Stairway to Heaven
Used to have to hike to get to the top of Whistler Mountain...this was about the last time it happened - May of 1986 ... the boot pack up little whistler
This was a story I wrote years ago...
There's a long traverse up in the Whistler alpine area this year that leads from the top of the Saddle to Shale Slope. Shale Slope has lots of tracks on it but the big bumps that in recent years usually cover the run have yet to form. Skiers are getting up to the alpine on the Harmony Chair because the Peak Chair hasn't yet opened for the season. It's amazing what the lack of the Peak Chair does to the skiability of the alpine.
With only the Harmony lift open it's a fairly long traverse to Shale. Skiers actually have to work a little to get there and it's obvious that only a few skiers are willing to put in the work.
Once upon a time there was no Harmony Chair and no Peak Chair and the alpine area had a totally different character. Whistler Bowl, Glacier Bowl, Shale Slope, and West Bowl were not bump runs. On the right days they were back-country runs where skiers could convince themselves, with only a little effort, that they were up on an unserviced mountain, far away from civilization.
The T-bars have been around since Whistler opened. The early developers of the mountain rightly realized that access to the alpine was something that made Whistler special and the T-bars allowed access to that area. Skiers could ride to the top of the T's and then either ski down right beside them or, if the sign line was open, venture further. It was called the sign line because the sign said, "Attention. If you proceed beyond this point you leave the Whistler Mountain patrolled area. Steep slopes, hazardous terrain and uncontrolled avalanche danger. When skiing above this point you do so at your own risk." The sign meant what it said.
There was a very well-used low traverse that cut across Glacier Bowl and Whistler Bowl and finally cut across Shale Slope about three-quarters of the way up that run. It was often a pretty challenging traverse because there were lots of rollers and skiers had to commit to pretty high speeds along the route in order to stay high. It usually got pretty interesting as it snaked around the corner underneath Don't Miss.
If there were no slower skiers in front (because the traverse was almost always only wide enough for one skier at a time) and the skier was prepared to let the skis run it would take a little less than ten minutes to get to Shale Slope.
There was a high traverse as well and it, obviously, started and stayed higher than the lower traverse. It allowed for longer runs down Glacier and Whistler Bowl and required more effort, but that extra effort was usually rewarded by more untracked and more turns.
Skiers who really wanted the alpine experience got off the T-bar, traversed to the sign line, took off their skis, and hiked, yes, hiked, up Little Whistler. Hiking up Little Whistler took thirty to forty minutes. Unless the sign line had just opened there was usually a well-defined staircase cut into the snow made by previous skiers but it was still a grunt. Most who hiked up stopped for a few minutes to sit on the rocks at the top of Little Whistler, catch their breath, and socialize.
The Roundhouse used to seem a long way away from up there. As soon as hikers put on their skis and turned the corner at the top of Little Whistler to start the relatively flat traverse along the top of the mountain they felt like they were really in the mountains, away from the ski area, on their own. There were no buildings and no lifts to be seen. There was no ski area noise. There were no snivel stations. It was glorious
Skiers could choose to traverse along and drop into Glacier Bowl from the top, or continue along and drop into Whistler Bowl, or ski Burnt Stew (which had a hellishly long exit before the mountain cleared the traverse and began grooming it), or continue to West Bowl. Really adventurous types might head for Piccolo, Flute, or Oboe.
Because it required work to get there not a lot of people made the effort which meant that those who did were rewarded by lots of uncut powder lines. Depending on the day it could take four or five hours before all the obvious lines were skied and less popular, hidden lines could be found for days.
One of the best days in Whistler's alpine was the staff party the spring before the Peak Chair went in. The mountain closed, as it often does, in a blizzard. It snowed all the next day too but then the day after that, the day of the staff party, the weather cleared. It was a beautiful day. The party was held at Pika's and the T-bars were open.
The entire alpine was blanked by twenty-five centimeters of light, dry, uncut powder. A consensus decision was made that there would be no low traverse cut that day. When the sign line dropped, to the chant of "No low, no low, no low!" staff started cutting the high traverse. The first in line dropped into Glacier Bowl and cut lovely turns down the slope. Face shots all the way. Those behind continued on to find their own fresh. Because many staff were more interested in the party going on at Pika's than in skiing there were only around a hundred and fifty people skiing the bowls. They got fresh tracks all day long on uncut white slopes under a big blue sky. Those who were there will probably remember that day for the rest of their lives.
The next year the Peak Chair was running. Anyone who has waited in the Peak Chair corral for the lift to open knows what that scene is like and what happens to the alpine once the lift starts unloading public at the top on a powder day. Skiers riding up the Red Chair (which isn't even red anymore) who look over and see the Peak Chair opening know it's not even worth heading for the lift because everything will be skied out before they even get to the chair. The alpine area has become one big bump run. There are so many bumps up there that they now have to groom the Saddle.
The opening of the Harmony Chair provided even easier access to the alpine and allowed more skiers to get up there even faster. It also seemed to allow skiers to notice the area to the south. Piccolo and Flute now have a highway leading to them. Flute sports bumps when it hasn't snowed recently. Soon, rumor has it, there will be sleeping and eating yerts (a yert is a kind of mountain hut), a hot tub, and doubtless generators chugging away, at the bottom of Flute somewhere. This facility sounds like it will not be for the Gore-Tex and duct tape crowd but rather the corporate types from Fort Worth who can afford it. Is this the thin edge of the wedge? If they're going to run a hot tub they should be able to run Super Nintendo play stations. Why not get the corporate partners involved? Maybe they can be called the Nintendo 64 Yerts. Maybe one day there'll be a movie theatre on the top of Blackcomb, a climbing wall on Decker, a Nike store at the bottom of the Cakehole...
The alpine area continues to be developed. It has little of the back-country feel it once had. This was perhaps inevitable and from a certain perspective it is probably a good thing. People who never, ever would have made the climb can now stand on Whistler Peak and look over at the dramatic black pillar called the Tusk. They too can enjoy being at the top of the mountain. For many (judging by the line-up on the Peak Chair, especially on a sunny day) it's the best place on the mountain to be.
In a way it's just a matter of degree anyway. How much is too much? Whistler Peak was really only a back-country adventure when skiers like Stefan Ples were hiking from the valley to ski it. The T-bars began the development. The Peak and Harmony chairs just continued it. Doubtless there were those who considered the T-bars almost sacreligious when they first went in. And yet, in providing high-speed lift access right to the Peak, the alpine area changed in a fundamental way. It became just another part of the ski area, like all the rest, but with fewer trees. Ultimately it was just too good to last, too wonderful to remain the terrain of those willing to work for it. It became a victim of itself.
Nothing is certain in the life except change. What happened to the alpine is a lot like what happens to some small towns. People are attracted by the laid-back people and small-town feel. The empty parking lots, uncrowded stores, and absence of bylaws are charming. They move so they can enjoy the lifestyle. More and more people move in for the same reasons and then, one day, the very thing they moved for has disappeared.
Stairway to Heaven
Used to have to hike to get to the top of Whistler Mountain...this was about the last time it happened - May of 1986 ... the boot pack up little whistler
This was a story I wrote years ago...
There's a long traverse up in the Whistler alpine area this year that leads from the top of the Saddle to Shale Slope. Shale Slope has lots of tracks on it but the big bumps that in recent years usually cover the run have yet to form. Skiers are getting up to the alpine on the Harmony Chair because the Peak Chair hasn't yet opened for the season. It's amazing what the lack of the Peak Chair does to the skiability of the alpine.
With only the Harmony lift open it's a fairly long traverse to Shale. Skiers actually have to work a little to get there and it's obvious that only a few skiers are willing to put in the work.
Once upon a time there was no Harmony Chair and no Peak Chair and the alpine area had a totally different character. Whistler Bowl, Glacier Bowl, Shale Slope, and West Bowl were not bump runs. On the right days they were back-country runs where skiers could convince themselves, with only a little effort, that they were up on an unserviced mountain, far away from civilization.
The T-bars have been around since Whistler opened. The early developers of the mountain rightly realized that access to the alpine was something that made Whistler special and the T-bars allowed access to that area. Skiers could ride to the top of the T's and then either ski down right beside them or, if the sign line was open, venture further. It was called the sign line because the sign said, "Attention. If you proceed beyond this point you leave the Whistler Mountain patrolled area. Steep slopes, hazardous terrain and uncontrolled avalanche danger. When skiing above this point you do so at your own risk." The sign meant what it said.
There was a very well-used low traverse that cut across Glacier Bowl and Whistler Bowl and finally cut across Shale Slope about three-quarters of the way up that run. It was often a pretty challenging traverse because there were lots of rollers and skiers had to commit to pretty high speeds along the route in order to stay high. It usually got pretty interesting as it snaked around the corner underneath Don't Miss.
If there were no slower skiers in front (because the traverse was almost always only wide enough for one skier at a time) and the skier was prepared to let the skis run it would take a little less than ten minutes to get to Shale Slope.
There was a high traverse as well and it, obviously, started and stayed higher than the lower traverse. It allowed for longer runs down Glacier and Whistler Bowl and required more effort, but that extra effort was usually rewarded by more untracked and more turns.
Skiers who really wanted the alpine experience got off the T-bar, traversed to the sign line, took off their skis, and hiked, yes, hiked, up Little Whistler. Hiking up Little Whistler took thirty to forty minutes. Unless the sign line had just opened there was usually a well-defined staircase cut into the snow made by previous skiers but it was still a grunt. Most who hiked up stopped for a few minutes to sit on the rocks at the top of Little Whistler, catch their breath, and socialize.
The Roundhouse used to seem a long way away from up there. As soon as hikers put on their skis and turned the corner at the top of Little Whistler to start the relatively flat traverse along the top of the mountain they felt like they were really in the mountains, away from the ski area, on their own. There were no buildings and no lifts to be seen. There was no ski area noise. There were no snivel stations. It was glorious
Skiers could choose to traverse along and drop into Glacier Bowl from the top, or continue along and drop into Whistler Bowl, or ski Burnt Stew (which had a hellishly long exit before the mountain cleared the traverse and began grooming it), or continue to West Bowl. Really adventurous types might head for Piccolo, Flute, or Oboe.
Because it required work to get there not a lot of people made the effort which meant that those who did were rewarded by lots of uncut powder lines. Depending on the day it could take four or five hours before all the obvious lines were skied and less popular, hidden lines could be found for days.
One of the best days in Whistler's alpine was the staff party the spring before the Peak Chair went in. The mountain closed, as it often does, in a blizzard. It snowed all the next day too but then the day after that, the day of the staff party, the weather cleared. It was a beautiful day. The party was held at Pika's and the T-bars were open.
The entire alpine was blanked by twenty-five centimeters of light, dry, uncut powder. A consensus decision was made that there would be no low traverse cut that day. When the sign line dropped, to the chant of "No low, no low, no low!" staff started cutting the high traverse. The first in line dropped into Glacier Bowl and cut lovely turns down the slope. Face shots all the way. Those behind continued on to find their own fresh. Because many staff were more interested in the party going on at Pika's than in skiing there were only around a hundred and fifty people skiing the bowls. They got fresh tracks all day long on uncut white slopes under a big blue sky. Those who were there will probably remember that day for the rest of their lives.
The next year the Peak Chair was running. Anyone who has waited in the Peak Chair corral for the lift to open knows what that scene is like and what happens to the alpine once the lift starts unloading public at the top on a powder day. Skiers riding up the Red Chair (which isn't even red anymore) who look over and see the Peak Chair opening know it's not even worth heading for the lift because everything will be skied out before they even get to the chair. The alpine area has become one big bump run. There are so many bumps up there that they now have to groom the Saddle.
The opening of the Harmony Chair provided even easier access to the alpine and allowed more skiers to get up there even faster. It also seemed to allow skiers to notice the area to the south. Piccolo and Flute now have a highway leading to them. Flute sports bumps when it hasn't snowed recently. Soon, rumor has it, there will be sleeping and eating yerts (a yert is a kind of mountain hut), a hot tub, and doubtless generators chugging away, at the bottom of Flute somewhere. This facility sounds like it will not be for the Gore-Tex and duct tape crowd but rather the corporate types from Fort Worth who can afford it. Is this the thin edge of the wedge? If they're going to run a hot tub they should be able to run Super Nintendo play stations. Why not get the corporate partners involved? Maybe they can be called the Nintendo 64 Yerts. Maybe one day there'll be a movie theatre on the top of Blackcomb, a climbing wall on Decker, a Nike store at the bottom of the Cakehole...
The alpine area continues to be developed. It has little of the back-country feel it once had. This was perhaps inevitable and from a certain perspective it is probably a good thing. People who never, ever would have made the climb can now stand on Whistler Peak and look over at the dramatic black pillar called the Tusk. They too can enjoy being at the top of the mountain. For many (judging by the line-up on the Peak Chair, especially on a sunny day) it's the best place on the mountain to be.
In a way it's just a matter of degree anyway. How much is too much? Whistler Peak was really only a back-country adventure when skiers like Stefan Ples were hiking from the valley to ski it. The T-bars began the development. The Peak and Harmony chairs just continued it. Doubtless there were those who considered the T-bars almost sacreligious when they first went in. And yet, in providing high-speed lift access right to the Peak, the alpine area changed in a fundamental way. It became just another part of the ski area, like all the rest, but with fewer trees. Ultimately it was just too good to last, too wonderful to remain the terrain of those willing to work for it. It became a victim of itself.
Nothing is certain in the life except change. What happened to the alpine is a lot like what happens to some small towns. People are attracted by the laid-back people and small-town feel. The empty parking lots, uncrowded stores, and absence of bylaws are charming. They move so they can enjoy the lifestyle. More and more people move in for the same reasons and then, one day, the very thing they moved for has disappeared.