Recently, after a birthday and some hard-earned revelations, I realized I may be experiencing a mid-life—if not a crisis, then at the very least a renaissance.
At 36 years old, I posited, I am roughly halfway through my life on Earth.
(Word to the wise: if you’re of a similar age, don’t mention this observation around any older coworkers, lest they pull up the stats for the average life expectancy in Canada in a desperate, vain attempt to cling to the last gasps of their own mid-life crisis… not that I’m speaking from experience of course. Hypothetical scenario).
But yes, for the sake of discussion, let’s say 36 is the halfway point.
As I contemplated the first half of my life, I stumbled on a stunning, if simple, realization: every high, every low; every success and every failure; every miserable, world-ending bout of depression and every last second of sublime understanding—it all existed somewhere inside those 36 years.
Everything I’ve ever done, thought, known or felt—the entire depth of the universe and the human experience—all wrapped up there in a neat little box, tucked away in a dark corner of all existence.
If we assume modern Homo sapiens emerged roughly 190,000 years or so, that would mean my entire understanding of the world and everything in it accounts for about 0.01 per cent of observed human history.
A speck of dust in a never-ending sandstorm. Alas.
It’s humbling, infantilizing, paralyzing, even—and also liberating. If that’s what I was able to squeeze into the first 36 years, what might the next 36 hold? Limitless possibilities. Master of my fate, captain of my soul. And so on.
It’s also a whole heck of a lot of responsibility. Because while I packed a lot of learning, growing, and experiencing into those first 36 years, it still feels like life is just beginning—and the decisions I make at this juncture will carry an inordinate amount of consequential weight into the future.
It was in the context of these big, expansive thoughts I watched the Feb. 6 council meeting, at which more than 50 Whistler seniors showed up to advocate for a seniors’ centre.
While some of the rhetoric was overblown—baselessly accusing council of wanting to push seniors out of town to “free up the housing for young people” is not overly helpful—the rush to the podium is indicative of Whistler’s own “mid-life crisis.”
And that concept is worth exploring.
In September 2025, the Resort Municipality of Whistler (RMOW) will turn 50 years old—a relative youngster in the context of Confederation.
Which means, much like myself after my 36th birthday, this town has some big, challenging questions to answer about what it wants to be going forward.
Whistler is a desirable place, in which seemingly everyone wants to stay and build a life—the seniors who conceived of it, the newcomers who come for a season and fall in love, and everyone else in between.
But, right now at least, Whistler cannot accommodate everyone who wants to live here. Does it want to?
According to recent stats from the province, Whistler is projected to grow by more than 46 per cent by 2046, to a population of about 20,380. That doesn’t take daily visitation into account—or the municipality’s own projections.
The RMOW’s Balance Model Initiative—a project to identify and address growth pressures in the resort—predicts more visitors, more residents, increased workforce shortages and 50 per cent more traffic congestion by 2040.
So, what are we doing about it?
The last update on the Balance Model came in the summer of 2022. The part everyone is waiting for—strategies and actions to actually address the pressures of growth—was originally supposed to be presented to council in winter 2022-23. The RMOW webpage at whistler.ca/balancemodel has not been updated since June 2022.
“We are continuing to work with a consultant, conducting methodological updates of the Balance Model,” a communications official said. “Currently this involves working with multiple internal subject matter experts, reviewing the updated methodology and assumptions, and making technical revisions.”
The goal is to “ensure it is optimized for our current and future demands of the model, and how it supports our strategic planning and understanding of Whistler’s carrying capacity,” they added.
“We must ensure the updated model is complete and verified so that we can accurately inform and educate the community. We hope to be able to share updates by Q2 of this year.”
The conversation about growth, overtourism, boundaries and bed caps is not new. But the tone and tenor appears to be changing. At one point, discussing boundary extension or raising the bed cap might have amounted to political suicide among long-term locals—in light of recent trends and projections, it would seem the discussion is not only inevitable, but crucial for securing a sustainable future for Whistler.
“We need to prepare for [growth] whether or not we are ready for it. Whistler is a diverse community, so some of us resist that growth and I think some of us are eager for it,” said Mayor Jack Crompton, in a recent interview with Pique about population stats.
“I moved here because I love so much about Whistler being a small town in the mountains—my hope is that we hang on to some of what has made Whistler so great as the province continues to grow.”
That love for Whistler as we remember it, as it was when we came to know it, is part of what makes this place so special. It nurtures a protectionism that has served this town fabulously over its first five decades. Whistler should not dispose of what made it great in the first place.
But in the above quote, the mayor cuts to the heart of Whistler’s mid-life crisis—and, perhaps subconsciously, sets the stage for the next municipal election in 2026.
Some will bemoan and resist the forces of growth and change, dig their trenches, pull up their drawbridges, and stand steadfast in defiance of the universe and its intentions.
Others will want to throw open the doors, expand the boundaries, and build, baby, build.
Many will fall somewhere in between, just hoping to get their desired days on the hill, and still be home in time for dinner.
The point is Whistler’s long-gestating growing pains are coming to a head, and fast. The conversations ahead will be difficult and consequential, and, much like a real mid-life crisis, deeply existential.
It will be uncomfortable. Unpleasant. Awkward, even. But, like confronting the natural limits of our own mortality, it’s also unavoidable.
So there’s no sense putting it off.
