Google Found my Phone in a Snowbank after a Month

The Saturday was brilliant. Low mountain skiing in fresh powder at the tail end of a week of storms that dumped snow everywhere around us. We were doing laps in trees and untracked snow with no lift lines – on a Saturday – because everyone else was fighting to be up in the bowls, lining up at the Harmony and Symphony Chairs. A memorable birthday Saturday that, upon reflection harboured an omen of bad luck to come that I missed at the time. My wife gave me a beautiful pair of new gloves for my birthday not realizing that giving gloves as a gift is bad luck. The gift of gloves notwithstanding, I got to ski with the whole family on an epic Saturday that was my birthday, but it was nearly forgotten when compared to what took place on Sunday.

I’ve got a few rules. Or at least I’ve created a few life guidelines in my many years that have morphed into a few rules:

The James Bond Rule

The Saturday

The Sunday at Whistler Rule

We get new rules all the time but one of the most recent additions is the Sunday at Whistler Rule which dictates that one must never move by car late on a Sunday when in or near Whistler. And no matter what, never attempt to drive south to Vancouver. Never. And especially not two weeks after Christmas when the cars filing south on Highway 99 (The Sea To Sky Highway) are literally bumper to bumper and can start building up just after lunchtime.

It was the end of a fabulous holiday season. Everyone was chasing an airplane or just trying to get home. My wife and kids were keen to get back down to the city ahead of (online) classes starting the next day whereas I had my laptop and everything I needed to work from the cabin Monday. Standing in the parking lot at noon, I couldn’t convince anyone to stay. Even the dog abandoned me. I should have taken that as a sign. Instead I grabbed my boards (brand new skis I had just received as a birthday gift) and hit the slopes for a couple of hours of late afternoon skiing in one of my favourite playgrounds.

The Photo – 7th Heaven

From the Roundhouse at the top of Whistler, the afternoon sun lit up 7th Heaven in a blaze of glory you could see from everywhere on that side of the mountain. I rarely ski Blackcomb (AKA the Quiche) so I hopped on the Peak2Peak Gondola and in no time I was carving up fresh powder amongst the trees on Xhiggy’s Meadows. It was a treat. And the view looking south down the valley was so spectacular I had to stop for a photo. I found an open meadow with a little tree in the middle and parked up with my ski tails stuffed into the snow. Before getting going again I pulled out my phone to take a photo of this world class view. Then I rolled over to one side in order to get myself out of the deep snow and just pointed my skis down the mountain. The next few minutes were me carving wide slow turns through the Glades with a big smile on my face as snow came up over my waist and shoulders.

At the 7th Heaven lift, all I could see was a liftee waving off any skiers to the cat track leading to the Village side of Blackcomb. I was thinking – that comes out where I’ll have to catch the last Whistler Village Gondola in order to get back over to my cabin in Creekside. No problem. On a Sunday though, when all the staff are done for the weekend and services are closing early it might be tight so I got down there as quickly as I could. But by the time I got down to Whistler Village, the Whistler Gondola was not taking anyone up. Oh well, I thought, I could be stranded in worse places. I’ll find a bar, watch some football and have a beer. I am in no particular rush to get home and the Village looks magical when covered in a blanket of fresh snow.

Trapped in Whistler Village

As I turned away from the closed Whistler Gondola in the Village looking for a good spot for apres ski, I reached for my phone and suddenly realized it was not there and the pocket zipper was wide open. Uh oh. The first thing I thought of doing was going into a big hotel to use a public computer to locate the lost phone. At least that way I would know definitively where it was.

I ask the person at the front desk “Excuse me, where is your business services room? Where I would print something or get on a computer.” She shoots me this look like “Where have you been? We haven’t had anything like that since before COVID. The lineup behind me was filled with weary guests waiting to check out or dealing with issues. None of whom wanted to watch some guy still in his ski gear continue to ask question for which there are no good answers. I ask if I can use a house phone to make a phone call. Local. The woman looking at me pushes her desk phone handset through an opening in the plexiglass, steps back and with folded arms proceeds to stare at me until I was done.

I felt like I was in prison and I had one call. Call Tracy. No, she’s probably in the car, running errands on a busy Sunday evening. Our eldest daughter is probably with her. Middle child, I’ll call him. Wait a minute, I need someone to answer reliably and, well… Who’s left? The youngest child, he’ll be on his laptop studying (and watching a movie at the same time) and he likely has the passwords to all my accounts anyway. So I dial and he answers. “Are you on your laptop?” Slowish groan. Momentary delay during which I can hear him thinking “How long is this gonna take?” But instead I get an all-business “What’s up Dad?”

I’m like “Focus: I have one phone call and I need you to get into my Google account and Find my Phone. It’ll plot it on a map, I need to know where it is. Need this now. “

To his credit, the youngest snapped into action and was into my account with an unsettling speed. But then he says “Dad, it’s pinging your mobile for 2 Factor Authentication (2FA) before it lets an unknown computer into my account. Uh, that’s not gonna work. What do I do now, I can hear myself thinking. Uhm, “Tell your mother I lost my phone and now I’m trapped in the Village with no way to call you, or you to call me. I don’t know when I’ll talk to you again. Bye.”

And with that, I walked out of the hotel. Skis, poles, boots, helmet, the whole kit. I actually tried a second hotel. Then gave up and just figured I would take an Uber back to Creekside. Wait, no phone. A bus then. No money. Credit card and driver’s license attached to the back of the phone. Okay, I’m just gonna find a restaurant, get something to eat and figure this out.

Found a spot at the bar of yet another hotel where, after some convincing they cleared a space for a weary traveler. But when they asked for my Vaccination card, which is only accessible with my phone, the woman looked up at me like I had just barfed on her shoes. “You’re not vaccinated?” I started to explain “No, I am vaccinated I just don’t have the…” It didn’t matter. She absolutely did not want me anywhere near her or anyone else. I was immediately escorted back outside. As I loped along in the darkening January evening, I could smell wafts of food from the eateries and heard music from all the places I could not go.

On my way to the bus stop I see a driver dropping someone off so I approach him and ask how much for a lift to Creekside thinking I could pay him at the other end with cash. And in the thickest French Canadian Franglais twang he said “Creekside? That’s at least an hour and a half, maybe two hours.” Whaaat? That’s like 5km. I could walk it, but not in ski boots. Why is that? And as those words crossed my lips I looked up and saw complete gridlock within Whistler. Cars, trucks, buses, cabs, coaches and all manner of vehicles literally stationary as they tried to get out to one of the roads that connected to the highway. Nothing was moving.

All I could think of at that point was “I need a replacement phone.” It was getting late but I don’t know what the time is because of course, everything is on or through that device. Even the map I would typically use to see exactly how far, or where I could go, was on a phone I did not have.

Then I realized Tourist Services would still be open helping anyone in need. When I got there, huffing and puffing from the walk with all my gear, the kind lady sorted me out and directed me to the only open retail phone store. It’s at Nester’s just up the road. Thank you, oh what time does it close?

Open til 7pm.

What time is it now?

420pm you’ve got lot’s of time.

Just grab the No 31 bus right there.

I step outside and realize, oh yeah, the buses are in the same traffic jam as everything else, so I just start hoofing it. In the end I walked over 3.5km. All of it in ski boots, and I still have a mark from the blister. It doesn’t take all that long, and I was determined so I covered the ground quickly. But when I was about halfway there trying to decide if I should go this way along the Hwy as I would in a car or that way – Vrooom. The No. 31 bus roars by me. Seriously?! That definitely resulted in some bad language. Possibly loud. Whatever, I just kept striding to my destination in order to sort this out.

Retail Hell

As I arrive at the storefront I can see the manager on the other side of the glass leaning down to lock the door. Wait a minute there buddy, as I push my way inside. He looks at me and says, “Oh we were just about to close up.” To which I responded with something like “I don’t think so. The website says you are open until 7pm…” as I rolled on by him into the store. The only other person there is Albert. A pudgy Asian kid in his 20’s wearing sweatpants. Yup, describing him as pudgy and Asian is derogatory at best but over the course of the next 2 hours this kid proved without a doubt, he deserved far worse than a couple of insulting but vaguely accurate names. Not putting too fine a point on it, Albert and I didn’t get off to a good start.

I began by explaining my predicament to Albert and his manager fully believing they would understand and help me solve the problem we were presented with. The manager kept asking me questions like he was going through some checklist and when he got to asking about ID I replied that I had picture ID in the form of my Ski Pass. That was it. He pounced on that little nugget exclaiming they could not help me unless I had Government issued Identification. Two pieces. I’m like “Why?” Just call up my account using my phone number and I will verify every detail. Turning to Albert, who had blurted out several unhelpful suggestions at this point, I said rather curtly, “Albert. Why are you not typing and bringing up my account details?”

Albert says, “My Team is working on it.”

Your team? You mean him? The manager standing right there? Your team? The three of us are the only people who know about this. Are you kidding me…

The manager starts moving towards me with a mix of sympathy and delight oozing from every pore. He wanted me out of there so he could go home. Not so fast buddy. Listen, I’m a Telus Business customer with multiple accounts, blah blah blah. Nothing. I am nearly out of options. Then I explain to the manager “I am working from Whistler tomorrow so if I don’t solve this now I will be back here at 9am tomorrow morning with the same problem. So, who’s working tomorrow morning?” He stops protessting. I thought so… Then he gets this look on his face like he is solving a puzzle. He says, “How are you going to pay for the phone?” I smile, having thought of this already, “Just put the cost on my monthly bill and if you need any part of that now I can use Google Pay once I am signed in on the new phone.” He pauses for a moment, then says “Okay”.

Pressing my advantage, I turn to Albert – Why are you not typing still?

My team…

Albert – I swear to God if you say that again someone will regret it. STAND UP. LISTEN TO ME – GO IN THE BACK AND BRING OUT YOUR INVENTORY OF PIXEL PHONES. GO NOW. GO!

I turn back to the manager and, admitting defeat, he says “I think this is a back end issue.”

I’m like what? It’s Sunday at 5pm. This is not a “back end issue”. This is a Customer Service issue. I am a customer, and I need help. Let’s get them on the phone right away. So he starts dialing. Albert has disappeared into the back. But finally, we are getting somewhere. I sense a glimmer of hope.

While the manager is on hold, a 20-something lady strides in. Albert sits perched on his shiny chrome barstool. In his clean sweatpants. And does nothing. The manager greets her then leads her to a desk and terminal at the back of the store while he is still on hold with Customer Service for me.

I look at Albert – DO YOU REALIZE HOW UTTERLY UNNECESSARY YOU ARE RIGHT NOW? HE HAS TWO CUSTOMERS AND YOU ARE HANDLING ZERO. HIM TWO, YOU NONE. WHAT’S UP WITH THAT?

The manager overhears this exchange and realizes how nonsensical this was so he shuffles Ablert over to the back computer to take care of the new customer freeing the manager to turn his sole focus onto the hold music coming out of the phone in his hand. Over in the back, Albert gets to work solving this young lady’s concern, and what does he do? He dials a number, puts it on speaker and sets the phone on the desktop playing music while they wait. So far, these two geniuses have demonstrated that they are able to do just one thing: call customer service and remain on hold. Perhaps that is two things but this is not exactly inspiring optimism in me, beleaguered as I was at that point but perhaps I have set the bar too high.

Despite all of this, plus 1hr 30min+ of multiple calls and questions through the manager, we get the okay to proceed. The “okay” for me to buy a new phone at full retail price after I have paid off the $300 or so owed on the last one. How much is this costing me? Forget it, just hand me the Pixel 6. But the manager won’t even let me touch it. He carefully explains how delicate these devices are, how the screens will crack if they are dropped, blah blah blah. Oh, I realize he is at risk now. If I drop the phone before buying it he knows I will just look up at him and say “Hand me that other one over there, I’m not buying a broken phone…”

Now, all I have to do is sign into my Google account so I can use Google Pay and – oh no. It suddenly dawns on me that signing into a new phone will require 2 Factor Authentication and it will ping my old phone. That’s not good, but I wasn’t about to stop now so I press on clicking boxes and entering information. I get my Google password wrong twice. I paused before the third attempt, not willing to ponder what would happen if I couldn’t get in or locked myself out. Just as I click OK and get into Google I look up at the manager explaining my expectation that the new phone will ping my old phone… He just smiles as I enter the final digits and like magic, the 2FA pings my new phone. Aha! That is what he was figuring out over an hour ago. He knew this would happen and had figured out it would work as long as he first transferred my profile to the new SIM card. Now I understand what his (only) superpower is…

And the next thing I knew I was sitting at the bar two doors down with a cold beer and four steaming tacos on a plate in front of me. My new phone was still connected to the back-office Wifi the manager had connected me to so my new phone was downloading something like 138 Apps. It was warm to the touch.

Of course the first thing I did was open Find My Phone. Saw my blue dot beside an odd looking straight line that led off the map to the right. Zoomed out until I had 7th Heaven on screen and then I saw it. It showed the exact GPS position of my lost phone. Xhiggy’s Meadows. Zooming in on it and dropping a pin on the map to mark the location I resolve in that moment to retrieve it.

The Maps

Got the location from Find My Phone

The new phone worked famously and I eventually got a ride back to Creekside with a couple of friends who were likewise stranded in the Village and were just waiting it out in a bar. “Hey there, what have you been up to?” they ask. Oh gawd, don’t get me started.

Strangely, it took more than a month for me to return to that meadow and retrieve the old Pixel 5. I could not be in Whistler the following weekend so two weeks later I head up on a Saturday with a Gopro, an avalanche shovel and anything I could think I might need to dig through some snow for this phone. On that day I left the house late and found myself hurrying to get up the mountain before the upper mountain lifts closed. But I seemed to make it in time and riding up the 7th Heaven Chair I was filled with confidence that I would find this phone. After all, I just needed to get close enough to find that meadow and I was certain the phone had dropped out when I was sitting by that little tree. I did find the spot easily and posted up with my backpack and folding shovel digging through feet of new and old snow. But 15 minutes of digging and I found nothing so as daylight began to fade I gave up and skied down to the lift.

First Attempt

Dug out a huge section of snow with a Frisbee from my backpack

but even four feet down I found nothing

Oh no. As I approach the chairlift I see it is roped off with the liftee sending all comers down to the Village. Seriously? At least it was only a Saturday so the traffic couldn’t be that bad. It is. Nearly gridlocked traffic and an hour + to get to Creekside. This time, I find a hotel shuttle for the Nita Lake Lodge and just sit back playing with my new phone blissfully unaware of the traffic all around. I get a text from one of my ski buddies asking if I got the phone. I explain where I was and how I tried but failed to find the phone, and all I get back is “Blake, how did you get stuck in the Village again? How does this keep happening to you?”

Found It

It took a week of sun to melt much of the January snow but I could see it 30 feet away as I approached

I took another week to return to that spot and after a week of sunshine I could see my old phone buried in the snow from 30 feet away. I had dug past it but not quite close enough to see it on the first try, but with a bit of sun melt the phone was on display. And worked too. Once fully charged it was as good as new, just sadly superfluous now.

The Photo