Canyon Camping in Utah

We are in the home stretch of our time here in Wyoming. As we've done in other places we've lived (Vancouver, Montreal, the U.K) we've started making a 'Gotta Do Before We Leave' list. Top on Doug's: a canyon hike in Utah.

So last Wednesday morning we jumped in the Element ("Ellie") and the Mini and headed along the I-80 West. Before venturing into the wilderness, though, we made our requisite stops in Park City at the recycling center, outlet mall, and Red Rock Brewery for lunch. Then we dropped off the Mini south of Salt Lake City for its last round of repairs and continued down the I-15 toward the Canyonlands, stopping briefly in the town of Helper to get Tylenol and muscle ointment: it was a really strenuous shopping trip!

The sun was setting as we pulled into Green River, Utah which is basically a glorified truck stop of fast food restaurants and motels. We went middle-of-the-road and stayed at the Super 8, which was clean and backed onto sage flats - perfect for letting Riker run after being cooped up most of the day. While we mused aloud about GR, UT being like the evil twin city of our current hometown of Green River, Wyoming, we alas did not run into twisted version of ourselves and our friends there... maybe we're the weird ones already!

We got a decent night’s sleep after Riker stopped growling at people in the hall and by 6 a.m. we were up and ready to continue south toward our destination of Arch Canyon near Blanding, Utah. First we had to stop at the McDonald’s in Moab to grease up for the trek, of course, and ogle the insane number of R.V. parks chock full of these portable homes. Shudder....

At 10:30 a.m. we were at the trailhead with our packs strapped to us - even Riker had one so he could carry his collapsible bowl, kibble, and treats!

I was really surprised at how sandy the trail was, and it was a heck of a workout keeping our balance and getting up the hills.

There was a lot more vegetation than I had expected as well, some of which - like the trembling aspens - were wearing their fall colours.

After a 9-mile hike with breaks for lunch and a quick snooze we arrived at the junction of Arch and Texas Canyons where there was the biggest, most groomed campsite ever. Plus there was a flaming red maple tree/bush which we took as a sign that us two Canucks and our American dog should set up camp there. We made dinner - freeze-dried Katmandu Curry - followed by a dessert of freeze-dried dark chocolate cheesecake. In the real world these probably wouldn't taste amazing, but out there after all that huffing and puffing, it was gourmet!

Unfortunately our freeze-dried pancakes the next morning didn't turn out quite so well. Okay, they failed miserably. Probably because we had nothing to grease the pan with and the heat didn't distribute very evenly. After one attempt that scorched the pan, we dumped the rest of the batter behind a tree. Which, of course, Riker proceeded to lick up.

So I quickly made up some wraps with pb, honey, sunflower seeds and dried fruit, a recipe I'd found in Backpacker Magazine and we ate them while hiking further up Arch Canyon with minimal gear.

By 11am we were back at our campsite at Texas Flats and had stripped off most of our layers: while it was hovering near freezing at dawn, it gradually warmed up as the sun found its way into the canyon, reaching about 18 celsius. We ate our mac and cheese and started breaking camp when all these ATVs came roaring up the trail right to us. We counted at least ten ATVs - a whole family at least - and decided we'd try and stick to the riverbeds and side canyons (where they couldn't follow) as much as possible.

A couple miles back toward the trailhead we deked off to a side canyon on the left in search of springs we'd seen noted in the hiking book. After stashing our backpacks, we hiked for an hour, clambering over boulders and learned an important lesson: grey rocks = solid; red rocks = crumbly sandstone you can break your neck stepping on. Or in Doug's case, his bum.

In the end the mythical springs turned out to be trickles of water dripping off moss on these rocks. Not quite the impressive founts we had imagined. But, the water was cold and wet and after pumping it through a filter, boiling it, and dousing it with chemicals, we figured it was safe to drink and cook with. And we must have been right, because no one got dysentry on the trip (well, Riker had an interesting day after the pancake batter...).

That night we hiked to another well-groomed camping spot closer to the trailhead. It was a little trickier to navigate all the cacti, but other than Riker getting one 'spike ball' stuck in his paw (and then in mine when I tried to remove it) we managed. At day break on Saturday we packed up and headed back to Ellie - and just in time to avoid a veritable onslaught of ATV-ers there to celebrate the Columbus Day long weekend by laying siege to Ute territory.

We made it back to the 'real' Green River mostly in one piece, but thoroughly exhausted from exercise, the long drive, and Riker's 'watch-dogginess' that began with the birds' rustlings at 4:30am. Then on Sunday we rectified the pancake incident by eating the most delicious home-made blueberry-flax pancakes ever (a high-altitude recipe I've been tweaking since moving here a year ago). Monday we celebrated the controversial Columbus Day aka Canadian Thanksgiving aka El dia de la Raza the right way: by gorging on margaritas and fajitas at Don Pedro's restaurant! Ole!

Now the camping gear is stowed until the spring, except for Riker's backpack, which is not only practical but cements our reputation as the yuppiest family in good ol' Green River.

Fall (Re)Training

October, I decided, is about getting back into shape.

I feel like the last few months I've been letting both my mind and body lie fallow. This isn't a totally bad thing. After all, think of farming: agriculturalists know you've got to give a field a chance to rest, to regain nutrients, so that it can sprout forth a new crop next season. So the summer might have meant a mushy brain and less than stellar commitment to hard-bodyism, but it was what the two needed to come back with renewed vigor.

It's often hard to change habits, though, and a helping hand can be useful to pull us to our feet or give us a much-needed smack. My help has come in the form of Yvonne, a personal trainer at the Green River Recreation Center I've begun seeing. The first time we met, we spent two hours going over my current fitness and nutrition plans. "You know you've been coasting," Yvonne told me with a kind but knowing look on her face. "It's time to step it up."

Stepping it up first involved figuring out my baseline numbers, which meant getting a wrist heart-rate monitor I'm still not adept at using. The instructions say to hold it up level, making sure the strap is fastened securely and lays flush against the skin. It also says I may need to moisten my finger when I push on the sensor - but not too hard, because that creates "muscle confusion." My muscles are already confused, but this heart-rate thing is scrambling my brains too! How am I supposed to get a heart-rate reading (nevermind a decent workout) when I have to stop moving, hold my left arm in the air while licking my right finger to press delicately against the sensor?!

Nevertheless, when I have managed to get the darn thing to work, it has told me clearly that no matter how hard I push myself on cross-country walks and hikes, I'm not going to challenge my body. And if I'm not challenging it, then I'm not improving my cardiovascular system or torching the extra Tostitos I tossed back on the couch...

The next wake-up call was in mid-September when I realized the CIBC Run for the Cure was two weeks away. Last year I ran the 5km (my first!) a few weeks after moving to Wyoming. I was new to running and had just moved from sea level to 6,100ft so I was allowed to struggle. This year the 5km should have been a piece of cake. It wasn't. Although I'd jog a couple of miles here and there, I certainly had not been training regularly. So I hauled my butt down to the Green belt for a test run, so to speak, and breathed so hard that I must have sucked in half a sagebrush plant because for the next day I had intermittent sneezing fits and my left nostril ran so much I had to stick a kleenex up it during mealtimes to avoid extra 'dressing' on my salad.

So for the last two weeks I executed a mini training plan and by October 4th I was able to do my 5km "Run for Mums" and fulfill my promise to my generous sponsors. Mind you, the run took place on a treadmill in the gym because mother nature hit us with hail, rain, snow and 45 mph wind that day. But I did it. And it didn't even hurt that much.

Okay, so the body is cooperating alright and I find it really helpful knowing that in a month Yvonne will look over my fitness logs. Accountability helps. Praise is even better. And gosh darnit if I pull out my gold star stickers I could run a marathon, or maybe even make it through a spinning class!

But what about the mind? That is a trickier beast indeed. It is happy doling out stickers to the body that surrounds it, but mightily resists its own changes, challenges, and work. It is very good at distracting me, too: ooh - I should make muffins! Or clean out the closet! Or go for a run! These are all practical, useful tasks that seem rational, but they are designed to distract. So I'm trying to be crafty back: I took my brain to a writing workshop in Cheyenne, WY last week where it was impossible not to be inspired. Then I borrowed books from the library with such winning titles as "The Plot Thickens" and "How to Write and Sell Historical Fiction." I also sit down every morning with a caffeinated beverage to try and get the old brain cells sparking, and slowly but surely I think they might be responding.

What I really need, though, is an Yvonne for my brain. Or maybe some really super-duper stickers...

Warm Reception in Cowboy Country

Even when you lose someone special, the show, as they say, must go on. A few days after our return from Ottawa, Doug and I were scheduled to fly out to Houston where Doug was to receive a week's training to become the Rock Springs Schlumberger office's radiation specialist officer, and where I would give a talk at the Houston Aviation Alliance's monthly luncheon.

The humidity hit us as soon as we landed at George Bush Intercontinental Airport on Saturday, September 12th. It was early afternoon when we arrived at our hotel, the lovely Crowne Plaza Downtown Houston, and the storm clouds were threatening. Not wanting to sit still after all that time on planes, we hopped a cab (with a French-speaking driver!) over to Houston's mega shopping destination, The Galleria. I was absolutely gobsmacked at the size of this mall, the number of people there, and the high-endedness of the stores in one 'neighbourhood' of the centre. We managed to find the "middle class neighbourhood" after a while and I practically pranced around Banana Republic, Anne Taylor Loft, and Nordstrom's. Ah, the delights of consumerism!

Then we were off to The Oceanaire to consume the fruits of the sea: oysters, calamari, mussels, crab, and some kind of white fish. We also enjoyed the fruits of the martini glass, the crusty bread, and the attentive service (a rarity we have come to appreciate!). Then we wandered around a bit more before catching a cab back to the hotel, with hands-down the worst cabbie of all time: he almost hit another car seconds after picking us up, couldn't find his way even with a GPS unit, and seemed terrified to change lanes or exit/enter the freeway!

Sunday after breakfast we took ourselves to the Houston Aquarium, wandering through the interior exhibits (like the White Tigers) before going on a couple of the rides: a choo-choo train around the grounds and through the shark tunnel, and this ferris wheel with a breathtaking view of.... the freeway.

By noon we started walking around downtown, the sweat rolling down our backs from the simple act of strolling. We came across the Discovery Green, a space with water parks for kids, a pool for radio-controlled toy sail boats, and on this particular day a Green farmer's market where we picked up a container of Blue Heron Farm's chevre (their motto is Spoiled Goats, Fresh Cheese) and a rustic baguette for lunch.

Then we checked into the Comfort Suites in nearby Stafford, TX where Doug's training would be. After a refreshing dip in the pool and a nap, off we went to Las Haciendas restaurant, where the portions were decidedly more Tex than Mex and the margaritas were (hiccup!) soaked in Grand Marnier.

Monday was my day to give a talk to the members of the Houston Aviation Alliance at the Hilton Hobby Airport, so at 9am I went to get my rental (a cute red Toyota Yaris) and an hour later I was on the freeway headed east. I only got a little lost - especially compared with our cabbie who had a GPS - but I made it alive and on time. The group was very welcoming and asked me some great questions afterwards. While Houston is far too big a city and too hot and humid for my tastes, I wish I could be there this October and November for the airshows and other events!

After the talk I was escorted by two of my handsome lunch companions, Col. Van Skiles and Col. Don Outler, to a small hangar where they and many other volunteers have been painstakingly restoring a B-17 bomber named Texas Raiders over the past 7 years at a cost of $800,000.

As you can see, I even climbed up into the plane - in high heels no less! I couldn't get over how tight the fit was. And they tell me 10 crew would be in the aircraft at a time - at a maximum weight of 120lbs apiece. Jockeys of the air!

Wednesday I was on my way back home, having left Doug behind, so that I could prepare for my appearance at the Wyoming Book Festival on the other side of the state in Cheyenne on Saturday the 19th. I was one of the "lesser" writers (i.e. not one of the well-knowns) and so was part of the authors' fair under this canopy. I had the first slot in the morning and it was a little quiet, but I did get to chat with some folks.

When my time was up I wandered over to the 'big stage' where two of Wyoming's literary darlings - Craig Johnson and Margaret Coel - had decided to combine their slots and do a conversation rather than a presentation. It was magical! They had great chemistry and spoke candidly about their inspiration, their struggles with writing about cultures not their own, etc.

After their talk, one of the festival organizers came over and told me that I could have a slot between the 'big names' on the main stage. So at 11:45am I grabbed the mike and literally got my 15 minutes. The crowd wasn't very big because most people had followed Craig and Margaret into the book signing building (or Clifford the Big Red Dog to the children's tent), but I still had some friendly faces looking back at me from the grass.

So Cheyenne didn't give me "the boot" (which is how they joked I pronounced 'about') but rather adopted me as one of their own. And the Houstonians gave me a true down-home, very warm, southern welcome. Doesn't get much better than that!

A Week of Waiting Rooms

This past Sunday, September 6, 2009, my wonderful mother-in-law, Dawn Kenny, passed away. Last November this upbeat, energetic woman was diagnosed with an exceedingly rare form of cancer, cholangiocarcinoma (bile duct cancer) at the age of 48. There has been no shortage of exclamations from friends and family: "It's so unfair!" "How can it be?!" But rule #1 on the playground is life's not fair.

Doug and I managed to get back to Ottawa before she died. Doug was in the oilfield when my father-in-law called to say Dawn had been moved to the ICU, and it was a frantic 24 hours trying to arrange flights, get Riker into the kennel, get Doug back home, and cancel our holiday plans (we were booked for a hiking trip in Oregon and Washington). Saturday the 29th we sat waiting for our flights from Rock Springs to Salt Lake, then SLC to Denver, then on to Ottawa in busy concourses filled with people, noise, and light. The whole time we were zombies, emotionally and physically exhausted, worried about what we'd find at the other end.

Sunday we went to the ICU at the Ottawa General (my first time in one) and spent hours in another kind of waiting room: this one with dim lights, chairs clustered together for anxious families, a tv droning in the background in an attempt to distract young children from the fact that a loved one had a 40% chance of leaving the unit alive.

By Tuesday we were up in the fifth floor waiting room - plush leather couches huddled in a small room just outside the oncology wing. There were magazines and newspapers people stared at but didn't read. There was a desk with a solitary phone because cells were not allowed. From time to time tearful individuals went in to to use it, saying things like "We need to make arrangements."

The following Sunday we were back in stiff airport chairs, hours after we'd gotten the 4:30am phone call. The wait was over.

This morning I walked the dog past the First Assembly of God Church and noticed they'd changed the sign out front from the last time I'd gone by. Appropriately, it said something along the lines of "Suffering is an education that should not be ignored." In my short time on this planet, I've certainly learned a few things: it should hurt when someone you love dies; we are all capable of withstanding and overcoming great pain; and you really can't appreciate life's exquisite moments without sadness.

From Dawn in life, I learned about joy and joie de vivre. In death, she's still teaching me.

KENNY-PAGNUTTI, Dawn Adele (nee Atkins) (July 10, 1960 - September 6, 2009) Dawn Adele Kenny (nee Atkins) did not live with moderation. She loved fully, laughed loudly, traveled extensively, and was happiest when surrounded by friends, family, good food and wine. Dawn was also an accomplished shopper - whether at snappy boutiques or garage sales - and collected everything from nutcrackers to tea pots to shoes. So much of what she bought or made (she painted, knit, crocheted and refinished furniture) went to loved ones, but she gave most generously of her time and enthusiasm, which she shared with many as a volunteer at local schools, Vintage Wings of Canada, and other places.

She will be remembered for her willingness to try new things (like hip hop dancing in her mid 40's), her fondness for lipstick, and her seemingly boundless energy. Her sons, husband, sisters, parents, grandfather, nieces, nephews, cousins, in-laws (or outlaws as they were often called), friends and cats will all miss her.

In keeping with her personality and as per her wishes, a Funeral will not be held, but rather a celebration of life party will occur at a future date. Friends and family members will be invited and a notice will be sent out by email and posted in this newspaper. The family asks that no food or flowers be sent to the house. People are invited to give a donation in her name to the Canadian Cancer Society and can bring pink flowers when they attend the upcoming party. Thank you to the dedicated and caring staff at the Ottawa General Hospital's fifth floor, ICU and Cancer Centre

Backpacking, Bubba's BBQ, the Bunnery and one Sassy Moose

After our escape from misery Sunday afternoon, we checked into the Grand Targhee Ski resort, which was the perfect place to hang all our gear to dry, work our boots over with a hair dryer, do some laundry, and catch up on sleep. Never mind that the restaurant was closed Monday-Wednesday, the hot tub was on the fritz, and one of the beds had stained linens: it was warm and dry and we didn't worry about mucking it up with our gear!

Sunday night, after awakening from our nap, we were like bears emerging from hibernation: hangry (def. angry because hungry). We drove 15 minutes to Driggs expecting to find a plethora of choices but instead found that this largely Mormon town had basically shut down Sunday evening. So we kept driving to Victor, another 10 minutes down the road. We stopped in at the Grand Teton Brewing Co. thinking there might be some pub grub, but they don't serve food.

Back to Driggs we went, eventually finding Tony's Pizza and Pasta, which was perfect. There was a salad, pizza, and pasta buffet for $10 and we ordered a "flight of beer" of seven sample-sized local beers (our faves were the hard-to-get GTBC Organic Au Naturale and Snake River Pale Ale). Then for dessert they had warm cinnamon buns. After committing carbicide (i.e. death by carbohydrates) we drifted sleepily back to the hotel and soon passed out.

The next day was our "townie" day, which started with a hearty breakfast and great coffee at the Milk Creek Grill in Driggs. Then we headed into Jackson for some people-watching, window shopping (too expensive and kitschy to do much else), and to find the world-renowned Bunnery. Since we'd had a late breakfast, we thought we'd skip on lunch and just subsist on a generous serving of their Very Berry Pie and Caramel Chocolate Cheesecake. Oh... my... God....

We drove to our next B&B in a sugar coma, which might help explain why we couldn't find it right away (well, that and the GPS coordinates were wrong and I forgot to bring the address). We finally found the Sassy Moose Inn, a lovely place with views of the Tetons. While we received an enthusiastic greeting by the owners' black lab, Cher, the owners themselves were nowhere to be found. The building was unlocked, though, and we found our room, unloaded our stuff and gave the owner a call on his cell phone to let him know we'd arrived. It turned out their style is very hands off: the wife of the team came into the house to make breakfast the next morning and then they both promptly left, never checking in with us about our stay or saying goodbye (or refilling the coffee pot)! We're pretty self-sufficient people, though, and made the most of the outdoor hot tub at dusk which had lots of buttons for Doug to push (and from which I saw my first shooting star)!

We were a little nervous heading out into the backcountry again (see previous post) but felt fortified after our two nights in real beds and the pound of meat from Bubba's Bar-B-Que we'd ingested the night before. That, and the weather forecast looked much more promising.

We took the winding mountain pass from Jackson back over to Idaho and headed up to the Teton Canyon Campground just past Alta, WY where we parked at the Alaska Basin/Table Mountain trailhead in the Jedediah Smith Wilderness. We piled on the sunscreen and bug dope, changed into our hiking boots, and started in on the trail at the same time as another couple in their early 60's who live in Jackson and were out for the day. We hiked the first five (gradually ascending) miles with them, through beautiful meadows, exchanging travel stories/tips along the way. We even stopped and had our lunches together next to the river.

At around 5.5 miles up the trail we parted ways. They just had day packs and had to hike back before their food, water, and energy ran out. So we said goodbye and then Doug and I did our best tight-rope walker impression across this "bridge" before continuing up.


We'd read in the trail guide that it was at this point the hike started to get a little stiffer, and that proved true. By mile 6 we could really feel the weight in our packs and the sweat pouring down our backs. With the help of some snacks and stubbornness, we made it to the top of the Alaska Basin by around 4 p.m. (total elevation gain of 2,400 ft), but it took another 45 minutes of hunting for a campsite before we were satisfied that we had the ideal mix of solitude, breeze to keep the bugs at bay, and level ground.

We cleaned up, filled our reserves with filtered water from the nearby creek, and rested for a bit. Then we made our freeze-dried Caribbean beans and rice which we enjoyed with these mini bottles of Shiraz and an appetizer of jalapeno almonds.

The flies and mosquitoes were a nuisance in the Alaska Basin, even as late as August, likely because of the alpine lakes and the wet spring/early summer. But this time I was better prepared: head nets and lots of DEET (the wine didn't hurt either)!

Alaska Basin at sunset

The next morning we got our breakfast and instant mocha mix together, then packed a bag with day supplies to tackle the climb to Hurricane Pass (another 1000 ft elevation gain, up to 10,500 ft). I'd read that this side trip was definitely worth the effort, but that if you could ditch your heavy gear first you'd probably enjoy it more. So up the steep switchbacks we went, then down into the valley that held beautiful Sunset Lake, then up again to Hurricane Pass and the Schoolroom Glacier. We passed a lot of other backpackers on the way, laden with gear since this is part of a popular trail back into Teton National Park, and they were very jealous of our light load.

Me near the top of Hurricane Pass, with Battleship Mountain to my left and Meek Mountain behind me (Doug carried the pack up).

Doug climbed down the loose rock to stand on Schoolroom Glacier. There are so many times on these hikes that you feel really, really small.

We didn't see any 'mega-fauna' on this trip (i.e. no bears, moose, elk, etc) but lots of plump Marmots, whose little tails do a funny clockwise propeller motion when they run.

Unlike our hikes to Adobe Town and other desert locales, water was not an issue in the Alaska Basin. We had our trusty filtration system and emergency iodine drops. So we were good to go, dysentry and giarda-free!

This backcountry adventure was a two-night affair, so after doing the 5-mile trip to Hurricane Pass, we had a quick snooze and lunch and then packed up our gear to continue down the trail. Doug had told me we wouldn't be doing much elevation gain, but that was false: we had some pretty stiff uphills over switchbacks for the first mile or two, but then it did level out once we had reached the top of the ridge, thus saving our marriage.

We popped "magic skittles" to fuel us (no, not pyschedelic drugs but actual skittles that I tried to imbue with magic properties to keep one foot moving in front of the other) and kept slogging forward through the sub-alpine meadows, a little blind to the beauty around us. While the meadows were gorgeous, they didn't make for great campsites, so it took us quite a while to find someplace that might work. In the meantime, we'd had to load up on water because our GPS indicated our path diverged from any water source for quite some time. It's always great to have to add an extra 8+ pounds to your pack near the end of a long, tiring day!

Doug did find a good spot where someone else had trampled the meadow, and I was so tired that I passed out for two hours before dinner. Then we ate our dinner, drank the last of our Shiraz, and passed out once again.

Our final morning, we awoke in great spirits, knowing that in a few short hours we would be back in Ellie on the road home to a shower. First, though, we were going to stop for burgers in Pinedale and Moose Mania ice cream at the general store in Farson along highway 191, otherwise known as the Jonah 500 because people drive it so fast.

First we had to tackle the Devil's Staircase, though, which was pretty hard on the knees and a little nerve-wracking. We made it down in one piece and quickly walked the final two miles to the parking lot, passing lots of fresh-faced people just starting their hikes into this amazing spot, feeling pretty proud of ourselves.

The Luxury and the Misery

After Doug suffered through two gruelling weeks of being out at various rigs (we figured he slept at home 3 nights out of 14), I whisked him off on a trip to Jackson Hole in northwestern Wyoming and Teton Valley in eastern Idaho.

On Friday the 7th we headed up to Pinedale with a friend of ours, Andria, and her two dogs, Belle and Chase. It was a beautiful, sunny day and perfect for the day hike we had planned in the gorgeous Wind River Mountains (a range within the Rockies). After trying to figure out which trailhead to start from, we ended up on the Pole Creek Trail that leaves from Elkhart Park in the Bridger-Teton National Forest. It's a popular trail with day-trippers like us and backcountry campers, so we weren't worried about bears, just about slipping in the poop left behind by the numerous Llamas being used as pack animals for campers.

After a couple of hours we stopped for lunch at this picturesque overlook. Andria was kind enough to share her gourmet lunch fixings like pine nut hummus, wasa crackers, and peaches. I had a generous hunk of white chocolate/lemon/mint bread from the farmer's market that I contributed and we feasted like kings. Then we headed back to the trailhead where Andria embarked on her two hour drive back home with a Llama poo-covered dog (why do dogs enjoy rolling in excrement?) and Doug and I booted it north to the swanky mountain town of Jackson, where our B&B awaited us.

Jackson is an incredibly expensive place to live and play, and July-August is peak season. Doug and I don't mind paying a little extra for a special experience, but in a place like Jackson the Best Western costs you $230/night and the nicer places can run $400-$500/night. Luckily I've got some experience hunting up deals and found us the most amazing place to stay at a 40% discount because we squeezed into a one-night spot between reservations. I had high expectations for The Bentwood Inn after poring over the website and it did not disappoint.

We arrived at 5pm pretty grubby after our hike, but the co-manager, Peter, welcomed us warmly and gave us a quick tour of the Great Room (above), the breakfast area (home-baked chocolate chip cookies available 24/7), and showed us to our lovely room (below) complete with Scandinavian Inglenook bed, jetted tub, private balcony, and gas fireplace. After we cleaned up, we enjoyed their nightly wine (imported from the Republic of Georgia) and cheese (and fruit, and crackers...) in the Great Room while chatting with the other guests.

After some discussion about dinner options, we decided to go to the Snake River Brewing Co. in Jackson, which I'd heard had some great microbrews. It was packed full of outdoorsy-people but it didn't take long for them to find us a table. By then we'd already grabbed a Zonker Stout (Doug) and a Hoback Hefeweizen (me). Then we had to decide what food would complement our ales. Doug picked a unique pizza: bbq sauce, grilled peaches, italian sausage, and goat cheese. Once he was able to shift his "pizza paradigm" he enjoyed it quite a bit. I had their award-winning buffalo chili and a chunk of corn bread. Delicious!

I could see Doug starting to come back to life after his exhausting stint in the field. After a 10-hour sleep in the cozy room and an incredible three-course breakfast replete with what I have dubbed Beavertail Coffeecake and a sundried tomato and goat cheese omelet, we were ready to head out into the wilderness and rough it for a couple of days.

First we had to decide where we were going. The original plan was to go to the Alaska Basin on the western edge of Grand Teton National Park for a one-nighter and then to Yellowstone National Park for a two nighter at the end of our trip, but I had glimpsed in the local newspaper that Yellowstone was in the midst of its busiest season in decades: 900,000 people in July alone. There was also major road construction going on that was causing long delays. We both agreed that we did not feel like dealing with those hassles during our relaxing getaway.

So we changed things up. We drove the mountain pass through to the Teton Valley - formerly known as Pierre's Hole - on the Idaho side. Then we went north of Driggs along a one-lane dirt road into the Targhee-Caribou National Forest where we parked and embarked on what we hoped to be our first successful overnight backpacking trip to Green Lake.

The hike started well enough. We knew there was a good chance of rain and that it was going to be chilly in this alpine region, but we felt we were prepared. Lugging our bags up the steady incline was challenging, but we were well-rested, well-fed and in good spirits. We enjoyed the views, the beautiful alpine meadows, and chatted amiably with the sparse groups of folks we encountered.

Then the drizzle started. No problem, we though, just a scotch mist. Then it started coming down harder, turning the dirt path into a muddy stream and coating the wildflowers so that brushing up against them soaked our pants nearly up to our waists. Then the rain turned to freezing rain, then to hail, then to wet snow. By the time our three-hour, 2000-ft climb ended at Green Lake, I was so cold, wet and tired that I didn't even bother to rock-hop across a stream: I just waded through it. My boots were soaked anyways!

We set up camp as quickly as possible in the cold rain, struggling because our fingers were numb. Then we ditched our wet clothes under the rainfly, towelled off as best we could and piled on whatever dry clothes we had before bundling into our sleeping bags. It was about 3pm but Doug passed out for two hours. I was too cold to sleep so tried my best to distract myself with M&Ms and a book I'd brought along, Jenny of the Tetons.

It was an appropriate book, set in the 1870s in the Teton Mountains. And I felt silly about putting myself through potential hypothermia and privation on purpose when Jenny, Beaver Dick Leigh and their family had to deal with it for survival. In any event, I finished the book by the time Doug had woken up and the rain had abated. It was time to venture forth to make a fire and dinner but our boots were still soaked so Doug fashioned himself some ziplock booties and I wrapped my dry socks as best I could with tied-up garbage bag pieces and we gingerly put the boots back on.

Then we went in search of dry wood (quite the feat) to make a fire in an attempt to dry our clothes. The next step was to try and light it, but while our matches were waterproof the boxes (and strike pads) were not. After finally striking them successfully, then the toilet paper did not want to catch. In desperation, I started ripping non-essential pages from Jenny of the Tetons, which lit beautifully. I figured a Shoshone woman and a pioneer woman would both encourage the action. The fire didn't manage to dry our clothes despite our best efforts, but its warmth and cheeriness dispelled some of our gloom. As did our freeze-dried Louisiana Red Beans and Rice with lots of hot sauce.

It started raining again during the night, water pooling on the rain fly and dripping into the tent. It was perhaps the coldest night I've ever spent, and the next morning we awoke to hail around the tent and a light coating of snow on the ridge above Green Lake. We broke camp as quickly as possible, scarfing a granola bar for breakfast. We knew that as soon as we got dressed and got out we would need to start moving to stay warm. I put on as many top layers as possible: t-shirt, hoodie, fleece, rain jacket. Our only dry bottoms were shorts, though, which in the end we decided might be better in the sodden meadows anyway.

We power-marched it back to the Element, fantasizing aloud about dry shoes, clothes, and the warm bed we'd be sleeping in that night at the Grand Targhee Ski Resort, but all the while trying not to kill ourselves in the muddy mess that had been the trail.

After catching our breath in Ellie, enjoying the feel of warmth and eating a lunch of jalapeno-cheddar bread, buffalo sausage, and chocolate pudding, we left the woods.

But the adventure was only half over...

Oystergrass and Bear River

Nothing says summer like an outdoor music festival, so when I heard there was a FREE one nearby some friends and I piled into a car and headed out for the afternoon. The Oyster Ridge Music Festival (known by those in the know as Oystergrass) is a three-day annual festival in Kemmerer, WY that brings together a variety of musicians, but mostly in the bluegrass, folk, and rock genres. Of course, it didn't hurt that the official beer provider was the New Belgium brewery out of Fort Collins, CO.

Julie, Kaylee, and I enjoying the sun and tunes.

We went Saturday, Aug 1st for the afternoon line-up. The first band, Mike Mangione and The Band, was fantastic and is the reason I enjoy music festivals: here was a group of musicians who write their own songs, incorporate a variety of instruments (cello! violin!) and have a great stage presence but aren't widely known yet. It's not often I buy CDs these days, but I went right up to the merchandise tent after their set and snapped one up (called Tenebrae - you can also get the songs through itunes). I can also say that we chatted with Mike and the bass player, John, and both were incredibly down-to-earth.

We also caught Sweet Sunny South, an old timey bluegrass band, and Town Mountain, a more modern bluegrass group. We really enjoyed that music as well and it provided a great ambience for chowing down on burgers and fries and checking out the vendors' wares.

A couple of days later I hit the road again, this time with Riker, to load up on freeze-dried food at REI in Salt Lake City for our camping trips, do some outlet shopping in Park City, and check out Bear River State Park near Evanston, WY. I'd passed the park on several occasions driving along the I-80 to and from Salt Lake, but never had the chance to stop. Its main feature is a captive herd of bison and elk that people can look at, but it also has paved pathways along the Bear River with picnic spots.

It was all a little too groomed and civilized for me and Riker, so we went tramping through the woods on little game trails and waded along the river. Along the way I startled this snake sunning itself on the warm river rocks.

After a long and busy day, my co-pilot conked out on me. Riker still believes he can fit in the front seat and insists on squishing in there, even though he has the whole back of Ellie to curl up in (including his orthopedic bed laid out back there). As Doug says, he's a bit of a momma's boy.

I think he just doesn't want to miss out on any possible people snacks...