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Living in exile

He grew up on the shores of Alta Lake. “That’s what I remember the most about my childhood,” says Whistler-born Davey Barr. “Hanging out by the water all summer long. Life seemed so relaxed; so easy in those days.
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He grew up on the shores of Alta Lake. “That’s what I remember the most about my childhood,” says Whistler-born Davey Barr. “Hanging out by the water all summer long. Life seemed so relaxed; so easy in those days. Everybody on the Westside Road knew each other back then. It was all about dogs and kids and windsurfers…”

But that’s all gone. Now 30 years old, happily engaged and with a young child of his own, Barr no longer lives in the Whistler Valley. A member of what could be legitimately termed the first generation of true Whistler-born locals — children of the dreamers and pioneers and ski bums and hippies who first moved here in the early 1970s — Davey was forced to move down-valley to Squamish two years ago. “There are few of my generation even connected with Whistler anymore,” he says. “Out of my graduating class, for example, I think there are only a couple who actually lives in Whistler today.”

So what does that say about the community? What does that say about Whistler culture and the way we treat the kids who grew up here? “It’s kind of strange,” he says. “I love Squamish. I love owning my own house and being able to ride my bike there all year long. But is it my home? I’m not sure. I still feel so tied to Whistler. I’m tied to the mountains. Tied to my parents. You know — I didn’t leave by choice. I was pushed out. I knew I couldn’t keep renting. I knew I wasn’t getting anywhere. But with the high price of housing in Whistler I had no alternative…”

Packing up and leaving town, however, was a lot harder than he thought it would be. “It was tough,” he says. “Although I knew I had to make the move, it didn’t feel right to me somehow. I’ve accepted it now. But at the time it wasn’t easy to leave all I cared about behind.”

Barr admits he hasn’t allowed himself to think too much about it since he arrived in Squamish. “I’ve kind of buried it,” he says. “It happened so quickly that I never really had a chance to fight back. I mean — I knew 10 years ago that there would be no place for me at Whistler.”

Having grown up in a town in constant flux, Barr believes that it primed him for accepting the inevitable. ”I grew up with change — whether it was watching the local garbage dump become the town centre or seeing Creekside transformed into something foreign and impersonal. So for me, moving to Squamish was just another change in my life.”

But as our conversation picks up, Barr acknowledges just how difficult a change that really was. “This is such a tough subject for me,” he says. “And that’s probably why I don’t dwell on it much. On the one hand, I want to fight for what I had as a kid. I want to fight for the Whistler I once knew.” He sighs deeply. Clearly this is an emotional topic for him. “On the other hand,” he continues, “I have to come to terms with the fact that the Whistler I once knew no longer exists. There’s no ‘there’ there anymore…”

Barr’s Whistler was an idyllic place of family parties and get-togethers, strong social ties and skiing. Always skiing. “We were the guinea pigs for a lot of new on-mountain programs,” he says with a laugh. “I remember Ski Skamps. It was developed when I was 5-6 years old. Whenever we’d get better, the instructors would add a new level for us.”

Currently one of Canada’s top skiercross racers — and a rising power on the world scene — Barr says he’s always been passionate about skiing. “I remember going up the mountain every day I could. Even when it rained. Sometimes I’d be the only kid to show up. I recall one particularly miserable day when Vicky Vogler was called down to come skiing with me. She couldn’t believe I wanted to go out there and actually ski. But for me, it was the most fun thing in the world.”

The adopted son of former Whistler Mountain Ski School director, Don Barr, Davey remembers fondly the winter mornings he’d spend in the old administration offices at Creekside. “I used to go in early with my dad and hang out in the office and bug Dave Murray with a thousand questions,” he says. Decades later, he is still in awe of the former World Cup star and ski racing visionary who died of cancer at way too young an age. “Dave was the greatest,” he says. “He was so friendly and so patient with me. I really looked up to him a lot…”

But Davey saved most of his affection for his adopted father. “I was super lucky to have Don as my ‘dad’,” he explains. “We’ve always had a good relationship. He’s a really cool guy.” The birth son of Vancouverite Chris Blaylock (who also died of cancer when Davey was only nine years old), Barr says his adopted father had a big influence on his life. “My mom split up with Chris when I was only two years old,” he says. “So Don’s been there for me since I can remember. He’s always supported me 100 per cent. I attribute a lot of my ski racing success to him…”

And then he laughs. “And to my mom, Sue, of course. She’s been unbelievably supportive over the years. From helping me battle through high school (one year I missed over 100 days of classes) to making sure I was eating well and staying healthy — she was there for me every step of the way!”

Davey’s ski racing talent was recognized early. And once again, he broke new ground for Whistler-born athletes. “I spent five years on the B.C. Ski Team,” he says. “I think I was probably the first local-born skier to make it.” And though he came very close to being named to the national team, the stars never quite aligned properly for him. “The skiers born in my year and the year ahead of me were very strong,” he explains. “Although I seemed to be always on the cusp of making the team, the focus back then was still on downhill and I was a technical skier. So I don’t think they took me as seriously as some of the speed skiers.”

By 1997, he’d had enough of the politics and the games-playing. “I could feel the burnout,” he says. “Racing for me had stopped being fun. I needed to rediscover the soul of skiing again. All I wanted was to be free to just go out and do it. I wanted to enjoy the mountains again — to reconnect with that feeling I had for skiing when I was a little kid.”

But first, he decided to spend a few years studying at Camosun College in Victoria. “That’s when I realized I couldn’t live without the mountains,” he says smiling. “So I came back and fell in love with skiing all over again.”

Which explains his current involvement in skiercross. “I wouldn’t be doing it if I wasn’t enjoying myself,” he explains. “It’s been a lot of fun so far.”

He acknowledges though, that being a father has changed his outlook some. “I now have a three-month-old daughter to care far and that means that every decision I make is very important. If I’m going to do this skiercross thing I’ve got to give it 100 per cent of my effort. I’ve got to go fast…”

And with skiercross now included in the 2010 Games Barr admits it would be very hard to give up on his dreams now. “It’s almost surreal,” he says. “To compete at the Olympics has always been a goal of mine. So I’ve decided to go for it. For the next couple of years I’m going to focus on being the best darn skiercross racer I can be.” He stops for a moment. Smiles almost sheepishly. “But I still want to make sure I’m balancing that with my life as a parent.”

Unfortunately, his recent appearance at the World Skiercross Championships didn’t go as well for him as he’d have liked. “It just wasn’t my day,” he says. However, his seventh place overall finish (just ahead of former World Cup star Darren Rahlves) on the very competitive 2007 Honda Ski Tour series certainly puts him among the elite in the sport. “I’m not where I want to be yet,” he says. “There’s still a bit of a gap between me and the leaders. But I know I can make that up. It’s just a matter of time…”

Meanwhile, he’s continuing a carpentry apprenticeship under his father, Don, and working hard to make his new down-valley residence feel like home. “There are more and more people moving to Squamish who share my love for mountain culture,” he says. “And that’s really promising. Besides, I have to admit that it is exciting to be living in a real town again.” He stops talking for a moment. Smiles — but there’s more than a hint of sadness there. “When I was young, Whistler was a real town with real people,” he continues. “But now it’s been transformed into something that I don’t even recognize anymore. Maybe my move to Squamish was for the best after all…”