Taking Full Advantage: Part I

As winter has begun knocking, my focus on trout has become far less. I now shift towards a winter season of pond hockey. Last Fall, my new life in the high plains required me to rethink the way I spend my winter months. Much the opposite of Texas, Wyoming's winters hardly allow any safe exploration beneath the surface of water... but what about above? The ice that forms on all surrounding waterways, while denying me access to fish on a fly, presents opportunity for me to explore the new surfaces above.

Hockey is an obsession engraved in me from the very beginning, much similar to fly fishing. Growing up in San Antonio, it was hard to convince my parents to allow me to pursue this outlandish sport. By November of last fall, a local pond had frozen thoroughly enough for recreation. Through the grapevine, my buddies and I heard of how a local pond had apprently been cleared and maintained for pond hockey. Over Christmas break, I acquired a pair of skates, and by mid-January we were skating on the pond on a daily basis. On weekends, we'd gather up to 20 people on the ice for full-on games of 3-on-3 pond-style hockey, and just llike that, my obsession with hockey was even more solidified.

Now, a goal has been set to explore all of Southeast Wyoming's waterways in search of areas to endulge in this beautiful winter tradition. As someone who has found the most happiness in outdoor exploration and has obsessed over this sport since I can remember; it is fulfilling to take part in the roots of a game I adore, while also using it as a reason to explore.

Join us, as we've begun a long winter's worth of exploration through pond hockey:

The sun etched shades of green into the tips of the pines, as it descended beneath the rocky horizon. My step dad and I encountered this scene of a frozen beaver pond in the late fall. When I saw the ice, the first thing I thought of was my urge to get out and skate. It'd be cool to skate here, I thought to myself.

I stared at the beaver pond, making my way along the trail. My focus turned to my toes - step after step, as I began thinking of all the open water in the area that would be frozen for the entire winter. This idea turned into a proposal to my group of guys; and just like that, a proposal turned into a very loose plan of action.

Alpines in mind - shovels, sticks, skates, pucks and less-than-firm wooden pond hockey nets were piled into our CR-V and Forester, along with eight guys weary of my proposal. We pulled into the closed dirt road after an hour of ascent into the mountains, and trekked about half a mile on a snowcovered forest road, before we peered into the reflection of our desired alpine lake.

Scanning the banks, ice bordered the rim of the lake, while open water shimmered against the edge of the ice. Before us was an ice beach in an alpine-pond hockey dream.

We took to the ice with shovels. Under the three-to-five inch layer of snow was smooth, gentle ice. Our blades etched into the snow, as we outlined our temporary rink with our shovels. Wind rolled over the tallest peak, funneling its way across the water's surface and pushing snow across the rocks surrounding our temporary rink.

Moments of serenity interrupted our bursts of intense hockey action. We couldn't help but admire the water dancing onto the surface of the ice. The rugged intensity of the sport of hockey reminds me of the nature of the alpine region, itself. Moments of glory easily countered by the unforgiving elements that surround it, along with all of the unwritten rules that cause a level of respect among those within it.

In the game of hockey, something so little as the bounce of a puck can change the course or momentum of a game. In nature, factors as miniscule as wind and sun determine every little condition - every little feature. A couple weeks after our alpine skate, me and a friend took to the beaver ponds.

We found the ponds to each have their own personality due to their specific placement around trees, exposure to wind, and numerous other factors. Whether separated by a mere brushline or by several hundred yards of trails and stream, each beaver pond was completely different. Some presented smooth sections where snow kept wind from being a factor, while others contrasted by representing that of an icy hell - completely unskatable. Completely unexplainable.