August in a winter wonderland

Whistler is enshrined in most of our minds as a winter paradise. The best skiing (and aprés-skiing) in Canada! When I visited in August, though, towering chairlifts stood empty in the sun, biding their time. The sight gave me an instant and intense desire to be skiing again, an activity I picked up for the first time this past winter and fell hard for (physically and figuratively). 

But Whistler does not shut down when the snow melts. Its beauty has no seasonal limits, and tourists flock to the gondolas to take in the views from the summit all summer long. Thrill seekers find new ways to careen down the slopes, trading in their skis and boards for mountain bikes. On the BC Day long weekend, the main village and the valley beyond were buzzing on a pitch that was decidedly not ‘off-season’.

The buildings may be modelled after traditional chalets, but Whistler village has a decidedly corporate undertone. Everyone from Starbucks to The Gap has set up a Whistler location, and the main streets feel uncomfortably like an open-air mall. There are diamonds hidden in the rough, though. We happened across Gone Village Eatery one day while poking around in a bookstore, and the combination of great service, a delicious (vegetarian friendly!) menu, and sweet local artwork on display prompted a few return visits. The Green Moustache was another cool spot (a juice bar attached to an artisan shop).

Fittingly, though, the real appeal of the valley is found outdoors. We were staying on Nita Lake, 5 kilometres from the village proper. The lakes and villages up and down the valley are connected by a highway and a series of bike paths and trails. Terra and I used all our spare hours off the water and the mountain to explore by bike or on foot. Around every bend, without fail, there would be a group of people hanging out. Lounging in lawn chairs on the front lawn, dipping their toes off the edge of the dock, sprawled on the grass around an outdoor grill. The locals came from all walks of life (shacking up in everything from dilapidated houses overflowing with ski bums to million-dollar homes with massive lake-facing windows), but seemed united by a love of being outside. Wherever a house fell on the income spectrum, in the driveway we would find utilitarian vehicles with a kayak and/or a bike racked up on top. Whistler is clearly just as much a summer haven as it is a winter wonderland, and the locals make sure no day goes to waste on the mountain.

But I still can’t wait to go back and ski.