Worst Whistler ever …
Last weekend Bill and I made our way up to Whistler in British Columbia for the 2008 WinterPride ski week. We’ve never really been into “community” activities — we actually did attend an IML one year in Chicago, but entirely on accident; the sight of a crowd of leather-clad men kept us amused for hours — so WinterPride is actually something unusual for us to attend. The fact that the Whistler / Blackcomb resort area has been nominated the best ski area in North America (besting Aspen, Vail et al) for the past few years is an added bonus.
It was our second year. Last visit we had a ton of fun: hanging out at the apres ski get-togethers, crowd watching at theme parties like the “BearTrap”, meeting some interesting folks.
No so much this year. Sigh.
This year I had to make the trip up with a bad headcold. A headcold which degraded into a lovely sinus infection, and a few days after that a nice bout of bronchitis. It was everything you hate about winter sickness: sweaty fever / icy chills, dripping nose, hacking cough, unstoppable sneezing. Except this time, it was in a 4-star hotel, with a 1 minute walking distance to the gondola for the best skiing in town.
I took Friday off as a day of rest to hopefully kick the bug enough from my system. I woke up Saturday (whether by force of will or adrenalin or the fact I knew I pre-paid $75 for a lift ticket) raring to go up the slopes. I would not be denied.
One of the things that makes WinterPride so cool is the fact that there are a big number of ski groups (ranging from Slow Green to Fast Double Black) and they’re all a good number of skiers; generally no more than eight. Ghim and I got into a fast blue group and set off. The group was really good — I was the slowest amongst them — and the group leader Peter set us down some really great powdery runs. The trouble was, I couldn’t breathe let alone exert myself to actually keep up the pace of the group. I took one tumble into an 18-inch bank of powder and got the wind knocked out of me. From that point on, I was basically done for. Ghim skied down the mountain with me, I stopped to get a beer in me at Dusty’s cafe and took the shuttle bus back to the village.
Sigh. There’s always next year. This time with Zicam and lots of echinacea.
