Author: tyler

Pic: Good, yes, good, hmm. Trail’s End Motel, Dubois, WY

Here are some fun facts about Dubois, WY, courtesy Wikipedia:

• On December 30, 2014, several businesses burned to the ground in the downtown area. The air temperatures at the time of the blaze were hovering near -35 degrees with wind chills in the 50 below zero range. Firefighters battled freezing equipment and gear throughout the night to get the fire under control.

• Dubois was originally known as Never Sweat due to its warm and dry winds. However, the postal service found the name unacceptable, so it endowed the town with the name Dubois after Fred Dubois, an Idaho senator at the time. In protest, the citizens of Dubois rejected the French pronunciation, instead opting for Du, with u as in “Sue”; bois, with oi as in “voice”. The accent is on the first syllable.

Pic: Polemic on the modern small town. Men’s room, Cowboy Cafe, Dubois, WY

Pic: Pecan pie tin: ✅ Yellow Pages: ✅ Post-it note: ❌ Recycling bin, Grand Teton NP, WY

My backpacking trip was a success! I learned a lot that I hoped would come in handy for avoiding the crowds in Yellowstone.

The two miles back to the car included a 400′ descent that I definitely felt in my knees. On the way, I encountered a small group who immediately asked me if I’d seen any pine martens. The specificity of the inquiry so stunned me that I forgot what a pine marten was: “Uh, is that a bird?”

“No, like a weasel.”

“Oh, right. No pine martens, I’m afraid. Just squirrels. And some marmots. Oh, and a moose had lunch with me.”

My takeaway from Grand Teton was that the really good stuff involves multi-day loops through two or more mountain passes. While it’s true that I was too unprepared, too out-of-shape, too lazy, and arguably too alone for several days of climbing multiple thousands of feet while carrying a heavy pack, my official reason for rejecting a more ambitious plan in the Tetons was this warning in the Park Service’s Backcountry Camping publication[1]:

Safe travel over [high-altitude divides and passes] may require an ice axe and knowledge of its use into August.

Since the closest I’d come to an ice axe was binge-watching mountaineering movies last year[2], I decided to remain grateful for the glimpses I’d seen of the Tetons’ vast and striking interior and return another time.

I continued to not see any pine martens as I giggled through Moran Junction toward a motel room, but I did see my first bison!

Pic: Back in Jackson, we got a saying: we’re walkin’ here! Grand Teton NP, WY

 

[1] nps.gov: Backcountry Camping

[2] My favorite was The Summit but K2 had some vintage 1991 je ne sais quoi.

Pic: Dammit, granite. Prospectors Mountain from Open Canyon, Grand Teton NP, WY

Jetboiled instant oatmeal consumed, I looped around a finger of Teton granite to reach adjacent Open Canyon. I reached the camping area and was headed deeper when I rounded a corner and encountered a moose cow on the trail. She glared at me with a look that said, “I am much bigger than you and I think you should leave.” I backed away quietly. Satisfied, she went back to munching leaves. Wait, didn’t I just write this?

I knew how this story would end so I retreated to a boulder field I’d passed, startled some marmots back into their dens, and found a nice flat rock to enjoy the view and a sandwich.

About halfway through my turkey and cheese, I heard something moving noisily through the brush 25 yards away. The moose had joined me for lunch! A little presumptuous given how curt she’d been when I interrupted her meal, but I didn’t mind.

After an hour’s rest I bid my lunch date farewell and took a parallel trail back so I could swing past Phelps Lake for a quick view from above. Pretty, but didn’t seem worth the descent to the shoreline so I continued on “home”. Total damage for the day: 7.5 mi, 600′.

I had forgotten how good instant ramen tastes in the backcountry: hot, salty, and delicious — much like myself.

Pic: Backpacking chic. Granite Canyon, Grand Teton NP, WY

Pic: US-191 meets US-26/US-287. Moran, WY

The first rule of road trip is: don’t break yourself.

The second rule of road trip is: don’t break your car.

I violated #2 today : (. I was distracted by packing for my two-nighter in Lower Granite Canyon and did too much USB charging without running Isa’s engine. Result: dead battery.

Luckily, my probably-legal campsite was near a road that led to a small cluster of houses. It took only an hour of sitting by the road with my jumper cables on display before a nice couple in their 60s stopped to help. Isa started right up, the good Samaritans declined my offer of cash or a cold soda, and the backpacking scheme was back on track.

Light was fading fast in the canyon by the time I arrived at the backcountry camping area. The first spot looked pretty good but, like a dog circling before lying down, I always feel compelled to browse; maybe the next site is even better!

My concession to the secretary problem ended quickly when I rounded a corner and encountered a moose cow on the trail. She glared at me with a look that said, “I am much bigger than you and I think you should leave.” I backed away quietly. Satisfied, she went back to munching leaves. I waited a bit to see if she’d wander away, but she only continued further up the trail. I returned to the first site and set up camp — I wasn’t here to argue accommodations with a moose.

Pic: Hey, dummy. Where’d you learn to be so dumb? Moran, WY

The name “Moran” shows up a lot in northwestern Wyoming. There’s Mt. Moran, Moran Point, Moran Junction, and the remote community of Moran, WY (Wyoming’s “coldest continually inhabited place”[1]). They are all named after Thomas Moran, a little-known American treasure. Moran’s evocative paintings were instrumental in the creation of Yellowstone National Park, a crucial early victory for the nascent Conservation movement.

None of that stopped me from giggling whenever I saw the name, however, due to this meme from 2003.

Pic: Imperfect re-creation, but not bad for materials on-hand imo. Moran, WY

My apologies to the citizens of Moran. Your area is lovely, your post office delivered my postcards, and a few of your residents saved my bacon. Your town’s name is just funny to me. I blame that guy from St. Louis.

 

[1] A record low of -63 °F!

Pic: GTNP branding is on point. Café Court, Grand Teton NP, WY

Today’s main accomplishment was deciding on Lower Granite Canyon for tomorrow’s two-night backpack, including a sidehike to Open Canyon. I was excited but nervous for my first backpacking trip in ten years and my first solo backpack ever.

Today’s secondary accomplishment was a short hike up to Grand View Point (3.4 mi, 800′). The view was indeed pretty grand: Tetons on one side of the ridge, Two Oceans Lake and Emma Matilda Lake on the other.

Pic: Jackson Lake and Grand Teton from Grand View Point, Grand Teton NP, WY

I’m still not seeing why French trappers thought these mountains looked like breasts, but when you’ve been trapping fur in the wilderness for months at a time I guess the mind sees what it wants to see.

Pic: Your fur is red, so beautiful. Red fox, Bridger-Teton NF, WY

Just before I turned onto a jeep track that lead to what I’m pretty sure was legal camping, I came across a fox doing that thing where it ducked down, shook its haunches, and leapt into the air attempting to pounce on a bird. It missed, but came over to check out the noisy, smelly, silver thing in the road for a moment before casually disappearing into the tall grass.

Pic: “…the hell is this thing?” Red fox, Bridger-Teton NF, WY

Pic: Five boobs. Jackson Lake, Grand Teton NP, WY

I awoke to sunrise and “Bark! Bark! Barkhoooooooooooowl!” A pause. Then: “Bark! Bark! Barkhoooooooooooowl!”

“Control your dog, sir,” I thought, but as the ruckus persisted I decided it sounded a little howl-y for a dog. I walked around the corner to investigate, also scouting the muddy stretch that threatened to keep Isa and me from returning to the main road. A lone coyote sat in the meadow 150 yards away, bark bark barkholwing into the wide-open valley and getting no response. It was clearly aware of me as I came into view, ears perked and gaze locked on the weird bipedal interloper. Eventually it stopped howling and wandered off.

Driving back toward Jackson through the National Elk Refuge, I met up with a pronghorn jogging next to the road. I slowed down. “Are you going to be smart and stay on your side?” I asked. Nope! It zagged directly in front of me, crossed the road, and continued running in the same direction at the same speed on the other side. Prey animals!

After a quick brunch to satisfy my latent addiction to eggs benedict, I stopped at JD High Country Outfitters to pick up some gear I would need for backpacking in grizzly country. I chatted with the saleswoman about bear cans and bear spray and learned that for twenty years she had run the affordable housing program in the town where I was born and raised. We talked about being a socialist in red country. She said being a liberal gun nut helped and told me how much she liked her AR-15.

I spent the afternoon driving through the park with short stops to explore String Lake, Jenny Lake, and Jackson Lake Dam. The Tetons formed a picturesque backdrop for everything in the valley, rising up seemingly out of nothing.

Pic: Everyone’s a building burning. Teewinot Mountain, Grand Teton, and Mt. Owen. Jenny Lake Rd, Grand Teton NP, WY

Pic: Slime mold with fruiting bodies; neither plant nor fungus, slime molds are weird Communist collectives of single-celled organisms. Goodwin Lake Trail, Bridger-Teton NF, WY

Things that are unnerving:

• Waking up in the middle of the night to lightning, thunder, rain, and wind. How long has it been raining? How saturated is the ground? How far away from those three huge pine trees did I set up the tent??
• Waking up in the middle of the night to every coyote in the valley howling at each other simultaneously. How many coyotes could I fight off while wrapped in a sleeping bag??

With the help of some mobile signal and MyRadar, I found a relatively dry-looking window in the day’s thundershowers. I took my pizza-bagel-under-a-tree break a little early when, fifteen minutes into the hike, the showers escalated to actual rain and hail for fifteen minutes. After that first half-hour, I had calm weather for the rest of the climb to Goodwin Lake.

Pic: It was good, hikin’ to you, a-ha. Goodwin Lake, Bridger-Teton NF, WY

Things that hurry you back down the hill to the parking lot:

• When you see lightning and only count four Mississippis before you hear thunder.

Pic: Ten times more charming than that Arnold on Green Acres. Bathroom door, Merry Piglets Mexican Grill, Jackson, WY

Rock Springs presented me one final gift during my last errand of the day (buying additional hiking socks):

Pic: Presented without comment. Sports Authority, Rock Springs, WY

Part of the main quest for this road trip was the “Where do I live next?” game. Whenever I would eat lunch or buy groceries in a town, I’d daydream about what it might be like to
live there. Pinedale, WY, on the way to Jackson, was the first town to get serious consideration due to its motto: All The Civilization You Need. Hoback Valley had a little of that “this could be my playground” feel, but I decided seventy minutes (in good weather) to Jackson Hole was too far.