Wyoming: Return to the Range

Hard to believe, but it’s been four and a half years since our honeymoon in Wyoming, a third of that time shrouded in the fog of a global pandemic. Spurred by an aching desire to get back into the world, Jane and I booked a return trip to Jackson Hole almost a year ago, when the COVID-19 vaccines were merely whispers and rumor. We held onto those plane tickets like little totems of sheer, dumb hope - hope that life would eventually return to some semblance of normalcy, that old familiar places and memories of happier days might be just around the corner. Our flights connect in Chicago and Denver instead of Salt Lake City this time, and we’re pausing busy attending/scientist lives instead of coming off a whirlwind intern-year wedding. I’m a better photographer. It’s the height of autumn in the Rockies, instead of late spring. But despite the masked faces in the airport terminals and the ever-changing world, there are some things that remain, comfortingly, the same. The Tetons are just as imposing and majestic as we left them four years ago; it’s hard to find a meal anywhere except the Signal Mountain Lodge; and trading wildlife stories is still topic du jour for every encounter with a friendly hiker, photographer, and binocular-wearing enthusiast on the trail. In the face of our little growing and receding human lives, the national parks continue to have a constancy and reliability that is all their own.

After a unusually leisurely early afternoon flight out of Boston (enough time for a lunch at Legal Seafoods in the airport), we arrive in Jackson Hole by way of Chicago. It’s near sundown, and we’re due for beautiful light as a storm front moves in from the southwest, down the valley. We zip from the tarmac to the inside of our rental car in record time (9 minutes including a bathroom break; I don’t think we’ll ever beat this one), and drive a few miles to photograph sunset at the Blacktail Ponds. At the overlook, we’re treated to a perfect re-introduction to the Teton Range: gold and magenta clouds catching upon the peaks, light receding behind the mountain wall, and in the foreground, the meandering Snake River passing us beyond stands of spruce, cottonwood, and willow. In the distance, we hear the sounds of bull elks bugling - their haunting screams echoing across the mountain slopes. Fall is in full procession here; I set up my tripod and shoot timelapses of the sweeping clouds, and close and far shots incorporating the golden foliage. As the sun sets, we drive northeast on the highway past the park’s east entrance gate, arriving after half an hour at our lodging for the next four nights: a cabin at the Heart Six Ranch in Buffalo Valley. We break out our electric water kettle from home, and settle in after a dinner of instant noodles, dried fruit, and canned goods.

The second day of the trip is a roving one; owing to a patchwork of weather systems and rainstorms blowing in off the peaks, we elect to stay near the car and hit some high-yield photography locations. We start with sunrise at Oxbow Bend. The light is overall lacklustre, owing to a bank of high clouds shrouding us to the east, but the sight of Mt. Moran looming over the horizon and the colors of the maples and alders reflected in the river, all suffused in the pink glow of dawn, is nevertheless very pretty. We move a short distance east, walking toward Signal Mountain past a stand of aspen trees, and taking in views of the Snake River. I shoot another timelapse here as storm clouds close in on the Teton Range; we make a hasty retreat back to the car as raindrops begin to land from a distance.

Back in the car, we head toward Jackson for groceries to round out our instant noodle and snack stash from home. Along the highway, we catch amazing light near the Triangle X Ranch, and we revisit some old scenes from our honeymoon: the Snake River Overlook (still nothing like in Ansel Adams’ day, though gorgeous with the autumn colors) and Schwabacher Landing (a lovely mountain scene with the aid of golden cottonwoods and dramatic skies). In town, Jackson is crawling with other tourists and their cars; we avoid the center of town and make a quick grocery stop at Albertson’s before returning back to Buffalo Valley for a break and an afternoon nap.

In the late afternoon, we head back into the park to scout out more compositions for sunset. Sunset itself turns out to be a bust, as another wall of storm clouds descends from the mountains (a daily occurrence, it seems), shrouding the whole range from view. We stop and shoot at the Willow Flats Overlook (unable to explore, as the area is closed due to bear activity) and make an abortive attempt at getting dinner in the Jackson Lake Lodge (no chance in hell) before retreating to our ranch for another instant noodle dinner. The loveliest images of the evening come from a spur-of-the-moment roadside stop just west of Buffalo Valley, and at the very end of the golden hour, on the road just outside of our cabin.

Wyoming: Two Ocean Lake

There are a number of places that I intended to visit after getting married four years ago - but time, weather, and fatigue got the better of us at the end of that honeymoon trip, and we only ever had two days to spend in the vicinity of the Tetons, anyways. Two Ocean Lake is such a place. Nestled in a high valley to the east of the main range, the lake is just far enough from the park to feel like a world unto itself, host to a beautiful blend of riparian, deciduous, and alpine ecosystems. In an entire morning of hiking, we see only four other people - and one very lazy bull moose. We wake shortly after sunrise to see the previous night’s thunderstorm clearing against the Tetons’ main peaks - the soaring pinnacles known as the Cathedral Group, including Teewinot, Mt. Owen, and the Grand itself. In the car, we make the brief drive into the park and turn down Pacific Creek. We find lovely photographic conditions all along the drive up to Two Ocean Lake: mist hanging over the creek against a backdrop of freshly fallen snow, and glorious aspens set alight by the rising sun.

At the lakeside trailhead, we gear up for an eight-mile lariat hike (longer than, but reminiscent of, our lariat at the Bubbles on Mount Desert Island): a six-mile loop around Two Ocean Lake itself, and a mile up and down to Grand View Point, atop the ridgeline that separates the lake from the main valley. After a year without serious hiking at altitude (thanks, Massachusetts), we make surprisingly good time around the lake - or, we would, if I weren’t constantly stopping for photographs, in utter awe at the beauty of the scenery. We nearly stumble upon a bull moose resting no more than forty or fifty yards off the trail; we carefully tiptoe a wide semicircle around it, but the moose seems far too comfortable and complacent this morning to give us any trouble. At the northwestern end of the lake, we push up into the forest and make a steep, switchbacking climb to the top of the ridge, where we’re treated with sweeping views of snow-dusted pine trees, rolling clouds to the horizon, the Tetons rising beyond Jackson Lake to the west, and Two Ocean Lake below us to the east, shining like a mirror. We stop here for a snack break (bread rolls, dried fruit, and trail mix), a timelapse, and some selfies along the ridgeline. Descending the hill, we make good time back to the car, power-walking the southern half of lakeside loop, which is mostly forested and has much less going for it in terms of scenery and open views - 3 miles in an hour. Overall, we cover 8 miles in roughly 4 hours. Back at the ranch, we stop in the diner for a well-earned lunch (a burger for me, a club sandwich for Jane, and huckleberry milkshake between us). We take the rest of the afternoon off, shooting a lovely sunset timelapse at the ranch - just steps away from our cabin, and far-removed from the sightseering crowds of the national park.

Wyoming: Cascade Canyon

Cascade Canyon is another beautiful place that eluded us on our first stint in the Tetons - that time because of the late spring weather (a heavy winter led to trails still being iced-over during our late May visit). This time, we returned to the Tetons in the fall precisely to be able to access the mountain passes, and with them, the glorious alpine scenery that far exceeds any experience of viewing the Teton Range from a distance. Up close, on foot, and deeply intimate - this is the best way to photograph the western mountains. After another peaceful night at the ranch, Jane and I set off in the pre-dawn darkness for Jenny Lake, at the heart of the park. Along the way, we photograph mist rising from the mountains just before sunrise, the peaks and gullies snow-covered after the overnight passage of yet another storm system. We arrive at Jenny Lake shortly sunrise; I photograph the cloud-laced reflections of the mountains off the lake surface before we head out, counter-clockwise, toward Cascade Creek. Our day’s hike will have us covering 11 miles (2 miles to the western end of the lake, and then 4.5 miles up and down the canyon). We choose to set off well before the Jenny Lake boat shuttle begins running at 10 AM, so that we can enjoy at least a few hours of peace and solitude in the mountains.

After walking an undulating trail of rock steps along the lakeshore, we reach Hidden Falls, a lovely, ribboning cascade that descends from high up the canyon and falls toward the lake surface. I take some lovely long exposure compositions here and along the trail to the western boat dock, where a showy red barberry bush serves as foreground for another portion of the creek. We take a hydration break before tackling the rocky switchbacks up to Inspiration Point, where we’re treated with panoramic views over Jenny Lake and Jackson Hole - morning mist rising along the Snake River in the far distance.

Now that we’re level with Cascade Canyon, the walk is fairly straightforward, but the views are breathtakingly beautiful. The mountains, which were impressive at a distance, have become almost unimaginably imposing now that we are among them; all sense of scale is lost as we walk ever closer to the granite walls. In another half a mile, the canyon opens up into a broad, V-shaped trough; the serrated edges of Teewinot and the faraway summit of the Grand looming to our left, and the many-layered pink granite of Storm Point rising to our right. The pleasant trickle of Cascade Creek is in places interrupted by rushing rapids, rivulets streaming from the high mountain glaciers; the rocky trail alternates between open meadows, streamside paths, and forest clearings. The autumn colors here in the canyon are stunning, especially as we near the fork at the head of the canyon. We pass through groves of glowing orange and golden aspens, stands of yellow birch, and rich splashes of hawthorn and maple leaves. Jane and I set a turnaround time but violate it repeatedly to photograph our surroundings, determined as we are to the finish the entire trail to the canyon fork. On our way up, we pass only handful of other hikers.

At the fork of Cascade Canyon (unceremoniously indicated by a slight clearing and a single wooden trail marker), we find a nice boulder with a view of the tumbling creek below, and eat our trail lunch of bread, jerky, fruit and dessert trail mix (the Neapolitan mix from Target, with strawberry, vanilla, and chocolate yogurt chips in addition to almonds and dried strawberries. Amazing. To die for). Afterward, we all but sprint back down the canyon to the western boat dock, passing the growing hordes of incoming boat riders (identifiable by their sandals, hand-carried plastic water bottles, and total lack of situational awareness). From these hikers, we hear that our path outward is being apparently cleared by a grizzly bear cub, which spooks many on the trail (we continuously pass by people who “just saw it! It just came down ahead of you!” for half an hour). Thankfully, we never catch up to the cub or catch any indication of its mother; we cover the return 4.5 miles in 90 minutes (!), for a total hike of 11 miles over 6 hours. We’re first-in-line for the boat ride back to the Jenny Lake trailhead, and eat a late lunch of chowder, chili, and sandwiches at the Signal Mountain Lodge before returning to our cabin.