All About the Ride: A 1st Time Snowmobile Experience in Red River

It’s my first time ever on a snowmobile and I’m gunning up Red River’s Forest Road 597 with a bit of mild fear coursing at each turn. My guide - twenty-year-old, keep-it-chill Briason Whitlock from Weezie’s Wild Rides - is some 40 feet or so ahead of me. He stands up on his whip as he bobs over what’s left of the late-season snow.

In contrast, my bootie remains firmly planted to my new fancy Polaris Adventure. I glance at the machine's high-tech screen, which shows a digitized map charting our course through the Carson National Forest to Greenie Peak (11,250 ft) - the tallest peak in Red accessible by motorized vehicle. We're currently 9,6000 feet and ascending. The screen reports that I’m going a hot 16 mph, which, to me, feels somewhat like super-speed.

At the base of this ride in Mallette Park - where both Weezie’s and The Sled Shed keep their snowmobiles - Whitlock told me 18 to 20 mph is goals but that we could even kick it to 22 or 23 mph. He’s been leading snowmobile tours for two and a half seasons after moving to Red River from Amarillo, TX, to fish. (Weezie’s owners, Chris and Tracy Green, have been operating through winters and summers - where adventurers will take the same trail but on Polaris Side-by-Sides - since 2017.)

I’m lucky it’s a relatively quiet Tuesday afternoon so that the white-sparkly path is all ours and I don’t have to worry about whamming into anyone. It’s not like these curves are hairpin tight, but the steep drop-offs get me nervous, especially when we start downhill. My hands grip the handlebars Hulk tight.

A little over halfway into the 20-mile loop on some near-vertical climbs toward Midnight Meadows, I drop any lingering hesitation and go for it. Vroom, vroooom, señorita, I am full speed ahead!!! (Whitlock later tells me, “That part of the trail is called ‘Vapor Lock.’ Back in the day, the older machines could run outta power and not make it.” I sure am glad we did.)

Then the moment I didn’t even know I was waiting for: the meadows. The most pure open expanse of rolling white I’ve seen the whole four years I’ve lived in New Mexico. (Because, as you’ve probably gathered by now, I am not in any capacity a snow sports person, so this all feels wonderful and new.)

I walk around on the flats - which I can tell have been criss-crossed through by many a snowmobiler (tracks loop everywhere) - and feel glad to stop a sec, breathe in the fresh air. Whitlock says he’s seen deer, bobcats and coyotes up here. I definitely want to return come summer for the verdant, wildflower pop. (In that season, OHVs have to park at the gate to protect the ecosystem.)

Up to the peak, we pass a big group from The Sled Shed. I give the leader a high five. (Weezie’s and The Sled Shed are the only two snowmobile companies to use this trail. It’s also open to private riders. We even ran into the Forest Service team doing a training. The third company - Bobcat Pass Wilderness Adventures - sticks to Bobcat Pass, which is east past town.)

From Greenie, I look out onto everything. The rising and falling of the snow-capped mountains. Wheeler - NM’s tallest peak - off in the distance, and Gold Hill closer. I can see some tiny skiers in the afternoon’s final runs. The clouds seem so close as to almost touch their sweeping striations. I’m glad I got out here before Weezie's shuts things down at the end of March.

As the saying goes: it’s all downhill from here. And it’s awesome and exhilarating (and I wish Whitlock would go faster so I wouldn't have to eat the snow clumps flying behind him). My hands loosened around the bars, I don't touch the brakes even once. I nail my turns and even aim toward some deeper snow chunked up on the trail’s sidelines.

Two and a half hours in all, and back at the bottom, I follow Whitlock, diving down a small hill to the lot. All no big deal. I smile to myself and think: ‘Life really is all about the ride.’