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A storyteller for our times

Award-winning writer Michel Beaudry has been following Whistler’s story since the early 1970s.

Award-winning writer Michel Beaudry has been following Whistler’s story since the early 1970s. Author of Whistler: Against All Odds , host of the World Ski and Snowboard Festival’s Words and Stories, and a consultant and confidant to many in the mountain resort industry, Beaudry will examine Whistler from many perspectives in a weekly column in Pique Newsmagazine that debuts next week.

"We either tell our own stories, or others will tell them for us," Beaudry says. And that is what his column, Alta States, will attempt to be – a forum for many people’s thoughts and ideas on Whistler and the celebration of mountain culture.

As a prelude to this new column, this week we are presenting a piece of Michel Beaudry’s creative writing, How Eagle saved the Snow-Eaters.

— Bob Barnett, editor

How Eagle saved the Snow-Eaters

"When we dream alone, it is only a dream. When we dream together, it is no longer a dream but the beginning of reality."

— A Brazilian Proverb

Once upon a time – in a northern land far, far away – lived a tribe of people who loved to play outside in the snow in wintertime. They called themselves the Snow-Eaters. When the weather turned cold and the winter blizzards hit, most other tribes would hide deep inside their shelters and pine for spring. But not the Snow-Eaters. For them, playing outdoors in all seasons was fundamental to their character.

And though the cold didn’t scare them, and the wind didn’t intimidate them, they still couldn’t figure out how to move over the snow efficiently when storms hit and the ground cover got too deep.

One day, while a group of Snow-Eaters was painfully breaking trail through a particularly deep drift of snow, one of their numbers spotted Eagle flying high overhead. "Oh – if only we could fly over the snow like Eagle," he said forlornly. "What a great life that would be." The others in his party laughed, "Don’t be a fool," one of them said. "We’re not birds. Stop day dreaming and help us break through this drift."

Now Raven was sitting on a nearby branch, and overheard the Snow-Eaters talking. As everyone knows, the great trickster Raven has always been a little jealous of Eagle’s high-flying prowess. After all, among the First Animals, Eagle is considered majestic while Raven is but the jester prince. Still, Raven knew just how vain Eagle was about his mastery over gravity. Wouldn’t that just tick his old friend off, Raven mused, if he could teach these lumbering humans to fly….

Over the next few weeks and months, Raven began to haunt the dreams of the Snow-Eaters. "I know how to help you fly over the snow like Eagle," he told them. "I will show you how to harness gravity and move easily over even the deepest of drifts. But you must follow exactly what I tell you to do."

Now the Snow-Eaters knew all about Raven’s impish nature. And they knew just how cunning he could be when he wanted something. But though they examined his motives from every angle, they couldn’t see any down side to his offer. And so the Snow-Eaters accepted.

"I can’t wait," cackled Raven into his feathers. "It will just drive Eagle crazy to see these clumsy beings flying effortlessly over the snow…"

Raven didn’t waste any time. He showed the tribe how to find the strongest, most pliable timber and how to carve and shape it into fine strips of wood. He taught them how to steam the ends so that the tips could be turned up. He then showed them how to insert thongs of leather into the wood in order to bind their feet.

When the job was finally completed and the Snow-Eaters each had a pair of fancy new snow-flying wings, Raven hopped up onto the roof of the nearest hut and addressed the tribe.

"Rejoice O Humans," he said. "Because you are the first of your race to feel the wonderful freedom of flying over the snow as effortlessly as any bird. In fact, you will soar just like Eagle." And he couldn’t help cackling at this point. "Isn’t that marvellous," he said.

And the Snow-Eaters discovered that Raven was telling the truth! Now the men and women of the tribe could float over the snow effortlessly instead of sinking deep into it at every step.

Thus was launched the First Great Age of Snow-Flying – what old-timers call the Classical Age. The Snow-Eaters took to the new sport with alacrity. They would fly and jump and hike and play all day in the snow. And in the late afternoons, when the sun would begin to set over the western horizon, they would gather together and light great outdoor bonfires, drink firewater and tell each other tales of their snow-flying adventures. Stories were recounted, songs were sung and the tribe grew stronger and happier and far, far healthier. Which made them even more attractive to others who did not have the secret of snow-flying. Slowly the tribe grew. Slowly the message of snow-flying play was carried to all the winter zones of the world.

Raven’s plan was working even better than he’d hoped. These humans were taking to snow-flying much more enthusiastically than he’d expected. But if he thought that the Snow-Eaters’ new prowess on snow would rankle Eagle, he was painfully mistaken.

"Those Snow-Eaters, they’re so cute," Eagle told Raven one morning while they were sharing a fresh salmon carcass offered up to them by one of the tribesmen. "It’s almost as if they were trying to be like me. But really – they’re a long ways from flying. After all, most of their time in the snow is taken up with walking and climbing up hills."

So Raven hatched another plan. Again he visited the Snow-Eaters in their dreams. "Isn’t it fun to fly down the hill defying gravity?" he whispered in their ears. "Wouldn’t it be great if you could devise a way to get back uphill just as easily as it is to go down?" Not surprisingly, the Snow-Eaters were intrigued – particularly the younger ones. And so Raven began to teach them the secrets of a system that could magically whisk people uphill – no matter how steep the slope was.

Some of the elders balked at this new form of transport. "It’s not appropriate to our culture," they argued. "Snow-flying is about freedom and lightness and being able to go where you want to go. And that’s what being a Snow-Eater is all about too. It’s not about becoming a slave to technology."

But the younger ones were so taken with the new towing contraptions that they drowned out their elders with jeers and guffaws. "This flying thing is way too much fun to be limited by old-fashioned concepts," they said. "Besides, look at how strong and popular and sexy we’ve become." And their youthful voices carried the day. "Let progress have its way," the young Snow-Eaters proclaimed. "Let us follow the counsel of Raven yet again."

Thus began the Second Great Age of Snow-Flying. People now think of it as The Golden Age.

And it’s easy to see why. For with the creation of Raven’s magical towing devices came the consolidation of snow-flying culture. Increasingly, Snow-Eater families would gather together and set up camp around these uphill conveyors. They’d build big fires in the base area to warm themselves between snow-flying runs. Families would come to play – two, three generations worth. Far-flung members of the tribe would travel great distances to share snow-flying time with friends and loved ones.

Soon modest little cabins began to appear in the hills – built mostly for shelter from the storms – but always alive with song and dance and storytelling. Clearly, the tribe’s social ties were being strengthened by these new trends. For the rituals of Snow-Eater life were performed and celebrated with great pride and fanfare.

Sure – some of the Snow-Eaters could be rambunctious from time-to-time. And their imbibing of firewater could be excessive every now and then. And yes, their matchmaking and courting were often loud and raucous. But no one could ever argue they were boring….

Besides, the Snow-Eaters’ enthusiasm for winter play was infectious. More than ever, outsiders were drawn to the Snow-Eaters’ way of life. No surprise there. With their sun-kissed faces, healthy bodies and fun-loving activities, the Snow-Eaters were undeniably an attractive lot. Besides, snow-flying was just too much fun to ignore. And so, new alliances were made, inter-tribal love affairs were sparked, weddings were performed and beautiful, strong babies were born. It was time of great feasts and even greater speeches.

For if there was one thing that Snow-Eaters loved above all else, it was feasting and telling stories….

Thus snow-flying culture thrived. The Snow-Eaters multiplied across the land. Celebrated in song and story, the tribe’s way of life captured the imagination of a growing number of city dwellers. Simple lodges and hostels soon began to appear in the valleys where the Snow-Eaters played. Young folk, families, mothers, fathers, even grandparents – rich, poor – everyone lived and ate together in these places. And together, they shared their stories, sang their songs and celebrated the sublime joys of playing outdoors in the snow.

But Raven still wasn’t satisfied. In fact, he was mighty peeved. For some strange reason, Eagle had become enamoured of the Snow-Eaters. "What a tribe," he would say proudly, gazing down on the snow-flyers from a high snag. "They were inspired by me, you know," he would tell his friend. And Raven would look away and roll his eyes in disgust. "And now look what they’ve accomplished," Eagle would say proudly. "Most humans spend their time fighting and arguing and trying to get ahead of the next guy. But these humans are different. All they want to do is have fun flying over the snow. And they want to share that joy with others! Not only that, but they’re healthy and adventurous and they love to play. How could you not love them?"

Raven was now nearly at his wit’s end. How could he ever tweak Eagle’s vanity if the stupid bird could only focus on the good things the Snow-Eaters were doing? So he devised another plan – this one his most diabolical by far!

He started to invade the dreams of another tribe – the Money-Seekers tribe. And Raven spoke just the right words to these people. "Look at the Snow-Eaters," he said. "Aren’t they pathetic? They’re running their businesses like they were charities. In fact, they are virtually giving snow-flying away. They’re missing the whole point to the exercise!"

And then he set his hook. "Look at the opportunities here. You could make oodles of money commercializing the different elements of their snow-playing games. Snow-flying schools. Equipment sales. Food and lodging. Real estate even. It’s all up for grabs. So what are you waiting for?

Now the Money-Seekers are not bad people. In fact, most of them are responsible and caring individuals. But play without a profit motive is inconceivable to them. So Raven’s argument was potent indeed, and they were quickly convinced to get involved. They made deals, bought up land, and invested in factories. Slowly they displaced the Snow-Eaters from decision-making positions within their own tribe. And at first, nobody paid any attention. After all, most Snow-Eaters preferred being outside playing in the snow rather than inside dealing with budget variances and spreadsheets….

And the Money-Seekers continued doing what they love best – making money. At first, things went well. Buoyed by the goodwill amassed by the Snow-Eaters over the years, snow-flying continued to attract scores of new adherents. But the Money-Seekers wanted more. More people. More money. More profits. So they hired consultants and lifestyle experts to tell them how to make the most of their snowplaying investments. And the consultants all agreed: most people were not at all like the Snow-Eaters. They didn’t want adventure and risk and excitement in their holidays. They wanted things EASY.

So the Money-Seekers complied. Fancy new technology was developed to make the snow-flyers’ ride up the mountain more comfortable. High-tech gear was designed to make the snow-wings even easier to use. And finally, hills were groomed to billiard-table smoothness to eliminate any element of surprise.

And thus began the Third Great Age of Snow-Flying – which some old-timers immediately dubbed the Age of Decadence. Many were convinced this was the beginning of the end. "We warned you about heading down this slippery slope," they said.

But most of the young Snow-Eaters weren’t listening. New gear, better grooming, faster lifts – how could there be anything wrong with these developments?

As time went on, however, a disturbing trend began to make itself manifest at snow-flying areas around the world. For the Snow-Eaters’ culture of communal fun and family activities was slowly being displaced by a way of life that seemed to value things more than human interaction.

And why should it be any different? For real estate developers now controlled the hills and widget makers made the snow-flying tools. As for the storytellers and the artists and the minstrels – the keepers of the Snow-Eaters’ vision – they had to answer to professional listmakers who couldn’t care less about soul or mountain play.

And so, the sacred icons of Snow-Eater culture slowly began to disappear from the scene. First the base lodges were eliminated, as the land was now far too expensive to allow mere Snow-Eaters to share their meals and their stories together under one roof. Then the once-popular inns and lodges (site of countless feasts and festivals) were replaced by exclusive hotels and pricey condominiums. And finally, the small hills that formed the social backbone of the culture were slowly forced to shut down their operations.

For according to the Money-Seekers’ creed, bigger was always better, and the little hills simply couldn’t deliver the goods….

Most disturbing of all, however, was the steady decrease of Snow-Eater numbers in the overall snow-flying population. And that had a bigger impact on the business than any of the Money Seekers’ high-priced consultants could have ever predicted. For it turned out that the Snow Eaters were the best promoters of their culture after all. It was their passion for snow play that got most people jazzed about being outside in winter in the first place. It was their unassuming joie-de-vivre – their stories and songs and people-focused games – that was so infectious and inspiring for other tribes.

And so, snow-flying culture stagnated. Instead of appearing edgy and sexy and hip and cool, it was more often considered plastic and snobby and expensive and out-of-touch. The slightly outlaw, slightly eccentric spirit that had been so lovingly nurtured by the Snow-Eaters now was but a faint memory….

The Money-Seekers knew they were in trouble. For though they did their best to promote their snow-flying enterprises, the number of participants continued to fall. It didn’t make sense. Millions of dollars had been spent to make the sport more accessible to wannabe Snow-Eaters. So why weren’t they participating? The Money-Seekers were completely frustrated. Something had to be done soon; otherwise everyone would lose!

As for the Snow-Eaters, they were utterly demoralized. Their culture raped, their fun commodified, the members of this once-powerful tribe felt entirely marginalized from mainstream snow-flying. Some simply retreated further into the mountains and resorted to the backcountry life of their forebears. Others married into the Money-Seekers and did their best to conform. Still others fell into a nasty cycle of drink and self-abuse. It was a time of great sadness across the northern lands….

Now Eagle was watching all this with growing concern. Although he was far less likely than Raven to be drawn into the affairs of humans, he felt himself getting drawn deeper and deeper into this drama. For his heart ached to see what was happening. He had fallen for the Snow-Eaters’ spirit. He thought they had shown promise for the future of the species – a future, he knew that was not particularly bright without them. If snowplay culture were to thrive and grow, then the Snow-Eaters had to be helped. There was no alternative. Eagle would have to get involved.

Raven, on the other hand, was gurgling with delight. For he had finally gotten Eagle’s dander up. Not really in the way he wanted – for deep down he too liked the Snow-Eaters and was genuinely sorry for the way things had turned out for them – but still he’d managed to get that big, self-satisfied excuse for a raptor off his butt and worrying about something other than his profile. And that had been his goal all along. "So what are you going to do about it?" said Raven to Eagle. "How are you going to help your Snow-Eater friends now?"

Eagle didn’t answer. But he did have a plan. Using his great reserves of strength and stamina, Eagle flew out to the far-flung winter zones of the globe and he gathered together the strongest and most passionate Snow-Eater warriors he could find. It took many days of flying. And much coaxing and convincing. But he finally had them all assembled.

"Listen to me," he told them from the branch of an old grandfather cedar, as they stood below him, curious and just a little bit apprehensive about his summons. "The future of your tribe – the future of the human race in fact – is at stake here. You have great stories to tell. And great deeds to be celebrated. You have passion and charm and a huge capacity for social play. And your love of the outdoors is unmatched. The way you approach life – the way you celebrate your surroundings – is the very thing other tribes need to emulate if they are to survive into the next millennium."

And here Eagle paused for a moment to let his words sink in with his startled audience. For Eagle was a favourite of the gods, and he knew more about humans and their collective fate than just about any other First Animal.

"So now my friends," he continued more quietly, "the time has come for you to go back and seize the reigns of your sport from the Money-Seekers. It’s not that they are bad people. Or even that they’re members of an evil tribe. It’s just that they need you far more than they can ever understand. They need your vision. They need your leadership. And they need your humour. For without these things, they re doomed."

Eagle had the Snow-Eaters’ attention now, and he decided to plunge forward with his message.

"It’s simple," said Eagle. "The Money-Seekers are a hard working tribe, but they have no imagination. They don’t see poetry and art in everyday activities like flying and playing in the snow. They see only numbers. And in their rush to make profits, they entirely miss the point of being alive. With this snow-flying thing, the Money-Seekers ignored the values of the culture that you Snow-Eaters had nurtured for so long – the family focus; the community-based social wealth; the sheer unmitigated exuberance of flying down the mountain unimpeded by gravity or social standing."

"And these principles," concluded Eagle, who was a little shocked with himself for speaking so long – and so passionately, "are the magical ingredients that rendered the snowplay world so attractive to so many people in the Old Days. And these are the principles that need to be disinterred before the culture disappears forever. So go now. Get involved. Tell your stories to the Money-Seekers. Sing your songs to the banks and financial institutions. Dance for the accountants and comptrollers. Teach them your magic. Show them how rich your culture really is." Eagle paused for a moment. Then he spoke again. "For you Snow-Eaters, more than any other tribe on this planet, know what true wealth is all about."

And then without another word, he flew away.

For a long time after Eagle had spoken, the Snow-Eater warriors stood quietly below the old cedar. They had all heard him speak. They had all understood his message. But doubts lingered in their minds. What now, they wondered. How to behave? Was it not too late anyway? Were they really strong enough to take on the Money-Seekers on their own turf?

Finally an old man stepped to the front of the crowd. He looked around at his fellow tribesmen and women. Challenged them with his old rheumy eyes. Then he spoke. "How sad it is that it was Eagle who had to assemble us in order to pass on such a message. How sad that we could not maintain the culture of snowplay that we ourselves introduced to the world. But now is not the time to feel sorry for our fate. Now is the time to gird our loins for battle. For we are still the Snow-Eaters. We are hardy and strong and resourceful and bold."

Again he looked around at the crowd. Again he challenged his listeners with his eyes. But no one spoke up. "Wake up," he thundered. "Be brave. Stand tall warriors of the Snow-Eaters’ tribe. Eagle has set you your task!"

Silence reigned among the warriors like a mass of dark clouds on a stormy day. But not for long. For a lone cheer rose up from the back of the crowd. "We’re with you, Old Man," came the cry. "We are the Snow-Eaters!" Then his words were picked up by another voice. And another joined in. Suddenly the ripple of approval became a torrent. And the torrent became a flood. "We are the Snow-Eaters," chanted the warriors. "We have the power. We will fight for what is ours!"

Raven, who had been following the proceedings from the branch of a nearby broad-leaf maple, was elated. Although he was loath to admit it, he knew he’d gone too far with his mischief – as usual. But all was not lost. His children (for he considered the Snow-Eaters more his than Eagle’s) were going to fight for their cause. "All right," he cawed. "Let the battle begin!" And he too rose up into the air and flew away.

Thus was launched what people are now calling The Fourth Great Age of Snow-Flying. I like to call it the Age of Uprising… and it’s been a harder and more dangerous time than anybody could have ever predicted. Great battles have been fought. Heroic deeds have been accomplished. And noble warriors have given their hearts and souls to the cause. But victory is still a long way from assured. Indeed – it could be decades before the Snow-Eaters regain control of their turf. If ever. So much will have to be sacrificed. So much has already been lost.

Ah, but don’t get me started on that theme. For that’s another story entirely….