An Ode to the Bootpack
Intro: The Jackson Hole skiing experience is loaded with eccentricities, many of which I am just beginning to recognize as unusual. After a cold and happy childhood on the east coast, I moved to Jackson to pursue the “dream”….as it were.
The immense difference between Killington, VT, and Jackson, WY made initial recognition of subtlety difficult. I assumed every norm in Jackson to be the norm in backcountry skiing everywhere. Only now, 5 years later, am I able to truly distinguish what’s standard, and what sets this place apart. Now, with the power to categorize, I choose to celebrate. Welcome to Jackson Love Letters.
An Ode to the Bootpack
“It’s a community service, if you have the privilege (and the guts) to be first, you better start swimming.”
Those are the words my friend Jet Eugene told me when I encountered my first blank bootpack.
“Blank” because I knew where the bootpack should be, “blank” because it snowed 22 inches the night before.
After nearly an entire season skiing and hiking in the Jackson Hole backcountry I was still taking the regularity of the preset bootpack for granted. As a young sailer south of the Tram, bootpacks were my stars–they guided me safely through new and dangerous terrain. This line was accessed by this bootpack which then funneled to that bootpack which in turn dropped you at the beginning of that sidestep which *finally* got you back home safe.
It wasn’t until years later, when I was confident enough to show out-of-towners around that the peculiarity of the bootpack culture was made apparent. For most, the idea of going far from the resort, into the unmitigated, unserviced wilderness without touring gear seems reckless. For visitors, that level of exploration has only just become possible with the advent of modern touring technology.
Why Jackson has had a culture of bootpacking is simple. We were the first to venture out. Long before “backcountry” skiing was the routine sport it is today, a bold and lawless group was forming in Jackson. They peered beyond the boundaries of the resort, and once they saw what was out there, there was no stopping them. The normal dangers of the backcountry were compounded with legal hazards, jail time and lifetime bans were handed down to those caught outside the lines. A division formed, and outlaw culture flourished once again in the west.
But the story of the Jackson Hole Airforce warrants its own Love Letter, so let me just remind you of this, we did it first. And so it was done as best as it could be with the tools of the time. Soon it was discovered which ridges could be traveled without ropes, which faces never slide, and how to get safely from point A to point B.
Practice made perfect, and then practice made religion.
In feudal England, where most swordsmen were right handed, travelers prefered to keep to the left side of the road–in order to keep their fighting arm nearer to any possible opponent and their scabbard further. Now, over 600 years later, Brits are part of the global minority that abide by strict law which mandates they drive on the left side of the road.
In Jackson, in the era of the pin binding and tech boot, we still share the burden of setting the Four Pines booter. At way less than 30 degrees, Four Pines would be a straightforward skin track, any switchbacking would be unnecessary. And yet, that wonderful hip high slog remains a staple.
And what has this irrational devotion to post-holing given us?
It gives those without the ability to afford two pairs of boots, two pairs of skis, and two pairs of bindings, the ability to explore the backcountry. Having a “touring set-up” isn’t prerequisite (although a knowledgeable friend/guide is). Furthermore, it aided Jackson in cultivating the extreme reputation it is now famous for. The big straight Lines, huge stomps, and techy faces of the early TGR era would not have been possible if those skiers had been limited to using pins.
But change is inevitable. This year I found myself setting booters to zones that had already been skied. And that’s fine, attempts to stop progress always seem juvenile and often fail anyways. But it saddens me that setting the bootpack is no longer the burden of the bold–and first tracks are no longer the spoils. What an honor it is to sweat and wade, to create with each step the needle on the compass that will guide all travelers who follow.
What a privilege it is to be the first to drop in.
More importantly, how wonderful is it to be second?! To have a fellow skier sweat on your behalf–their ambition becoming your reward.
A preset skin track is a distant shadow of the bootpack. Wandering and superficial compared to the deep and direct guidance of a truly worn booter.
Where we go from here is unclear, binding companies are making touring bindings more reliable than ever and zagging scars have become commonplace on Powder 8 face. So let’s celebrate this moment in time, this twilight of an era, this tiny bit of culture that separates us from the rest.
God Bless the Bootpack.
Words by Jim Ryan
Photos by Amy Jimmerson