From the archives: Winter in Vancouver
Judging from the television coverage, you'd think it was the end of the world. The blanched faces of concerned reporters looking skyward, live in horror. Big puffy clumps of snowflakes descending and splatting triumphantly on the upturned noses of the hardened and possibly frozen journalists.
And then came the pictures: Line-ups in stores to get one of the last shovels and remaining bags of salt. Summer tires spinning in a futile attempt to push 2000 kilos of Truck-A-Saurus up a two per cent grade. Piles of white hell building up on the ground, at least a centimeter thick.
And then came the reporters again: Delivering the worst news ever for the people of B.C.’s Lower Mainland: More snow. And in case we didn't hear, a big red banner flashed SNOW WARNING! Gather the children! Load up the wagons! Let's get outta Dodge!
Welcome to the end of the world. Welcome to winter in Vancouver.
This makes no sense. This is a city where, on a recent morning commute on the bus, I counted more snowboards than briefcases. This is a city where limos sport ski racks. This is the city that is hosting the Winter Olympic Games, for heaven's sake.
Now, before I get slammed for my thoughts, a little background: I have lived in Vancouver for more than a decade. And before that I have lived through brutal winters in Halifax, Winnipeg and Thunder Bay. I am not new at this winter thing.
But, it appears, much of the Lower Mainland is.
Not that snow is a stranger to Vancouver. From practically anywhere in the city you can gaze north and see it for much of the year. But that snow is in the mountains. And while it is handy - only 20 minutes away - it is also non-threatening. Like a polar bear in a zoo, we can gawk at it, but we are safe in the knowledge that it won't come rumbling down the hill to spill our vanilla soy lattes.
I call it "winter on demand." You want snow? Just drive north - and before your sushi gets warm you can be chucking snowballs towards the golf courses thousands of feet below.
In fairness, there are several things that make Vancouver a poor candidate for a winter city: no snow tires, few plows, and no 100 km/h gusts across the prairie. In fact, no prairie!
Luckily, it rarely snows here. And it rarely freezes. These are two meteorological factors of which I was completely unaware of when I moved here in 1997.
ME: It's January, where is the snow?
Vancouverite: Snow? Up there!
ME: No, in the city?
Vancouverite: Bumpkin! Fancy a Mochachino?
This year was different. Boy, was it different. It began in December. Big blobs of snow begin to fall. And then they began to accumulate.
Then it turned cold.
So in the space of a week, we’ve experienced the full Canadian climate. Before the snow fell it was warm enough to golf. And with only some trees devoid of leaves, it even looked like fall. Then came winter.
And while there is still a lot of snow on the ground, I swear that there are cherry blossoms on a tree across the street.
But back to the television coverage. During the "WINTER OF DOOM" the media was in a lather. And that became a frenzy. Every newscast filled their first segment with “storm team” coverage. Five stories or more - and charts, graphs and experts.
Every story had a reporter reporting live out in the snow: The awful, terrible, dangerous, hideous, beautiful snow. One station had a reporter actually driving in the snowy rush hour live on camera. I actually thought that was pretty cool and was secretly hoping for a 360.
Every weather presenter was calm and collected, presenting the facts slowly, so as not to throw the entire population into a panic. But despite their relaxed demeanor, you could tell that inside they were screaming, "Oh my God! It's going to be -4. We're all going to DIE!!!! " I think they even shied away from showing the "Double Doppler" images for fear of possible riots and/or to prevent the hoarding of survival essentials like green tea ice cream.
I giggled.
It is so easy to make fun of the terror a bit of snow brings to the population of Vancouver. Especially having satellite delivered television. I can flip from the stories of the white menace locally to places experiencing real winter like Winnipeg.
I stand in awe of a reporter standing out in a bitter Manitoba wind telling the audience that in the current conditions exposed skin will freeze in less than a, ho hum, minute. And the reporter is wearing neither a toque nor mitts. That's guts.
But there may be hope. There has been snow on the ground for longer than I remember. If I gaze out my window to the park across the street, I can see snowmen, toboggans, dogs in coats and kids having a blast. There are smiles aplenty. And for a moment, Vancouver is just like the rest of Canada in the winter.
Except it's going to rain tonight and I'm going kayaking tomorrow.
