the whistler effect

Cemented in the zeitgeist of mountain biking, Whistler Mountain is home to the world’s most famous mountain bike park. Like vaults of stoke it’s hallowed slopes hold several decades of epic park riding. From the early fire road days to the newly installed Fitzsimmons quad chairlift, Whistler Bike Park continues to reign as the Mecca for the ultimate bike park experience.

Like so many riders in their late thirties my first introduction to the Whistler Bike Park was through magazine articles/DVD’s. Action sports media saw rapid growth in the early 2000’s. This opened the door for film makers to take their productions to bigger levels. The Collective was no exception. Their third film Seasons was a game changer. The filmmaking style, talent roster, and music selection had an undeniable influence. The ending segment of that film altered my trajectory forever. Seeing the likes of Cam McCaul, Andrew Shandro, Thomas Vanderham, Steve Peat, Stevie Smith (RIP Chainsaw), and Matt Hunter all shredding the Whistler Bike Park was electrifying. After watching a bootleg of it on YouTube I knew that’s what I wanted to do. I also knew Whistler was where I wanted to go. I didn’t think it would take me eighteen years to get there, but in the summer of 2025, I finally made it.

My alarm went off around 4:30 a.m. I quickly remembered I wasn’t in my own bed as I had driven to my buddy Brad’s house in Austin the night before. This morning I and five good friends would be flying from Austin to Vancouver. Torn between early morning bleariness and stoke we made our way into the terminal at Austin Bergstrom International. Following the typical formalities of checking bike bags/luggage, getting through security, and grabbing much needed coffee (stoke juice), we all congregated at the departure gate. Our crew consisted of my long-time shred brothers Rob, Brad, Ivan, Jay, and James. As we waited for our flight to board, I started grabbing various b-roll clips with my phone. While panning to capture a shot of our crew it hit me. We were going to Whistler. It all felt like a dream. Getting to share this trip with some of my best friends was a special emotion. Feeling blessed was an understatement.

After a smooth flight we touched down in Vancouver. The process of getting into the country was a breeze. We collected our luggage/bike bags and made our way to the shuttle that would be ferrying us up to the Whistler village. At this point in the trip the stress of travel began to fade. My mind was occupied with watching the transition of the urban sprawl to the majestic beauty of the Sea to Sky Highway. The majesty of the landscape is hard to compare. Despite spending time in numerous mountain zones this was on another level. It is pure British Columbia. From the shuttle van window, I spotted several climbers making their way up the famous Squamish rock slabs. The views kept getting grander. The majesty of the Coast Range was proving to be more enchanting than I had hoped. I have zero shame in admitting that I got misty eyed. I was about to be in a place that I had dreamt of visiting/riding for so long. It was all new yet familiar. It felt like coming home. Stepping off the shuttle I inhaled my first breath of that Whistler air. The scent of Western Hemlocks permeated every molecule. The stoke levels of our crew were through the roof. Weary from traveling all day we still had massive grins on our faces. Plenty of high fives ensued as we began to assemble the bikes. Thankfully nothing was damaged in transit. With bikes assembled we made our way down to the village. The experience was everything I had hoped for. From the shops, vibes, people, and culture. It was surreal to walk into the mythical epicenter of mountain biking. Sharing this experience with my friends was extra special. For Rob this was yet another in a long twenty-year span of Whistler trips.

Nothing like your first day in the Whistler Village.

The following days were some of the most memorable I have had in years. Day one was a tour of the Fitzsimmons/Garbanzo zones. It was such a surreal experience to lay eyes on those lines let alone be on this mountain. It is a running joke in our crew when someone says, “We’ll take it easy. Nothing crazy.” It didn’t take long till I heard Brad say, “Let’s hit Schleyer.” The group seemed to agree. With fear in my eyes, and a knot in my stomach I dropped in after the crew. Taking it slow I met up with the boys at the big rock slab. Rob, Brad, and Ivan rode the line perfectly. Jay dropped in shortly after. I was starting to get the courage to try the line when I could hear Jay yelling below. The distinct sound of skidding tires reverberated through the trees. I looked at James and we both said, “NOPE!!!” I walked that part of the line. Arriving at the bottom of that section I found Jay intact and Brad laughing his ass off. All was well and we ended the day’s riding session.

View of the Whistler Valley from the house. — The view of the Whistler Valley from the house.

Day two we rode the Top of the World trail. After a warmup run on “Crank it Up” we headed over to the Whistler Gondola. This was going to be a mega day. We would be joined by the “Denver Crew” and our buddies Jeff (Jefco MTB on Youtube) and Ranny. Splitting into groups of three the process of cramming three dudes with bikes into the gondola cabin was less than graceful. It was a full-on gong show. Settling in for the long ride the temperature in the cabin quickly started to rise. I’m not sure why but we could not get the windows open. It was a horrible twenty-minute sauna ride. The miserable expression on Jame’s face is forever burned in my memory. Unloading at the top terminal of the gondola the crisp alpine air brought us back to life. The final leg to the summit required us to ride down and over to get on the Peak Express lift. Rising over the final rock outcropping we arrived at the summit of Whistler Peak. Dreamlike views of the Coast Range filled our eyes. The dominant Black Tusk peak stood as a sentinel watching the valley below. This ride is an absolute must. From the summit of Whistler Peak, you descend five thousand vertical feet to the valley floor. After this ride we were cooked. Some of us laid out on the benches after eating a burger by the Creekside Gondola. An epic day for sure.

Big Timber films, Whistler Bike Park — High fives and shred vibes.

Day three started with Jay and Ivan sessioning Crab Apple Hits. They both killed it as the rest of us were content to watch and shoot video. After descending to the village for a water break, we headed back up the Fitzsimmons chair. A short way up the lift I realized my phone was missing. I double checked every pocket but to no avail. My phone was gone. My heart sank. My internal dialogue began to run. “You idiot!!! You really did it now. You got over stoked and didn’t pay attention.” On and on the dialogue went. As we neared the top of the lift I had already decided on my next move. Since there was no telling where I had lost the phone, my plan was to retrace every trail we had ridden that morning. Rob, James, and Ranny volunteered to join the search party. This was not the day I had planned, but there was no other option. We crawled our way down every line we could recall riding. It was such a lame way to spend an afternoon. Slowly scanning our way down A-Line was slightly scary. As riders blasted past us, we carefully looked for anything that looked like a black cell phone. We were able to appreciate the size of the jumps on A-Line. Nothing to sneeze at that’s for sure. Arriving back at the base area in the village I went to report my phone to lost and found. It seemed like a waste of time, but I had to explore every avenue to potentially get my phone back. I must have asked every lift operator if they had found a black cell phone. With my phone reported we grabbed a late lunch at Zogg’s.

I was feeling anxious and frustrated. Time was ticking. There was a possibility I wouldn’t find the phone. I could easily get back into the U.S. as I had my passport/ access to all my travel documents on my laptop. The worst-case scenario was the idea of getting a burner phone from a local provider. Finishing the meal Rob said, “Lets get your mind of this for a bit.” So, he, Ivan, and I went up to the Garbo zone to explore. It was just what I needed. Just my friends and I riding whatever lines we felt like. No agendas or plans. As we finished the late afternoon session we headed for the house. After showering/getting ready to head to dinner I logged into my wireless provider account to lock my phone. As I navigated the website, I remembered that I had enabled my phone’s location. To my astonishment it showed it on the mountain with thirty percent battery life. It was tough to determine the exact location as the map view wasn’t precise. It seemed to give the impression of being around the lower Fitz Zone. At this point the whole crew was assembled around the dining room table looking at the map. We concluded the phone was in the location where the trails Hornet and A-Line intersected. “I’m heading up on foot” I said. There was a social trail that led from the house up to that spot. Very convenient. Nearing the trail intersection, Jay, James, and myself were greeted by Park Patrol. Naturally we shouldn’t have been walking up the downhill specific trails. We explained the situation and the patrol personnel seemed empathetic. After reviewing the map showing my phone’s location the patrol personnel determined it was somewhere at the bottom of the C-More trail. The only thing to do now was to grab helmets, bikes, and head up the lift.

Riding the Fitz lift to the top at 7:00 in the evening was rad. The golden British Columbia light was bathing the forest in the most pristine afterglow. It felt special to be up there. Dropping in Ivan, Jay, and I enjoyed the descent. The mountain air was exceptionally refreshing. Arriving near the alleged location of my phone we slowed and began searching. Our focus was the little meadow that lies under the lift line. A notorious place for the local Whistler cows (black bears) to hang out. We carefully swept up and around the area. It was so tough as the grass/vegetation was tall. We put a solid ten minutes into our search when Ivan thought to head back to the house and trigger the phone’s ringer from my laptop. Jay and I kept slowly searching. We were at the point of giving up on finding the needle in this haystack when we heard a faint ringing sound. I looked at Jay with wide eyes and said, “bro no way!!” We had to figure out which direction the sound was emanating from. Suprisingly it was further up in the meadow. We headed in the direction. The sound grew louder as well as the hopeful voice in my head. We were getting close. I had to crawl into a thick batch of shrubs. I threw on my full-face helmet and began working my way in. It absolutely sucked. I couldn’t believe how deep this little ravine was. My determination grew as the ring became louder. If there was a bear hiding in here I did not care. I must have crawled four feet in and three feet down to find my phone. It felt like I was fighting my way out of a man-eating plant in some fantasy movie. I emerged from the thick vegetation with my phone in hand. An absolute victory. The feeling of loss morphed into shear joy. Jay and I were laughing at how ridiculous this all was. It turns out it had fallen right before i noticed it was missing. I sent a text to the crew that we had found the phone and were heading to meet them for dinner. It was such a roller coaster of emotions to go from being sick to your stomach to relieved. We rode down to the Longhorn and joined the crew. After recounting the search and recovery mission we toasted to the day. I bought Jay and Ivan’s drinks that night.

The remaining days of this trip were filled with so many priceless memories. Checking off notable goals like clearing the A-Line “Moon Booter”, riding Fade to Black, hitting the Kokanee Box on Freight Train, and hitting the drops on Dirt Merchant were landmarks for myself. The way through which I approach/ asses a jump or technical line has been forever altered. My threshold for what I consider difficult has been elevated. I came away from the Coast Mountains of British Columbia forever changed. I can’t wait to go back. That is the Whistler Effect.

Check out the vlogs from this trip.

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