Where you can make friends on a powder day

The saying typically goes like this. “There are no friends on a powder day.” But what if you had the opportunity to enjoy perfectly hand-picked fresh tracks all day without the pressure to rush from lift to lift to beat the frenzy? What if someone led you directly to the secretly sweet stashes and then stepped aside and said “it’s all yours—go for it!”

We are lucky to live eleven miles from the number one ski resort in North America. My husband and his two sons grew up ski racing, and the boys have made the transition now as teenagers to the world of “I’d huck myself off that.” I grew up in Colorado and started skiing at three years old, so as a family we aren’t strangers to ski weekends.

But we were hoping for something different. Something special that would make our first trip as a family unforgettable. A time we knew we would always look back on and hope we could do it again. More like an adventure than just another day skiing. And with two teenage boys in the mix, finding that something which would both knock their socks off and alleviate as much heckling or arguing as possible was a daunting task.

Hey—I have an idea! Let’s put ourselves in a place where we’re stuck with five people we don’t know, all day, outdoors, where we have no idea what the weather is going to do, and there’s little to no cell service—how does that sound, boys?

Needless to say, we didn’t share that bit of information, yet we were able to “coerce” them to be pulled out of school for a couple of days so we could load up the car and head for the Tetons. Priority number one? Road trip snacks. To this day when done well, this stands out as one of the highlights of spending five hours trapped in a car with the “parentals.” Cooler with assorted teenager-approved drinks, salty crunchy things, homemade baked goods, and some veggies and hummus and fruit for the win.

Close to five hours later, we pulled up to the Teewinot Lodge at Grand Targhee Resort. Already this was a foreign situation. Normal would be finding a conspicuous spot to park the van, throw up the shades and sleep for the night. Checking the boys into their own room down the hall, proceeding to eat “Wydaho” waffle fry nachos at the Trap Bar & Grill and then making our way in snow boots to the outdoor heated pool and hot tub? This was “sic.”

Snow was in the forecast and fat ski rentals were on the agenda for the next morning—massive underfoot Black Crows all around. A quick stop at Snorkels Cafe for ski legs fuel and coffee, and then the signing of the waivers and avalanche beacon checks as the guides gave us the game plan for the day. One short lift ride to where we’d meet our mode of transport and new best friend, Pisten Bully. We loaded up and the snow cat began to make its way up the mountain via, you guessed it, the cat tracks. Up, up, and up we went—all in eager anticipation of what our guides had in store for us.

Remember that part about no pressure to find the fresh tracks? And the sweet stashes finding their way to your line down the mountain. The guides at Grand Targhee Cat Skiing had everything dialed. The way they casually yet affirmatively controlled the environment, showing everyone where to lay down the next set of tracks so we, and others, could keep coming back for more of the epic marshmallow fluff. Slowing down, taking it all in, and spooning the tracks was our collective mission, and friends were made—even on a powder day.

We couldn’t remember the last time we skied from open to close and then some. Cat skiing gives you this special mental decompression and physical recovery every time you reach the bottom, climb back on board, take in the turns you just made, and think about how it could possibly, or impossibly get better on the next run.

We’ll never know if the guides had this planned all along, or if it was happenstance that our quest around the mountain brought us here and now, but as we crested the top for our last run of the day, the sun getting low in the mid-winter sky, we happened upon the perfect pristine face glistening in the approaching dusk light. One more run towards the Teton Valley floor, my Black Crows perched on the edge.

Bounce like Tigger, I thought. And I did—with smile cramps and cold teeth to last for days.

Different? Unforgettable? Hope we can do it again? Check. Check. And Check.

Four votes for the win.