Two of the snow machines we used on Wednesday's excursion were new. As in, one had been ridden once, briefly, and the other was out on its first run. So, naturally, all the wardens wanted a chance to try out the new machines.

During the lunch break one warden asked his friendly, long-term nemesis/partner if he could try out the other's brand new machine.

And then, having permission, rather than tearing out on the lake like others had, turned and immediately ran the machine up the open slope of a nearby hill.

And disappeared into the trees.

And did not come out.

And did not come out.

The only other rider out on a machine during the lunch break sped up the same open slope, traveled heavily by machines, and parked.

And went afoot into the trees.

And did not come out.

Eventually, of course, they both did come out, and returned to basecamp on the lake.

Now, I did not go over to inspect the new machine, but upon their return, someone asked the machine's owner if "that windshield had a crack in it when you got it?"

Yeah. Seems the borrower spotted an untraveled clearing up higher through the trees, and decided to see what the new machine could do.

And rolled it.

Now, these things are like 500-600 pounds. Usually takes at least two people to set them upright. And in the course of the lunch break, at least two other wardens got their machines stuck up there in the same place, trying to pioneer a new snow path through the trees.

One of them twice.

All this effort was not to get anywhere. I could see that spot later from the Divide above. Want to get over that hill? Well, there's well-groomed paths going there from two other sides.

This is just a test of man and machine, to see what one can, and cannot, do.

And the only way to answer that question, is to try.

Afternoon plans called for a convoy of machines up to the Continental Divide above our lake, and then scattering to search for bighorn sheep along the cliffs (found only one, heard rocks scattering down cliffs from other sheep out of sight under the cornices).

The local warden led, the pack spread out behind him. Our first regathering (other than those who stopped to get my sled back on the packed snow) was about a mile and a half up the trail.

We were shy several people, so one local was sent back to check on their progress. Finding them clear back at basecamp, uncertain as to which trail to take. And he and the stragglers soon rejoined the waiting posse.

And a head count found one still missing.

The boss.

But we knew from the stragglers that he wasn't back at camp.

Well, you don't mess around in this country, or make assumptions.

You find people.

So the entire entourage turned around and made a fast burn across the horrible little moguls through the trees, and the fun, steep bail off the mountainside down onto the flat lake. There to open the engines up and make maximum possible speed (which for me was probably less than 50, and I was left well behind) across the snow covered ice.

Before I could make the half-mile across the lake, the first machines had already arrived at camp. And had all promptly turned around, heading straight back.

I swear, it looked like a winter Mad Max scene, all those noisy machines spread out in a pack, bearing down upon oneself at full throttle, plumes of snow in their wake. The leader hand signaling that all was okay, and back onto the mountain we went. Up the steep slope and through the damn moguls again.

We regrouped in the trees as before, and finally got the story about where the boss had been.

You see, before starting out on the afternoon tour, he just had to try it.

The hill climb, ya know?

And he didn't make it either.