Surviving Snowmobiling in Whistler, Canada
- Brooke
- Aug 14, 2021
- 7 min read
I have traveled using a lot of different modes of transportation over the years, but one form of transportation has eluded me - that is, until the winter of 2019, when Ben and I took our first ever snowmobiling adventure.
I had heard snowmobiling was similar to jet skiing, and as a former owner of a jet ski, I felt pretty comfortable making the transition, even if snow and I have not always been the best of friends.
And yet, as I reflect now, I have had many a misadventure on a jet ski, from the time in high school when my friend drove the jet ski into a tree, the two of us tumbling over into a muddy embankment, amazed we neither broke a limb or our necks (and subsequently rescued by a random man we strangely named Alexander Vanderpool because, well, why not?). Or the time my other friend and I got stuck in mud during low tide, thinking some random men abandoned us, but actually went to get help and bring the Coast Guard (Sorry! We appreciate you!). Or the time I ran out of gas just within reach of the dock.
So yeah, even though the idea that snowmobiles compared to jet skis gave me a sense of confidence, I probably should have known better.
It all started off really well. Ben and I met our snowmobiling liaisons of Blackcombe Snowmobile in the lobby of the Hilton Whistler Resort & Spa, along with a number of other customers off on the same journey. We didn't realize at the time, but when they said we would be going off in small groups, we assumed we'd be combined with some of the other folks taking the tour. We were wrong - in the end, we would wind up with our private tour guide, but that was yet to be revealed.
We all headed out to the awaiting buses and were whisked away about a twenty minute drive a bit south of Whistler, towards their home base for our 3 hour Wilderness Adventure.
Once we reached their base we unloaded and were provided the requisite gear of goggles and helmets (you provide all the other appropriate snow gear yourself), and were broken up into groups. It was then that we learned that Ben and I would be off on our own private tour with our own guide, a nice Aussie young man in town for the winter.
We got instructions on how to operate the machines, including how to lean into turns (information that one of us should have listened to more closely), and how we would follow our guide in a single file line up through the mountain. Towards the middle of the trip, we would stop at a little chalet for a quick snack, and occasional scenic stops, but otherwise, our pace would be set by how well we handled the snowmobiles.
Our group was the last to take off, but off we went, each of us on our own machine, heading into some of the most beautiful scenery I have ever seen. Mountain apexes sharp and snow covered, the late afternoon sun providing perfect "golden hour" lighting that is the stuff of photographer dreams.
After a few minutes into the trip, our guide decided the two of us were pretty good at this snowmobiling thing. We took a short break and he offered us a choice - since we seemed to be doing pretty well, would we like to take the more adventurous path? Not quite sure why he felt so confident in our abilities, the two of us decided to take his word for it, and off we went, up a steep hill, into the more advanced path.
At the time, I remember thinking that this is something all guides must say to their guests and that we'd surely run into the other groups. However, as we continued, we never caught sight of anyone else, never mind a whir of a wayward snowmobile motor. It was about an hour into the trip that one of us took our own little detour, or, as they would later tell everyone, they were accosted by a bear.
(I won't name names just yet, but I'll give you a hint - that person is seen on the snowmobile in the picture above, and it wasn't me).
As we were cruising through the wilderness, we began a steep ascent after a somewhat sharp turn. Periodically the guide would turn his head and check to make sure we were both behind him, a sensible idea considering what happened next.
As we continued our ascent, the guide turned around, and I as well, and we both noticed that no one was behind me where Ben should have been. Hmm, I thought, he must be going a bit slowly. The guide and I slowed down, and we kept checking behind us, assuming Ben would be there any moment. But any moment continued to be the next moment, and still no Ben. This is when we stopped, only a minute or two after we noticed Ben was missing (though it felt longer). The guide told me that because we were on a steep hill, he'd escort me to the higher flat ground, and then head down to check on Ben.
So there I was, sitting by my lonesome in the spot shown above, thinking this was a great chance to take some pictures. I was sure that the two of them would turn up quickly, all the while unsure of what had happened to Ben. But as the moments got longer, and the excitement of having a few moments to appreciate the beautiful scenery started to wane, I began to panic more than just a bit. I tried to call Ben - no answer. I texted him to see what he was doing - no reply.
The time began to feel like eternity, and I began to think that if Ben had actually been hurt, how would I ever find out about it? We were well deep into the wilderness and no one else was about - if they had to send for help, that would take a while, and then who would ever inform me, the lone person sitting by herself on a flat part of a hill as the sun was beginning to set for the day? I was buoyed by the idea that other groups would surely pass back through this way (still ignorant to the fact that we were the only group who had taken this route), and they would bring me back, but this only offered the smallest of comforts. In the meantime, my imagination construed all sorts of nightmare scenarios - Ben went careening off a cliff, Ben terribly hurt somewhere, a bear coming out of the wilderness to eat me - and I kept thinking, if I hear the whir of a snowmobile engine and *don't* see Ben behind the guide, I'll know something really terrible happened.
Meanwhile, completely unbeknownst to me, Ben had toppled over on his snowmobile while taking a turn a little too tightly. He tried to right the machine himself with no luck. He figured we would notice right away, and didn't think much of it beyond that, though he told me later that he was surprised it took so long for the guide to come back (mostly because we waited a while for him to catch up, and then to take me to a safe spot). In his tellings of the story, he was in high spirits, admiring the scenery and totally ignorant of the fact that his wife would be having a panic attack at the same time as he would be trying to fix his upside down snowmobile stuck in a snow bank (of which he took no pictures).
Once the guide met him, they struggled to get the machine back on its right side, doing all sorts of maneuvers to get it unstuck. Finally, just as they were about to call in some back up, and send the guide up to me to let me know of the situation, they pulled once last maneuver on the machine, and there it landed, right side up.
Off they jetted, back to meet me, only to find me in a frazzled and panicked state. Thankfully, once I saw the guide and that there was someone behind him, I was immensely relieved. "What happened?" I asked. Ben, still ignorant to all the nightmare scenarios I had been imagining, jokingly responded, "I was attacked by a bear."
He even, apparently, attempted to convince the guide to go along with his story that a bear had jumped out of him, causing him to swerve suddenly and dramatically. Alas, it was Ben's own handling of the snowmobile that caused the accident, and thankfully, everyone was alright.
Now, at this point, I was figuring the guide felt like he had made a mistake thinking the two of us were more deft at driving snowmobiles than we actually were (::ahem:: Ben), but he was not deterred. We both tried to convince Ben to take the middle position, but he demurred, claiming he liked being in the back so he could admire the scenery. Sure.
Off we went, further into the mountain, to a large bowl area where we were invited to ride around in our own formation. We stopped for picture taking and talking story, eventually carrying on to the snack chalet, where sausages, hot chocolate, and other goodies awaited. Then, we continued to an overlook that was incredibly beautiful, accented by the pinks and oranges of another beautiful sunset.
After taking some time to admire the scenery, it was time to head back to the start, then back to Whistler, and back to our hotel. We thanked our guide for his attentiveness, and despite Ben's little misadventure, we had a really fun and amazing time. Both of us were in good spirits, despite my earlier panic attack, and we would both heartily go snowmobiling in the same place with the same company the next time we visited Whistler.
However, I'm hoping we'll both take the turns a little more carefully when we do return. (And by we, I mean Ben).
Snowmobiling in Whistler Details
For our snowmobiling adventure, we used Blackcombe Snowmobile, choosing their 3 hour Wilderness Adventure. Our tour left out of the Hilton Whistler Resort & Spa, taking us on a short-ish bus ride out to Blackcombe's base in the mountains a little south of Whistler itself. Our tour was later in the afternoon, making for some really great lighting - as if the scenery itself needed something extra to make it look even more amazing (spoiler alert - it didn't).
Be sure to wear your own ski/snow gear, and take the turns extra slowly. Otherwise, have fun!
Day of this trip: March 5, 2019
Comments