We were skinning up to ski Blackcomb Peak’s DOA—a 1,000-vertical-foot chute that maxes out at 50 degrees—digging the spring corn far too much to make our business meeting on time. My partner plucked a phone from his pocket. “Bad news, Amber,” he fibbed. “We ran into this Brit up on Spanky’s Ladder who was in way over his head. Looks like we’re going to be a bit late.” Amber, who works for WB, understood. She hears stories like this all the time. Who wants to talk shop when there’s 8,000 acres of world-class terrain, from high-alpine glaciers to giant hemlock forests, spread across two mountains plastered by a stable maritime snowpack? After plundering DOA, we finally made it to the GLC, Whistler’s best après patio, where Amber and beers were waiting for us.