The Grand Tetons - Entering In to Awe and Wonder

The Snake River and the Grand Tetons

Snake River and the Tetons

My first - and only - full day in the Tetons! I must make the most of it. I scouted the terrain yesterday, got the lay of the land. I know which sites I must visit or re-visit today, catching the sun in just the right position for good "shots" of this grandeur. But first I have breakfast at the Jackson Lake Lodge. We owe this lodge, too, to good ole John D. Rockefeller, who was reportedly so taken with the view that he purchased the land and then paid for construction of the lodge. The lodge boasts lobby windows 60 feet tall, with their view of the craggy Tetons. My breakfast table is against the windows, and I eat in reflection. My eggs are scrambled with mushrooms, onions, and . . . elk! Oh, here goes that conflict again. I push it away (the thought, not the food). I will not decide this conflict today. Instead I will focus on the land. I grab a cup of coffee and go. It is 50 degrees, totally blue sky. It is a perfect photography day.

Snake River and the Tetons

I feel pressed for time. The sun is moving, and I only have today and tomorrow morning. I need to capture all that I can before the sun moves and I must turn and face the other direction. I drive and I stop, I drive and I stop. Sometimes it takes me an hour to cover a couple of miles. I stop at the Snake River just east of the Jackson Dam. The shrubs and trees lining its banks glow gold and orange in the morning light. The River is blue, reflecting the blue of the morning sky. There are no clouds. The Tetons rise slate gray in the distance. This is a popular spot, there are numerous cars in the turnout. But no one gets any closer to the River. They all shoot from the edge of the road, turn and leave. I scramble down the bank and walk its edge. I find new views, different angles. I see that the view to the east catches the sun in ways that make its colors more brilliant than the view to the west, of the mountains themselves. I examine the rocks in the river. I watch the birds, osprey and I think cormorant, sunning themselves. I am in my element. If I had more time I would stay here for hours, would wander the edge of the lake all the way to the dam, up and over, then back around. I would explore. But the sun is moving, so I must move on also. 

I find Elk Ranch Flats, on the "outer" road. There are two roads that run north and south through the Grand Teton National Park. The eastern road, Hwy 26, runs alongside ranch land, that looks up to the Tetons in the West. The western road, Teton Park Road, runs along the eastern edge of the Tetons and the lakes at their base. Elk Ranch Flats is on Hwy 26. Grassland stretches for miles, up to the Snake River, which is bordered by pines and golden aspen. Buck and rail fences mark the land. It seems like the foliage has become more brilliant overnight. I find Cunningham Cabin, homesteaded by J. Pierce Cunningham who staked a claim under the Homestead Act around 1890. The Homestead Act of 1862 allowed folks to claim up to 160 acres of land if they would build a cabin and live on the land for at least five years while growing certain crops. I think to myself that I need to check and see if the provisions of that Act are still in effect. . . . I find a field of horses, easing themselves into the day, some standing, some lying down, one rolling in the grass. I think I understand how he feels, rolling in delight at the grandeur of the day.


Cunningham Cabin

Cow Moose

   

I see a crowd of people gathered at the edge of some woods. This signals that there has been "a sighting." I stop, too, not wanting to miss whatever it is. "It" is a pair of moose, about 20 yards apart, snuggled into the shrubs and bushes. She is calmly chewing her cud. I can’t tell what he is doing, as all I can see is his antlers. I watch for a while, then leave when there is no movement other than the jaw of the cow . . . There is more to find. I see a pronghorn standing in the outwash plain. He is moving rather funny, first he scratches in the dirt, then he stretches forward, his back legs out an angle . . . Hah! I watch him pee! Then I watch him watch me, and we commune for a few minutes. I discover the Circle EW Ranch, one of the few ranches still in the hands of the original owners. A dirt road leads back through the yellow field, to the buildings, hidden in the distance. I am drawn to photographs of dirt roads leading into the landscape. I hold here for a while.  


Pronghorn

I find Mener’s Ferry, land homesteaded by William D. Menor in 1894, who claimed land under the Homestead Act next to the Snake River, then built a ferry to allow folks to cross that River. I "discover" the Chapel of the Transfiguration next to Menor’s Ferry. This little log Chapel was built in the early 1900's and still holds services during the summer. I wander down to the edge of Jenny Lake again, this time with the sun shining strong against the mountains. There is a stiff wind whipping up the waves. The water is blue black. Fallen trees edge into the water. And I feel it happening, I feel myself entering in, a mystical spiritual experience that happens every now and then. I cannot make it happen, it just comes of its own accord. Today it is here. And I relax in it for a while.

Jenny Lake

Jackson Hole, Wyoming

When I begin exploring again, I decide that I must drive into the little town of Jackson Hole while I’m here. I am a bit disappointed when I do. The town is not garishly built, rather composed of wooden buildings with a western flair. But it hosts such stores as Coldwater Creek, Eddie Bauer, and even a Ripley’s Believe It or Not. There are some quaint touches, like arches at the corners of the town square made solely of elk antlers. And then, there’s the Cowboy Bar. Unfortunately, the only cowboys I’ve seen sport license plates that read Wisconsin, Ohio, Washington . . . I don’t think the clothes make the man . . . I don’t dally in Jackson, instead head back toward the Park. I stop at the edge of the National Elk Refuge, winter home to almost 10,000 elk. I think that I would like to come back and see that spectacle.



National Elk Refuge

Sated for the day, I find myself wandering back to Dornans. The top deck is almost empty of people. I order chicken gorgonzola and a glass of merlot, and I sit, savoring the view that has enraptured me throughout the day. I read a bit. I call a few friends. I sit and I breathe. And once again I just be. What a day. I think of the mystical spiritual experience of earlier this day. As I try to put into words what was happening, my thoughts go to the little wooden chapel, then I think of all I have seen today. And I think,

Today my chapel has no structure. Instead its ceiling extends endlessly through sky and beyond. Its walls are mountain and river, rock and plain, field and forest. Its message is constrained only by the depth of my soul. I enter in, to Awe and Wonder. The Great Mystery speaks wordlessly to my heart, and we are as one in silence. I exist only now.

Blacktail Butte

Yes, it is Good.

Donna
©September 20, 2010

Jenny Lake

From Dornans

Wyoming - Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons!

The Tetons - Jenny Lake & Mount Moran



Yellowstone - Palette Springs

I begin the day in the tiny town of Gardiner, Montana, population 846! Gardiner is the Northwest entrance to Yellowstone and appears to be solely a tourist town. However, it is not an upscale tourist town, rather a small, rustic village. The main "thoroughfare" is no longer than one mile long. There are no traffic lights, and I only see a couple of stop signs. Except for the gas stations, it looks like an old western town. I enjoy the feel. It is 55 degrees when I head out. I am delighted that the sky is totally blue, no clouds, but disappointed that a wildfire burning in the Park has caused the vistas to be hazy with smoke. It may not be a good photography day. If the smoke does not blow off with the wind, it will be difficult for those who plan to stay and play in Yellowstone, as the smoke is thick and acrid. I head south into Mammoth Hot Springs, stopping only long enough to take a couple of photographs of Electric Peak and Sepulchre, the two mountains which tower over Gardiner from the west. Then I briefly capture some shots in Mammoth of colorful Palette Spring.

Yellowstone - Swan Lake

Just south of Mammoth I find pretty little Swan Lake, in the middle of a large, flat grassland. Swan Lake Flats is ringed by Electric Peak and Sepulchre to the north and Mt. Holmes, Dome Mountain, Antler Peak, and Quadrant Mountain to the west, all part of the Gallatin Mountains. I wander down to the lake, and spend a bit of time in this area. The smoke is to the east, leaving these mountains and grasslands clear. The sky is blue, it is 58 degrees, there is a breeze blowing, and the grasses glow gold in the morning light. I sigh with contentment. What a great beginning to the day. I continue south, enjoying the continuous glow of the day. Autumn has obviously arrived. The grasses are various shades of gold, aspens are turning yellow, various bushes and other ground coverings glow red and orange. And the sun sits low on the horizon, highlighting the colors with its warm rays.

I went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in. —John Muir

Yellowstone - Aspen amid the young
lodgepole pine

I soon begin driving through acres of forests, composed primarily of lodgepole pines. However, it is evident that there has been a catastrophe at some point, as miles and miles of hillside are composed of dead trees, some still standing, some lying flat on the ground. In many areas there are young pines, approximately 6-10 feet tall, growing among the dead trunks. Signs indicate that there were two fires which devastated this area, one in 1976 and another in 1988. Fire is generally not as devastating as it might be for lodgepole pines. Apparently fire opens the cones of the parent trees and spreads the seeds, allowing young lodgepole pines to spring up not long after a fire. These forests were full of new growth from the 1976 fire when the 1988 conflagration swept through. However, the young pines were not hardy enough to withstand the inferno, and whole mountains were wiped clear. Rangers were unsure whether or not these stands would regenerate. Happily, they have begun to grow, though it will be many years before mature forests exist once again.

It is not so much for its beauty that the forest makes a claim upon men's hearts, as for that subtle something, that quality of air that emanation from old trees, that so wonderfully changes and renews a weary spirit. --Robert Louis Stevenson



Yellowstone - Berryl Spring

I know from Park literature that I am now inside the caldera. The caldera is a 30 by 45 mile wide basin created by collapse of the land when the last volcano erupted 640,000 years ago. (How do they know that, that it was precisely 640,000 years ago?) Driving down the road I see steam rising from the ground! In some places there are puddles of boiling water, flanked by warning signs! More steam rises from the water at the edges of some of the rivers. I do not play in the water here, concerned that it might be scalding. In many areas the ground is white and bare, with no ground cover growing beneath the trees. In some areas there are no trees even. The heat and minerals which bubble up from below destroy the living organisms. I skip the numerous geyser basins today, wanting to get into Grand Teton National Park before it gets too late. However I think on the fact that I am wandering inside an active volcano. There is even a website dedicated to documenting the numerous minor earthquakes that take place here in Yellowstone each day. I do stop to photograph Berryl Springs at the Gibbon River. This hot spring is colored aquamarine from the bacteria and bubbles up vigorously. A vent at the side of the spring blows noisily, as steam escapes under great pressure. I hope the pressure holds until I return home . . .

Yellowstone - Firehole River

The Gibbon River heads to the west and is replaced instead by Firehole River which now parallels the road. The autumn sun accents gold and orange bushes growing at the edge of the river. The colors are intense, vivid green trees, bright orange bushes, deep blue sky and water. Sometimes I stop and just sit, stirred by what I see. Fly fisherman practice their artistry; I am a good audience, appreciative of their skills, and I surreptitiously take photographs. I am reminded again of the book and movie A River Runs Through It.

Yellowstone - Firehole Fisherman

Below him was the multitudinous river, and, where the rock had parted it around him, big-grained vapor rose. The mini-molecules of water left in the wake of his line made momentary loops of gossamer, disappearing so rapidly in the rising big-grained vapor that they had to be retained in memory to be visualized as loops. The spray emanating from him was finer-grained still and enclosed him in a halo of himself. The halo of himself was always there and always disappearing, as if he were candlelight flickering about three inches from himself. The images of himself and his line kept disappearing into the rising vapors of the river, which continually circles to the tops of the cliffs where, after becoming a wreath in the wind, they became rays of the sun. —Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through It

Yellowstone - Lewis River

At this southwest edge of Yellowstone, the forests are now flat, no mountains in the near distance. But these are large, mature trees. There is no evidence of past fire down here. I cross the continental divide three times. I am surprised to see that I am at altitudes of 8,262 and 8,391 feet. I thought there were no mountains in this area - apparently I do not see them because I am on top of them! Occasional lakes open at the side of the road. I stop at each to play . . . Lewis Lake is rather large. It has an interesting bed made of black gravel, in which are scattered various colored stones. I see large fallen trees on the lake bottom. Just past Lewis Lake I discover Lewis Falls, 20 feet high, accented by colorful aspen. Then around the bend Lewis River is lined by crimson colored bushes that emit a sweet smell. I don’t know what they are. I want to know what they are! There is so much to know.

Yellowstone - Lewis Falls

All there is to thinking is seeing something noticeable which makes you see something you weren't noticing which makes you see something that isn't even visible.  —Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through It



Yellowstone - Lewis Lake



Yellowstone - Lewis Lake



The Tetons

Soon I leave Yellowstone and drive a short distance down John D. Rockefeller, Jr. Memorial Highway before entering the Grand Teton National Park. We have John D. to thank for much of the Park. When Congress deadlocked on decisions about inclusion of certain lands, John D. quietly bought up 35,000 acres of farm and ranch land which he then donated for an expanded Park. Thank you John D. Soon I am gratified to see peaks rising in the distance. And very soon I round a corner and discover Jackson Lake, across from which are the magnificent jagged peaks of the Grand Tetons. These are Connie’s mountains, and they are as awesome as she has described. I have never been in this Park before, and I know I will enjoy making it mine.

Tetons - Mount Moran

I had not made reservations at a hotel in this area, not knowing where I would be when night fell. It is 3:30 and I’d like to have accommodations settled. I stop at Jackson Lake Lodge and ask if they have a room for the night. There are no lodge rooms "with a view," but they do have cabins available. The cabins actually are much like motel rooms, except they are constructed of weathered wood and sit under the trees on each side of the lodge. The desk clerk tells me that rooms are normally $225 per night. He then adds, "But I can do $179 . . ." Well, I guess I can "do" $170/night also for this special trip, given that when I checked before leaving Florida, rooms in nearby Jackson were running at a minimum of $150/night. I say I’ll take it.  Then I begin exploring.

The Tetons & Outwash Plain

I discover numerous pulloffs that display the mountains against various foreground. The road runs through "outwash plain" composed primarily of sagebrush, dotted with arrowleaf balsamroot, larkspur, lupine, and other low plants. The road also runs beside pine forest which edge up to the base of the mountains or to pretty little mountain lakes. It is so delightful to play among lakes which are not lined by houses and docks! I discover Jenny Lake, and wander among the boulders at the water’s edge, gazing in awe at the Tetons rising from the far side of the lake. I find the Snake River, that grand old lady that has her headwaters in Yellowstone, heads south into Wyoming, runs wide through Idaho and Washington, then joins the Columbia before she exits into the Pacific. I discover ranch land dotted with stands of aspen glowing in the late day’s sunlight.

And as I begin to tire, I find Dornans, where Connie and family spend many weeks each summer. Connie has told me numerous stories of Dornans, a crossroads "community" that, together with the Grand Teton Park Service, compose Moose, Wyoming. Dornans consists of about a dozen cabins, a small store, and a small restaurant owned by the same family since the land was originally homesteaded, five generations ago. I am delighted to be able to relax on the deck on the top of the building, resting my sated self for an hour or so, thinking over my last few days and planning for tomorrow. I toast Connie with a glass of merlot.  And I sit and think.  I think funny thoughts. I think that I know it’s been a good one when there are no flush toilets to be found once I leave the hotel early in the day. I know it’s been an even better day when I have to pee in the woods at least once. It’s been a very good day! And I think mysterious thoughts. I think that I feel at home here, even though I’ve never visited this area before. But it seems that I feel at home in most wild areas I am fortunate to wander, like the Beartooth and Yellowstone yesterday, or the Smokies and the Olympic Peninsula. I wonder what it is that draws me so to wild land? I do know that were John Muir still alive, I would ask him to marry me, no matter his age. And then I would accompany him on all his travels. 

Oh, these vast, calm, measureless mountain days, inciting at once to work and rest! Days in whose light everything seems equally divine, opening a thousand windows to show us God. Nevermore, however weary, should one faint by the way who gains the blessings of one mountain day; whatever his fate, long life, short life, stormy or calm, he is rich forever. —John Muir

It is good.

Donna

© September 19, 2010







Wyoming and Montana - The Beartooth and Yellowstone!

The Beartooth - Silver Run Wildlife Management
Area, Custer National Forest

The Beartooth Highway and Yellowstone National Park, Montana and Wyoming! What a day. It is only 120 miles from Red Lodge, where I spent last night to Gardiner, where I am spending tonight. But it took me eight hours to make the trip. I wandered the hills and sauntered the trails. I stopped to take photographs. I stopped to examine the rocks. I stopped to play in the waters. I stopped to see.  I stopped to be, out in it . .

Blue sky. Temperatures ranging from 34 to 74. Mild breeze. Stiff wind. Juniper, Aspen, Lodgepole Pine, Spruce, Fir, Sagebrush. Clarks Fork of the Yellowstone River, Soda Butte Creek, Pebble Creek, Lamar River, Gardner River, Yellowstone River.  Beartooth Lake, Gardner Lake, unnamed alpine lakes.  Bison, Chipmunk, Elk, Marmot.  Beartooth Butte, Druid Peak, The Thunderer, Mt. Norris.  All magnificent!!  I am sunburned, windburned, chapped, dried out, and tired. It’s been a great day in all ways. And I ran out of words. I have no words to describe all there was, except magnificent.  I will use the words of others.

From the Beartooth Highway - Beartooth Mountains



Chipmunk w/a sweet tooth at a pullout.



Self-explanatory . . .

He showed her things of the mountain, things in the sky,
things in the pools and streams wherever they went. He
did better than tell her about them, he made her see them,
and then the things themselves told her.

George McDonald


Beartooth - Alpine Lake



"There is at least a punky spark in my heart and it may blaze in this autumn gold, fanned by the King. Some of my grandfathers must have been born on a muirland for there is heather in me, and tinctures of bog juices, that send me to Cassiope, and oozing through all my veins impel me unhaltingly through endless glacier meadows, seemingly the deeper and danker the better."

John Muir

Beartooth - Clarke's Fork River



Beartooth Butte







Beartooth Highway - Custer National Forest

If the landscape reveals one certainty, it is that the extravagant gesture is the very stuff of creation. After the one extravagant gesture of creation in the first place, the universe has continued to deal exclusively in extravagances, flinging intricacies and colossi down aeons of emptiness, heaping profusions on profligacies with ever-fresh vigor.  The whole show has been on fire from the word go. I come down to the water to cool my eyes. But everywhere I look I see fire; that which isn't flint is tinder, and the whole world sparks and flames.

Annie Dillard

Yellowstone - From Lamar River Trail Trailhead

Yellowstone - Soda butte Creek

Variation on a Theme by Rilke

A certain day became a presence to me;

there it was, confronting me--a sky, air, light:

a being. And before it started to descend

from the height of noon, it leaned over

and struck my shoulder as if with

the flat of a sword, granting me

honor and a task. The day's blow

rang out, metallic--or it was I, a bell awakened,

and what I heard was my whole self

saying and singing what it knew: I can.

Denise Levertov

Yellowstone - Cairn in Soda
Butte Creek (my addition on top)

Yellowstone from Lamar River Horse Trail Trailhead



Yellowstone - Northeast Section of Park

At some moments we experience complete unity within us and around us. This may happen when we stand on a mountaintop and are captivated by the view. It may happen when we witness the birth of a child or the death of a friend. It may happen when we have an intimate conversation or a family meal. It may happen in church during a service or in a quiet room during prayer. But whenever and however it happens we say to ourselves: "This is it ... everything fits ... all I ever hoped for is here." . . . . This is the experience of the fullness of time. These moments are given to us so that we can remember them when God seems far away and everything appears empty and useless. These experiences are true moments of grace.

Henri Nouwen



Yellowstone  - Buffalo Ranch, Yellowstone
Institute

    

Yellowstone - Recovery from the fire of 1988



Donna

© September 18, 2010



Montana - Bozeman and Billings



Site of my meeting with Ray, Board President
Family Promise of Gallatin Valley

I have breakfast with Gloria before leaving Bozeman this morning. Bozeman is a tourist-oriented community of around 30,000 residents that serves as a gateway to Yellowstone National Park. The community describes itself as "an eclectic mix of ranchers, artists, professors, ski enthusiasts, and entrepreneurs."  (Chamber of Commerce) I am told that it is a wealthy community - quiet wealth, not ostentatious like Aspen and similar mountain, ski communities, but wealthy nonetheless. It is stated that one is more likely to see briefcases than branding irons in Bozeman. Indeed, the free daily newspaper provided at my hotel is the Wall Street Journal; restaurants serve local-grown Kobe beef; and Ted Turner has a spread just up the road. But we do not dine in one of the "upscale" establishments, rather in the quaint Western Café, located on Main St. With walls paneled in pine; red, vinyl-covered seats and stools; "heads" on the walls - including an authentic jackalope - the Western Café is a true Montana experience. Gloria chose this restaurant as my best bet for dining . . . amongst cowboys!!! Sadly, while there are many denim-covered rumps and leather boot-clad feet parked in these vinyl seats, there is not a cowboy hat to be had in the room. I’m bummed.



Western Cafe - complete with jackalope!

I travel east to Billings, in the rain and in rapidly dropping temperatures. The countryside is obscured by clouds.  I am frustrated that I cannot see the Crazy Mountains, nor the Beartooth Mountains, nor the Absaroka Mountains. Nor can I find access to the Yellowstone River, which parallels I-90. It is 41 degrees by the time I arrive at the IHN Day Center! I spend the next many hours working with Adela, the ED of IHN of Yellowstone County. Billings is the financial, medical, agricultural, and cultural center for the Northern Rockies/Great Plains. It is the largest city in Montana; however, large is relative, as the population is only around 100,000. Billings is the site of a major Conoco oil refinery as well as a sugar beet processing plant. There is a large Crow Indian Reservation south of town, the fifth largest native american reservation in the US with more than 2 million acres of land.  The IHN stays full with families from the city itself as well as the surrounding countryside, including the Reservations. Dinner this evening is eaten together with Adela and two Board members, in a much different establishment than was breakfast. We dine in the Billings Petroleum Club, located on the twenty-first floor of the Crowne Plaza Hotel, with a tremendous view of the city. Here I eat my first ever huckleberries, a Montana gourmet treat! While folks tell me that you can pick them wild from bushes outside town, this time of year one is likely to be competing for them with the bears, who are storing up for winter hibernation.

Witness

Sometimes the mountain

is hidden from me in veils

of cloud, sometimes

I am hidden from the mountain

in veils of inattention, apathy, fatigue,

when I forget or refuse to go

down to the shore or a few yards

up the road, on a clear day,

to reconfirm

that witnessing presence.

Denise Levertov

Two long but good work days, Thursday and Friday, spent with the staff and Boards of the Family Promise affiliates in Bozeman and Billings. I do love the folks I work with, good people working hard to help families with children who have found themselves without a home in which to live. What a great job I have, providing technical assistance and support to those on the front line of this work. What a great job I have that allows me to get to know communities across the United States.

I end the evening driving to the town of Red Lodge, the entrance to the Beartooth Highway, which I intend to traverse tomorrow. However, the area is fogged in, and it is 32 degrees when I arrive at my hotel. The pass may be closed due to ice. We’ll have to see what tomorrow brings.

Donna

© September 17, 2010