Pique'n Yer Interest

On Thursday , I joined a group of friends at a bar and watched a basketball game (from start to finish) for the first time in the better part of a decade. Like many, I count myself among a much-maligned contingent of sports fan: the bandwagon jumper.

The chairs have stopped spinning, the last Hawaiian-shirted, bucket-hat-wearing snowboarder has downloaded, and another ski season has come and gone. Whistler is officially in summer mode.

Mountain biking has a problem. Several problems actually, all of which stem from recent trends that could upset the delicate balance the sport's pioneers worked so hard to create.

As an expat Winnipegger, I like to think I'm adept at saving money. Not squirrelling funds away and letting them grow like a wise person would do, but when I do decide to make a purchase, you best believe I'm aiming to spend as little as possible.

I was sitting at my desk on a fall day in 2013 when a vague email popped up.

When I first learned, back in 2016, that Whistler would be launching a food-truck program of its own, I let out a small but audible gasp.

Last December, the Resort Municipality of Whistler (RMOW) was in full-blown crisis mode.

Even though it's called the World Ski and Snowboard Festival (WSSF), I always think of it as one of the best locals' parties of the year.

In the film Canadian Bacon, there's an iconic scene where John Candy plows through a festival crowd in Toronto, sending bodies flying in all directions—and everybody he pushes over apologizes to him.

In this space, I've touched on how enjoyable it is to see an edition of Pique all the way through, from writing the stories and taking some photos, to putting together some pages and proofreading the copy. I've subsequently gone a step further.