I admit that it was tough. I left Squaw in a pounding blizzard with an ultimate destination of Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Which as most people know has been suffering in the 'good-snow' department this year. Avalanches, high winds and conservative snowfall has put Jackson in a hole (pun intended) this year. With a forecasted blue-bird pow day in Utah I decided to make a pit stop hit before heading to JH. So I drove the 8 eight hours to Utah, met up with my honey for a Valentine's Day dinner and then promptly woke up at 4 a.m. for a Mt. Superior mission. After a cold but spine filled morning session I trucked up to JH with expectations for high and dry conditions. My spirits were still high but an extreme case of Jet-Lag coupled with early morning missions created the single scariest drive I've ever had. (And that's saying something considering I've driven solo to Alaska twice know) Liberal amounts of coffee and Red Bulls did nothing to abstain from the dreaded "bobbing-for-apples" head droop syndrome and extreme fatigue. But somehow I managed to roll into JH in one piece at around 1 a.m.
The next day was met with blue skies and wind-fucked snow, but a forecasted storm decided to upgrade itself within a matter of hours and promptly spewed a few feet of snow. Suddenly the near death moments behind the wheel were worth it as Todd Ligare, Schroder Baker and I pitted ourselves in trench-town madness. Overhead blower was ingested and smiles were iced by a plethora of face-shots.
Don't believe me? Here's some evidence.
Ligare getting shacked.
Schroder getting pitted.
Josh Nielson, Greg Von Doertsen and Tigger documenting the trenching.
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