-- unknown author
The terrified cry from my wife brings my focus back to where it is needed. Helping Liz overcome her fear of heights and to traverse the final fifty yards to Inspiration Point. For some unexplained reason, the corp of engineers, who excavated this trail, chose to leave jagged rocks, some jutting to the left or right, some angled forward or back. Making matters worse, they did it at one of the narrowest parts of the trail. With no solid footing you would think a railing or rope would help assure safe passage to the top. But no, you were on your own.
Liz is looking down at her feet, one hand firmly pressed against the rocky wall. "I don't like this at all."
"You can do this Liz." I hoped my own fear wasn't evident in my voice, so I grasp her hand tighter. It is sweaty and shaking. With more exuberance than intended, I say, "You're a frickin' nurse! You save lives, so this is something I know you can do."
I realize -- taking another few steps forward -- saving lives is easier when it's not your own. And like all advice, it's much easier to give than to receive.
We continue up toward Inspiration Point.
* * *
The plane rocked as the landing gear was lowered upon arrival to Jackson Hole, Wyoming.
The China virus had forced us to change our vacation plans, when we realized that travel to Europe was out of the question. For the past twenty years, we had planned trips every five years with our good friends, Mark and LuAnn Jordan to celebrate our anniversaries. Married a few months apart in 1987, we had stayed close despite the many changes that take place as one gets older. Unlike a lot of people you meet through high school and college, we developed a lasting friendship that stuck.
LuAnn and Liz were roommates at Viterbo College in La Crosse when they both were nursing undergrads. They had grown up in nearby towns in southern Wisconsin and northern Illinois, but didn't become friends until Viterbo. In fact, it was Lu Ann who left Liz alone on her birthday in a Third Street bar called Dels, the night we met. So in some weird way, I have LuAnn to thank for meeting my wife more than thirty-five years ago.
But I digress...
Today, we are on vacation in Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks because the virus had changed our planned vacation to Europe. In anticipation of restricted travel, we decided to spend two weeks in Boston, driving up the coast of Maine and into Canada. Our final stop would be on the small Canadian province of Prince Edward Island. LuAnn, like millions of readers, was a fan of Lucy Maud Montgomery's book Anne of Green Gables which was set on the island.
But again, our plans were changed when cities like Boston closed businesses and cancelled events due to COVID. On top of that, Canada and the United States closed their northern border, which meant not getting to Prince Edward Island, which was a deal breaker.
So in a last minute Hail Mary, we decided to spend our two weeks of vacation in Yellowstone and Grand Teton national parks. Despite the virus, we could travel within the states, and unless a major forest fire swept through one of the parks, we would be good. As it turned out, large fires in California and Colorado did develop, but other than some hazy skies, we did not encounter any serious danger.
Flying in by plane gave me the first view of the Grand Tetons, a forty mile mountain range south of Yellowstone National Park. It is rumored - humorously -- that early French voyageurs named the range les trois tétons (the three nipples) after the breast-like shapes of its peaks. Much less so are the local Shoshone Indians who once called the whole range Teewinot meaning "many pinnacles. Whatever the source for its name, the stunning landscape of rock thrusting its way to an elevation over 13,000 feet from the ground was as impressive as any mountain range I'd seen.
 |
In the ten days after touching down in Jackson Hole, we explored two of the most exciting American national parks -- Yellowstone and Grand Teton -- full of natural beauty, rugged wilderness and abundant wildlife. It was my first full-strength exposure to any national park. There are almost 60 national parks in the United States, some of which Liz and I had nibbled at around the edges. Parks like Olympic National Park before we needed to catch the ferry back to Seattle, the Everglades by pontoon boat in Florida, the Badlands while traveling through South Dakota and the Smokey Mountains at night during a rainstorm.
But I had never really immersed myself like we did Yellowstone or the Grand Tetons. You needs days, not hours to enjoy everything these parks offer. And even that is not enough. We met people who had been to Yellowstone year after year, and yet they still came back to enjoy more. They line the roads to watch wildlife (usually in Lamar and Hayden Valley), arriving early morning with a thermos of coffee, a lawn chair and expensive cameras or monoculars mounted to tripods. Their goal is to watch wildlife from miles away (a couple told us they watched a young bison get brought down by a pack of wolves -- you would have thought they had seen a movie star or rock musician by how excited they were).
Like all vacations, the first day can be stressful, not knowing how to get somewhere or how long it will take to get to your destination. Eventually things get better and you become familiar with your surroundings, almost to the degree that they become a little bit like home.
As an example, for Yellowstone, I think of rising early, before sunrise, and driving on a dark, curving road on our way to Lamar Valley -- or Canyon Village, or Tower Roosevelt, it doesn't matter. But today we are on our way to the eastern quarter of Yellowstone, and the Chevy Suburban's headlights are illuminating tall pines as we cross a bridge traversing the river cutting through Madison Valley. Having driven this road a number of times since arriving in the park, I know (despite the darkness) Mount Haynes and National Park Mountain are to my right. In another hour, the sun will illuminate the tops of these mountains and the valley below where a herd of elk shelter near the river's banks. Later, traffic will be backed up because people are stopping to look at the elk and bison.
Two days ago, we heard a bull elk bugle -- a low frequency growl that progresses to a high pitched scream -- in the nearby woods while another bull elk charged across the river to chase a herd of female cows, reminding them who's in charge.
Yellowstone is unique in its combination of geysers, paint pots, wide open valleys and awesome waterfalls. Regularly, we would be waiting in traffic behind people stopped to watch bear, bison, elk, wolves and foxes. And at the end of the day, when we had had enough sulfur from visits to Mammoth Hot Springs and Old Faithful or our feet hurt from walks to Fairy Waterfalls and the Great Prismatic Spring, we would pull over and find a place to eat our chicken sandwiches and chips. Those sandwiches were some of the best sandwiches I've ever had -- perhaps it was the growl in my stomach or maybe it was the peaceful, easy feeling I got from watching the nearby bison as I ate those sandwiches sitting on a log as the sun, a big orange ball of fire, set behind the mountain range.
 |
On the day we left Yellowstone and traveled down John D Rockefeller Jr. Memorial Highway, it started to rain. It was as if God was washing the slate clean, giving room for new memories awaiting us in Grand Teton National Park.
I remember thinking as we entered the Teton Range that is seemed like fall had finally arrived. Somehow, the last five days in Yellowstone felt like summer. The crowds were higher than expected and much of the landscape reminded me of mid July weather. It's silly, but we went from the dull gray of West Thumb Geyser Basin with its early morning steam to cottonwood and aspen trees transforming into explosions of gold and orange along the Snake River. And the tall, green pines found in Yellowstone's Absarroka Mountain Range had been replaced with golden brown big leaf sagebrush blanketing the willow flats near Jackson Lake.
As we were to discover, fall is an awesome time to visit these parks. Not only for the colors but for the temperatures. Most mornings were in the low 30's (hey, not too cold for shorts) before topping out in the mid-seventies -- ideal temps for climbing mountains or hiking through the foothills full of glacial remnants, including lakes and rivers formed a million years ago.
A major part of the Tetons is Jackson Hole, located near their southern end. Jackson Hole is known for its elk antlers, the COWBOY BAR, the National Elk Refuge, a lot of pricey shops, (did I mention antlers?), downhill skiing and most importantly the celebrities who have a home nearby. Harrison Ford, Brad Pitt, Tiger Woods and Matthew Mc McConaughey are just a few of the movie stars we never saw. I don't know what we would have done if we saw one. Probably nothing since they all live at the end of a very long private drive.
Thankfully, the best thing about the Tetons is not the celebrities that call it home. It's the hiking. If I died and came back as some inanimate object, I'd like to come back as a backpack on someone's shoulders as they climb Mount Moran, Mount Owen, or one of the three Tetons. We spent two days hiking around Leigh Lake and the more popular, Jenny Lake. It was above Jenny Lake that Liz encountered her inner demons and overcame them by climbing all the way to Cascade Canyon. Not much remains of the glaciers that formed this mountain range and valley, but the views of the jagged profiles of Teewinot, Owen and Grand Teton mountains -- towering above us at over 13,700 feet -- are just spectacular.
On our last day, I drove Mark and Luann to the airport for an early departure. It was still dark when I dropped them off and headed toward John Rockefeller Jr Memorial Highway. Instead of heading back to Jackson, where Liz was probably still sleeping, I turned left and headed toward Moose Junction and Schwabacher Road. Finding a turnoff, I parked the car and looked West to where the Tetons were hidden in the pre-dusk darkness.
The sun wasn't going to rise for another 45 minutes, so I turned the radio to a classic rock station and thought about the last two weeks.
It had been a whirlwind vacation and like a lot of things, it's hard to put everything into perspective. That would take weeks, if not months to appreciate. Getting close and personal to a moose near Snake River and our condo has to be a memory that will stay with us for many years. As was watching a bison cross our path near Old Faithful. We were so close that we could hear its deep breathing as air escaped from its big lungs and nostrils. Just keep walking, don't look at it and hope for the best. Not the best defense but everyone needs a little bit of luck now and then.
Yellowstone -- with its unique geothermal features and collection of curiosities -- when paired with the beauty of the Tetons, is unparalleled. Being able to hike, bike and photograph some of it the past two weeks will stay with me no matter how many national parks I visit in the future.
As it got closer to seven o'clock, additional cars pulled in -- many loaded with coffee, tripods and cameras. Soon the sun is brushing the clouds and mountain tops in reds, oranges and purples, exposing the jagged peaks for which the mountain range is famous. Back home in La Crosse, we enjoy our beautiful bluffs that are such a big part of the Mississippi River and drift less area. Few things are as enjoyable as boating down the river with the Minnesota bluffs nearby. But they will be hard pressed to match the magnificence unfolding this morning as the sun rises on another fall day in September of 2020.
"I can't do this!" Liz repeats. She is looking down at her feet, one hand firmly pressed against the rocky wall. "I don't like this at all."
"Follow me Liz," I say. "Hang onto my hand. And take it one step at a time. We're almost there." I didn't know if that is true but it is necessary that we move forward not back. Climbers are nice enough to wait for a slightly wider spot before passing us and continuing to the top. To be honest, I'm not paying much attention to anyone else but Liz who is squeezing my hand to a pulp.
I think back to how we got here -- the climb to Inspiration Point began well enough when we got off the boat and hiked through conifer pines to our first stop, Hidden Falls. The ranger at the dock said it was half a mile from the trailhead to the falls, then another half mile to Inspiration Point. Leaving the falls, we encountered a series of rugged switchbacks up a granite knoll that plateaued at the first of two flat areas. While the climb was steep at places, it was manageable because rock steps had been built in some of the tougher spots and there was plenty of room to pass other climbers. The views of the "Cathedral Group" towering above us -- Mount Owen, Grand Teton and Tweewinot -- kept getting better and better.
The final path to Inspiration Point is before us. The rugged and narrow cut, cleared by Civilian Conservation Corps workers in the 1930s, had given Mark and Luann little difficulty, but stops Liz in her tracks.
"Oh, that's not something I can do!" I remember her saying.
Thankfully, Liz talked to a man coming down, who convinces her that she can do it. Just like Liz, he is terrified of heights, and didn't think he could do it. His wife joked that he had had the same terrified look in his eyes, but despite his fears, he had tried it. And it worked, because he had made it there and back, and was standing before her now as proof. (I may go to my grave wondering why Liz took the word of a complete stranger, but not her husband of 35 years.) Regardless, with his vote of confidence, Liz takes her first step with me by her side.
What must have seemed like a lifetime later, I say, "I see the top, Liz. It's only a few more steps."
She raises her eyes to see if I am only saying that to make her feel better. "You don't know how this feels," she says daggers flying out of her eyes.
Not true I think. I've encountered a fear of heights myself when standing on an edge and looking up. For me, looking up is the trigger. Always up. Whether my balance is affected by my bouts of vertigo or something else, it's a terrifying feeling. The sweat, anxiety, fear and shaking can be uncontrollable. And there's nothing you can do --
"We made it!" I say, looking at Liz, giving her a hug. Surprisingly, she is crying, whether from fear or relief I'm not sure. But I could not be prouder of her overcoming a huge obstacle.
"Happy Anniversary!" I say smiling from ear to ear, giving her another big hug. Today is our thirty-fifth anniversary (glad it wasn't our last) and it's likely to be one that isn't forgotten anytime soon. "Come over here and look. Tell me this climb wasn't worth it."
From this lofty perch we can see Jenny Lake stretching out, with Jackson Hole and the Gros Ventre Range to our east. The lake is mostly smooth, with what looks like a giant zipper marking the water where the shuttle has cut across.
It seems like every major lookout is called "inspiration point." There was one last week looking out over the Grand Canyon of Yellowstone. I know there are ones in Yosemite and Bryce Canyon National Parks, as well.
I step down to a flat area looking out over blue skies. I imagine the massive glacier melt that must have flowed out of the canyons above us, helping form the moraines that dammed and formed Jenny Lake. The entire Teton range including all the lakes and glacial deposits are truly an inspiration to those of us lucky enough to visit. These mountains have inspired photographers and artists, biking enthusiasts and hikers to push their boundaries, as we have on this vacation.
It is a reminder to never become settled in our ways. To always look to the horizon and hope for something better. To find the best in America and in our lives. I can't think of a better place to do that than in our national parks.
No comments:
Post a Comment