road or ski run named in your honour. I’m working on that.

But as I approach my 1.5 year Whistlerversary, I can’t help but reflect on how far I’ve come in 18 short months (minus three travel months—but whatever). I present you with my newfound skills as a permanent-ski-town-resident-trainee.

I can identify an Australian/New Zealand/British/Irish/Scottish/South African/New Brunswick accent with 80% accuracy, blindfolded.

This is a great improvement over my pre-Whistler residency accuracy rate of 4%.

I can shave a beard with my mind.

A ski resort town is the best place for anyone who used to be a 13 year old girl who loooooved makeovers (ME!). In the winter, boys here grow lots of hair and lots of beards. They wear goggles, helmets, face masks and baggy clothes. Then summer emerges; hair gets cut, beards get shaved, and board shorts and t shirts prevail. You appreciate the “after” so much more after having witnessed the “before” for several months.

Over time, I have developed the advanced ability to be able picture the scraggly mountain man before me WITHOUT beard and long hair. It involves a complex algorithm of jaw shape, butt chin/no butt chin odds and potential for dimples. It took awhile to perfect this skill, but I think I’ve nailed it.

I can provide directions to most places in town.

My first job here was a restaurant hostess, but people often mistook my hostess stand as an information booth. You wouldn’t believe the number of times I (unintentionally) gave wrong directions to Sachi Sushi.

I am proud to say that I now know where most restaurants, shops and hotels are in my fine town. I can spot a lost tourist struggling with a map from miles away and confidently point them towards any fine sushi establishment of their liking. I can absolutely see myself donning the red “Village Host Volunteer” vest in approximately 45 years.

I fear not bears.

Bears! Bears are sooo cool and one of my favourite things about my ski resort town is how bear-spotting is a common occurance. Not only can I distinguish between a grizzly bear and a black bear (bump on back! claws!), but I can walk you through the appropriate bear-encounter protocol, thanks to the handy “Bear Smart” posters at the bus stops here, which I have read roughly 83,201 times.

I had my first in-person/out-of-car bear run-in last week and I handled it with much elegance and grace.

I know the snow forecast better than the weather forecast.

What’s the temperature meant to be in the valley next week? Don’t know, don’t care, but I CAN tell you the predicted snowfall up on the mountain for the next six days, along with the forecast highs, lows and wind details.

In fact, I can take any single snowflake and tell its name, age and favourite colour just by looking at it. I am one with the snow.

Yes, I’ve learned a thing or two over the last little while and know I have much to learn. I have yet to master the art of throwing a frisgolf disc the proper way, I’ve never hiked the Black Tusk and I still don’t know how to ski. Here’s to the next 1.5 years.