For the past twenty years, a group of friends and I have shared an annual ritual. A ski trip.
Somehow it has survived careers, kids, moves, and the general chaos of life.
Each year, we pick a mountain, pack our skis, and disappear into the mountains for a few days.
Over time, that tradition has taken us to ski towns all over the world — from the Alps in Switzerland and Austria to the mountains of Montana and Colorado, and this year to Canada.
One of the best parts of these trips is discovering new places along the way. This year, the destination was Revelstoke.
Revelstoke has a reputation among skiers. Deep snow. Huge vertical. Endless terrain.
But this year, like much of North America, the season was a bit different.
Snow conditions were inconsistent across many ski regions. Resorts around Lake Tahoe struggled through long, dry stretches, Mount Shasta Ski Park in Northern California ended its season after two months, and even major destinations like Vail suffered from a lack of snow.
It was also a stark reminder that a ski town's economy rests on one unpredictable variable.
Snow.
If winters become shorter or less reliable, it affects tourism, restaurants, jobs, and eventually real estate.
The value of a ski home is tied to a simple promise: winter will come.
After a career studying cities and real estate, you start to notice patterns in places, and ski towns are some of the most interesting.
Ski towns can be strange places.
Most begin the same way. Small, rugged communities built for the people who live there — loggers, mechanics, ski bums, lift operators.
Then something happens.
The mountain becomes famous.
Word spreads. The snow is deeper. The terrain is better. Suddenly, the town that once belonged to locals begins to belong to the world.
Investors arrive. Developers arrive. Tourists arrive. Property values rise. Restaurants get better. Hotels get nicer.
And slowly, success starts to smudge the very thing that created it.
The ski instructor can’t afford to live there anymore. The bartender moves forty minutes away. The mechanic who fixed everyone’s truck for thirty years sells his house.
That’s the paradox: the better the place becomes, the harder it is to keep it the same.
And some towns manage to hold on to their character longer than others.
Revelstoke feels like one of those places. Long before it became known for skiing, it was a working railroad and forestry town, and that history still gives the place a different kind of authenticity.
One quirky detail you notice quickly in Revelstoke — the town is filled with Australians!
They come for the snow and the chance to work the winter season, and they are now a part of the rhythm of the place. Running lifts, bartending, working in restaurants, and helping keep the town moving through its busiest months.
We met one of these bartenders when we wandered into a small place called Monashee Spirits Craft Distillery. A tiny family-run distillery and cocktail bar producing its own spirits using local ingredients and mountain spring water. The place was local, authentic, and very unexpected. A standout.
My favorite ski towns are those that manage to grow while still holding on to their original spirit. Places like Revelstoke and Telluride.
The hotels may be nicer, the restaurants better, and the real estate more valuable. But the town still feels authentic.
They seem to have solved the ski town paradox.
Because the real challenge for a ski town isn’t attracting people.
(The mountains take care of that).
The challenge is holding on to the character that made the place worth discovering in the first place.
Let’s do this!
Shaun