WHYoming

A forest fire thirty miles away choked the air with so much smoke it felt like a foggy morning back in Maine. On clear days, Wyoming’s blue sky reveals the towering Grand Tetons above Jenny Lake. On this day, you could only feel their presence, hidden behind a veil of smoke. Nine of us gathered by the lake, mulling around its rocky edges on an October afternoon. The lake temp was in the forties. I didn’t want to, but I knew I was going to get in that water.

A few weeks ago I left home to finish the final phase of a project in Jackson Hole, one we’d been working on for three years. I resisted that, too. I didn’t want to come back for one last push. I knew what lay in store.

Most of the ten-hour days were purely physical—breaking down rough slabs of limestone into usable chunks. We flipped them, rolled them, dragged them into position, and smashed them with sledgehammers. I ate like a hog every night and still lost five pounds in eight days.

But the hardest part wasn’t the work. It was leaving—leaving Eliza, leaving home, leaving the ongoing projects I’m excited about. Why leave all that when there’s nothing I’m running from?

The people.

I want to wrestle rocks and talk strategy with Bryce from Massachusetts. I want to catch up with Matt and Jabez from Connecticut and hear about their projects. Has James from Kentucky found any new arrowheads? Is Jessea from New Zealand still chasing an endless summer? How are things with Nels in Nevada City? And how did Ursa, half my age, already get so good?

I’ve been lucky to work with these folks and others from all over the country. There’s nothing like shared hard labor under the pressure of a deadline to form deep bonds. These are my people. This is how we connect. That’s why I go to Wyoming.

Near the end of the trip, we gathered at Jenny Lake. The smoke was thick, the water freezing. I’m not one for cold plunges, but I knew I had to go in. It hurt like hell. My breath caught in my chest from the shock, but I eventually composed myself. By the time I got out I was calm, grounded, and oddly euphoric.