“See how nature- trees, flowers, grass, grows in silence; see the stars, the moon, the sun…how they move in silence.” -Mother Teresa
I was not raised to be comfortable in the great outdoors. We never went camping as a family, our only vacations were a two week trip down to the Jersey shore every summer. All six of us packed into a small cottage. I never attended summer camps and have a single vague memory of staying in a cabin in the Pocono’s with my Girl Scout troop. I recall hard beds and a musty smell. I discovered the joys of hiking later in life, after I had children and we began to vacation in the Sleeping Bear Dunes in Michigan. The hikes in and around the Leelanau Peninsula were accessible and moderate in effort required. I remembered reading in a parenting book that the best way to communicate with your boys and get them to open up was to do something active with them. Those hikes were a great way for the boys to get their energy out on the trail and it was a bonding time for our family. We have many fond memories of tramping through the forests in the early spring, carpets of trilliums stretching under the forest canopy, or kicking up fallen leaves on an October weekend. Empire Bluffs, Pyramid Point, Alligator Hill, Windy Moraine. The names are almost as nostalgic as the poignant memories of little boys and the whoops and shouts of freedom. We began to plan our Spring Break trips around places we could hike. Zion and Bryce were particularly memorable for the nervous breakdown I almost had hiking Angel’s Landing with rambunctious boys in close proximity to sheer cliffs. One of our last family trips before they all scattered to different areas was Acadia National Park in Maine. We bagged as many trails as we could and I remember my grown boys scampering like 6 year olds over rocks, climbing boulders and fearlessly balancing on skinny paths on the edge of mountains.
Without realizing it, the hiking bug bit me as well. Mark and I began seeking out trips that challenged our abilities. A challenging hike to Machu Picchu on the Salkantay Trail involved a 14,000 foot pass and a bout of altitude sickness that almost ended the trip for Mark. For my 50th, we made the pilgrimage to hike the Camino de Santiago in Spain, a 100 mile ramble through the Galician mountains that challenged my hip flexors but also provided a deeply spiritual experience. We fell in love with the red rocks and dry climate of Sedona and returned there often to commune with the outdoors and get back in touch with ourselves. And of course we discovered the joy of our very own dunes in Saugatuck, MI, a place we return again and again.
We have spent three days now in the Grand Tetons and we have hiked some spectacular country. Our first hike was to two remote glacial lakes, a 6-mile loop that circumnavigated Taggart and Bradley Lakes. I almost let my bear fear get the better of me and prevent me from doing what I love most. Instead, the bear spray was in my hand, finger through the loop. I’d practiced flipping the protective orange tab, much like an old cowboy whipping his pistol out. Calamity Michele. I felt a little ridiculous but it assuaged my anxiety a bit. I’d heard from other hikers that the biggest liability of the spray was that of people carelessly squirting themselves or their hiking partner, bear spray was actually a very effective deterrent to a charging bear. The actual reality of that scenario makes me chuckle. As if I will have the presence of mind, much less the audacity to wait until Mr. Bear is 35 feet(approximately!) away before calmly deploying deterrent. Right.
The Taggart/Bradley hike was the perfect introduction to the Teton area. We got an early start while the air was still brisk. The trail begins in a sagebrush flat with stunning views of the mountains. Soon, we crossed a footbridge over Taggart Creek with a lavish cascading waterfall. A horse corral came into view in a short bit, young foals standing sentinel by the log fence. At this point, we began to hike up a moderate grade following the creek, its bubbling and gurgling sounds accompanying our footfalls. Mixed forest of spruce, fir and lodgepole pines made for that wonderful heady scent, one that makes me breathe deeper and slower. My senses begin to take over my thoughts, the smell of pine, the sound of rushing water and the hollow pock-pock of the red-headed woodpecker. My monkey brain of senseless chatter was overwhelmed and gratefully silenced. A stand of aspens just beginning to turn reminded us Fall was imminent. We eventually reach Bradley Lake, the water so crystal clear, the sunlight shining on the distant mountains, and the lake surface creating a a perfect mirror image of the surrounding scenery. There was an intense clarity to the light, I tried to capture it on film but knew it was one of those moments that is singular and fleeting. So we sat down, each on our individual rock and savored our pb&j’s in silence.
After awhile, we continued on to Bradley Lake and the few people on the trail dispersed. We made another switchback ascent and we both began to get the feeling we were lost. We stopped to look at the map and I noticed we were in a stand of huckleberry bushes, prime bear habitat. I listened. I put my bear bell in my hand and began ringing it.(Thanks Jean!) I kept yelling at Mark, HEY, ISN’T THIS A FUN HIKE as the rangers had told us to make a lot of noise. Did you know there’s never been a bear attack on three people? I was thinking about glomming onto another group as we passed them, but Mark said that would be weird. We kept walking, albeit a little more swiftly. Eventually, we ran into another couple and they assured us to keep going. Bradley was another gorgeous lake, seeming to appear out of nowhere. It’s amazing to see these pristine bodies of water without any development or watercraft upon their still surfaces other then the watery trails of dragonflies and ducks. We looped back to the end of the trail and I felt triumphant. My head was clear, I sweated and used the muscles in my legs, I conquered my fear and beheld wondrous sights. This is what a hike should be.
The following day, we decided to take a longer 9 mile hike into the Canyon. This required a boat ride across the drop dead gorgeous Jenny Lake, a short hike straight up to an astounding waterfall and a secondary hike up to an overlook called Inspiration Point. This secondary trail weeded out the casual hikers from the serious “I’m killing myself because at the end of the day I can eat/drink all I like” crowd. It was a steep 400 ft elevation gain on a muddy trail. The altitude made it so that I had to stop occasionally just to catch my breath. The most common conversation when you met someone on their way down was a breathless “How much longer?” with the answer typically being “Not much, you can do it!” Hikers are really nice people. Inspiration Point was totally worth it. The view over Jenny Lake and the surrounding forest was expansive and as all grand vistas do, made me feel small and insignificant yet supremely grateful to be alive.
We backtracked to the trailhead and started to make our way into Cascade Canyon. We hiked along a rushing stream, huge glacier rocks creating mini waterfalls at every bend. The brush was thick here and the bushes were laden with berries. I was ringing my bell like a Salvation Army volunteer in December but the noise and chatter of the water was drowning out any sound including my attempts at yelling conversation. It was only later that I read that this area is thick with bears and one should make plenty of racket around roaring streams such as this because the last thing you want to do is surprise a bear. In fact, this article advised against bells because, get this, bells can ATTRACT bears, like its an invitation to come out and play. WHAT??? I could not believe I was not armed with this information prior to this hike but as the old adage goes, what you don’t know…..
Luck was with us this day because I did not become a bear’s plaything and we made it to the wide open space where a meadow sprawled on either side of the now quiet stream. A riot of wildflowers colored the valley floor; Indian paintbrush, yellow goldenrod and purple asters were abundant. Distant waterfalls rocketed off cliff faces thousands of feet above us. A female moose lay supine on the muddy banks of the now quiet stream. It was so idyllic this place, the few hikers there all had the same look of awe and reverence on their faces. It may sound like I am exaggerating or using hyperbole, but I am not. There are special places in this world and you know it when you stumble upon them.
So what makes an ideal hike? In my mind, variable topography and/or ecosystems is primary. Water, forests, meadows, mountains. A grand overlook is a good motivator for steep elevations. Potential wildlife sightings are a boon. Abundant bird life. Flowers, a variety of tree species. Pine needles under foot. Rushing streams. Few other hikers. Silence. That was always a big one for me. We tried to teach our kids the art and benefits of walking in silence. The things you hear and notice: birds, wind, streams. This was the first time I was ever told to act like I was having a party on the trail for my own safety. It felt wrong, contrary to the purpose. I tried to be obnoxious, but Mark was not engaging and so I ended up whistling. Guess what? Whistling is a major bear attractant. So, I apparently did everything wrong and I survived hiking in a bear laden forest.
Have I learned anything from my Teton hikes? I know that I must coexist with the Bear, and I cannot let the potential of a sudden introduction prevent me from enjoying and exploring his habitat. I have all my facts straight now, I am armed with my spray and I will be prepared. Am I now predisposed to hike without fear now that we are heading to Yellowstone? That would be a great big NO. Because I am now armed with even greater knowledge. In Grand Teton in 2017, there have been no bear attacks on humans. The same cannot be said of Yellowstone. Into the wild places, we must go. One thing I won’t be bringing is my indoor voice.