2004 DTR - Jackson Hole, Wyoming

The sign at the base of the tram says it all: " Our mountain is like nothing you have ever skied before." True. True indeed. Jackson Hole is the crowning jewel among lift-accessed ski areas. When it comes to freeriding, there is no contest; you can get as rad as you need to. It is not fair really, with a 4000-foot vertical drop and the lower mountain just as steep as the top, if you are not prepared, this place will own you. Here legends are made. Iguchi, Jones and the all mighty Johan have all called this place home, and I'll tell you it is not for the park. The locals here know what they want and could care less what you think. To truly fit in first you will need a backpack, complete with shovel, prob and peeps. Second, a filthy-ass jacket duct taped at the seams should do you just fine. Also, you must have a beard. If you can't grow one, dreads are OK. And last but not least, a Subaru sedan, preferably '86 or earlier complete with a "free the heal" or Cliff Bar sticker may drastically improve your chances of acceptance.

The other thing Jackson is known for would be the sub-zero nipple stiffening weather conditions. I am pretty sure I have never felt cold like this before. The morning temp our first day was -15, no joke. My method of coping with these conditions was first, to laugh, then of course, panic. This type of cold, I am sure plays a big role in weeding out the pussies from the truly grizzled. Perhaps I was weeded out.

There is a new breed of shredders that inhabit these parts nowadays. The frozen wastelands have produced the arctic grom. Cunning and clever, these hatchlings are no match for the much slower and slightly dazed snow hero like myself. The youth are hungry as was demonstrated at our ceremonial rail contest. The herds of weasels took turn after turn sessioning the flat bar. 270's to misty grabs and the frontside lipper to beat down took honors as best tricks or the day. We also had another pinata party, which I will say is the funniest thing yet. I spun this one kid out of commission. He chose to gus up, swallow his barf then continue to smack the crap out of Spongebob. Once the inards were expose I witnessed a real life version of Hungry Hungry Hippos in a mad scramble for product. Despite the annoyance these pests create, we must accept that they are our future. In turn, they were rewarded with goods from snowboarding's finest publication. Another sweet success. Snowboarder Magazine continues its reign of terror on the way to complete and total domination.

Snowboarder Magazine's Best of Jackson Hole:
Best place to get frostbite
Best place to feel guilty about riding the park