Glacier Then and Now

September in Glacier is special. Cold mornings, cool nights and somewhat warmer days let you know change is in the air. We've been coming to Glacier National Park for nearly 30 years and the Park is certainly far more crowded than we remember from the "good old days", whatever that means. There's an ad running for I think some brand of ice cream who's tag line is "The good old days are being made right now" set to a catchy jingle. I cringe when I hear it because I can't imagine anyone looking back on the Covid pandemic as "the good old days" but I give kudos for a clever advertising campaign.

When we first came to Glacier it seemed there were more bears than people. We'd head up to Logan Pass at the top of the Going to the Sun road as evening set in to watch for bears in the open landscape above timberline. More often than not we'd catch sight of a grizzly meandering through the nearly empty parking lot itself before crossing over to the Highline Trail. Now I don't think a bear of any size could squeeze between the cars sardined into the parking lot even as the sun goes down and the stars begin to shine. On our first couple of trips to the park hardly a day would go by without a bear sighting, sometimes multiple in one day. This trip we've seen one lone bruin high up on a rocky slope as we were descending from the Pass. I guess the rule of inverse proportionality is in effect - this trip everyone is carrying bear spray, and it seems no one is seeing a bear, where back in the day bear spray was still new and largely unproven and you really had to keep a sharp eye out for big furry critters coming down the trail.

On our first trip to Glacier we took a shuttle up to Logan Pass at the crack of dawn where they dropped us off with hardly another soul around. Our plan was to hike the Highline Trail to the Granite Park Chalet, spend the night, then continue down to Swift Current where we had left our car. I remember it was cold and dreary as we started out and we couldn't have seen a bear if it bit us through the fog but as the day warmed up the clouds lifted and the trail was bathed in bright sunshine. We were carrying backpacks as the Granite Park Chalet was fairly rustic and you needed to bring your own sleeping bag and food (nowadays I understand they provide food service and linens for a fee for those preferring to hike unencumbered by a pack). It wasn't too long before faster day hikers caught up to us and let us know that they had closed the trail behind us due to bear activity near Logan Pass. We couldn't have returned to the Pass if we had wanted to. As we kept hiking (its a several hour hike to Granite Park Chalet) we noticed a group of folks who had passed us earlier all standing together nervously eying the trail ahead of them. Someone in their party had seen a grizzly off the side of the trail so there we were stuck between bears behind us and now bears in front of us. Back then I don't think any of us were carrying that newfangled stuff called bear spray so the only recourse we had was to continue hiking to the Chalet as a larger group and make as much noise as we could to let the grizzly ahead of us know where we were hoping he or she would stay clear.

Suffice it to say we all made it safely to Granite Park and settled in for a beautiful evening watching the sun set to the west. The Chalet had a nice second floor deck from which tourists used to throw food scraps to bears who had become acclimatized to handouts. That ended pretty quickly when a couple of campers at the adjacent Granite Park campground were attacked by a bear on August 12, 1967. Two young women were killed and a man mauled (if you're curious, Google Night of the Grizzlies or read the book of the same name by Jack Olsen). I came across the book at the Chalet the evening we stayed there and read the harrowing account of what happened which is why to this day I'll never camp at the Granite Park campground even though the events chronicled in the book are more than fifty years in the past. 

One interesting thing did occur during our stay. Darkness had settled over the Chalet when we saw several miles back on the Highline Trail a little pinprick of light bobbing in the gloom. We asked a ranger who was stationed at the Chalet what the light was and he said, in a not-too-pleased voice, that he was going to have to go see for himself. He dutifully set off in the pitch black with a flashlight and a crowd of us watched his light slowly make its way back along the trail toward the other light still bobbing in the distance. Eventually the two lights met a mile or two away from the Chalet and then both lights made their way back towards us. Eventually the ranger arrived with a solitary hiker in tow. The hiker had apparently ignored the bear closure signs at the top of the Pass and thought he could hike to the Chalet then back down to the Going to the Sun road before darkness caught him. When the ranger intercepted him he was using a little penlight to follow the trail and to make noise he was holding his car keys and jangling them ahead of him as he walked! The ranger was livid but had no choice but to put the errant day hiker up for the night (he slept on the cold hard stone floor) before rousing him at the first sign of daylight and sending him down the trail to the road with a stern warning not to repeat his prank again. This year the smart grizzly would likely have distanced themselves as far away from the crowds on the Highline as possible. 

Your Red Bus awaits!

One thing we did this trip that we had not done before was take one of the Red Bus tours that has been shuttling tourists through the Park since the 1930's. Our driver, Rich, was a treasure trove of information and we lucked out by having beautiful weather during our tour. It was in the 30's when we set out but seemed to get warmer as we and the sun got higher and it wasn't too long before Rich stopped and rolled back the fabric roof allowing for an even more stunning perspective of the park. I was just happy to leave the driving to someone else as taking your own vehicle to the top demands you pay close attention to a steep, narrow, and winding road (for those familiar with Colorado, think the west side of Independence Pass).

Just outside the northwest boundary of Glacier National Park lies the little town of Polebridge, Montana. We had visited Polebridge more than twenty years ago so were curious to see the changes that the intervening decades had wrought. In the early '90's Polebridge was a forgotten backwater hamlet that few tourists ventured to see. The road back then was dirt (it still is) and rough (now well maintained, as far as dirt roads go) so it took some effort to visit. Polebridge today has, like so many places, been 'discovered' and we were surprised (though we shouldn't have been - after all we are from Colorado!) by the number of new homes all along the road. The town itself still has a funky vibe that almost feels Alaskan with fancy new homes sitting side by side Yurts, old cabins and all sorts of off-the-grid accommodations. 

The Polebridge Mercantile was doing a booming business and we treated ourselves to some of the delights from the bakery (huckleberry bread, huckleberry brownies, etc. - Yum!) and sat on the adjacent picnic tables watching loose horses graze within petting distance. We asked the locals what was generating all the new growth since our last visit and were told that Canadians from Alberta and British Columbia had snatched up  lot of the property pre-Covid at rock-bottom prices before Montanans realized the value of what was in their own back yard. I'd love to see Polebridge in the winter as the view from the town is as good as any you'll get within the Park. And yes, on several mornings the high peaks were featuring a fresh new blanket of snow and freeze warnings at lower elevations were becoming the norm. 

Well, this turned out to be a somewhat long-winded post so I'll sign off for now. Until next time, safe travels!

On the Road Again

 Willie had it right when he penned his famous hit:

On the road again

Goin' places that I've never been

Seein' things that I may never see again

And I can't wait to get on the road again

We arrived in Glacier National Park two days ago escaping the heat and crowds of our home State of Colorado for the cool and somewhat-fewer-crowds of this far north National Park nestled in the northwest corner of Big Sky Country, Montana. We took three days coming up with overnights in Casper, Wyoming (great food at "The Hangar" restaurant) and Great Falls. The west winds they were a'blowin' and the camper they were a'slowin' to the tune of eking out a whopping 8 miles to the gallon on the westerly stretches of pavement. Gas in these parts is around $3.29-3.39/gallon and there are some stretches where the pumps are few and far (very far) between which made it tough to keep a half-a-tank cushion but we made it in good order. When we left Denver temps were setting records in the high 90's; up here its long pants and sweatshirt weather and many of the trees are boasting Fall colors in all their splendor already.

We're "camping" at the West Glacier KOA which has been rated the Number One KOA campground for more years than they can count. It's a full service resort for the RV crowd of which I'm now one, at least for the next three weeks, and features full service restaurant, two beautiful swimming pools (one for the kiddos and one for us adults), hot tubs, gift shop (20-40% off end of season specials!), and two gorgeous dog parks featuring lush green grass (how many dog parks have that?) that we can hardly get our two huskies out of. 

They tell us the Park continues to set visitation records even in September but coming from Colorful (and crowded) Colorado we haven't been cramped at all, at least so far. As in our July jaunt to the Tetons we seek out the roads less traveled specifically to avoid the masses. Yesterday we took a beautiful half-day trip to the Canadian border crossing north of the little town of Polebridge. Its a rough dirt road in spots, but the views along the way looking east into Glacier Park are amazing and the farther north we got the fewer and fewer folks there were. In the last half hour of the drive to the border only one car passed us and that was a Border Patrol truck that we let go by as he clearly had places to go and no one to see. This particular border crossing is somewhat unique in that it hasn't actually been open to crossing since the 90's. In fact, on the Canadian side you can still see the Border Crossing 

building now sadly falling into disrepair. On the U.S. side our tax dollars are still hard at work with a nice Customs and Immigration Building (with new solar panels being installed) and a helicopter that flew in while we were there delivering one passenger and two cylinders of propane. Other than that it was just my wife and I, our two dogs, and a handful of Border Patrol Agents enjoying what has got to be one of the cushiest postings ICE offers. I can only imagine that compared to their brethren working the southern border this post must feel like an extended vacation. When we left for the long jaunt back we waved at the helicopter pilot and one of the Border Patrol Agents as they tossed a football back and forth as the sun set behind them. 

My wife and I have been to Glacier many times over the last 30 plus years of wedded bliss. When we first started coming the Park had not been 'discovered' and featured some of the lowest visitation of any national park. Back then it felt there were more grizzlies than people. Now, on the local radio station, they advertise for people looking to harvest free fruit (apples mainly) from peoples yards to help avoid bear/people conflicts as the ursine set moseys in to take advantage of the smorgasbord all the new transplants (of the human variety) have laid out. 

Ordinarily many of the positions in and around the Park would be staffed by young folk hailing from all over the world coming over to spend the summer working in America's national playgrounds. Thanks to COVID there were no J-1 Visas the last two years and the sad reality is that there were not enough Americans needing work to fill the myriad positions available. For example, we went to a Qdoba restaurant last night for an early dinner. As we were leaving at about 5 o'clock a couple was trying to come in but the doors were locked. The Qdoba was closing because they didn't have the staff to handle the dinner crowd. Closer to the Park many of the restaurants and gift shops are shuttered not because its the end of the season but because they couldn't find enough staff to stay open.

We went kayaking on McDonald Lake at the crack-o-dawn and the lakes up here are a paddlers paradise. The water is so clear you can see fish and colorful stones on the bottom to depths of 20 to 30 feet. Like most western States, there is mandatory boat inspection for invasive species but in the Park the process is quick and easy and before you know it you've got a bright yellow tag flapping off the back of your kayak as you make your own ripples on the still pristine lakes in the area.

Well, that's enough for now. Its almost dinner time for me and the bears so I'll sign off and join my four footed friends in the search for fresh huckleberries. Mmm, Mmmm, Mmmmm...

Of Buttes and...

Had a chance to daytrip over to the eclectic town of Crested Butte. What used to be little Crested Butte is 'little' no more as the amount of new development is staggering. Still, downtown CB is as funky as ever as you'll see in the video below. CB has made most of their downtown a one-way street which is an improvement but why they don't just turn it into pedestrian (and cyclist too!) only is beyond me. So few cars can actually park downtown that it really makes not a lot of sense to try to funnel heavy vehicular traffic into the area and the traffic headed up Kebler Pass could be moved a block over but that's just my humble opinion. Still, CB is too nice a town to not stretch the legs, gawk at all the fun shops, peek in at the Mountain Bike Museum and grab some delicious food.

We had traveled up and over Monarch Pass and of course stopped at the summit to see what was new at the Crest House which is always chock full of fun souvenirs, gifts, and trinkets for those so inclined. You can also take a trip via gondola up to the tip-top of the summit and if you're into mountain biking or hiking you probably already know the joys of the Monarch Crest Trail. There's also a great, relatively short hike over to Old Monarch Pass that starts just to the west side of the highway.

Monarch Pass is beautiful in the summer but can be pure terror in the winter. My better half spent a couple of years teaching at Western State College (now Western Colorado University) and I used to make a weekly commute come the weekend from Denver to Gunnison. I can remember passing semitrailers who were literally sliding backward down the Pass, their wheels spinning uselessly against the dual effects of gravity and a snowy road. As I sped by at 5 m.p.h., thankful to at least still be moving in a forward direction, I could only wish them luck as they disappeared in the whiteout conditions. This trip we had a much nicer day though you still needed a sweatshirt or coat to keep you warm at the top. 

Gunnison is a neat town in its own right even though on this trip we passed right through on our way up-valley. Gunnison used to have a wonderful book store. Don't know for sure if its still there but if it is I promise I'll stop in the next time through. Ride The Rockies, that perennial bicycle tour of Colorado, often stops in Gunnison and some of my best night's sleep have been zonked out in a tent at the middle school after a long day in the saddle pretending to be a cyclist. 

Fall in the Gunnison Valley is perhaps my favorite time of year though sometimes it only seems to last a week or two as the weather in these parts can change faster than my wife's mind. Catch it on a warm Indian summer day with the Aspen changing and you're in for a real treat. Though this day the Aspen were just starting to show some of their glorious gold, give it a couple of weeks and they'll be in their prime. Just don't blink or you'll miss it.

A lot of Texas folk call Crested Butte their second, third, or fourth home and Texas license plates do seem to outnumber the green and white of Colorado the closer you get to CB. There's lots of new construction going on and if its been several years since you've been you might struggle to recognize the CB of old. But its still there if you look hard enough though how long it will last is anyone's guess. CB is still mountain biking Mecca and I could only drool at the two-wheeled steeds zipping through town on their way to some of the best riding in the world. Here too e-bikes are becoming more popular though thus far they are not allowed on the area's single track trails. 

There's some good eatin' in CB, that's for sure. We ate outside under an umbrella as a passing thunderstorm soaked the streets but that's just part of the experience in Crested Butte. And with food that good, who really cares? Not me...

Too soon it was time to hit the trail, or at least Highway 135, as we made our way to the turnoff to Taylor Park Reservoir with plans to head back to Buena Vista over Cottonwood Pass which was fully paved (to some folks delight and other's chagrin) just a couple of years ago. Its probably a prettier drive than going over Monarch Pass and besides it makes a nice (though long) loop for a day's outing. And on a day like we had with nary a cloud in the sky, the views are stupendous. Cottonwood Pass also cuts a considerable amount of miles versus the longer route back to Gunnison and over Monarch if you're headed to Buena Vista where we had a planned rendezvous with some adorable four-legged friends. Stopping in at the Jumping Good Country Store and Goat Dairy we learned all about making delicious goat cheese but it was the critters we had come to see and they did not disappoint.

Not having spent much time among goats I was pleasantly surprised at how friendly they could be. My mother-in-law, who joined us on this trip, wanted desperately to take one of the baby goats home with her but we prevailed upon her to eventually bid them adieu. Tours are available ($8/adults, $5/kids over age 2) and the time spent in with the goats is priceless. 

Anyway, here's some of what we saw in this whirlwind of a day. Oh, and if you're thinking you are not that much of a goat cheese aficionado, that's o.k. - just try the goat milk fudge! As my friends from Texas say -Mmmm, Mmmm, Mmmm.

Back to Basics

 The world's a complicated place, no doubt about it. And things don't appear to be getting any simpler.

My wife can hardly watch the news anymore and while I'm a professed news-junkie there are days I can understand where she's coming from. 

For me, my escape from the world with a capital "W" is more often than not found in the great outdoors - usually high in the mountains or far back in the woods. Places my wife refers to as 'the middle of nowhere' but I'll take the 'middle of nowhere' over 'somewhere' most any day of the week. 

I don't get the chance to visit the 'middle of nowhere' as frequently as I would like and generally find myself 'somewhere' along with tens, hundreds, or thousands of my fellow human beings. Not one for crowds, I chafe when surrounded by people. I've never been lonely out in 'the middle of nowhere' but let me tell you I've felt alone in a crowd more times than I can count.

It's getting tough, at least in Colorado, to seek out and find the 'middle of nowhere'. Traffic on our major mountain corridor - Interstate 70 - is now as busy on weekdays as it used to be  on weekends just a year or two ago and I-70 now is a 'somewhere' I'd rather not be. I drove down to Denver along I-70 this morning from the 'middle of nowhere' after spending a couple of days camping with my wife and two pooches. My apologies in advance for not telling you exactly where this 'middle of nowhere' is because if I told you it would suddenly be 'somewhere' and there are too few places like it remaining.

By contrast, I was up mountain biking a week ago with my wife on the road that starts at Clear Creek Reservoir just south of Twin Lakes. It winds and climbs to the old mining towns of Vicksburg and Winfield. Its a rough dirt road full of potholes and rocky sections but offers some beautiful scenery. This road is now definitely 'somewhere' and even in the middle of the week there was a steady stream of campers and RV's bouncing up over the rocks and through the dust to boondock in spots where signs of the previous human occupants was in more than abundant evidence. All that toilet paper that folks have been hoarding during the pandemic? I swear most of it has ended up in our national forests and campgrounds. Definitely not the 'middle of nowhere'. So again, apologies for not identifying my 'middle of nowhere', but suffice it to say I never saw a quilted piece of two-ply lying on the ground. 

When I was growing up one went through an evolution as a camper. As a wee little tyke I roughed it in a pup tent in the wooly wilds of our backyard. From there I graduated to camping in the real woods with my parents - car camping with just a tent, stove, and sleeping bags. Tents back then weren't very good and the likelihood of returning home soaked and/or frozen were high but that was all part of the adventure. When I got married I took my new bride camping 'somewhere' in the Indian Peaks wilderness (not so much wilderness anymore) to introduce her to the joys of sleeping in a sodden sleeping bag while the rain banged on the not-so-waterproof fabric of the tent. To her credit she helped me quickly (VERY quickly) evolve to the next level of camping featuring a 'real' (and at the time very expensive) dome tent from the good folks at REI. 

A new level of
Pack it In/Pack it Out

Still, we were sleeping on the good hard ground, albeit on fancy new inflatable camping pads, but I could still get that sensation of sloshing around in a wet sleeping bag whenever I forgot, or opted not, to put the now-actually-waterproof fly on the tent. As we got older and the ground seemed to get harder my camping evolution continued (thank you honey!) and we graduated to a pop-up camper which took us to Alaska (now there's the real 'middle of nowhere') and back and this summer we went to the Tetons in an - can I bring myself to say it? - RV. Its really, really hard to experience that wet, frozen sensation of camping outside in the elements when ensconced in a Travel Trailer or Fifth Wheel, but hey, for the sake of marital harmony I'm willing to make that sacrifice. 

A view from our tent

Some of you may have gone through a similar evolution regarding all the comfort and joy that Mother Nature can bestow upon us (what would camping at Lake Dillon on Memorial Day be without a little spring snow to make it memorable?). The younger generations are either much wiser, or willing to miss out on all this bliss as many, if not most, seem to have gone straight to the RV in lieu of the traditional fabric and pole shelters of their parents. American Express's slogan of "Don't leave home without it" seems to have carried over into this brave new world of RV camping (an oxymoron if ever there was one) as big screen T.V.'s, fancy barbeque grills, and rocking chairs all come along for a sojourn under the stars. In campgrounds nowadays RV's outnumber tents 10 to 1 and instead of listening to the pitter-pat of rain gently falling on the tent you're more likely to hear the rumble of generators powering up to catch the big game on the Big Screen.

The 'Middle of Nowhere'

Now all of this is well and good and is simply evidence of how far we've all come over the years. But still, there are times (many, many times) I yearn for getting back to the basics. Instead of loading up and hitching up a rolling behemoth simply throwing two sleeping bags and a tent into the car and heading off to find, once more, the 'middle of nowhere'. For two days and nights I got the chance to do just that. And yes, the ground is as hard as it ever was, and oh my, did it feel good...

Teton Moods

Having recently returned from a trip to Jackson Hole, Wyoming and the nearby Grand Teton National Park I was anxious to put together a video of our trip. I've been going to the Tetons since the '70's when I went with my dad from whom I've inherited a bad case of wanderlust. I remember my first trip and my first views of this majestic mountain range. We had come over Togwotee Pass from the then-tiny town of Dubois where we had spent the night. Though I'm now a vegetarian my recollection is that I had the best steak of my life in Dubois. Don't know if that would be true today, but the next time you pass through stop and try some of that grass-fed Wyoming beef. 

Anyway, we had come over the pass only to see nothing but clouds, grey and menacing all along the Teton range. You wouldn't have known there were mountains at all for the overcast. As the weather prognostication was not favorable we spent the remainder of that trip in Yellowstone viewing geysers and critters rather than peaks.

Of course that trip just spurred my interest in returning to catch a glimpse of the Tetons and eventually I saw them on a clear and sunny day. Back then clear days were the norm whereas today you're lucky to not see these incredible mountains through a summer haze of wildfire smoke that seems to come earlier and last later than ever before. I've driven, hiked, biked, and kayaked (and now SUP'd) through this scenery and I still think the best views are from the saddle of a two-wheeled steed. Apparently a whole lot of folks would agree with me as the number of bikes, especially those new-fangled E-bikes, were all over the Park roads.

This year our first week saw nothing but sunshine and clear blue skies. Oh, and warm - actually hot for the area - temps close to 100 degrees. While folks in Seattle sweltered through history-making heat Teton country wasn't far behind. Still I knew from experience that the clear days would not last so kept my camera busy capturing most of the shots you'll see in the video below. The wildflowers were also taking a bow on this epic stage and I'm at a loss to decide which was prettier - the snow-capped peaks or nature's flowerful pallet of color. 

Crowds there were as well but we've visited enough to know some out-of-the-way spots where peace and quiet and solitude could still be found. The town of Jackson was mobbed as is usual during the summer but locals seem to take it all in good humor. The Town Square shootout was still going on (Monday-Saturday @ 6p.m.) and though a little hokey everyone in attendance (and there were a lot of everyones in attendance) seemed to enjoy the show. And of course the Stagecoach still does laps around the Square with passengers gawking out of the stagecoach windows at all the tourists taking pictures and gawking as the stage and two beautiful horses clip-clopping slowly by. An interesting side note: apparently the same outfit that offers the stagecoach also does sleigh rides through the nearby National Elk Refuge in winter (December-April). Sounds like a heck of an excuse to mosey up that way when the flakes start to fall. 

Not unexpectedly, the wildfire smoke did make an appearance during our last couple of days. The mountains are still beautiful shrouded in the hazy mist and the smoke makes for some stunning sunsets over the Tetons. The smoke makes all the photographers work a little harder but there are still great pictures to be had. 

One day we were in Jackson and were treated to a hailstorm. I've never seen so many shorts and halter-topped tourists scramble for cover but the storm thankfully dropped the temperature a good twenty degrees and I'm sure the local stores didn't mind the sudden influx of sodden shoppers trying to get out of the wet. I was most impressed, as you'll see if you pay attention in the video, by the young cowboy who stayed atop the Stagecoach hunkered down with his steeds while gravel-sized balls of ice rained down from leaden skies. There's a reason those cowboy hats have such wide brims...

Eventually the skies lightened up, the hail that had accumulated melted, and all the would-be cowboys and cowgals streamed back out onto the wooden boardwalks. The only place I noticed that didn't see this post-storm exodus was the Million Dollar Cowboy Bar. I guess patrons there know a good thing when they drink it or perhaps they never even noticed there had been a summer downpour.

One would have thought that COVID was non-existent and the only masks that were worn were by some of the stuffed local residents. Social distancing was in full-effect however, if you count six inches as the measure instead of six feet. Looking at the license plates on the cars lucky enough to snag a parking spot around the Square I'd say most States were well represented though most seemed to come from the midwest. Same went in the campgrounds although a fair number of folks had flown in and rented their RV/Motorhomes with going rates around $2,000 for three days. One local mentioned that out at the airport they were charging $900/day for rental cars and couldn't keep them in stock. Just WOW...

So now we're back at home but if I close my eyes and don't listen for the sound of sirens, which seems to have become an integral part of Denver's soundscape, I can feel the hot wind (smell the sage?) in my hair and hear the sound of wind rustling through the prairie grasses. If I had my druthers we'd still be up there. The road that beckons is at its loneliest right after coming home, that's for sure. 

So where to next? The summers not over and I hear tell there's a border up north going to open in the next couple of weeks. Hmmmm, that itch in my gas-pedal foot might still get itched.....

The most expensive real estate in the Tetons

 My better half and I have been up in the Tetons the last couple of weeks enjoying the stunning vistas, abundant wildlife (though sadly not a single bear - grizzled or black - to be found), along with record crowds despite an ongoing pandemic in many of the places from which these folks hail from. 

A local guide at one of the favored moose-watching locations told us that May visitation to the Grand Teton National Park was up 49% from the same time a year ago. Sure, sure, I thought - last year was the height of the COVID crisis so I thought perhaps 2020 traffic to the park might have been way off. As with most things I couldn't have been more wrong - 2020 set records over 2019 - apparently Americans unable to travel overseas last year all decided to congregate in a little place called Jackson Hole and then invited all of their friends and relatives up for a repeat this year.

My wife and I have been up to the Tetons enough to know where to find the less crowded spots although even our hidden gems seemed to be attracting more people than we had anticipated. One of the lakes near the Moran entrance station is tucked back on a rough and tumble dirt road (though not 4-wheel necessary) that most tourists whiz by without even considering turning off to see this special jewel. This year the small parking lot was full though that meant about ten other cars and one full-sized RV who somehow managed to get his big rig up the narrow and twisting path only to find that the parking lot couldn't accommodate rigs a third his size. But all was well as there were sufficient black flies and mosquitos galore to more than go around the small crowd. Once out on the lake in a kayak and on an SUP the bugs tended to leave us alone so we could focus on the two bull moose we found grazing along the shore. Such is why folks head to this neck of the woods. Note to SUP'ers, do you think you can out-paddle a moose? I didn't put it to the test but I was starting to wonder...

We caught up with an old friend and his family for an afternoon in the Town of Jackson which is an eclectic blend of old west meets Gucci. Lots of famous celebs call Jackson their second, third or fourth home depending on how lofty their celebrity. Housing and real estate prices are astronomically high as you might expect but if I had a couple of million dollars looking for something to do I might be tempted to buy 40 acres (without the mule) where I could sit on my front deck and contemplate the stunning beauty of the Teton range. $10.5 million will get you a nice 4 bedroom/4.5 bath on 4.7 acres. Need a tad more space? $11.5 million puts you into a 7,263 sq. ft., 5 bedroom/6.5 bath "...set on 5.06 acres, discreetly tucked atop the ridge of Spring Creek" boasting "...unrivaled Grand Teton and Sleeping Indian views." As if there's anything discreet about a house that costs $11+ million. 

O.K. with something a little smaller? How about a 3 bedroom/3 bath 2,200 sq. ft. "cabin" for just $1,190,000? This one doesn't feature the world famous Teton views but on the plus side it sits on those 40 acres (minus the mule) I mentioned earlier. Another advantage is that you won't have to shovel that infamous Wyoming snow because its only 3 season accessible...

Perhaps the most expensive property I found was a little, and I mean little, property actually in town in the "desirable East Jackson Neighborhood". This 3 bedroom/2 Full baths 1,950 sq. ft. home is nestled on just .18 acres and can be yours, if you hurry, for just $1,195,000. Why is this the most expensive? On a per acre basis that works out to a whopping $6.6 million. The $11 million home I mentioned earlier at least sat on 5 acres which works out to just $2.2 million per. 

Needless to say my wife and I won't be moving North to Teton country anytime soon but depending on your budget you might want to consider it. The views can't be beat, you can rub shoulders with the glitterati at the local Albertsons supermarket, and you won't look out of place wearing those cowboy boots and cowboy hat you have tucked away somewhere in your closet (you know, for the week or two of the National Western Stock Show where every Denverite goes at least a little bit country). 

Anyway, there you have it on the state of real estate in Jackson, Wyoming. Me, I'm back at the Gros Ventre campground which does quite nicely in a pinch. Can I interest anyone in a S'mores?

The Manitou Incline... twice may be enough

In Manitou Springs, Colorado there's a hill and quite a hill it is. They call it the Manitou Incline and it's steep and people climb it purportedly for fun. 

photo courtesy of the Manitou Incline Basecamp

The first time I did the Incline there was still a funicular that whisked you to the top to take in the view. It ran from 1907 until 1990 until economics made it no longer feasible to operate profitably. The funicular is now just a memory and today people haul themselves up 2,700 steps (railroad ties actually) at grades maxing out at 68% to earn the privilege of then hiking three miles back down. 

Join me for a quick peek at our climb up this Colorado landmark. If you've done it kudos to you for accomplishing it. Now that I've done it both the easy and the hard way I'm inclined to have a whole lot more respect for those that set their sights on reaching the top!