Grand Teton National Park: The Day I Accidentally

Yesterday was a big day: I got wheels again.

The Riverton transportation authority was able to arrange a shuttle to the nearest larger city, about two hours away, where I had reserved a rental car. They dropped me at the airport, the rental agency picked me up, and after a mountain of paperwork I was finally back on the road.

I was far more nervous than I expected to be.

I wasn't driving at dusk, but I was definitely getting closer to it than I would have liked, especially after stopping for an early dinner of Rocky mountain oysters and a burger; and after hitting a deer a few days ago I discovered that my confidence behind the wheel isn't quite what it was before. The entire drive back to Riverton had a weird undercurrent of anxiety running through it. Every shadow looked suspicious. Every movement near the road caught my attention.

Fortunately, I made it back safely, parked next to my wounded camper van, and called it a night.

This morning I got cleaned up, did my normal routine, and went into Walmart to speak with the manager. Since I finally had transportation again, I wanted to do a little exploring, but I also didn't want my damaged van getting towed while I was gone.

The manager was incredibly kind.

She told me they have people leave vehicles there for months at a time and that as long as it was parked properly and not causing problems, it would be fine. She did, however, recommend that I not advertise the fact that I'd be leaving it overnight. The Walmart sits on the reservation, and the area struggles with significant poverty and addiction issues. It's honestly a sad situation more than anything else.

So before leaving, I packed anything remotely valuable into the rental car, tucked everything else away, and made sure there was nothing visible through the windows.

Then I finally set off for Grand Teton National Park.

Grand Teton was supposed to be my next stop before my little deer-related itinerary adjustment.

The drive took almost three hours thanks to road construction, but eventually I made it into the park.

Normally when I arrive somewhere new, I drive the scenic loop first. I like getting the lay of the land before deciding where to spend my time.

Apparently after several days of staring at the same Walmart parking lot, I had absolutely no interest in doing that.

I wanted to move.

A ranger recommended hiking from the Lupine Meadows Trailhead, connecting through Moose Ponds and Jenny Lake, continuing to Hidden Falls, and then on to Inspiration Point. He estimated the hike would be around four miles round trip.

Perfect, I thought.

Four miles is right in my comfort zone.

This story would be a lot shorter if that had remained true.

The hike started beautifully beneath the Tetons, with views of the mountains towering overhead. At Moose Ponds I spotted a side trail leading to the water and decided to take a quick detour.

I reached the pond, enjoyed the view for a minute, and noticed another trail continuing onward.

"Great," I thought. "This probably reconnects with the main trail."

It did not.

Instead, I rounded a corner and nearly walked directly into the rear end of a moose.

At first I couldn't even figure out what I was looking at.

A donkey?

A wild horse?

Why is there a donkey in Grand Teton?

In my defense, the viewing angle was terrible.

Eventually it moved enough for me to get a better look, and I quickly realized two things:

First, it was definitely a moose.

Second, there were two of them.

Mom and baby.

At that point my brain switched from curiosity to survival mode.

I was already closer than recommended. A mother moose with a calf is not the sort of creature you want to accidentally surprise. I backed away and started creating distance immediately.

A hiker came along and asked if I'd seen them.

"Yep," I told him. "They're right over there. Be careful. It's a mom and baby."

He assured me he wasn't planning on getting any closer, which was comforting because one of us should probably be making good decisions.

Eventually I found my way back to the main trail and continued toward Jenny Lake.

Along the way I encountered a stream crossing and immediately had flashbacks to that hike last week where I spent half the day crossing water.

I saw the stream and thought, "Absolutely not. I am not taking my shoes off again."

Fortunately some kind soul had built a little bridge, sparing me from yet another unintended aquatic adventure.

Jenny Lake itself was stunning.

The water was crystal clear and absolutely freezing. One touch was enough to confirm that it was being fed directly by snowmelt from the mountains.

From there I followed the shoreline toward Hidden Falls.

And then another waterfall.

And then eventually Inspiration Point.

By this point I was already well beyond the halfway mark the ranger had described.

I considered turning around.

Several times.

But after hiking that far, there was no chance I was going to quit before reaching the viewpoint.

Then the climb started.

And kept starting.

Every corner looked like it should be the top.

None of them were.

I would reach a bend and think, "This has to be it."

It wasn't.

Another climb.

Another switchback.

Another corner.

At one point I found myself wondering exactly what kind of inspiration awaited me at the top because the only inspiration I was feeling at the moment was inspiration to throw myself over the edge rather than take one more step up.

My legs were shaking.

The trail was narrow.

People were squeezing past each other in both directions.

The drop-offs beside the trail were substantial enough that I learned very quickly not to look over the edge while walking because doing so made me instantly dizzy.

I don't even have a fear of heights.

Maybe it was exhaustion.

Maybe it was elevation.

Maybe it was the wind.

Whatever it was, my brain decided that looking over the edge was no longer part of the program.

Eventually, after what felt like an unreasonable amount of uphill walking, I made it.

And it was worth every step.

The view from Inspiration Point was absolutely incredible.

Cold.

Windy.

And completely breathtaking.

When I finally checked my mileage, I discovered I had already hiked three and a half miles just to reach the viewpoint.

The ranger's "four mile round trip" estimate had apparently become "four miles if you accidentally take every possible scenic detour."

I still had to get back to my car.

Fortunately the return hike was easier, although I definitely picked up the pace.

Not because I was eager.

Because I had absolutely no intention of driving after dark.

Not after the deer.

Not even a little.

Today I already had to avoid bison standing in the road. That was enough wildlife-related driving excitement for one day.

So I hurried back, found a dispersed campsite in the national forest, and arrived with plenty of daylight remaining.

Now I'm sitting here watching the sun drop behind the mountains.

My hike ended up covering nearly eight miles with about 1,250 feet of elevation gain, topping out around 7,300 feet.

Not bad for a hike that was supposed to be four miles.

Tonight I'll be sleeping in the back of a very small rental car instead of my cozy camper van.

I've got a warm sleeping bag, a sweater, and what I can only describe as cautious optimism.

We'll see whether that's enough.

If not, tomorrow's post may simply read:

"Your boy survived Grand Teton but was defeated by a compact sedan."Read more