Jimmy Zell: The Original Ski Outlaw

   I was at the bottom of Granite Canyon.  Early 90’s, coming into the boulder fields, about to ‘git my way back to the Village.  Sun cracked sky.  Heaven, as I looked up steep pitch.  Came upon me was the swiftest, fastest skier I'd seen.  More similar to the natural athleticism of a wild animal.  A hawk with skis on.  Soaring vertically like water down a tremendous waterfall.  He ripped past me and was gone from sight.  I was standing in awe.  Crystallizing smoke filled sky disappeared into white.  JZ crushing Granite on a deep pow day.  I rubbed my eyes, pinched myself twice.  Yep, that was real.  I didn’t know this person then?  Only heard of JZ in stories.  Shit, until then I wasn’t sure he was even real?  Was now!  Saw him jump from the upper deck at the Mangy Moose onto the writhing crowd at a Fishbone show.  The lead singer Anthony, mic in hand, was crowd surfing.  His epileptic movements bouncing him around the room.  He was screeching out, ‘when I die, bury me in the mosh-pit’.  From the above floor, over the wooden rail came JZ onto the that mosh-pit madness.  Onto the unexpecting bodies of enthusiastic sweating dancing fans.  Legendary Jimmy Zell. 

    He taught me the Après Vous lift traverse.  I told my buddy Rooney about it.  Changed our days at the Village forever.  From that inspiration, Alan and I thought up some hilarious creative ways to ride at the village. The outlaw reality.  To ski wherever.  Regardless!  

   JZ is like a Van Gogh to me.  He is and was his art.  Skiing.  The original ski outlaw. Like the famous artist, a brilliant talented art original.  The art of ski movement.  Mountains his canvas and steep pitch his brush.   

   He showed me Chicken Scratch back in the day.  In the ole' days.  Back when Rooney and I post-holed to Bear Claws.  Nights later at the Coach, over tequila shots I bought, he told me to #$%@ off.  Who knows why?  I humbly took it.  JZ was a Jackson icon.  He did what he wanted most the time.  In those early days, before I got to know him better, I was half scared of Jimmy.  His piercing eyes like a wild animal would rate you or you’d immediately rate yourself?  Years later when I got to know him better; I was definitely half scared of him!  He was one of the wildest spirits I’ve met in ski country. 

    I was in Wilson.  He wanted to sell me some old Nordicas.  They were like hard basketball shoes.  Low profiled and stiff as hell.  ‘Ski with your feet’ he barked.  I didn’t buy the boots.  Remembered the advice forever.   

    I remember the phone call at basecamp that late WY summer.  We were on the couch inside.  C.R. picked up the line.  Kiwi was on the other end.  Jimmy had fallen.  Fallen hard while paragliding in Mexico.  Fallen far.  Weeks before when we’d seen them off, many in town wondered their fate?  Jimmy did what he wanted most of the time.  The truck looked like a fortress on wheels.  Adventure gear sticking out everywhere.  They were headed south of the 'borders'.  Latin syle.  Big adventures envisioned.  That changed, things changed, changes are the only things certain of life.

I’m looking at the JACKSON HOLE NEWS, Wednesday , January 8, 1997 “Hole to the Rescue…HOLE FAMILY” article.  Jimmy skiing on the front page.  $35,ooo raised for his medical expenses at that party.  One of the classic Jackson valley gatherings in support of their fallen warrior.  He was a great spirit of Jackson Hole.  Raw, real!  He was 100% Jimmy Zell.  Nothing else.  Committed to skiing.  His outlaw life was infamous.  His mountain athletic diligence untouchable.  His skill unmatched.  No one who is anyone would ever argue this fact.  His life legendary for all the ‘folks’ whom call Jackson their home today, then and forever. 

It was the high water mark, to me.  The innocent years were gone.  Big money was close, changes looming.  This is before anyone was really making squat filming.  No ski celebrities.  Many legitimate mountain bad asses.  BeforeYouTube.  Before speed drugs hit the valley.  Before all the cops and Cheney had firmly entrenched themselves.  Before the wealthy east coast land grab and southern frat attack.  Back when architects and realtors were few.  Wilson was a small cowboy town.  But...the spirit can never be taken.  Current Jackson is corporate.  The core of dedicated mountain warriors soldiers on!  They live in the light and the epic mountain dream.  Dedicated to the truth JZ lived.  There still is no place like 'Jackson Hole'.  After living there years, my life has never been the same since .  I will never forget that day in Granite seeing JZ thundering down.  It raised the bar and I've been chasing powder all around the world since.  What was special in those years, we were safe from ‘the cool’.  We were bonded by powder somehow.  Massive weather patterns.  Living in our cars.  Laundry rooms.  Alleys.  Schoolbuses.  Wherever.  Not the bling but the experience.  The adventure.  The community.  All part of an orchestra, making harmony as individuals.