Time Machine Rich Landers/The Spokesman-Review Once Viewed As The Enemy, Snowmobiles Give Some Nordic Skiers A Lift To The Sport They Love
The skiers were apologetic at first, as they tested each other’s threshold for upward mobility.
They had rendezvoused north of Sandpoint at the snowline on a forest road that led into the Selkirk Mountains.
“I never thought I’d need this much equipment to go skiing,” said Jim Pace, blushing from the back of a club-cab pickup.
He looked at the trailers carrying three snowmobiles and shrugged his shoulders.
“I’ve never been able to get used to the exhaust,” said Carl Renfro as he helped unload one of the machines. “But I like where they take me.”
A few decades ago, this group of guys was more likely to be driving VW vans or riding bicycles as they talked down on motorheads.
John Monks, who operates ski lifts at Schweitzer, still prefers the holiness of trekking into the backcountry purely by muscle-power.
But his attitude about snowmobiles has evolved.
“Having kids has changed a lot in my life,” he said, as he crawled onto a snowmobile that cost more than two decades’ worth of season passes at a ski resort.
“This is my ticket to the high-country,” he said.
Towing a sled to haul their skis and packs, the skiers roared 7.5 miles up the logging roads in a half an hour.
Access to the alpine ridges would have taken at least a full morning on skis.
The snowmobiles gained several thousand feet in elevation, going from mud to powder, in less time than it takes to wax skis and properly chew a granola bar.
They shut down the machines in a saddle on a ridge that led up toward the Selkirk Crest.
Serious snowmobilers could easily have continued on from that spot, but these were serious skiers.
“We park them here and let them sit,” said Pace.
“The snowmobiles have done their job,” said Renfro.
Traveling with the benefit of fresh legs and climbing skins, they broke trail up the ridge to where the snow got even better. Each took a turn at the top of the climb to dig a 7-foot-deep pit for studying the snow layers and avalanche potential.
Their avalanche transceivers were pulsing against their chests. Snow shovels were ready in their packs. Yet they steered clear of avalanche-prone slopes.
Then, with plenty of daylight remaining, they ripped through the untracked snow like renegades mucking up a quiet neighborhood.
These are guys with jobs and families and 401(k) plans. They were skiing not in their dreams, but on real backcountry powder.
“This isn’t a copout,” Monks said back at the snowmobiles. “It’s reality.”
His last run high in the Selkirks came shortly before sunset, yet he didn’t have to dig a snow cave and spend the night. His pickup was just a half an hour away down a packed snowmobile track.
Parenthood has forced some backcountry skiers to make difficult choices.
For these pinheads, giving up biases was better than giving up the backcountry.
“This is my way of sticking with a sport I love,” Monks said. “I can ski powder on the Selkirk Crest during the day and still be home in time to read my kids a bedtime story.”
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