This post is part two of a greater, three-part blog series about my road trip. If you missed part one, read it here
If you want to learn more about the Otherwhere Blog Series and what I’m doing, catch up on the entire story here
The Drive to The Tetons
The air felt different the day of our departure from Denver. Excitement pulsed in the atmosphere and through my veins. Our next stop was my personal favorite: The Grand Tetons.
Mountains stayed far away, but visible as we ventured through Wyoming. Arid highlands made for wide expanses covered with hay fields and cattle ranches. Aside from the occasional scantily-clad windmill, irrigation set-up, and log cabin, there wasn’t much to see. Even as we drove through the more recognizable city names in Wyoming, there were no skylines or suburbs. I guess that’s about what I should expect, though, from a state with fewer than 600,000 people.
We allowed the conversation and music to take the forefront. We pointed out ranges in the far distance, subtly shrouded by wildfire smoke, and of course pointed out the massive herds of cows we often drove past.
If there was ever a reason to visit Wyoming, it’s not for the south, or even many of the north-eastern portions of the state. It’s in the Northwest, where some of the most awe-inspiring natural land in America sits.
The Tetons rest on the edge of a long plain, which only serves to magnify the way they erupt 7,000 feet out of the ground. It’s easy to forget their sheer size until they’re right in front of you. Their rocky tops are jagged like the teeth of a chainsaw, or the jaw of an animal.
The second we crossed the final mountain hiding their silhouette from view, they mesmerized me. Miles passed by in slow motion as we neared them. The forest fire smoke slowly faded away and below the haze sat rigid rocks, snowy peaks, and countless trees. The only thing more difficult than finding the best highway off-shoot to photograph was fighting the urge not to stop at all of them.
Preparing to Jump
We found our campsite at a spot called Shadow Mountain, assumedly named for the way it rests in the shadow of The Tetons. From our campsite, the jagged range stood fully in our view. We set up our tents for the first of three nights, and left to get closer to the peaks.
We made dinner out of the back of our car next to the famous Mormon Row barn. As our mac and cheese boiled over a backpacking stove, we watched the sun set over the range. Many pictures were taken and phone calls made. Most of them turned into FaceTimes as well so we could show off our dinner with a view.
The first night crept by slowly, as all first nights on the ground do for me. Wind ripped over our tent and quickly cooled the air around us. I woke up momentarily throughout the night to put my torso into my bag, then zip it even higher, and finally change out my shirt and shorts for sweatpants and a sweatshirt.
Morning eventually came, and with it, a pink glow over the mountains. As we packed up camp, we saw a grizzly mom and her cubs stumbling through the forest. A terrifying first view of wildlife, but a powerful one as well. One that made my mind swim with possibilities for the day ahead.
We ate breakfast on the ground outside the main Teton ranger station before receiving our backcountry permits.
Our plan was to complete the Paintbrush Canyon-Cascade Canyon Loop, a fairly grueling 24-mile hike through two canyons and over a 10,720-foot pass. To our surprise, a permit was available for that day, and jumped at the chance to take it.
The First Steps of the Journey
After a rushed tear-down of our tents (emphasis on rushed, as you’ll understand later) and filling up of our backpacks, we headed off down the trail. The first few miles were simple, just a little bit of elevation gain as we made our way around a lake. We stumbled across two more bears on the trail, one grizzly and one black.
We ran into the grizzly within the first mile, as a large group of day-hikers alerted us of its position. It seemed to pay us no mind, but that didn’t stop the more casual hikers from standing behind us since we were the only ones in the group with bear spray.
It’s crazy how it only takes a little bit for random strangers to trust you with their lives, and how easy it can be to seem more knowledgeable than you actually are (for real though, I don’t think I’m the one to trust in a bear encounter, but thanks to all the hikers for their vote of confidence).
Once the lake faded out of view, rocks grew larger and steps turned upward. The climb began.
After a few miles in a mountain forest, the trees finally cleared and exposed magnificently tall peaks on both sides of us.
Beauty wasn’t the only consideration, though. As we climbed elevation, our packs felt heavier and our legs more tired. The energy per step doubled, then tripled as we piled miles onto our bodies.
We stopped first at around three miles, and then again two miles later. Our stops shrunk to only one mile apart until it became impossible to travel more than a few-hundred yards before retreating under tree shade to rest our fatigued legs. Our last solace came at an alpine lake where we sat atop a boulder to eat our first proper meal on the trail (proper I guess is over-selling it, as it was just a few tortillas filled with peanut butter, trail mix, and dried fruit).
After an hour of admiring the lake and talking with a few other travelers, we packed up one last time to climb another three-quarters of a mile and 600 feet to our campsite for the night.
I pitched my tent in a bowl of peaks. We were above the snowline, though the ice fields around us contributed to a vast network of streams and waterfalls as the hot summer sun baked off their chill. I set up my hammock and settled in for our final few hours of daylight.
We stumbled around the site, exploring the various nooks and crannies of the mountains around us. It seemed our stomachs knew our camp was set. Upon sitting down, they growled and churned in anticipation for our first warm (and hopefully calorie-dense) meal of the trip.
We unloaded the bear canister and emptied out the dehydrated meals for the night. I walked back to my pack to grab all of our cooking stuff, only to discover…
I forgot the stove. Our one hope for a warm meal quickly died before my eyes as I used my very limited cellular service to look up the best way to rehydrate a meal with cold water.
If you’re wondering, it’ll work. You just need to wait a little longer. But, if your meal is mac and cheese with strings of real cheese instead of a powder, I learned the cold water doesn’t go very far. Except to slightly soften the noodles.
Needing the calories, but hating my life, I choked down as many partially cooked noodles and wet cheese as I possibly could. I had to make up calories in other ways, though, so I made sure to force-feed myself some trail mix and beer to top it all off.
Spirits couldn’t really have been lower in those moments, but a few good laughs about our situation lightened the mood as the sky grew darker. What remaining despair I felt about my tragic forgetfulness soon drifted away as the setting sun illuminated the peaks surrounding us in a golden glow. Shadows grew longer as the clouds above us burst pink for a few minutes. We finished the night looking at the world growing dark, and retired to our sleeping bags for a night of semi-restless sleep.
"I Live Here Now."
There was a theme to the hike. A catchphrase, really: “I live here now.” That sentence blew my mind every time a new view caught my eye. I reminded myself that I’d be stuck on my apartment’s couch right now if I hadn’t taken this step. I could have spent my week trapped in a cubicle, but I was exploring the mountains. I could be worried about the workweek ahead, but instead I was soaking in every second of the day.
The only source of weariness in my mind was the knowledge that this backpacking trip wouldn’t end in me revisiting the comfort of my own home, but instead a trek even further into new territory and new experiences. I was excited for it, yes, but it was also hard to swallow. I made sure to call my parents and friends often to reconnect. Each time they picked up the phone was a boon to my spirits and a greater comfort in my choices.
The first day of my backpacking trip was as difficult as it was rewarding, and that excited me. I felt free. I could feel myself healing.
