And They’re Off

We picked our way across the slush covered parking lot trying our best to avoid ankle deep puddles amongst the line of entering cars. The senses were familiar – the drawl of the announcer over the PA, the smell of horses and hay, the site of new and old western wears. Yet the snow that blanketed the landscape and cold temperatures seemed to contradict my minds assumptions. Suddenly the announcer cried out “Anaaaaaad here we go!” my eyes lifted just in time to see a horse dig deep for traction, the rider hunched low by its neck encouraging the horse on as it catapulted across the snow-covered field. About twenty feet behind the horse a man on skis jolted into motion, holding onto a rope for dear life. My brain finally put two-and-two together, this was no under-the-lights summer night rodeo, we were here to see… skijorning?

Skijorning for the unindoctrinated is a race competition in which a skier is towed by a horse (though in Alaska they have a variation involving snowmachines) through a slalom course that often includes jumps and banked turns. Like downhill skiing competitors race against the clock while trying to ensure they make it through each gate. While the word suggests the sports roots lie in Scandinavia, Leadville Colorado lays claim to the first race back in 1949. At first glance skijorning appears to be a novelty attraction, but its serious business with a national association and even a quarterly magazine. 

Standing next to the starting corral, the event had the feel of a rodeo as riders kept their horses calm amongst the commotion of the event. Skiers stood nearby adjusting buckles, stretching sore muscles, and generally trying to keep themselves busy while they nervously waited their turn. Kids played amongst the snow mounds and haybales that lined the course. The two announcers provided color commentary interspersed with cowboy humor between racers. 

As another competitor streaked by the crowd whistled and cheered and it occurred to me that skijorning is quintessential New West. The town of Driggs where the event was being held is at the base of Teton mountain range. Historically a farming community, Driggs has seen a significant increase in its population over the past twenty years due in large part to the outdoor recreational amenities the area has to offer.  The local ski resort Grand Targhee boasts some of the best skiing in Idaho and about 40 minutes over the pass is the iconic Jackson Hole Resort. For fisherman opportunities abound from the Teton river just outside downtown to the world-renowned Henry’s Fork due north. But amongst accessory covered SUVs and drift boats still lies the flatbed Fords with a cattle dog perched on the toolbox. At least for now there are still open fields flanked by wheel-lines and cattle trucks passing through seasonally.

The Old West evokes images of the cowboy, the rugged individual working the vast open landscape and whose connection to place runs back generations. The New West is often characterized by the recreation minded transplant. The van-lifer whose roots are so shallow they barely break the topsoil and whose work landscape is a laptop at the local coffee shop. There is an inherent conflict between the old and the new, as farm fields give way to subdivisions, the cost of living increases, and the corner café switches the menu from bacon and eggs to oat milk lattes and gluten free scones. Yet here at the county fairgrounds it seems to work. The crowd was a mix with just as many Carhart jackets and stormy kromers as there were ski pants and pom-pom beanies. PBRs tipped towards IPAs and smiles exchanged as another competitor streaks just under the finish line. I have no dissolutions that skijorning will solve any cultural or political divides there might be in the West. But I do believe all of us huddled along the orange snow fence would agree, it’s a good ol’ time.