I’m not one for New Year’s resolutions, but I am one for reflection. Contrary to popular belief, 2020 did not begin at the Elk’s Lodge or Continuum Hotel, but rather on March 13th, when my friend Jim (who does not have a television) sat in my living room watching “President” Tr*mp announce the travel ban between Europe and the United States, only further alluding to the increasing worry regarding a new virus we had been subtly joking about just weeks prior. That Sunday, Jackson Hole Mountain Resort announced its closure after some 20 odd inches had fallen over night, due to “avalanche danger.” Locals flocked to Snow King. I hadn’t skinned up once yet, but I arrived with my uphill gear to “get some exercise.” The mountain was a glorified quagmire topped with snow soaked water, or perhaps water soaked snow. In a long line of anxious, powder panicked locals, I didn’t even make it halfway up before returning to my car with a pang of uneasiness. …


Jenna Mahaffie

Unapologetically me.

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