Heading out

It rained yesterday, and today’s parting clouds reveal that snow has reached the tree line of the lower peaks. Our neighbor Bob came over in the morning drizzle to say goodbye before heading home to Utah. He’d seen the otters that have eluded us on this trip, while not even looking for them. That seems to be the way it is with wildlife spotting.
Our two weeks in the Grand Tetons have encompassed the beginnings, full-blown splendor and now, seemingly, the closing days of autumn. We arrived to the first touch of color in the trees and within a week brilliant yellow cottonwoods competed with orange-gold aspens and scarlet chokecherries in eye-popping brilliance. Now, already, some trees are bare and the increasingly chill wind brings a swirling shower of golden leaves fluttering to the ground.
Buffalo and serviceberries along trails have been browsed clean by bears, and we’ve noticed the tips of all the bull elks’ antlers are white, their surface probably worn down by constant sparring.
We shared a campfire the other night with Bob, who was here for a photography workshop at Yellowstone. While a coyote yipped nearby, he spoke of his frustration at not capturing what he wanted in his photographs, the clear skies depriving him of the Ansel Adams-style clouds he craves. Still, he was putting in long days, in search of that elusive Kodak moment everyone seeks in these parts. We wanted animals, he wanted clouds. We preferred the Tetons’ jagged peaks and sage meadows to Yellowstone’s fire-scarred forests and geothermal wonders.
We all agreed we were in a magical place.
We chatted about the high-altitude prices of real estate in the area, making those in Napa Valley pale in comparison. Even Dick Cheney is reportedly building in Idaho. “All the millionaires are leaving Jackson,” Bob said. “Only the billionaires can afford it.”
Snow is predicted Thursday. Most campgrounds in the park are closed, and ours will shut down in another week. Animals seem scarcer.
We took a last drive on Antelope Flats, then looped around the park. As we passed the Jackson Lake dam, Terry spotted it: a young grizzly heading our way. He crossed the road in front of us -- our grizzly moment. We saw him first. Within seconds, there was a mini bear jam, and within a minute he was gone. Such is the sheer improbability of being in the right place at the right second in time.
The elk are on the move, and so are we. Tomorrow we’re off to Montana and Idaho.