On the drive from Bend, OR to Jackson, WY I intend to stop in Boise (Boyz-ee) but as I get closer to the city the highway gets bigger, signs announce this and that turn off, the traffic increases and I realize that I am not at all eager to explore a city. Nature is calling, loudly, and I can’t push back against its pull.
I find myself at a fork in the road, both directions pointing to Jackson, and aim left – I do not study the contours of the map, but I am very soon alerted by multiple signs along the road that I am about to enter the Teton Pass: there will be steep inclines, RVs and trucks are not allowed, the road is closed in winter, and again another sign alerting Rvs and trucks they are not allowed. A part of me wants to turn around – my car does poorly on steep inclines.
I keep going. It is still very early and I should not have a line of agitated drivers behind me.
The car quickly slows down. It inches forward slowly in 2nd gear. I have the road to myself and can safely, but still with a little sense of danger, navigate the turns and enjoy the scenery as I rise, it seems, above the land. Sometimes I catch myself trying to give the car some leverage by moving my body close to the steering wheel and swinging a little…
At the peak, a sign informs me of a steep decline and to check my breaks. I stop the car. Breaks work. Check complete. The car’s engine is hot, so at the summit, I find a rock to perch on and have my breakfast.
This is the dream. I’m living the dream.
Arrving in Jackson is a shock. Cars and people. Tour buses. Tour groups. Gift shops. Galleries galore. Once I find a parking space I am ready to leave the town, but I do the mandatory walk around the town square before I get back in the car and drive into Grand Teton National Park.
Grand Tenton National Park is situated in Jackson’s hole, a valley that stretches east of the Teton peaks. The park is magnificent – the peaks stretch into the sky to the West, the flat prairie stretches out before you and to the east, and the Snake River runs through the middle. The peaks often seem to acquire a purplish tint to them, and the grasses change from green to a crisp golden. I’ve arrived in Narnia.
I’m blissful. A. B Guthrie’s Big Sky, which I just finished reading, describes this landscape and as I drive through I imagine Boone, Jim and Dick navigating through the land, trying to find a pass through the mountains, riding high on their horses. I imagine the Native Americans (the Blackfeet in this region I believe) moving their camps before the first winter’s snow. I imagine myself here in those times – hiking, fishing, riding horses, hunting for my food, my skin weathered and brown, the skin on the soles of my feet tough as leather. I like the thought of it and reminisce about tree planting, living out in the bush, body weathered and growing strong, mind clearing. I think I can do this – I can be a mountain man. It’s on the ‘things to do’ list. I aim to research volunteer opportunities.
I am spending my first night at Gros Ventre, on the Southern tip of the park because the Park Ranger kindly informed me that all other sites were already full, but that tomorrow morning I should get up early and make my way to Jenny Lake Campground where there are 51 first-come, first-served beautiful tent sites, next to Jenny Lake and many of the hiking trails.
I do get up early, am at Jenny Lake by 5,50am and already a few cars in front of me.
Before we can claim our sites, which we are told we’ll get because we’re early, we’re asked to step out of the car and the campground host delivers his ‘bear talk.’ He beings to weave a story of 4 lovable bears (Cinnamon, Newbie, Mohawk…and a fourth whose name I don’t recall) that live in the area and frequent the campsite. Mohawk doesn’t have good table manners – he’s known to get up onto the tables and do a thorough job of cleaning them with his tongue. The others generally just stroll by, once in a while decimating the root of a tree in search for food (or to keep those claws sharpened, I imagine.) None of them have shown any interest in humans, and that’s because we haven’t proved to be a source of food. We have to sign a waver showing our understanding of the rules – no food, toiletries, washing basins, water bottles or anything that will smell of food or have residual food smell is to be left unattended or put into the tent. All things that smell have to be kept either in the boot of your car or in the bear box that sits on each campsite. We are told to have a ‘bear plan’ when we make our food, making sure that we can safely and quickly pack up our food and camping stoves and put them into the bear box is there is a bear alert – the hosts on their gold buggy driving through the site shouting ‘bear.’ If you forget these rules, yellow signs are tacked onto 2 places in each campsite to remind you.
This talk is not intended to instil fear. Last year 14 bears had to be killed because humans were not careful enough to store their food – once a bear gets a taste, it will purposely frequent the campsite in search of food. This is when bears may start to become more aggressive, and thus dangerous.
So, keep a clean site. Be smart. Save the bears.
I spend 3 days in Grand Teton National Park and quickly fall in love with it. Along the scenic drive it is difficult not to stop at each turn out and again marvel at the jagged mountains, the golden grasses in the valley and the calm, still lakes. I am constantly reminded of how small I am and how big and diverse Earth is, how beautiful, how interesting, majestic and mysterious.
And in the evening, when I sip on my beer by the fire, I feel like Boone:
“Boone rested back on his elbows, feeling large and good, feeling the whisky warming his belly and spreading out, so that his arms and legs and neck all felt strong and pleasured, as if each had a happy little life of its own. This was the way to live, free and easy, whit time all a man’s own and none to say no to him. A body got so’s he felt everything was kin to him, the earth and sky and buffalo and beaver and the yellow moon a night. It was better than being walled in by a house, better than breathing in spoiled air and feeling caged like a varmit, better than running after the law or having the law running after you and looking to rules all the time until you wondered could you even take down your pants without somebody’s say-so. Here a man lived natural.” (Guthrie’s The Big Sky, 201)
For my daily hikes I bring the bear spray I was urged to purchase by the ranger, especially when she found out that I’m a party of one and intended to do some longer hikes in the mornings. Along with the bear spray, I was given a lesson on how to use it and then had to demonstrate my learning. The ranger, who has worked in the park for some years said she’s seen many bears, one who even fell out of a tree in front of her. She’s always had the bear spray ready, but never had to use it. Nor did I – didn’t even see any bears. I wonder if they saw me.
I am free, liberated, alive. My body is strong and able as I hike, the rising sun shooing the night’s chill away. I sense opportunity, have a keen sense of adventure, and feel the energy that will help me to achieve. (Perhaps cheesy, but true. Nature does something wonderful to a body and its mind.)
