Well, I stand up next to a mountain,
And chop it down, with the edge of my hand.
Well, I stand up next to a mountain,
And chop it down, with the edge of my hand.
Well, I pick up all the pieces
And make an island,
Might even raise a little sand.
~Jimi Hendrix
Dave:
Not sure if Jimi was referring to the Grand Tetons, but if he was, he must have been feeling bold, bold as love (just ask the axis). These are some bad-assed mountains, rising from the valley floor like craggy, gnarled fingers trying to kiss the sky (ed. note: Hendrix reference trumps mixed metaphor). The name of the range roughly translates to “Large Breasts,” en francais. Which got me to thinking of ways that the name could be exploited, and I figured that some enterprising guy (or gal) had certainly come up with the idea for a “Grand Tetons of Jackson Hole” swimsuit calendar/poster/video. So I scoured downtown Jackson in search of such an item, determined to find one for Dad in an attempt to cheer him up while we wait for the Irish offense to finally score a touchdown one of these weeks. But alas, my search was in vain, and we decided to venture into Grand Teton National Park to get an up close and personal look at the namesakes themselves.
While hiking around String Lake, we met Louis and Clarke (slight return), a couple from Missouri. I believe she was an aroma therapist, and I recall him mentioning something about ball bearings. Anyhow, we ended up talking and hiking with them for quite some time, getting along quite well, and finally got around to talking about lodging, and they mentioned that their cabin had a massive stone fireplace, a hot tub and a bearskin rug, and how they‘d really like it if we came by and helped them drink a bottle of 15 year old Laphroaig that they‘d been saving for a special occasion. Now thanks to the esteemed congressman from Idaho, I know much more than I ever did about cruising in public restrooms for gay sex. But I’ve gotta admit, I’m really at a loss when it comes to swinging. I mean, what’s the etiquette? It’s not like there’s a stall where I can slide my foot under. Do we need to bring refreshments? How do you dress? Feeling much like the amateurs that we are, we spent a quiet night in our own cabin, likely never to see Louis and Clarke again. So if there’s anyone out there with any “tips for swingers” (ask around the neighborhood, Regina), please pass them along. We head for Yellowstone next, and there are plenty of hot springs, so we’ve gotta be prepared.
Tracey:
Frost on the pumpkin! It was 27 degrees here this morning and we had to scrape the car windows before venturing out for coffee.
We’ve been having problems connecting to wi-fi since we left Estes Park - tried three different places and though we got a strong signal, it wasn’t giving us internet access. Worried that it was our computer, we stopped by a computer repair place in Jackson and met a very nice guy there named Dave who checked it out for free, assured us that it wasn’t our computer, told us to quit our jobs and then high-fived us when we told him we already had.
Sign in a Jackson store window: “Unattended children will be given espresso and a free puppy.” I saw a nice T-shirt that would’ve looked good on you, Dad, but thought you’d be hesitant to wear anything that said Hole on it, Jackson or otherwise.
Arrived in Grand Teton National Park and stopped at the first Visitor Center to get our bearings. Our friend Adam had told us that his folks were working in the Park this summer, but we had misplaced his email and weren’t sure where in the Park or what their names were. As we checked out the Visitor Center we saw a woman who seemed to be the right age, but her nametag only gave her first name. Dave figured it was worth a shot and walked right over and said “Hi, are you Adam’s mom?” and damned if she wasn’t - found her on our very first try. She gave us some good tips, including directions to her favorite fly fishing stream. Since we got settled in at Signal Mountain Lodge later in the day, we only had time for a short hike around one of the smaller lakes.
At dinner we were seated at a table that was fairly close to the neighboring table and overheard the server asking the older couple seated there where they were from. They said Virginia and she said “Charlottesville by any chance? My fiancée’s mother and sister live there and we just went and visited them.” As it turned out, they were from Northern Virginia, not Charlottesville, but their son went to UVA and we ended up talking with them through the rest of dinner. They were around 70 and as recently as 5 years ago had been really into biking (when 9/11 happened they were crossing the Danube following a bike tour of the Alps). So far it’s been that kind of trip, meeting people every step of the way that have some kind of Virginia (or New Jersey) connection: the waiter in Estes Park had a sister living in Midlothian close to my parents; a local guy in Colorado who stopped to elk-watch with us has a brother who works for MicroAire in Charlottesville; a couple we spoke at length with over breakfast lived within a couple of miles of where Dave grew up in West Trenton; the librarian in Grand Lake who was trying to help us with our wireless connection asked us where we were from and when we said Charlottesville he said that his wife was there visiting her family that very day. So we’ve met lots of great people and Dave has earned the new nickname Davey DeGregarious….
