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Maxed Out

Killing the Golden Goose: Part I

Let’s suppose it’s a nice, sunny day in Sea-to-Sky land and you have an irresistible hankerin’ for the last of the fresh strawberries and, as good as they are, you want something better than whatever’s been picked over down at Nes

Solutions for this summer's problems

Summer’s here and the time is right for marchin’ in the street. Or maybe Village walkway. I can’t imagine a street protest in Whistler.

A glimpse at life on the other side of the curtain

You never know the truth about another person until you walk a mile in their shoes. Of course, most of us have only a passing interest in the truth about others and given the choice, would prefer all of them keep their shoes on around us.

Max’s guide to summer in Whistler

Hey, what can you say about a place where the sun shines every day – okay, I exaggerate – there’s plenty of things to do to entertain you, a feast of outdoor activities is just a few pedal revolutions away, the natural beauty is off th

The ski season finally begins

Well, now that summer seems to have finally arrived in Whistler – just in time for the solstice – it’s time to pack away winter clothes and ski gear and...

It's a guy thing

"Give a man a fish and he will eat for a day. Teach him how to fish and he will sit in a boat and drink beer all day." George Carlin As hobbies or pastimes go, I guess fishing is no stranger than any other.

Flying has absolutely no redeeming features.

By G.D. Maxwell Having once stepped foot on a commercial airline this summer and survived, I am now left to ponder the unpleasantness of what can only be described as a daunting, unprecedented future.

Flying the friendly skies

I do not consider myself a violent person, indeed not even a particularly angry person. But I have a deep pool of empathy whenever I hear a story about air rage.

The glory of a local brouhaha

Oh, it must have been glorious. Messy, confrontational, sensationally democratic, Tuesday evening’s council meeting had all the promise of a classic small town dust up.

In spring a young private eye’s thoughts turn to…

By J.J. Geddyup It was raining in Tiny Town. A steady, persistent, rain somewhere between drizzle and deluge. An ornery rain that had overstayed its welcome, like some tiresome politician trying to grind out one more vote in a pointless election.