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"SURVIVOR" TO"SWAN":
Crested Butte puts reality TV to shame
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MT. CRESTED BUTTE, CO--Imagine if the reality TV shows were set in Crested Butte: What would Paris Hilton wear to Poo Fest, Crested Butte's post-winter canine cleanup and street party?
Reality TV takes various human beings and puts them in unexpected circumstances to see what will happen. Hmmm… Crested Butte does the same thing.
Crested Butte is not normal; it is a pocket of quirky humanity with a great ski resort in a daunting wilderness. Crested Butte does not have teeming, anonymous masses; it has famed Hollywood director Ed Zwick rubbing elbows with Tuck, toothless mountain man locally famed as a hunter, horseman and bachelorette party headliner. Crested Butte is not the realm of disengaged eight-to-fivers killing time until they earn their gold watches; it is where painter Shaun Horne backpacks his giant canvases deep into the wilderness to capture its beauty plein air. Where former Yale swim team captain Janae Pritchett teaches her high school students as passionately as she conquers the alpine, telemark and snowboarding extremes. Crested Butte inspires and stretches the people who come here.
Hmmm… Crested Butte puts reality TV to shame. Just think….
"Survivor." How many "Survivor" alums could make it through a year in Crested Butte? First they'd face the isolation of the seemingly idyllic setting: no drive-throughs, no stoplights, four hours to the nearest Nordstroms. Then the environmental stresses: eight months of winter, seven months of income. Then the physical stresses, like the temptation to enter the Elk Mountains Grand Traverse, skiing 40 miles in the dead of night over two harrowing wilderness passes, to greet the new day by slinging themselves down the slopes of Aspen Mountain on wobbly backcountry gear. And finally the cultural stresses of small-town life, the gauntlet of volunteerism pleas, the ceaseless celebrations, and the neighborly produce-aisle discussions that inevitably spring up when you run in to grab a last-minute dinner item.
Of course, for some Crested Butte locals, every day is an episode of "Survivor." Team Crested Butte's world-class adventure racers might kayak some whitewater, navigate the wilderness at a dead-out run and bike up a mountain or two… then go eat breakfast.
"Real World." In some ways, Crested Butte is "Real World," mountain community style. Most of us chose to come here for the place, certainly not career advancement. We came from different backgrounds and beliefs to this small community in the middle of nowhere. Now we're stuck with each other. The Republican, Democrat and Libertarian collaborating on the PTA cookbook. The prep-cook environmentalist next up to bat after the "new urbanism" developer. What feisty interactions the camera might capture. But if one of us gets sick, injured or otherwise slammed by fate, we know how to be the best of what community means.
"Project Runway." Crested Butte's version is Project Costume, as week after week resourceful people scramble to design outfits worthy of the next dress-up event. Might be the Al Johnson Memorial Uphill Downhill Telemark Ski Race, in which giant hot dogs and sinking Titanics splatter themselves across the slopes. Or the Alley Loop 42-kilometer Nordic marathon, during which Sponge Bob Square Pants might edge past an apparent lady of ill repute in a final lung-bursting sprint to the finish line. In some ways, the Crested Butte costume design process is trickier than its runway counterpart, as the costume often must fit a lift op's budget, not hamper one's competitive edge, and be snowproof most months of the year. Business suits last a very long time in Crested Butte, but wigs wear out quickly.
"The Apprentice." Crested Butte hosts its own weekly episodes as people discover the mandatory volunteerism aspect of small-town life. Suddenly friends are vying for hawking turf in front of the post office on behalf of their respective worthy causes. Newly diversified housewives and retired CEOs brainstorm innovative ways to fund, organize and create arts programs, new library purchases or land conservation plans. Nonprofits make Crested Butte tick… and keep its collective gray matter sharp.
"The Swan." Crested Butte does this program in reverse. Instead of applying all possible methods to artificially enhance external appearance, Crested Butte invites people to turn their discriminating eyes toward deeper beauty. Fashion slaves first learn to humbly suffer hat head, to minimize makeup when skiing on heavy snow days, to nix the leg-elongating high heels in favor of Sorrels on icy evenings. Then Crested Butte's heavy doses of playfulness, openness and authenticity kick in, luring further attention away from externals. If the makeover subjects don't look hugely better, they at least feel and act that way.
"The Simple Life." Happens every day here, as city refugees eagerly jump into culture shock. A Florida widow learns to potty in the woods, and her girlfriends-of-a-certain-age applaud the milestone later around their campfire. With coaching from the teen next door, a boardroom whiz discovers how to handle a snow shovel as well as a hostile takeover attempt. A city kid overcomes Fear of Dirt and learns to play. People slow down and get real, or flee back to the superficial rat race.
"Extreme Makeover." For the ski resort version, see the accompanying releases on What's New and The Muellers and Crested Butte Mountain Resort. The soul's the same… but what a beautiful new face.
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Real Estate in the Crested Butte Valley
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