Short Story: Two Days in the Winds

Two days in the Winds

Finally. Two days off in a row. After ten days in a row at work, it’s a much needed break. To hell with laundry and cleaning my apartment. I’ve spent six weeks living and working in Jackson, Wyoming, and this is the first time I’ve had off to play in the woods.

For the past month I’ve woken up to the mountains our my door: The Tetons to the West, the Gros Ventres top the East, and the Winds to the South. And this has been the first I’ve made it out for an overnight journey.

We get out early Friday morning. Waiting for folks to shake their hangovers and join us at the rendezvous spot. I’m tagging along with a group of five who are out for four nights to bag Gannet Peak, Wyoming’s highest. I’m gonna head in with them and camp for their first night, then head back out in the morning to catch work early in the Sunday A.M. We stand in the yard of one of the group member’s house, cracking jokes and waiting for Chuck to shake the gin cobwebs and the girl he’s with. Finally, the jeep comes rambling down the long driveway. Cars are packed, and on the road we go.

We wander through Teton National Park, around the Gros Ventres range, cross the Continental Divide, and back to the southeast, into the Wind River Range. Just after passing the Dubois "valley of the warm winds," we turn off onto a gravel road. The road winds into the valley, past a huge blue lake, where we stop to swim, and arrives at the trail head nestled into the mouth of the valley.

Soon, we’ve hoisted our packs, and with shadows small, we make our way up the Glacier Trail. We travel all day, keeping a brisk pace, and stopping often to catch our wind, joke around, and enjoy the view. Eventually, we hit a long series of steep switchbacks. The end of the switchbacks dumps us out high up at a small stream, where we stop to refill our water bottles. Next, we encounter a long steady climb up a plain carved by glaciers long before my time. The plain is enclosed, on either side, by steep sandstone cliffs and mountains of granite. After multiple false horizons, we eventually climb our way to the shoulder of a ridge, overlooking the next valley. There we spy an ideal spot for our campsite.

We spend the night a short walk from a creek at the edge of a huge field and a clump of small trees. After setting up camp and fixing supper on our small stoves, we hang our food to keep it from the grizzlies, and sit on a boulder, smoking, watching the sun go down. Night brings the moon, which soon chases the sun down to set behind a nearby peak. Countless stars come out in the void following the setting sun. We pass the time telling jokes and looking at the stars. Pretty soon everyone gets tired and heads for their sleeping bags. I choose to grab my bag and sleep on top of the boulder I’ve been sitting on since sunset.

I awake to early morning sunlight and the quiet words of early risers. After breaking down camp and a quick breakfast or flapjacks, it’s time for me to head back out of the woods, into the unreal world. My friends will be heading further in, towards Gannet Peak , and I’m quite jealous. After filling water bottles in the stream one last time, we say our goodbyes and head our separate ways.

The solo hiking clears my head and I keep a steady pace. After climbing all day yesterday, the steady decent is a welcome relief. I take an alternate route this time, staying next to a ridge and walking alongside the tops of high sandstone cliffs.

When I see the parking lot a few miles away, my pace slows, eager to enjoy all I can before heading back to Jackson. I spent all morning winding down the valley floor, enjoying traveling alone once again. Just shy of the parking lot lies a large creek. I suss out the best route, unhook my pack, — just in case —, and slowly ford the creek, the fast moving water running almost to my waist in some places. Soggy, but on the other side, I slosh my way, in waterlogged shoes, out to the trail head with mixed feelings of relief and discontent to be returning to "civilization."

Out on the road now, I cut my speed as I arrive at Dubois. After 2 days in the sun with a heavy pack, shade and a cool beer beckons.

I park in front of the "Outlaw Saloon" and survey my status. I’m barefoot and shirtless after a swim in the lake on the way out. Reluctantly, I shove my swollen feet back into my hiking shoes. The only semi-clean shirt I’ve got is tie-dyed, I put it on, weary of the potential hazards of walking into a cowboy bar in a tie-dyed shirt. I walk past the ol’-timers, and take a seat at the far end of the bar and order an "ice cold Budweiser." Cold beer never tasted so good.

Bottle drained, it’s back on the open road again...

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For more amazing pictures of Wyoming and Colorado mountains, like the image seen here, please see Dave’s Wallpaper