I brought nine dudes to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, for a weekend of snowmobiling. Most had never been on a snowmobile. Some had never been in the Rockies during the wintertime. All of us left with hearts full of absorbed beauty and new adventure highlights.
After I returned home from Jackson Hole, I learned about the Dutch word, gunnen. It connotes a happiness found in someone else’s happiness. I absolutely enjoy traveling alone—the autonomy, the chance to build every detail of a trip around my interests. But I also love introducing friends to a new experience, a fresh adventure, a different way to spend a weekend. This trip let me absorb the fun my buddies were having, and I came home grateful to have been the catalyst for this gathering. I failed to get good pictures with each of these solid dudes. So, I’m glad the whole gang agreed to this shot.
We weren’t exactly precision riders out on the trails and meadows, but—boy!—did we love exploring southwestern Wyoming together. You can see the video of our descent from this ledge here.
During our two days in Jackson Hole, I think 12” or 13” of new powder fell from the sky. I’ve never ridden in so much fresh snow. Even the groomed trails were at times almost a foot deep in fresh powder. We didn’t have the machines for that. Small miscues became group projects, helping each other get our sleds back to the trails. On the first day, Sergio and I had ridden off a 20’ embankment. Thankfully, Search & Rescue was only a mile back and came and got our sleds out. They taught us great techniques for extricating our machines in less time and with less physical effort. By the end of the trip, our crew had the process down to an art form. haha And Jacob was our hero with the best strength to weight ratio and intuitive skills. The rest of us determined we don’t ever want to do a snowmobile trip without him.
My brother and I have lived in different states for 25 years and in different time zones for 15 of those years. These weekends together always feel too short but also so rich. We’d never snowmobiled together. On our last 7 miles on the last day, Timmy led us back to the trailers on a winding, narrow, hilly trail. I stayed right off the end of his sled as we raced through the trees. It was like we were kids again, playing sockey (a sport that combined soccer and hockey) in my attic bedroom or Whiffle Ball in the front yard. It’s a memory I hope I can easily access for always.
My brother was only 5 when I left for college and only 9 when he stood as best man in my wedding. We’ve spent the past 25 years shrinking our age gap. We both caught the international travel bug—me for the adrenaline rushes and him for the cuisine. Our conversations are effortless and long (2.5 hours this past Saturday alone). These stolen weekends with him fly by just as fast—always too short. Playing in the snow of the Tetons together, we got to watch each other’s hearts refill, our lungs take in cathartic breaths.
I loved watching Jacob and JR absorb this new experience and new corner of the planet. Their wonder was contagious. We’ve talked bout this trip so much since we’ve returned to Virginia’s Blue Ridge Mountains.
I’m so thankful for all of the fresh snow that helped this trip live up to my hype. I feel so far away from my office, my to-do lists, and the stress of all of the recent headlines when I’m in a place like this. This corner of the Grays River Trail system captivates me every time I ride here. (I’ve been through this intersection 10 times across various winter trips.)
We returned to Cowboy Coffee for breakfast both mornings after a great experience there on our last trip. Can’t recommend it enough. But this situation in the bathroom made me wonder what kind of therapy had been going on in this tiny room
