NEVER SUMMER: The real last tram

Driving up to Teton Village a few days ago hoping to get some turns, I was struck by a realization that heretofore I’d had difficulty accepting: There’s actually not that much snow in June. Attempting to ski, it seemed, would be a pathetic and gratuitous attempt by some winter junkies (i.e. my brother and I) to fend off the inevitable arrival of the hot and stickies (i.e. that period between Memorial Day and Labor Day oft referred to as summer).

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Not only were we looking at mountains that didn’t have any snow below 9,000 feet, but incoming clouds, bruised deep purple with moisture, showed the promise of rain. Our plan was to hitch a ride with the Jackson Hole Tram—to get one last ride on the famous red box before the resort retires it after this summer tourist season—and hike for turns on Cody Peak. There had to be snow up there, I thought, tenacious carpets of white where winter is damn near the only season. But what, seriously, would be the point? So I could be like that one guy who stands at the bar loudly announcing to anyone within earshot how he skied in June, hoping to impress that one young girl who just moved to town from one of the Carolinas and is not yet quite learned on the whole machismo madness of Teton competition to outdo your neighbor and is still enamored by the thought of some burly dude who skis in the summer? Nah, I didn’t want to be that guy. The girl would’ve been nice, but I was mostly in to go for a hike and ski down afterward.

So for at least one more day, we let our fly rods rest. Mountain bikes remained leaning against the storage shed, the kayaks were left to lie on the cold garage floor. If nothing else, the ski would make the afternoon beers that much more refreshing.

We shared the tram with five other people, four tourists and the operator. As we neared the summit, we felt the temperature drop, and Cody Peak came into view. Though the summit of Rendezvous Mountain was just dirt, Cody’s flanks proved that we weren’t crazy. There was plenty of snow above 10,000 feet, the result of Jackson having a banner winter.

During the summer, Jackson Hole Mountain Resort lets you take the tram—rising to 10,450 feet—to access the out of bounds, meaning you get a 4,000-foot head start on skiing lines in Grand Teton National Park and the surrounding national forest. You’re not allowed to ski inbounds, but that’s moot anyway because only the north-facing slopes on the high peaks hold snow. With the snowline being a bit up there, getting back down means either a six-mile mud march or climbing back up to the tram. Next season, getting to these goods will not be as easy. The resort is retiring the 40-year-old tram this fall, saying its age is beginning to compromise skier safety. Rendezvous will still be lift-served, however, as just a few weeks ago Jackson announced that it would be installing a two-man chairlift from the top of the Sublette quad to the summit.

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From the view atop Rendezvous, we could see Cody’s regulars: Four Shadows, Central, and the more conservative Powder Eights. We opted for the short, easy hike to Powder Eights instead of climbing up and over the steep cornices and scree fields leading to Four Shadows, which was pockmarked with boulders and avalanche debris. Central held pretty much no snow.

Far below in the valley, the Snake River flowed like chocolate milk, swollen with runoff, braided ribbons of brown weaving in and out of lush cottonwood forests. A cold rain spit on us as we climbed Cody’s face, and within minutes my gloves were soaked. But with each boot I kicked into the snow, and with each step up, I felt the familiarity of winter filling my veins.

The hike up Cody was short, maybe 15 minutes. But it was enough to bring my mind and body back a few months. Reaching the top, we had that satisfying relaxation that comes when you know there’s nothing left to do but step in and let gravity take over. We chatted about the rain while contemplating the tempting north face of No Name Peak just to the south. But that would have to wait another season.

With nothing left to do but ski, we clicked in, and dropped into easy tele turns down the Powder Eights face. The snow was better than we’d anticipated—about four inches of smooth, if wet, corn. At the bottom, my brother recognized the beauty of being a lifelong skier. “It doesn’t matter how long you take off of your skis, you never forget,” he said. “It’s like walking.”

Just a lot better, even in June. And with that, we hiked back up for more.

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