Celestial solitude in the Tetons

I tried not to feel uncharitably smug as I watched the nightly weather forecast: Grand Targhee would get a foot of new snow overnight. Jackson Hole? Nothing -- again.

Wyoming’s Grand Targhee is a ski resort few people have heard of and even fewer have skied. That’s because it’s overshadowed by its larger, wealthier, more extreme-ski cousin, Jackson Hole, an hour’s drive to the east over 8,000-foot Teton Pass.

Grand Targhee is on the western side of the Teton Range in the Rocky Mountains, in the blink-and-miss-it town of Alta. The nearest airport is near Jackson, and to reach Targhee from there you have to drive over the pass into the gentrifying town of Driggs, Idaho, then turn right and re-enter Wyoming.

Set below the majestic 13,770-foot Grand Teton, Targhee has staggering scenery -- it’s just backward if you know Jackson Hole well. But the real beauty of being on the backside -- the western slopes -- of the Tetons is that Targhee averages more natural snow annually.

Jackson gets around 400,000 skiers a season; Targhee hosts 155,000.

You won’t see many Bogner suits at Grand Targhee. It’s my favorite small, family ski resort, but it’s about to become not so small. George Gillett, owner of Northstar-at-Tahoe and Sierra-at-Tahoe, bought it in 1997, and he has big plans for Targhee.

The master plan calls for building 875 new accommodation units over 20 years, demolishing existing visitor housing, and building condos, town homes, log cabins, luxury houses, lodges and a boutique hotel. The resort will add three high-speed quad lifts and restaurants, bars, retail shops, pools and spa facilities. Although Targhee is awaiting final approval, building is set to begin in summer 2007.

“Even with the expansion, we will never lose the intimate, family-friendly focus of Targhee,” says Larry Williamson, general manager of the resort. “We’ll work hard to maintain the feel it’s always had.”

When it comes to development, I usually am the first to gripe. But in Targhee’s case it will be an enhancement. Although it has world-class snow and a “Leave It to Beaver” wholesome atmosphere, there are only four lifts, and the accommodations -- comfortable but 1970s-era family apartments -- sorely need updating.

But you can tell by talking to him that Williamson doesn’t want to see the place lose its laid-back mentality. The Cleavers will always be welcome at Targhee.

When my family and I spent Christmas week at Targhee last year, we were seduced by the ease of the place.

Take the ski school, for example. My daughters, then ages 5 and 6, learned to ski like demons here. They had skied before at larger, big-name resorts, but at those places the ski schools were crawling with competitive kids, pushy parents and aloof instructors. By the time we had wrestled our kids into their ski suits, kitted them with skis and boots, shoved on the gloves and hats, dealt with the staff’s uncaring attitude, queued up to do the paperwork, and handed our beloved offspring to a twenty-something instructor who looked hung over, we were so wrung out we felt as though we needed a double martini and a lie-down.

At Targhee, the process was shockingly tranquil. We rose at the reasonable hour of 8 a.m., ate and dressed at a leisurely pace, walked the short distance from Sioux Lodge, where we stayed, to the ski school. There we were met by an instructor who seemed genuinely enthusiastic about skiing with our children.

Targhee’s other advantage is its affordability. Skiing is a costly sport to start, and when you add in kids, the bottom line becomes gobsmackingly expensive.

The average price for a daylong lesson at ski school during a school holiday is $130 at large ski resorts. At Targhee it’s $80. Adult lift tickets average $65 at larger resorts. They’re $55 at Targhee. Right there you’ve saved $60.

The big empty

ON our first morning, my husband, Greg, and I bolted for the Dreamcatcher lift, heading to the 10,000-foot summit.

As promised, it had snowed a foot of pure powder overnight, and the view from the top was cobalt sky and snow-tipped forest, a canvas for the jagged, stately peaks of the Grand Tetons.

Even though it was the Christmas holidays, there were few people on the hill and no crowds at the lifts. The reason, we were told, is that the skiers among the 7,000 people who live in Teton Valley think the slopes are crowded on public holidays so they stay home.

And though the resort has “pillows” for 440 people, it rarely has more than 325 occupied at any one time. Even when you add day-trippers, Targhee’s commodious 2,000 acres of lift-served terrain mean a good deal of wide-open space.

The snow was knee-high, as light as fairy dust. We hopped in and out of the trees, floating through untracked snow until noon, occasionally seeing other skiers.

Anyone who has skied Alta in Utah, Whistler in British Columbia or Aspen in Colorado knows that finding fresh snow that hasn’t been chunked up early by powder pigs is a near miracle -- and finding skiers who aren’t trying to run you over to get there first is unheard of.

But that’s how I came to view Targhee -- as some lost-in-time phenomenon where people seemed gleeful in that clean-living, Eisenhower-era kind of way.

Adrenaline junkies who typically ski Jackson say the downside of Targhee is its mostly blue, intermediate runs. But, as a reasonably seasoned skier, I found the steep blues plenty challenging. Only 20% of the runs are black diamonds, but with names such as “The Ugly” and “Nasty Gash,” there’s plenty to keep the fearless occupied.

Recognizing that I could use a refresher in powder skiing, I booked two private lessons with Mark Hanson, the ski-school director. He’s tall and easygoing with a great sense of humor, and he had me skiing through the trees on concealed runs I wouldn’t have found by myself. After two exhausting three-hour lessons, I knew the mountain like a local and was skiing better than I ever had. (Each three-hour lesson cost $175; at Jackson, I would have paid $345.)

Targhee is one of the few American resorts that offers snow-cat skiing, taking skiers several times a day to the top of an out-of-bounds wilderness area in a 10-seat, tank-like vehicle so they can ski down. The appeal is long, empty runs, untracked snow and fresh terrain.

I couldn’t try it because I had to collect the kids from ski school at 3 p.m. But Greg went with friends and reported access to steep bowls and tree-skiing and that the solitude and serenity of those 1,000 remote acres also were magnificent.

In Targhee’s development plan, cat skiing will be moved to another location and replaced with three more chairlifts. People like me are delighted at the prospect of lift access to more area. But if you ask the old-timers, they mutter unhappily about losing their old habitat.

Back at ski school, our daughters had been duped into learning quick turns by being led through the Harry Potter-esque “Eyeball Forest.” Nailed to trees were large pictures of eyes.

“Head for the eyeballs,” Sofia, 5 years old and now an expert, instructed me. “Turn before you hit the tree. No, no, not like that. Like this.”

There was also North Pole Park, with diminutive jumps and rails for aspiring die-hards. Going over one jump, 6-year-old Indigo left the ground all of 12 inches and was neon with pride. Afterward, she swaggered off the slopes chatting with a boy in her class, miniature skis slung over her shoulder, goggles pushed back on head.

Greg and I had a glimpse of the future: Indigo as a teenager with a pack of pimply “shredder” boys trailing her.

“Perhaps,” Greg said dryly, “she ought to keep her skis on the ground.”

The following morning, we woke to snow falling softly, silently. I had booked a dog-sled ride -- a lifelong dream -- and the thought of mushing in a snowfall made it seem all the more romantic. Indigo and I walked through the trees, following the sound of frantic barking and finding eight Alaskan racing huskies, already harnessed and jumping to head off.

After covering us with blankets and strapping us deep into the sled, our musher, Loren Bell, yelled to the sensible, subdued female lead dog, who broke into a run across a snow-covered field, dragging the yapping male dogs behind her.

The aspens flew past, the snow hissed beneath us, and the sled angled sharply when we cornered. Halfway though the ride, Loren asked whether I wanted to try driving, standing at the back. I stood in front of him, balancing on what were alarmingly narrow rails, the dogs in front sprinting.

Sofia, who had not wanted to come on the ride, was later furious she had missed the action. To compensate, we took the resort’s sleigh-ride dinner that evening.

We piled into a contraption driven by genuine, Stetson-wearing cowboy Paul Martin and powered by two behemoth plow horses, which galloped through the Caribou-Targhee National Forest.

They delivered us to a snowbound yurt that glowed like a specter in the still wilderness. Beside a blazing wood stove, we ate ribs and mashed potatoes, then waded through waist-high snow to return to the sleigh.

‘Powder hound’s paradise’

DURING the weeklong holiday, our daily routine was quickly established: ski school for the girls in the morning, then skiing as a family from 3 p.m. until the lifts closed at 4. Then we’d get into the heated pool and the hot tub, and Greg or I would sneak off for a sports massage at the Dreamcatcher Spa.

While we were at Targhee, 4 phenomenal feet of new snow were dumped on Targhee -- conveniently, most of it fell while we were sleeping. It was the lightest snow I had ever skied, and it was clear why skiers call Targhee a “powder hound’s paradise.”

As we packed the car to leave, Indigo said goodbye to four newfound friends from ski school and Sofia hugged her instructor. At the risk of sounding like June Cleaver, it almost felt as though we were leaving family.

World-class powder aside, that’s the real magic of Targhee.

*

The fun run

GETTING THERE:

From LAX, Delta, Alaska, Northwest and United have connecting service (change of plane) to Jackson Hole, Wyo. Restricted round-trip fares begin at $208.

To Idaho Falls, Idaho, Delta, Alaska, Continental and Northwest have connecting service. Restricted round-trip fares begin at $322.

WHERE TO STAY:

Sioux Lodge, (800) 827-4433, www.grandtarghee.com. We stayed in a Sioux Lodge studio because it came with a kitchen and living room and slept four people. These are the oldest of the accommodations, and they are nothing fancy. Studios $99-$179 a night or $519 for two adults for three nights, including two adult lift tickets a day for three days. Children 14 and younger ski and stay free.

Teewinot Lodge, (800) 827-4433, www.grandtarghee.com, has slope-side hotel rooms. Doubles $79-$159 a night. A three-night package, including two adult lift tickets a day for three days, $449 for two adults (kids 14 and younger stay and ski free).

Targhee Lodge, (800) 827-4433, www.grandtarghee.com. Doubles $59-$139 per night or $431 for a three-night package, including adult lift tickets for two people for three days, for two adults (kids 14 and younger stay and ski free).

WHERE TO EAT:

Targhee Steakhouse, (307) 353-2300, is the only upscale restaurant at the resort, serving braised lamb shank ($22) or Bagley Ranch elk chili ($18), with elk from a ranch in Teton Valley, among other things.

Warbirds Cafe, 675 Airport Road, Driggs, (adjacent to the aviation museum at the Driggs private airport); (208) 354-2550. Best fine dining in town, with dishes of filet mignon, elk medallions, red trout, duck breast. Entrees $15-$25.

Knotty Pine, 58 S. Main St., Victor; (208) 787-2866. Best casual fare around. American ribs, steaks, vegetarian, wasabi-dusted ahi tuna, burgers, rack of lamb, filet mignon, barbecue ribs (which are legendary). Entrees $8-$27.

TO LEARN MORE:

Wyoming Division of Tourism, Interstate 25 at College Drive, Cheyenne, WY 82002; (800) 225-5996 or (307) 777-7777, www.wyomingtourism.org.

-- Amanda Jones