It had been cold in Utah, but holy bejezuz... It kept getting colder. By the time I got to Jackson, it was 15 degrees and there were probably already two or three feet of snow. Having just a week earlier been riding by bike through sunny, warm Moab, this was a bit of a shocker. And the town itself was preparing for the transition of going from really dull to becoming winter adventure land. I had planned on visiting the Tetons again and drove through the town to the park, but the progress of winter was surprising and it turned out that most of the park was already closed to vehicles.
The last time I had been there was 11 years ago, and it was way warmer. My family and I had driven there from Yellowstone, so I never saw the town of Jackson, or if I did I don't remember it, and apparently I missed the whole go to Jackson to kill elk and buffalo memo. As I drove into the park and beheld the sawtooth outline of the Tetons, I noticed a lot of dudes dressed in orange. The national elk reserve is just south of the park, and they were all sitting in trucks with binoculars staring into the fields. It was so un-park like, I thought for a second I was in the wrong place. I figured they must let people hunt some of the elk each year, which isn't horrible I guess, but viewing the situation from a sight-seeing park-goer's perspective, and therefore with the expectation of entering a hunt-free/animals do your thang area, it was super weird and wafted the essence of a Bambi nightmare. So I drove on.
At the ranger station, I looked around for maps of the trails and information about camping. I had looked online and there was one camping area open for the winter that I wanted to check out. At the station, however, there was a notice saying that all the campgrounds were closed. I inquired at the front desk only to have the following conversation:
"So, I read online that the other visitor's center parking lot was open for winter camping."
"Yes, it is."
"So then, its open?"
"Oh, no. Its closed right now."
"Uhh... why?"
"It's only open for winter camping."
"..... ..... Its not winter?"
"Well, it will be open once we get more snow. But you can camp in the back country."
"Once you get more snow?"
"Yep."
"OK... thanks..."
Thoroughly confused. Walking away. Boots squeaking.
I would have gone back-country camping if I had had the right gear and wasn't by myself. It was getting dark, so I decided to explore what I could before finding a cheap room. I drove out the road that leads to Jenny Lake until I reached the closed section. The sun was setting and the mountains looked epic.
Good ole' Motel 6 was near, and I found a room to crash in. In hindsight, I'm actually totally OK with having not camped out that night, because the next morning it was -10 degrees. I had to let my car warm up for half an hour. When I went to get coffee at the front desk, but the time I got back to my room it was cold. So, yeah, not camping was completely agreeable. Plus, I met a man from Switzerland while I was getting coffee, and he told me all about how he was driving to see his son in California who was a cyclist, and about how the two of them had once ridden through the Himalayas. I have no idea if he was sane, but it was an awesome conversation.
It was a gorgeous day, in spite of the frigid air. I decided to drive up the road and see if I could do a short hike and also to see if I would recognize anything from 11 years ago. I drove the snowy road out to the north end of Jenny Lake. The whole time I was thinking, come on, show me some buffalo! I really really really wanted to see one, or any other wildlife. I passed at least a dozen "Caution, Large Wildlife" signs and tons of footprints, which only built up my hopes. But no buffalo.
Once I arrived at the parking lot of the Colter Bay Visitor's Center and had put on my snow gear, I realized that any hiking might be impossible, for though I was motivated, I did not have snowshoes. I know I have big feet, but even they couldn't do the job. I trudged knee deep through the snow towards the shore of the bay. The snow was light and fluffy, but it still wasn't easy.
As I neared of the docks, I realized it did recognize the place! The last time I had been there was fall, and our family was walking the shoreline of Jenny lake. The water was deep blue/green, and my sister and I were wading in the water looking at the rocks. For some reason the lake was really low, and in that particular bay all the boats were tipped over on their keels. It looked like the mountains had sucked all the water up out of their bathtub and were hoarding it as snow and glaciers on their peaks. I walked across the frozen surface of the bay looking at the glittering, untouched snow and felt remote in comparison to my younger self in that place. Nothing moved, and the air was frozen and still.
To be honest, I was beginning to feel a bit lonely. I think there comes a point where seeing great places becomes even better when you have someone to experience them with besides the air molecules. The combination of the cold and the silence was exquisite, but the quiet started to feel a bit empty. Realizing my options for activities were kind of limited, and looking forward to seeing family in Montana, I decided to head to Bozeman a day early. But it was a fantastic day, bright and clear, probably one of the best to see those mountains. And I did end up seeing two coyotes walking along the frozen river and two large moose rutting in a field. So I said goodbye, and hit the road.
The way I was heading north was pretty cool. The road went up up up and over the southern part of the Tetons. I had the petal to the floor and my car was maybe pushing 35mph. The downhill was a long coast at 10% grade and I passed skiers who had been hiking the ridges. The surrounding hills were laced with ski tracks. From the other side, I got a good looks at the Teton's booty. Dang she had a nice backside!
I continued north and at one point chose to follow a Subaru that had Montana license plates because my GPS wanted to take me on the main road which seemed to go way out of the way. I ended up on a straight shot to the valley leading to Bozeman; the infamous route 191. This road is super twisty and is well know for frequent accidents, poor conditions, and flooding. Interestingly enough, despite the risks, Montana didn't used to have a speed limit, instead the signs read "reasonable & prudent", which I think is hilariously polite. After speed limits were instated, the number of car accidents in the state doubled.
The road wound through the valley of a rushing river walled by towering yellow rocks. The road crossed through a bit of Yellowstone National Park, and I observed that it is indeed aptly named. Again no buffalo were sighted. I did pass a really weird lake that had dead trees sprouting out of the water. It looked like the lake has been there a while, so I have no idea what as up with the trees.
When I finally reached the other side, the lights of a city greeted me. Civilization had burst out of nowhere. I found my way through the college town suburbs, and pulled into a culdesac where I was greeted by a stampede of kids headed by my two cousins Katie and Reugen. I pulled into the driveway, put'her in first, yanked the e-break, turned off the engine, and let out a big sigh...
