Three years ago, when Mark Goff and Phillip Engel had their first viewing of Château Avensac in the south of France, only one thing prevented the California couple from putting in an offer: Was it old enough?

The gate tower, supporting walls, and stone bridge at the estate's entrance date back to the original medieval castle built in 1320. But the main building — a 48-room château with sweeping views of the Gers, the rural, foie-gras-producing region of southwest France — was rebuilt in the 1820s. "The idea of the royals and the nobles, to us, is a very romantic idea," Goff says. "That's why we love 'Bridgerton.'"

In the end, they decided there was "just enough 14th-century château stuff going on" to fulfill their fantasies and make it their new home. The place was certainly big enough to host weddings and artist retreats, a business the couple was counting on to help pay for the extensive renovations that would be required. By the fall of 2021, Château Avensac was theirs for $1.2 million.

That's when reality set in.

The château had exposed electrical wiring, "nonexistent" plumbing, and stone walls that retained moisture. Everywhere they looked, there was something in need of work. So far, they've spent $500,000 updating the château's electricity, heat, and plumbing, fortifying the foundations, and replacing the roof. They've budgeted for $500,000 more. "Everyone said, 'You have to assume everything is going to be double what you expect.' And they were kind of right," Engel says. "We didn't really listen to that part."

All across France, there's a glut of châteaus for sale. While the average asking price is $2 million, smaller châteaus can go for a couple hundred thousand. A few, like the palatial mansion nicknamed the "Little Versailles of the Pyrenees," are even being given away. But there's a reason they're on the market: The properties are huge money pits.

Real estate agents say buyers should expect to set aside as much as 1.5% of the purchase price for annual maintenance, and significantly more if the château requires extensive renovations. And if the place is classified as a historic monument, as some 15,000 are, add to the process a small mountain of French bureaucracy. Plans require approval by the French minister of culture, and work must be done by designated specialists. In all of France, there are just 31 architects accredited to run these projects. What's more, the places tend to be woefully outdated and incredibly isolated.

"It's true, you can buy a château in France for nothing," says Adrian Leeds, an American real estate agent who's been in France for 30 years. "There's a reason for that: because nobody wants them!"

That is, the French don't want them. Americans very much do. "There was a razzia" — a plundering raid — "right after the pandemic," says Gonzague Le Nail, a French real-estate agent who specializes in châteaus. Most of the interest used to come from foreign buyers in the market for a second home, but now, Le Nail says, it's from families looking to relocate to the French countryside and use the château as their primary residence. Half the châteaus around Paris are foreign-owned, and inquiries from Americans are up across France.

The day they signed the deed of sale, Goff and Engel invited over all 74 residents of the town of Avensac and served them Champagne, impressing their new neighbors with the decidedly un-aristocratic sensibility they brought to their aristocratic new digs. A few months later, they hosted a "spooky Halloween" party. "They're very open, very nice, and very low-key," says Mayor Michel Tarrible, who's been a recipient of the couple's homemade cookies.

This was not Goff and Engel's first time taking on an extreme fixer-upper. In 2009, they bought a place in Sonoma County, north of San Francisco, that took a decade to renovate. They did much of the work themselves, much of it at night and on weekends. Goff documented the process on his blog. (Goff is a graphic designer, while Engel works in tech.) They ultimately sold the house for twice what they had put in.

Around 2020, Goff happened upon a #chateaulife vlog on YouTube, where a family was documenting the highs and lows of buying and renovating a château. He couldn't believe how cheap the properties were going for, and he pitched Engel on the idea of moving abroad.

"In California you can flip houses and make a lot of money," Goff says. "I knew going into this that it's not going to be like that. You do it because you want to live this kind of rustic, ruined lifestyle in the south of France."

Another chatelain, Abigail Carter, describes a similar trajectory: She had some experience transforming old, dilapidated homes when, as she puts it, she became "obsessed" with buying a château in France.

Originally from Canada, Carter and her husband lived in a succession of fixer-uppers in London, Massachusetts, and New Jersey as they moved around for work and grew their family. After her husband died in the September 11, 2001, attacks — he was visiting a trade show at the World Trade Center that day — Carter relocated to Seattle with their two kids. By 2021 she was living in a converted firehouse she'd renovated and wondering what was next for her.

She found her answer bingeing #chateaulife vlogs on YouTube. "For less than half of what you would pay here for a house, you can get an entire château," she recalls thinking. "I decided not buying a château in France was going to be more detrimental to my health than buying one."

Carter made two visits to France before finding a property she felt she could handle on her own. Château de Borie, a 12-bedroom château near Agen, had been vacant for four years. "It was almost like 'The Grinch Who Stole Christmas' with all the wires hanging," Carter recalls. But the place had good bones. Carter closed on the place in 2022, paying $610,000 and budgeting another $200,000 for furnishings and renovations.

Panic kicked in almost immediately. "My God," she remembers thinking. "What am I doing? Why am I doing this?"

Last year, an enormous cliff above Carter's property split open and rained rubble down on her property. It will likely take tens of thousands of euros to remove the debris and secure what remains of the cliff. "The cliff has been there for 300 years and it's been fine," she says. "Of course, I've owned it for a year and a half and this thing comes down on me."

But the experience has also been thrilling. "I'm bringing this house up in terms of its elegance again," she says. "French style doesn't change. It's very understated and very elegant."

Recently, a young family from Paris inherited a nearby château and began coming down for weekends. Carter says it's slowly dawning on them what it will cost to maintain it.

"They love it, but it's crumbling — literally crumbling," Carter says.

For many French sellers, what strikes Americans as romantic has come to feel like a curse. Château de l'Espinay, a 15-room manor in Brittany, has been in the family of Williams Henrys d'Aubigny for 250 years. His father, on his deathbed, made him promise never to sell. But at 79, he's overwhelmed by the time and money the property requires. He has no children of his own, and none of his younger relatives have any interest in moving to northwestern France to take over the place.

Henrys d'Aubigny, like many French owners who feel weighed down by history, is desperate to sell. But he's also prone to overvaluing what that history is worth. It's been five years since he listed the château for $2.7 million, and he still doesn't have a buyer. He estimates it needs $100,000 worth of renovations, though his real-estate agent says it's more like $1 million. There's mold, and only one functioning bathroom. The place is so expensive to heat that Henrys d'Aubigny sleeps in a guest cottage during the winter.

"He's very, very attached to his château," his agent says. "It's all he talks about. He thinks you can't put a price on culture."

For years, Henrys d'Aubigny has been holding out for a buyer who will love the place as much as he does. But then a couple from Ohio bought a château up the road; he came to admire their commitment and tasteful renovation. He now says his preferred buyer is "an American who's got a lot of money."

Most of the Americans who take on a château aren't looking for a European life of leisure. Their goal is to start a business. Carter, who just hosted her first retreat at Château de Borie, eventually hopes to generate $60,000 a year by marketing the romance of rural France to Americans and Canadians. She plans to host creative retreats for painters and writers, and "healing" retreats for widows. On her website, she sells château-themed T-shirts and art prints, and she has amassed 48,000 subscribers on her Chateau Chronicles channel on YouTube. In a recent video, she toured the grounds of her château and wondered aloud how this was all "somehow mine."

At Château Avensac, things have turned out to be even more difficult than Goff and Engel bargained for. Two years ago, Goff woke up from spinal surgery paralyzed from the chest down. The condition is temporary, but regaining the use of his legs has been a slow and difficult process, requiring five or six days a week of physical therapy. A wheelchair isn't the best way to move around a 48-room château, but Goff is making do.

Goff and Engel say they're on track to soft-launch their events business in 2025. They've also started selling château swag on their website, and they've set up a Patreon account so their fans can support the work they're doing to reclaim a part of France's history and culture.

"I live in a château," Engel reminds himself when he's feeling overwhelmed. "Yes, it's a crumbling château. But it's still a château. And there's something very romantic about that."

• I explored Jackson Hole, Wyoming, a luxury real-estate hot spot near Grand Teton National Park.
• Jackson Hole is known for its wealth disparity.
• I noticed several signs of extreme wealth and luxury, from the airport to the members-only clubs.

I spent three days exploring some of the most coveted real estate in the US in a 60-mile-long valley on the edge of Grand Teton National Park.

I was reporting from Jackson Hole, Wyoming, one of the most unequal places in America. According to the Economic Policy Institute, the top 1% of residents earn 132 times more than the bottom 99%.

The area comprises the town of Jackson and surrounding suburbs like Wilson, Teton Village, and others.

The Daily Mail recently dubbed Jackson Hole the "new Aspen," as celebrities and billionaires, from Kanye West and the Kardashians to Sandra Bullock and Harrison Ford, have transformed the Wyoming ski town into a vacation home hub.

During my trip, I spotted several signs of extreme wealth and luxury in the Aspen of Wyoming.

The first sign of luxury was landing at Jackson Hole Airport, a popular spot for private jets in the US.

Before I flew into Jackson Hole, I assumed the only way I'd ever get an aerial view of a national park was to book one of those expensive helicopter tours.

But as I gazed out my window during our plane's descent into Jackson Hole Airport (JAC), my jaw dropped.

We were soaring above Grand Teton National Park, which was lush with green forests. Rocky mountains with bits of snow on top towered above the forests, and bodies of water were dotted with islets.

Business Insider reported in 2023 that JAC is the second most popular small-town airport for private jets after Aspen/Pitkin County Airport.

As I deplaned onto the tarmac, I spotted some smaller planes on the runway.

The next came immediately after landing when I entered the airport.

JAC doesn't have lounges. It doesn't have an array of stores or restaurants. It doesn't even have more than one terminal.

But it's still the most luxurious airport I've ever flown through.

Located within Grand Teton National Park, JAC is a small airport with windows for walls and supportive pillars made of Douglas fir trees.

Inside, it felt like a luxury mountain lodge. When renovating the space, CLB Architects wanted to give the interior a "living room" feel — and I think they succeeded.

After deplaning, I stepped into the cleanest terminal I'd ever seen. The walls were coated in murals and wildlife paintings, and cowboy sculptures decorated the baggage claim area.

The terminal had a free library bookshelf, one restaurant, a grab-and-go snack area, and two shops, including an official Grand Teton National Park store.

I had one of the most luxurious stays of my life in an adults-only hotel that costs $1,500 per night.

I stayed at Hotel Yellowstone a month after its August opening. The upscale, adults-only hotel overlooking the Teton Range is in the town of Jackson, but it's so high up a winding hill that it feels secluded from civilization.

There's a reason the company picked this specific spot for the hotel — the property boasts clear views of Snake River Valley and the Tetons.

The scene was more dramatic and awe-inspiring than any other hotel I've stayed in.

I've stayed in many upscale accommodations, but none impressed me as much as this hotel room.

My 600-square-foot room had a king-sized bed, two sitting areas, and an elegant bathroom. The most luxurious part was the balcony with unobstructed views of the Teton Range.

The room felt modern and chic but with a Western twist. One seating area had chairs coated in 100% New Zealand sheepskin, and the other had a floor lamp that resembled moose antlers.

The hotel's restaurant provided the most dramatic views I've ever seen while dining.

Dining at Olivia's felt like dining in a luxury restaurant in the middle of the wilderness. With gigantic floor-to-ceiling windows and a cathedral wooden ceiling, the views were the centerpiece of the eclectic restaurant.

During dinner, I watched the sun set over the mountains while munching on bao buns. In the morning, I spotted a moose just outside the window — a regular sighting at Hotel Yellowstone, according to my server — while scarfing down steel-cut oats.

I spent the next night at the Four Seasons and toured a penthouse that wealthy travelers book for $11,000 a night.

I spent my second night at the five-star Four Seasons hotel in Jackson Hole, a ski-in, ski-out resort. Built to highlight the destination, the interiors scream upscale Western chic.

The most luxurious part of this Four Seasons is the 31 private residences. These penthouse suites have full kitchens and up to five bedrooms, and they start at $11,000 per night in the peak winter season.

During my stay, I got a tour of the Granite Residence — a five-bedroom accommodation. Like the rest of the hotel, the penthouse blended American Western culture with modern luxury.

Each bedroom had a balcony, and there was a large terrace in one of the two living spaces.

"The majority of people who come to Jackson are really coming here to immerse themselves in nature," Sarah Kennedy, CLB Architects' principal and lead design director of the Four Seasons penthouse suite, told Business Insider.

I spent my final night at a hostel — the cheapest booking in town. Even that stay felt luxurious.

After two nights in lavish hotels, I spent my final night in the cheapest accommodation I could find — a queen-sized bunk in a hostel for $150.

The price seemed steep for a bunk in a room with dozens of strangers. But I quickly learned that this hostel wasn't typical.

A company representative told BI that Cache House is a "modern, elevated interpretation of the classic European hostel."

Inside the mid-century-modern space was a large communal room, 50 bunks, a private locker for each guest, and a large bathroom with sparkling clean shower stalls and Co Bigelow toiletries.

Each bunk had a sound-and-light-proof curtain, a storage drawer, and a lamp, fan, and shelf inside the bunk nook.

The mattress felt like one you'd find in a luxury hotel with wool bedding. It was cozy, and the curtain blocked light and sound so well that I easily slept through the night.

While exploring the most expensive neighborhoods in Jackson Hole, I was impressed by the spread-out mansions on hilly roads.

Local real-estate agent Sam Haack told BI that millionaires in Jackson Hole build ranch-style homes outside the Jackson town center.

I taxied around these ultra-luxe neighborhoods and spotted short, wide homes sprawling across multiple acres.

These homes are coveted, as 97% of Teton County is public land that cannot be built on, according to Haack.

"As a buyer, it is so competitive because of simple supply and demand," Haack told BI. "We have always had much more demand than supply because, well, it's one of the most beautiful places in the US, and the lifestyle is unmatched."

A report by the local real-estate company the Viehman Group found that the average listing price in Jackson from July through September was $6.42 million.

The most expensive home on the market is a 9,100-square-foot, six-bedroom, seven-bathroom mansion listed at $40 million.

I was in awe of the architecture. Most of the homes I saw were made of multiple materials, like wood and concrete, which made for a pleasant contrast.

I also had the luxury of spending two hours exploring one of these swanky homes — a vacation home worth more than $10 million that buyers co-own through Pacaso.

I spotted an outdoor water feature that reminded me of a museum courtyard.

On the top deck of the vacation home, I turned on a fountain that looked like a mini waterfall. The water flowed down a concrete barrier into a shallow, boxy pool on the first floor.

I thought it looked modern and sleek. From inside the house, wide windows in the foyer provided a stunning view of the pool and surrounding mountains. It reminded me of water features I've seen at art museums in Dallas, Fort Worth, and Austin, Texas.

The layout and interior design of one of these homes seemed to bring the outside in without sacrificing luxury details.

Inside, the vacation home was three stories, including the basement. The top two floors were lush with natural light, as floor-to-ceiling windows graced every room.

On the top floor, between the living room and the kitchen, there was a gigantic blue structure that looked like an oven, but I later learned it was a double-sided fireplace. It was easily the largest fireplace I'd ever seen.

On the first floor, every bedroom had access to a long patio lining the water feature.

"When we set out to design it, we wanted to create a minimalist aesthetic that would let the stunning landscape take center stage," Lauren Farrell, the vacation home's principal designer, told BI.

"Every detail was carefully considered, from the use of organic textures to the way the architecture seamlessly blends with the natural surroundings, creating a harmonious connection between the home and its environment," Farrell added.

The same home had a sauna in the basement.

I found a wood sauna in the basement and felt a twitch of envy. What's more luxurious than a spa treatment in your own home?

I imagined sliding my boots off after playing in the snow and cozying up in here.

I also visited members-only clubs where affluent residents pay more than $100,000 to join.

I visited two members-only clubs during my trip to Jackson Hole — the Mountain Club for skiers at the Four Seasons and Shooting Star, a golf and ski club that Golf Digest has praised for its 18-hole course sprinkled with streams and lakes beneath the Teton mountain range.

Residents dish out loads of cash for these memberships.

At the Mountain Club, the starting rate is $9,000 a year, along with a $100,000 initiation fee, according to the Four Seasons.

It's unclear what membership rates are at Shooting Star today, but the club's president, John Resor, said in a 2015 interview that the annual fee was $100,000 when it opened in 2009.

In Downtown Jackson, I spotted several high-end shops.

The streets surrounding the town square were filled with luxury retail stores.

There seemed to be a fine art gallery and an upscale furniture store on every block. I peered through the windows and saw chairs coated in fur hides, tiered chandeliers, and canopy beds with wool blankets.

Elevated luxury wear, from bespoke leather products to plaid vests, was draped over mannequins in the retail windows between art and furniture stores.

I stepped inside one of these shops, Kemo Sabe, the celebrity-loved Western brand that started in Aspen about 35 years ago.

Kemo Sabe sells boots, belts, clothing, knives, and other accessories, but it's famous for its cowboy hats, which can cost up to $895. Each is hand-molded, and additional accessories like extravagant bands can cost thousands apiece.

My three-day trip was loaded with luxury.

From top-tier travel offerings to mountainside mansions, I could easily see why the ultrawealthy flock to Jackson Hole.