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An observation of the average Quest student’s reaction to winter



of the corner of your eye the window looks a little different. Something is strange about it – maybe it’s the fact that the ever-present omniscient cloud is gone, maybe it’s the fact that the world seems a little more colorful, maybe it’s the fact that… wait

a second – the mountains have reappeared.

On top of that, you can vaguely see the beginnings of something like sunshine start to peek out from behind the clouds.


you adjust in your seat (thank goodness for the wheels and the ergonomic back) and take in the view. The snow line has crept down to cover the halfway mark. Distantly your brain factors in how much snow there must be up in Whistler – you can already hear the

post-morning class conversation about how much new powder must be on the slopes right now.


than that though your feet suddenly itch to be outside. Imagine it – pushing the glass doors of the academic building with a little bit more gusto in your veins.


of a sudden kids are shedding layers – it’s as if a marginal amount of sunshine raises the current average temperature of Squamish from 2˚C to 20˚C. Short sleeves and bare legs appear for as long as the sunlight last. And there’s a part of you that scoffs

at that logic and another part of you that knows you will be joining the group that’s currently gathering on the grass hill by the cafeteria.


studies have shown that when the sun is out conversations outside last for approximately twice the length that it normally would, and that people tend to smile more during these conversations. Follow up experiments that involve engaging Byron – feet ever stuck

to his skateboard – only help to support this conclusion. The wheels seem to move in slow motion as you ask him once again, “Wait… what block are you in again?”


nods in answer (nothing was heard) and you awkwardly smile as you hop, skip and jump towards your fifth yerba matte for the day – but wait! The sun is out! You don’t need that extra boost of caffeine! Instead your hand reaches for kombucha, grabbing the last

one in stock.

There’s nothing quite like Squamish fog –

it unites sun-lovers and usual-sun-dislikers.

This entry was posted in: Arts&Culture


Valerie Fowles

In addition to working with the Mark this year, Val is an employee of the SRC as the communications officer and a co-organizer of the Our_Futures academic colloquia. If you talk to her in person beware her horrible puns and her strong opinions on corn.

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