Pique'n Yer Interest

Outwardly at least, I present the image of a cultural connoisseur with finely honed tastes. I tend to pick the arthouse film over the Hollywood blockbuster. The hole-in-the-wall over the cookie-cutter chain restaurant.

Like a lot of people in town, I have two jobs. To no one's surprise, a part-time reporter's salary barely covers my rent, so I spend a couple of days each week serving at a popular après bar.

Like a lot of people in the late '90s, I moved to Whistler to snowboard. There were other reasons, but dragging knuckles through powder was pretty much the biggest draw.

Each and every athlete at an Olympic Games has a goal he or she hopes to reach. For many, it's a medal, ideally gold.

One of the more astonishing things about Whistler's previous council was that, over the term spanning 2011 to 2014, you could count the number of dissenting votes on one hand.

When I moved to Squamish last fall, I was certain about a few things: the Sea to Sky Highway was about to become my worst enemy, I would encounter a lot of clueless tourists driving with summer tires, and skiing on weekend mornings would be entirely

I sometimes wonder what a full-tilt après-ski scene looks like to people who have never skied or snowboarded a day in their life.

A couple of years ago, I was cleaning out my childhood bedroom and found a project from elementary school. The task was to write an autobiography, including a list of ambitions.

In the excitement of the Winter Olympics and so many compelling Canadian stories, it's easy to forget that the Games themselves are in a bit of a crisis.

About a month ago, an interesting musing came up in my Twitter timeline.