Marianne, Steve and I aren’t that committed. We’ve settled for a chairlift, a draglift and a short – but draining – hike. We’re not true powder hounds. But today, the luck is with us.
It’s 10.30 in the morning on Sunday, day ten of the Odyssey and this, for me, could well be its crowning moment. Blackcomb Glacier has been shut for virtually our entire visit but the weather has finally relented; we were in the right place at the right time when the chairlift opened and are amongst the first to the top. Below us lies a vast, open bowl, cradled between the mountains; pictures and words do it no justice but suffice it to say we feel privileged to be here.
It’s not a place for the fainthearted or inexperienced; my limited skills are only just up to the task. There are almost no tracks but it won’t be long before others cotton on; it’s time to swallow the fear, point our skis downhill and go.
So we did.
Having skied through some truly atrocious weather – imagine the wind chill when it’s minus eight, snowing and gusting to 60mph – we were delighted when the mountain gods finally gave in and graced us two relatively clear days to finish off. I mentioned Harmony Ridge in an earlier post, but for days 10 and 11, it was all about the Glacier and Seventh Heaven – the latter a glorious mix of wide-open alpine playground and gladed trails below the treeline.
We know it well from many previous visits but as with everywhere in Whistler, you could spend a lifetime skiing it and still be surprised. Although we did revisit the tree that Marianne collided with last year. I even took a picture.
Along with my newfound abilities in powder, I’ve made great progress with my tree skiing this year. I’m still slow, but I can pick my way through some pretty steep terrain with a minimum of tree-hugging. More importantly, I’m growing to love it. Having conquered In the Spirit on Saturday, I wrapped up some unfinished business over the final two days – Arthur’s Choice, which defeated me last year, and the Catskinner lift line, which I chickened out of on day four this year.
And that, sadly, is all she wrote. The timing and duration of Odyssey 2012 were dictated by other commitments – usually we ski earlier in the season – but March is usually Whistler’s snowiest month and on the basis of this trip I’d certainly choose it again.
As I write, Whistler is over a thousand miles behind us and receding fast. We’re skirting the northern end of Hudson Bay, blown along by a hurricane-force tailwind. These words are travelling at over seven hundred miles an hour.
As ever, we’re sad to be leaving – but it’s been a bruising week and a half. The fabulous snow has led to minor injuries for all of us; I’m nursing a sprained ankle which I picked up on day two, and we’re all groaning like octagenarians every time we struggle out of chairs. It’s probably the right time to be leaving the mountains behind.
We take with us hundreds of pictures, hours of video, and priceless memories to last a lifetime.
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