The Memorial Ride

Another activity I participated in while visiting Wyoming was a ride up behind our valley to the site of the avalanche that took the life of three men, including my sister's husband, in January. There were many people on this trek, including two babies. We took ten horses and four 4-wheelers. We trailered the horses to the trail head, then saddled them and rode about two miles uphill to the meadow. It had been a favorite destination for my brother-in-law on many snowmachine and horse trips over the decades he'd lived here.

I've seen pictures of the mountain and the debris, but until I rode up there, I had no idea of the immensity of this avalanche. It is hard to imagine how they found these men at all in the vast area where they had been buried. As my sister showed us around, she pointed out landmarks. "Here was his helmet, over here we found his soda can and a glove. Way over there was his windshield." His machine was fifty yards away from his body.

This was the second avalanche he'd been in. I've a seen a video of the first one. Someone was filming the riders as they went up a hillside and just kept filming as he was swallowed up by the snow, not in a ghoulish way, but because it happened so quickly that the video just kept running as the person's brain hadn't quite registered that it was an avalanche covering up a man. That time his effort to "swim" up out of it worked and as the snow stopped flowing, and settled into the heaviness of cement that it does, his gloved hand shot up to the surface and everyone could dig him out immediately. In January, the rescue squad said they found him with his hands up again, but it was many feet below the surface, and several hours after the event.

It is an inspiring place. I can see why he'd return to this spot, in every season, year after year. My sister said he always insisted that everyone just stop and look around and savor the atmosphere, whether they'd arrived on snow machines or horses. He felt like it was a place that should be treated as reverently as church. It was a spiritual environment to him. It definitely is a sanctuary now, not just for the three bereft families. The search and rescue workers were all close friends of the men who died there, and in addition to the small stone my sister placed there in his honor, the squad is creating a memorial that they are going to install along the trail to honor their companions and brothers.

This is my eighty year old aunt who is aboard a 31 year old horse. I hope I'm this adventurous when I'm 80.


This is one of the babies riding with her grandma. Mom and Dad were at the county fair, competing on their horses in some events. This little cowgirl was six months old on that day. She rode a 4-wheeler up the hill and a horse back down. She's a real Wyoming girl, huh?


This is the path of the avalanche. It broke off the ridge, scooped up all the trees in the "V" area and filled the meadow below and splashed up the opposite side. Ten acres, ten feet deep. There are trees lying in the debris field that are eight feet in diameter that were snapped off like you'd break off a cattail. (Looking east)

For the first time in my life, I saw what was on the other side of the mountains that I've looked at all my life while standing in my mom's yard. Fifty-five years of wondering, fulfilled. When I was quite small, I thought that New York City was there--it was east, after all, and I knew that over the mountains, to the east, was NYC. Hmmm...a little further east however, it turned out. (This is looking west)

This is looking north. You can see why he felt like this was a sacred spot each time he visited. It is serene, awe-inspiring, and completely spectacular. Very few of us can spend our last moment on earth in an spot that soothes our soul and makes us acutely conscious of the reality of a loving God. It just happened too soon for those he left behind.