The Ski-Town Fairytale, in so many words
Sam Morse breaks it down.
“No matter what, if you get an opportunity, don’t squander it by being normal.”
Hey reader,
I’m trying something new this week. Instead of me yakking for 1,500 words, I’m passing the pen to someone else to provide a different perspective on outdoor adventure and the remote work lifestyle.
Sam Morse recently published an excellent coffee table graphic novel, The Ski Town Fairytale, alongside Ryan Stolp. The book is a somewhat satirical but often serious look at living the ski bum dream. Followers of Teton Gravity Research may know Sam from his column, “The Bumion.”
I asked Sam for his take on how remote work impacts mountain communities, and why it is that so many people move in and out of the scene in these towns, with few making a permanent home — despite the adventure-first lifestyle.
Sam hones in on what I see as a primary factor that drives people away from living in mountain towns and frames it in a way that’s the best I’ve heard. He also offers valid advice on landing knowledge work when you touch down in a ski town.
Here’s what I took away from Sam:
Working remotely opens up the possibility of living where one wants. But before packing up and settling down somewhere new, it’s important to consider the impact that your presence will have on the community.
This is all-encompassing — remote knowledge workers tend to make salaries commensurate with big-city professional life, and by moving to a small town whose economy is built around tourism and the service sector, higher incomes coming in are likely to exacerbate existing housing crunches and general affordability issues.
To push back from the other side, a knowledge worker arriving with the intention to make home and contribute to the local economy year-round is far better than a second-home owner constructing a McMansion in the hills to spend the holidays in. Or another luxury timeshare project gobbling up the limited amount of available land in a town center that desperately needs affordable housing for its workers.
This conversation is full-throttle in Colorado, where I live, and seemingly in mountain towns the world over.
I’ll let Sam take it from here, after the high-fives, of course.
Community Shoutouts
First, an exciting announcement — Mountain Remote has a new website. Since launching in January, I’ve wanted to set up a landing page at mountainremote.com to boost the SEO of this newsletter and provide a funnel to get more subscribers through organic search. A few months ago I was approached (via LinkedIn) by The Free Website Guys, who offered to build out a basic site for me, provided I apply and stand out amongst a pool of applicants. This site is the result of their efforts! I plan to tweak it on an ongoing basis, but it’s there — and that’s worth a toast.
Welcome to the 12 new subscribers over the past week! Happy to have you — I hope this week’s dispatch gets you psyched for the snow to start flying.
Yesterday, Bill McKibben published an excellent post on his Substack, The Crucial Years, discussing the loss of wildlife diversity that the planet has suffered over the past half-century. It’s worth a read, and despite the somber topic, offers a glimmer of hope.
Now, let’s pass the pen.
Mountain Remote: Give me a little background on you – where you live, when you fell in love with ski town life, fav place to ski, and the background on your book Fairytale.
Sam Morse: I currently live in Salt Lake City, but I’ve lived all over the West — Durango, Tahoe, Oregon, Washington, Tetons, China (really far west).
I fell in love with ski-town life (powder snowboarding) at Wolf Creek Ski Area during my freshman year of college. I didn’t get into snowsports until then, so those first deep turns were such a game-changer. Then I started river guiding and dirtbagging and the rest was a natural trajectory from there.
Best pow day ever? Silverton. Top all-time? A tossup between Kirkwood and Jackson. But honestly, PowMow is pretty sick on the right day (actually, never mind, it sucks).
(Tim here, cutting in to confirm that you should never go to Powder Mountain – the cat-accessed pow runs definitely aren’t epic and the resort’s skier-first vibe and affordable beers are just too much to handle).
The irony is, I write a lot about ski-town life, but I’m actually a snowboarder. The culture is largely the same. Maybe that’s why I have an ax to grind — skiers are just so damn pleased with themselves, haha.
My book, The Ski Town Fairytale, is written as a love letter to those who bemoan the gradual eroding of our ski town cultures. It’s also a universal plea for people to put down their phones and enjoy outdoor adventures for their own sake, not as a means to produce content, gain followers, or build a brand. The Dream is not in your phone, it’s what happens when you put down your phone — despite what FOMO culture would have you believe.
The Bumion is hilarious, anything you haven’t touched on in that column or other writing that you want to?
The Bumion, while fun to write, was a cheap play to the algorithm. It worked because it tapped universal truths that people could project themselves onto. Unfortunately, it worked for the same reasons that outrage content and disinformation work, by tapping into people’s emotions and exploiting those for the benefit of engagement and clickability. However, I know it makes a lot of people laugh, so I don’t regret creating it, but it’s very much a relic of those heady days of social media during the 2010s.
My disaffection with clickbait and digital content overall is ultimately what compelled me to write The Ski Town Fairytale. I was tired of only being as good as my last piece of content. When, as a creator, you rise and fall with the success of every article, every post, you set yourself up for a lot of misery. It can be a wildly unpleasant ride.
Let’s say Reader A is moving to Summit County and has a background in digital media – copywriting, freelance gigs, email campaigns, that sort of stuff. What’s the best way for Reader A to network around town and find some potential clients?
First of all, Reader A — don’t move to Summit. But for real, wherever you land, especially if you’re young and just starting out, VOLUNTEER. Do an internship and prove your worth. Getting your foot in the door is only the first step. You have to do something that others aren’t doing, to prove your creative value. Innovate, refine methods, produce in such a way that the team above you has to take notice. Be better than those that came before you or do something they didn’t think of.
Once you drive results, people start seeing you and what you bring to the table. If you just want to show up and aggregate video content, you probably won’t be that successful. Because everyone already does that. No matter what, if you get an opportunity, don’t squander it by being normal.
Housing shortages are a big topic of discussion in a lot of ski towns right now. For someone considering moving into the mountains, what advice do you have regarding finding an affordable place to live?
Again, this lifestyle skews toward the young. Honestly, at this point, affordability is kinda out the window — at least if you have any expectation of comfort or privacy.
The only way to make it affordable is to have a ton of roommates or live in staff housing. Because, the truth is, camping all summer sucks after a few weeks, and much of what’s left are feelings of insecurity and literal homelessness.
I don’t know why, but younger people have a higher tolerance for bullshit living accommodations: the places I’d squat, crash and stay at in my 20s were horrific in retrospect. Like, really sketchy. Living out of a Honda, overstaying welcomes on people’s couches — not a great way to live.
What are some commonly overlooked aspects that people moving from cities or from across the country often fail to consider before posting up in the mountains?
Although I’ve always loved mountain towns, they can be lonely.
Spending months and years in a ski town is so different from visiting because you have time to cycle through all of the bars, restaurants, and establishments. But when you’ve been grinding it out over a nine-month winter and you’ve hit each of the same 11 places to eat over and over, it gets old.
And that lack of options transcends well into other facets of life: the dating pool, evening recreation, which hot tub to poach(?), etc. All you’re left with in a mountain town are the confines of man, and what’s beyond.
Making it in an expensive mountain town tests most people. Unless you have independent means, like a trust fund or a big bag of money, at some point, you’ll have the option of doing something you don’t want to do to stay. Like taking a shitty apartment/bedroom, or taking a service job that has nothing to do with your degree.
You’ll ask yourself: “Is living here worth this sacrifice?” And for a long time, it is. Until it isn’t.
What is overhyped about living in ski towns, that isn’t necessarily true or accurate?
It’s definitely not all cocaine, supermodels, and hot tubs. Or maybe I was just never invited to that party? : (
A lot of people come into ski towns and stay for a year or three, and then bounce. What separates those that actually make it in a ski town and stay long-term?
I’ve thought a lot about this. Some people have a hunger for more. More growth, more success, more travel, more opportunity, more whatever.
The folks who do ski towns the best are good at ignoring the “more” impulse in humans — with the exception of powder turns. Of the people I know who still live in ski towns, the happiest ones are pretty content with their plot in life, for good or ill.
However, the Jury’s still not in on how those people will age into the fact that they never cultivated a career or did much else than get rad and enjoy nature (which, to be fair, sounds pretty nice).
My deepest issue with ski town living was, year after year, I wasn’t progressing in any meaningful way. That got old and I wanted to grow, but it might be the case that some people find ways to achieve that in the small-town Perpetua of our mountain communities.
Do you see remote workers playing a role in the future of mountain towns, and how so?
Of course, remote work is exacerbating the deep-seated issues that make it tough to afford and find a place to live. Because, who wouldn’t want to make a six-figure tech salary, but take pow laps every morning? That’s the dream.
But when you pair the economic firepower of those white-collar workers against a struggling ski town service sector that can barely find a place to park, the struggle deepens and multiplies.
Mountain Remote news and further reading
Colorado has a new national monument, and it’s an ode to the 10th Mountain Division. Camp Hale-Continental Divide National Monument was inaugurated this week, and I reported on it for Matador Network.
The digital nomad geniuses behind Coworking Bansko are developing a coliving residence in the Bulgarian mountains, and you can own a condo for as little as $18,000.
It’s officially puffy jacket season. I reviewed the Cotopaxi Fuego, and I’m still wearing it every day.
Thanks for reading, see you next week!