Grand Teton National Park

My mom and dad’s camping days are over, so they’d booked themselves into lodges at each of the national parks. In an effort to camp nearest to them, we were unable to reserve our Grand Teton campsites in advance. So we found ourselves some time after 11:00 AM in a line for the Colter Bay campground, hoping to snag a space. As would happen many times in the coming days, I saw Ben’s kayak-laden vehicle sail over the horizon, but was unable to catch it or find out where their campsite was.

I actually think it’s nice that some campgrounds in the national parks are first come, first served. The ones we booked in advance started filling up in January, so quickly that although Ben and I went online at almost the same time, we still were unable to book right next to one another. Of course July is high season, but normally we don’t like to do things that far in advance. In any event, there were plenty of sites at Colter Bay. There were also shower facilities, though only in the “village,” not the campground itself. They charged more than $4 for a shower—quite steep—with a bargain price for a “family shower,” up to five people. T. declared, “I am not showering with Ben, Elizabeth, and Maisie!”

One of the things about wilderness areas is that we rarely, if ever, had mobile phone service. This was slightly inconvenient before we found each other’s campsites, but after that it was a blessing. Not only for those Americans with jobs, who would rather not hear about business for the duration of their precious vacation. Being without contemporary media also meant we were surrounded by a different kind of crowd. People camping in Grand Teton and the other national parks actually wanted to be outdoors, and Maisie found other kids to play with. And if we wanted to meet up with each other, for meals and so forth, we had to make a plan and show up. Ben said it was like going back to the 1987 trip. 

In ’87 and ’97, I only remember driving through Grand Teton National Park on our way to its more famous neighbor, Yellowstone. This time, we savored the views.

Another difference from thirty years ago, here and in the other national parks, is that the glaciers have shrunk. “Who knows why?” as my sister-in-law asked sarcastically. Human stewardship of the wilderness has been, shall we say, mixed. I was impressed by how clean the parks were—hardly ever seeing trash anywhere—but in terms of recycling, they were all over the place. It’s a shock to come to America and find people, and whole states, that don’t recycle things even when they easily could. 

One thing all the parks make it very easy to do is to go without plastic water bottles—a big source of ocean pollution worldwide. It’s certainly much better to reuse than to ship recycling to China or somewhere. All the park shops sold various refillable water bottles and had pumps or fountains to refill them with cold water for free. Other than a big jug we bought initially to refill with water throughout the trip (for dishes and so on), I don’t think we bought any bottles of water. We had to buy this one because our camper van, though it had a 5-gallon fresh water tank, did not come with a hose to refill it with. We were told we could refill it at a ranger’s station, but we just didn’t use it that much.

Bison, a.k.a. North American buffalo

Besides the scenery, the main attraction of wilderness places is of course their wildlife. Herds of buffalo like this once roamed the western plains in the millions. When the buffalo was almost destroyed, so too were the Plains Indians and their ancient way of life. These are the people whose image, however stereotypical, is most often represented as “Indians” in the American imagination. There’s a good reason for this. The Plains tribes fought the longest for the retention of their lands.

Such acts of resistance before 1924 were considered terrorist attacks against the United States. Before that year, you see, American Indians were not recognized as citizens of the U.S. at all, but enemies—despite the fact that the Fourteenth Amendment to the Constitution says everyone born in the country is a citizen. Nineteen twenty-four was an important year in the history of the U.S. for another reason. Prior to that year’s Immigration Act, which restricted Jewish, Asian, and other undesirable immigration, the country’s borders had been more or less open. In other words there were no “legal/illegal” immigrants in today’s sense, just people who were lucky enough to come (and, like other immigrants, worked damn hard once they got here). I bet most proud descendants of immigrants who came before 1924 don’t know this.

But back to the scenery. After lunch we made a beeline for Jackson Lake, with a swimming “beach” just steps from our campground.

It was pretty rocky for a beach, but this did not deter us, least of all Maisie. She and T. were inseparable, even when Ben and Elizabeth took the kayak out for a spin. Lucky me, I got to sit in Maisie’s seat!

Even with lips blue from the cold water, Maisie would still have been happy to have “one last swim.” Kids have so much energy!

Our first day concluded with the first of many campfires, and S’mores. If you do not know, S’mores are a North American camping favorite, where you roast marshmallows on a stick and then squish them between graham crackers along with a slab of chocolate (usually Hershey’s). The ingredients alone restrict this treat to my native continent. T. doesn’t really get it.

We were back to ’87 in another way, besides cell phones. The campsite picnic tables also seemed to date from that time. But unlike in other countries, every campsite did have a picnic table, meaning we didn’t have to haul one around with us. Our camper van was very weather dependent in that it would have been quite cramped to have to pack the bed away and sit at the inside table, but in the event we never assembled it. We had a little rain the next morning, but fortunately Ben and Elizabeth lent us a canopy we could put over our picnic table. Out came the portable stove and T. cooked breakfast just as if the sun were shining.

As I was sitting at the table relatively early that morning, I saw a robin red-breast. Western robins are evidently larger than their eastern counterparts, and this was the biggest I’d ever seen. He hopped along for a while, paused, then pecked at the ground and drew out a long earthworm, which he ate like a piece of spaghetti before flying off. I’d never seen this “early bird gets the worm” enacted literally before. It was unfortunate for the worm, but I was glad to see the birds, too, are wild and not just begging for crumbs from humans.

Mom and Dad were on their way up from Utah that day. While they were busy driving, the five of us went on a “scenic float” on the Snake River. A guide punts a rubber raft down the river, pointing out wildlife along the way. 

Eagle

Our guide spotted a bald eagle sitting in a tree. We also saw a great blue heron and an American pelican. Further down the river, T. shouted “Bear!” It turned out not to be a bear, but a mother and baby moose (still, she spotted them first). A big bull was standing a short distance away, too.

And then the grandparents arrived at their cabin, and it would be nonstop fun for the rest of the trip. Maisie spotted a big deer bounding past the campsite. As late as 10:00 PM, the sun was still fading from the valley, and we could see Jupiter and Venus among the stars.

Jackson Lake at dusk

Just as we liked to play in the back of our grandparents’ truck when they used to come to Tennessee (it was an improvised camper), Maisie enjoyed playing in our van. When we ate at her place, as we all did the second evening, she wanted to walk me back to my campsite. She said she wanted me to stay with them, though I suspect she wanted to visit our van again!

The next day T. took a break from the wilderness, not to say the Knowleses, at Jackson Lake Lodge, an upscale resort five miles down the road. It had a bar with a TV, and she was watching England in a semifinal of the World Cup. For those keeping score, the England team had previously won in a penalty shootout (watched by us in Beatty, Nevada) and then won its quarterfinal (watched by T., Kenzie, and me before we left Phoenix). It was the best performance I, at least, had ever seen from England at a World Cup.

The rest of us took a shuttle boat across Jenny Lake, where my dad’s T-shirt elicited interest from a father and son who turned out to live on the same road I grew up on. This is quite a coincidence, as there aren’t too many people who live on that road in the first place. (Later that same afternoon, spying two men wearing Tennessee and Alabama T-shirts respectively, my dad said hello and he hoped these rivals could still be friends. “I like him although he’s wrong,” the Tennessee fan said wisely.)

The shuttle docks at the base of Mt. Teewinot, the Shoshone-named sixth-highest peak in the Teton Range. Hidden Falls was closed, as there had been a rockslide just days before. But we took the trail as far as we could anyway. The views of Cascade Creek were pretty nice in themselves—and that was just my fellow hikers!

Photo: Jack Knowles

Photo: Jack Knowles

As we were returning on the path, a chipmunk came running by with something very large in her mouth. I didn’t know what it was until she set it down—it turned out to be her baby, which she was carrying like a cat does its kitten! You are supposed to stay at least 25 yards from every animal in the parks (100 in the case of predators), but I don’t know how we’re meant to observe this distance in the case of chipmunks.

Another companion of our hike was this painted lady butterfly. She rode my daypack most of the afternoon, pausing first on my London 2012 rain jacket (rolled up most of the trip), then on one flag patch after another. It was a vicarious journey for her.

Photo: Ben Knowles

Maisie wanted to step down to a swiftly flowing section of Cascade Creek, but Ben said it was too steep for her. So when we came to a more gentle stream crossing the trail, Elizabeth said Maisie could wade in that. It had been a while since she “just relaxed,” Maisie said! For the record, it’s the coldest water I’ve ever been in.

The kids wanted to go kayaking, so Mom, Dad, and I took a drive up to the summit of Signal Mountain.

I should point out here that while they were stuck behind a driver whose RV was too big for him (RVers are a different breed entirely), Ben, Elizabeth, and Maisie got great views of a grizzly bear foraging just outside our campground. (Foraging wildly, I will add, not for garbage.) This was the first of a succession of bears they would spot and T. was pretty envious.  I’d only ever seen a black bear myself, in Wyoming 31 years ago. But who cares? Near Mom and Dad’s cabin, we saw a fox.

One of the pleasures of these two weeks was that different groups of people were able to enjoy different levels of activity together. Indeed, apart from meals I’m not sure all seven of us were together until one day in Montana. Our third day in Grand Teton, Ben, Elizabeth, and I hiked almost ten miles on the Lupine Meadows Trail, while the others enjoyed the park in a more leisurely way. Lupine, we assured Mom, refers to the flowers along the mountainside, not wolves.

It was like this almost the whole way up, except the first bit which was woodsy meadows. There was a grizzly bear mother and cubs in this area, but we didn’t see them. We did see magnificent views of the Grand Teton, though.

Incidentally, Tetons was the name French explorers gave the mountains, and it’s slang for breasts. I don't think so either.

The weather was amazing for hiking. The climb was relentless, but gradual, mostly in the form of switchbacks. I had treated myself to a $20 wooden walking stick that unscrews into sections, since my expensive trekking poles let us down in South Africa. As it happened, the descent was not tough on my knees either.

Bradley Lake, foreground, and Taggart Lake

Photo: Ben Knowles

Our goal was Surprise Lake, an alpine lake reached shortly after we started to see snow on the ground. Surprise indeed, as it was still warm enough that we were in short sleeves and wanted to cool off with the lake water. I was so glad to get there that I tried to make a snow angel.

While Elizabeth “relaxed,” as Maisie would say, Ben and I pressed on a short distance to Amphitheater Lake.

We did see a yellow-bellied marmot on this hike (pointed out to us in its hiding place by another hiker), as well as a white-tailed deer with a lovely set of antlers (spotted by Elizabeth) and, at the trailhead, pronghorn antelope, including babies.

In the parking lot we started talking to a hiker from Louisville, Kentucky, who had flag patches on his backpack too. Not as many as mine, but one of them was Canada, so that was in his favor. He had emerged at the wrong trailhead (easy to do if you miss the sign for Bradley/Taggart Lakes) and, as we didn’t have the car seat, we were able to give him a ride back to his vehicle. He was the kind of person who is genuinely interested to hear that I’m traveling the world.

Surprise Lake

On our last evening in the park, we stopped at Oxbow Bend at dusk. The only wildlife we saw was more birds, but we did see a perfect reflection of Mt. Moran.

I’d always wanted to get back to Grand Teton. My memory of Wyoming, from my first visit at the age of fourteen, was that it was the only state that rivaled my own for beauty. At that time I had never been to another country, so my perspective would be different now. But the Teton Range is still up there among the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen.