I thought I hated the snow. My only experience dealing with this icy nuisance as an adult has been in cities. On those rare occasions when snow would fall in NZ or London it would be great for the first five minutes. Then it would turn to a hazardous brown mush clogging up the sidewalk, sending public transport and motorists into a state of turmoil.
So naturally it had never been my intention to take a trip to Whistler, one of the world’s most famous ski villages, less than a two hour drive from Vancouver. However when presented with a last minute opportunity to go with four others making it an affordable and short get-away I simply couldn’t turn it down.
After a few hiccups with hiring a car Amanda, Ellesha, Lorna, Claire and I departed Vancouver and heading for the hills. After we had passed Squamish the snow began to fall, lightly at first, but as we climbed further up the mountain the road ahead started to become less visible. By the time we made it to our hotel it was already about 6 inches deep.
As none had any items of clothing or footwear that was even semi-suitable for the snow we had no plans to ski, snow board, sled or take part in any sort of snow related activity. Instead we made our way down to the village via the free shuttle and walked about taking in the sights, watching skiers slide their way down the mountain from the warmth of a local pub.
The sights around Whistler village were what I had expected to see in Canada. The enormous pine trees branches slumped under the weight of the snow. Children running about screaming, throwing snow balls at each other. Open fires in every bar or restaurant. This was the first time in my life that I looked at the snow as a form of beauty rather than a pain in the ass.
If you knew the girls I went to Whistler with then you would not be at all surprised to hear that pre-drinks that night consisted of a large bottle of vodka, gin, fireball and Prosecco (matched with some wild concerns about running out of alcohol). We made our way out into the now even deeper snow to one bar by the name of Garf’s(?) which was provided nothing memorable to tell you about.
The following day we made the most of our rental car and drove beyond the village to take in the snowy sites that surround Whistler. Due to the fact we all felt slightly under the weather we slowly made our way back to Vancouver in the late afternoon, keeping ourselves entertained by trying to think of aspects of the B.C Capital we actually liked.
One thing I have learned from my short weekend away, is that snow is best suited to the wild, NOT the city.