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Take a hike - exploring the heights in sunny fall

"Weather happens - whether humans like it or not.' Old mountain dictum "You won't believe where I'm standing." The tone in his voice said it all. Excitement. Anticipation. It was the joyful exuberance of a ten-year old on a new adventure.
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"Weather happens - whether humans like it or not.'

Old mountain dictum

"You won't believe where I'm standing." The tone in his voice said it all. Excitement. Anticipation. It was the joyful exuberance of a ten-year old on a new adventure. And I could virtually feel his energy flowing across the cell network. Palpable; like talking to a glutton at a smorgasbord. So I decided to play the game.

"Okay. I give. Where are you standing?"

"You won't believe it," he repeated. "As we speak, I'm walking out to the tarmac at the Whistler Heliport." He couldn't suppress the chuckle of happiness that came dancing out of his mouth.

I didn't blame him. In fact, I joined in the laughter - with just a small sigh of envy. For I already knew what he was going to say. "You bad-ass," I sputtered. "You're going out for the whole weekend, aren't you?"

Yep," he said - if only with a hint of smugness. "I've got Buck here and Murray and Stuart... And a whole range of test gear of course... and we're takin' off for the next three nights." A long pause. "We've found this great spot just up from the Stein - a little necklace of alpine lakes and great climbs. And look at the weather!" Another spray of happy laughter. "Clear 'till next week! And with a full moon too. It's going to be mah-va-lous..."

Indeed. And I couldn't help but wish I were along for the heli-ride. After all, September in the alpine in the Coast Mountains is about as good as it gets for hikers and climbers and walkers and runners. Especially this year when the snow took so long to depart from the high country. And the bugs - let's not even go there. I haven't seen this bad a summer in decades.

But now - yeah baby. The insects are slowly dying off (love those cold nights!). The white stuff is down to pockets and north-facing aspects. And the air is oh-so-dang clear! There's no other time of the year when the alpine is so friendly to human interlopers.

Besides, we might as well enjoy ourselves now. Who knows what the weather gods have in store for us later.

I mean, I've seen this kind of weather before. And it scares me. Longtime Whistlerites know what I'm talking about. They've seen it too: miserable early summer - rain and wind and cold - and then suddenly, like a belly dancer shimmying out from under her veil, comes this beautiful sunny patch of good times. Highly-welcomed of course. At least at first. But look out - it can last for weeks. Months even.

I can remember water-skiing in Howe Sound at Thanksgiving - without a wetsuit. And not getting cold! Seriously. I'm not kidding. It can happen. A snow drought I mean. Dry weather. No precip. No powder. And there's absolutely nothing we can do about it.

Which brings me back to mountain hiking and sunny Septembers -- something we can do something about at Whistler.

In my humble opinion, it's still one of our most under-rated features. We might give the high country lip-service from time-to-time. Even go up the hill with the folks from back east to show them snow in July. But otherwise?

Really - be honest with yourself. When was the last time you went up the mountain for a full-day hike in the alpine? When was the last time you dragged your lover/husband/wife/daughter/son out for a mountain walk?

I know. I know. Whistlerites pride themselves on being active. But it still blows me away how empty the high mountains are at this time of the year. Not you?

And yet... their beauty is unsurpassed in early fall. And it's got absolutely nothing to do with extreme. Step away from the W/B lifts - a few hundred metres at most - and suddenly you're surrounded by a quiet, powerful landscape that still remains true to its own nature. Venture even further and it quickly becomes evident why the mountains have always been the abode of gods among traditional storytellers.

There is magic in these mountains. And the higher you get the closer you feel to it - the more the crap from valley life sloughs off. Hike long enough and you just might transcend your human carapace and feel natural again. Real. Grounded.

I mean, feel it. You're above 2,000 metres and negotiating a steep talus slope. Your heartbeat is steady and strong. Tha-thump-thump. Tha-thump-thump. Take a breath. Long and steady. Hmmm. Breathe out again. Aaah. Sense the air dance over your skin; raising tiny goosebumps along its path. Oooh. Now take a step. But carefully. Steady now. Find your traction. Push off and reach up. Yeah. And another. And another. Your pulse accelerates. Your breath comes in faster. And suddenly you're free - free of your angst, free of your fears, free of your problems. It's just you and the talus slope.

Feels good, doesn't it?

And over there, over the edge: look. A crafty old raven soars on an afternoon thermal. Below a fat marmot ducks for cover. Seems like he doesn't trust brother raven. Oh well. I wouldn't either.

Further away - across the valley - a blue-veined glacier slithers down the vulcanized bowl of its ancient mountain host. It almost looks alive - the ridge-backed dragon of medieval myth. Is that a goat walking the ridge?

But I digress.

We've got bikes coming out the yin-yang at Whistler. Big, hefty bikes for ripping down trails and skinny-minny bikes for eating up road miles. Lots of bike events too - and very successful ones at that. No question. Two-wheeled culture is thriving in this valley.

But hiking culture? Not so much. In fact, I heard a factoid recently that really disturbed me. According to my informant (a long time hiker/climber in this corridor) there are fewer access trails to the alpine today in Sea-to Sky than there were in the 1960's.

Is that true? I'm not sure. But feel free to write in and let me know. And if it is true - what a damn shame!

Seems kinda foolish to be promoting jazz festivals and film festivals and wine parties and all that stuff at Whistler when we can't even take advantage of our natural gifts. Know what I mean? How can we have let this happen? And what's it going to take to restore some of those old-time access trails again?

And yes, I realize how much work Arthur DeJong and his crew of mountain elves have put intro trail-building in the Whistler and Blackcomb alpine zone. And I'm a HUGE fan of their work. But that's all lift-accessed stuff. Pay-to-play, ya know. What about the other great mountain peaks in the region? When are we going to see new trails built there?

I don't know about you, but it still seems to me like we haven't got our heads around what it is that makes us distinct in Whistler. It's the mountains stupid. Not the jazz. Nor the food. And certainly not the "new" Olympic plaza.

Don't get me wrong. I think all these things are great for Whistler. And they can certainly play a role in our cultural renaissance. But they're add-ons. Until we find a way to underscore our marketing signature with a rainbow of mountain-related activities, I believe we're going to struggle to make our mark.

Don't you think? And unless I'm terribly mistaken, mountain hiking - in all its manifestations - may offer us one of the best little storylines going. Meaning? Unlike skiing and snowboarding and mountain biking and other gear-intensive sports, hiking is a minimalist's dream-come-true. Grab your shoes, a pair of hiking poles (if you wish), a partner - and voila! You're all set.

Oh - and did I mention it also provides the best pre-season conditioning for skiers and riders? Just thought I'd throw that in...

So do me a favour over the next few weeks. Pick a destination you haven't visited in a while - I don't know: Rainbow or Black Tusk or Wedge or... and take a hike. Seriously. Just take off. For a morning. An afternoon. Maybe even a full day. But do it! I promise you won't be sorry. Oh yeah - don't forget the moleskin.