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The ritual begins

In the dark abyss of the night before Christmas, it was touch and go whether I’d ever make it to New Years, let alone spring and the beginning of the end of the 2005-06 ski season.
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In the dark abyss of the night before Christmas, it was touch and go whether I’d ever make it to New Years, let alone spring and the beginning of the end of the 2005-06 ski season. Hammering furiously to patch holes in the hull of my ark, demented and delusional from pounding rain brought by Hawaii’s regifted early Christmas present, ready to chuck it all for a piece of dry desert in the outback of Arizona, I never expected to arrive intact and sane on the threshold of yet another episode of the World’s Greatest End of Season Party. Well, one outta two ain’t bad.

By the time you read this, we will have passed over into a really, really good Friday and the 11 th installment of the huck ’n’ jive, World Ski and Snowboard Festival will be setting the sonic beat for the next 10 days. It all begins when some band called Default takes the mainstage, tweaks their dials and commences the ritual, annual, Tap the Sap flow of springlike energy.

Welcome to insanity. Welcome to WoSaSoFe – thought I’d try out some vowels in the name this year. Sounds very tribal, don’t you think?

And tribal it is. A delicate détente has been hammered out this year between the tribes of Shredders, Jibbers and Skiers. One, one, we are all in one they chanted at this year’s athletes’ meeting. No more Us and Them, just the harmonious We. With the return of snow at the bottom of Whistler Mountain came the prospect, nay, the promise of Big Air. And with the promise of Big Air arose the Big Question. Which came first? Skier or Boarder?

This could, of course, be the seminal question behind a groundbreaking piece of scholarly research. It could, but it’s unlikely to be. It was, however, the hot-button question bandied about by the athletes at their Meeting of the Tribes confab. "We don’t get no respect," came the cry from the single-plank crowd. "We invented Big Air," proclaimed another.

"Two feet; two sticks," retorted a drunken skier. And bedlam broke loose.

As the Party Dude, Doug Perry, described it to me himself, "Max, it was the closest thing to a riot I’ve seen since the last time we let these guys play hockey against each other." Or words to that effect.

Anyway, and I digress, the upshot of it all was instead of having two Big Air huckfests bookending the festival and letting the tribes snipe at each other over whether it’s a bigger honour to go first or go last – don’t tell the snowboarders, but the answer was going last – everybody gets to go at the same time and we who only spectate don’t have to stand around freezing our feet off twice oohing and ahhing the prodigious feats of antigravity.

Of course, proximity in time and place still won’t answer the burning question, Who’s the Bigger Hucker, as snowboarders will still only compete against snowboarders and skiers against skiers, but those of us still sober enough to tell the two apart will be able to draw our own conclusions and carry the argument back into the bar where it belongs.

But, I hear you say, so what? What’s the Party Dude done for us lately? What’s new?

Well, the Father of Festivals is rolling the dice, jumping on the bandwagon, and sticking his neck out so far he’ll almost look totemic. Yes, we’re talkin’ fashion here, folks. Fashion, fashion, fashion, as the Cool White Duke used to sing.

Now you or I, okay, I, might pooh-pooh fashion as the last refuge of the truly witless and chronically low self-esteemed but that’s just because being fashionable requires too much attention to silly things like fashion trends, for example. But if there’s been one overriding theme, dare I say paradigm, on the slopes over the past few seasons it’s been the ascent of fashion. It’s not enough to simply be clothed, Dahling, one must be seen to be clothed and one must be clothed in something both stylish and functional. And if one must choose between the two, style wins over function. How else can one explain some of the bizarre one-piece pajama bag outfits one sees walking around town and riding – snowboards it goes without saying – down the slopes?

And so, fashion will take over the Telus – my one and only corporate utterance… and now that I think about how crappy my phone and internet service has been lately I just might take that one back – Conference Centre mainstage on April 20 th . Fashion Exposed is either going to be a wicked, multimedia extravaganza of street fashions with roots in the mountain, skate and surf world, or it’s going to be something no one, including the organizers, expect. Either way, part peep show, part runway, all it needs is a brass pole to make all the horny homies happy and the rest of us entertained on what would otherwise be just another Thursday night in paradise.

The real buzz for the live-to-ski set though is neither art, sport nor culture, well, maybe culture. It’s the new-this-year, World Backcountry Freeride Jam. Brainchild of Whistler’s wayward Jayson Faulkner – who spends far too much time in Vancouver dreaming about backcountry skiing – the Jam is a back to roots mini festival showcasing the alternative, or complement depending on how you look at it, to yo-yoing in-bounds lifts.

Jayson has a mission to demystify the backcountry, help people overcome their fear of the avalanche boogieman, and start skiing uphill as well as down. He plans to do that by letting people try out some of the latest tele and touring gear, learn the basics of exploring what lies beyond the ropes, take part in a fun backcountry dash and introduce themselves to what, for centuries, was thought of simply as skiing.

So saddle up, pahdners. The festival kicks off this weekend with the all-new Stompede, a part-park, jib-jam, little-big air session at the top of Emerald Chair and doesn’t end until we all lose our inhibitions in the backcountry next weekend. In between, there’ll be films, photos, art, literature, storytelling, music, food, drink, sex, and Whistler’s fabled après all day, party ‘til you pass out, what happens in Whistler stays in Whistler credo of nothing’s too good for us. And in case no one’s told you, the secret password to all the best parties is Wedgie.

As the Party Dude’s fond of saying, "WSSF’s all about you, sucker. Party in April, detox in May but whatever you do, don’t go to sleep and don’t go home with money in your pocket or anyone you know." And let’s be honest, when has he ever lied to us?