When I woke at 6am that first morning in Grand Teton National Park, I was bleary eyed. I had slept horribly the night before. I blame the anxiety of not wanting to miss out on the morning ranger-led hike, and, that Huckleberry Margarita I’d so festively tried the night before. I hurriedly washed my face, got dressed, and threw things in my hiking pack.
The early morning drive from my cabin to the station where the hike sets off from was lovely. Not many cars out on the roads and the morning light made everything look soft.
I was stressing about being early enough to get a token for one of the spots on the ranger led hike. Even with a little confusion of where to go, I was second in line. The hike began with a ride on a boat across Jenny Lake. I wouldn’t mid sitting out on that water a nice long time. The ranger asked us for descriptive words for the lake. Someone said clear, someone said sparkly, someone said beautiful. My word was inviting.
The hike was a pretty easy one with a really nicely maintained trail. There was a big group of us, so no bear worries. An easy pace for the mile hike up into the the next zone of habitat. This is very different than hiking in the desert around the ranch. It is much more green. And this hike has a lot of water. I’m sitting by some rushing water as I write. The sound of it is sublime. Filters out all the noise.
There are a handful of fallen trees around me. I am captivated by them. As they first fall, they balance on rocks and across the earth; still distinct and almost defiant in their death. And then they get swallowed up by the earth. They sink down into the moss and soil. If you look closely, you can almost see that magical place where the two become one. Such beauty in this circle of life.
The hike took us by Hidden Falls, which was really quite lovely. Not entirely unlike waterfalls you might see in the Blue Ridge Mountains. I sat there at the base of it for a good long while, mesmerized by how the water moves and dances down the incline. Through the wood, I spied more moving water. It wasn’t part of the river and it made me curious. I discovered that as the water pooled at the base of the waterfall, it was in such a hurry to keep on moving that it didn’t just continue in one river path but rather spilled into several rivers…creeks maybe. Each of them racing downward with gravity’s pull. Reminded me of the horses running by my cabin and down into the stables and meadow below. Wild abandon. Giving themselves over to the natural pull, the rhythm of the earth.
The ranger who led the hike couldn’t have been any more precious. (And I mean that in the most fierce, not demeaning, way.) In her young twenties, bright-eyed and fresh-faced. She very enthusiastically told us about significant bold woman after bold woman connected with the Teton range. Jenny, whom the lake is named for. A native woman who helped guide early settlers. The badass women who formed a four-woman team to climb to the top of Grand Teton. The first team with no assistance or participation by men. The fierce woman conservationist who gathered folks in her living room and planted the seed that would grow with Rockefeller’s financing to preserve massive amounts of land for public use and conservation. This young ranger was unapologetically feminist. And, I loved it.
When our group hike had finished, I asked her opinion about continuing on as a solo-hiker. She was encouraging and gave me confidence to go onward. However, I walked all the way back down to the ferry, completely missing the trail loop back around the lake that I intended to take. Only good thing about that was the opportunity to refill my water bottle. Back up I went, adding an extra mile to the trek. Found the trail branch that time and started my way around the lake loop back to the parking lot where I started. As I walked, I was thinking about how weird it is to be traveling alone after being so used to traveling as part of a pack of Coles. It isn’t bad. It is just weird.
After I had started back down from the highest point in the hike, I spied a moose down the slope of the mountain in a pond of water. I had unintentionally discovered the Moose Ponds. I ducked down beneath the branches to get a good view. She was smack in the middle of the pond, totally chilling out. Occasionally dipping her face into the water and chewing on something. She moved languidly. Two young women came upon me on their trail and I drew their attention to the moose. With their company I moved more closely to the moose. Down the slope a little, until I froze in silent awe.
All in all, I hiked six or seven-ish miles. I took the ferry across and then hiked trails back. The last mile was a push. I was tired. I found a shady place along the river to cool down and chill out a bit. Tried to put up my Eno. Failed epically. And, now have a bruised tailbone to prove it. But even after the spill I was blissed out. Beautiful view of the peaks, birds dancing above the water, the babbling sound of rushing water, and a gentle rain storm rolled in. At least I could use my Eno as a rain tent.
The rain picked up and my stomach’s rumble was matching the storm, so I headed toward Dornan’s for some of that pizza and beer that Amy recommended. It didn’t disappoint. I sat on the deck, stuffed my face, and enjoyed the sunshine and amazing view while I wrote. I took my time knowing that I didn’t have much gas in my tank for the rest of this day.
The drive back had several treats. I got to talk with Mark. I miss him. And the boys too. I stopped and took the oath to become a Junior Ranger. Hokey and silly but also pretty stinking fun.
I passed by a huge elk on the side of the road. Super cool. And I had to pull off and take some photos because of the captivating way the sun was shining down on the Tetons. It was like God was up there, reclining on those puffy clouds, shining down a flashlight beam. Stunning.
The day ends with a long hot shower, a snack, writing, and hopefully a sound and long night of sleep.
searchingforthespirit 