After seven-and-a-half years in Whistler, I finally got the call.
It was my landlord, letting me know he’s selling.
The housing crisis I’ve been writing about officially caught up with me.
It was a blow, but I can’t be anything but grateful. After an initial summer renting a room from a family in Emerald, followed by a few weeks of couch hopping, somehow I won the Whistler housing lottery: not only have I avoided the stress of having to find a new place and new roommates every time the season turns, but my cosy studio apartment came with a generous landlord who never hit me with a single rent increase, despite offering a pretty decent deal for my own spot even by 2016 standards.
I started cruising through the limited, significantly pricier options posted to Craigslist and Facebook groups this summer, and reaching out to friends who were already deep into the housing hunt themselves. In the end, that phone call pushed me to stop ignoring a nagging feeling I’ve kept shoving to the back of my mind: the thought that maybe, it’s time for a change.
In case you haven’t already heard, this is my last issue with Pique before I head back east.
I’m leaving as an entirely different person than the wide-eyed 22-year-old who rolled into town. Even if I came for a job instead of a ski season, I’m no different than every other local who stayed for years longer than they anticipated. I blame Alyssa Noel; she was the editor of the Whistler Question who hired me as a news and sports reporter in spring 2016, with only a journalism degree and a couple of internships on my resume at the time.
Pique’s publisher Sarah Strother and former editor Clare Ogilvie can also shoulder some responsibility—they fought to keep me onboard after the Question published its last issue in January 2018—as can my long-term newsroom buddies Brandon Barrett and Braden Dupuis. They’ve been patient and supportive from Day 1, always sharing nuggets of wisdom and graciously sparing me from the hilariously inappropriate insults they hurl at each other, even when I mix up their names.
Everyone I’ve worked with at Pique and Glacier Media over the years has helped me grow so much, and contributed to building a workplace that’s so tough to leave. It has been the privilege of a lifetime to tell this community’s stories—I hope I’ve done them justice.
The last few sentences aside, I really am trying not to be dramatic about leaving, mostly because there’s a high chance I’ll come crawling back. Still, it does feel like the end of some kind of an era, so indulge me while I share a few pieces of advice for any newcomers in the same position I was in back in May 2016: arriving in town with a grand total of zero friends, and plans to stay for a season, maybe a year, but definitely two maximum.
Get on the Whistler Housing Authority waitlist ASAP, if only to keep your options open down the road.
Read Pique. Beyond the value of staying updated about what’s happening around town, Whistler is wildly lucky to have the quality of journalism it does, for free. This team wins awards for a reason—they put their heart and soul into what they do.
Push past your comfort zone. Try the new sport, join the club, take the avalanche course. Two of the best choices I made were registering for Women’s Night in the Bike Park after several summers insisting biking just wasn’t for me, and joining the Whistler Women’s Hockey League my first winter here (specifically, the best team in the league, the Bees), even though I assumed my playing days were long over. Aside from having a blast—and winning a couple of championships in the process—I met so many rad people I wouldn’t have crossed paths with otherwise.
Find a side hustle. Personally, I suggest hospitality. Again, I thought I was done with serving forever after university, but proximity to my Creekside apartment and the prospect of a free ski pass led me to Dusty’s in 2016. I ended up staying until COVID hit. Sure, the tips helped pad out my bank account, but more importantly, it’s where I met so many of the best friends I’ve ever had.
I could write a book with all the reasons I’m grateful for my years in Whistler, but I’m already well over my word limit. If you’re reading this, you probably already know what makes this corner of the world so incredibly special anyways.
There’s nowhere I’d rather call home. But spending more time with family, growing my career, and maybe even finding a place with a bedroom door and in-unit laundry doesn’t sound so bad, at least for a little while.
This might be goodbye for now, but hopefully you’ll still see my name in Pique’s pages from time to time or catch me on the mountain at some point, so I’m choosing to say “see you soon” instead. Thanks for everything, Whistler.
