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AT RANDOM: A notch on the ski pole

Whistler-Blackcomb has changed a lot since the days Kristin Froneman used to visit the resort in the early-’90s.

It was more than 20 years in the making, but I finally got to ski down the two mountains at one of the most famous resorts in this province, make that country.

Whistler-Blackcomb has changed a lot since the days I used to visit the resort in the early-’90s.

The problem is, I didn’t ski back then. I had downhilled in Ontario, but the icy molehills out east had turned me off the sport.

I originally went to Whistler to visit my sister, who was living there and working as a liftie. Actually, she had three jobs and was staying in a house with about eight guys in Creekside Village just to afford the rent.

That number would increase to about 20 on the weekend. There was always someone looking for a place to crash.

I only started skiing again eight years ago, after some training on the green and blue runs at Silver Star. I thought I was ready for Whistler, and for the most part, I was. Both mountains, including Blackcomb, with its additional 1,240 vertical metres, have an immense amount of skiable terrain for all levels.

And you can ski until the end of May, or if you’re a backcountry skier, even longer on the glacier.

The Peak 2 Peak gondola, which takes you from one mountain to the other, is a stomach rolling experience, as the gondola hangs 436 metres above Fitzwilliam Creek at its highest point, but the 360 view is unsurpassed.

But what was most awe striking about Whistler was what had changed.

Thirty years earlier, before I was born, my parents used to visit Whistler frequently.

My dad was a pharmaceutical salesman in those days and had settled with my mom in North Vancouver. Every weekend they would head up to the then one-horse town with other ski enthusiasts to the newly developed resort that was then owned by Garibaldi Lifts.

They would grab the four-seat lift at Creekside to what was before called London Mountain, re-named Whistler after the local alpine marmot, who “whistles” when it communicates.

The cabin they rented on Alta Lake, the Flaming A, was notorious. Numerous wild parties took place there and my mom says ski bums would often arrive at the cabin and forage for leftovers in the kitchen.

The Flaming A is long gone now, along with many of those old cabins along the lake.

They have been replaced by million(s) dollar homes.

Three golf courses now lie between Green, Alta and Lost Lakes, flanked by these monster mountain homes.

The residuals of the 2010 Winter Olympics are also apparent. There’s the new plaza/skating rink at Olympic Village, which has a fabulous play park for the kids. Then there are the new visitors speaking just about every language under the sun taking their selfies with the Olympic rings.

Whistler Village has become a twisting stroll of shops, restaurants and bars teeming with wildlife. And the just opened Audain Art Museum shows what investment in the arts can result.

However, some things haven’t changed. The workers from Australia, Quebec, and other corners of the world are still cramming into small units or sharing 20 to a home, working minimal wage jobs.

The Whistler Housing Authority has been trying to solve this problem by providing affordable rental and ownership housing, but the demand is high.

For now, Whistler remains an untouchable place that I will never afford to live in, but I can add it as a notch on my ski pole.

Kristin Froneman is the arts-entertainment editor for The Morning Star.