Whistler Montage
“Just bend your knees a lot!” my brother, Connor, jokingly warned me in case I found myself accidentally skiing off the cliffside atop Whistler Blackcomb Ski Resort in British Columbia, Canada, two winters ago. “I can fly!” I gleefully retorted. In reality, of course, any mortal would fall to their death in that scenario, but when you’re at 8,000 ft elevation soaring ~50mph through the most powder you’ve ever seen in your life, down a mountain pulled straight out of a fairy tale, you would feel just as invincible, believe you me.
My latest short film, Whistler Montage, is an attempt to encapsulate and preserve the joyous adventure of exploring a bucket-list vacation destination with my family in the winter of 2023, which, luckily, we all returned from in one piece. When I rediscovered the footage from my helmet-mounted GoPro, previously thought to be lost forever, I was delighted to feel that same rush again through editing this movie together. If you want to know what it’s like to ski with me and my family, this is about the closest you can get without chasing us through the Canadian wilderness yourself.
Jack, Connor, and Caroline on chairlift
Skiing, to me, ranks among the highest of Earthly pleasures. To have the means to do it is most certainly a luxury that many do not get to enjoy, so it is never lost on me that I am one of the luckiest guys in the world, having grown up with the privilege of learning to ski at the ripe age of three and being granted numerous opportunities to galavant across some of the best and biggest ski resorts in North America, season after season. Whistler, however, is something special in a league of its own— the peak of resort skiing, if you will. It is an unbelievably astonishing array of glacial splendor that extends further than the eye can see. You have to ski it to believe it.
Jack, Zach, and Jim on chairlift
And ski it we did— me, my dad, Connor, his (snowboarder) girlfriend Caroline, and my best friend DJ Zach Alter— while my wonderful mother, a terrific sport, patiently waited for the off-mountain quality time she was promised as we were risking our necks pushing the boundaries of our varying skill levels each day. She used to ski with us all the time when we were kids, but since we men developed an insatiable need for speed, she has wisely hung up the boots, so to speak— and unfortunately for her, a Whistler green is like a New England black diamond, so it is worth repeating, she was a really good sport for coming on this trip.
Like any loving, dysfunctional family, we may have a history of sometimes not always getting along, but on top of the mountain, all petty grievances seem to melt away. There is no greater bonding experience than navigating through seemingly endless moguls together in a snowstorm so thick you can’t see 15 ft in front of you. There is nothing more grounding for the soul and simultaneously adrenaline-inducing than riding the chairlift and then plummeting downhill as fast as gravity will take you. We came, we saw, we conquered. I will remember this ski trip forever, but the question remains: What’s next?
Young Fam at Whistler Blackcomb Summit
