The Tetons

Yesterday Hilary and I borrowed a car and drove down to the spectacular Grand Teton National Park - our neighbor to the immediate south.

GTNP features the Teton Range, more impressive than any mountains in Yellowstone.  The Rockies are taller and rougher than the Appalachian Mountains because they are younger and have experienced less erosion; as the youngest subrange of the Rocky Mountains, the Tetons are especially tall and pointy.  Moreover, they lack foothills, abruptly rising more than 5000 feet out of the flat Jackson Hole valley.  The park is named for the highest peak - the Grand Teton - rising over 7000 feet out of Jackson Hole to elevation 13,770 feet.

We walked around and ate dinner in Jackson, WY - just south of the park - and enjoyed the town.

Also, we have spent all summer in Yellowstone without seeing a moose, an animal that allegedly lives here.  According to hearsay, most of the moose left during the big fires of 1988 and many now reside near the Tetons.  Sure enough, Hilary and I saw a cow and her calf during our trip.

Ponds, Peaks, and Pickles

I went on two day hikes this past weekend. On Thursday, Hilary and I did the Beaver Ponds trail in the Mammoth area.  The scenery and wildflowers were pretty, and halfway through the loop we encountered a series of ponds (shown) formed by beaver dams.

On Saturday before work, I climbed Avalanche Peak with two Michiganders.  The trail was a mere two miles each way, but felt like more with its 2000 ft. elevation gain.  The peak, sitting in the middle of the Absaroka Range, offered a great view of surrounding mountains, the Tetons, and Yellowstone Lake.

About a week ago, Hilary was serving the "Lodge Favorites" station when a boy walked up and asked for a hamburger in a distinctly French accent.  Worried he would not understand her, she asked very slowly, "Would you like lettuce, tomatoes, onions, or pickles with that?"  Not following her, after a pause and a slight furrow of the brows, he simply replied, "I am French."

The Confluence

This past weekend, the 16^th and 17^th of July, James and I decided to brave the outdoors once more and take a hike through the beautiful Roosevelt area to Hellroaring Creek.  While I was in the backcountry office to obtain a permit for the confluence of the Yellowstone River and Hellroaring Creek the ranger repeatedly advised me to take the bridge to cross the river instead of fording it because of “high waters” or something like that.  Traveling to the bridge would tack on an extra 3 (plus or minus .2) miles, but such is the price for safety.

We left the dorms at around 10:45 in the AM, and had immediate good fortune when a family from California picked us up after only about 5 minutes of waiting.  They dropped us off near our destination, at which point we caught a ride from a Roosevelt employee to our trailhead.  Our next adventure then began.

It began very well with some immediate downhill traveling.  It was hotter than we were used to here in Yellowstone, likely much cooler than Texas, but that was compensated by the beauty all around us.  We began by making good time even though we had to stop for more water breaks than in the past.  The time started moving more slowly as our destination became farther and farther away (remember that out-of-the-way bridge?)  We made it to our “secluded” campsite out in the middle of the backcountry, only to find out that right across the river were two fishermen who really liked staring at us as we ate our meals.  Thankfully, our tent was pitched up an incline out of sight of our neighbors.

We slept soundly and then ate a breakfast of tasty pancakes (which got tastier as James became a better chef.)  We packed up camp and began our long trek back to the trailhead.  After only a little bit of walking, we decided to find a nice shallow spot in the creek and ford.  James picked a nice looking spot, we prepared ourselves by taking off shoes and whatnot, grabbed our walking sticks (a third leg), and began crossing.

The water was so freaking cold.  It started out shallow and got much deeper in the middle.  It was swift moving to the point that I fell in and barely managed to catch myself on a rock.  My underwear got wet (a testament to how deep the water was), and I was altogether miserable.  I got mad at James for “making me cross that river,” and felt horrible for a few minutes.  I got over it.  Our detour cut hours off of the return journey, which kind of made up for my moment of terror.  That downhill part at the beginning of the hike turned into an uphill part at the end, but at the final end of everything I felt like I accomplished a whole lot during that weekend.

I was rewarded when we got back to Canyon with a tasty chicken sandwich, took a nice long shower, ate more dinner, and had a caldera (chocolate tasty goodness cake) from the dining room.  In retrospect I had a really great time.

Hikes

Within a period of just over thirteen hours, I recently received emails from Aunt Nancy and both my parents asking when the next blog entry would be, so I suppose it's time for another update.

I have been on four hikes since our last chat.  The first was the day after Hilary's and my rowing adventure, when we and three friends decided to take an evening hike up Mount Washburn.  To our disappointment, the few clouds in the sky were in the west blocking the sunset. Nevertheless, the view from the Canyon area's highest peak was impressive and well-worth the relatively easy (for a mountain) climb.

The next morning, I left for a long daiye hike with Buddy while Hilary got some R&R.  We walked along Sky Rim, part of the northwest park boundary, traveling 21 miles and gaining over 3000 feet.  We had a beautiful panoramic view from the trail and encountered a herd of mountain goats near the high point of the rim: Bighorn Peak.

The following Monday (my "Wednesday"), I went for a little midweek hike up and down Bunsen Peak, where I had a good aerial view of Mammoth Hot Springs and pretty Mammoth area scenery.

Then, Hilary and I had yet another backpacking adventure on Thursday and Friday, which she will discuss in the coming days.

Also, I apologize for the lack of new photos - the internet here is like molasses, and flickr has not been cooperating.

Near Death Experiences

While James was away climbing mountains last weekend I had ample opportunity to rest, so I jumped at the chance since it may have very well been my last (James has planned a big trip for virtually every break from work.)  After my relaxing weekend I was loath to go back to work but knew that it was what was necessary to continue living here in Yellowstone.  It was the fourth of July, which did not improve my attitude toward my job.  After about an hour working at Lodge Favorites, which is quite possibly the worst place to work since it usually has a line out the door, I began to come down with a massive headache.  I was working with a new employee and would have felt bad leaving early so I did not tell my manager in the hopes that it would go away.  Once I realized that my health was in a steady decline I guiltily (and somewhat happily) left work.  An hour later, without the luxury of a thermometer, I had a fever of unknown intensity, and the next day it was worse.  I called in sick for the next two days since it appeared that my illness would not be going away in that time.  After three days of misery (achy, high fever, intense headache) I finally felt good enough to go back to work.

I worked for two days, and then it was our weekend again!  My shift on Wednesday was from 6 – 11 AM, I took a shower, and then James and I were on our way to the Bridge Bay Marina.  I told James that I wanted to rest since I was sick only days ago, so we rented (for free) a rowboat and James proceeded to row me around the marina.  James had wanted to row me all the way out to Stevenson Island, three miles from shore, but the wind was so strong that it was not allowed.  Rowing was easy for James at the beginning of our adventure but, as the gusts grew stronger, it became increasingly difficult.  We almost made it back to our dock, but a particularly strong gust of wind blew us into the wrong one.  A “rescue” became necessary, and then we left.

It took us a little while to find a ride back to Canyon, but we were eventually picked up by an acquaintance of James’s from the University of Texas.  She took us as far as Fishing Bridge, and then some Canyon friends of ours picked us up.  After promising that we would get back to our village by that evening, they took us on a bit of a day hike to Stormy Point.  It was lovely, cold, and windy.  As promised we were back by 6:45, but my relaxing day had turned into a day filled with exercise and adrenaline.  I slept from 7:30 until 8:00 this morning, and I plan on doing little for the rest of the day.

The Newman-Sabate Expedition (to Electric Peak)

This weekend I climbed Electric Peak with my roommate Buddy Sabate.  Buddy is in the corps of cadets at Virginia Tech, one of the two senior milatary colleges within a public state university (Can you guess what the other one is?).  After eating Wednesday dinner in the Mammoth EDR (employee dining room), we hiked through a pretty valley (with an owl) to our campsite.  Along the way we dropped our packs and took a small side trip to Cache Lake, which offered a great view of the mountain.

When we got to the camping area, we came across something we did not expect:  The 15-or-20-foot-wide Gardner River.  With no bridge across the trail, we began to look for fallen logs.  A couple hundred yards upstream we found nothing across the river, but a promising-looking log fifty feet from the water.  We carried it over, stood it up like the flag at Iwo Jima, and let it fall across the river.  Unfortunately, the log that we could carry was a log that could not carry us; it was sagging enough that we would not be able to walk across it without the water coming over the tops of our boots.  Meanwhile, the group staying at the adjacent campsite was on the opposite shore just watching us like we were the evening’s entertainment.  We ended up just taking off our boots and fording the river at the trail.  The water was swift, knee-deep, and icy, making each of our first river fords an overall unpleasant experience (but at least an interesting one).  We later found a couple of satisfactory logs laid across the river near our downstream campsite; we added a few more and stayed dry during our other three crossings.

After a tasty sausage and rice dinner (I was unable to finish my half of the seven cups of rice) we retired, woke up the next morning, and climbed the mountain.  We ascended via the southern (left) ridge in two and a half hours – pretty good time.  The trail distance from base to summit was only about four miles, but we gained over 3000 feet, along with a wonderful view.  (Near the top, we saw a black shoe that someone had dropped.  I was going to pick it up if no one else did, but an off-duty ranger ended up getting it.)  After relaxing on the highest point in the Gallatin Mountain Range, we descended, broke camp, and went home.

When I got back and told my friend Jonathon that I climbed the mountain he asked, “Did you find a black shoe?”  I found him the phone number for her ranger station and am yet to hear where things have gone from there.