All About Jackson Hole

short version: it's pretty magical & I think it changed my life?

Aaron kept calling it Henry’s farewell tour, which I do not appreciate, but certainly we were all aware that this was his last spring break before college, and of course I wanted to go big—ten days in Europe? Machu Picchu? Tour of Sweden, Holland and Ireland, because Aaron’s mostly Swedish and I’m mostly Dutch & Irish, a deep-dive into our ancestral homelands? The aforementioned high school senior, however, hates long flights and really wanted to spend at least part of the week off locally with friends.

Also, last year we went to Denver, Boulder & Estes Park, and I don’t know if you’ve experienced this with your kids, but there are some trips that you think are, you know, good? fine? but they live on in your kids’ memories as like the best trip they’ve ever been on? The opposite happens, too, of course—you’re euphoric about the best family trip ever and then you hear years later that that particular trip was “low-key actually pretty mid”—Ugh! Parenting! Teenager slang! Dagger to the heart!

Because the CO trip was, in the boys’ opinion, like the best trip ever, we decided to stay in that vein. Also, Aaron’s a big mountain guy, so he was all about it. I’m not sure if we’ve discussed this, but here’s something about me: I don’t like to be cold recreationally. I don’t like to be cold ever, but with the exception of my college years in Santa Barbara, I’ve always lived in places with absolutely wicked winters—Chicago, West Michigan, New York.

When we get out of town, I do not want to see snow. I do not want to be cold. I want to fly straight south like a migrating bird and I want my feet in the sand for as long as possible. What this means is that I can ski and snowboard, and I do listen politely when people rave about their snowy adventures…but really, take me to the beach.

Here’s how strongly I feel about this: the only time I’ve ever faked sick on a vacation was when I was in high school and my family went on a snowmobiling trip in the North Woods of Wisconsin over Christmas break. I took one bone-chilling, teeth-chattering ride on a snowmobile trail through the woods and then “came down with something” and sat in front of the fire in the hotel lobby with a book for the rest of the vacation.

All that to say, our kids have been to lots of beaches, lots of boat trips, lots of scuba diving and snorkeling and paddle boarding, but they’re a little thin on both mountains and national parks, and that’s definitely because of their beach-bum-mom.

And so: WYOMING. None of us had ever been, but Aaron has a good friend there who is a great local guide, and wow did that little town and incredible mountain range absolutely charm us—possibly me most of all.