I must be certifiable. Or addicted.
Or something. I’m wondering if my “condition” is something I should be worried
about. I don’t think so but others who don’t share the passion I have for
snowmobiling might think so.
On a recent trip from Idaho Falls to the Midwest
to participate in one of the Big Four’s January sneak peek events where we get
to see and ride next season’s snowmobiles, I found myself gazing (more like
intently studying) out the airplane window at the numerous mountain ranges we
plane climbed out of Idaho Falls, it immediately
flew over the Big
As we headed west to east, then came the always majestic Tetons. That day these
mountains were shrouded in a thick layer of clouds at the lower elevations but
the upper reaches were bathed in the rising sun. Truly spectacular.
the Wind River Range. Then there was the Big
Horns. The last mountain range that was visible and the last mountains of any
significance were the Black Hills.
As we flew
over each range of snow laden mountains, there I was “mapping” out my route—by
snowmobile of course—up through this or that drainage to the top of a
particular ridge or plateau where there was acre upon acre of untouched powder.
Untouched powder on mountains and ridges I imagine have never seen a snowmobile
bird-in-the-sky vantage point thousands of feet in the sky, I could spot
countless drainages, ridges, canyons and other awesome terrain features I would
love to explore.
mesmerized by the mountains and snow.
certifiable, aren’t I? Definitely addicted. Wishing I was on the ground on a
snowmobile tracking up all that untouched powder. Not on an airplane flying
even know if snowmobiling is allowed in all those areas I saw from high in the
sky (well, I know much of the Tetons are off limits to sleds) but it was fun to
look, scout and map out potential routes in my mind.
myself scouting potential riding areas whenever and wherever I travel—winter or
summer—the season doesn’t matter to me, in the West.
ride a fraction of those areas (although I’m doing my very best to try) but I
love to dream anyway. Lots of folks dream of lying on the sandy beaches of Hawaii or some exotic Caribbean
island. Me, I dream of laying my sled down in the deep powder of the Wind Rivers
or the Snowies or the Centennials or (insert most any western mountain range
potential riding areas through my mind’s eye until the mountains ran out. After
we flew over the Black Hills, the landscape gradually gave way to the plains of
South Dakota and the expansive Midwest.
when I went back to reading