Episode 43 | Grand Teton National Park & Jackson Hole, WY
Fifty degrees, third cup of coffee, and a view of the Tetons through the trees. There are mornings that feel like they’re trying to tell you something. This was one of them.
The plan for the day was loose, which is usually when the best things happen. Our daughter Becca was flying in from New York that evening, a few hours late due to travel hiccups, but on her way. That gave Denise and me the better part of a day to wander.
We started at the Colter Bay Visitor Center, which has one of those views that stops you mid-sentence. The Grand Tetons just sitting there behind a stand of pine trees, massive and indifferent to the fact that you drove 2,000 miles to look at them. I stood there trying to remember which peak was which and mostly just gave up and took pictures instead.
A quick stop at the General Store followed, where we spent what felt like an embarrassing amount of money on huckleberry chocolate and gifts. This is a known hazard of National Park gift shops. You go in for a postcard and come out having funded a small wing of the operation.
Signal Mountain
From Colter Bay we headed up to Signal Mountain, which involved a winding scenic road that Denise was not entirely comfortable with, given that I was driving. The name traces back to Native American use of the peak’s height for long-distance smoke signal communication, and later as a lookout during early settlement days. Standing at the summit, you understand immediately why they picked it.
The view from the top is one of those moments where the word “vast” finally earns its meaning. To the west, sweeping views of the Teton Range and Jackson Lake. To the east, the surrounding valleys stretching out toward the horizon. It was a crystal clear day, the kind photographers spend their whole trip hoping for and don’t always get. The wind was another story entirely. I eventually gave up trying to record audio and let the scenery do the talking.
On the way back down we stopped at Willow Flats Overlook, which turned out to be one of the better pulloffs I’ve found anywhere. Most overlooks are just a guardrail and a view. This one had trails that wound down into the sagebrush, and the smell of sage on a warm afternoon is one of those sensory details that stays with you long after the photos fade. Denise was composing shots with wildflowers in the foreground and frankly giving me a run for my money with the iPhone.
Lunch was a peach, which I cut with a credit card because we were not exactly prepared. You improvise out there.
The Fire
At some point during the drive, we noticed a massive plume of smoke rising over the ridge. What we were looking at was the Fish Creek Fire, started by lightning in a remote area about seven miles southwest of Togwotee Pass. It burned around 3,200 acres. Fire-adapted ecosystems like those in the Rockies depend on periodic burns to maintain healthy forest dynamics, which is true and worth knowing. But when you’re standing there watching it, the science doesn’t make it any less unsettling.
What made it more personal was finding out later that Becca’s flight had come through that smoke on the way in. She didn’t mention it until she landed. That’s her, generally.
The Airport
Jackson Hole Airport might be the most cinematic arrival experience in the country. The planes land in the valley with the Tetons as a backdrop, and there’s a viewing area where you can watch them come in. We stood there waiting for Becca’s plane, and I sent her a video of it touching down before she even knew we were watching.
She walked out of the gate and looked exactly like herself, which is to say a little bit like my kid and mostly like her own person, all grown up. That part gets me every time.
Then somebody turned around and looked back toward the mountains, and the sky had gone completely off the rails. An explosion of orange and violet above the Teton silhouette, the kind of sunset that makes you feel like the whole day was building toward it. Becca, who had just stepped off a plane that flew through a wildfire, looked at it and said something along the lines of holy crap. Which was accurate.
We ended the evening at a restaurant called The Blue Lion in Jackson, where the trout was, by unanimous agreement, the best any of us had ever had. Becca asked how many of these episodes I was planning to make. I told her probably more than anyone expected. She said I needed to start editing more ruthlessly. She’s not wrong.
The whole crew together now. On to Yellowstone.
