Tetons

October 4, 2010

Nature is happening all around us. The Grand Tetons invoke grand weather.  We see clouds flying by, wind whipping the water into white, rain coming and going quickly; the drops make small noises on the tarp above me that Nick expertly erected just in time.  Today is a different kind of day, it feels unannounced and volatile.  The days of the past few have been predictable, crisp in the morning, sun comes out and wakes and warms everything up, tank top hot in the afternoon, and lingering warmth until sunset.  Today is our first cloudy day, and it’s hard to know what to think of it because we don’t know what’s going to happen.  This morning we did a long, upward in elevation hike, that ended at aptly named Inspiration Point, offering a panorama view of the Tetons and the surrounding lands.  It was a little treacherous and rocky towards the top, and the extensive quad action was worth the view ten times over.  Inspiration Point is a singular place, but there’s nothing about this whole expansive area that’s not inspiring.  There are so many pull outs off of the main loop road around the park, and each offer a commanding view of something awe inspiring.  Whether it’s the mountains or the plains, the glassy clear lakes, the rivers that snake through the prairie, the creeks that gurgle and talk and beckon, here at the Grand Tetons, there is such variety and completeness of inspiration.   

As we came down from Inspiration Point, which clocks in at 7200 feet in elevation, the wind was talking to us for the first time in days.  It’s been so still lately, the wind in my hair and on my skin was welcome.  We heard the high pitch creak of huge old pines, and we could hear the wind on the water around Jenny Lake.  

This swath of country is known for both it’s grand scenery, and its wild, unkempt ways once you step into nature.  When we were getting used to Yellowstone, and looking for trails and sights, I asked one of the park rangers about the reality of bears. He said, “Well, you never know, once you cross the borders of the park anything could happen.”  It does feel like anything could happen, there are signs everywhere about respecting wildlife, and there are strict rules at the campsites about using the bear proof containers for storing food and toiletry related items.  There haven’t been any publicized animal attacks, but it is reality that wildlife are wild, and should be observed at a safe distance.  

There is evidence everywhere that the animals are here, but we’ve yet to have any close encounters. 

I fall into the category of people that are drawn to wild animals, it’s a combination of awe, fear, thrill and spectacle.  I don’t want to have to fend off grizzlies in the night, but I’d love to see one cross the trail and scamper away at a good distance.  It’s magnetic even, our eyes are so peeled as we drive in Yellowstone and Grand Tetons, hoping for a glance of something moving.  On many of our hikes we have to take closer looks at large rocks in the distance, waiting to see if that particular rock moves.  I spotted a female elk in a small valley below us on a hike (Beaver Pond) at Yellowstone, at it was so well camouflaged that I said, “Is that an elk, or does that rock have fur?”   We have seen mule deer and bison galore, and we’ve spotted elk in a few different places.  One night at dusk we saw 17 (I counted) female elk on a ridge, walking at a leisurely, but purposeful pace.  And just today Nick pulled a prompt u-turn to catch saw a pair of male elk near the road.  Their racks are so large, I can’t quite fathom them maneuvering in the forest brush, preceded by wide and obtrusive antlers.  They must be really aware of their bodies in space.  The sporadic sightings of elk are surrounded by a very frequent aural elk experience.  We hear the elk talking to each other a lot.  It’s sort of like a high pitched tooth whistle, and like clockwork, almost every night and early morning we hear them, and can place their whereabouts based on their sounds.  At Mammoth Springs Campground in Yellowstone, we woke up to bellowing elk.  As I scooted out of the tent, I could see the elk on the ridge just above us, perfectly in time with the rising sun, their profile highlighted against the sky.  This was one of the more magical times of this trip, when nature and I come together synchronously, I always end up feeling so grateful.  

And now, it’s still sprinkling softly, the sun is out and low in the sky, we can see the cloud capped Tetons from the campsite, and the light is ripe for rainbows.  What a gift this time has been. 

We were so lucky to have this view just a few feet down a hill from our campsite.