“Born at the instant
The church bells chime
And the whole world whispering
Born at the right time.”
– Paul Simon
Every morning. Again, later in the day. All winter long. There’s a small rush hour in my neighbourhood.
“Is it time to end helicopter skiing?”
The headline in last Friday’s Globe and Mail jumped out at me. No, I thought. Not until sometime next month. But that wasn’t the question being asked by outdoor writer Matt Coté. Not the end time this season. The end time forever.
Heliskiing was birthed in this province. There are more heliski operators in B.C. than anywhere else in the world. A quick look at a topo map of the province answers the “why here?” question.
But this ain’t the 1960s anymore. It’s not the time Hans Gmoser created the ultimate ski experience. Ultimate at least for those who don’t drop near-vertical powder chutes in Alaska. This time isn’t the right time.
The ’60s were the right time. Gas was 30 cents a gallon. Imperial or U.S., didn’t matter which. The number of people in the world thinking about the environmental impact of burning gasoline at that time could probably fit in a Bell 212 helicopter. Like the ones Canadian Mountain Holidays (CMH), Hans’ creation, flies.
It was a crazy idea born out of his intense love of the mountains. Climbing, skiing, just sitting and looking at the damn things.
Hans was evangelical about mountains. Like true evangelicals, he proselytized. He travelled around the world preaching the gospel of mountains. He knew where God lived.
People coming back from heliskiing have a certain look in their eyes. Especially after their first trip. Bliss. Awe. Inspiration. They left home normal, if hardcore, skiers. They returned helivangelists. They saw the light. Glimpsed heaven.
They still do. But should they also have a look in their eyes that says guilty? They’ve just blown up their carbon footprint to the size of Andorra. Chances are good they flew in a jet—commercial or private—to get close. Travelled in a bus or car the rest of the way. Helied in to the lodge. Spent their week flying every day, weather permitting. Ate like kings and queens. Food flown in as well. Warm lodges, hot tubs, hot showers. Mostly in places off the grid, fuelled by generators.
So Mr. Coté posed the question. Is it time to end helicopter skiing?
He asked Northern Escape Heli Skiing, in Terrace. The company estimates each heliskier racks up 0.62 tonnes of greenhouse gas each day. I have no idea how much that is. But, as the article states, the world’s G20 countries have to reduce GHGs to 4.5 tonnes per person, per year to meet global warming targets.
Seven and one-quarter days of heliskiing at Northern.
CMH manages a bit better. 0.39 tonnes per skier per day. Eleven and one-half days.
Northern says they’re carbon-neutral. Because they purchase carbon offsets. CMH provides skiers with the estimate of their carbon footprint. So they can buy offsets. If they choose.
Someone once said carbon offsets are like a fat person eating pie and paying someone else to diet for them. CMH’s director of sustainability acknowledges the company is “part of the problem.” The problem being climate change. The change that threatens to turn heliskiing into helisurfing.
Just to be clear, this isn’t an indictment of heliskiing. Nor Northern. Nor CMH.
I’ve been afforded the opportunity to heliski. More than once. I’ve taken every opportunity offered. I’ve written glowingly about heliskiing. I’ve been a helivangelist. Probably still am. The best ski experiences I’ve ever had started by exiting one of CMH’s Bell 212s. Thanks.
This isn’t an indictment of other pastimes that frivolously burn gas. Not an indictment of snowmobiles or the big trucks carrying them. The ones who create those small rush hours in my neighbourhood. Every morning. Later in the day. At the Chevron station in Rainbow where they fill up their trucks and sleds and extra gas containers. Not an indictment even though I hate snowmobiles. Just a personal thing.
It’s not an indictment of the North American addiction to pickup trucks and SUVs. They piss me off because the small wagons I prefer are disappearing like snow in a warmer climate. But that’s just a corporate decision to cater to a regional market. Lots of them left in Europe.
It’s not an indictment of the people who believe they need 10,000-square-foot vacation homes they inhabit once or twice a year when the fly into Vancouver and drive their rental SUV up to Whistler. I’m sure they recycle. Something. Or have people who do. For them.
I’m an ardent opponent of the death penalty. Partly because it’s barbaric. Mostly because it’s a profound failure on the part of “enlightened” governments. It just proves the validity of murderers’ logic. Some problems are just too big to be solved except by killing someone.
I also oppose it because it’s a slippery slope. If I can justify killing someone for killing someone else, where does it end? I often feel like killing someone for failing to use their turn signals. Better not to go there.
It’s not an indictment of all those things and more because of that slippery slope. If I can justify banning heliskiing, sleds, big trucks, SUVs, monster homes... it’s just a short leap of logic to banning Whistler.
Our happy mountain home is a poster child for frivolous, climate-destroying consumption. Whistler’s population is about 14,000 people. While we may be doing our individual part, one way or another, to further or fight climate change, we’re irrelevant. Except for the fact we’re the grease in the wheels of Whistler’s total contribution to those nasty GHGs.
The ones generated by the millions of visitors who fly and drive here every year. They fly and drive here to have a good time. A good time that is fuelled by, well, fuel. Fuel burned by the endless parade of commercial trucks heading north every morning on the Sea to Sky highway carrying the food they’ll eat, the liquor they’ll drink and the souvenirs they’ll buy. Fuel burned by the workerbees who make their beds, cook their food, serve their liquor and sell their souvenirs. Fuel burned by the snowmobiles and quads and sightseeing planes and other attractions they’ll enjoy to make the most of their visit.
If there’s a saving grace in this it’s BC Hydro. It’s the 97 per cent of electricity generated from renewable resources. Which is a bit like the saving grace of a last cigarette before the firing squad gets on with their task.
As Paul said, born at the right time. Wish I could say the same for my grandchildren.
