Ahh, this is better. I was beginning to forget what it felt like to be pelted by rain hour after hour, day after day. I’m back from the Cariboo, skis waxed, Gore-Tex rejuvenated, spirit antsy as all get out, ready for another ski season to begin.
Climbing out of Lillooet on the drive back, a nostalgic feeling began to simmer up inside me as I stabbed the windshield wipers into life. "Gettin’ closer to home," I thought.
Somewhere near Blowdown Creek, intermittent couldn’t keep up with what was falling and I could feel the excitement begin to well up. If it was raining this hard already, cresting the pass would be a four-wheel drive experience. Maybe the road would even be closed because it was snowing so hard.
After a tease of snow in the Cariboo in mid October, the weather adopted the region’s famed lifestyle – maybe tomorrow, maybe never. It turned mild, never snowed again, rained infrequently and half-heartedly and actually warmed up enough to force me to lie in the sun beside a smouldering leaf fire and daydream about all the things a more dedicated gardener might do... tomorrow... maybe.
Somewhere near the highest point on the Duffey Lake Road, near the first warning sign for trucks to check their brakes, check their load and phone their loved ones, the point just before the 15 per cent downhill grade warning signs, I kicked the wipers into high and wished I had another speed beyond that. Rain fell in sheets, buckets, cats and dogs. A plague of rain. Not a flake of snow. Not even one of those big, congealed, sloppy flakes.
"This is not good," I murmured. "We’ve got to be as high as the Peak." Visions of early opening vanished and thoughts of rock skiing returned. "Gotta stop obsessing about this and think about something else."
So I began to draft a mental list of things to do to stay sane waiting for the rain to stop, the snow to start and good skiing to finally rule the land again. Being a public spirited kind of guy, I’ll share my wet-weather To-Do List with you. Yeah, I know, prince among men, blah, blah, blah.
#1. VideoMania. I don’t even know who all rents videos in town anymore. There’s Marketplace, but it’s changed hands. There’s Nesters I’m itching to try out. Creekside and the village must still be around and the library for those of us still waiting for our first paycheque. If you want to wallow in despair until things dry out, here’s five I’d get, not that all – or even any – of these are available.
Blade Runner
. Pre-apocalyptic, future-shock Los Angeles even makes Whistler look dry.Key Largo
. Bogey and Bacall holed up in a Florida monsoon with Edward G. Robinson at his psychotic best little-big man gangster persona.Metropolis
. In this past-perfect, futuristic world, the workers finally rise up and flood things out.The Rainmaker
. The 1956 version, not Tom Cruise overplaying a lawyer. Yokels in a drought-parched, Midwest backwater pin their hopes on Burt Lancaster to make it rain. That’s real dust on the screen, folks.Lifeboat
. If the Chinese hadn’t beaten him to it, I’m sure Hitchcock would have been credited with inventing water torture just for this movie.#2. Slug races in Village Square. I’ve got a long brown I’ve been training since spring that I’ll put up against any comers. And just to spice things up, some informal, pari-mutuel betting might give the new locals something to take their mind off the weather.
#3. The Whistler Public Library. Our tiny, temporary library is a haven for body and soul. Joan – the world’s most helpful librarian – can recommend the perfect book for you just by looking into your eyes or checking your aura. There’s probably a lot of empty shelf space in the travel to warm places section though.
#4. Gallery hopping. They’re warm, they’re dry and no one really expects you to buy anything. Just try and refrain from saying things like, "Christ, little Johnny could do that and at these prices, we could let him support us." Those kind of statements make gallery workers go postal and sculpture was, in its raw form, the original blunt object.
#5. Bar hopping. If you need instructions, skip this one.
#6. Romantic walks. I’m always amused when I read Personal Ads by people who say they like romantic walks in the rain. I can’t think of anything less romantic than walking in the rain unless it’s taking your amour du jour for a ride on the Twister after eating three chili-dogs with onions. Don’t ask.
#7. Make wine. Surf on down to Funky Junction and start some grape juice fermenting. This is not only a life-affirming activity, it hedges your bets on the weather. If it starts snowing like the old timers say it will, you’ll have plenty of vino to enjoy the good times. If it stays like it is, you can drown your sorrows, not just your shoes. Either way, the 28 day wait will give you something to live for.
#8. Virtual Vacation. Jump on the Internet – in your own home if available or at the Library if not – fire up one of the search engines and type in something like, "sunny vacation." In the blink of an eye you can be transported to one of several hundred thousand matches. Kill time, have fantasies, feel the virtual sand between your webbing toes. Somewhere on this Earth it’s sunny and warm right now. Let your mind free your spirit.
#9. Meadow Park Wreck Centre. Go for a workout, stay for the steam room. Swim ‘til your arms fall off, then lay in the whirlpool long enough to poach. The more exhausted you get, the less you’ll notice the liquid snow falling. Strengthen both your body and resolve to wait out the flood; there’s powder days a-comin’.
#10. Get outta town. If all else fails, if you just can’t stand it anymore, if you find yourself actually plotting the murder of your roommate(s)/employer/dog, hit the road. Cash in your RRSP, take out a loan, stiff your landlord a month’s rent if you have to. It’s your mental health we’re talking about here. I’m sure our friendly local travel agents must have some low-roller trips to Vegas on offer. It’s always hot there.
As for me, I’m heading for the Wreck Centre to begin my patented 10-Days to Skiing Fitness program. Right after I kick Zippy the Dog’s butt off the sofa and settle in to watch The Rains Came with Myrna Loy and Tyrone Power. Oh boy, monsoons in India.
