Uncle Al,

As you know, going from beloved Mount Pakenham to Whistler is exciting. I am so thankful for all of the March breaks, reading weeks, and the winter of 2002-2003 that we spent in Whistler growing up. As a ski instructor (or as you would say, twinkie), I can confidently say that following three grown men, with a competitive sibling rivalry, who haven’t skied together for a year, doing spread eagles on Fish Eye, teaches you things that no ski lesson ever could.

You introduced us to the true ski bum life from an early age. I was always excited to tell my friends that my Uncle Al lived in a van.

You were just as much of a ski bum after moving out of the van and into a house. Nothing says ski bum like adult Heelys. I also had Heelys (I was 9). Anyone that knows our family can see where this story is going. A Heely race between Uncle and Niece that led to a wipe out that would have made Jerry Of The Day if it was around back then. Yes, I was the one who crashed. No, that doesn’t make you a bad Uncle.

Fast forward to 2013 when you took Andrew and I to work, and we slid most of the way down Blue Line in the cat. I thought it was pretty standard, purely based on how calm you were while it was happening. It wasn’t until you managed to stop the cat and told us that it was the furthest you’d ever slid that I realized it was far from standard. This is just one of the many stories that Andrew, Sarah, Morgan, Justin, Alex, and I have about you being a total badass.

A few years later in 2016, my time to live the ski bum dream had finally come. I was stoked to get out into the backcountry. I took my Avy 1 course and had my Dad’s hand-me-down alpine trekkers clipped into full metal bindings mounted on big pow skis. Needless to say, you were the only person who would go touring with me. I often got comments on the skin track along the lines of- “I haven’t seen alpine trekkers in years!” or “That is the heaviest setup I’ve seen in a long time.” For someone who doesn’t slow down or stop while riding resort, you were amazingly patient with me and my alpine trekkers that whole season. Thank you for introducing me to what quickly became my favourite place, the backcountry.

The year that I lived in Whistler I moved a lot, as most people do during their first year in Whistler. The hospitality at Nancy Greene Drive made my many moves feel inconsequential. I’m sure anyone who has spent any amount of time sitting or sleeping on the couch knows what I’m talking about. Knowing that I could always crash on the couch, or move into Colt (best roommate ever)’s room when Alex was housesitting made it feel like home.

I realized that we have more photos from the one day that we went cross-country skiing than all of our days skiing combined. This is partially because Alex had his camera and we were all wearing matching hats, but mostly because everyone knows that when you ski with Al Paul, you don’t take breaks. When my friends call me out for being impatient while skiing, my response is usually- if you grew up skiing with my Uncle Al and Uncle Dave, you would be too.

Thanks for showing me how it’s done, from Fish Eye spread eagles, Heely races, old school bike trails, the skin track, and everywhere in between.

Loads of love,

Ali