Imagine growing up in Madrid in the late 1970s. You’re in your mid-teens and living the Euro urban lifestyle to the hilt. Remember, this is the capital of Spain: drenched in centuries of history and a very hip, very cosmopolitan place. Skiing is definitely not part of your world. Suddenly your dad — a mining engineer — is transferred to Trail, B.C. to work for Cominco. How do you adapt?
“My mother cried for five years straight,” says the inimitable George (Jorge) Alvarez. A character’s character, George is one of Whistler’s most passionate citizens. Colourful doesn’t even come close to describing this guy. So much goes on around him — both in reality and in fantasy — that one could easily create a weekly comic strip on his life. Artist, hipster, entrepreneur, rebel, enfant terrible , innovator, mountain-lover and loyal friend, he brings a much-needed Latin spiciness to the Whistler story mix. But he’s definitely an acquired taste…
And one of the most irrepressibly funny guys I know. “It was May 7 th , 1978,” says with the Chilean-born 46 year old. “That’s when my family’s world came tumbling down.” He smiles. “Or at least, that’s what we thought then…”
For like so many newcomers to this country, George and his sisters had no idea what awaited them in the New World. “My dad never got around to telling us what living in the West Kootenays would be like,” he tells me. And giggles. “I still remember driving through Spokane and thinking what a quaint little place this is.” The giggles turn into a full-on chortle. “Like most people in Europe our vision of Canada was that it would look like New York but with lots of lakes and mountains around. When we got to Trail, my mum turned to my dad and said ‘Take us to the big city.’ She thought he was joking…”
But he wasn’t. “So there I am,” says George, “sixteen years old, can’t speak a word of English, and enrolled in Grade 12 at the local high school.” He smiles. “I really didn’t fit in all that well. Madrid culture and Castlegar culture were light years apart. I was into neon, tight jeans and short hair — they were still in the hippy era.” Fortunately for George, he met a guy in his homeroom called Felix Belczyk. “He was my first friend in Canada,” says Alvarez of the future ski-racing star. “Through Felix I got to know all these racer guys like Chris Kent and Gary Athans and Rob Boyd and Don Stevens. Ski racing eventually became a religion for me…”
But that still didn’t make George a skier. “Going up a mountain to slide down on snow on two sticks? I just didn’t get it. All I could think about was how much I hated this place.” But it was the persistence of another school friend that finally turned the tide for George. “Pat Post just wouldn’t give up,” he says. “He was sure he would eventually convince me what a wonderful outdoor playground this place was.”
As it turns out, George would soon discover just how right his friend was. “Every year,” recounts Alvarez, “Cominco would reserve the hill at Red Mountain for its employees. So during our first year there, my dad suddenly decides to take his family skiing. We were all against it of course. But he was determined.” He stops speaking. Grabs me by the arm. His eyes are sparkling. It’s almost like he’s reliving the moment as we speak. “I went up the T-bar at Red, Michel, and I saw God. I kid you not. I had an epiphany.”
So that was that. George went back to his friend Pat Post and said: “Teach me to ski!”
“It was marvellous, fabulous, amazing, incredible, enthralling,” George stops to take a breath. “I don’t know how to describe it. My second time on snow, Pat took me ski touring up the Salmo-Creston pass. You know, skins and touring bindings and packs and everything.” He laughs. “And it was a disaster. I don’t know how I made it down in one piece that day. But I still loved it!”
Suddenly life in the Kootenays made way more sense for the young Madrileño. “Skiing kind of took over my life after that,” he says. “I’d attend every class until Red Mountain opened. After that school was pretty much over for me...”
Meanwhile, he’d also managed to connect with the two Belzcyk sisters — Sandy and Andrea. Both outstanding athletes in their own right, they too took the young newby under their wings. “So there I was these two mountain Amazons,” says George, only half in jest. “In no time, we were skiing everything!”
After a few years of mountain fun — and sporadic schoolwork at Selkirk College — George’s father decided that his son should move to Vancouver and get serious about his studies. “By this point, Sandy and I are going out together,” he remembers. “She’s studying at UBC and I’m at Langara. And we hate it! We keep looking at the mountains and thinking ‘that’s where we should be…’”
It’s during a stint as tree planters that the couple first heard of this hip, young mountain town called Whistler. “So we checked it out in the fall of 1984,” he says. “Actually drove up Blackcomb to Rendezvous Lodge and then from there we hiked up the southwest ridge and dropped into Horstman Glacier.” He sighs. “I remember — it was just before Halloween and I looked over at Sandy and thought ‘Wow! Only October and we’re skiing. And I could see she was thinking the same thing.” There was only one thing to do. “We went back to Vancouver, packed up our things and turned around and ploughed our way back to Whistler in a huge snowstorm.” He grins, if just a little sheepishly. “My dad didn’t find out I quit school till the end of the ski season…”
Still, Alvarez had found his home. The city kid from Madrid had become a Coast Mountain boy with the soul of a born Snoweater. And though he and Sandy eventually split up — and his relationships since then are too numerous to count — his first love remains the mountain town that stole his heart back in ’84. “It’s been nearly a quarter century,” he says with pride. “I’m married to Whistler.” His accomplishments, too, are legion. He claims to have sold the first snowboard ‘commercially’ at Whistler. “It was in my old shop, Santini’s,” he says. “Probably the winter of ’87-’88. The Kemper rep wanted me to try to move some boards through the shop and Scotty Thompson said ‘you gotta sell these things.’ So I did…”
He also claims to have served Primer Minister Pierre Trudeau at Chez Joel (and he had the picture to prove it). To those of us who know George well, though, that image boggles the mind…
And then of course, there was his famous stint as impresario and manager of Maxx Fish. Launched back in 1997, it quickly became the IT spot for the young and the outwardly mobile. “Hard to believe it’s been over 10 years,” he says of that adventure. “But you know, for a while there that was the place to hang. Everybody went there.”
What’s most telling about George, however, is
what he calls his three magic Whistler moments. “The first was watching my
friend
Rob Boyd win the World Cup
downhill,” he says. “That was amazing. The second was when I skied the Khyber
forest for the first time with Boyd and Ricky Lewon and Ace McKay Smith. And
the third was when I skied the Khyber the first time on fat skis — that
blew my mind!”
Like many local
residents, however, Alvarez admits he worries more about Whistler’s future now
than he ever has in the past.
One of the principals at
Toad Hall, a graphic arts studio based in Function Junction — “we decided
to name our business after the Soo Valley icon because we wanted to keep the
tradition of Whistler edginess alive,” he says — Alvarez is not at all
happy with the way the municipality is being run these days. “Whistler has been
hijacked,” he says. “We’ve forgotten what fun is all about.” He sighs. “In
fact, few of us here share a common vision anymore…” And snorts in frustration.
“We’ve forgotten what Whistler stands for. We talk about being green and
sustainable and we pat ourselves on the back for writing fancy documents. But
we keep making all these ridiculous decisions that make no sense...”
Which brings up another
disturbing point, he says. “I thought democracy was about the voice of the
people. But it seems to me these days that our council members are being
coached to all vote the same way…” Another sigh. “All the big decisions are now
being made behind closed doors. Sure, they do surveys and organize meetings.”
Alas, it’s all theatre, he says. “They’re just going through the motions to
make it look good.”
But George is a realist
too. “If you own a small business in this town,” he says, “it’s very dangerous
to be outspoken.” He pauses. Shakes his head. Shrugs. “Sad to say,” he adds,
“but around here if you criticize some of the big guys, you’re pretty much done…”
Still, no matter how incensed he gets about municipal issues, George is a shameless romantic. “I love the rain that gives us our powder snow in winter and our magical green forests and the amazing community of people who live here. I love the loonie races where 350 people come out to compete on locally-built trails and I love skiing Peak-to-Creek and backcountry touring and going up the Callaghan and having the longest ski season in North America.” He smiles. “That’s what makes us famous. Not the Starbucks or the McDonald’s or any of that other urban crap. It’s all about the beauty of the local mountains, man. That’s what makes Whistler special and unique…”
