Novice joins fundraiser in
Sawtooth Valley
Snowmobiling could become
addicting
By MATT FURBER
Express Staff Writer
Snowmobiling is not an activity I
have participated in since I was about 14 years old when my cousin Jack
Frost was teaching me to drive. It wasn’t a very successful lesson. I
slammed the sled into a tree as I throttled uphill through a turn in
northern Michigan, a place where the outdoors came alive for me. The
night of my lesson, however, the only thing that opened for me was my
forehead from the impact with the windshield.
Way Out Women, official riders
on a relay fundraiser for breast cancer research, take a break at
Redfish Lake. In the back row are Becky Wagner, Rene Neumeyer and
Mickey Sutton. In front is Cris Reninger with one of her survivor eggs
she painted with slogans like "Mork Mobile" and "Yolk Transport."
Sitting next to her is Johnee Miller, who at 72 was the oldest person in
the ride and the most experienced. Express photo by Matt Furber
Jumping forward over 20 years,
snowmobiles have become entirely different machines and I have learned a
thing or two about physics and driving. Non-the-less, when I showed up
at the Mountain Village Restaurant in Stanley last Friday to join a
group of 21 riders participating in a breast cancer research
fund-raiser, I was more than a little apprehensive thinking about my
adolescent performance.
I had been invited to ride a
snowmobile with an Idaho team riding a leg of a relay called Way Out
Women, sponsored by Polaris, a Minnesota-based company committed to
fundraising and celebrating its 50th anniversary.
"The goal is to raise the profile
of women in a male dominated sport," said Mickey Sutton of Nampa, one of
the six official riders invited to join in the relay and ride a Polaris
snowmobile 900 miles through Idaho.
Each leg of the journey to
Minnesota has official women riders chosen for their commitment to the
cause and their experiences with cancer in their own families. Some of
the riders are breast cancer survivors themselves.
The Idaho group included both the
youngest female rider, Rene Neumeyer, 29, whose daughter Khadija, 8, a
snow-cross racer, joined in, and the oldest, Johnee Miller, 72, a breast
cancer survivor of eight years, who has been riding snowmobiles with her
husband Zee since 1962.
Four legs of the relay, two in the
United States and two in Canada, are set to converge at the Polaris
factory Feb. 20.
The Idaho Way Out Women rode from
Priest Lake, in Idaho’s Panhandle, to West Yellowstone, Mont.. I joined
them on the stretch through the Sawtooth Valley, from Stanley to Smiley
Creek.
Trinity Boss, of Meridian,
joined "Way Out Women" on a leg of a relay race and breast cancer
research fundraiser from Alaska to Minnesota last week as riders
completed a 900-mile ride through Idaho. Boss and the other 21 riders
took a break in the Sawtooth Valley at Redfish Lake. Express photo by
Matt Furber
After breakfast and a quick
orientation to my machine, a powerful red and yellow Polaris 800 with
the name Snow Dancer stenciled on the bright red windshield, we headed
out on our ride. I was nervous to be responsible for another person’s
property, but the owner, Chris Reninger, another relay member, took me
under her wing, caring for my well being like the bag of eggs she
painted and carried in honor of people who have suffered from cancer.
I was getting more and more
comfortable on the machine riding in the company of the women, who are
passionate about both snowmobiling and raising awareness for women’s
issues.
Every day of the trip there are
guests who join the ride to represent women’s organizations. Amy Davis,
executive director of the Idaho Women’s Business Center in Boise, an
organization that helps entrepreneurs get their ideas off the ground,
joined the group with me.
"She does so much for women," said
Sutton who herself raised over $3,000 in pledges.
Feelings of resistance to a
technology that I had not embraced because of my bias for quiet ski
tours were beginning to fade. In the company of our 22-person snowmobile
posse that included some male fundraisers, like Gary Cvecich, an Idaho
Department of Transportation employee from Stanley, and Bob Jarrett, a
neo-natologist with a practice in Nevada, I was flushed with the good
energy and positive sense of purpose and fun. I was also beginning to
get a sense of the horsepower under the hood. It was time to cool it
when I finally got the sled stuck. Reninger encouraged me to stick to
the groomed trails, for a while. The sport could become addicting. The
adrenaline surge was intoxicating. In my mind I was getting ready to
throw down a credit card, call some friends for pledges and keep riding
to Minnesota.
Roseau is only a few miles from
the Canadian boarder. Upon arrival all four teams plan to participate in
a Guinness Book of World Records bid for the largest group ride in
snowmobile history.
As we raced for Smiley Creek and
the shuttle to Rexburg, where the riders would hand off their sleds to
the Wyoming contingent, I found myself behind a cloud of snow. It was
being kicked up behind 8-year-old Khadija giving me a run more my money
as we streaked across the open valley at nearly 60 miles per hour.
Clearly, the future of the sport
for women has been secured. As we pulled into the parking lot, Johnee
Miller was there with us grinning from ear to ear.