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Mountain wisdom from a local elder

Change is upon us. And it’s happening faster than most people realize. Politics. Demographics. Technology. Communications. They’re all having profound impacts on how mountain tourism is evolving.

Change is upon us. And it’s happening faster than most people realize. Politics. Demographics. Technology. Communications. They’re all having profound impacts on how mountain tourism is evolving. “But few people around here really get it,” says 76-year-old Peter Alder. “And that makes me worried for Whistler.” He stops for a moment. Shakes his head in frustration. “If we don’t pull our heads out of the sand soon and take responsibility for our own future,” he tells me, “we’re all doomed.”

Criticism is easy. Coming up with solutions is much harder. So what does Peter suggest? “I would very much like to see if we, as citizens of Whistler, couldn’t buy a part of these mountains,” he says with a straight face.

What? The town should purchase a share of Whistler-Blackcomb? The elegance of his proposition floors me…

“Why not,” he says. “We already have all the mechanisms in place. And it’s part of our story. After all, the Resort Municipality Act of 1975 was legislated for this very kind of eventuality. Besides — don’t you think it would be a great wake-up call among our citizenry?”

Welcome to the wild and colourful world of Peter Alder. Welcome to a world where contentious ideas and provocative opinions reign. “You can dismiss this as the ravings of an old man,” he says with a glint in his eye. “I don’t care anymore. Somebody has to stand up and tell it like it is.”

There is still the unmistakable burr of the Swiss mountains in Peter Alder’s speech. And there probably always will. After more than half a century in B.C., the globetrotting ski resort consultant embodies that rare combination of European weltschmerz and New World entrepreneurship that is so refreshing in this world of the politically correct. He’s sharp. He’s cynically funny. And he doesn’t suffer fools. “We’re hiding behind the Olympic banner,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “And that’s not going to save us. I mean — do you think the IOC or VANOC really have Whistler’s best interest at heart? C’mon. We’ve got to look way further down the road than that…”

When it comes to Whistler and the future, Peter doesn’t mince words. “We have no leaders. We have no vision,” he says with a despairing sigh. “I look at our fancy 2020 document and I say: ‘Good God! This is not where the world is going’.”

He takes another deep breath: “Look,” he says, “if you draw a road-map for somebody — and you want to get them where they are going — you have to depict your surroundings as realistically as possible. That’s the problem with the 2020 thing. It’s a make-believe document.” He laughs. “Don’t get me wrong. There are some great thoughts in it. It’s just not real…”

Before you dismiss Alder as just another Whistler eccentric it might be worth reflecting on his years of experience in these mountains. “I first came through this valley in the summer of 1956,” he says. “I was working for B.C. Electric back then and we were laying construction transmission lines from Seton Portage to Cheekeye (near Squamish).”

Along with a buddy, Alex Keith, the young engineer started exploring the high country around Rainbow Lodge where they were being billeted. “We hiked everywhere — Metal Dome, London Mountain, Blackcomb Peak. That’s when I realized just how great the ski tourism potential was around here.”

Alder had grown up around mountains. “Both my parents were ardent alpinists and skiers,” he explains. “Just before World War II my father invested in a number of Swiss ski areas — and ended up owning them when tourism dried up during the war. So I was familiar with the business. And I was convinced you could build a really good ski product around here.”

It wasn’t long before Alder had moved his young family to Squamish. “I was pretty sure this is where I wanted to be,” he says. “So I started PACO Building Supplies (which became Garibaldi Building Supplies) with a local visionary by the name of Pat Good.” He stops again. Sighs at the memory. “He folded his umbrella a few years back you know. But he did a heck of a lot for Squamish over the years. He’s never gotten the credit he deserves for his work…”

Being an entrepreneur was all good and fine. But Alder wanted into the ski business. “When the Garibaldi Lift Company was established in the early 1960s I went to meet with Franz Wilhelmsen to see if I could get a job,” he says. And then bursts out laughing. “But he threw me out of his office.” Turns out Alder had an option on a piece of land around the old Jordan’s Lodge that the president of Garibaldi Lifts wanted for his own use. Unfortunately, Alder wasn’t selling.

Stymied in his quest to work on the new ski area, Alder accepted a job running Rossland’s historic Red Mountain — “That’s where I learned the ski business for real,” he says. “How to cajole, fib, beg for funding, clean toilets and flip burgers just so that the business can survive for another season.”

Alder’s professional CV is far too long to go into detail here. Let’s just say he played a seminal role in the establishment of a professional cadre of B.C. ski resort managers at a time when this province was just emerging as a regional ski power. One of the first to understand the role of education in the big picture, he was involved in setting up the Canada West Ski Area’s Association as well as the ski area management course at Castlegar’s Selkirk College, before hooking up with the B.C. Ministry of Transport as the province’s official lift inspector.

“It’s pretty funny the way I came back here,” he says with a slightly wicked smile playing across his features. “Some of Whistler Mountain’s chairlift grips were having slipping issues, and so they brought me in to see if I could fix the problem. And I did. Well, one fine day, Franz called me into his office — the same one he’d kicked me out of over a decade before — and offered me the job of mountain manager.” The year was 1978. Alder had come home for good.

“I’ve been really lucky,” he says. “For the last 20 years I’ve been associated with Ecosign and Paul Mathews. I’ve really enjoyed my time there…”

But enough reminiscing about the past, he says. He wants to talk about the future. And he’s quite serious about the town buying a slice of Whistler-Blackcomb. “I want Whistlerites to be able to control their own destinies,” he argues. “I want our young people to feel involved in our future.” And it’s not such an outlandish idea, he insists. “It’s happening in the Alps — communities like Ischgl and others in Austria have become partners in their local ski operation. And the French have been doing it for years.”

His eyes gleam with excitement. “And it could easily happen here,” he tells me. “As I said — we already have the tools. All we need to do is convince the B.C. government to help us float a loan — something we’ve done successfully in the past. Then we borrow the money and make an offer for part of Whistler-Blackcomb Limited Partnership. Not the whole thing — all we need is 30-35 per cent. It’s a no-brainer!”

He smiles. And it’s immediately obvious that it’s already happened in his mind. “Think of what that would do to the citizens of this town,” he says. “Talk about pride of ownership. Talk about feeling connected.”

Peter Alder is on a mission. And it’s a mission that Whistlerites need to take very seriously. As outlandish as it sounds — as crazy and wild and inconceivable as it may appear today — Peter’s vision for the future of this community makes my heart pound harder and my pulse race. For it’s the best damn vision I’ve heard for Whistler in years!