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Living the dream

By Michel Beaudry She comes by her sense of adventure honestly. “My mother was a keen skier,” says Lisa Richardson, “but my dad wasn’t. When they eventually broke up, mum decided that skiing would become our family holiday thing.

By Michel Beaudry

She comes by her sense of adventure honestly. “My mother was a keen skier,” says Lisa Richardson, “but my dad wasn’t. When they eventually broke up, mum decided that skiing would become our family holiday thing.” No big deal, right? When you live in Vancouver or Seattle or even Denver, skiing as a family sport makes a great deal of sense. But when you live in semi-tropical Brisbane, Australia — a 20-hour drive from the nearest ski hill — the concept takes on a much more adventurous hue.

“She is an amazing lady,” adds Lisa with a laugh. “One year she had a horrific crash on the hill and suffered multiple fractures. But that didn’t stop her from driving us home at the end of our holiday…”

Inspired by their mother’s heroics, Lisa and her brother Tony pursued their love affair with skiing. “I was at the half-way point of a combined degree in arts and law in Brisbane,” recounts Lisa, “when my mother suggested that Tony enrol in the Dempsey ski teaching program at Whistler. As my brother’s lifelong skiing companion, I decided he needed a buddy for the trip.”

Tony and Lisa arrived at Whistler in the fall of 1994. “The snow was fantastic that year,” remembers Lisa. “Unfortunately, my brother tore all the ligaments in his ankle the first week, so he was confined to the couch for a while.” Not Lisa. She passed the Dempsey program with flying colours and took to ski teaching with alacrity. “I went back to university in Australia and taught skiing there that summer. It was incredible!”

Meanwhile, Tony had opted to stay at Whistler. So when the next fall came around, Lisa decided to rejoin her brother and teach for a few months before her law classes resumed in January. “It was weird,” she says of her second trip. “My friends had all moved on. It was a really different experience. I kept asking myself: ‘What am I doing here? What am I doing with my life?’”

And then there was this Canadian friend who said: ”If you want to stay in Canada, I’ll marry you.” Or the taxi driver who told her: “You should find a Canadian man to marry.”

She snorts in disgust. “That was truly bizarre,” she says. “I had a lot of plans for back home. I certainly had no intention of staying in Whistler full-time.”

On her last day at Whistler, Lisa decided to go to the GLC to celebrate her departure. “My supervisor at the ski school — Dave Hobson — decided to join me for a few drinks,” she says. And then she giggles. Although the two had worked closely together during the previous two months, they really didn’t know each other. “Suddenly we discovered all these awesome connections,” she says. “We got blindingly drunk together. And two weeks later we got married!”

She knows how strange the story sounds. After all, Lisa was barely 20 and Dave was only 25. But she makes no apologies for the couple’s precipitous decision. “I can’t explain it. It doesn’t make sense at all. I just knew this person was the one…”

She smiles. “We got married in a condo on Nita Lake,” she says. “And Florence Petersen married us. That was pretty nice too.”

For the next six years, Lisa and Dave lived a gypsy existence. From Whistler, the couple moved east to work on the Hobson family farm in Southern Ontario — and then west again all the way to Brisbane where Lisa finished her law degree and Dave got a job teaching at an adventure school. “We’d come back to Whistler every year for two months,” she says. “And that too was a bit strange.” Another burst of laughter. “We lived in all sorts of creative places during our annual forays back — from a laundry room in a friend’s house to an Airstream trailer squatting in Function Junction.”

In the spring of 2001, the couple decided it was time to return to Canada — at least for a season or two. But before settling down, they had one last big adventure in mind. “Ah yes — our North American road-trip odyssey.” She grins at the memory. “We bought a1987 two-door Toyota Tercel, packed it full of our belongings, and spent the next six months following the sun and looking for good climbing venues.”

It was quite a journey — in every sense. “Just before our departure, I shaved my head. My hair was the one physical feature that everyone always commented on. In many ways, it defined who I was. So I figured I’d find out what life would be like without it…”

She says she looked ridiculous without any hair. “You couldn’t hide it. You couldn’t soften the blow. This was the naked me. And it was highly liberating. And a bit scary too. But it allowed me to really ask: ‘What do I want to become?’” But she admits she could have never done it without Dave. “He accepted me totally as I was…”

And then September 11 th happened. “We were in Ontario, in a little lakeside cabin, watching it all go down on TV and wondering what the heck was happening. It really made us stop and think about our future. Where did we want to live? And the answer was clear to both of us: Whistler!”

“I wasn’t as liberated in Australia,” she explains. “There were a lot of people there who had really high expectations for me. In Australia I would whisper ‘I really want to become a writer.’ And my mum would say: ‘Yeah. Yeah. That’s all nice and good. Just concentrate on becoming a good lawyer and that will be just fine.’ But in Canada I can yell it out: ‘I want to be a writer!’ And nobody tells me I can’t…”

Lisa wrote her first story — an examination of Whistler’s soul (or lack of it) — for Pique Newsmagazine in 2002. “I was terrified,” she admits. “I was shaking when I went to work that morning. It was like walking down the main street totally naked…”

But nobody cared. “I remember one of the instructors commenting on it. ‘Hey — I see you got a story in the Pique. It’s way too long for me to read. But I’m sure it’s good.’ And that was fine by me. I was free to write about whatever I wanted.”

Whistler, she says, is the perfect place for re-inventing yourself. “Most people come here to follow their passions. They are here to deconstruct the crap and artifice in their lives. To many outsiders, it seems that we are a bit out-of-touch with reality here. But there is something quite profound about living at Whistler. If you take the time to sit down and listen to local residents, really listen, it doesn’t take very long to realize just how diverse — and layered — this community really is!”

She takes a quick breath. “For me, at 31, I’m here because I want to be. I don’t have kids. I have great relationships. I have options. And I realize just how privileged I am. People like me are choosing to live in this paradise (over another) simply because we can…”

But that doesn’t mean getting lazy or complacent about life. “This place was started by innovators,” she says. “People who weren’t afraid to challenge the status quo. And that’s what really excites me about Whistler.”

That’s also what excites her about her newest adventure: being named communications manager for the World Ski and Snowboard Festival. “It’s a really powerful event,” she explains. “It has the kind of innovative energy that really stimulates people’s imaginations.” She pauses for just a beat. “And I’m convinced that residents and visitors really want that here!”

For Lisa, Whistler’s future success hinges on its ability to truly embrace its identity as a 21 st century mountain town. “We’re in danger of falling prey to localism here,” she says. “Whistler is no longer limited by its physical boundaries. That’s why Whistlerites have to extend their imaginations to encompass not only the entire Sea to Sky corridor, but the whole community of folks who are really passionate about this place.”

She smiles, but with just a hint of sadness. “I understand the desire by some to define the community in a narrow way. But it’s wrong! You have to be expansionist in your thinking. You have to include everyone — locals, weekenders, visitors, business people — who has committed their time and emotion to this place.”

And if you do that correctly, she concludes, everyone wins. Or as Lisa puts it: “If you broaden your concept of community properly — if you champion all the great stories and anecdotes about this place — then you can get rid of your marketing department all together!”