Grand Tetons Adventure: Hurricane Pass and Beyond

Grand Teton Adventure – Day Four – 7/28/09 – Lake Solitude Trail/Teton Crest Trail to Alaska Basin – 10.1 Miles

The gradual lightening of the tent walls woke me but I had no watch to help me determine the time. While I don’t consider myself a clock watcher (it’s time to do this, it’s time to do that), I do like to know what side of noon I’m on. Being watchless added to my discomfort on this expedition. One plus: the cold temperatures that I had expected at this elevation did not come about - it was mid-40’s, perfect for sleeping. I missed my luxury Thermarest, but my ProLite 3 was livable. (There was much debate about which one to bring for the week, because the ProLite is not adequate for 7 nights on my hip bones and the luxury Therm is too heavy for backpacking – so I brought both on the plane.)

Everyone began to stir and figure out breakfast chores – find stoves, get water, to boil or not to boil? For Jeff an apple was enough, but instant cheese grits sounded good to me, and Mike has never missed a full meal in the wilderness. The sky was clear, but we were still in shade waiting for the sun to pop up over the northern peaks that separated us from yesterday’s Paintbrush Canyon. Our tents were heavy with dew and not looking very packable. We slowly began to gather stuff and we were avoiding the subject of what I was going to do today. While I was putting my Camelback into its sleeve on my backpack, something shiny caught my eye.

My watch! It must have slipped off my wrist while I was removing the Camelback yesterday. I held it up and declared it a sign that I should continue on the backpack trip. How simple is that? Actually, before falling asleep last night I had made the decision that I would get up this morning and pretend it was the first day of an overnight trip. I could endure anything for one night, right? Ah, what fun to play mind games with myself…

At last the sun’s rays crested over the peaks and quickly reached down into our canyon. We spread out our tents and dillydallied with the rest of our gear as they dried; consequently, we did not get on the trail until nearly 9:30 a.m. But it was great to know we would pitch dry tents at the end of the day. We headed off down the North Fork of Cascade Canyon to see what awaited us. Here’s Mike and the Grand Teton posing with her morning clouds gathering. Looks like a smokestack,huh?

Wildlife was scheduled for this morning as marmots popped out among the rocks. Cascade Creek flowed noisily as we criss-crossed it. Halfway down the canyon, I was ahead of the guys when a brown stump caught my eye off to the right. The stump took a couple of steps, looked at me, and turned into a moose! She was alone and very content to be photographed and admired. We watched her for quite some time and when we left she was still breakfasting on leaves and grasses, a very tranquil scene.

While hiking in the Smokies I knew all the trail mileages and most of the elevation gains between trail points, but out here in the Tetons those details were much hazier. My NatGeo trail map does not include distances and only gives elevations for certain high points. Jeff said we were going to gain “a couple thousand feet” today, not as strenuous as yesterday (we gained 3,800). Every so often he would tell us what elevation we were at on his GPS and I tried hard not to ask. After all, “it is what it is”, right? Just remember that going over a pass means going UP again, and we were headed for Hurricane Pass.

At the end of the North Fork is a junction. Left takes you out Cascade Canyon Trail to Jenny Lake, the route that Mike had hiked in yesterday. Right takes you into the South Fork of Cascade Canyon via the Teton Crest Trail, passing the stars of the Grand Teton Range: Mount Owen, Grand Teton, Middle Teton and South Teton. These babies are on your left as you walk up the canyon. However, to the right is an incredible wall of rock that to me resembles El Capitan in Yosemite, and yet it has no name. Imagine – an incredible formation like this being so insignificant compared to what’s around it that it doesn’t even have a name. Wow! Out here Charlie’s Bunion would be…a rock.
 

You do not get a handrail with your footlog on these trails. If that makes you nervous, you have no business being out here.

Look closely at the center of the ridgeline. What are those four rock formations? Let’s call them hoo-doos.

We walked around gawking at views like this all day long. That's Table Mountain on the right.

Mike requested an early lunch around 11:00, so we chose this nice little spot for our break. This river was a swift cascade, very noisy, and the snow seemed to flow down to meet it. It was sunny and magnificent and I wanted to stay here for a long time.

A new photo series:













My boots and the landscape

Marsh marigolds

A backcountry ranger overtook us as we were climbing the switchbacks and he checked out our permit. Jeff asked him for the latest scoop on conditions at Static Peak Divide (remember, the rangerette had basically said you are an idiot if you take that route.) Well, this ranger said that conditions change so quickly these days that the pass could be clear now. I saw the hope gleaming in Jeff’s eyes. For the rest of the morning we leapfrogged with the ranger as he stopped to talk with other backpackers along the trail. Again, these trails are not for the hiker seeking solitude. We probably saw two dozen people today. (I have even seen Lake Solitude referred to as Lake Multitude, although there was no one else there when we passed by yesterday.) Most of the South Fork is a camping zone and there are lots of great looking places to pitch a tent. If I were ever to pass this way again, I would like to camp in this area.

Eventually we began to approach the canyon’s end and tried guessing where the pass would be. Now that I’ve conquered one pass, I think I know something, right? This particularly beautiful waterfall was in view for a long time and we thought maybe we would pass just to the right of it. Well, we were wrong. The waterfall was on the left side and Hurricane Pass is on the right.

Here are tiny people on the trail nearing the end of the canyon. And are those clouds gathering again?

Another view of the trail – just one more mile to Hurricane Pass.

 At last the pass loomed in sight along with the snow fields we had to cross to get to it. I was not any happier with them today than yesterday. The real trail zig-zagged up the mountain but the steep slopes and melting snow encouraged shortcuts. I watched Jeff tentatively try first one path in the snow, then another, and then finally he scrambled up the loose rock on an even bigger shortcut, and I followed him. (Note to self: hiking poles are no help when you are scrambling up loose rock.) Jeff kept going, but I turned to watch Mike negotiate the snow. I felt someone should be a witness if he didn’t make it. Mike doesn’t normally use hiking poles but he had toted good old-fashioned ski poles on this trip for just such an occasion. He carefully stomped out footsteps in the snow like a responsible hiker rather than short- cutting.

Here’s tiny Mike again in the center of the photo. My camera and I are near the top of the pass.

Standing at Hurricane Pass (10,338 feet), the view of the girls, Grand Teton, Middle Teton and South Teton, is ___ fill in the blank with any superlative you wish! The scene is just so vast, I am amazed that I got all three of them in one frame. There was a stiff cold breeze blowing (Hurricane, remember?) and I stopped to put on my jacket. There is nothing tall growing here. The flowers are abundant but low to the ground, alpine forget-me-nots among them.

As if all this scenery were not enough to blow your mind, a glance down to where we were just hiking reveals Schoolroom Glacier, with high sides of moraine built up and a seemingly tiny sliver where the water flows on down into the canyon. You can’t see the glacier until you are most of the way to the top of the pass.

At the top Jeff and I made a plan that he would continue on to Alaska Basin, our camping zone for the night, while I waited for Mike. Jeff would scout out a good campsite and either wait for us or leave a trail sign. He wanted to take a side hike up to check snow conditions at Buck Mountain Pass (the route to Static Peak). Even if he couldn’t make it through Static Peak Divide, perhaps he could complete one of his primary goals of our entire Tetons trip: summiting Static Peak. So Jeff took off and I waited all of five minutes before Mike appeared. The two of us walked together as the Teton Crest Trail crossed the national park boundary and into the Jedediah Smith Wilderness. (We would cross back into the national park the next morning.) We waved to Idaho and then Mike chose to make a side foray to try to overlook the glacier from a different vantage point. I chose to stick to the trail and finish the few miles to Alaska Basin.

At this point we had been above any appreciable tree cover for a few hours and now I was walking on top of the world. Where were the bathroom facilities? I finally chose a two-foot-high rock for my pit stop. The wind blew my hat off while I was occupied. I got myself together, chased my hat, and about 90 seconds later a group of hikers came over the horizon. Gee whiz, what do you gotta do to get some privacy out here in the wilderness?

Among the dozens of impressive mountains to the west is a formation called Battleship Mountain. It comes into view from the front angle and then you walk for miles alongside it. It is impossible to get lost for about ten miles as this mountain dominates the horizon. What do you think? It is too massive to get the idea of scale unless you are standing there for real.

After a grateful mile or more of flat walking I began the long descent into Alaska Basin, a much larger open area than the canyons we had trekked through, many square miles and ringed by mountains. The few alpine trees are not very tall but the boulders are huge and plentiful. The photo is looking down at Sunset Lake in the Basin – but I still had a long way to go past Sunset Lake. As I walked down, down, down, I could sometimes pick out teeny tiny Jeff on the teeny tiny trail.

On one switchback I was surprised to encounter a family consisting of Dad, Mom and two small boys, perhaps ages 3 and 6. (Click on photo.) Mom was sprawled out in the middle of the trail with her boots off and her hat over her face. I tentatively approached and said hi to Dad and casually asked, “How’s everybody doing?” Dad said they were doing great. They were heading for the South Fork…which meant they were going to tote those children over Hurricane Pass and through the snow fields. Dad smiled and I just kept walking.

   I took a break at Sunset Lake to see if Mike would catch up (he didn’t – he was off exploring). I replenished my water and then pushed the rest of the way to meet Jeff waiting near the intersection of the Teton Crest/Teton Canyon/Alaska Basin trails. He showed me the camping spot in the Basin Lakes section that he recommended and then he embarked on his side trip that would be around 4 miles. It was already 5:00 p.m. and I was a little concerned that he would be out so late. But I knew how important it was to him to try to summit Static Peak so I crossed my fingers and went to leave trail arrows for Mike.

I loved my tent location – the big rock beside me was perfect for spreading out stuff and protected me from the wind on that side. And isn't this a great old tree? The down side: from the back side I could see one other group’s camp in the distance.

Although the elevation gain was less today, I was still exhausted and moving slowly as Mike arrived. He was tuckered out as well and we took a very long time to set up tents, get water and decide where to cook. The breeze was brisk enough that we set up between two large boulders to light stoves. We were trying to prepare food without too much extra effort, when I heard a noise…and Jeff popped up over the boulders at about 7:00 p.m. The bad news was that the snow at Buck Mountain Pass was impassable, so he turned back. The good news was that he was back safely and before dark. I was sorry that he couldn’t make his summit, but I was glad that he had seen and made the determination for himself.

More good news: the daily thunder- storm never appeared and the night was breezy, cool and clear. I had survived and actually enjoyed the day. Nobody said "I told you so." And more awesomeness awaits - tomorrow the three of us will be hiking on the Death Canyon Shelf.  

I thank you God for this most amazing day, for the leaping greenly spirits of trees, and for the blue dream of sky and for everything which is natural, which is infinite, which is yes. ~e.e. cummings

Grand Tetons Adventure: Paintbrush Divide OR The Second Scariest Day of My Hiking Life

Grand Tetons Adventure – Day Three – 7/27/09 – Leigh Lake Trail/Paintbrush Divide Trail to North Fork Cascade Canyon Campsite – 10.5 Miles

Packing up a wet tent is a mental challenge early in the morning. You want to just wait until it dries, but you don’t have time. Maybe you’ll get a chance to dry it out during your lunch stop…maybe not. I knew from our first day that although the morning is all blue skies, in the afternoons the clouds build up and we would likely encounter rain, and I do hate being wet. I was blissfully unaware that a wet tent would not be my biggest challenge today. Jeff and I snarfed down our Bubba leftovers, Mike got breakfast to go at the Chuckwagon, and we drove to the String Lake picnic area where Mike would abandon...uh, drop us off.

 Jeff and I planned to hike 3,800 feet up Paintbrush Canyon, over Paintbrush Divide (topping out at 10,700 feet) and down into North Fork Cascade Canyon, ending at the Lake Solitude camping zone. There are some designated spots to camp in the camping zones, but you can pitch a tent anywhere in those areas. Mike’s plan was to take the boat shuttle across Jenny Lake and hike straight up Cascade Canyon to the North Fork and set up a campsite for us, marking the trail with an “S” to guide us from the trail.

Part of our chores the day before had included registering with the backcountry office, getting our required bear canister (Mike had his own) and getting updated on the latest trail conditions. The nice young rangerette told us that Paintbrush had about ten snow fields, all passable without an ice axe, but that she strongly recommended that we not attempt Static Divide (planned for Day 3) without ice axes – or really at all. She even wrote on the permit that she cautioned us against it. That sealed the deal for me. I was cheering for Plan B from that point, a much longer hike on the last day, but a much safer I-want-to-live-to-tell-about-this option.

Since we were starting out separately for our first day, the night before we had devised meticulous “what-if” plans: “What if we don’t find each other in the camping zone when we get there and we have to set up camp separately?” “Well, we’ll meet at this designated spot at 8:00 p.m.” “What if we don’t meet you at 8:00 p.m.?” “Well, we’ll meet at this other designated spot at 9:00 a.m. the following morning.” “What if we don’t meet up then either?” “Well, each will assume that something happened to the other and we will each just hike back out that morning by the shortest route.” Good worst case plans, so each was responsible for him/herself and did not have to searching blindly for the others. I don’t understand hikers who just “decide where to hike when they get there.”

SOOO…Mike ate his to-go breakfast while Jeff and I made last-minute checks, lamented at how heavy our packs were (Jeff had the bear canister, which is both bulky and heavy – and oh, yeah, MY food was still in it), shifted stuff around and looked at the sky, and all the while Mike chuckled at our “trailhead jitters.” And thus began the second scariest day of my hiking life.

 Jeff and I skirted the eastern side of String Lake, crossed the bridge between String Lake and Leigh Lake, and paused to look at Mt. Moran, which is actually one canyon over. A vocab lesson: A canyon is a deep valley between mountains, sometimes created by a river, but in the Tetons they are mostly U-shaped and formed by glaciers. A divide or pass is the spot in a mountain range that is lower than the surrounding peaks and the preferred way to get to the other side of the range. Paintbrush Canyon lies between Mt. Woodring and Mt. St. John and the only way to the top is…up.

The flowers were not as abundant as the previous day, but beautiful none- theless. (I think this photo is blue pen- stemon). We passed into the subalpine forest, crossing Paintbrush Creek and other creeks a few times. The amount of water was surprising – it was everywhere, large whitewater and small gushes. Looking up at the walls of the canyon, we saw waterfalls that were enormous even from a great distance. With every switchback the waterfalls grew larger until I realized I could delete the first 10 photos taken from a distance.

The trees became scarce and the trail continued to climb. As we took a break in the middle of the trail we watched a marmot scurry away. The day was plenty warm and I was trying to stick to Mike’s mantra: walk at a sustainable pace.

 This is columbine, my favorite Western flower.

 The Grand Tetons is not a lonely place. We passed several backpacking groups and I always stopped to chat, asking where they had spent the night, digging for clues about what coming over Paintbrush Divide was like. Most hikers were doing an out-and-back and had not come over the pass. One couple said they were surprised at the hailstorm yesterday evening – fortunately they had already pitched their tent so they huddled inside to watch it. Hmmmm….hail?

This is the view over my shoulder looking back down at Leigh Lake and (I think) Jackson Lake. The clouds seemed to be gathering earlier than usual today. Jeff and I kept looking up, watching the white, then light gray, then dark gray clouds crowding out the blue sky.

We didn’t stop to rest much and I slipped into the danger zone of trying to match Jeff’s pace. One father-daughter couple dressed skimpily even for dayhiking merrily passed us by, making me wonder if I was worrying too much. Within 30 minutes of hearing about the potential for hail, we felt raindrops and stopped to cover our packs. Five minutes later we were scooting under tree cover as pea-sized hail bounced around us – and five minutes later it stopped. The air was definitely cooler and it was all very interesting.

We took a right trail option to check out Holly Lake, a lovely alpine lake, but the pressure of thickening clouds became intense and we didn’t linger. Sure was pretty, though.

Above Holly Lake we could see what we guessed was Paintbrush Divide – a wall of rock with one low spot and lots of snow (see photo - yes, that is Jeff in the snow). For the love of Pete, how were we going to go up that?

By now the sky was even darker than the gray peaks and we were beginning to cross the snow fields, slushy from the warm sun. Jeff boldly crossed and I crept along like an old granny. Even with trekking poles, the added weight of a backpack made balancing a precarious affair. Are we having fun yet????

My biggest mistake to this point was not resting enough and not eating. Jeff and I were both pushing to get over the divide before the inevitable thunderstorm erupted, but I had to admit that I could not make it. Finally I told Jeff that I simply had to rest, and at the end of a long snow field we sat down under some scrubby trees. I could feel my natural stress reaction coming – tears – not very helpful in this situation. We knew that the place we chose to stop was not adequate for a storm and we eyeballed a better spot if necessary.

Okay, after a two-minute pause, the rumbling started and we hightailed it. The temperature dropped probably 30 degrees in a couple of minutes and the hail pelted us. We scrambled through the stunted trees and struggled to put on our rain gear. My jacket was accessible but my rain pants were not. Ya know, back in the Smokies you don’t use your rain pants in a summer storm! The ground was sloped and all I could do was huddle on my feet with my arms wrapped around my bare legs. I glanced back to see how Jeff was managing – he had his rain pants on and was eating his peanut butter bagel. What, me worry? Sigh…

The hail continued for a bit and then the rain spattered down. Thunder and lightning crashed as I shivered and shook. I tried channeling Dorothy (“there’s no place like home”) but no luck. Amazingly, a dayhiking couple approached, talking and laughing, saw us through the branches and asked what we were doing. Duh, we are sitting here so we don’t get killed by lightning! They seemed genuinely surprised and decided to take cover as well.

We spent nearly an hour under cover while I devised several exit plans: get to the campsite and forcibly take Mike’s car keys was the scenario I favored most. I had had enough of canyon hiking, was darn sure I didn’t like it, and as Arnold says, hasta la vista, baby! No way was I doing two more days of this.

Now the sky was still rumbling (more softly) and the clouds were breaking up and moving eastward past us. Time to try once more to get over the pass. My forced rest had helped a little for the last push, but I was still not dancing to the top. There were still several snow fields to cross, each one steeper than the last, but about a thousand years later we stood on the top of Paintbrush Divide.

Jim says he can read my body language in this photo. What do you think it means?

 The 2.3-mile descent into the North Fork of Cascade Canyon was long but stunning. Less talk, more pictures:

Jeff looking down the North Fork of Cascade Canyon

Rocky trail

Grand Teton looking southward down North Fork Cascade
















Canyon Lake Solitude and creeks in the canyon












 Tiny Jeff on the slope

Sparkling Lake Solitude

Creek rushing from down the canyon from Lake Solitude












 

Mountain bluebells

Mike at Lake Solitude

Mike was waiting for us on the shores of Lake Solitude, grinning and exclaiming, “I want to hear all about it!” Of course he had been caught in the same storm we were, although I think by that time he was either near a campsite or had already set up camp. I could feel those tears cranking up again, but tried to joke and shrug it off – although I was sure I was going to hike out in the morning.

We walked down the canyon looking for the sign to our campsite. We had a small but level area big enough for three tents, water flowing nearby, and Mike had even set up a dining tarp. We quickly put up tents, grabbed our food and cooking stuff, and got under the tarp as the rain began to pour. Somewhere in the hustle my watch slipped unnoticed off of my wrist.

 As we cooked I told Mike about our experience and that I was done with this backpack trip – could I please have his keys? Jeff was silent but Mike began to poke at me, saying there was no way I could quit now, I wasn’t miserable enough yet – and I burst into tears. Suddenly it was very quiet out there in the wilderness, just the pitter-patter of the rain.

I struggled to pull myself together. Mike got serious and tried to pull out of me what was making me so unhappy. I’ve accomplished too many things to consider myself a quitter and really don’t care if anyone else thinks I am one. Peer pressure is not something that influences me much at this stage of my life. My biggest pressure usually comes from within myself. But I was cold, wet and scared of that hailstorm and I didn’t want to do it again. Any of you out there familiar with the phrase H.A.L.T.? It means don’t make any decisions when you are hungry, angry, lonely or tired. I had several of those going on.

The rain eventually stopped, I got some food in me and calmed down, and the evening turned out to be lovely. The summit of Grand Teton was shrouded in her cloud cover. The sunset was peaceful.

I was beyond exhausted and crawled into my tent before the guys. As I lay there, I thought about another time when I was cold, wet and scared – good old Hazel Creek. And just like at the end of that day, here I was warm, dry, fed and safe. Jeff and I had done everything right in the situation. Now I knew what this crazy Western weather could do and those stupid rain pants should be at the top of my pack, not buried in the bottom. Although I did not think I would regret bailing out the next morning, maybe I could also not regret continuing on.

The trouble with weather forecasting is that it's right too often for us to ignore it and wrong too often for us to rely on it. ~Patrick Young

Grand Tetons Adventure: Jackson Peak, Wyoming - "Gros Ventre" is French for "Big Belly"

Grand Tetons Adventure – Day two – 7/26/09 – Jackson Peak – 10 Miles

On a sleepy Sunday morning we went in search of breakfast in Jackson Hole, which we discovered at Bubba’s, a fine barbecue establishment that serves more food than one person can possibly eat – unless you are Mike. He cleaned his plate, and Jeff made a brave attempt, but I could not get through half of my meal, so it went in the to-go box (the next morning I was happy for cold hash browns.) I got the scoop from the cashier on where a person can take a shower in this town (the Rec Center) and then we set off for our trailhead. Today’s hike was not in the National Park, but it’s a local gem: Jackson Peak.

Jeff learned about this hike in his trip research. It’s in the Gros Ventre Wilderness, part of Bridger-Teton National Forest. There are not many roads in this part of the country. All pavements soon give way to gravel, and eventually a four-wheel drive seems like such a good idea. We drove through the National Elk Refuge, home of the world’s largest wintering concentration of elk (we didn’t see elk today but we saw them later in the week.) In the valley we passed what we called compounds, clusters of very nice houses (ranches?) that looked like Daddy had enough land to build all his offspring a very nice house to go alongside his. As we climbed up the mountains, the road got rougher and the potholes got bigger. Does anybody ever use these roads? Answer: yes. The parking area had half a dozen cars when we arrived and we saw bunches of hikers during the course of the day.

 Jeff’s description of this hike included the words “rock scramble to the summit”, to which I replied that I would “wait below with his pack.” Rock scramble and slip-and-fall sound too much alike for my taste. Mike also mentioned that today was a rest day for him in preparation for our backpack and that he would probably not go to the summit either (remember, he had already been hiking around for a week or so before we arrived). The trail began as a climb through open fields with views towards the Teton range and the beginnings of lovely flowers. Jeff is a young’un and his speed does not change much regardless of hiking on level terrain, downhill or uphill. Our paces are evenly matched on the first two, but on the uphills – forget it. I start out trying to keep up and all I do is wear myself out.

Once we gained the ridge and a little more level ground, I began to truly enjoy the profusion of flowers. Like yesterday, lupines were everywhere, as well as wild geraniums, Indian paintbrush and showy goldeneye.

 We passed Goodwin Lake and for about two minutes we thought we were looking at Jackson Peak. Hey, that doesn’t look like too bad a climb…well, that’s not it.

With vague directions to look for a big stick at an unmarked side trail to the summit, we trekked on. The side trail was not hard to find (there was a rock cairn too) and we sat down to have lunch. Mike turned traitor on me and said that if I wanted to go to the summit, he would go too, and we’d go nice and slow even if it took all day. It looked like it would take about an hour-and-a-half to reach the summit. Behind a tree Jeff and I dumped all the extra weight from our packs that we possibly could and off we went.

It only took 45 minutes. We walked so slowly that we didn’t get out of breath and it really made a difference for me – a great lesson for the coming days. Within the first ten minutes we could see Cache Peak and I was captivated. See how clearly it stands out?

 How about let’s look at the pictures.

First of many snow fields for the week

I can see the top now!

At the peak
of Jackson Peak

On Jackson Peak with the Tetons in the background

The rock cairn and Cache Peak in the distance

Jeff on the return hike

Total time for the 10-mile round trip, including lunch and lingering at the summit, was about 6.5 hours, not too bad. I really enjoyed this hike and hoped it was getting me ready for the next three days of backpacking. We wound our way back down the mountain to Jackson Hole and the Rec Center, where for $6.50 each we got to shower with strangers (and in my case, with a lot of little kids fresh from the pool).

Our day wasn’t over yet – our upcoming backpack required a shuttle, so we needed to place a car at our exit point, the Death Canyon trailhead. We took the scenic route west of town to Teton Village, the ski resort area, and enjoyed a fancy dinner at the Mangy Moose. (Jeff loved the buffalo meatloaf.) I was so tired I nearly fell asleep in my salad. The route to place the car included more gravel roads and potholes (also known as small ponds filled with water) and an elk or two dodged past our headlights. We arrived back at camp after 11:00 p.m. and set our inner alarms for first light. Tomorrow we head into the wild!

Anything I've ever done that ultimately was worthwhile...initially scared me to death.--Betty Bender, American professor

Grand Tetons Adventure: Tetons, Taggart Lake and the Teepee

Grand Tetons National Park – Day One – 7/25/09 – 5.5 Miles

I spent all week gathering my gear and then all day Friday stuffing it into my backpack, a carry-on suitcase and a shoulder bag. We would be camping in a Park campground every night except for the two nights of our backpack trip, so tent, sleeping bag, sleeping pad(s), stoves, etc. all had to be accounted for. And beauty products – where to put them all? After a very early departure from Charlotte, one layover and a two-hour time change, Jeff and I landed in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, where the flight attendants instructed everyone to get off the plane and keep walking until you reach the terminal, do NOT stop to take pictures. See why? Nice backdrop for an airport.

 Mike met us at the airport, helped get our stuff to our rental car, and we went…straight to a trailhead. What, you were thinking maybe lunch? Nooo, we are serious about our hiking, folks! (Well, I think we did stop by the Visitor Center first.) The drive to the trail was breathtaking and everything was so vast. I realized that though I would take many photos, most of them would not encompass the scene. The Teton range rolls north seemingly in a straight line and the valley beside it where the two-lane road snakes along is very flat with sagebrush and golden grasses. Actually, I guess it’s not flat, but the small hills seem meaningless with those jagged rocky mountains pushing up so high above. (I will probably use up all my descriptive vocabulary in this first entry so I must consult a thesaurus after this.)

Our first hike was a warmup loop along the shores of Taggart Lake and Bradley Lake with the majestic Grand Teton herself looming in the distance. I was on high alert for wildlife and Mike pointed out bear signs here and there, but nothing wilder than the three of us appeared. Our visit was during the height of wildflower season – this was the first of millions of lupines we passed. In fact, I think the wildflowers were truly the highlight of the entire trip. As I walked along it was hard to believe that we were actually finally here.

Mike on the trail

At a bridge crossing between the lakes we met a couple enjoying a little glass of wine at the end of the day. When we asked them to take a photo, they asked if we were mom and dad and son….well, that joke lasted for the entire week. Jeff gets all of his good qualities from me. (For those of you that may not be sure, the three of us are unrelated hiking fools.)

Family portrait

Every morning in the Tetons dawns clear but the clouds gather and move eastward over the mountains on most afternoons (foreshadowing of excitement to come). The Grand Teton makes her own weather, starting out with a little tiny cloud in the morning and becoming obscured by late afternoon. On our first day out we had lots of threatening clouds and just a few sprinkles on the hike. At one point today Mike split off from us to hike another trail and we arranged to pick him up at a different trailhead.
  Here I am on a big rock near the end of our first day’s hike. In the background is Avalanche Canyon (I thought it was Death Canyon, which we would be trekking through later in the week, but Jeff has corrected me. Which sounds more fun, Avalanche or Death?)

 Here’s one decent photo I got of flowers and water. There was lots of water everywhere we went, in the valley, in the canyons, and incredible waterfalls spilling down the canyon walls…but I’m getting ahead of myself.

The unwanted drizzle for the first day came as we got to our car. Jeff and I picked up Mike at the Lupine Meadows trailhead (we would be back at that spot for another hike later in the week) and headed for dinnertime at Dornan’s, a little shopping hot spot near the Visitor Center. Dornan’s consists of several buildings that include a very small grocery store (or large convenience store, depends on how you look at it), a deli, a pizza and pasta restaurant, an outfitter, and the Chuckwagon. Now, the Chuckwagon dinner is all you can eat of beans, beef stew, short ribs, and other stuff cooked in large Dutch ovens over open fires. (Never fear, there’s a salad bar too!) You can eat under the stars, under a shelter or inside the teepee. Dornan’s would become like a second home to us because they serve made-to-order breakfast, too.

As we ate, the rain poured down and a distinct chill settled in. We lingered until the sky miraculously lightened up again, then made our way to the Gros Ventre Campground, which is like the typical Smokies campground, smalls sites with a picnic table, a bathhouse, but no showers or electricity. I was just happy to not put up my tent in the rain. Despite the travel and the hike, it was typically hard to get to sleep the first night away from home. I thought about those high, sharp mountains that still had plenty of snow on them. I had not forgotten about the ice axe videos. What would the rest of the week bring?

A Teaser From the Tetons

Oh Give Me A Home...
 
Forget about those Smokies bear jams - humans are far outnumbered by buffalo crossing the roads out in Wyoming. Notice the second one from the right has a passenger on his back (click on photo to view full screen).


Up Close Animal Report:

Moose: 1
Elk: 2
Deer: 3 (way close!)
Marmots: about 30
Pikas: about 10
Chipmunks: about 20
Bears: none (yay!)
Snakes: none (too cold)
Backpackers: lots
Tourons: way too many