Discover the Best Mountain Bike Trail in Jackson, WY
The trail started where the pavement ran out and the real stories began. In the summer of 1990, four ski-bums-turned-bike-explorers rolled into Jackson, Wyoming, not to chase snow, but something wilder, dustier, and less defined: mountain biking before it knew it was cool.
Back then, what we called the Game Creek Trail—which today is more accurately known as the Cache-Game Loop—wasn’t on a Trailforks app or loaded into a GPS. It was something you heard about from someone who’d ridden it, possibly while drinking something cold, possibly sitting on a tailgate. The whole loop starts near Snow King Ski Area, where the singletrack quickly rises into a pine-and-sage climb that’ll humble even a seasoned rider. We didn’t split hairs on names. We called the whole damn thing Game Creek, even though the loop connects Cache Creek Trail for the ascent and Game Creek Trail for the thrilling descent.
For 20-year-old me and my friends Jim, Brad, and Branden, it became the spine of a summer that vibrated with firsts.
The Base Camp at KOA
We showed up thinking we’d just snag an apartment for three months. We were wrong. Jackson, even back then, played hard to get. What we got instead was a patch of dirt at the KOA campground, two three-man tents zipped together at the center like an impromptu yurt, and more character development than any rental could offer.
Our basecamp had that chaotic charm of half-planned youth: a picnic table that doubled as a kitchen, a drying rack for wet bike shorts, and occasionally, a place to leave bottles of Jim Beam to test the spiritual integrity of our friends (more on that later).
Jobs at The Bunnery were lined up, but with the summer crowd still weeks away, we had to adapt. I ended up as a lunch cook at the Cadillac Grille. Branden got hired at the Alpenhoff. Brad and Jim stayed the course and eventually landed their gigs waiting tables at The Bunnery. By day, we worked. By afternoon, we rode. And at night, we told stories around that KOA picnic table, some of which may have been true.
Bikes with No Business Being There
None of us were true mountain bikers. We were skiers moonlighting as pedalers. Our rigs? Early-era, rigid-forked steel dinosaurs with names like GT Tequesta (mine, sky blue), Specialized Rockhopper (Jim and Brad), and Diamond Back Apex (Branden). No suspension. No dropper posts. Just knobby tires and dreams.
Looking back, I can’t believe we made it up those climbs and down those descents without shearing off a few limbs or at least a derailleur. The trail was a beast. Starting near town, it pitched upward immediately. You’d climb steadily through pine forests and rocky switchbacks along Cache Creek, following the babbling water that mocked your labored breathing.
After about four miles, you’d hit a fork—metaphorical and literal. A quick breather, a snack, maybe something herbal. From there, the trail rolled into one of the most exhilarating descents of my life. That’s where Game Creek Trail proper took over.
Cache-Game: The Descent That Defined a Summer
The Game Creek portion dropped fast through stands of aspen and tight, loamy singletrack, snaking past beaver ponds and meadows exploding with wildflowers. You’d dip and weave through shaded hollows and emerge into sunlight just long enough to feel invincible.
This was before hydration packs were common, and trail etiquette was mostly “try not to die.” Branden, in a move equal parts bold and foolish, ran out of water and refilled straight from the creek. Cue giardia. Cue two days of fever and the sort of intestinal revenge nature delivers with a smile. It was awful. It was unforgettable.
Eventually, the descent mellowed, spilling onto a service road that dropped us down to Highway 89. We’d pedal the flat pavement back to town, legs rubbery, hearts still racing.
Beers and Bunnery Apres
The best part of the ride? The descent, no question. But the real gold came after: the beers. One ride, I remember coming back with a guy we met out there named Tim “Sky” Walker from Ohio. We crushed the loop, coasted back into town, and bellied up at the Bunnery where Brad and Jim were mid-shift. Beers were slid across the counter and we toasted our dusty limbs and trail-conquered grins.
Markey Bena: The Accidental Shaman
That summer wasn’t just trails and jobs. It was also about Markey Bena,18-years-older than us he was ex-junkie from LA with a twelve-string guitar, who became our accidental Yoda. We met working lunch shifts at the Cadillac Grille. Markey, grandson of Golden Era actress Joan Bennett, had played CBGBs, lived in NYC, and landed in Jackson for reasons only Markey understood.
He was a complex character—raw, ragged, and somehow still radiating wisdom. He’d ride his bike to the KOA sometimes in the morning, grab me, and we’d commute to work together. One morning after a particularly social evening at our site, I saw a 350ml bottle of Jim Beam unopened on the table. When I got back from my shower, Markey was there, paper in hand, bottle empty. That’s how mornings worked with Markey.
He played Lou Reed songs like “Sweet Jane” and talked about life like it was both a comedy and a tragedy he’d read cover to cover. After that summer we never heard from him again. At some point he drifted back to New York City. I later learned he was remembered there as a wise, often drunk, friend to all. That’s how I remember him too.
Time and Trail Drift
Jackson’s changed. Back then, you might spot Harrison Ford, but the tech moguls hadn’t yet laid claim. It was still possible to afford living there without an IPO. These days, the town’s gentrified sheen reflects more luxury than character. But the trail? The trail still holds.
I’ve been back. My sister got married there. And while the town’s changed, the cache of Cache-Game hasn’t. Every time I think of that ride, I see it as it was: dusty, wild, ours.
If You Ride It, Ride It Often
If I could tell my 20-year-old self anything, it’d be: ride it more. We did it six or seven times that summer, and I wish it had been sixteen. The trail gave us more than just a descent—it gave us something to carry.
This isn’t just a ride report. It’s a remembrance. Of rigid bikes and soft landings. Of creek water and trail dust. Of friends and Markey. Of a town that hadn’t yet been discovered by everyone. Of a loop we called Game Creek, even if the maps now say otherwise.
The Cache-Game Loop Today
For those inspired to ride the Cache-Game Loop today, here’s what you need to know:
- Distance and Difficulty: The full loop spans roughly 14.5 miles with a gain of about 1,700 feet. It’s considered intermediate in difficulty—mostly due to the sustained climb and the narrow, flowing descent that demands attention. Fit beginners can attempt it, but seasoned riders will find it the perfect balance of cardio and grin.
- Trail Conditions: Maintained in part by Friends of Pathways and local riders, the trail is typically in good shape from late spring through early fall. Expect packed dirt, sections of loose rock, some creek crossings, and frequent wildlife sightings—moose, deer, and if you’re lucky (or unlucky), a bear or two.
- Other Popular Trails in the Area:
- Ferrin’s Trail: A punchy climb from the base of Snow King to the ridge.
- Sink or Swim: A favorite descent from the Snow King area with switchbacks and stunning views.
- Black Canyon and Teton Pass Trails: Just west of town, these trails offer shuttle options and serious downhill.
- Putt-Putt Trail: A local go-to for quick spins and after-work rides, connecting easily with Cache Creek.
Where to Refuel
Sure, The Bunnery holds a place in my heart—and in this story—but today’s Jackson offers a menu of stellar post-ride options:
- Snake River Brewing: A craft beer institution with hearty pub food and a sprawling outdoor patio. Try the Zonker Stout or Snake River Pale Ale.
- Hand Fire Pizza: Located in a restored movie theater, this is the spot for wood-fired pies and local flavor. Great vibe, better crust.
- StillWest Brewery & Grill: Right near Snow King, this modern brewery has killer views, seasonal beers, and elevated comfort food.
- Bin22: A hybrid wine bar, tapas spot, and bottle shop—perfect for a more refined decompression.
Whether you’re riding it for the first time or chasing ghosts of your 20-year-old self, the Cache-Game Loop delivers. It’s a ride through time, terrain, and memory. It was our trail before we knew what trails could mean. And now, it waits for the next generation of riders—with better gear, sure, but hopefully just as much heart.
Game Creek, in 1990, was a ride. And it still rides through me.
