The calm before the snowstorm

Day nineteen. A little over two thirds into the Odyssey, but as yet there's little sense of the clock ticking down. We still have eight full days ahead of us, and this weekend will bring yet more new skiing companions to Whistler, though they won't be staying with us: Marianne's aunt Nina, uncle Martin and their two daughters will arrive on Saturday. Alex and Eleanor are eleven and thirteen, respectively. I anticipate being outskied by both of them.

Whistler has been bathed in sunshine for the past three days, and we've made the most of it, revisiting our favourite haunts on both mountains. One highlight was the Blackcomb Glacier, where I had unfinished business: it was on the short hike to it that I finally succumbed to a stomach bug in the first week. We did subsequently ski it two days later, but the weather was poor and I was still not well; I hadn't fully appreciated it before.

The pictures below don't convey its scale but they do, I hope, hint at its beauty. I felt privileged to be there. On skis it's unforgettable: challenging, a little scary, life-affirming.

Marianne's parents Mike and Lucy have been gently rediscovering their ski legs after an eight year hiatus; after skiing the learner area on Whistler on Tuesday, they joined us today for a run through the wonderful Seventh Heaven area of Blackcomb. This is the highest lift-served terrain on either mountain (2,284 metres above sea level, for the geeks like me) and on a clear day you can spot the first-timers a mile away. They're the ones with wide eyes and dropped jaws, forgotten ski poles trailing on the ground.

If there's a downside to having a full house, it's having to share my lovely wife. I'd got to the point where I didn't recognise her any more without her ski jacket and goggles; we realised on Tuesday that we hadn't actually had a conversation in two weeks. So we ditched the others and went on a date. We ate pizza, got slightly drunk, debated the relative merits of huskies and golden retrievers, speculated about which part of eastern Europe our waitress was from. Brilliant. There's more to life than skiing.

Despite the sunny skies, the resort has been quiet these past few days, but today (Thursday) marks the end of the calm before the storm, on two fronts. Tomorrow will bring the first of the weekenders, and next week we'll see an influx of Americans in advance of the President's Day long weekend. Half term in the UK will also bring more Brits.

There's a change in the weather due, too. Heavy snow is forecast from midday tomorrow through much of the weekend; we could have as much as a metre by Monday night. Looks like our easy cruising days are a thing of the past.

But fresh powder is to be celebrated. This time, I'm ready for it...

(Lucy on her first real run of the holiday: Lower Whiskey Jack, Whistler, 8 February)

(It's REALLY, REALLY COLD! Whistler Mountain, 8 February)

(The eyes of a man with too many days of too much adrenalin behind him. MORE! Must have more! Oh and I love my skis - which are now thoroughly battle-scarred. In front of our fireplace, 8 February)

(Feel our pain. Joe - nearest - Steve and I hike up to the entrance to Blackcomb Glacier. 9 February)

(A view from the entrance to Blackcomb Glacier. 9 February)

(From the centre of the Glacier. 9 February)

(See that dot? That's me, that is. Blackcomb Glacier, 9 February)

(The Day 19 crowd ready for action. From left: Andrew, Joe, Steve, Marianne, Lucy and Mike. Blackcomb, 10 February)

(Mike at the top of the 7th Heaven chairlift. Blackcomb, 10 February)

(And now something completely different: Whistler by night. Virtually every tree is lit up like, er, a Christmas tree. Taken by Marianne when we took a night off from Da Family and went on a date. 9 February)