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A Walk Back in Time
On a snowshoe tour with A.J. DeRosa, guests meander like a mountain
man, then dine in luxury in a riverside tipi.
By Jim Stanford
The snow crunches underfoot as our party hikes through the woods,
plodding like penguins over the undulating curves of the river
bottom. A pack on my back and snowshoes strapped to my boots, I feel
like a trapper tracking beaver in the early days of Jackson Hole.
It’s late December, and three friends and I are following A.J.
DeRosa on a tour of the forest surrounding his camp on the Snake
River, about eight miles south of Wilson. A Christmas snowstorm has
blanketed the valley in a cushion of white, a relief after several
depressing rains. Trip and Susan, visiting from South Carolina, were
looking for an activity off the slopes. Knees sore from pounding the
powder, I welcomed the change of pace. Robin, who usually glides
along the river on cross-country skis, was eager to try a mellow
snowshoe trek.
DeRosa, breaking a shallow trail, pauses in front of us at a set of
tracks. “Moose,” he says, tracing the outline of the hooves. The
dotted line circles the trees where the ungulate likely stopped to
feed. A little farther, we come across another set of prints. “These
are from a coyote,” DeRosa explains, showing how the steps proceed
in a straight line, following an old snowshoe trail. “A coyote is
very purposeful,” he says. Because food can be scarce in winter,
“They will do anything they can to save energy.”
The cottonwoods, leafless and more than 60 feet tall, loom above us
as the sun dips low in the sky. DeRosa calls this grove the “black
forest,” and the grainy, dark gray bark, contrasted against the
snow, brings to mind an Ansel Adams photograph. A stocky Chicago
native who talks with a hint of a Ditka accent, DeRosa knows these
woods well, having guided clients on fishing and float trips along
the Snake since 1973. This is his third winter leading snowshoe
tours after twenty-seven years of ski patrolling at the Jackson Hole
and Snow King resorts.
On our feet we are wearing Alaskan-style wooden snowshoes, long and
narrow and designed to float a heavy load, even in light powder.
DeRosa explains that snowshoes have been an effective mode of travel
for more than two thousand years. Native Americans used woven
branches or wood and hides for their shoes, he says, and passed on
the technology to the explorers and fur traders who ventured into
these mountains in the early nineteenth century. Some of the various
styles of snowshoes are named for the tribes that wore them, such as
Huron and Michigan. DeRosa calls them “four-wheel-drive for your
feet.”
He prefers wood shoes instead of the more modern metal designs
because he’s old-fashioned at heart. The choice is in keeping with
the fleet of McKenzie River-style wooden drift boats he uses for his
outfitting business in summer. He appreciates craftsmanship and
tradition. He keeps on hand wooden Swedish mountain rescue toboggans
for clients who wish to tow their kids through the snow.
A wisp of breeze blows through the trees, stinging our rosy cheeks.
DeRosa leads us into a clearing where the panorama of the Tetons
stretches to the north. We climb and stand on a bank overlooking the
Snake River, black as onyx against the snow. Below us the mouth of
Taylor Creek meets the Snake, and in a pool of water float four
trumpeter swans. They notice our presence and explode from the eddy
in an alarum of trumpets, their black webbed feet slapping the
surface of the water as they scurry into flight. DeRosa shuffles
upstream along the creek, and as we follow he points out a beaver
lodge and piles of branches and willows the beavers have stacked for
their winter food cache. Farther upstream, a bald eagle circles with
wings outstretched, riding a current of air.
The days are short at this time of year, and we can feel darkness
fast approaching. The tips of the peaks are pink with alpenglow.
DeRosa leads us down the bank, which has been lit with lanterns,
until we see white smoke trailing from the top of a tipi. Holly, his
cook, greets us with hot spiced cider at a spot beside the river
DeRosa calls Campfire Point. There are imprints on the snow where
otters frolicked the day before. The cider warms our bellies as we
rub our hands in front of the crackling flames and nibble from a
plate of cheese and vegetables. Trip lends a hand chopping wood, and
I take the women for our first glimpse inside the tipi.
“Wow!” exclaims a wide-eyed Susan as she ducks and peers into the
twenty-foot-tall cone. The floor is carpeted, and three futons with
blankets and pillows line the perimeter. A woodstove makes for a
toasty, cozy atmosphere. “This is nicer than most of the rental
places in Jackson,” quips Robin. We plop down on the futons. DeRosa
soon joins us, and he points out some of the design features of the
tipi: Snow runs off the exterior, and the hole at the top makes for
a natural chimney. The heavy-duty canvas is supported by a frame of
lodgepole pine poles, sanded smooth and oiled. Turns out DeRosa
lived in a tipi on a friend’s land one summer to save money. With
his tanned skin and encyclopedic knowledge of nature, he could pass
for an Indian, were he not a jazz-loving Cubs fan with a taste for
gourmet food.
Holly announces it’s time to eat, and we delve into a feast of
grilled beef tenderloin and salmon, asparagus with lemon butter and
toasted almonds, and potatoes baked in a dutch oven atop the
woodstove. We pop open two bottles of Cabernet we have brought in
our backpacks. DeRosa retreats to the cook tent, leaving us to laugh
and drink heartily around the fire. A short while later, Holly
arrives with dessert and coffee. The homemade chocolate cake with
whipped cream and powdered chocolate leaves our heads spinning.
After an hour or so of relaxing, we wish we had brought down-filled
sleeping bags to spend the night. The stars twinkle magnificently
above, the air is crisp, and the camp is quiet, save for the whisper
of the river. Reluctantly, we make our way out, trudging back to our
car under the glow of moonlight. It will be well below zero tonight,
too cold for a sleepover, but my inner mountain man wishes I were
back in the forest with the coyotes, snug inside the tipi and dozing
off to the sound of the rushing water.
NUTS AND BOLTS:
A.J. DeRosa’s Wildlife Snowshoe Adventure start on private land 7.5
miles south of the town of Wilson. Transportation from hotels is
available. Guides, snowshoes and a lesson are provided, and all ages
are welcome. Trips start at $95 per person, lunch and dinner cost
extra, depending on the menu. Lunch trips depart mid-morning, and
dinner in mid-afternoon. Custom trips and private parties are
DeRosa’s specialty. For reservations, phone (307) 732-COAT.(2628) On
the Web: www.woodboattours.com/winter.
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