Tetons Redux

The first leg of the trip took us through Nevada, past Winnemuca and the billboard for the Pussycat Ranch (Jacuzzi. Massage. Truckers Welcome.) A sometimes-heavy rain lowered the snow level on the mountains and left the air heavy with the sweet scent of sage -- even in the Elko Walmart parking lot, where we spent the first night, dining on a caprese salad garnished with leaves from the traveling basil plant that accompanies us. A new route through Salt Lake City allowed us to avoid the steep mountain pass that taxed Happy's brakes last fall.
Just over 1050 miles brought us to our destination the second evening, the Gros Ventre campground in Grand Teton park. Miraculously, we were able to grab the same mountain-view campsite we had last fall, this time with a nesting robin in the tree outside the “kitchen” window. The scenic rivers are nearly unrecognizable, swollen to three or four times their size with muddy snowmelt, their currents strong enough to topple the sturdiest bison. We saw no animals on the road to the campground.
The cheery camp host told us there was a great horned owl nesting nearby and we found the nest cavity in a tree at dusk, thanks to a group of photographers with their foot-long telephoto lenses trained on the site. Two large babies with wise old faces peered from the nest, while the parent owl preened in a nearby tree. We immediately fell into the conversation du jour in this neck of the woods: what have you seen and where?
A photographer and his wife from Wisconsin filled us in, beginning with the always tantalizing tip of the pyramid: grizzlies and black bear, mostly in Yellowstone. Like nearly everyone we meet, they travel here more than once a year, with the sole intent of “shooting” wildlife. No one ever seems to be a professional, despite lots of very expensive equipment. They do it for the thrill, spending the day going back and forth on the roads most likely to produce a prize, then sometimes waiting for hours to get the shot.
I love the easy camaraderie of this place: it’s all about seeing wildlife in a spectacular setting and sharing tips with everyone else on where they can find it. Sort of a communal love-in for critter people. My idea of heaven.
The next morning, with low clouds hiding the base of the mountains, we set off on Antelope Flats road and soon spotted our first herd of bison, molting adults shedding their tattered winter coats and tan calves bedding down in the sage. We were reassured that the multitudes of animals we saw in the fall we still around – somewhere.
After a visit to Jackson Lake Lodge, which graciously provides wifi and spectacular views from its lobby, we headed back to camp, stopping at the Oxbow, where Grizzly 399 reportedly still lives with her offspring. There were no bear jams this time. The river now resembled a lake, the beaver we watched swimming was gone and the air was thick with mosquitoes.
We returned to camp at dusk, spotting elk, deer and fleet-footed pronghorn antelope on the way. Our new neighbor was Don, a retiree from Colorado who visits the park several times a year. He was packing up the telephoto for his camera – at least two feet long, it came in camo print. He told us where to find kit foxes, more owls soon to fledge and talked of the wolves in Lamar Valley, our next destination. He occupied the cozy Chalet camper alone, saying his wife had given up camping after 27 years of his wildlife photography.
Spectacular lightening displays illuminated the inky sky. Springtime in the mountains is sheer drama, with snow in the mountains and flowers in the meadows, and weather that changes from scorching mountain sunshine to pelting rain and back in minutes.
Dawn and dusk are the prime times for animals, and the next morning we adopted the photographers’ schedule, setting the alarm for 5 to be out spotting at first light. We were rewarded with a slice of cantaloupe-colored sky and the hulking apparition of a solitary bull bison, grazing in a field of yellow mules’ ears. More bison followed, the calves already treating the road as their birthright.
We’re beginning to feel affection for these implacable and sturdy beasts, who always provide wonderful photo opps, although they tend to give you the stink eye from the middle of the road. Elk were out in force, crossing the road nervously, and skittish antelope were just a tan-white blur as they sped out of sight. No signs of bear, although we learned they are active in Willow Flats, where they troll for newborn elk hidden in the thicket. This feeding window is a narrow one and the opportunistic bears seize it, since soon the calves will be as fleet-footed as their parents. Signs warned human visitors to stay clear.
Our bear lust disappointment was tempered by the sighting of a single sandhill crane, strolling majestically through a flock of Canadian geese, who reached only half the height of the rust-colored giant.
We had homemade gazpacho, bison meatloaf and mashed potatoes for dinner, raising a glass of Aussie Shiraz to toast the beast who provided both a delicious meal and countless photo opps.
Photos are found at: http://picasaweb.google.com/happytwo.mcwilliams/1Tetonblog09?authkey=Gv1sRgCP6I9ZauofCOKw&feat=directlink