Travel Adventures for Grown-Ups
Skiing Jackson Hole, Wyoming
Info:
Jackson Hole Mountain ResortPO Box 290
Teton Village, WY 83025
Web:
www.jacksonhole.com
Phone:
888-Deep-SNO
307-733-2292
Jackson Hole Old & New
by Mitch Kaplan
photos by Mitch Kaplan
I stood in a crowd of 2,000 at Jackson Hole Mountain Resort, waiting for the resort's new tram to be unveiled. It was dark. It was cold.
Nobody seemed to care.
A rock band played raucously. Kids and dogs ran free on the snow. A video-slide
production was projected on a temporary jumbotron screen. Crossed spotlights focused on the transport cable 100 feet overhead.
Amidst the clamor I reflected on how much Jackson Hole has changed since I first skied here in the 1970s. And, how much remains the same.
Glory Days
I took my first western ski-week vacation here in 1970-something. I traveled with a couple of friends, lodged slopeside in what can only be described as a regular motel, and signed up for a five-day lesson package.
The resort sustained an unpretentiousness back then. Perhaps it had to. You could barely get there from anywhere. As I recall, we flew to Idaho Falls and rode a school bus for an hour or two.
I remember few specifics from that trip. The base area lodging was simple and relatively sparse. Unlike many of our peers, we'd stepped up to our motel-ish digs rather than stay at The Hostel. The Mangy Moose Bar was the raucous place-to-be for apres-ski. The town of Jackson offered a handful of eateries, shops and lodging.
The mountain itself? Huge. Intimidating. Exhilarating. Uphill transport included several slow chairlifts and a bright red 60-person tram that made you feel you were in the Alps. A ski school run by some guy named Pepi Stiegler, a 1964 slalom gold medal winner.
I arrived as an advanced intermediate skier. Six days later I left as a low-expert who proudly possessed a 100,000 vertical feet pin, earned—yes—by having skied 100,000 vertical feet in one week.
Modern Times
The Jackson Hole I visited last year was very different. Primarily? The ambience has changed.
Gone is the predominant basic lodging. Yes, The Hostel is still there—and kudos to the place for maintaining a spot that's affordable and slopeside—but now the place is littered with upscale hostelries that include a Four Seasons Resort and the ultra-posh, private Teton Club. Even the old Super 8 has morphed into something called the Inn at Jackson, replete with sushi bar (and a good one it is, by the way).
I overnighted at Snake River Lodge & Spa. Recently renovated in what's called a "rustic elegance" style, it proved a far cry from my digs 30 years ago. And, I resided for one night at Hotel Terra, a poshly modern place that's LEED-certified.
(Read more about Snake River Lodge & Spa and Hotel Terra here.)
Unlike the old days, it seems that every lodging facility must now have a spa, a phenomenon I don't understand, but about which I'm willing to admit my ignorance.
The resort's dining, too, has gone upscale. Even on-mountain. (Dinner at Couloir, accessed from the Bridger Gondola had gained raves from Food and Wine and Conde Nast Traveler.
I dined at Snake River Lodge's gamefish, Teton Mountain Lodge's Cascade Restaurant and Hotel Terra’s Il Villaggio Osteria. Gamefish's specialties are beef and wapiti. Cascade has a more eclectic menu. Il Villaggio serves, you guessed it, Italian. All delicious, but oh my, pricey.
Just down the road, dinner was devoured at a new eatery, Q Roadhouse, where the prices came back to earth a bit, the atmosphere was brick-walls and peanut-shells-on-the-floor funky, and offerings like grilled venison with Israeli couscous and shrimp jambalaya came in generous, delicious servings.
The facilities have changed, too, most notably the creation of a state-of-the-art kids' center to accommodate the increasing number of families who are coming here. It's impressive, that facility; it's just conjures a contrast to the mountain's daredevil reputation.
Not that I'm complaining, mind you. I've reached an age where I've earned a little comfort. I just wondered if this Jackson Hole had lost its soul to the monied few.
Tradition
In a word? No.
Three years and $31 million were required to replace the tram. It’s fair to ask why undertake the expense, considering that a pair of gondolas would have cost much less.
Pose that question and you discover that Jackson Hole is more than a bunch of lifts and
trails on a seriously steep mountain. You discover that traditions here run deep.
"This is real big mountain skiing," I was told by Ted Curtin of Rocky Mountain Tours, a Jackson aficionado and my traveling companion on this trip. "The tram represents what Jackson Hole is all about. It’s more than a piece of machinery to these people. It’s a symbol. And it’s vital to the resort’s ability to attract visitors."
So, tradition does survive. You can still experience a classic ski week here, with lifts, lessons and lodging. To ski the hill's major challenges—The Hogbacks, Corbet's Couloir—is still a rite of passage to expert ski/ride status. You can still earn a 100,000-foot pin. And, you can still venture into some of the continent's most exciting and scary out-of-bounds terrain.
Standing among the die-hards in the sub-zero wind chill on that tram-unveiling evening, it was obvious that replacing the tram, instead of installing more efficient uphill transport, was, in the end, a matter of the heart. This tram travels twice as fast as the old one, and carries nearly twice the passengers. It covers the largest single-ride vertical rise in North America. It's a high-tech marvel in its design and operation.
More than ever it represents Jackson Hole, past and present. Riding it remains a rite of passage in itself, as the only way to access the famed Rendezvous Bowl and some of the resort's gnarliest terrain. And it's cutting-edge technology and speed epitomizes the new Jackson, an upscale, state-of-the-art vacation destination.
by Mitch Kaplan
photos by Mitch Kaplan
I stood in a crowd of 2,000 at Jackson Hole Mountain Resort, waiting for the resort's new tram to be unveiled. It was dark. It was cold.
Nobody seemed to care.
A rock band played raucously. Kids and dogs ran free on the snow. A video-slide
production was projected on a temporary jumbotron screen. Crossed spotlights focused on the transport cable 100 feet overhead.Amidst the clamor I reflected on how much Jackson Hole has changed since I first skied here in the 1970s. And, how much remains the same.
Glory Days
I took my first western ski-week vacation here in 1970-something. I traveled with a couple of friends, lodged slopeside in what can only be described as a regular motel, and signed up for a five-day lesson package.
The resort sustained an unpretentiousness back then. Perhaps it had to. You could barely get there from anywhere. As I recall, we flew to Idaho Falls and rode a school bus for an hour or two.
I remember few specifics from that trip. The base area lodging was simple and relatively sparse. Unlike many of our peers, we'd stepped up to our motel-ish digs rather than stay at The Hostel. The Mangy Moose Bar was the raucous place-to-be for apres-ski. The town of Jackson offered a handful of eateries, shops and lodging.
The mountain itself? Huge. Intimidating. Exhilarating. Uphill transport included several slow chairlifts and a bright red 60-person tram that made you feel you were in the Alps. A ski school run by some guy named Pepi Stiegler, a 1964 slalom gold medal winner.I arrived as an advanced intermediate skier. Six days later I left as a low-expert who proudly possessed a 100,000 vertical feet pin, earned—yes—by having skied 100,000 vertical feet in one week.
Modern Times
The Jackson Hole I visited last year was very different. Primarily? The ambience has changed.
Gone is the predominant basic lodging. Yes, The Hostel is still there—and kudos to the place for maintaining a spot that's affordable and slopeside—but now the place is littered with upscale hostelries that include a Four Seasons Resort and the ultra-posh, private Teton Club. Even the old Super 8 has morphed into something called the Inn at Jackson, replete with sushi bar (and a good one it is, by the way).
I overnighted at Snake River Lodge & Spa. Recently renovated in what's called a "rustic elegance" style, it proved a far cry from my digs 30 years ago. And, I resided for one night at Hotel Terra, a poshly modern place that's LEED-certified.
(Read more about Snake River Lodge & Spa and Hotel Terra here.)
Unlike the old days, it seems that every lodging facility must now have a spa, a phenomenon I don't understand, but about which I'm willing to admit my ignorance.
The resort's dining, too, has gone upscale. Even on-mountain. (Dinner at Couloir, accessed from the Bridger Gondola had gained raves from Food and Wine and Conde Nast Traveler.
I dined at Snake River Lodge's gamefish, Teton Mountain Lodge's Cascade Restaurant and Hotel Terra’s Il Villaggio Osteria. Gamefish's specialties are beef and wapiti. Cascade has a more eclectic menu. Il Villaggio serves, you guessed it, Italian. All delicious, but oh my, pricey.
Just down the road, dinner was devoured at a new eatery, Q Roadhouse, where the prices came back to earth a bit, the atmosphere was brick-walls and peanut-shells-on-the-floor funky, and offerings like grilled venison with Israeli couscous and shrimp jambalaya came in generous, delicious servings.
The facilities have changed, too, most notably the creation of a state-of-the-art kids' center to accommodate the increasing number of families who are coming here. It's impressive, that facility; it's just conjures a contrast to the mountain's daredevil reputation.
Not that I'm complaining, mind you. I've reached an age where I've earned a little comfort. I just wondered if this Jackson Hole had lost its soul to the monied few.
Tradition
In a word? No.
Three years and $31 million were required to replace the tram. It’s fair to ask why undertake the expense, considering that a pair of gondolas would have cost much less.
Pose that question and you discover that Jackson Hole is more than a bunch of lifts and
trails on a seriously steep mountain. You discover that traditions here run deep. "This is real big mountain skiing," I was told by Ted Curtin of Rocky Mountain Tours, a Jackson aficionado and my traveling companion on this trip. "The tram represents what Jackson Hole is all about. It’s more than a piece of machinery to these people. It’s a symbol. And it’s vital to the resort’s ability to attract visitors."
So, tradition does survive. You can still experience a classic ski week here, with lifts, lessons and lodging. To ski the hill's major challenges—The Hogbacks, Corbet's Couloir—is still a rite of passage to expert ski/ride status. You can still earn a 100,000-foot pin. And, you can still venture into some of the continent's most exciting and scary out-of-bounds terrain.
Standing among the die-hards in the sub-zero wind chill on that tram-unveiling evening, it was obvious that replacing the tram, instead of installing more efficient uphill transport, was, in the end, a matter of the heart. This tram travels twice as fast as the old one, and carries nearly twice the passengers. It covers the largest single-ride vertical rise in North America. It's a high-tech marvel in its design and operation.
More than ever it represents Jackson Hole, past and present. Riding it remains a rite of passage in itself, as the only way to access the famed Rendezvous Bowl and some of the resort's gnarliest terrain. And it's cutting-edge technology and speed epitomizes the new Jackson, an upscale, state-of-the-art vacation destination.
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