The “Men’s Trip”
A Snowmobile Chronicle
Photo taken 1992, on a disposable camera during this trip. Sorry for the quality but hey, it’s retro & everyone loves retro these days, right?
Many years ago, when I was in college, I was invited on an “all men” snowmobile trip. Sounds intriguing, right? Just me and the guys! Total cool girl…
Well it’s not what you’re thinking. This trip was actually with my grandpa and his buddies who at age 22 seemed a little ancient - just saying (sad part is they weren’t a whole lot older than I am now). I wasn’t really sure what to expect but I jumped at the opportunity. We picked up the snowmobiles in Duck Creek where they’re stored and hauled our luggage many miles up to the family cabin in the mountains of Southern Utah which was otherwise completely inaccessible that time of year. I’d actually never visited the cabin before in the winter. The meadow was completely blanketed in snow, the creek turned to ice glistening in the sun. At the meadow’s edge, the treetops were dusted in snow like icing on a cake. It was truly magical. We turned off the meadow road and started the ascent up the steep roads toward the red rock cliffs upon which the cabin sat. As we drove up the rocky almost 90 degree angle driveway to the rim (okay, maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration) , we were greeted by the most incredible sight. A huge thick fog had rolled in, blanketing the mountain tops. Here we were, perched high above it looking down as if standing in the heavens above, rays of golden sunshine rising up through the dense cloud cover as the sun started its slow descent below the horizon.
Photo taken 1992, on a disposable camera on the front deck of the cabin.
That night my grandfather made his infamous cheese dip and it was Budweiser all around. We stayed up late playing cards as the fire crackled in the old cast iron fireplace heating the room as the winds howled outside.
The next morning, I got up early and was mortified when my grandfather handed me a bright neon puffy yellow snow bib to wear. Remember I had just started college and fashion was a big deal. After a look of “hell no,” I reluctantly gave in and put it on with all the other thick ungodly layers he directed me to wear. Grandpa patted me on the back so hard I almost toppled over, “good girl, now we’re ready for some fun!”
Photo: Grandpa in his classic, ever so stylish snowmobile outfit.
He let out the family whistle, causing momentary deafness in my right ear, alerting the troops as I rolled my eyes and cringed (again, I was 22). Apparently, we were ready to ride! We followed him single file out the patio doors and climbed onto our machines, helmets on and engines roaring. Grandpa looked like a kid in a candy store full of uncontrollable excitement as he revved the motor loudly. I couldn’t help but laugh and just shake my head at him.
We were soon on our way, grandpa taking shot gun as he very slowly and very cautiously led us down the insanely steep driveway onto the snow covered mountain roads. This isn’t too bad I thought to myself. I can totally do this. What a breeze. A nice mellow drive, follow the leader. I mean, I would like to have some fun and see what this machine can actually do but I wouldn’t want to jeopardize my grandpa’s frail health. I mean isn’t he just a few years away from retirement home living?
I began to lose myself in thought on the leisurely cruise, chipmunks and squirrels scurrying out of the way, blue jays fluttering in the trees. A gentle breeze in the crisp winter air. It was really quite magical this winter wonderland. At this point, we had reached a large clear area that I didn’t recognize all covered in snow. It was so peaceful and serene.
Grandpa began to slow down circling around us. I figured it was rule time. He was always a stickler for giving us kids a big old laundry list of dos and don’ts. But much to my surprise, he suddenly let out a huge shriek like a manly cry to war, “let em rip fellas.!” “And you too gal,” he nodded in my direction with a mischievous grin. And that folks was the moment in my life when I realized my grandpa was a serious bad ass! He revved that motor up loud and strong, and went flying out of there like a bat out of hell screaming, “hee haw” at the top of his lungs laughing hysterically!
Holy crap! What did I get myself into? I took a deep breath, said a silent prayer and went flying after him scared out of my mind to be going so fast yet, I still just could not keep up with him. He rode circles around me like a complete an utter maniac. Screaming and yelling, hooting and hollering. It was crazy! It was insane! Hell, it was completely awe-inspiring!!
I was so impressed and proud! Boy, had I been wrong about how this trip would go down.
Photo taken 1992, on a disposable camera of the “men”.
We spent an entire week up there flying around on snow mobiles like complete and utter lunatics, the trees just a blur as we whizzed by, screaming out with utter joy at the freedom of it all! Can’t tell you how many times I got stuck in snow completely up to my waist as the others just laughed and did donuts around me. Giggling and playing like little kids. Grandpa always WAY far ahead, me trying to catch up with no chance of ever reaching him. It was exhilarating.
When it was finally time to go, I was truly disappointed to be heading back to my boring college dorm room. As we made our way out of the zig zag icy mountain roads and onto the main freeway home, grandpa pulled over and gave me the keys to his suburban, “you drive.”
Sure, why not? Sounds fun. I pulled back onto the busy highway and he directed me to enter the carpool lane, which I did. I think I was going a conservative 75 mph, which is pretty average for Southern California, maybe even slow by some standards, when he told me I better watch the gas and slow it down. Slow it down? In the fast lane? Really! I don’t think so. I started to pull right into the slower lanes but he told me to stay put, forcing me to set cruise control at 60. Well, if you’re from SoCal, I guarantee your jaw just dropped. So not cool! But there I was with my grandpa, what the heck was I supposed to do? So, I set the cruise control at 60, took a deep breath and prepared myself for the longest, most painful drive home in the history of mankind. Cars were honking at me, flashing their lights from behind, whizzing by, craning their necks to flash me dirty looks, and all I could think of is where the heck did the maniac on the snowmobile go?