Each morning, the ϳԹ staff meets to go over the day’s news, and a topic that comes up again and again is the housing crunch gripping mountain towns. Every week, it seems, a different mountain community or aimed at increasing the paltry number of low-cost dwellings. But nobody really knows how to make these towns affordable to crucial workers who live there: you know, ski lift operators, or a town’s
And then, a few times a year, a news story hits that makes us all wonder if the whole effort is an exercise in futility, and that every ski town, from Bozeman to Big Bear,is destined to become an enclave just for gazillionaires.
The latest: about a seven-story, 21,000-square-foot megamansion that’s about to hit the market in Park City, Utah.
The WSJ estimates that this gargantuan dwelling—which sits on 2.6 acres on the slopes of Deer Valley Resort—will list for $65 million, which would make it the most expensive in state history. Constructing the home required 60 full-time workers, the newspaperreports. The publication then quotes the executive who had the thing built, a financial-tech guy named Doug Bergeron.
“I think I personally increased the GDP of Utah,” Bergeron told the newspaper while laughing. Ha, indeed. TheJournaldidn’t ask Bergeron if the home’s spare bedrooms (there are seven in total) would be available for low-income renters during off-months.
But the price isn’t why this home has garnered so much attention. You see, this home has a private gondola. Yep, it’s a bona fideski gondola, mounted to an electric track. The private cabin whisks the owner to the top of nearby Bald Eagle Mountain, and from there, it’s just a short ride on a quad to visit Utah’s most famous landmark: the bunny slope where Gwyneth Paltrow collided with that grumpy optometrist.
Hitting the Market in Utah: A $65 Million Ski Home With a Gondola
— Randall Kammerman (@RandallK33)
As I read theJournal story, my emotions went on something akin to a gondola ride: I felt anger and resentment, and then yes, jealousy and finally grudging appreciation. My initial question (Why didn’t they build high-density, low-income condos there?) quickly gave way to an altogether different one(Does the gondola have heated seats and Bluetooth speakers?)
Passionate skiers are undoubtedly familiar with this cocktail of feelings—it’s the one you experience whenever a headline pops up about the Yellowstone Club, or some other private ski operation. Sure, the concept of ski experiences for the one percent is off-putting, but damn, you’d totally , if you could. It’s the skier’s version of this classic story in The Onion: .
Eventually, even I had to admit that I would absolutely love to zip around in a private ski gondola. You get to cut the line, you avoid those awkward chairlift conversations, and you generally get to act like a big-shot. But as I daydreamed about owning this garish ski house, I came up with a longer list of reasons why having your own gondola would absolutely slap.
For us plebeians, riding a ski resort gondola means adhering to a lengthy set of rules. But private gondolas do not have such regulations. And there’s a whole code of social norms you adhere to within a gondola that I assume would vaporize inside a private, rich-guy gondola.
So, here are ten things I would totally do in my personal gondola if I somehow acquire the financing to purchase the $65 million Utah mansion:
Bring my dog:Most resorts prohibit you to bring your canine on board a gondola—my home resort, Keystone, specifically forbids it. That’s not the case with my gondola! My nine-pound Schnauzer, Beau, is always welcome. Your dog can come, too.
Fart:If I’m rich enough to afford a $65 million house then I really don’t care if I pass gas in public. In fact, wealthy me probably loves the smell of my own flatulence.
Discuss politics: What’s worse than farting in a gondola? You guessed it: sharing your hot takes on the upcoming election. Too bad—if you ride in my private gondola, then you’re going to have to weather my opinions on national, state, and hyper-local politics. The town dogcatcher will never recover from my blistering critique.
Keep snow conditions to myself: Unofficial chairlift etiquette requires you to discuss the weather, traffic, and snow conditions with your lift-mates. The latter topic is paramount—if you’ve already done a few runs, you must divulge where the good snow is, and where it isn’t. This rule does not apply to riders on my private gondola, however. So, you can forget about me sharing my secret stash in Deadman’s Glades.
Leave my pole-straps ON:This ubiquitous rule that governs all chairlifts, surface lifts, and gondolas (remove your ski pole straps) no longer applies to me. So when I step into my gondola, my ski poles will be strapped to my wrists no matter how much clanging and fumbling it causes.
Horseplay:The rules for riding the chairlift at California’s Palisades Tahoe specifically forbid being a general nuisance: throwing stuff, pushing, and generally acting like a 11-year-old boy hopped up on Mountain Dew. On my gondola, however, horseplay is not only encouraged, it is required. So, when boarding, welcome to the Thunderdome.
Sleep overnight:Do you remember the poor gal who was trapped in a gondola at California’s Heavenly ski resort overnight? Well, I want to experience her plight—only in a heated gondola that’s connected to my mansion with plenty of heat, food, and booze.
Drink alcohol: Speaking of booze, drinking alcohol in a gondola is another across-the-board no-no at North American resorts, even if it’s rarely enforced. But my gondola will have a minibar, and happy hour goes ’round the clock.
Smoke marijuana:Look, I’m a lame suburban dad who wears imitation Crocs 24-7—my pot-smoking days are long behind me. But if I had access to my own gondola, you’d better believe I’d hotbox that thing. I cannot guarantee I’d actually make it to the slopes—especially if I had a pint of Cherry Garcia in my freezer and The Hunt for Red October on the cable box. But hey, if I get too high to actually exit my gondola, I can simply ride it back to my living room.
Swing and bounce: Another cardinal sin for resorts—don’t swing or bounce the chairlift! I have no clue how to budge a gondola that’s mounted to a metal track, but I’d find a way. After all, in this scenario I’m rich, so the rules don’t apply to me!