The Weekender Effect: Hyperdevelopment in Mountain Towns

by Robert William Sandford

Praise for The Weekender What happens to paradise when you carve it up into lots and sell it? Bob Sandford writes about it with clarity and a deep love of the places he knows so well. Sandford's story of one town's mutation from a quiet mountain haven to an overcrowded, generic 'outpost of globalization' is essential reading for those who care about community and our last few glorious spaces. Thomas Wharton, author of Icefields , Salamander and The Logogryph Equal parts manifesto, meditation, and love song to mountain communities everywhere, this calmly passionate book belongs in every house, condo, tent and backpack in the mountain West and on university courses on nature writing, the environment, community, citizenship, sense of place, human geography and many more. This is essential reading for anyone who lives in, lusts after or loves the mountains. Pamela Banting, President, Association for Literature, the Environment and Culture in Canada As cities continue to grow at unprecedented rates, more and more people are looking for peaceful, weekend retreats in mountain or rural communities. More often than not, these retreats are found in and around resorts or places of natural beauty. As a result, what once were small towns are fast becoming mini cities, complete with expensive housing, fast food, traffic snarls and environmental damage, all with little or no thought for the importance of local history, local people and local culture. The Weekender Effect is a passionate plea for considered development in these bedroom communities and for the necessary preservation of local values, cultures and landscapes.

128 pages, Hardcover

First published September 1, 2008

About the author

Bob Sandford is the author or editor of over 35 books on the history and heritage of the Canadian West. He began his work with UN-linked initiatives as chair of the United Nations International Year of Mountains in 2002. He also chaired the United Nations International Year of Fresh Water and Wonder of Water Initiative in Canada in 2003–04. These celebrations focused on the growing importance of water to ecological and cultural heritage in Canada.

Reviews

[Stephanie · Rating 2 out of 5]

- So many gross generalizations and oversimplications, and the author’s tone crosses from patriotic to nationalistic. What the hell is “the West we want”?? Who the hell is “we”? And why does he constantly refer to that phrase as some odd sort of beacon of hope?
- He keeps mentioning the fact that “we saved the mountains.” From who and from what, exactly? He even compares his woes to those of Indigenous peoples’, having their land and culture forcibly stolen from them. Seriously?? Sure, the UN Heritage sites are great and all, but why gloss over the history of Parks Canada and their tremulous relationship with local Indigenous peoples?
- The gatekeeping and NIMBYism is crazy: if you’re not a local, then you’re an outsider. And a threat to the “community way of life” apparently.
- The population grew enough to the point where traffic lights were installed onto “our” mountain town roads. How…terrible?
- Also, foreign investors/ 3rd home retirees cause housing problems in all of Canada. Mountain towns aren’t unique at all, and his proposed solutions only create more problems.
- +1 star only because this generated a lot of passionate and heated conversations lol

[Denise · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book got me thinking about a few things. First and foremost, it reminded me how lucky we are that a handful of people, years ago, possessed the energy and vision to create the amazing Canadian Rocky Mountain Parks.

I count myself among those who have found a "sense of place" in the mountains - not only a deep attachment to the character (and characteristics) of the Canadian Rockies, but also a sense of my place in the universe, a grounding of my being.

As for the weekender effect described by Mr. Sandford, I concur that weekenders have exacerbated the rate of population growth, the sprawl of city-style subdivisions and the fraying of the fabric of community in the mountain towns of the West, I couldn't help but think that all of the negatives he describes are not limited to the mountain towns of Alberta and B.C.

I grew up in the Okanagan valley; all the negatives Mr. Sandford ascribes to the weekender effect have been at play in the Okanagan since the 1970s. Those with a long-standing connection to Ontario's "lake country" could draw the same parallels. Even those who live in big cities, like Calgary, experience the negative effects of urban sprawl and the lack of connection with neighbours.

In my opinion Mr. Sandford doesn't give enough weight to unbridled human population growth as the root cause of his discontent. Sure, real estate speculators have magnified the effect. But so long as the world's population races towards 8 billion, 10 billion and more, the more pressure we'll put on our planet earth, the bigger our towns and cities will become, and the more we'll all be scrambling just to make a living. We're all suffering the effects of hyperdevelopment - to a greater or lesser degree.

It's overwhelming, depressing...there are no easy solutions. Mr. Sandford has specific suggestions for maintaining a strong "sense of place" in our mountain towns of the West. They can be distilled to two main points: 1) slow the growth; and 2) don't give up - each of us needs to invest energy into building the community we want to live in. The bigger challenge is in applying this advice on a global scale.

[D · Rating 3 out of 5]

There are some decent ideas in here, but often the author doesn't go far enough. I feel like the book would have been much more illuminating had he employed a more radical analysis, as too many of the forces at play seem non-sequitar, or without proper context, when he brings them up. I did enjoy hearing about the process Canmore went through though and feel like that's a good inoculation for anyone living in a town threatened by 'amenity migration'.

Also, I feel like he made a whole lot of noise about the National Parks of the Rockies in Canada, without any criticality of the history of the parks, the nefarious role of the CPR, or the constant tension between conservation and recreation that has existed there, not too mention the fact that the biggest highway in Western Canada runs through it.

[Daniel Simmons · Rating 1 out of 5]

I sympathize with Sandford's paean to mountain towns and his laments about their loss, but vapid generalizations and folksy mixed metaphors made this slim book a slog. The author liberally quotes a number of other writers: Wallace Stegner, Terry Tempest Williams, even Michael Crichton. I wish I'd read something by them instead.

[Gerj · Rating 1 out of 5]

I made the mistake of looking at this book’s symbols of authority - a UN-related author and a memorial edition re-printing and thought this book would have much more to offer than it did.

The best part of this book is probably the 2023 note from the author, which softens many of his sharpest points in the original text and adds crucial caveats that reposition him from cranky crypto-xenophobe to garden-variety NIMBY.

Of all of the things that gall me most about this book, it is this:

Despite all of his commitment to his small community (which, relatedly, I find very strange he never names), he is never really able to tangibly articulate why it is so special.

And here’s the thing: I *know* places like that are special. I’ve been to them, I’ve lived in them. But Sanderson variously relies on the geological record and poetry to justify why he loves his community the way it is so much. That failing is more damning than anything else I can say about this book.

Sanderson has a genuine and meaningful issue in his hands. Small communities are more and more subject to the rapacious appetites of capital and more and more pursue developmental strategies that will destroy the natural environment that the communities depended on in every sense, while reducing social harmony and so on.

But the folksy generalizations and poor policy prescriptions (which he himself seems unable to perform) make this more of a personal lament than anything substantive.

Lastly: while this book is a little older (2009, first edition), for someone who claims such a strong “connection to the land,” Sanderson’s lack of awareness of and consistent prop-like positioning of Indigenous peoples is especially glaring. That he would leave the most likely allies in his fight aside suggests to me that he is guilty of the very thing he is accusing developers of: wanting his own needs to be met immediately and profoundly, while caring not a lick for the impact on and relationship to others needs.

[Andrew · Rating 2 out of 5]

Not much of substance in this book. It’s ssentially just the author spending the whole book complaining how his home has changed, with lots of flowery language and NIMBYism.

He provides no tangible insights into how to change, prevent the same from happening, or to welcome others.

Not to mention he doesn’t address the obvious - that his move there years ago displaced the First Nations, in the way he currently feels he’s being displaced.

[Evan Bennewies · Rating 3 out of 5]

A reasonable and clearly a long-pondered argument but the book shoots itself in the foot by trying to remain polite and ambiguous. There’s only so many ways to dance around naming specific events and the town they pertain to before the meaning of the examples are lost. The points are relevant to people leaving in mountain towns (or wanting to move there) but the message will be lost on anyone else.

[Lizzie Roche · Rating 3 out of 5]

Overall pretty vague. It's hard to understand the authors stance on things. Some more concrete examples would help expand on ideas.
Who is "we"? Who is "us in West"?

[Katiclops · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Deep and meaningful connections to place are a fundamental element of what makes us human."

Robert Sandford, The Weekender Effect

The Weekender Effect is another one of RMB’s slim little manifesto series. It is narrated by long-time Canmore resident Robert Sanford, who I later found out, is a prominent ecological activist and environmental steward from the Rocky Mountain Parks area. Much of the manifesto is exactly what one would expect from a small, idyllic, mountain-town resident who is seeing his community erode as giant influxes of weekend residents arrive and snap up investment properties–he’s not too happy. Surprisingly however, he provides a well researched, discourse on the metaphysical aspects of place, which he attempts to balance in a non-whiny way as he paints the somber evolution of the town.

I was anticipating a pedantic analysis of urban migratory patterns, coming from a small-town biased “we were here first” type narrative. Instead, I was taken aback by how many of the nuanced steps in the development of sense of place he was able to pick up on.

Tourist economies are just as volatile as the bust-boom of the resource cycles, and should be approached with a degree of cautiousness. As described in his essay, the mountain parks are fortunate enough that they have a huge swath of territory conserved and set aside, making true preservation and conservation of megafauna possible.

Sanford also because paradoxical when describing the successes of tourism. He proudly touts the 7 million vists a year to Canadian Rocky Mountain Parks and then is quick to criticize the “wealthy urbanites from around the world who have decided that living in this largely protected landscape is preferable to living in the often corroded and dirty places they helped build.” The “little” things, often done for the safety and comfort of permanent residents (like the highway adding more passing lanes, rumble strips and pull-outs), also facilitates an increased amount of traffic, and definitely erodes barriers of migrants into the area.

I really grappled with Sandford's piece: it was thoughtful and resonating.
Thanks to RMB and Bob Sandford for a great, thought-provoking book-highly recommended.

Original, complete review posted here.