As our gondola cabin flies past the third tower, the Columbia Valley comes into focus to the south. North America’s second-longest river winds along banks already turning green in the spring sun while a bounty of late-season powder awaits in the alpine. It looks like a fantasy landscape. “This is why we live here,” a spry fellow in his 50s says, shooting me a knowing wink. He gets it: there’s no competition here, no glitz, no glam. It’s just us and the mountains—an unvarnished, di...
