My misplaced aversion to Alta started with the bumper stickers.

It's like my feeling about college decals on people's cars. If they're next to lots of other stickers on some clunker, it's no big deal. The car probably belongs to a college kid, a recent grad or someone who likes bumper stickers. But when a real grown up drives around with a college decal on an otherwise nice vehicle, it's like, dude. Get over it.

That's kind of how I felt about all those Alta stickers on shiny cars. What did these people have to prove?

See, I learned to ski at Solitude. There I stayed. It has the best season pass bargain for my schedule, and there aren't so many avalanche closures in Big Cottonwood Canyon.

But it's more than that to me now. Solitude is my stomping ground, my territory. When I'm not there, I wish I were. I have few loyalties in life; one of them is to Solitude.

We regulars bristle at any suggestion that Alta is THE place for serious skiers. It's our duty -- even if we aren't serious skiers or have never been to Alta. We at least have sense enough not to pay out the nose for the same snow, the same mountain range and bigger crowds.

So it felt a little wrong at first to pass up one of my Solitude Mondays for a trip to Alta.

At first.

Alta began to chip away at my expectations as soon as I pulled up to the Albion base.

Those snowflake bumper stickers, ubiquitous in the city, were nowhere to be found in the parking lot.

Could they be like Harvard decals -- mostly for the parents of people who actually go there?

I bought my ticket and clutched my trail map as I faced the resort.

Which.

Is.

Humongous.

As I plotted my way to the Supreme lift, a man stopped to give me directions.

"Where are you from?" he asked.

"I live here," I said. "But this is my first day at Alta."

"First day?! Where have you been hiding?" he asked.

"Um, Solitude," I said, expecting to be spit on.

"Oh! Solitude is great. But you'll be coming back to Alta."

That was the most derisive thing I heard all day. Any time I looked at my map, someone swooped over to escort me down runs. When they learned I mostly skied Solitude, they just got excited about their favorite spots over there.

Don't get me wrong, I've witnessed the haughty Alta-tude, but always off the mountain. People only spout off about the inferiority of other places when no one has a chance to see if they actually ski well enough to know the difference. Really intrepid skiers seem to have fun anywhere there's powder and pointy mountains.

But I have to admit: Alta is not to be missed.

There is just so much of it. I stayed at Supreme until my legs wobbled, and I tried only a fraction of the routes. You could never run out of discoveries at Alta. Granted, I'm still exploring Solitude. But there is a hugeness at Alta that reminded me of my first day in a new city. I felt like a traveler.

It would take a lot to pry my Solitude pass out of my hands. It is my ski home.

But Alta is a great vacation spot. Maybe I should have grabbed a souvenir sticker.

Erin Alberty has more Utah adventures and musings on her blog, poorpenmanship.com.