Jake Hutton kneels down, holding his 6-year-old horse Ricky’s hoof in his hands. He’s pointing to special studs on the horseshoe that were welded into place to ensure the quarter horse can grip the snow and ice of a Wyoming winter.
“You could say Ricky has his snow tires on,” Hutton jokes.
Hutton is smack in the middle of the 640-acre Kelly Parcel, which the state sold last year to Grand Teton National Park, capping years of negotiations. He has a near clear view of the Tetons on a warm January day as he preps to go out for a ride.
He finishes saddling Ricky and another horse named Sally. It’s a similar preparation he may have taken six months earlier when he was preparing for a summer ride.
Hutton and his fiancée, Sara McIntosh, have around 30 horses they use for their young business, the JH Outfitting Company.
“We love our job, though, despite the work you got to put into it,” Hutton said. “It's definitely not the easiest life.”
They’ve come up with creative ways to make money and pay roughly 15 employees, like renting out their burro to deliver drinks at special events. Or offering skijoring demos to customers near Jackson Hole Mountain Resort.
Still, the majority of their revenue is made in the summer through trail rides in the Kelly Parcel. Some of those rides in the summer end with live music, a full bar and a seven-course meal prepared by a private chef.
JH Outfitting Company has been able to host the rides and make money on public land with a temporary use permit from the state.
But the state doesn't own the parcel anymore. The feds do. So that temporary permit issued in 2022 running through 2027 has become invalid.
Now, the JH Outfitting Company may not be welcome on the land.
The conflict is not an unexpected one. Human uses on the land had been of top concern in negotiations. Hutton’s case, however, is the first time since the parcel changed hands in January last year that a disagreement has spilled over into the public sphere.
Early last year, Hutton asked Grand Teton National Park and its superintendent, Chip Jenkins, to allow him to continue his business through 2025.
“And wanting to be good neighbors, wanting to [be] collaborative, we said, ‘Of course, we would be happy to do that,’” Jenkins said.
Later in 2025, after some prodding for a response, according to Hutton, the park offered to honor the state’s temporary permit on the original timeline.
But that’s it. The catch would be Hutton and his partner would be off the parcel in late 2027. They’d have to find a new spot for trail rides and cookouts.
Ultimately, according to Jenkins, the park purchased the $100 million parcel at a premium “for wildlife conservation, not for commercial activities.”
Hutton hasn’t signed the agreement. He wants to stay indefinitely. And he feels slighted. He was a loud advocate for the park’s purchase and conservation of the scenic habitat that came with “encumbrances,” which he argues include his business.
That’s due in part, he said, to the grazing rights he subleases. He also argues the park hasn’t gone through the right process to protect the land’s historic value.
Grand Teton disagrees. Back when the sale was being negotiated, the state Legislature enshrined grazing and hunting rights to continue in perpetuity, Jenkins said, which did not include Hutton’s commercial use.
Sen. Mike Gierau (D-Jackson) was a part of those negotiations. He agrees with Jenkins.
“The Park Service is the owner of the property,” Gierau said. “I would give them the latitude to decide what can and what cannot be done on that property.”
At the top of a butte on the wildlife-rich tract overlooking the Tetons, Hutton said he and his fiancée have put off their wedding due to the financial and mental stress of the impasse with the park.
During the ride, he pointed to old haying equipment left by homesteaders, aspens with claw marks from past bear activity and coyote tracks underfoot. Once, he said, he was even charged by a grizzly. He feels connected to the land and is worried about not being allowed to come back.
Should he lose his lease, he said, “It would ruin our business.
“We would be sacrificing a lot and we would have to get really creative on how else we can survive with 30 horses that need a job.”
Hutton has spoken up in the chambers of Teton County commissioners. He even went to Capitol Hill in D.C., seeking help from Wyoming’s congressional delegation. He’s pursued legal advice, though he doesn’t plan to sue as of right now.
Without their own land, Hutton and McIntosh will continue to rely on agreements with landowners to keep and graze their horses, and ultimately, run their business.
“The first thing you see when you get off an airplane in Jackson Hole is a cowboy and a bucking horse,” Hutton said.
He sees himself as a steward of that image, one that, these days, is getting pretty hard to find.
