At the same time, my distaste for mountains with a hardcore “industrial tourism” angle went merrily on.
Last season, this issue reared its head again while I nervously eyed travelers at the Jackson, Wyo. airport waiting for their suitcases and ski bags. Some had thick New York or Boston accents; others sounded like they were from Texas. Several were wearing expensive, brand new ski coats and accessories, while a few had mended their fraying garments with duct tape. Two older, prosperous-looking men were wearing floor-length fur coats and pointed cowboy boots like celebrity lawyer Gerry Spence. Different ages, clothes, body types, and socioeconomic levels, but the one thing this disparate group of people had in common was that most, if not all, were there to worship at the world-famous ski cathedral Jackson Hole Mountain Resort.