Gone Postal: Whistler Kids
Growing up in Saskatchewan with aspirations of becoming the next Craig Kelly, I started out my shred “career” a few shots behind the 8-ball. That didn’t stop the dream, however, and as soon as I turned 18, and could afford a tank of gas, I headed west. I eventually landed in the Lower Mainland’s suburbia where snow was easily accessible and only an inconvenience about once a year when the city was hit with snow and the ensuing panic.
In many ways, keeping the snow in the mountains where it belongs was nice, and it kept my snow-life and my real-life in the city easily distinguishable. Commuting for snow was reasonable and an ok trade-off because I had responsibilities like a job (which I know for some reading this column is a new word) and a cool community of people that we loved to be around.
Reality hit last year, however, during the mayhem of the once a year snowfall in the city. My son, who is now three, had no idea what this white stuff was and, if you can imagine putting double-sided tape on the paws of a kitten, you can imagine his tentative steps in the newly fallen snow. Something had to change.
And so, before securing a place to live or landing a job, we bought Whistler Blackcomb season passes and enrolled our 3-year old in the Valley Kids ski-school program hoping, even praying, he’d learn to love the snow.
Cheaper than daycare and with world-class instruction, we’ve found Whistler Kids to be absolutely amazing! Not only do the kids learn the Aussie language, they learn to ski. In the couple months we’ve lived in Whistler we have seen the transformation of a kid who had no context for snow begin to love it – talking, singing, and dancing about skiing all the time! Jo, Victoria, Lizzy, and the rest of the instructors over at Whistler Kids have been instrumental in helping our family settle into Whistler life, simply by helping our son love the snow. Thank-you!
And here’s the greatest thing: for the first time last week I got to do runs with my 3-year old. He’s now graduated from the gondola to the chairlift and is cruising down Bear Cub, Emerald, and the Olympic chair. Talk about a proud dad, I even had to tell him to slow down once! And even though a snowboarder hit him on his second run, he’s still stoked and talking about doing jumps and “going cruising” by himself. As strange as it seems, fresh pow and bluebird have now been relegated to second spot; now my best days on the mountain are with my son and, in my opinion, Whistler just got a little more awesome.
See ya next week for more Whistler “firsts.”
PS – Please don’t put tape on your kitten’s feet.