BACKCOUNTRY MUSINGS FROM IDAHO’S SMOKEY MOUNTAINS
In March 2018, Winter Wildlands Alliance Executive Director Mark Menlove, ambassadors Kt Miller and Rich Meyer, and friends ventured deep into the Smokey Mountains of Idaho for pristine powder, spiritual renewal and to support our Keep Winter Wild campaign. (Words and photos by Kt Miller.)
SMALL TALK ENSUED as we began working our way up the skin track with hut packs full of ski kits, sleeping bags, and local micro brews. Most trips begin with these formalities, as we shake off the bustle of our everyday lives. The rhythm of the skin track soon settled in, along with our comfort with each other, quiet, and solitude.
As we crested the ridgeline of Little Round Top the views opened up. Mountains stretched in all directions, and shadows danced in the sun underneath a blanket of burned trees from a forest fire not-so-long ago. A huge grin on the face of Sun Valley Trekking‘s owner, Joe St. Onge, hinted to the turns to come. With a joyful hoot and swift glide he led us down 1200’ vertical feet of perfect sunlit powder— and so began our four days of revelry in the Smokey Mountains.
We settled into yurt life, powder skiing during the day, and a rotation of good food, good conversation, and sauna sessions at night.
I wandered the path slowly, stopping multiple times, breathing in and out, taking it in. It had been far too long since I gazed at the stars.
Like many, I felt the weight of 2017, and although 2018 renewed my hope, the challenges have not ceased spiritually, personally, or professionally. The first evening I woke in the middle of the night to visit the ladies room— it’s always hard to crawl out of my sleeping bag on the first night, but as I tiptoed out of the yurt into the darkness I was overwhelmed by a deeply bright, starry night. I wandered the path slowly, stopping multiple times, breathing in and out, taking it in. It had been far too long since I gazed at the stars. I wanted to lay there staring up at the glowing sky forever, refilling my soul with the mystery of nature’s delight.
It felt as though our souls were starved for the walking meditation of the skin track. No one seemed to be able to get enough. The days began to blur together in a multitude of perfect powder runs through burned trees, again and again, ebbing and flowing and weaving our way across the landscape. Tired legs begged for more, eager to feel the weary satisfaction of a long day in the skin track, and a quiet mind in the mountains— to let go of the strife of daily life, to simplify, just for a moment— or perhaps to make that feeling linger longer. There was silence and laughter and gratitude and glee as we let ourselves surrender to gravity and bonded over our common love of wild places covered in snow.
As we packed our things on the final day it felt as though the trip had just begun. We celebrated our new friendships, and danced through the forest for a few more runs before heading back to the world below— renewed, restored, and rejuvenated— anticipating the next opportunity to both lose and find ourselves again in untracked powder snow.