How A Citizen Is Raising Awareness About Threat Of Grand Targhee Expansion

Today in Teton Valley, Idaho, straight across the high ridgelines of the Tetons from Jackson Hole, there is a contingent of citizens deeply concerned about the future of their community.

Old-guard Mormon dirt farmers, the caretakers of breathtaking undulating foothills, have broken bread with expats forced by economic challenges in Jackson Hole to flee to that side of Teton Pass. They’re united in common cause: they don’t want their dale to suffer the same fate as Teton County, Wyoming.

While the spillover effects that have already happened are inarguable, they know they still have crucial choices they can make, and they realize the window of opportunity for charting a different course is closing rapidly. Good folk, dealing with the proposed expansion of Grand Targhee Resort, often speak of externalities.

In economic parlance, and according to the Oxford Dictionary, an externality is “a side effect of consequence of an industrial or commercial activity that affects other parties without this being reflected in the cost of goods or services involved.”

In simple terms, in Teton Valley, it means that those pushing development and accelerating growth in order to make huge profits, are foisting the costs off on citizens. Private interests are externalizing their costs on the public, in the form of escalating real estate that harms the ability of locals to live there, taxpayers are being asked to foot the bill for rising service costs inflicted upon Teton County, Idaho, and local quality of life is being negatively impacted in ways many do not want. Indeed, the proposed Grand Targhee expansion promises to bring an amped up version of industrial recreation and corresponding real estate speculation fueled by big out of town money.

Due to a quirk of geography, Grand Targhee resort is located in a little protrusion of Wyoming and therefore Teton County, Wyoming, stands to gain from tax revenues generated from expansion while many of the costs are foisted on Teton County, Idaho.

One of the citizens of Teton Valley, Idaho, who experienced industrial strength recreation before in Utah, is Howie Garber, a retired emergency room doctor who is a hardcore skier, traveler and, it turns out, pretty fine nature photographer with a particular focus on wildlife, especially brown bears in Alaska and grizzlies in Greater Yellowstone.

What he sees in Teton Valley is a repeat of the same old script. To remind people what’s at stake, he has turned to celebrating beauty. He’s produced a book, Adventures in Fine Art Photography, and it places the Tetons and Teton Valley within the context of some of the most spectacular mountain settings in the world.

Garber’s life is worthy of a memoir and perhaps another Mountain Journal story in the future. What follows now is part of a recent conversation we had.

TODD WILKINSON: Having known many incredible photographers, conservationists and ER docs, your book left me stunned, as in: “As with many people in this world, I had no idea of what you’ve done, where you’ve been, and thereby who you are.” How does photography reflect not only your eye for beauty but your first principles as a human being?

HOWIE GARBER: The highest use of my photography has been to protect and advocate for public land, [and I’ve] donated many photos to the Wilderness Society, Save Our Canyons, land trusts and other organizations. I enjoy doing things that are challenging. When I wondered if I could make any money as a photographer, I decided that I could at the least take photos that make people happy. So, I started by taking photos of my friends skiing, weddings and pets.

I like my photos that tell a story with more meaning. When I took the photo of wildflowers and icebergs, I thought a lot about the clearcut nearby. The highest or best use of my photography has been to protect or advocate for a place. I return to same places over and over. Often the best photos are difficult to get. 

TW: The title of your book is Adventures in Fine Art Photography. Please riff on the adventure part.

GARBER: Often it involves solo camping in bear country in Alaska and Absarokas, where there’s also wild weather, high wind and clouds, which makes for unusual photography. I’m somewhat of an adrenaline junkie. Much of my photography has been the antithesis of adventure in the kinetic funhog sense. I wait hours for the right light and returning to the same places.

TW: Your photographs invite us to pause and hold still in a moment, reflecting on pure natural beauty, be it a landscape or wild animal. How is photography your personal therapy? 

GARBER: My mind never stops. Much of it is noise, but I do solve problems in my sleep. When I concentrate on the photos it is an escape from the noise. The photography reminds me that I am so lucky to be able to appreciate such beauty.

TW: Another wonderful dimension of the book is how it takes viewers on a journey to mountain environments around the world on several continents. In your extensive travels, what do mountain people everywhere share?   

GARBER: That’s easy—gratitude and willingness to help their neighbors.

TW: Early in my career, I was a violent crime reporter in Chicago and part of the job involved writing stories about people whose lives came to various kinds of violent ends—from gunshots or knives, accidents, fires and other tragedies. I got to know some ER docs who were on the front lines of treating trauma victims at Cook County Hospital. Looking back, how has your experience as an ER doctor shaped your view toward life, toward nature and finding personal meaning?

GARBER: Life involves suffering. I tried to be friends even with folks who lied to me about their alcoholism or drug abuse. We are on this planet for such a short time. We might as well be useful, gentle and kind. Experiencing suffering and trauma has probably helped me to tread more lightly in nature. I don’t delude myself. My presence has scared some wildlife and I have walked on some wildflowers.

TW: Related to the above, I really like your observation: “There were many similarities in my two professions. Every day as an outdoor photographer is different and often full of surprises. Your success depends on multiple factors—weather, planning, animal behavior and luck. In the emergency room as in nature, you must accept that many factors are out of your control.” We try to control so many things and delude ourselves into believing we can outrun death. What’s your advice to people reading this interview?

GARBER: Our ability to accept change and things we can’t control has so much to do with our happiness in life. David Brooks, the New York Times columnist who started at the same place you did, the City News Bureau of Chicago, says that some of the happiest people he knows are over 75. This may be why. Although when it comes to environmental advocacy and when I hear people say that development is inevitable, I tell them that this is just an excuse to be lazy.

TW: In your image, Snake River Rainbow, you capture that elusive spectral light in Grand Teton National Park amid stormy conditions at the same place where Ansel Adams captured his famous black and white portrait of the Snake. What do you appreciate about Adams’ work and the fact that his work helped to energize modern environmental advocacy?

GARBER: He did it with a 4x5 camera, one plate at a time. He showed that photographers could make a huge difference by loving a place.

TW: Some people don’t reflect deeply on this, but Greater Yellowstone has a strong, heartfelt pull for Utahns. It has existed historically and is evident today, particularly in the southern and western reaches of the ecosystem. How would you describe the allure that this region possesses, given that prior to resettling in Teton Valley, Idaho, you spent time in Salt Lake City, which happens to be the closest major metropolitan area?

GARBER: My pull to the Teton Valley is that I am a powder whore. I tell people that my third occupation has been fighting ski resorts and that my fourth is skiing powder. This was my 51^st year of backcountry skiing. I do spend time at ski resorts because my partner was a ski racer and it’s fun to ski there at times.

I have been very bothered and challenged by the fact that very few communities can control the amount of tourism that takes place. When I take photos of open space, it probably contributes to the idea that we have lots of wilderness but we do really need to protect it.

TW: You mentioned that you were good friends with Rick Reese, the mountaineer, legendary Jenny Lake rescue ranger, geographer, co-founder of the Greater Yellowstone Coalition with Ralph Maughan, ardent conservationist, and original founder of Mountain Journal along with Mike Clark. What sticks out about Rick Reese and their convictions as conservationists?

GARBER: Rick was very nonconfrontational, but persistent and unyielding in refusing to give away things that shouldn’t be given away without a fight, and often that way taught you something. He believed that we are now living in a time where we must defend Greater Yellowstone because there won’t be a chance to save it later. He did confess to me that he pulled away from GYC because they were not forceful enough.

TW: Greater Yellowstone, like many corners of the West, are magnets for funhogs—and you are among them. Indeed, getting outdoors fuels the passions of MoJo readers. There is rising concern about the impact of industrial recreation, which itself is fueled by the monetization of outdoor experience and the desire of manufacturers to sell more stuff to more consumers. And yet, the backcountry is finite, ecosystems are fragile, wildlife is incredibly sensitive to human disturbance. How are we going to save this place when we approach it as being boundless and so many people reject exercising restraint in how much we take?

GARBER: So many of the recreationists take the concept of freedom a bit too far. So many mountain bikers are in favor of wilderness until it constrains them. I remember the issue of pack rafting in Yellowstone, and attempts made to open up those waters by people only thinking of themselves. Fortunately, the public rallied on behalf of the park and wildlife.

TW: For your earlier book, Utah’s Wasatch Range: Four Season Refuge, you were awarded a silver medal in the Ben Franklin national book competition. You helped pull together 20 writers, scientists and elected officials to contribute essays with the hope they would limit ski expansion in the Wasatch ecosystem. Were those efforts successful?

GARBER: Yes! We stopped connection between Park City and Big Cottonwood. Why do they have relevance to the current groundswell of citizens standing in opposition to Grand Targhee Resort expansion and what it will mean for Teton Valley? The same issues of water; protecting a finite resource. It was different in Salt Lake City because Mormon pioneers recognized the need for water to support a large population. So SLC took ownership of the water where they didn’t own the land. So much of the local economy depends on fishing, hiking, proximity of wilderness. Many people in Salt Lake recognized there was a lot of monkey business and decisions made behind closed doors.

I hope here in Teton Valley that they will ask the question that if Grand Teton National Park and Wyoming Game and Fish are opposed to development in the South Bowl [at Grand Targhee], why is it still on the table? Hopefully they will recognize that it is probably because of money and lobbyists in Washington.

TW: If you were to send a message to readers of Mountain Journal and others who care about Greater Yellowstone, how would you describe the seriousness and urgency of the development threat facing this region?

GARBER: It is serious and urgent. Too many people want a slice of heaven in their backyard. We have so many examples of tourism out of control.

I remember when my friend Sarah Bennett wanted Salt Lake County to consider a trail system in Emigration Canyon near Salt Lake. The folks with multimillion dollar homes were afraid that homeless people would live on the trails and start fires. These same people had built their homes in the foothills in prime wildlife habitat and the wildland-urban interface. People need to realize they are killing the places they love through their own actions.