If you were asked to name Whistler’s first ski lift, you would be likely to answer the original Creekside Gondola, one of the t-bars, or the original two-person Red Chair.
You would also be wrong.
No, that distinction goes to a modest little rope tow, installed by the enterprising Alta Lake pioneer Dick Fairhurst in 1960, almost 6 years before Whistler Mountain opened for business. The rope tow ran under the power lines behind Fairhurst’s Cypress Lodge on the west shore of Alta Lake (later used as a hostel and today home to The Point Artist-Run Centre). The rope tow ran for more than 800 feet. Powered by an old Ford V8 motor, it could pull four skiers up at a time.
Aside from the wonderful footage of the ski lift and skiers (though snow conditions appear to be sub-par), you also see a little Snow-cat machine that belonged to Dick. Dick was enamoured by snow machines of all sorts and would later become a dealer for Bombardier snowmobiles. He was also a founding member of the Black Tusk Snowmobile Club which still exists today, operating a club cabin on Brohm Ridge near Mount Garibaldi.
Skiers enjoying a day on Dick Fairhurst’s slopes, early 1960s.
It may not be the Peak-to-Peak Gondola, but this humble little ski lift lays claim to a very special and under-appreciated honour as the first lift in the Whistler Valley. We’re extremely fortunate to have this short clip, another gem from the Petersen Family home video archive. Enjoy!
This year I spent thanksgiving with a group of new friends. As tradition goes, we went around the table and said what we were thankful for. This has got to be one of the most beautiful holiday rituals, as the room generally goes from silly and sarcastic to completely genuine as soon as the first person says their thanks. This sincerity and gratefulness got me thinking about Whistler’s early days when there was a bit less to be thankful for in terms of amenities–more specifically, regarding Whistler’s water supply and sanitation facilities.
Whistler’s early settlers had to locate their homes near rivers, creeks or lakes in order to have access to water. Rainbow Lodge and Hillcrest Lodge had holding tanks of water pumped from Rainbow Creek and Alta Lake, respectively; however, most properties weren’t so fortunate. Some residents used flumes to direct water from the source to their property, though this method was quite unreliable.
Betsy DeBeck recalls her and her father constructing a flume for her brother and sister in-law, Denis and Dorothy DeBeck. Denis and Dorothy had recently built a house on the shores of Green Lake, and Betsy and her father figured they could ‘help’ the new homeowners by providing a more convenient water supply system. The two got to work, building a V flume that reached approximately 100 yards up the slope from Green Lake, right into Denis and Dorothy’s backyard. This would prevent them from having to go down the stream to retrieve buckets of water. While great in theory, during the winter months the flume and all the water in it froze and they were left with this ‘huge big iceberg,’ as Dorothy describes. Dorothy quickly grew to curse the flume.
By 1925, the town installed a water line from Scotia Creek in order to service new subdivisions on the west shore of Alta Lake. It operated on the gravitation principle, by which water flows downward from a large wooden holding tank built up on a hill. In 1954, Dick Fairhurst of Cypress Lodge received the rights to Scotia Creek and took over the system.
Along the railway line at the main stations, public outhouses were build for passengers’ convenience. Someone with a sense of humour added the sign.
Early sanitation systems were nothing to write home about either (because people write home about their plumbing all the time). Whistler’s early sanitation systems consisted of outhouses and, in later years, septic tanks. Surprisingly, the outhouses were considered quite the establishments and are remembered fondly by many of the first skiers to live in the valley.
Jean McDevitt in front of Petersen’s old outhouse, 1968.
These outhouses brought many tales of hilarity. One in particular is the sizzling story of Charlie Chandler. Charlie Chandler, a local trapper, had been given a small amount of high-grade aircraft fuel by a kindly visiting floatplane pilot, which he used to clean some of his exceedingly grimy overalls. When finished cleaning his clothes, Charlie felt that the best way to dispose of the remaining fuel was to chuck it down the ‘biffy.’ He went on with his day as usual, and when it came time for his next visit to the outhouse he sat down and lit his pipe, as was his habit. The explosion was heard from miles away. Charlie’s nearest neighbour, Phil Tapley, rushed to the scene where he found a singed but otherwise unscathed Charlie with his pants around his ankles, wondering what had occurred.
Whether used to access fresh ski lines, or simply for “rooping” in the snow, snowmobiles are a way of life for many Whistlerites. While 4x4s hauling sleds are ubiquitous come winter, few realize just how deep Whistler’s snow machine roots go.
While browsing through old issues of Ski Tracks, a Lower Mainland ski newspaper from the 1960s, we came across a pretty cool bit of trivia. Their January 1966 issue announced that the newly-formed B.C. Snow Vehicle Association would be holding their inaugural meet and race on January 30th on Alta Lake. The group seems to have been run out of Vancouver.
The report in Ski Trails’ next issue revealed that 23 entries ran in the races, and “Ski-doo” brand machines took all events. Notably, the champion of the large-machine slalom race, running the 20-gate course in 39.9 seconds, was none other than Dick Fairhurst on his Ski-doo “Super Olympique.”
Dick with his little sled-groms on a neighbour’s sled, Ron Dent’s “Dentmobile,” 1965
Dick is better known among Whistler history buffs as the owner of Cypress Lodge, a small lakeside resort he ran from the early 1940s until 1972, when he sold the property to the Canadian Hostels Association. Today, the former lodge is known simply as The Point, a grass-roots arts centre next to Rainbow Park. The snowmobile races were held on what was essentially Dick’s front yard.
From R-L, Dick Fairhurst, Gray Mitchell, Stephan Ples, and Don Gow take a break on Callaghan Lake, March 1970. The entire upper Callaghan Velley, including Callaghan Lake, is now a non-motorized zone to avoid conflicts with backcountry and nordic skiers.
Other winners at the inaugural race: Dee Wickes claimed the small-class slalom on a regular Olympique in 42.0 seconds. A “twisty course” around the lake was set up for the open race, and 30, 15, and 10 lap races were won by Ralph Monhay, Hugh Charbonneau, and Mandy Harrison, respectively.
Unfortunately, we don’t have any background info of this archival photo of snowmobilers taking a break in front of Black Tusk. Judging by the sleds, this is probably from the early 1970s.
Myrtle Philip is the leviathan of Whistler’s history: her name is immortalized in the Myrtle Philip elementary school; she was the first person to be awarded the title ‘Freeman of Whistler’; there is even an official Myrtle Philip day! By all accounts she was a very special lady. Incredibly gutsy, she could do pretty much anything – from building Rainbow Lodge by hand, to baking pies out on the trail, to guiding stranded railway men across the snow and back to civilization. Myrtle Philip was certainly no wallflower.
The Museum is packed full of artifacts and archives relating to Myrtle and Rainbow Lodge. She was the first person to donate items to us, and it was Myrtle and another pioneer, Dick Fairhurst, who inspired Florence Petersen to start the museum. We have hundreds, if not thousands of photographs of Myrtle – I can recognize her instantly at any age from 19 to 90. We even have some silent film footage of her: fishing and with her beloved horses. But despite this I had never heard her voice, save for a ten second clip on an old radio show.
So, imagine my delight when Kay Alsop, a retired journalist and good friend of Myrtle’s called me to let me know that she had some reel-to-reel tapes of an interview she had conducted with Myrtle in 1971 for an article for the Vancouver Province.
Kay had been sent up to Whistler to do a piece on Myrtle and the two of them hit it off immediately. Kay remembers, “She was such a take charge kind of person – no nonsense…really a nifty lady and I could tell right off the bat that we were going to be friends.”
The museum has digitized the tapes. All six reels come to around an hour’s worth of interviews: too much to put on a blog, but we can share some of our favourite excerpts for you here.
Firstly Myrtle discusses how she always wore breeches, despite the fact that women never wore pants at this time:
Hearing Myrtle converse in her broad Maine accent is really thrilling for us at the museum. We have been telling Myrtle’s story for 25 years – now Myrtle gets a chance to speak for herself.
