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Wayne Flann — bringing respect back to the mountains

"May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds.
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"May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds."

American writer and cantankerous nature activist, Edward Abbey

There's something about mountain life that touches human beings in profound and mysterious ways. It's not for everyone — some people absolutely loathe spending time in the high country. Fair enough. Still, for those drawn to its severe standards and uncompromising nature, life in the mountains offers a refreshingly honest take on man's true place in the grand wheel of nature.

The lessons are harsh. The consequences of stupid (and/or ignorant) behaviour are often fatal. Alas, in this environment one rarely gets a second chance to screw up.

And yet. And yet... To actually be allowed to tread among these lofty summits — to experience the wonder, awe, and yes even sometimes transcendence they can trigger — well, maybe that's why the world's high places have always played such an important role in the great religions. I mean, you don't need to be a fundamentalist to feel god-touched while watching a sunset from a local peak...

You all know what I'm talking about. That's why so many of us came to Whistler in the first place. Why we settled here, started families, set down roots. We all love the mountains. We all love the incredible vertical playground they provide. From skiing to biking, climbing to touring... or even just plain walking, Sea to Sky features some of the most accessible big-mountain terrain on the continent. And some of us just can't get enough of its offerings.

But technology is a funny thing. As our tools and toys improved, many of us were emboldened to venture further and further afield. Suddenly we were able to reach places — and do things — that our forebears would have shuddered to think possible. And that awe and respect somehow faded a bit. I remember in 1984 when a trio of skiers managed to ski the Spearhead Traverse in under a day. That was impressive. Last month, that same journey was accomplished in a little over three hours.

Cool, eh? But not really. I mean, 50 years ago that was a nine-day trip. Is it really progress to reduce one of the world's most beautiful glacier-and-mountain traverses into a head-down morning sprint? Hmm...

Still, mountain touring is the one bright light in the snowsport business universe. While overall spending in 2012-13 once again dropped for ski gear (down two per cent) and even more for snowboard stuff (down eight per cent), it rocketed in backcountry-related buys (up 21 per cent).

And anyone who does any ski touring locally has felt the boom in recent years. On big days (and even on some not-so-big days), parking a car along the Duffy Lake Road has become an exercise in frustration. As for the danger...

And there's the rub. In our rush to explore our mountain surroundings we've also imported our nanny-statish, postmodern ways to the high country. As in: "if anything bad happens, it's somebody else's responsibility." I call it the cell-phone syndrome. While people will spend hundreds — even thousands of dollars — equipping themselves with the latest and greatest in high-tech mountain gear, an alarming number of these touring newcomers will forget to educate themselves about the rules of high-mountain travel. "We'll just call for help if we get into trouble," seems to be the fall-back argument.

Think about it. That's like buying a Ferrari without taking driving lessons...

For mountain safety professionals like Whistler's Wayne Flann, it's a cause for serious concern. "Things are changing really fast in the backcountry," he says. "More and more people are heading into the mountains who have no idea what they're doing." He sighs. "It's just like being on the ocean, you know. Things can change really fast out there. We have to be constantly on the look-out for each other."

There are few people in the world better placed to comment on the issue. A licensed paramedic and a longstanding member of Whistler's vaunted Search and Rescue Team, the New Brunswick born-and-raised Flann has spent the last three decades as a pro patroller on Blackcomb Mountain. "Yes, I've seen a lot of strange things in my work," he says with a laugh.

But none stranger, he adds, than what he's seeing in the mountains today. "People have no idea of basic backcountry etiquette anymore," he tells me. "Simple things, you know. Like you don't bootpack up a skin track. You don't urinate where people ski. You don't leave your garbage behind. And," he sighs, "when folks need help, you drop what you're doing and you offer assistance..."

Flann is on a bit of a mission. He wants to help people understand that travelling in the mountains entails a different way of doing things than modern urban life has prepared them for. "I think most newcomers just don't know," he explains. "And if we, as professionals, aren't prepared to teach them, then we're just as guilty."

Indeed. And like the doer that he is, Flann isn't waiting for someone else to come up with a plan. You may have come across his blog in your Internet wanderings. A must read for local big-mountain enthusiasts, the Wayne Flann Avalanche Blog offers a daily update on (mostly) Coast Mountain snow and weather conditions. Still, Flann's overriding passion for the subject is evident in the daily links he provides on the site. On a recent posting, he had avalanche-related articles from Chile, Northern India, Russia and Switzerland.

"I started the blog last year," he recounts. "If you remember, we had early-season snow conditions in 2011 that featured all sorts of issues — depth hoar, sun crust, buried surface hoar... I realized there was nowhere online that provided a good (and regular) overview of local high-mountain snow and weather conditions." He stops. Takes a breath. "So I decided to start one myself."

He admits it still surprises him to see how quickly his site has spread through the blogosphere. "I'm blown away by how passionate people are about it," he says. "I mean, people will stop me on the hill. 'Wow! You're Wayne Flann,' they'll say. 'You're the avalanche blog guy. We read your site all the time!'" And they're not alone.

For a weather nerd like me, it's a dreamsite-come-true. Pictures, graphs, weather data, links, contacts, even personal observations: it's all there. And few are the days that I don't drop in for a quick look-see. In fact, if I were a local high school geography teacher, Wayne's blog would be required reading for my students. That's why it comes as a bit of a shock when he admits the site has become "kind of a chain around my ankle."

Meaning? "OK — so maybe not a chain..." He offers me a wry grin. "But it now takes me two hours a day to update the darn thing. And given that I draw no income from it... "

It's not like Flann can afford to give his time away for free. He has a young family, holds down two jobs (along with his patrolling job he also runs his own consulting business providing safety services for film crews) and already volunteers countless hours through his search-and-rescue duties. So why no income from the blog?

It's not that he hasn't tried, he says. It's just that he hasn't found a way to make the site pay for itself yet. "I have a 'donate' button," he says. "And I know there are people all over the world who are reading it." He sighs. Laughs. "I get users who phone me up from the States: 'So what's the weather going to be like two weeks from now,' they want to know." More laughter. "That's how much they trust my forecasts. They'll totally base their vacation plans on them." He shrugs. "But I still can't get people to donate much money to the site..."

Still, to be fair, the site is starting to get a little traction within the industry. "Arc'teryx recently came on board as a sponsor," he says. "And I'm definitely looking for more corporate partners. I'm open to any and all proposals. So if there's anyone out there interested..."

Finances notwithstanding, Flann is still on a mission to educate people about the mountains he so loves. And he encourages others to get involved as well. "People aren't going to stop venturing into this beautiful region," he says. "That's why we need to do everything we can to help newcomers understand the consequences of their actions. It's all about respect." He pauses. "There's no choice. We have to get this done. We have to change the culture." He sighs one last time. "Either that or we'll destroy the mountains. And ourselves. And where would we be then?"