Canada 1999 Week 1 Part 2

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Week 1 Part 2

Skiing

Tigger and Rich

March 1 and we were in business! Skiing! Whistler had been experiencing epic snows, and our time there saw this continue. We seldom got sun, but the powder-people where pretty happy with fresh supplies of their drug arriving every day and night. Primary-coloured ski gear was also tres chic, it seemed. Red, blue, yellow. Denis and I spoiled the effect with grey and purple, but here you can see Tigger and Rich (no it's not a father and son portrait) being fashionable.

For reasons best known to himself, Rich wore a colostomy bag on his back for the duration.
A kiwi tradition perhaps.
Tigger and I tried to re-learn skiing. Tigger succeeded rather better than I, looking very comfy on some new Remington Kneissls. That evening, the Condo did a Grocery Shop. Food is quite pricey at ski resorts (duh!). Tigger and Denis got up to No Good in the back of a car.

Denis leads Tigger down the path of snowboarderism. Rudeness 101.

Tigger, your journey to the Dark Side is now complete...

Tuesday was much the same: dull light, lots of snow, lots of skiing! I began to realise that skiing with a big dose of jet lag was a mistake. In fact, being tired and sore was a two-week condition for me, I guess we live and learn. I was too tired to keep a proper diary, so a lot of this is from newsgroup posts we made at the time, and recollections from other Condo-istas.

From a Post made at this time, some quotes: "...Tigger is bossing everyone about. Then he falls asleep on the couch, and we play with him....Young Denis quietly puts up with the anti-snowboarder jokes, muttering insults to himself in Australian so the others don't know what he's saying...".

Wednesday March 3: I was so sore, just moving was agony, and elected to take my first rest day. The weather was a bit unattractive, but the others decided to try the famous Whistler Powder Breakfast, heading up the mountain for brekkie and first go at the Pow (huck phooey).
I got up late, and decided to have a nice bath. No point in closing the bathroom door, no one else in the Condo...let all the steam out. So when I heard what sounded like people entering the condo, I at first assumed it was neighbours. Nope, the Powder People had decided to make it a half-day. Apparently the weather up top was even more unattractive. Luckily I managed to get the bathroom door shut unseen, or they'd have re-thought their views on the weather...

Meanwhile, in the first three days, Taff managed to lose first of all his fully-stocked wallet, then his gloves, and finally his poles. All were returned intact.

Tigger, and Taff (on the Morrisons)

Taff and Tig in the Roundhouse Smoking Room

Thursday March 4, powder day at Whistler. I tried some Olin Sierras, which were pleasant and did well until the Powder People kindly introduced me to Bagel Bowl (Peak Chair). Too deep for me! Although the others very considerately had big stacks too, to make me feel better. I think even Denis ate some snow. Taff seemed particularly pleased with his effort: forward dive in the pike position, face plant, forward roll sans skis.

About this time, Buffalo Bills became our apres ski pub of choice. A bit hard to find, but salubrious, friendly, and free entertainment from the people who'd been heli-skiing that day, who would return here nightly to view the videos of themselves.
We discovered that you do not have to be able to ski, to go heli-skiing.

Friday March 5, off to Blackcomb. There was quite a bit of hard pack around (well, as hard-packed as Whistler ever got), so today was the day to take out those Remington Blizzards.
They were fantastic.

On this day, we met up with some lurkers who'd decided to risk skiing and drinking with us. One twosome, David Purves and his buddy, Tom Day, met with disaster the day before: Tom broke his arm! Readers of Invasion 98 will recall that broken bones are an Invasion tradition, begun by Mike of the East in Utah. Purves skiied with us this day, and also Jan Benson and Richard Morton, with his buddies Nadeem and Viktor.

The Invasion fangs Blackcomb

To left we feature Purves, exponent of extreme steep and deep skiing, on classic slaloms no less. Denis in characteristic elegant stance is behind, and Nadeem in enthusiastic full flight brings up the rear.

And here is Tigger, followed by Viktor (in yellow).

Taff, who then left for France

To the right is a pic sent by Richard, of himself with Victor and Nadeem, somewhere at WB (looks like they're on Blackcomb to me...)

Week 1 Part 3

High Society
(My weeks seem to have slipped a bit)

Jan at the GLC (pic by Richard Moreton)

Saturday 6 March we all decided to have a Bludge Day (Oz-ese for Rest Day). Typically, the weather was glorious! Sun, warm, just perfect. So the Condo wandered into town for lunch and then shopping. More to the point, Tigger was on an obligatory holiday Gift Mission, observed closely by Denis and me.
Beers at Dubhlinn Gate followed, then rendezvous at Buffalo Bills (which had become the default 4pm-ish meeting place every day), then off to a Japanese place for dinner. Hugh Grierson of NZ had joined us today, so now the Condo boasted a good balance: 2 Oz, 2 NZ, One US. He was in fine spirits for someone who'd just done an epic plane trip. This was the night of the first "official" Invasion party, at the Garibaldi Lift Company (oddly-named pub). I forgot my camera! So no incriminating pictures. I was pretty tired (as usual) and don't remember much, but people seemed to have fun, and the GLC provided some free beer. Thanks!

Sunday 7th, off for some skiing.
Here is The Condo Contents, waiting for the bus to Blackcomb.

From left: Tigger, some guy, Rich presenting his best side to the camera, Hugh enjoying the spectacle, and Denis enjoying the spectacle of Hugh enjoying the spectacle.

We spent time at 7th heavan today, which was very good, although visibility was variable. That evening, Boots rang, pretending to be Horvath. (Or Horvath rang, pretending to be Boots). Possibly the worst attempt at a Hungarian accent EVER. Too many vampire moves, Boots.

These two street pix were taken outside Buffalo Bills, being a parade in honour of the international Police Games. Or Commonwealth Police Games. Lots of Police, anyway. In the middle of the big pic are some people in black leather jackets. They are NSW police, and a nasty shock it was to see them in the middle of Whistler! There were bagpipes, too. These fascinated Boots so much, we had to talk him into the pub, using Terry's Talkabouts.

I'm getting ahead of myself here. OK, Monday 8th, it was cold and windy and snowy. More people came to join the Invasion today, namely Terry and Mary Morse. Terry brought some excellent little walkie-talkies called Talkabouts. Craig and Dori Lauxman also came, Purves, some telemark people and verious others (it says "etc" in my diary). When they headed for the Peak Chair, Tigger and I grabbed Talkabouts and piked for the Black and Orange area. It was perfect, trees for visibility, uncrowded runs (Bear Paw was the pick); but before long, we noticed the others skiing here too. The radios came in handy for sledging them from the chaiflift ("That last turn was awful!" "Gwon, yer wimp, do all the bumps"..."huh? where are you?").

Tabi/Skigrrl and Boots were arriving this night, but as usual, I was a wreck (body still playing catch-up, and losing big-time) and so crawled hopefully into bed while the others headed out to intercept the new people at restaurants and barz. While I dozed the fitfull sleep of the jet-lagged and lactic acid-poisoned, people came into the Condo. I didn't care, until giggling was heard from the bedroom doorway, and something enormous lept on top of me and extracted me from my bed. Boots, Goddammit! I was forced to wear a hanky on my head and join a roomful of strangers, it was hell. (Avalanche Dan had printed up Invasion t-shirts and bandanas).
Urrrk/Throckey/Erik appeared at some point too.
I consoled myself with beer, and viewed the strangers with mild interest.

A nice shot from our condo balcony

Boots wonders why all Lemonade isn't Tequila

Tuesday 9 March:
Tabi/Skigrrl had organised a big catered lunch at the Whistler roundhouse. The area reserved for us was under continuous assault from the ravening hordes, looking for tables and seating.

People came out of the woodwork; lurkers, friends and others. It was a great idea and well managed. Must have been a real task, getting money up front from people scattered all over the world!

Right: Throckey's hinted-at but seldom mentioned embarassing personal problem is here on display. Trousers. He cannot keep them done up, or on. Here, they only remain in place because he is sitting down.

Purves can be seen in the background, evidently getting someone to save him a bit of salmon.
Throckey, is can be surmised, has recently consumed the entire salmon, and its friends.

Here's a couple of decorative shots of Boots inverting himself. These reveal the real reason he normally wears a helmet: he has to contain his hair somehow and hasn't yet worked out how to do a bun.

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