The Great Outdoors - Day 3

Touring the sights of Jasper town takes about 15 minutes at a push (the Marmot Basin ski area situated 19-km away notwithstanding) - with this completed our merry band left the hotel and began driving south through Jasper National Park towards Banff for our best sightseeing day of the trip.

The scenery along the highways we'd seen so far was beautiful enough, but withing the National Park boundaries it reaches a whole new level. Pictured below is Medicine Lake, which is so called because the aboriginal people's believed the draining away of the lake's waters every summer was due to 'big medicine', or magic. The way in which the jagged rock give way to the cool, soft edges of the frozen remainders of the lake is singularly beautiful.

A little way further off the highway was Malinge Lake, notably different for its being rung by thick everygreen forests. Perhaps it was the skier in me but I couldn't help thinking "I could really rip some turns through these" as we walked along their edges.

Next stop was Athabasca Falls, smaller in scale than Helmcken seen the previous day, but with a far more complex arrangement of eroded rocks. The interplay between frozen water, the running stream and the smoothed rocks, almost organic in their shape and formation, was unlike anything any of us had seen before.

The Great Outdoors - Day 2

After a surpisingly good night's sleep in the questionable little town of Clearwater, B.C., we left early in the morning with the prospect of a long drive ahead. Any gripes about our having to resort to staying in a motel where the reception smelled of day-old fish were soon forgotten as we stopped off at Helmcken Falls, about halfway beetween Clearwater and Jasper. The stunning waterfall below was our reward.

The frozen cone visible at the base of the falls is apparently present right the way up until summer, when it eventually thaws - the sound of the torrent of water crashing down into its centre was almost deafening.

That evening we arrived in Jasper, another oddly quiet town, and checked into a proper hotel this time, still revelling in the spectacular natual scenery we'd witnessed so far.

The Great Outdoors - Day 1

Well after dark on Monday night, after a few thousand miles of driving, lots of food (mostly good, some laughably poor), just as much wine, the odd beer and, most importantly, rafts of incredibly spectacular scenery, 4 weary road-trippers returned to Whistler.

The journey began with the picturesque drive out of Whistler village, through Pemberton and a number of other small towns on the way -with the passing of each town, and the slipping further and further way from our amenity-laden resort existence, the landscape grew more and more rugged, nature's contours no longer subject to the designs of man, but instead man's designs forced to fit in around the mountains, rocks and streams.

The term 'breath-taking' doesn't come into it. Less than an hour out of Whistler we came across the first of many beautiful lakes, surrounded by stunning snow-dusted mountains.

The In-Laws have landed

This week my shoes will be metaphorically shined and I shall be on my best behaviour while my girlfriend's parents are in town. They don't share anything like my enthusiasm for spending day after day on the mountain; instead we'll be embarking on a good old-fashioned road trip into the Canadian wilderness, taking in a couple of national parks and shedloads of spectacular scenery along the way. Photo-laden updates soon.

Happy Easter

Happy Easter one and all, from everyone at Jimmy's Desk Towers. And remember, chocolate is good for you - particularly in egg form.

Our last Fresh Tracks of the season

As if in answer to our prayers, snow has been falling pretty consistently over last few days and in light of this I decided I was perfectly justified in getting up at the crack of dawn 2 days running. Each morning, for the princely sum of $18 or so, your plucky skier or snowboarder can enjoy Fresh Tracks, which consists of uploading at the Whistler Village gondola a good hour before anyone else and, just as importantly, a dirty great buffet breakfast (which with the aid of Tuppaware can very easily turn into lunch and afternoon tea). This also gives you the first crack at the mountain, and is best enjoyed on a powder day.

The early morning upload affords some beautiful views of the valley and Blackcomb mountain, bathed in the singular light of the recent dawn.

We're really going to miss this place when we're gone.

Things that ail me

Skiing can be tough; skiing for a whole season is tougher. Here's a list of the niggling little things which currently afflict me:

- Sore knees
- A blister on the top of my left foot
- A bad right shoulder

- A pulled right glute muscle
- Painful left upper wisdom tooth (nothing to do with skiing but annoying nonetheless)

All sympathy gratefully received.

Pay day

Finally, after the indignity of spending a good 3 or so days without a Canadian dollar to my name, I have been paid, and am once again flush. Praise the Lord.

Enter the backcountry

It occured to me a few days ago that, for all the time I've spent on the mountains here in Whistler, with something like 6 weeks until the end of the season there's still plenty of this colossal ski area that I've left untouched. How convenient, then, that a colleague suggested we go on a rather large hike on our mutual day off, following a full 24 hours of solid snowfall. I admit to being a touch apprehensive as I've never explored the backcountry terrain before - my previous exploits have been firmly within the limits of the patrolled ski area, as walking a slope to ski down the other side, then walking back up it again seems like a lot of hard work.

In hindsight, I have no regrets - my first entry into Whistler's backcountry was quite simply epic, and the hard work was more than worth the rewards. At the end of our first stint, the views on offer were just breathtaking, and all the more so for being so utterly untouched by civilisation.

Later on the day this was what lay before us - a huge, cloud-like field of fluffy, unblemished snow, encircled by jagged peaks and ridges.

This last picture I include to prove I was actually there - my riding companions are Jack (in the middle) and Aron (to his left), with Sam behind the camera framing the shot beautifully. My thanks to all three for such a good day - and tolerating my whining about my legs hurting so much from all the hiking.

Bursting The Bubble (part 2) - Our 3rd anniversary in Seattle

On Wednesday I set foot on American soil for the first time since somewhere in the mid-1990s - a time when I sported a rather unflattering bowl-cut hairstyle and, when not in my school uniform, wore Global Hypercolour t-shirts and stonewash denim. Our lodging, the Ace in Belltown, was just the sort of hip hostel I'd been hankering after having spent countless nights in uncomfortable beds and under flaking ceilings over the years.

Our busy work schedule in Whistler meant we had only allowed ourselves 48 hours in the city: we embarked on a whistlestop tour of the sights, starting with at Experience Music Project, which was very hands-on, and the Science Fiction Museum, which wasn't. My hightlight was the display devoted to a pair of Jimi Hendrix's favourite guitars - unfortunately the extent of his presence in the Project, but for that short time at least I was rapt. Thanks to Microsoft co-founder Steve Allen for the abundance of memorabilia in each collection, and thanks to my girlfriend Anna for providing a steady drum beat while I jammed on the Fender guitars. Both attractions are housed in a fabulous Frank Gehry-designed building, featuring his trademark style, echoing the Guggenheim's iconic shape but infused with much more shimmering colour.

Seattle is a quirky city - walk along any given street in the centre and there will always be some curio or other to stop you and make you to ponder how such an oddity came to be so positioned. Below are just a few examples.

We reached the peak of the Space Needle at around a half-hour before sunset, and were in awe of the beautiful view of the illuminated bay:

So much to see in so little time. Things we will do when we next visit Seattle in May:

1. Eat at the revolving restaurant at the top of the Space Needle
2. Take a picture of the Seattle skyline to emulate the sillhouette from the opening credits of Frasier.
3. Figure out how to use my camera properly and take better pictures at night-time.
4. Try a lot more of the local beer.

Success, at the first time of asking

I write this quite literally delighted, all my frustration at malfunctioning internet streaming sites and endlessly having to click the refresh button having long since disappeared, as Spurs have just claimed their first piece of silverware under Juande Ramos, ending a drought of some 9 years. Whats more, Ramos (the cunning Spanish fox that he is) still hasn't lost a cup final as a club manager. It doesn't matter that Chelsea's team cost countless more millions than ours, it doesn't matter they all get paid the equivalent of a small third-world country's debt each week, it doesn't matter that the winning goal bounced in off Woodgate's face - we won. they lost, that's it.I'm sure I echo all Tottenham fans when I say that I hope, pray even, that this is only the start under Ramos. He's not the first manager of recent times to share the fans' ambition, but he does appear to be the first with the know-how, motivational skills and credentials to propell the club into the big-time. Spurs have been talked-up for the last few seasons now, but finally am I beginning to actually believe the hype.I think fans' favourite Robbie Keane summed it up pretty well: "Hopefully this is start of something special, hopefully we can kick on now. This was a massive test for us and a dream come true to come out as winners."

Nice to know the players and the fans are on the same page.

Où est la neige?

For around a week now no snow has fallen on Whistler. For those of us who will take driving precipitation, zero visibility and gale force winds so long as it means there's a few inches of powder under our skis (ie: me), the last week has had everyone doing snow dances. However, for those of us who like sun and sunbathing (ie: my girlfriend) it's been just heavenly.

The place has rarely looked so beautiful, and we are duly reminded just how lucky we are to be here to enjoy it.

Bursting The Bubble (part 1) - Vancouver on Valentine's Day

For all the dismissive remarks we may make about it being a cynical marketing ploy devised by unscrupulous greetings card companies, Valentine's Day usually brings out the more romantic side in people - my girlfriend and I are no different. W e spent the day in Vancouver, touring the city that was so disappointingly rain-sodden when we last visited in November. What's more, among Whistler seasonnaires a consistent part of the culture is the concept of 'bursting the bubble' and leaving the sometimes confined-feeling village to breathe in some strange air for a few days, if only to renew your enthusiasm upon returning.

It appears we didn't take that many photos, clearly too loved-up to be overly concerned with expanding our amateur photography portfolio. For posterity's sake, here are our efforts:

Vancouver is a rather grey city for most of the year.

A really big wheel. Or, a cog, as I later found out, that has been positioned hence to commemorate the opening of the bridge over to Granville Island. I think. I wasn't really paying attention, being more concerned with posing inside of it like the geeky foreign exchange students that have their pictures taken while perched atop the lions at the base of Nelson's Column in London.

The happy couple, enjoying their day.

Camden's burning

I was really saddended to read about the fire which this weekend engulfed parts of Camden Market - an area of London that's simply one of my favourite places to spend time anywhere in the world, and holds some special memories for me of the summer after my GCSEs and beyond. Now a wrinkly old man of 22, I still love to wander about Stables Market, the High Road and all the idiosyncratic little nooks and crannies which make the place what it was - totally unique.

To hear that a significant portion of it has been destroyed really struck a chord in me. I found myself actually nervous of returning to find it not the same place, and that it would feel very different - my connection of the memories of that halcyon summer of 2001 (not to mention counteless times since) would be weakened. Rationally-speaking, this is probably not the case as it's a fairly expansive old place and only 1 relatively small area has been affected, but one of the first things I felt like doing is making the short trip on the Tube to the station where the two branches of the Northern Line converge and surveying for myself exactly what has changed. My frustration at being thousands of miles and several months away from doing this is palpable.

It's odd that this event has made me feel both closer to and at the same time further away from home.

To the read the BBC news stories on the Camden fire, click here.

Whistler lingo (#1 in an occasional series)

It's remarkable how you can become a product of your environment, almost without realising - and speech is just one aspect of how the people you spend time with can have an effect on you. Recently it occured to me that since I moved to Whistler (with its blend of Canadian, British and Australian influences) I've found a whole new set of phrases creeping into my speech, most of which relate to the more enjoyable things in life, like partying, being happy, and snowsport accidents. Here are some of my favourites to be heard around Whistler:

Stoked (adj.) - well-known, this one. Translated as 'very happy' or, depending on which part of England you come from, 'made-up' or 'chuffed'. Implies a general sense of satisfaction with life and the world.

Superman (noun) - when a skier double-ejects from their bindings in such a way and in such a direction as to result in said skier flying through the air, head-first, like Superman. Often accompanied by squeals of fear and an inevitable thud, but not (usually) by lycra underwear worn over trousers. Found most amusing by snowboarders, for whom binding-ejection is much more of a rarity.

Yard sale (noun) - employing more visual imagery, this term refers to a collision or fall which results in the poor skier spreadeagled on the snow, with both skis and both poles (and perhaps even goggles, hat, gloves, sunnies, etc.) scattered all over the place, looking like it would if they were holding a yard sale. I had a pretty special one today, in full view of a beginner's lesson. If it didn't put them off skiing for life then they'll be alright.

Eat shit (verb) - not as nasty as it sounds, or much worse depending on your point of view. Quite simply, when you fall forward and get a face full of snow.

Face plant (verb) - similar to the above term, but more specifically when someone falls off a ledge, rail, box or other such raised level, face first, without any other part of their body or equipment hitting the deck first. An extremely painful maneouvere when performed on hard packed snow, you can imagine.

Pow (noun) - soft, powder snow - usually freshly-fallen and more or less untracked. Can be doubled up to form the much more risable 'pow-pow', as in "dude let's go get gnar-gnar in the pow-pow!", whatever that means.

Hooned (verb) - strictly-speaking, this one was already in my vocabulary but it is a term meaning 'to go very fast' and can well be applied to skiing down a groomed run or through a tree run so quickly that the skin on your cheeks is yanked back and turned a funny shade of pink, and as such I've found myself using it more and more often.

Spill (noun) - a fall, or when you hoon down somewhere and then hit moguls or a big patch of powder.

More soon.

The Great Whistler Pancake Toss

This Shrove Tuesday evening, a small gathering of a few Brits, mainly Aussies and even a couple of Frenchman (well, 1 man and 1 lady) united over their collective love of pancakes. Below, tout les accoutrements:

Our main aim was to steer clear of the ubiquitous doorstop-thick Canadian pancakes and go for something a little more crepe-esque. Our French guests contended that our home-made versions were a little thicker than French pancakes, and so were somewhere between the two. After much debate (and posing for the camera)...


...the issue was settled. These new hybridised battered goodies would be known as: 'Quebec' (or, French-Canadian) Pancakes.

Sorted.

Skiing, on a retro tip

A few days ago my colleagues and I participated in our staff Retro Ski Day. You literally couldn't move for one-peice suits and day-glo headbands. It was very special. Here are some highlights.

First, an action shot before any drinking took place. Note the authenticity of us having ridden to work in a retro vehicle to match our old-skool attire (the van in question being a rather sweet, rather shagged-out old Chevy, complete with lack of seatbelts and wood panelling inside).

Decidedly more intoxicated this time - after a few, we thought it would be a good idea to leave the comfort of the mountain-top bar to climb up Inukshuk (a local aboriginal landmark) and have our photo taken with the old chap. So that's what we did.

We are so cool it hurts.

Tottenham 5 - 1 Arsenal

Juande Ramos - my new hero.

Look at him. Isn't he lovely?

Death from above...

Skiing is, under normal circumstances, a risky business. But quite aside from having to dodge snowboarders trying to ride into your bindings and beginners weaving their unpredictable way in front of you, it seems there is yet another threat to your safety, coming from a most unexepected angle. The other day while skiing under a chairlift, around 20 metres from the line of the lift, a ski fell out of the sky and crashed down in the snow in front of me, following by what, on closer inspection, I found to be the front end of someone's ski boot. I stopped by said ski, and then looked skywards to see a 4 people turned backwards on the chair looking aghast. I did the decent thing, and dropped it off at the lift station. before going on my way. Had I have taken a different route under the chair, it could have been nasty.

Come over to the dark side

Ever since I can remember I've been a devout skiier, pious and unflinching to the last in my devotion to the dual-planked method of getting down a snowy hill fast. I attribute this to a childhood spent on skis and my parent's oft-espoused opinion that snowboarders were hooligans whose trousers didn't fit them.

Then, the other week, something in me changed. My ideas about the superiority of skiing over boarding ebbed away into the mist (or, perhaps, the pow?) and I knew deep inside that the time was right. And so this afternoon, under the tutelage of my good buddy Fin, I shackled my feet (oddly sheathed in a soft boot rather than something made of rigid plastic) on to a single piece of downhill equipment rather than the usual pair.

After a mere 2 1/2 hours I was already almost linking my turns, and was extremely encouraged to say the least. The dark side beckons.

Hello Mister Blue Sky

Today was the third straight clear (very nearly 'blue-sky') day here in Whistler, and with it the longest spell of good weather since we arrived. Unfortunately I haven’t been able to enjoy it properly until today but, oh boy, enjoy it I did. Above a certain altitude there was unlimited visiblity and the a shining sun – see the pictures below for evidence. Doubtless it’ll be overcast and miserable within a few days but in the meantime it’s been less like skiing in the mountains and more like being on a summer holiday.

And here's an awesome shot of a local landmark known as "Black Tusk", for reasons which I hope should be glaringly obvious.

Sweet air

Today I went riding with a pair of mates from work, and it ended up being a fairly momentous day - it marked the first time I've ever taken a jump on skis, properly, without getting an arse/face-full of snow. I loved it, I must confess. The venue was Blackcomb mountain's Terrain Garden (a terrain park for beginners), which was right up my street. The next time I'm on the hill I shall be attempting a rail, and will report back (with pictures of stonking great purple bruises, no doubt).

Live the dream.

Happy New Year

Happy New Year to you all; may your hangover be mellow and your general sense of well-being be regained by dinner time.

Best wishes for 2008.

Merry Christmas

Jimmy (and his desk) wish you and yours a very Merry Christmas.

Have a nice day!!!

Essentially, my new job consists of being really, reeeaaally nice to people. On Wednesday I sat through 4 hours of corporate orientation, which was effectively one long lecture about how the company wants you to be outgoing, helpful and just generally gosh-darn friendly with everyone.

I don't have a problem with people. I like people. And common sense tells me people enjoying great snow, great food and even better beer in the world's best ski resort should stand even less chance than usual of getting on my tits. As much as the orientation flew by, and was actually surprisingly engaging, all the acronyms and talk of "creating memories" caught me a little off-guard.

On reflection, I think it's because I'm British. Back at home, the words "service culture" register with your average shop assistant or bartender about as much as the words "Hershey" or "line of scrimmage" - that is, not at all. British service is seldom about anything other than surliness, whereas in Canada (and I speak only for this most northern of countries, as we dont venture south of the border until May) the people in the shops are encouraged to be genuinely nice to you. And not in a high-street-branch-of-Gap, "Hi can I help you?", forced-smile-and-unconvincing-tone-of-voice kind of a way. Get this guys - they dont care any more or any less than you want to believe they do, but in a country where even the middle-aged blokes who drive the buses and the twenty-something ones who scan your lift passes are disarmingly friendly with you more often than not, you start believing.

I'm sure the first few days or smiling and asking perfect strangers how they are (starting at 7:45am tommorow) will be exhausting, but I'm very open to the idea that it will, in time, make me a better person.

Christmas cheer (and other additions to our digs)

Tis the season, after all, so yesterday Anna and I ventured to a faraway little corner of Whistler called Function Junction (which is known by a number of other names, the most memorable of which is 'Erection Section' - but that's quite enough of that) and paid a visit to the Re-Use It Centre, a kind of thrift store on steriods. After trawling thoughts quite literally lots of stuff, we happened across some splendid coloured lights and a rather spiffing wreath.

But our pride and joy and the fruit of my lady's creative flair is our 'Christmas Table':

Finally, after hearing they were selling a whole batch off cheap, I bought this telly from a hotel in the village.


We are now officially settled in.

Oh how I laughed.

Today was an amusing day for two reasons:

1. On leaving a bar this lunchtime (I had a hot chocolate) I was approach by a Canadian snowboarder who asked me if I knew where he could get any weed. Except that wasn't how he put it - the phrase he used was "Dude, you know where I can snag some doesh?" (spelling, anyone?). I was a little taken aback and had to ask him to repeat himself, before issuing a very English "No, sorry I've no idea mate" and heading for the lift.
   

2. My moustache froze as I skiied down the last couple of runs. Crunchy.