I am woken from my blissful slumber by a sudden jerk of the brakes. We had come to a complete stop under a partly constructed bus terminal. I look out of the windows. The snow is falling heavily making a shiver run down my spine as I anticipate a cold walk. I need a few attempts at convincing my arms to go into my jacket sleeves before they listen to me. Coat on, I exit the bus, jumping the last two steps to land firmly on the ground.

We had finally arrived in Whistler, and what a sight to behold. Deep and crunchy snow carpets the ground; a steady stream of freshly falling powder ensures footprints only linger briefly. The heavy snowfall requires me to blink and continuously squint to see anything. The buildings that surround us are bespoke, coming in all shapes and sizes but all with one very similar and defining feature; a box of Christmas lights (Must be Government issue) have been flung over the top of them. Eventually, we shake out of our trance gathering up our gear and making our way to the tourist information centre. Gav goes inside to ask directions to our Air B&B; swiftly returning to say we may as well take a taxi.

We quiz the local cab driver, who tells us that we are in a great spot with quick access to the mountain and a short stumble home from the pub. He lets us know how expensive Whistler is, saying he has to do two jobs just to afford the mountain lifestyle. I start to sweat a little, I know this will be expensive, but I may have underestimated it completely. The cab eventually pulls up outside a large wooden house consisting of three floors and a precarious climb up the steep icy driveway. He helps us get our luggage off the top of the car and Gavin acquires the driver’s business card for future reference.

Just as we reach the top of the accommodation’s stairway, a large Canadian woman exits with a terrified and trembling blind dog. It sits at her feet in a constant state of paranoia, shaking and looking over its shoulder. She greets us in a booming Canadian voice, shaking our hands. Her name is Pam. Pam and her Husband are ski instructors and own several properties that they rent out. We were living in a smaller bolt-on apartment to the side of their primary residence. She tells us to make ourselves at home and that she’ll give us the grand tour once she has finished walking the dog. She pulls on the chain causing her canine to release a stiff yelp.

The apartment is spacious with an open front room consisting of a kitchen, dining and living room. The bedroom has a bunk bed along with a single on the side. Gav immediately calls top bunk, throwing his gear to protect his claim. He can have it; I’ve seen the hazards associated with drunkenly clambering in and out of the top bunk. A sudden drop in the room temperature signals Pam’s return as she leaves the door open with no regard to heat conservation. We head back to the living room where she starts the grand tour.

Pam's Grand tour is not so much a tour as it is a training course, open to all levels of abilities informing us of the very basics, such as how a tap works, to the more advanced manoeuvres, such as how to switch the TV on and off. “This is how you turn on the TV, ay”… the TV is poorly tuned and flickers with static. The initial picture is of a beach with crashing waves, ”I like this channel, it used to be a log fire, but now it has ocean sounds, ay” she booms. Gavin and I squint at the television unsure if it is static or the sound of breaking waves. The program changes to a backdrop of the Grand Canyon, the static sound does not alter. "Swoosh and swoosh", she roars seemingly vindicated entirely in her assessment of the white noise. I would be interested in her answers to a Rorschach test.

Pam eventually imparts her useful local knowledge, letting us know where the best restaurants were; from $20 sushi to $30 Italians. She lets us know of a local supermarket up the street but says it is super expensive and we should stick to eating out. Gav and I look at each other, a little concerned, from the horror stories we’ve heard, it sounds like we might have to live off of $20 sushi for the next couple of months. She gives us some final advice on how to cross the road to get to the shop, “you need to press the button, ay…and look right, ay…left and then right again, ay. If nothing is coming, you should be safe to cross”. It was a difficult concept to grasp but one I would have to master if I wanted to survive.

We... and I use this term loosely have a further chat with Pam to get to know each other a little better. Every time I try and ask a question or throw out a little quip, Pam gives me a look of pure bewilderment, my accent is too thick for her it seems. Gavin has to come to my aid, translating my sentences. I eventually give up. We learn a little more about the family next door. Pam and her husband have three children that help run the full extent of their Air B&B operations. She is very excited to tell us about each of her children.

Her eldest daughter, Marielle, is a ski cross, Olympic gold medalist as well as the world cup champion in 2012, 2014 and 2017 and reigning Canadian champion. Pam picks up a magazine from the top of the pile on the coffee table, “see she is even on the front cover, ay”. The middle child, Broderick, had just qualified for the Korean Olympics due to take place the following month. He is an accomplished alpine skier who places highly in the world cup circuits. Tess, the youngest child, Pam informs us, “she’s a good dancer”, before swiftly moving on. All three assists her with the day to day running of her rental business. Once Pam has left, Gav smiles, quickly pointing out, "We have it good here, we even have an Olympic gold medalist that takes out our trash."

After getting settled in we trek up to the local shop to fill up on groceries and put to the test our newly found road crossing capabilities. The horror stories about expensive general goods seemed ill-found and didn’t take into consideration the strength of the British pound, Gav and I have a sigh of relief. We were prematurely creating plans to bulk buy in Vancouver.

Returning to the flat, I whip up a quick meal and brew us a pot of tea before setting up my camera for interviews to catch the first thoughts of the weary travellers and our ambitions for the months to come…..