Jackson Hole

One does not need to know me extremely well to know that I'm not exactly what one might call "outdoorsy".

Yet somehow I managed to survive three days of the death-defying snow sport called Skiing in natural beauty-filled Jackson Hole, Wyoming. We travelled with our friends Colleen and Sean (or Dana and Christopher-- I'm convinced they're super-heroes with alter-egos and two names each) and got to visit with our friends Matt & Fany, Whitney, Kenny and Chris who are all ski-bumming there for the season. I have never seen people happier to see a big snowfall.

A ski trip with hard-core ski fiends, I've learned, involves certain levels of endurance and fearlessness. I didn't really pack enough of these things, so there were a couple of bouts of crazy on Day 1* (see photo below).

Will told me on this trip (and not once before in the 3.5 years we've been dating) that he was the New York state champ in some skiing thing (a race, perhaps?) when he was in high school. So he and I skiing together would be the equivalent of us going on a Theater Vacation where the reason everyone is there is to act act act. He's on the Shakespeare of slopes, I'm learning how to read.

Here are some photographic highlights from our weekend in the snow:

Will had to take photos of himself, as I was doing battle a few meters down with some serious bunny slope.

Someone else must have taken this one...

Maybe it was Colleen and Sean, seen here documenting their snowy fun fun.
Note who is not in these photos.
Hint: me.

*Oh, this was fun. Colleen, bless her heart, thought I was doing really well on my first day ever on skis. Thinking that I was ready for something a little more challenging, we went up up up to a slope called "Apres Vous".

What we did not know was that this slope was a Double Blue, which is apparently the West Coast equivalent to an East Coast Black Diamond. (click on the photo and take note of the word "Avalanche" in the sign on the left.)

Terrified, I ended up taking the skis off and scooting down on my butt, knocking poor Colleen down with my slip-slidey insanity in the process. After what felt like a lifetime on my butt, we made it to a mellow traverse, where I was allowed by the world's friendliest lift operators to ride the lift down. Consolation prize: we saw a momma and baby moose in the woods on the way.

Seriously. It seemed this steep.
(Note: This is not my bunny slope.)

Will with our friend Fany.
His skis with her snowboard.

And here it is. Proof. I was there.
I got lots of compliments on those pants.
Shockingly, not so many compliments on my ski skills...

I think aprés ski in the hot tub is the whole reason people put themselves through the rigor of the sport. This is by far the best part (sorry, ski aficionados).

We stayed at The Rusty Parrot, a lovely bed & breakfast just off the center of town. If you're planning a trip to Jackson, I highly recommend it. The staff was fantastic, the bed plush and the restaurant a real treat. And the outdoor hot tub-- need I say more?

Well, actually, if you're really lucky, you know Matt and Fany and they'll cook you dinner. But you have to be truly in the know for that one... Nothing like some home cookin' (by two culinary trained pro chefs) after a long day of scooting down a mountain!