Teton Vision Quest
September 20-23, 2007
I had a nice introduction written but the power went out momentarily and I lost it. Not being one to enjoy writing things twice, I won't attempt to re-write it. So, in abbreviated version (feel free to read at fast-forward speed)...
Labor Day...mom visited...drove to Tetons...spirits...White Brotherhood...invited me to spend three nights...planned week earlier...postponed...finally here.
Left early Thursday morning...tunes...Jackson...bought food...got permit...felt like airport security...parked at Jenny Lake...too many people...Hidden Falls...Inspiration Point.
Grand Teton from south end of Jenny Lake
Trail to Inspiration Point and a few of the thousand tourists
And now we arrive at the point where the power went out, and I return to a more reasonable pace. After a few phone calls at Inspiration Point, I set off up Cascade Canyon beneath the towering gneiss walls of the high peaks.
Looking north from Cascade Canyon
The ascent in the canyon is gradual, providing a needed break after the climb to Inspiration Point. Near the confluence of North and South Cascade Creeks, I came to a forest entirely draped in a type of lichen I have never seen.
Lichen on Engelmann Spruce
I followed South Cascade Creek up a stairstepped canyon - steep stretches with waterfalls alternating with flat areas. The trail at this point is less than a mile (horizontally) from the top of Grand Teton, and the cliffs to the east are quite awe-inspiring.
Two views of Grand Teton from South Fork Cascade Canyon
As soon as I turned south I entered a "camping zone," a series of designated campsites, all well-maintained and supplied with metal bear-resistant boxes. I chose one at about 8800 feet, 2400 vertical feet above Jenny Lake, and set up my tent with plenty of daylight remaining to make dinner and filter water before dark.
Dinner was delicious - dehydrated teriyaki chicken, and I was soon settled in with my new book (The Spell of the Sensuous, a slightly-too-academic treatment of indigenous cultures and their reciprocal sensory relationship with living nature). Night brought no drop in the wind - it seemed to rise until 2 am when it suddenly became calm. The gusts roared through the trees and twisted the tent, and I wondered if any of the nearby trees were ready to succumb to the twin forces of wind and gravity. I slept well after the wind died down, and woke to a cloudless sky on a not-too-cold morning.
Table Mountain (above my campsite) at sunrise
Friday was a perfect day by every meteorological standard yet devised. Unseasonably warm with a breeze and not a cloud in the sky all day. I set out just before 10 for the final, steep 1600-foot ascent to Hurricane Pass. The upper part of the canyon is walled by cliffs and complete with a real (albeit small) glacier - Schoolroom Glacier according to the map.
Schoolroom Glacier and Hurricane Pass (right of center)
Schoolroom Glacier
Time for a brief Teton geology lesson...
The Teton range is relatively young, formed 10 million years ago when the Earth's crust fractured along a 35-mile long normal fault. The eastern rocks sank more than 20,000 feet, while the western side rose nearly 10,000 feet - a displacement of more than 30,000 vertical feet at the center of the fracture. The basin filled to become the flat plain of Jackson Hole, while the uplifted block was carved into steep cliffs by glacial action. When the range was uplifted, a 3,000 foot thick layer of marine sedimentary rock (shale, limestone, and sandstone) covered the ancient metamorphic gneiss. This layer was completely removed from the front of the range, but it remains farther west. Unlike gneiss, sedimentary rock is composed of distinct horizontal layers, and the tilt of these layers reveals the movement that has occurred during mountain building. In the Tetons, these layers angle downward to the west, away from the high peaks. In the final ascent to Hurricane Pass, I crossed the contact betreen gneiss and sandstone - the lowest layer of the sedimentary sequesnce.
A switchback on Hurricane Pass - many hours of CCC sweat went into building this trail.
Switchbacks and sedimentary cliffs below Hurricane Pass.
An oddly green lake below Schoolroom Glacier
A few feet below the top of the pass, I was surprised to find a dead bird in the trail - a Red-naped Sapsucker rather far from any source of sap. There was no sign that a predator had attacked it, so I am left clueless as to how a sucker of sap found itself at the end of its life along the trail to this treeless pass.
Dead Red-naped Sapsucker
Hurricane Pass (10,400 ft) appears rather suddenly with amazing views out onto the plains of Idaho to the west. The wind roars up the valley, concentrating at the top with a force that was somewhat less than hurricane strength but still enough to make me hold onto my hat.
I stopped for some energy bars and jerky at the top, and chatted with a couple from British Columbia who had just hiked up the high plain above the pass and highly recommended that route. They offered to take my picture at the pass, giving me a rare self-portrait on my solo adventure.
The BC couple descending below Hurricane Pass
High tundra plain above Hurricane Pass
Following the couple's advice, I left the trail behind and hiked up the tundra plain, seeking the highest point. Along the way, I discovered another dead animal in an odd place - this little mouse.
The plain narrows to a tongue of rock between cliffs at about 10,800 ft elevation. The view from here is impossible to describe, but certainly one of the most spectacular, or perhaps the most specular, that I have seen in my mountain days. The sloped layers drop down to Alaska Basin to the southwest and Cascade Canyon to the north. To the east, a break in the high peaks allows a view down Avalanche Canyon, while the Grand Teton towers to the northeast. Check out this panorama taken from the highpoint.
I spent about an hour up high, with my hat tucked beneath my pack to prevent it from suffering the same fate as its predecessor. A few photos...
Grand Teton (13,770 ft) - left of center
Sunset Lake and Alaska Basin
Mt. Meek Pass and Death Canyon Shelf (center) - my route forward
Peering over the cliff edge down into Cascade Canyon
Looking east down Avalanche Canyon
An eagle soared above me as I rested, and small clouds began to dance, popping into existence on an updraft, swirling in the currents, then disappearing less than a minute later. I tried to reaffirm connection to life and the planet, laid in the sun, and occasionally snapped photos. Finally I decided it was time to head down - back down the plain to the trail then down, down, down to Sunset Lake.
Sunset Lake - the ridge left of center is where I took the previous photos
After Sunset Lake, it was up, then down into Alaska Basin - back to gneiss polished smooth by glaciers. I chose a campsite in a grassy meadow near a little springfed stream - a soft bed of dead grass to add to my thin sleeping pad. Some birds of prey were circling in the distance below the valley rim, and some small animals beneath were making squeaking noises of warning. I went over to investigate, but found nothing - the birds were gone and the animals were silent. I read a few more chapters, made dinner, and chatted with some people who picked a campsite nearby. They had had trouble with a black bear at their camp the previous night - it had gone for their food and gotten some coffee creamer.
A good view of the contact between the sedimentary layers (sloping upward to the right at center) and the underlying gneiss
Little blue tent in a soft meadow
The waxing moon rose above the tent, making for an idyllic photo that I tried to capture.
The sun set behind smoke from Idaho fires, lending a deep red glow to the dusk light.
After darkness fell, I read by the light of my headlamp and set the camera for a 40-minute exposure aimed at the North Star. The result: star trails.
Polaris moves a little - it is not perfectly north. The five bright lines at right are formed by Cassiopeia, and the Little Dipper can be seen coming off of the North Star to the left.
Story continues with Part 2.