Cary Smith

When I came to Jackson to interview for a job, I came in the winter. My car had more skis and boots than slacks and ties. As soon as I arrived, I knew that I had packed properly. I don't remember much about the interview, I just remember my last run on Glory Bowl. Knee-deep fluff with surface hoar twinkling in the sun and hissing under my skis as I looked down into the valley. I knew this would be my home.

I knew that I wanted to live in a ski town and no matter what the ads for other places may say, Jackson defines "ski town." Only here can I ride my bike to the ski area after work for some quick laps and then the next day ski terrain that will challenge the most experienced ski mountaineer.

Early every winter as the snow begins to cover the mountains I look around and see new lines that I want to ski, it seems to be endless. That's the beauty of Jackson, there is something for every day. I can decide to ski deep powder fields, cruise the groomers or scare myself silly on some of the most serious skiing in the US. It's hard to pick a favorite.

I recently met a newly-minted college graduate who just moved here with a couple buddies. The excitement in his voice as he told of his first view of Jackson Hole from Togwotee Pass,  the screaming deal he got on fat skis at the ski swap and how his first paycheck was already spent on an avalanche transceiver was contagious. It made me realize how fortunate I am to live in a place that elicits such glowing emotions.

They say that there are no friends on a powder day, but I disagree. Some of my best friendships have been forged on the deepest days. Nothing beats the sound of laughter at the bottom of an epic run as my friends and I look back up at our tracks, especially if my tracks were first!