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.

Take Time to Find the Frogs

Some old friends recently came to visit from Portland, Oregon. I showed them my 'must-see' sites for this part of the country, which includes the Lakes trail in the Snowies and the T. Rex statue on the University campus. And pronghorn, of course.

We then spent one afternoon up at Vedauwoo, where the rock formations never fail to impress. Every time I hike there, I feel compelled to take a picture of this particular stair-step block. I find it so interesting to look at in all the different lights, depending on season and time of day, and I like how the middle area resembles the profile of a man wearing a nightcap.

While walking the Turtle Rock trail, we decided to take a short spur to a beaver pond. I've never seen any beaver, but there are certainly enough dams, ponds and lodges to indicate their presence. One time, when I was hiking in the Zirkels, the busy rodents had completely flooded part of the trail, but I still didn't catch any sight of them. I guess they're usually asleep during the day.

There didn't seem to be any freshly-chewed trees nearby, but it was still worth a look. The pond was quiet. I gave up on seeing any beaver, and looked down at the water near my feet. I saw a green frog, lounging in the water. Then I saw three more, then five. The little guys were all over the place!

My friends and I found a big rock and crouched down to get a better look, while Johnny Bamamfa tried to sneak up on some to get some close-up photos. He also took pictures of us frog-watching. Some frogs were floating in the pond, some were sitting in the mud; they were all green with spots.

I even saw a few frogs that still had tadpole tails! These are apparently called metamorph frogs while they are in and that in-between stage, but I can't remember ever seeing ones like that before. I thought it was pretty neat.

A few other people came by the pond, perhaps to see what we were looking at, and one lady called these critters Northern Leopard Frogs. I looked them up, and they do seem to match the photos and description. The website said they used to be a common frog in high school dissections, but thankfully, I never had to dissect a frog. Just a fetal pig. Which still kinda bothers me.

But anyway, the frogs were very cool to see, and were a part of nature that could be easily overlooked if you just hurried through a place. I've found that the more I slow down and look at the flowers and take pictures and examine my surroundings, the more I can appreciate.

So from frogs, I moved on to take pictures of my friends climbing on the rocks. I snapped some more August wildflowers. I got some butterflies enjoying the thistle. It was a warm, sunny day and we saw pronghorn on the drive home.

The Devil's Causeway

My atlas shows a Point of Interest just south of Steamboat Springs, Colorado. These sites are marked with little red squares and matching text and often lead to interesting road trips. I have heeded the call of many other of these labeled sights, including Independence Rock in Wyoming and Scott's Bluff in Nebraska, so this was worth looking into. The name "Devil's Causeway" had promise, too.

Internet research revealed the Devil's Causeway to be a trail in the Flat Tops Wilderness that narrows to three feet wide with drops of anywhere from a few hundred to a thousand feet on both sides (depending on how scared the estimator was, I guess). Some bloggers reported crossing the bouldery bridge on their hands and knees and kissing the ground on the other side. This sounded like something I had to see.

The Flat Tops Wilderness is the second largest wilderness area in Colorado, so that also seemed worth a trip. I often hike in the Rawah or Mt. Zirkel Wildernesses and find those areas beautiful and generally not too crowded. It was time to explore a little further south.

I bought a topo map and headed out with my favorite hiking partner. The drive took over three hours, since the road west of Yampa turned gravelly and rough, so the day was already warm by the time we got started. There were numerous reservoirs in the area, so there were plenty of cars and campers on the drive, but we only encountered a few other parties of hikers in our first few hours of walking.

We started climbing pretty quickly through some pretty wildflowers and soon came to a viewpoint where we could see our route. The famed causeway lies somewhere along that escarpment. We expected to reach it in a little over 3 miles, bravely cross it, and continue along the plateau before dropping back down into the valley for a 10 mile or so loop.

On the way up, which was hot and more mosquito-filled than I expected for the dryness of the terrain, we passed this skull in a marmoty, rocky area. I think it might be an elk skull. I think someone placed it nicely right by the trail to allow for photographs. I don't think the marmots did it.
I wonder if it was meant as a warning, like pirate's flags. Death to all ye who enter here. I often find bones while hiking, like vertabrae or leg bones or the occasional pelvis. I don't often see skulls, but at least it wasn't human.

So, after a bit of a climb, we reached the top of the escarpment. The trail was very clear and maintained, even though it wasn't completed on my topo map. On one website I read that it may not be included on maps because of the danger. Another great web resource (http://www.summitpost.org/) insisted (in all-capitalized red letters no less) that the crossing should be attempted only in "absolutely dry conditions". The day was dry, with blue skies and only a little breeze. More wind would likely have saved me a few mosquito bites, but might have also knocked me off the cliff, so I won't complain.

As we approached the east side of the causeway, we met a couple with a small beagle. They told us that they were turning around because the dog refused to cross it. Hmm.

The causeway looked like it had two fairly narrow bits with a wider section in the middle. I carefully crossed the first bit, thankful that I had my hiking pole for stability. The boulders gave a weird sensation: because all the rocks were a sort of reddish-grey, the trail blended in with the rock falling away on both sides. It brought to mind the climactic scene from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, where poor Indy has to take a leap of faith over a canyon in order to reach the Holy Grail. I guess my faith was weak, because my legs did get a little wobbly.

Both my legs and the causeway held, though, and the experience was really cool. Usually hights don't bother me at all, but I think the hype had made me nervous, and, because I was going so slowly and carefully it did seem a bit intimidating. Don't they usually say, "Don't look down!"? Well, I wasn't going to miss the view.

We both made it safely across, and there really wasn't any time when we felt in danger. There weren't even any loose rocks (thankfully). It was a unique trail that was worth the trip to at least see it once. The view of the causeway from the west was even more striking.

After those cliffs of death, the rest of the hike seemed less than exciting. The scenery was very pretty as we hiked a very wide plateau, but lacking in any adrenaline rushes. What we needed was a good bear or cougar encounter, but it was not to be. There's my main man wandering off through the willows towards some other cliffs, in search of some kind of further adventure.

It was hard to believe that the pleasant subalpine meadows we hiked through were on top of 11,000 feet cliffs. Flat Tops Wilderness was well-named, and turned out to be a popular destination for backpacking and fishing. As we decended down into the valley and neared the trailhead, we started to encounter many more people. I'm glad they all hadn't decided to come up to the Causeway with us; it would have lost a lot of its magic if you had to cross it in a queue.