The Mountains Get Massacred by Travelers and the Weather

My sub-school, Prince of Wales Mini, takes its 150 students—thirty in each grade—annually for a Wednesday to Friday overnight trip to Whistler Blackcomb. Having gone for five years now, I have come to understand how long I should expect to wait in the lineup for the chairlift, which is of course, not very long (usually under a minute) because the mountian is so big and the lifts move so fast. For Wednesday and Thursday, January 13th and 14th, 2010, this seemed like just another year at Blackcomb. It was icy like 2009, but quite a bit foggier and much less sunny. But then forty-seven centimetres (almost nineteen inches) hit overnight and the mountains were ambushed by those hoping to extend their weekends by cashing in on some snow sporting extravaganza. Unfortunately, Friday the 15th turned out to be the rainiest day in my five years and half of Black and all of Whistler was shut down for at least the morning. The lineups were horrendously long; for the first time, I really felt the presence of the Olympic Games—well, kind of, seeing as we were allowed to bypass them as part of "Ski School".