Photo: Will Africano
When I decided for the first time to chase powder instead of flying east to Buffalo, New York for the annual 4 a.m. Blackout Wednesday debauchery and way too hungover Thanksgiving feast, I found myself heading to Jackson, Wyoming where the storms were lining up and the base was being built. I reached out through my powder Rolodex to find a couch or two for the week and got set up with the Mad Trees crew out of UVM. With 18 inches coming down on the pass in the 13th hour of the drive from Mammoth (and another four to eight inches forecasted each night after), the stage was set. In this first holiday away, a higher level of commitment to this life will be reached.
In every ski bum’s life there comes a point in which you pack up and head west. Maybe you are joining friends, maybe leading the charge, maybe some are coming along to blaze the trail for the rest. Either way, it feels less like a conscious decision and more like the inevitable next step in life. No longer reliant on mom and dad as you were growing up and going on family vacations, you’re now on your own, doing minimum wage work, and dedicating all of your free time to the pursuit of powder.
Photo: Will Africano
You hold a job (or two) for the winter season and a different gig for the summer, generally a position supporting the local tourist economy. This job gets you your mountain pass — screw health insurance, even babysitting jobs have the “free pass” benefit in this town! — but it requires all hands on deck for the holidays. No returning home, no turkey with the cousins, no presents under the familiar tree or ski socks in the embroidered stocking.
You’re on duty — but that doesn’t mean you don’t have family and it doesn’t mean you don’t have holidays.
5 a.m. wake up calls for 6 a.m. bootpacks and skins off the pass are standard — everyone has a job, and most of them start around 9 a.m. Pressure to make it back to open the demo shop pushes the tempo up. During my visit, I spent the days at Grand Targhee or on the pass. When my friends were busy, there were always new groups to skin and hitchhike with. At 3 p.m., we’d meet back up for another bootpack/skin off the pass. It’s the way we ended each day.
Three intense days kicked off a big week leading up to Jackson Hole opener and a big storm on the horizon. With 20-plus expected in the upper elevations from Tuesday into Wednesday, we planned an overnight hut trip — yes, in November — in Grand Teton National Park. The big storm came in warm and wet, though, and shifted the plans as avalanche danger went off the charts.
Photo: Will Africano
However, the intensity didn’t falter and the crew built road gaps on the outskirts of town, ripping backflips under the lights of snowmobiles and stemming the appetite for powder with good times, friends, beers, and a lot of karaoke. (If you make it out there on a Wednesday, go to the Virginian. The crew will be holding their section, undoubtedly in good spirits.)
After a bluebird opener at Jackson Hole, we made 100 pounds of food, including two 20 pound turkeys — it was Thanksgiving, after all. We sat down with the 25 East Coasters we knew and friends made along the way. Everyone joined in a similar spirit: they followed a friend or made their own decisions, chasing a mutual dream.
Photo: Will Africano
In places like Jackson Hole, avalanches are real, danger is tangible — skill, knowledge, and balls are a must. But that commonality of skill, knowledge, and balls, as well as the underlying yet overwhelming love for the pursuit of powder, bonds everyone together. Thanksgiving with Mad Trees reminded me that a life of a ski bum and a holiday away from family doesn’t change the holiday at all. It just changes the family you surround yourself with.
Ride on, boys.
Photo: Will Africano
Mad Trees is a community of riders from the East Coast who are spread across the country for the epic pursuit of an epic mountain life. Follow them at Instagram or check out their website at MadTrees.org as they shred Washington, Wyoming, Utah and Vermont.
