![]() ![]() I hear the bigger stream and want to find a spot to sit while I filter, so move on, massive rock slabs appearing which the trail scurries around. ![]() I meet a large group of men filtering water at a small stream. I’m in the trees and the shade feels good, though views pop out as the trail begins a long series of switchbacks. As we part they wonder if a backpack trip with mules might be in the cards for them. ![]() “We’re old, but we’re doing the best thing for your health!”Īin’t that the truth. They’re from Alabama and one has a strong accent. But then I meet a trio in their seventies curious about what I’m doing. A few hikers pass wearing headphones and barely acknowledge I’m there. I climb slow and steady in absolutely no rush. Mount Moran is visible much of the day with its long, dark stripe of rock embedded in a mostly gray mountain. It’s five miles of steep and rocky ascent climbing between magnificent walls towards lakes and finally a divide taking the hiker behind the major peaks. I spent two summers playing flute at the Grand Teton Music Festival, so walked this canyon many times. Mostly the bushes are turning yellow and red, even as the day heats up. Everyone is happy, commenting on the clear skies (finally) The air is pungent with pine and balsam, it’s fresh and cool as I circle the lake, cross a channel and meet the trail up Paintbrush Canyon. I pack up, put on sunscreen and take off on a wide and flat track. He drives me a few minutes more north to the Leigh Lake trailhead where I eat one of my sandwiches looking straight at the Grand with two SUP paddlers in line for scale and interest. “It’s getting cold and the animals are already moving south down the Gros Ventre,” as we spy a small herd of pronghorn antelope doing just that. I walked the trail from north to south, backwards from most hikers and had the hardest climbs at the start. I walked very short days, but then had the time to soak it all in. The route from Leigh Lake up and over Paintbrush Divide to Lake Solitude. The Grand Tetons are situated in Northwest Wyoming just south or Yellowstone. He also gives me tips on the best sites and wishes me luck, before I race back to Bear who assumed I’d nabbed a permit. He suggests a few side scrambles and to bring warm gear since it might snow in three days. I joke with him that I’m going for my ‘SKT,’ Slowest Known Time over the crest, carrying six days of food with no intention to hurry. Ranger George helps me, an avuncular older man who apologizes when he needs to pick up the phone to organize a search and rescue. I wander past the store and visitor center, the place crowded but not nearly as bad as mid-July. I like him right away especially when he promises to wait to ensure I can hike. He’s ex-military and British, swiped by us to train soldiers for high altitude missions. ‘Bear’ picks me up to drive me over to the Jenny Lake Ranger Station, my fingers and toes crossed I can nab a permit. It’s a good deal at $30 for five days or more – I opt for two weeks just in case. You can’t fly with bear spray, so I rent a can near baggage claim. It’s a short runway and we plop down and brake fast. We cross other ranges in a bit of haze, but it’s Chamber of Commerce blue skies, just a wisp of cloud at the tip of the Grand. Small world and hoping for a drink together when I finish. That’s where one of my climbing buddies, Cheyenne happens to be sitting on her way home, now that she lives out here. Sadly, it’s the wrong side to see the Teton Range as we fly towards Jackson Hole. The flight is delayed due to mechanical trouble, but the women who shares my row switches with me for a window seat. Part of the reason I left for this open-ended backpacking trip now was the coming of fall, but also to get away from overthinking. Everything went well, but it absolutely wiped me out and stirred the pot of insecurity and uncertainty. It’s been a long week with voice over work plus interviews for a job I would really like to be hired for in a place I want to live. Yesterday, I biked to Chipotle for two giant burritos wrapped in tin foil to eat along my journey. Nights will be right at freezing so I pack big greenie, my zero degree bag, plus layers and six days of meals. The weather forecasts a splendid week of upper 60’s and low 70’s under bright sunny days with all the smoke blown out. There’s nothing special to be done, just roll out of bed, put on my hiking outfit and go. The morning comes early, still dark when my alarm goes off. Ann Patchett On day one with 6 1/2 days worth of food and feeling strong. Coming back is the thing that enables you to see how all the dots in your life are connected. ![]()
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