Traipsing Through the Tetons

Okay, I admit it. I wasn't paying attention. Or, rather, I wasn't paying attention to the appropriate things. I was sort of focused on the lovely day and the names of wildflowers and the miles I'd already walked and the amount of water I had consumed out of my convenient Camelback and, oh, wasn't that a handy clump of trees? I didn't remember that I was in the wilderness with the potential for encounters with furry beasties. I plowed obliviously ahead.

Until I heard a scrambling noise. I was in Grand Teton National Park. I'd seen plenty of signs advising awareness and caution due to bears in the area. I was even carrying a Bear Vault in which to keep all my food. I'd already seen a bear on a trail earlier this summer. But I still goofed.

I flushed a cub up a tree. It was pretty close to where I was standing, and my first thought was, "Oh, no." I've always understood the most dangerous bear scenario to be irritating a female bear with cubs. And there's no way that cub was out here alone.

My adrenaline took over, and I spun around and almost ran back to the trail, but even as I changed direction, I remembered that I wasn't supposed to run. Different parts of my brain were vying for control. The Medulla oblongata was shrieking "FLEE!" and causing my heart to pound, while my Cerebrum ran through all the things I'd ever read in those "what to do in a bear encounter" pamphlets. That's when I saw Mama bear, pretty close to me and staring. My focus was pretty acute, so I noticed three things right away. 1. I wasn't between her and the cub. 2. She was a black bear, not a grizzly. 3. She didn't seem particularly angry or upset.

I did this really graceful side step, trying to put more trees in between us and reach my hiking party for safety in numbers. My Cerebellum caused me to scratch up my arm a bit on some branches, but thanks to the Medulla, I didn't feel it. My Cerebrum prompted me to sound the alarm, so I called, "Bear, Bear, Baby Bear!" My main man soon had my back, with bear spray handy, and my parents weren't far behind. Once the four of us were together, I knew it wasn't as dangerous of a situation. Despite my quick heart rate and a bit of shakiness in my hands, I was able to snap this photo proof of the scaredy cub, but for better pictures I guess I should invest in a camera that can really zoom.

As we backed down the trail, waiting to see which direction the bears would go, two more cubs ran across the trail! Once the family was reunited a little ways off the trail, we left them alone and continued on our way, pretty stoked about the sighting (and, naturally, relieved that I hadn't enraged the adult bear). I talked to a ranger further down the trail who said that the bears had been hanging out there all summer, so I think Mama bear was fairly used to people going by on the trail and didn't feel too threatened. It just shows how often we probably hike right by wild animals without even knowing it. If I hadn't blundered off the trail causing that one cub to flee up the tree, the four of us humans would probably have walked right by the four bruins with no idea that they were just hidden in the brush.

So, due to that excitement, my main man and I sang the "Bear Aware" song for the rest of the trip. It goes like this: "Be Bear A-ware". Then you make up your own verses, generally various permutations of asking the bear not to be angry and not to maul you but to just go about eating its berries and honey and other lovely non-human things. We didn't see any more bears.

We did, however, have a great backpacking trip up the Teton Crest Trail. It was the only one I had time for this summer, and it was certainly a good choice. My dad had been talking about doing this hike for years, and the Tetons are sort of halfway between my parents' home in Montana and mine in Laramie, so we decided to meet up there.

We started at the Teton Village and took the tramway up the mountain, which was kind of cheating, but did let us start the hike at a wonderfully high elevation. My parents claimed to be a bit concerned about a long backpacking trip, because they are getting up there a bit, but I think they were faking. They did great with all the mileage and elevation changes and carrying heavy packs, and the only sign of a senior moment was when my mom started arguing with a tree near our campsite the first night. I'm not sure of the subject of contention, but the tree wouldn't budge.

The second day was long, but absolutely gorgeous. I think we hiked about thirteen miles up and down, in and out of the national park and wilderness areas. We had perfect, warm weather, and the flowers were at their peak. The colors were fantastic. I have trouble picking my favorite flowers, but the purple lupine seen here in front of Fossil Mountain is high on the list, and there were fields and fields of it.

We passed lots of interesting rock formations and mountains on our way to the Teton peaks. Some, like Spearhead Peak below, provided a landscape unlike anything I would have expected in Northwest Wyoming.


The absolute highlight of the trip was climbing up to Hurricane Pass, just to the west of the three Tetons. As we hiked higher, we could catch glimpses of the peaks peeking over the ridges, but once we hit the high point of the pass, wham, there they were.


The sky was blue and there was no one around. It was a huge payoff. And from there, it was all downhill. There I go, continuing north into the mountains. At times like these, I just feel like I could walk forever, even though I obviously can't. My feet were getting tired, I was pretty much done with carrying my large pack, and I really wanted my dins.


The campsite that night was perfect. We slept just in the shadow of Grand Teton near a little stream. I took off my boots--the same boots that trekked across Wales; they are accumulating some mileage--and refreshed my feet in the cold water. It was quiet and peaceful, and the only nearby creature, besides some inevitable mosquitoes, was a passing mule deer doe. Sunset on the peaks was an extra treat.

The last day consisted of a hike out Cascade Canyon, which was a lovely trail. It couldn't quite compete with the solitude and majesty of the alpine sections, but the creek was very pretty and I found another new bunch of wildflowers to photograph.

It was still peaceful up until a few miles from the end of the trail, where it started to get quite crowded with national park day hikers and sightseers. That usually happens in the few miles nearest to the trailheads. So we booked it out of there, looking forward to a trip to the Mangy Moose before the long drive home.


As I walked around the southern shore of Jenny Lake, I was feeling pretty tired, but it was a good tired. Dad's definitely got the go-ahead to pick another trip next summer.