Time has a way of putting things in perspective. Young folks fresh into adulthood (who we sometimes derisively refer to as “kids”) often see the world through rose-tinted glasses, where long-term commitments to their careers, their finances and even their relationships happily run aloof. The focus is simply on having fun, meeting people and enjoying every possible new and exciting experience. The influx of young people to work their one (or many) seasons in Whistler is in part, or sometimes in whole, attributed to these aspirations.
It certainly was for me when I stepped off the Greyhound bus in Whistler Village many moons ago, wide-eyed and ready for the adventure of living in what I had heard was the best ski resort in North America.
If you ever return to where you grew up as a child, you’ll notice everything seems smaller now. The world of a five-year-old starts at your home and finishes down the street, or wherever your parents designated the boundary. Now replace that five-year-old with a 22-year-old young adult, and the street with the Whistler Valley, and you’ll see where I’m going with this.
When I arrived in the mid-2000s, no one wanted to live far from the village. If you worked for Whistler Blackcomb you hopefully got your first season sorted at Glacier Lane staff housing, but after that, you were on your own to find rental housing. And yes, while the rents weren’t as excruciatingly expensive back then, it was still a challenge to find housing, just as it always has. Living south of Creekside was considered remote and inconvenient, too far from the social scene of town. Cheakamus Crossing was still a municipal landfill at the time and Function Junction was all but an industrial No Man’s Land. Emerald had plenty of cosy cabins, but the bus ride to and from town was brutal. I remember meeting a girl whose car was filled with so much stuff it looked like she was living out of it, just because she didn’t want to drive to and from Emerald more than once a day. The idea of living in Squamish or Pemberton was still far-fetched, and you never met anyone in your age group doing that commute. Why would you move from the other side of the world, to not live in Whistler?
Then, time happened. Whistler built aggressively for the 2010 Olympics and Cheakamus Crossing slowly became a more desirable place to live (before the traffic got REALLY bad). Pemberton was gaining a reputation as the place to move and raise a family, and Squamish began to gentrify, filing off its rough edges and reputation as a road stop on the way to Whistler. Friends of mine began to migrate up and down the corridor, while I held on to the Whistler dream tooth and nail.
Last weekend, I joined their ranks. Just as I passed the 20-year milestone and qualified as a veteran Whistler local, I made the move to Squamish. What prompted this after so long? Let’s just call it a fresh start. A long-term relationship ended. I was in need of housing with my dog, bikes and snowmobile in tow. After so many years of centring my life around access to ski lifts, it was time to dip a toe outside of the town that raised me from a wet-behind-the-ears pup with a ski bag to a guy in his 40s who somewhat has his shit together.
There’s a lot I’ll miss about being a true Whistler local. The impromptu ski days that turn out to be sleeper hits. Rolling over to the bike park most nights of the week. Sitting on a bench on the shores of Alta Lake as I admire the view of Whistler Peak and West Bowl while my dog enjoys the afternoon breeze. There’s nowhere in the world quite like it.
While my address is changing, my connection to Whistler is not. I’m still here writing opinion columns and the occasional feature story for Pique. I’ll be coming up the highway for powder days, either with my skis or with my sled. I’ll be up to see my old friends, ride the latest gnar on the Westside and diving off a couple of Alta Lake party barges at every opportunity. On the daily, I’ll be exploring the nooks and crannies of Squamish, walking my dog along the estuaries and meeting a new community of like-minded folk.
Moving down the street doesn’t look too bad at all.
Vince Shuley is feeling fresh. For questions, comments or suggestions for The Outsider, email [email protected] or Instagram @whis_vince.
