My Night In A Snowmobile Groomer…
Photo by Kenny Johnston
Related: Tips For Meeting On Trail Groomers
Have you ever considered a snowmobile groomer ridealong? I remember the day I almost hit a groomer. I‘d come around a blind corner on my snowmobile. And there it was, looming over me, filling the trail. Wide-eyed, we both hit the binders. Fortunately, my Ski-Doo snowmobile came to an abrupt stop as the skis kissed the groomer’s blade. I looked up into the cab, feeling small and vulnerable before that machine’s great bulk.
Now here I was again, being dwarfed by a piece of grooming equipment. Except this time, my hope was to enter it through the door, not the windshield. Jim, the operator, was holding it open so I could join him that night. I wanted to see what it was really like to groom a trail…
Ride Along at Night in A Snowmobile Groomer
Photo by Blais Tremblay
Within minutes the friendly lights of town succumbed to an all-pervading darkness. It fell from the sky as if painted with a tar brush. The Man on the Moon must have been on vacation. The only illumination was the groomer’s lights, cutting a swath in the inky blackness. It was eerie knowing that we were surrounded by wilderness. But only able to see the scantly lit limbs abutting the trail. And the white carpet ahead, moonscaped by moguls, bumps and divots.
Fortunately, our cab was cozy. Although my passenger jump seat hardly compared to Jim’s ergonomic throne. Enough heat blasted through that Jim opened a side vent for a little fresh air. The engine noise notched up a few decibels, but we could still chat. The controls for steering, and working the blade and drag were laid out around him like a casino’s black jack table. He worked these with precise, deft manoeuvres. It was an integrated ballet of motion geared to lay out a table top of reworked snow out the back.
Watching Behind A Snowmobile Groomer
Photo by Blais Tremblay
Funny thing about grooming. Unless there’s snow to plough up front, most of the action takes place behind. There, the multiple drag blades cut off the peaks, churning the snow to the pan where it’s flattened and packed into a new surface. Hopefully, it will lie there untouched for 6 to 10 hours while it hardens. It’s a metamorphosis much like what happens when the kids’ snowman sits overnight. With any luck, it takes that long to melt too!
Unless there’s a problem, the passenger has nothing to do in a snowmobile groomer except keep the operator company. I watched Jim’s eyes flitting back and forth constantly. They scanned from the trail ahead to the rear view mirrors, to frequent glances over his shoulder to “check on the product”. Because the terrain was completely irregular, Jim was always shifting this or adjusting that. His goal to ensure a level cut that didn’t skin the hill tops or dump too much in the holes. He said that this slow, steady pace gave the drag time to do its work. Whereas too fast caused skipping that would leave nearly invisible ripples that soon morph into moguls.
I was glad he knew the trail well. The thought of driving into that black void ahead would have been frightening otherwise. Even so, I marvelled at his anticipation of the many corners, hills and valleys we traversed that night. The monotonous rumble of the diesel became soothing. After a while I had trouble staying awake. Jim must have seen me nodding off, because he stopped, announcing it was time for a stretch.
Marathon Grooming Runs
Photo by Blais Tremblay
We both stepped out of the snowmobile groomer onto the huge rubber tracks. Their spongy give under my feet reminded me of walking on a floating dock. I’d forgotten how nippy it was outside. I didn’t even want to think about the possibility of breaking down or getting stuck out here. I just kept thinking to myself “I hoped his two way radio works!” And that someone was awake at the other end.
We still had many hours left in this grooming run. Jim told me that 8 to 10 hours at a time is his preference. But when he fills in for one of his buddies occasionally, it can mean a 22-hour marathon. I didn’t even want to think about that.
After my first four hours, all my thoughts were focused on my warm, soft bed where I’d dream of riding smooth, smooth snowmobile trails. But without Jim and many others dedicated like him, groomed trails would stay a dream. So the next time you spot a snowmobile groomer operator at work, give a thumbs up to say thanks!
The tips and advice in this blog are the opinions of the author, may not work in every situation and are intended only for the convenience and interest of the reader, who has the personal responsibility to confirm the validity, accuracy and relevancy of this information prior to putting it to their own use.