For decades, the worlds of skiing and snowboarding have navigated a complex relationship, deeply intertwined by shared terrain, technological innovation, and a mutual appreciation for mountain sport, yet often overshadowed by remnants of an old rivalry that, for some, refuses to fully dissipate. This enduring tension recently resurfaced with surprising intensity, catalyzed by an Instagram post from snowboarding icon Jeremy Jones, sparking a public exchange that has reignited conversations about tradition, exclusivity, and the evolving definition of mountain culture.
The Catalyst: A Snowboarding Icon on Skis
The incident began earlier this week when Jeremy Jones, widely revered as one of the most influential big-mountain snowboarders of all time and a prominent environmental advocate through his organization Protect Our Winters, shared a series of videos on his Instagram account. These videos captured Jones, known almost exclusively for his snowboarding prowess, on skis—an activity he revealed he hadnied not engaged in for at least 15 years. The unexpected shift came about during a mountain outing where his companions, skiers Kai Jones (his son) and Owen Smith, opted for snowboards, leading Jeremy and Cass Jones to click into skis.
What might have been dismissed as a casual, experimental session quickly transcended its novelty. Jones used the moment to articulate a broader philosophy, labeling the experience "cross-pollination." He elaborated on this term, defining it as "A sharing or interchange of knowledge, ideas, etc., as for mutual enrichment." His post underscored a long-held personal belief: mountain partners should be chosen based on attitude and shared passion, not the specific equipment they use. He passionately argued that both skiing and snowboarding have profoundly influenced each other’s progression, not only in terms of gear development but also in terrain interpretation, riding styles, and overall mountain navigation, making modern mountain sports what they are today.
The Provocation and Deer Valley’s Response
Jones then introduced a provocative statistic that shifted the tone of the conversation: "Out of 6,000 ski resorts worldwide, only 3 still ban snowboarding." He explicitly tagged these remaining bastions of ski-only policy: Alta in Utah, Mad River Glen in Vermont, and Deer Valley Resort, also in Utah.
The direct challenge prompted a swift and public response from Deer Valley Resort in the comments section of Jones’s post. Their statement read: "We have a deep respect for everyone who shares a passion for the mountains. Since 1981, Deer Valley has proudly remained a ski-only resort, and that tradition continues to be part of what makes the experience here unique."
The Paradox of Tradition: A Sharpened Point
Deer Valley’s comment, though polished and respectful, and likely intended to de-escalate the burgeoning discussion, inadvertently amplified Jones’s underlying critique. The irony was palpable: a legendary snowboarder embraces skiing, celebrating the virtues of "cross-pollination" and mutual enrichment between the sports, while a ski-only resort responds by steadfastly defending a policy of "separation" and exclusivity.
Jones’s initial post resonated deeply because it was far from an anti-skiing diatribe. Instead, it read as a heartfelt tribute to the sport, an open appreciation from a celebrated snowboarder for the distinct sensations, historical legacy, and alternative perspectives that skiing offers on the mountain. His subsequent response to Deer Valley was equally non-combative. He thanked the resort for the implied invitation to ski there someday and posed a critical, yet genuinely curious, question: had Deer Valley ever truly experimented with allowing snowboarding on its slopes?
This simple inquiry highlighted a crucial point: it becomes challenging to assert that snowboarding would fundamentally diminish the "unique experience" of Deer Valley if the resort has never actually tested that hypothesis. Without direct experience, such claims often rest on unexamined assumptions or inherited traditions rather than empirical observation.
A Brief History of the Ski-Snowboard Divide
To fully appreciate the gravity of this debate, it’s essential to understand the historical context of the ski-snowboard divide. Snowboarding, emerging in the 1960s and gaining significant traction in the 1980s, was initially viewed with skepticism and outright hostility by many in the established skiing community. Early snowboarders were often perceived as rebellious, disruptive, and even dangerous, frequently associated with counter-culture movements.
This perception led to widespread bans at ski resorts across North America and Europe. Resort owners, catering to a predominantly older, more affluent ski clientele, feared that the "new" sport would deter their traditional customers, damage their manicured slopes, and introduce safety hazards. The first resorts to open their slopes to snowboarding in the early 1980s, such as Stratton Mountain in Vermont, were often pioneers in a highly resistant industry.
Over the subsequent decades, a gradual but decisive shift occurred. As snowboarding’s popularity exploded, driven by youth culture, Olympic recognition (starting at the 1998 Nagano Games), and the emergence of mainstream stars, resorts began to recognize its economic potential. The vast majority lifted their bans, realizing that embracing snowboarders meant tapping into a growing market segment and ensuring the future vitality of the winter sports industry. Today, globally, estimates suggest that over 99% of ski resorts welcome both skiers and snowboarders, making the remaining three—Alta, Mad River Glen, and Deer Valley—distinct anomalies.
The Era of Cross-Pollination and Mutual Evolution
Jones’s concept of "cross-pollination" is not merely poetic; it accurately reflects the symbiotic evolution of modern mountain culture. Far from remaining separate entities, skiing and snowboarding have continuously borrowed from and inspired each other, leading to innovations that have benefited both sports.
- From Snowboarding to Skiing: Snowboarding significantly influenced skiing’s freestyle progression. The emphasis on aerial tricks, park features, and jibbing, initially pioneered by snowboarders, was quickly adopted by skiers, leading to the rise of freeskiing and twin-tip skis. Snowboarding’s fluid, surf-inspired riding style also impacted how skiers read and navigate natural terrain, fostering a more creative and less rigid approach to carving and powder riding. Even the aesthetic and film culture of snow sports, with its emphasis on raw, unedited footage and relatable narratives, owes much to early snowboarding media.
- From Skiing to Snowboarding: Conversely, snowboarding absorbed crucial influences from skiing, particularly in areas like mountaineering, avalanche safety, and big-mountain expedition riding. The structured approach to backcountry travel, snow science, and advanced technical ascents, honed over decades by skiers, provided a critical framework for snowboarders venturing into more extreme terrain. Ski mountaineering techniques and equipment adaptations, such as splitboards (allowing snowboarders to "ski" uphill), demonstrate a direct absorption of ski technology and methodology.
This mutual exchange has fostered a richer, more dynamic mountain experience for all. Jones’s decision to ski for a day, therefore, did not feel controversial to most contemporary snow sports enthusiasts. It felt natural, even honest—a reflection of mountain people simply appreciating diverse perspectives and the full spectrum of snow sliding experiences.
The Remaining Bastions: Alta, Mad River Glen, and Deer Valley
The three resorts that maintain ski-only policies—Alta, Mad River Glen, and Deer Valley—each have their distinct histories and rationales, which typically revolve around preserving a specific brand identity, tradition, and perceived quality of experience.
- Alta, Utah: Known for its legendary deep powder and challenging terrain, Alta positions itself as a purist’s ski mountain. Its proponents often argue that banning snowboards helps preserve the natural snow surface, which they claim is damaged by snowboard edges, and ensures a traditional, "skier-centric" atmosphere.
- Mad River Glen, Vermont: Famous for its "Ski It If You Can" motto and its cooperative ownership, Mad River Glen prides itself on its untouched, natural terrain and old-school charm. Its ski-only policy is deeply ingrained in its identity, often framed as a commitment to its unique ethos and a preference for traditional skiing techniques over what they perceive as the more disruptive style of snowboarding.
- Deer Valley, Utah: As a luxury, high-end resort, Deer Valley cultivates an image of meticulous grooming, exceptional service, and an exclusive ambiance. Its rationale for banning snowboards often centers on maintaining a "quieter" and "more controlled" environment, catering to a clientele that ostensibly prefers the traditional ski experience and perceives snowboarding as potentially disruptive or less refined. The resort’s focus on pristine corduroy and an uncrowded feel is central to its premium brand.
Economic and Demographic Implications
The debate over inclusivity extends beyond mere tradition and touches upon significant economic and demographic considerations for resorts. While ski-only resorts cater to a specific, often affluent and loyal, demographic, they also potentially exclude a large and growing segment of the winter sports market.
Industry trends indicate a continuous growth in snowboard participation, particularly among younger demographics. By maintaining bans, these resorts may inadvertently limit their long-term growth potential and alienate future generations of mountain enthusiasts. Conversely, proponents of exclusivity might argue that their niche market strategy allows them to command premium prices and maintain a distinct brand identity that appeals precisely because it is exclusive. The question then becomes whether the perceived value of exclusivity outweighs the potential benefits of broader market appeal and community engagement.
The Core Debate: Preserving Character vs. Preserving Exclusion
At the heart of this entire conversation lies a fundamental philosophical question: Is tradition being invoked to genuinely preserve a mountain’s unique character, or is it being used, perhaps inadvertently, to perpetuate a form of exclusion? There is a critical distinction between safeguarding a mountain’s inherent identity—its terrain, its snow, its natural beauty—and dictating who is permitted to participate in experiencing it.
Jones’s actions and subsequent challenge hit a nerve because he wasn’t criticizing skiing from an outsider’s perspective. He was actively participating in it, enjoying it, and demonstrating a profound appreciation for its unique qualities. Yet, even from this position of genuine engagement, he was still compelled to ask why this spirit of openness and mutual respect doesn’t extend both ways—why resorts that celebrate skiing cannot, or choose not to, extend the same welcome to snowboarding.
Implications for the Future of Snow Sports
The exchange initiated by Jeremy Jones, a seemingly simple act of a professional snowboarder trying skis, has brought into sharp focus the ongoing evolution of mountain culture. The best aspects of this culture have historically emerged not from rigid adherence to purity, but from the dynamic collision and synthesis of diverse elements: skiers, snowboarders, surfers, climbers, filmmakers, racers, and backcountry enthusiasts constantly borrowing from one another, pushing boundaries, and collectively reshaping how individuals interact with the snowy landscape.
This incident underscores that the debate about inclusivity is far from settled. It challenges resort operators and the wider snow sports community to critically examine their policies and traditions. Are these policies rooted in valid, contemporary concerns, or are they relics of an outdated rivalry that no longer serves the broader interests of mountain recreation?
Ultimately, Jeremy Jones’s moment on skis was a powerful symbolic act. It should have been a small, lighthearted, and inherently human moment of curiosity and exploration. Instead, it inadvertently exposed the persistent vitality of a debate that questions the very nature of belonging in the mountains. Sometimes, all it takes to highlight the strangeness or anachronism of a perceived barrier is to witness someone casually, joyfully, and openly step over it, prompting everyone else to reconsider why the wall was there in the first place. This conversation is not just about skis versus snowboards; it’s about the future of mountain community, accessibility, and the shared passion that unites all who seek exhilaration on snow.
