Earlier this week, I received an email from Oberto Oberti, the architect who had the vision that would one day be Kicking Horse Mountain Resort. Twenty-five years ago, I had written a piece about him, and he just sent it back to me. It was published Dec. 13, 2000. Here’s an excerpt from that article:
“The year 2000 has been an especially busy one for our little town, different than that of previous years. No need to ask why; most people know it’s because of the resort. Kicking Horse Mountain Resort, that is, has put our little town on the international map.
I consider myself privileged to have been able to attend the Grand Opening of Kicking Horse Mountain Resort, along with the residents of Golden and the surrounding areas. The development achieved in such a short time is nothing short of amazing. If you were there that day, you would have seen a number of individuals making speeches and toasts, thanking all for their hard work to bring the project thus far.
How did this all come about, you might say? Surely an idea like this could only have come from a great team of individuals, the result of many ideas being put together. A team of various people and groups over many years. The resort, as it is today, however, is largely the idea of one man. Not a ski hill developer, but an architect. Oberto Oberti.
Walking through the daylodge, I, like probably two thousand other people, realized perhaps for the first time just how very impressive Kicking Horse Mountain Resort really is.
As I stood at the top of the stairs, I caught a glimpse of the architect making his way through the lobby, within whose dream I, and a couple of hundred other people, were standing. I wondered what calibre of man could possibly have had a dream this size. Someone who should be feeling extremely proud at this moment, I thought to myself. And, seeing a small window of opportunity, I shouted “Oberto!” and bolted down the stairs.
He stopped, turned around and with a smile, extended his hand to me.
“Yes, can I help you?” he said. He didn’t know my name or my face, and nor should he have, for I was not a contractor or a person involved in the project, merely a proud member of the community that will surely never be the same.
“I only wanted to meet you,” I said, and happily shook his hand. And with that, a great smile broke out on his face, one that I will remember always.
In that moment, I observed the humility and grace of a great individual. If he was proud of this great achievement, as I’m sure he was and will always be, you couldn’t tell. I looked for it, but didn’t see it.
What I did see, however, was victory. Victory for him and all the others who rolled the dice on a community in southeastern BC that could never have, in its wildest dreams, imagined what is now a reality. A visionary who stopped to shake a nobody’s hand, just because he was asked.
Oberto, you made our day, our month, our year.
Not only have you changed the course of our lives, but that of our children and our grandchildren. You shared with us your vision, your dream. You believed in us. And now begins a new era for our community, for Golden. A new chapter in our lives.
We will be forever in your debt, and we thank you.
Merry Christmas.”
