The Grand Tetons

July 13th

We awoke early to experience Grand Teton National Park in the pristine morning. It was worth tumbling directly out of bed into bone-chilling temperatures that lawfully ought not to be experienced at the unholy hour of 6:15 without proper psychological preparation. At that time of day, there were virtually no other tourists in the park and not even the mosquitoes were awake yet. We visited Oxbow Bend and Jenny Lake and drove up Signal Mountain, where we saw a pompous sage grouse strutting beside the road. I would like to say that I used my infallible wildlife tracking techniques to take pictures of him as he marched into the brush, but I think he was actually pleased and proud to have his picture taken. He fully splayed his gorgeous plumage and showed off his territorial thumping call. I am almost certain that he also cocked his flamboyant yellow eyebrow at me.

On the way out of the park, in the flats between the Snake River and Jackson Lake, we saw two grizzly bears! They were two juvenile sisters, recently left by their mother to fend for themselves. They foraged in the meadow and inadvertently caused quite a traffic jam of gawking tourists. The bears disappeared for a while in the willows; then suddenly appeared on the road. Sensational! There was a collective gasp before a wave of photo-frantic tourists rushed toward the bears. The tide was stopped by a ranger about 25 yards from the bears. I’ll admit that I was part of the crowd surging toward a formidable predator, known as ursus arctos horribilius. I hasten to add that, on my part, it wasn’t an all out dash—just a respectable, very slow jog. I took my coveted pictures with a telephoto lens and did not call “Here, teddy bear!” to make the grizzly perk up her ears and look at my camera. Still, I my heart was racing with excitement just like everyone else's and I was simply thrilled to get some splendid photos of a grizzly calmly passing through the traffic jam to the other side of the road.

The grizzly somehow has an allure unsurpassed by any other North American mammal. It is both endangered and dangerous; both fascinating and frightening. Every tourist wants to take home a picture of a wild grizzly. I have heard a grown woman aiming her camera at a distant, half-obscured grizzly excitedly squeal, “I just got a picture of a bear butt!” I have no doubt that she will show all her friends a fuzzy picture with a tiny brown spot in one corner. She will point to that auspicious spot and proudly proclaim, “THAT is a grizzly bear!” As her friends properly ooh and ah, she will graciously allow the mantle of photographic accomplishment to settle comfortably on her shoulders.

After encountering the grizzly bears and eating a belated pancake breakfast, Jacquelyn and I decided to go for a bike ride. I wanted to go for a really long ride, but Jacquelyn was a little hesitant at first. For encouragement, I reminded her of the arduous journey of pioneers on the Oregon Trail, who walked beside their wagons for hundreds of miles, facing the danger of unknown and unforgiving territory. I reminded her of the Lost Boys of Sudan who trekked across the desert with only a few shreds of clothing, no water, little food, and the continual hostility of a cruel civil war. I echoed the words of John Paul Jones, "Don't give up the ship!" After this recitative of valorous deeds, she felt more comfortable about our present circumstances and was simply wonderful. The miles quickly flew by; about twenty-five in all.

What could be more magnificent than riding a bike through the Teton Valley? We pedaled past buffalo and antelope roaming the sagebrush prairie and wildflower meadows. We visited a historical frontier homestead, where a rickety cabin has withstood a century of harsh winters and brief summers. We dipped our feet in a cold stream of melted snow. We pedaled on and on as the sun traveled across a limitless sky of deepest blue. Always before us were the snowy peaks of the Tetons, like an ever-present inspiration.