It only takes a short visit from a friend to make you realize how lucky you are to live in Whistler.
Shame on me for forgetting this.
When I first got here two and a half years ago I couldn’t stop looking up. I’d get off the bus at the end of Function Junction and walk north to the office, wondering how on earth I ended up in this paradise.
I couldn’t imagine that I would ever stop being amazed.
But last weekend’s visitor has made me realize that I haven’t looked up or around in a really long time. Could it be that I’ve simply gotten used to Sea to Sky country, that I have begun to take all this natural beauty surrounding me from granted?
The exclamations began on the car ride up from the city. They got louder as we drove by the Tantalus mountain range, quieted down a little in awe as we drove through Whistler and then got really loud on the way past Green Lake.
If you’ve had a visitor here, you know exactly what I’m talking about.
I began playing the role of the offhanded tour guide, routinely pointing out the sites like Black Tusk, Fissile, Wedge, with a little wave of my hand.
When we got out of the car the next wave of exclamations were about the smells all around, particularly the smell of clean, fresh air.
She was practically drinking it in, taking in deep breaths of mountain air, still pointing above.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I said as a hurriedly unpacked the car. "We have fresh air here. It’s great."
The next morning on the way for a ski the excitement began just as soon as I turned the car out of my driveway and Wedge Mountain and Sapphire Bowl came into view.
Next, Green Lake was shimmering in the sun and rising up behind it was Whistler and Blackcomb Mountains.
Little pockets of clouds cast an air of mystery to the forests.
I must confess – in the morning when I pull out of my driveway, I’m generally rubbing my eyes awake, juggling a coffee cup and trying to focus on the CBC while running through the long list of things that I have to do that day.
Rarely am I looking up at Wedge Mountain just for the sake of it.
"You’re so lucky to live here!" she said.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. It’s great. Did you remember that ski pass I gave you?"
If the views from the ground were generating this much excitement, you can just imagine what it was like when we got to the top and began skiing (in May! in sweatshirts! in sunscreen! in great spring skiing conditions!).
She stopped to admire the view on the cat track off the top of Peak Chair on the way to the Saddle as I blew by her, praying my snowboard wouldn’t stick to the snow and I could make it to the top of the run without unbuckling.
You know I’ve seen the view a million times before.
The day was topped off with beers at the GLC, watching mountain bikers get in their first thrills of the season.
For any visitor who hasn’t seen a downhill mountain bike park in action, this is a look into a whole other world. In Whistler, it’s no big deal for us.
"Yeah, that’s the GLC drop. People do that all the time."
Our hike to Cheakamus Lake the next day was all about how big the trees were, how beautiful the forest was, how blue the lake was.
You get the point.
Halfway through the hike I finally started to pay attention.
And then I began to get my old eyes back and really look at Whistler as I did the first time I saw it.
It happened when we were sitting on a log at Cheakamus Lake.
If you think this water is blue you should see the water of Joffre Lakes, I said.
That’s a hike and a view that could really take your breath away.
If you think the skiing was good yesterday, let me tell you about the 45-centimetre day I had this winter. We were practically choking on the powder.
That’s a day’s skiing that you wouldn’t soon forget.
Soon I even found myself defending the cost of real estate in Whistler, if you can believe it.
This is why it costs $1 million or more to buy a home in Whistler.
This is why people have to scrimp and save and work three jobs just to get by. This is why I don’t want to go back to Toronto, to the choking smog, the congestion and the pancake flat views.
I live in one of the most beautiful places in the world. And I’ve been taking it for granted for a long time now.
I guess you could call it an epiphany of sorts.
What’s the point of living here if I don’t stop and take in the views once and a while?
So I’ve made a new resolution. From now on I’ll be looking at Whistler through my old eyes, the eyes that were awe-struck and wide open and taking everything in when they first got to town.
I’m going to smell the air, look above, hug a tree and stop to ponder.
It’s strange that it takes someone from out of town to show you how lucky you are to call Whistler home.
