IT’S not every day you get to ski past Indiana Jones, I thought as I slid by Harrison Ford and his squeeze Calista Flockhart.

He’d just popped in on his private jet to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, the heart of cowboy country where there are more stetson-wearing locals than on the set of Brokeback Mountain.

A couple of days earlier in Aspen, Colorado, I’d spotted Jon Bon Jovi dropping off his son at ski school and Goldie Hawn out shopping. Chelsea boss Roman Abramovich has an pounds 18million ranch outside town while Kevin Costner is another regular visitor.

It’s not hard to see why the mega-rich and movie stars love Aspen and Jackson. The skiing is astounding and everyone is so, well, darned nice.

I’d always assumed The Rockies would be way too pricey compared with the places I’d skied in France or Italy and never dared to make the trip across the Atlantic before.

But bored with being elbowed out of long lift queues by pushy Italians trying to impress their girlfriends and getting fewer frites for my fiver from sullen bar staff, I took a fistful of dollars and headed off to Cowboy Central.

You may have to pay to fly further, but everything else is so much cheaper than in Europe, despite the pound’s recent fall against the dollar.

Aspen definitely has something for ever yone from novices, catered for at Buttermilk Mountain, to hardcore types who hike to the 12,392ft summit of the Highland Bowl for some off-piste action.

My apartment in Snowmass – one of the resort’s four skiing areas connected by a free shuttle bus – was right on the slopes. It also had a fullyequipped kitchen, as well as being larger than most of the apartments I’d squashed myself into in France.

But the real joy of Snowmass is the gigantic 3,132-acre skiing area. And, as my aching knees later testified, my guide and proud Aspen resident John Mosiman seemed determined to make sure I skied every inch of it.

Dead Man’s Gulch

I was fine on bizarrely-named runs like Whispering Jesse, Moonshine, Naked Lady and Mick’s Gully. But, by the end of my first day, I understood why one of Aspen’s runs is called Dead Man’s Gulch.

Looking for an easier second day, I met up with local skier Greg Mebel, but had no such luck. After a fabulous lunch and a few glasses of wine at Gwyn’s mountain-top restaurant, Greg suggested I have a crack at the “superpipe” – a long chute of snow with near-ver tical 30ftwalls on each side.

I stood at the top quaking for what seemed like hours. But after watching a succession of five-year-olds whizz past, I managed to ski up – and down – my first superpipe without killing myself.

I ‘ve never skied anywhere where the people are so charming, always stopping to ask if I was OK, or lost, having a nice day, or simply “where y’ from, pardner?”

There are even lift crew handing out free water and tissues for runny noses. And at the end of the day you can dump your skis at a transfer point and have them sent to another ski area to avoid you having to lug them back to your room.

I took advantage, leaving my skis at a transfer point, and headed over to Aspen Mountain where there are more Bentleys on the streets and men wear ing Rolex or Patek Philippe watches than a party night at the Beckhams’. Fendi, Gucci, Louis Vuitton and Zenga are among the dozens of designer stores in the town, along with a host of art galleries, restaurants and bars.

I’m sure many of the mink-clad shoppers have never put their Manolo-clad tootsies anywhere near a ski boot. But the reason most visitors come is the fantastic skiing and the jaw-dropping views across the Rockies from the 11,200ft Sundeck at the top of Aspen Mountain.

Cougar alert

At the Sundeck restaurant I spotted some of Aspen’s oddest wildlife – the “cougars” who prowl this area. These are the super-rich divorcees who keep the plastic surgery and leopardskin ski-pants industries in business as they hunt down fit young men for a bit of winter fun.

They swiftly worked out I didn’t fit the bill as I scurried off to meet my friend Keri, a super-swift snowboarder, who was taking me on my first “black diamond” – the most difficult run under the American grading system, apart from “double black diamonds”.

Despite her giggles, I managed to make it down without falling, celebrating with a pizza and a drink at a great Italian called Mezzaluna for about pounds 10 a head. As well as the swanky places, Aspen also has McDonald’s and Domino’s pizza restaurants and a host of bars where drinks are less than half what you would pay in the Alps.

Next stop after a short flight from Aspen was Jackson Hole, scene of my brief encounter with Harrison and Calista. Like Aspen it has some of the finest skiing around, but its character couldn’t be more different, a throwback to the Wild West with its boardwalks and bars like the Silver Dollar Bar where country and western bands pull in the crowds.

The skiing, along with the hotels, chalets and apartments, is a 20-minute drive from Jackson in Teton Village.

Jackson Hole has amazing skiing and the views across the valley from the 10,450ft summit of Rendezvous mountain are spectacular. There’s plenty for intermediates and advanced skiers, but only 10 per cent of the runs are suitable for beginners.

One of the big attractions of Jackson is the back-country trials that you can only access by special gates off the main pistes.

But these areas are not covered by ski patrols so only head off here with a guide.

Unlike its glitzier cousin Aspen, Jackson is much more about skiing. The place is packed with those who just want to ski all day. The pistes are simply outstanding and relatively empty compared with those in France and Italy. And a new 100-person cable car opening this December will make the journey to the top of the mountain even swifter.

There’s far less sitting around sipping hot chocolate. You are more likely to find Jackson skiers on something called the “steep and deep” course, learning to brave the sort of drops you only see people try at the start of a James Bond film.

Jackson Hole: Harrison and Calista love it

Jackson does have smar trestaurants like the Couloir, reached by a star-lit gondola ride at night, and the Peak at the Four Seasons Resort (Harrison and Calista stayed there). But my favourite was the Mangy Moose, with its ridiculously large plates of nachos.

Compared with Europe, food and booze in Aspen and Jackson is much cheaper, while the cost of chalets and apartments is pretty similar, although the ones in the Rockies are larger and better equipped. Lift passes are also good value if you buy them in advance.

Flights from the UK to Denver might be nine hours, but I was still skiing the next morning, just as if I had jetted off to the Alps.

Many UK ski-lovers take a two-week break to get the most out of the Rockies and the place certainly makes for an extraordinary experience.

My last day coincided with the end of the season in Jackson when everyone appears to go crazy. And as I headed back to the Mangy Moose for a final beer, I was overtaken by a man skiing naked, holding hands with a giant chicken and a woman dressed as a penguin.

I knew it would take something special to top hanging out with Harrison and Calista.

What’s the deal?

In Snowmass, I stayed at a Timberline self-catering studio with North America specialists, Skiworld (0844 4930 431, http://www.skiworld.ltd.uk). In Jackson Hole, I stayed at the North Colter Lodge, Jackson Hole – also with Skiworld.

There’s more information on Aspen here and on Jackson Hole here