Teton Crest Trail

In August 2012, we did a five-day, four-night backpack trip on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming. John was 59 and I was 58. We started outside of the park on the Phillips Canyon Trail and came out on the Paintbrush Canyon Trail.

Once we got to the Teton Crest Trail, we had several passes to cross, and Phillips Pass provided us with an easy warm-up.

Once across Phillips Pass, we were now on the Teton Crest Trail. We took a break at Marion Lake …

… before heading over Fox Creek Pass, where we started getting our first views of the Tetons in the far distance.

Shortly after we crossed Fox Creek Pass, we entered an area known as the Death Canyon Shelf. I don’t know how Death Canyon got its name, but it didn’t seem that the shelf above should have to share its unfortunate name as it seemed very much alive with trees, grass and wildflowers.

Despite its name, we camped that night on the Death Canyon Shelf.

The next day, we crossed over Mount Meek Pass and entered a lovely area known as the Alaska Basin. It is not actually within national park boundaries but is in the Caribou-Targhee National Forest. If the national park had annexed it, I would have had an easier time keywording and captioning John’s photos.

After crossing the Alaska Basin, we ascended to Hurricane Pass and began getting some of our best views of Grand Teton, Middle Teton and South Teton. We also crossed over the national park boundary again.

We spent our third night in South Fork Cascade Canyon.

The next morning, we continued down the trail through South Fork Cascade Canyon …

… past a lovely waterfall on South Fork Cascade Creek.

The trail passes the junction with Cascade Canyon Trail and continues up through North Fork Cascade Canyon …

… to the beautiful, incredibly blue Lake Solitude.

We then headed up our final pass on the trip, Paintbrush Divide. While the view from the pass allowed us to see other peaks such as Mount Moran, we were disappointed to see the smoky haze hanging over the Jackson Hole area in the distance.

We camped our last night in Upper Paintbrush Canyon. It had become quite windy, and we were hoping to find a protected spot for our tent. We had seen several tents clustered near a creek, so we sought out a more private spot and found one situated on a small knoll protected by some shrubs and trees.

Our last morning out provided us with some excitement. We were in the process of organizing our food. Our bear canister was open, and our bags of day food were spread out on a rock. We were sitting opposite each other and had been talking when all of a sudden John started yelling “Get out of here, bear!” I turned around and saw a huge head sticking out from the shrubs about eight feet away from us. We both knew we had to stand our ground as our gear, especially our food, was too scattered for us to quickly gather it all up and slowly back away.

Fortunately, this bear didn’t appear agitated, and he wasn’t huffing or clacking his teeth. He just stood there. It became apparent that yelling wasn’t enough to chase him away, so John got his bear spray out. I know he really wanted to get his camera instead, but his better judgment prevailed. I started throwing rocks at the bear. I didn’t want to hit him for fear I would injure an eye or it would just make him mad. But after he still refused to move, I started throwing larger and larger rocks.

He finally ducked back into the shrubs. I wanted to make sure he had left the area, so I remained alert. Good thing, because he approached again from the side around some large rocks. I was ready for him, and this time, I did try to hit him. I think I was successful because when he finally ran off, he stopped every few yards to lick his left forepaw.

In hindsight, it seems funny because we must have had the same perplexed expression on our faces as the bear did. We had assumed that once we stood our ground, made a lot of noise and threw rocks at him, he would just leave. The bear apparently assumed that once he stuck his head through the bushes and just looked at us, we would leave and he could get our food. It made me wonder if he had been successful in the past at obtaining food from backpackers by approaching them in this way.

We were embarrassed by how lackadaisical we had become. It was irresponsible of us to have so much food strewn about in bear country. We are relieved that we didn’t allow the bear to get any of our food. As the saying goes, “a fed bear is a dead bear.” Neither of us wants to be the one who signs a bear’s death warrant. Hopefully, being hit on the paw with a rock will help discourage him for at least a little while. This trip is memorable in more ways than one.

All photos from this trip are on Flickr.