Teton Afterimages

The past two months have been spent exploring the Grand Tetons.  I am now moving on, but I felt that I should share those photos that best represent what this experience has been for me.  If you have followed my blog, most of these are reruns, but I think they are worthy of a second look.

When I got to the Tetons, they were still locked in the grip of winter.  While the lakes were beginning to thaw at the edges, they were still mostly ice-covered.  The trails - well, I would have needed snow shoes for most.

It wasn't long, however, before the warmth of the sun transformed the area, turning white to green - and red - and yellow...

The rising sun still lit the prairie grasses as gold rather than green, but that was just fine with me.

Life was springing forth anew all around.

As the spring progressed, I was able to get to higher elevations.  There, the first wildflowers, already faded down lower, were just blooming.

In the campground, early mornings often brought visitors, in this case a bull moose in velvet.

My hikes were getting longer, and higher.  Perhaps the most beautiful, at least to me, were the middle reaches of Cascade Canyon.  I had been there before, but never this far in.

The heat of early summer was rapidly melting the snow on the peaks.  That snowmelt became clear, clean water tearing its way over boulders on its way to the Snake River.

The mental image that I think will stay longest with me is that of the trails, winding their way toward these magnificent peaks, drawing me on with each crest and turn.

The day that I left the Tetons, I spent the night at a roadside pull-off, so I could see the sunset

... and the dawn on the range of peaks I was leaving behind.

One final image - my favorite of the entire stay...  I had spotted a barn that I thought would be a good photo subject with the light of dawn.  So, one morning, I arose early enough to get there before sunrise.  When I got there, I found that about 20 others had had the same idea.  I picked my spot for the composition I wanted, and waited.  When the sun reached the barn, the light, and the scene, were all I had hoped for.

If I see nothing else, this summer will have been a treat.

Blacktail Butte

Thrice before, I have worked my way up Blacktail Butte.  The first time, I bushwhacked up near the climbing area.  I reached the ridge, several hundred feet above the plain.  The second time, I followed an easier trail on a ridgeline rising from the plain behind the Gros Ventre campground.  That was easier, and I made it about 600' up before retreating.  The third time I was with a friend from the campground.  That time, I made it 800' above the plain (see my posts - "Where Have All The Flowers Gone..." and "Spring Has Sprung In The Tetons").

I figured I was done, but success on other hikes persuaded me to try again.

The summer skies have been pretty spectacularly blue, and the weather has been hot - too hot to hike the shadeless and waterless Blacktail Butte.

On July 2, I decided to go for it, hiking mid-morning before the heat settles in rather than my usual afternoon hiking time.  The start was just as impressive as before.  That trail is where I was headed.

The sky was... incredibly blue.  And dry - the trail underfoot was powdery.

I got to the 800' point and took a rest at a spot of shade while I re-assessed.

My rest spot was fringed by an area with trees.  The border between those trees and the prairie grasses that cover most of the Butte abounded with flowers, even more than the last time I was up here.

I moved on.  I added another 200' of elevation, coming to an area where the flowers were fewer, different varieties, and of more intense coloration.

I reached a high valley area.  The trail continued up a grassy slope.  My GPS told me that the high point was at least another 500' of elevation, so I turned around.  Working my way up that valley, I was too hot and too focused on self assessment to really notice my surroundings.  Coming down, I realized that the trail in the bottom of that high valley was fringed with a delightful assortment of color, a mix of wildflowers of all kinds. (Can you see the trail winding between those blooms?)

The descent was unremarkable, except that the dry conditions made the trail crumbly and the footing less certain than on my prior climbs.  My hiking poles made it work.  I returned to camp, having done a hike over 2 miles long and 1000' high.  I'm satisfied with that.

Laughing at myself (again)

In the Tetons I have seen moose, elk, deer, antelope, bison, a bald eagle, a fox, and various smaller critters.  In spite of the fact that I am getting farther back country than ever before, and going there often, I have yet to see any wolves or bears.

I heard that there was considerable grizzly activity in the Oxbow Bend/Willow Flats area, so off I went.  On getting there, this sign seemed to confirm the rumors.

I set up on the edge of the closed area and began searching with my binoculars.  Nothing.

I returned the next day and resumed my search.  After a while I spotted a brown shape waaaay off across the flats. (Dead center in the photo)

It was moving.  It was definitely... something.  I shot a number of photos, knowing that the distance was so great that even with my 500mm lens and the most sharpening that I could get out of photoshop, the odds of a clear photo were very low.  But it was still there, and still moving!  Was I finally seeing a grizzly?  The color looked right...

When I got back to the computer I blew up the image 400% and cleaned it up as much as possible.  I finally was able to identify it.

Here is a shot from much closer range. 

It is a Sandhill Crane.  Not a bear.  Oh well...

Where Have All The Flowers Gone...

Some are at the Tetons.

You can focus on individual blooms,

... or on fields spread with colors other than green.

Either way, though I am not a "flower" person, they are pretty.

Let's take a hike...

The Tetons are a relatively short, narrow range of peaks that rise precipitously from the plain in front of them.  Almost all the hikes here begin near the base of the peaks on the eastern edge.  The hike into Cascade Canyon differs in one small respect.  Instead of plains at the base, there is Jenny Lake, and instead of driving to a trailhead, you take a boat.

See that notch in the peaks?  That is Cascade Canyon - our destination.

After getting off the boat, we begin to climb.  The trail parallels the Cascade Creek.  Look again at the first photo.  The Cascade Creek flows along the bottom of Cascade Canyon, gathering rainfall runoff, spring flow and snow melt into the relatively flat bottom of the Canyon before coming to the Canyon's eastern terminus and the rather abrupt drop to Jenny Lake.  Dropping through this area, Cascade Creek is a roaring, frothing tumult of unrelenting white water.

Cascade Creek is the source of Hidden Falls, a waterfall about half way up to Inspiration Point.

Continuing the climb, about 3/4 of the way up to Inspiration Point is a rock outcrop.  Lots of hikers think this is the Point; it's not. 

The steepest part is ahead.  If you want to see Inspiration Point, check out my post from a year ago.  I had better light for photographing the view over Jenny Lake then.

The trail flattens out a bit after Inspiration Point as it moves into Cascade Canyon.

 

As the trail flattens, the streamfall becomes less violent and it begins to broaden and slow, presenting more tranquil and absolutely captivating views.

Notice how the slies to the west are getting dark?  Yep, we're going to get wet.

 

The dark skies and freshly wet vegetation gave the scenery an intensely green appearance.

Our turnaround is at a pair of waterfalls dropping off the cliff face to our south.  The larger drop on the left is probably 150' high or more.  To the right is a feathery falls that is almost invisible at this distance.

Stopping for a rest and a snack just behind Inspiration Point, I was not the only one nibbling.  A marmot, almost black in coloration, was doing a bit of browsing.

Thanks for sharing the walk with me.  For a final shot, here is a 3-D image of the Canyon.  Click on it to enlarge it.  Then look PAST it so that it forms a double image.  Adjust how far past it you are looking so that the two sides of the image merge or superimpose to create one center image.

Sweet.

What - again?

Yesterday I found myself once again on the trail to Taggert Lake.  It was a hot day, with a crystal clear sunny sky.  I repeated a few photos, knowing that clouds in the background had diminished the majesty of the peaks in earlier photos.

First, the stream crossing -

The warm weather meant increased snowmelt, which translated into high streamflow.  I like this shot much more than the first one I posted.  The peak that seems to be the source of the flow is much more present.

Beginning the uphill grind, about 1/3 of the way up, I met some folks coming down.  They stopped and visited briefly and the man mentioned that there was a lot of uphill to go.  I agreed, and said this would be my third time up there this spring.

He got a puzzled look on his face and asked, "why?"

This is why.

This is taken within a few feet of a shot I posted last time, yet it looks quite different.

Follow the yellow brick - er, um, dirt - road...
Or - "The long and winding road..."

 How could you look at this and be satisfied with seeing it only once?

 Flowers are different every day.

Light and wind make the lake different every time you see it.

Flowers in the foreground are like golden ornaments decorating the far views.

The views don't stop, and are different at each point along the trail.

How could once possibly be enough?