Let the Games Begin
I’m free. I’m your classic millennial (1995?) that is chasing dreams over work. That being said I disagree with all those that ditched work during Covid and thrived on government fun-employment money. The National Parks closed for roughly two months at the start of Covid leaving me unemployed. The second they reopened, however, I was excited to get back to work.
Work is great, gives life meaning, and society can only run with everyone working together and providing services. This current “freedom” is a personal choice to chase dreams for a season. I am excited, however, to continue working when I return.
My last day of work was the 9th and celebrations included all my favorite sports and friends. Nature threw me some celebration gifts as well. The day I dropped my last guests off was a sunny 50 degree day meaning it’s climbing time. A group of us got together to hit a local crag and bask in the start of spring.
Nature then remembered I loved skiing and threw us one final gift. Spring went into hiding and old man Winter threw down endless snow for the next week. It was the largest dump of the year and occurred in mid April!
The resort closed April 10th leaving us only the backcountry to soak in the sky’s white gold. For maximum efficiency plus return on investment for effort, we flocked to Mt. Glory like flies to a light.
Prior to the nuking of snow, I had a personal goal needing fulfillment. This year is the first I tallied my Glory hikes. Nearing 50 by early April, I felt required I hit that number.
I hiked to the top alone one warm, clear evening. Sharing the summit with only a single other skier plus being my big “5-0”, it seemed appropriate to go nude. I dropped clothes at the top and enjoyed 1600 vert of naked skiing down the main Glory bowl, flashing Jackson the entire way. It was very freeing and magical.
I figured 50 would mark the end of my Glory season. But when endless powder came and I joined the hoards of locals running to taste it, my number climbed. That week was a truly magical start to my year off.
As I’ve mentioned earlier, we have to be flexible with outdoor pursuits. I had plans to shed hunt, rock climb, and ski backcountry goals I’ve had all year. But the weather had different plans. We adjusted and I can’t complain. So what I didn’t ski harder lines or find antlers? I had endless face shots with a variety of friends and some of the deepest snow I’ve ever experienced.
Glory was truly magical this week. So many locals were hiking it. I’d go up each day for 2-3 laps to ski with various friends, yet always run into others on top. It was so fun. A communal sharing of this beautiful mountain and snow by everyone I love. All week, shouts of stoke and excitement rang across the ridges, gulleys, and trees cascading off Glory.
In total I added 10 more laps to the mountain. Ok, 60 is a solid number to end on. Then I did the math. That’s roughly 96,000 feet of hiking and skiing on one mountain. Crap. Now I have to fit in three more laps to hit 100k. Guess I’ll be back up in May.
While the longer days and sun of spring generally bring excitement and happiness for the upcoming shift of seasons, it can also be a sad time in Jackson.
For those unfamiliar with mountain towns - they are seasonal. Your income, your activities, and even your friends. People come and they go. Many come back but not all.
April is our off-season. With few visitors and little work available, many people leave for vacations. Others leave for good - off to other mountains towns or seeking steadier work elsewhere with more affordable living. Thus, April brings many goodbyes.
For the most part though, friends will return. In fact. I look at it positively. We all vacation to other states and recreate how we choose. Though we say goodbye for some time, it’s fun to think of all your friends getting after it elsewhere and separately chasing their own pursuits. Bonfires and potluck dinners upon return will be filled with endless stories from these trips.
I too will join the seasonal migration to other states. Before waving goodbye to Wyoming, however, there was time for one more mission.
Denton, Tanner and I made an attempt to ski Wyoming’s highpoint, Gannett Peak. It’s one of the most remote highpoints in the country plus would offer great training and gear testing for Denali. Plus, Tanner and I had climbed it in summer several years ago. It now seemed only right to ski it.
I’ll let the photos tell most of the story (plus an upcoming short video edit soon). In short, we were a band of misfit toys attempting a lofty goal. Denton and I were both sick - coughing and hacking up a lung the entire trip. Tanner tweaked his knee day one. Nevertheless, we were determined.
Day 1 saw consistent snowfall, terrifying “whoomphs” from the snow (a sign of dangerous, unstable snow layers), and miles of skinning through a whiteout. We curled into our tent that evening hoping for the weather window we saw in the forecast. A loud lightening bolt striking nearby that night left us unsure.
On day 2, summit day, the whiteout only got worse, the winds picked up, and snow fell. We made a push for the summit but deep in Titcomb basin we turned around. With 30-40 mph winds, terrible visibility, and dangerous avalanche conditions, it seemed like the smart move.
We spent the afternoon fortifying the tent, melting snow for water, and basking in the remote expanse of the Winds in winter. Enter the Wind River range in summer and you’ll be surrounded by backpackers and climbers. This trip we didn’t see a single person, let alone a footprint. It may be the most remote any of us have ever been in the lower 48 states.
Getting out of the warm sleeping bags on day 3 was tough. You have to put on sweaty boot liners that you slept with in your sleeping bag so they wouldn’t freeze. You have to walk out into single digit temperatures to start melting snow for water. I made the trek and crawled out on our final morning only to be met by a beautiful, clear sunrise.
This was the weather window we had anticipated, only it came 24 hours late. With food and fuel running low plus obligations calling us back home, we couldn’t attempt another summit push. Regardless we would have turned around anyways due to unstable snowpack and avalanche risk. So instead we had a chill morning packing down camp and appreciating the many 13,000ft+ peaks surrounding us that had been covered in clouds before.
We then began the long 9-hour trek out. It was absolutely breathtaking. But the blue-bird sky rose temperatures and brought spring conditions to the deep snow that fell previously. It was rough.
Any backcountry skier knows the pain of skinning through heavy, wet, sticky snow. It’s slow going and exhausting. No amount of skin wax will prevent the stick. We trudged our way home. We were in zombie-mode the last 4 hours and almost didn’t talk. Tanners knee worsened while Denton’s and my coughs echoed through the trees.
Nevertheless, we made it out before sunset. Sure we didn’t summit Gannett, but what an epic winter trip it was. A true highlight of the season. We’ll hopefully be back in May for a second attempt.
Ok, this post will be short. I’m working on some writing and two video edits I’ll post soon.
But I’m back to living in my car and now I’m hitting the road. The split board and skis are hung up. I’m off to Montana to shed hunt, then California to climb. After that it’s back to Wyoming.
May is approaching. That means shed season, bear hunting, and more skiing.
The games have begun.