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Discordant notes on Whistler’s Flute

Following contours or drawing lines in the sand; Do firm boundaries make good parks?

By G.D. Maxwell

On opening day of 1987, all the buzz in the valley was directed toward upstart Blackcomb Mountain. There was a new base of operations, the renamed Rendezvous restaurant was three times larger than it had been the previous season, and three new, high-speed, detachable quads were running – Wizard, Solar Coaster and 7 th Heaven.

On Whistler Mountain, things were calmer. The Peak Chair had been installed the previous season, as had the Village Gondola. Highway 86 had been cut around the back side of the peak. Most long-time locals and weekend warriors were thrilled at the prospect of skiing Whistler Bowl and the terrain opened up by Peak Chair; others grumbled the easy access would spoil their favourite haunts and that dilettantes would be poaching the best lines without having hiked to earn them.

Almost lost in the noise of the ensuing season was a change to the boundaries of Garibaldi Provincial Park. Blackcomb gained acreage in the Crystal zone and Blackcomb Glacier Provincial Park was carved out of Garibaldi and brought within the mountain’s Controlled Recreation Area (CRA). On Whistler, former park lands comprising Symphony and Flute basins were now within the mountain’s CRA.

The effect of the new park boundaries on Blackcomb was almost immediate. Showcase T-bar and Crystal Chair opened the next season, giving skiers immediate access to vast new terrain.

On Whistler though, Symphony remained a bit of a hike off Peak Chair or the T-bars and Flute was the backcountry. Even after Harmony Chair was installed in 1994, Flute remained out-of-bounds and without benefit of either avalanche control or Ski Patrol. It was the near-backcountry trek of choice and a truly wicked place to be on a powder day. Future development maps of Whistler Mountain showed Flute serviced by lifts… but the future was, well, the future.

In 2001, the future finally arrived. "When Flute basin was allotted to Whistler back in ’87, it was so far beyond the planning of the day that there wasn’t much attention placed on it. By 2001, when we were interested, we noted issues with the boundaries," Arthur DeJong, planning and environment resource manager for Whistler-Blackcomb explained.

"The problem was a jog in the boundary that took out the natural base station topography." The jog excluded a bench of land at 1,525 metres above sea level. The bench offered both topography to build a chairlift base station without necessitating substantial earth moving and it seemed to be within the natural flow of the land. "Skiers are like water; they follow gravity," Arthur said.

"We went to B.C. Parks and told them if we didn’t change the boundary, we’d have to do a massive cut and fill, that the bench was the environmentally sane way to go. They thought it made sense and would have less impact on the environment by putting it there so they agreed."

There were other issues at the summit of Flute. The boundary within the mountain’s CRA at the top was very steep and posed more cut-and-fill problems if a lift was to be placed there. Land within the park to the south and west included a more gentle, natural line that followed the ridge between Flute and Piccolo, land more suitable for building a service road and providing intermediate skiers a gentler descent. As well, the upper boundary was described as height-of-land, that is, it was drawn right along the ridgetop. "When you walk a ridgetop, it naturally changes left to right as it follows the height-of-land. So there’d be a chunk of ridge that would be in the CRA, then there’d be another chunk that would be park. Laying out service access would get messy. We could avoid that by having some small area off the height-of-land. Parks saw the sanity of that and supported it."

When the discussions were complete in December of 2001, an area of somewhere between 50 and 70 hectares was proposed to be added to Whistler’s CRA. The land comprised the bench at the base of Flute basin and a strip of land along the ridge from there to near Piccolo summit. Parks would be given an area of approximately 112 hectares of mainly old-growth forest along Singing Pass trail and down into Fitzsimmons Creek.

When word of the land swap finally reached the public, there was a firestorm of criticism.

The general public first heard about the land swap in a news story in the May 24, 2002 issue of Pique titled , "Land swap will have skiers singing in musical bumps." The story stated the agreement was currently being considered by the provincial legislature and a decision was expected within the next month. Tom Bell, planning officer for B.C. Parks was quoted as saying, "We see it as a win-win."

Speaking on behalf of Whistler-Blackcomb, senior vice-president of operations , Doug Forseth, termed the agreement an "adjustment" to the boundary. He also made reference to plans to eventually place two lifts in the area but stressed, "We want to approach it in a very natural way so it’ll be a different type of experience than what we have on the rest of the mountain."

Perhaps presciently, he also hinted there would be some people who wouldn’t be thrilled at the proposed development.

An Engaged Public

Letters to the Editor began to trickle in over the next week. Al Whitney, Mitch Sulkers and Bob Brett of Sea to Sky ParkWatch wondered where due process had disappeared to since the announcement had come out of the blue . They raised issues of public consultation – there had been none – environmental assessment of a lift encroaching right on the park boundary – there had been none – and the loss of a buffer zone between the commercial enterprise of Whistler Mountain and the boundary of Garibaldi Park.

Miraculously, a provincial legislature not known for moving swiftly, approved the changes to the park boundary as part of an omnibus bill just six days after the story appeared , the last day they were scheduled to sit before adjournment. With no recourse to the legislature, ParkWatch hung their hopes on consultation with Whistler-Blackcomb to air their concerns. "Whistler-Blackcomb is an environmentally aware company, they’ve shown that time and time again, and we will appeal to them to see if there’s a solution that addresses our concerns," Bob Brett said at the time.

A torrent of letters appeared following the announcement. The executive director and president of the Federation of Mountain Clubs of B.C. weighed in, writing separate letters. Concerned citizens did likewise. And ParkWatch reiterated their disappointment with the process. Clearly there was anger with the decision, though most of it seemed to be directed toward the Campbell government for showing an utter lack of regard and disinterest in public input.

"Parks at the time referred to the swap as fixing an administrative error," Bob said recently. "But let’s consider that. If it was just a small error, there shouldn’t have been a problem putting it out to process and allowing public consultation to take place. And if it was a big error, it really should have gone to public process. That’s the way government should work."

It didn’t. With a potential PR nightmare on its hands, Whistler-Blackcomb decided to engage its critics. "We invited them to come walk the boundary with us," Arthur said. "We conducted 11 tours during the summer of 2002; over 100 people participated." The objections people had seemed to fall into a couple of categories. Many were concerned with the impact of potential motorized traffic in the area, the aesthetics of cutting trails, and whether there were plans to operate the lift for sightseeing during the summer.

"We assured them there would be no motorized vehicles except for essential lift services and that operating it in summer didn’t work logistically. When we presented our vision for the basin as a gladed development, not a conventionally trail-cut pod, people agreed that’s what they wanted to see."

In the end, Arthur was comfortable most people who took part were, if not supportive, at least comfortable Flute wasn’t going to end up clear cut. Of course, the deed was done; the land was formally, legally within the mountain’s CRA. Short of an expensive and probably futile court challenge, there really weren’t many alternatives for anyone opposing whatever Whistler-Blackcomb decided to do in Flute basin.

With opening day of the 2004-05 ski season finally here, skiers and boarders heading out to Boundary Bowl – which may require a name change – will find something missing. No boundary ropes. This season, Flute is in-bounds. Signs, an avalanche control gate and 700 controlled and patrolled acres, the mountain’s marketing material terms a "backcountry-style" experience awaits.

But don’t go looking for a lift out there; there isn’t one.

There are, however, still concerns.

The most fundamentally troubling among them are the impacts any future chairlift in Flute may bring.

Bob Brett is a well-known, local ecologist. A former director of the Canadian Parks and Wilderness Society (CPAWS), Bob helped form Sea to Sky ParkWatch specifically to address issues of park integrity in and around Whistler. Like many of us, he also works at Whistler-Blackcomb, consults for the municipality, has lived in Whistler for many years, is raising a family here, and makes the occasional foray into the backcountry. He is passionate about parks and wilderness.

"A long standing thread of CPAWS is the protection of ecological integrity – that’s one of the key purposes of parks. You have these islands of wilderness in a sea of development, that remain, as much as possible, untrammeled by human influence. To make that a reality, you can’t just draw a line and then go right up to that line with incredibly intense development and not expect it to encroach into the park. We have to, as a society, decide what buffers remain outside of the park, so that there is literally a line in the sand, beyond which really is wilderness. Going right to the edge of the park boundary with a lift terminal inevitably means that buffer is moved inside the park."

It seems, however, a chairlift in Flute is a matter of when more than if. "I don’t see a chair in the next two or three years," Doug Forseth stated recently. "It could happen, I guess, but it’s certainly not in our three-year planning right now. Our approach this year has been to provide a quasi-backcountry experience. We need to understand how the area skis and how people are going to feel about it. We wonder whether (a liftless) Flute can be a value-added and differentiating experience versus just more of what we already have. We’d like to understand that better before we go in and spend a lot of money and do damage to the environment.

"I don’t know that we’re totally convinced lifts will be the right thing in there or not," he continued. "We don’t know yet. We might find what we’re doing is going to work just fine. If it doesn’t and we find we need those lifts for reasons that we don’t see today, then we’re always prepared to go there if we have to."

There’s no question the development of Flute with a chairlift would amplify all the concerns people expressed about opening the area. It would transform Flute into just another alpine bowl. It would bring large numbers of skiers directly to the park boundary. It would stimulate their inevitable curiosity about what lay beyond the new ski area boundaries. And it would bring with it a massive infrastructure: service roads, lift towers, power lines, backup diesel power, grooming, machinery spills, a whole new aesthetic.

The Country Further Back

But Bryce Leigh is concerned about what opening Flute, even without a lift, is going to mean to the backcountry experience. Bryce has been coming to Whistler since 1971 to ski, hike, climb and enjoy the backcountry. He is active in the local section of the Alpine Club of Canada and has made Whistler his home for the past eight years.

"Previously, if you wanted to ski backcountry, you could hike up Flute, ski down into Oboe, go up Cowboy Ridge and you were still in treed, alpine, gladed terrain with some meadows. The terrain lacks a number of significant, inherent risks like crevasses or mountaineering challenges. Now, with the ski area boundary moved further out, anyone wanting the same quality of backcountry experience will have to keep going. The problem is, when you go one step further, suddenly you’re into Overlord Glacier, Whirlwind, and a whole different realm of travel, a whole different drainage. You’ve gone way above treeline.

"You can ski on Flute on a bad-weather day when you can’t see a thing; you know where the trees are and you know you’re going to either ski out Singing Pass trail or skin back up and go to the bottom of Harmony. But when you take the next step, and you end up in the park, headed toward Fissile and Overlord, that’s not really possible. You need good conditions and it’s a whole new challenge to go in there. So, if you’re a backcountry skier, your park’s been eroded."

While acknowledging those concerns, Doug points out, "That argument disregards the rights we’ve been given to develop this location. We’ve been given the responsibility and the right to develop that if and when we want to. It’s been in our CRA for a long time and we just haven’t chosen to go there. You don’t build this all at one time."

Many people raised objections about the possibility of motorized, recreational travel pushing out as far as Flute. On both Whistler and Blackcomb, winter snowmobile and summer ATV tours take place. "No," said Arthur in response to the question. "No motorized vehicles except for essential services. You won’t see commercial tours out there."

And earlier this summer, after crews had erected a new boundary fence and avalanche gates along the ridge of Flute, a number of people objected. The fence, anchored by large, removable wooden posts in metal sleeves, angered people. It was, especially in its natural setting, an eyesore. During the long hike toward Flute summit, it loomed large on the horizon and formed both a physical and mental punctuation to anyone hiking the Musical Bumps.

Clearly, the fence – some fence – is a necessary requisite to bringing Flute in-bounds. Let’s be honest, some percentage of skiers are, well, stupid. They’ll follow tracks in the snow without a clue where they lead, whether there’s a route out and what dangers lie in wait along the way.

But the size and intrusiveness of the fence rankles Dean Cote, a local photographer and park advocate, among others. "The size of the fence is overbearing. There’s never going to be more than four feet of snow on the summit of Flute. It doesn’t get 20’ up there. To have a 20’ fence on the summit is too much. That’s blatant. People want to stand on the summit and take in the views, not be overpowered by a fence."

"We did everything possible not to build the fence," said Arthur. "We took all the senior patrollers up there, got Parks involved. But at the end of the day there was no way we could bring people up there without creating a perimeter."

Since the fence is removable, will it come down in the summer when hikers would find it particularly unsightly? "Personally, it would be my choice to do that," Doug said. "That’s a gorgeous area. We don’t need the fence line there in the summertime."

In the final analysis, whatever happens in Flute is really just a microcosm of a much larger argument. It’s really a philosophical skirmish over the value, the highest and best use of wild public lands.

Arrayed on the one side are the commercial forces that have been at work in the wilderness since Europeans stepped foot on North American soil. While loathe to couch the struggle in biblical terms, the roots of this view lie squarely in the Old Testament. " And God blessed them, and God said unto them, Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it: and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth ." Genesis 1:28

While perhaps not having the power of God on their side, those with heartfelt concerns for the Earth’s rapidly diminishing wild places walk in the footsteps of Thoreau and hear his admonition, "In wilderness is the preservation of the world."

The development of Whistler and Blackcomb has largely come at the expense of Garibaldi Park. We eagerly ski on runs formerly within park boundaries. It’s one of the conundrums faced acutely by people who enjoy and use wilderness.

And it gives rise to difficult, complex arguments over the use of public lands for private profit. The argument gets played out in agriculture, ranching, and will, increasingly in British Columbia, continue to get played out in recreation. The Campbell government’s push to develop recreational tourism will pit conservationists against ski area developments, motorized travel into wild places, golf courses and other endeavours seeking a slice of supernatural British Columbia. If the land swap that brought Flute into focus as a Park versus Development issue is any indication, the current government feels both empowered and comfortable coming down on the side of development with little or no compunction to bring these issues before the public.

"Where do we draw our line in the sand?" concludes Bob. "On a worldwide basis, wilderness is obviously shrinking. Any changes we’re taking here are irreversible. It’s always the park that gives. At what stage do you make a stand and say, ‘No, we’re not going to give any more?’ I say we’re at that stage now."



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