Wyoming: Cascade Canyon

Cascade Canyon is another beautiful place that eluded us on our first stint in the Tetons - that time because of the late spring weather (a heavy winter led to trails still being iced-over during our late May visit). This time, we returned to the Tetons in the fall precisely to be able to access the mountain passes, and with them, the glorious alpine scenery that far exceeds any experience of viewing the Teton Range from a distance. Up close, on foot, and deeply intimate - this is the best way to photograph the western mountains. After another peaceful night at the ranch, Jane and I set off in the pre-dawn darkness for Jenny Lake, at the heart of the park. Along the way, we photograph mist rising from the mountains just before sunrise, the peaks and gullies snow-covered after the overnight passage of yet another storm system. We arrive at Jenny Lake shortly sunrise; I photograph the cloud-laced reflections of the mountains off the lake surface before we head out, counter-clockwise, toward Cascade Creek. Our day’s hike will have us covering 11 miles (2 miles to the western end of the lake, and then 4.5 miles up and down the canyon). We choose to set off well before the Jenny Lake boat shuttle begins running at 10 AM, so that we can enjoy at least a few hours of peace and solitude in the mountains.

After walking an undulating trail of rock steps along the lakeshore, we reach Hidden Falls, a lovely, ribboning cascade that descends from high up the canyon and falls toward the lake surface. I take some lovely long exposure compositions here and along the trail to the western boat dock, where a showy red barberry bush serves as foreground for another portion of the creek. We take a hydration break before tackling the rocky switchbacks up to Inspiration Point, where we’re treated with panoramic views over Jenny Lake and Jackson Hole - morning mist rising along the Snake River in the far distance.

Now that we’re level with Cascade Canyon, the walk is fairly straightforward, but the views are breathtakingly beautiful. The mountains, which were impressive at a distance, have become almost unimaginably imposing now that we are among them; all sense of scale is lost as we walk ever closer to the granite walls. In another half a mile, the canyon opens up into a broad, V-shaped trough; the serrated edges of Teewinot and the faraway summit of the Grand looming to our left, and the many-layered pink granite of Storm Point rising to our right. The pleasant trickle of Cascade Creek is in places interrupted by rushing rapids, rivulets streaming from the high mountain glaciers; the rocky trail alternates between open meadows, streamside paths, and forest clearings. The autumn colors here in the canyon are stunning, especially as we near the fork at the head of the canyon. We pass through groves of glowing orange and golden aspens, stands of yellow birch, and rich splashes of hawthorn and maple leaves. Jane and I set a turnaround time but violate it repeatedly to photograph our surroundings, determined as we are to the finish the entire trail to the canyon fork. On our way up, we pass only handful of other hikers.

At the fork of Cascade Canyon (unceremoniously indicated by a slight clearing and a single wooden trail marker), we find a nice boulder with a view of the tumbling creek below, and eat our trail lunch of bread, jerky, fruit and dessert trail mix (the Neapolitan mix from Target, with strawberry, vanilla, and chocolate yogurt chips in addition to almonds and dried strawberries. Amazing. To die for). Afterward, we all but sprint back down the canyon to the western boat dock, passing the growing hordes of incoming boat riders (identifiable by their sandals, hand-carried plastic water bottles, and total lack of situational awareness). From these hikers, we hear that our path outward is being apparently cleared by a grizzly bear cub, which spooks many on the trail (we continuously pass by people who “just saw it! It just came down ahead of you!” for half an hour). Thankfully, we never catch up to the cub or catch any indication of its mother; we cover the return 4.5 miles in 90 minutes (!), for a total hike of 11 miles over 6 hours. We’re first-in-line for the boat ride back to the Jenny Lake trailhead, and eat a late lunch of chowder, chili, and sandwiches at the Signal Mountain Lodge before returning to our cabin.

Wyoming: The Wind Rivers

On Wednesday, we have a leisurely morning. The trip has been photographically productive already, and I’m all sunrised out for the week (this is, after all, a vacation). After a few days of long hikes, we sleep in, pack up our cabin, and head out of the Tetons. After four years, we’re expanding our view of Wyoming beyond the boundaries of Jackson Hole and the Greater Yellowstone area, heading toward the Wind River Range at the central part of the state, home to its tallest peaks. After a brief stop in Jackson to stock up on groceries, we drive south on Hwy 191 to the town of Pinedale in Sublette County. Pinedale, large and relatively suburban as it is by Wyoming standards, has portions that resemble a classic little cattlehand town of the American West: a single Main Street, a few diners and bars, and an outfitting store that serves as portal to the Winds. Like hungry animals, we devour a terrific lunch of hash and eggs at the Wrangler Cafe. Before checking into our motel for the next two nights, we kill a few hours exploring the town and sitting beside Pine Creek in the nearby park. Strolling through the largely suburban setting (flat paved paths, nearby single family homes, the sound of lawnmowers), I am just commenting that it feels like we’ve been transported to Southern California - when we come nearly face-to-face with another placid bull moose browsing through the shrubbery. We carefully sneak past him back to our car.

After a nap, we drive out of town and up into the mountains. Our destination is Elkhart Park, launching point for many of the Wind Rivers’ best backpacking routes. Our hike for the afternoon is much shorter - two miles up and two miles down to catch sunset on the Wind River Range from the Sacred Rim. The trail is steeper and a bit less maintained than the well-groomed national park paths we’ve been tramping on; it cuts through some areas of blown-down timber and across a few small creeks before ascending into a jumble of rocks. The rim is revealed suddenly as we reach the top of the rocks - a jaw-dropping panorama of granite peaks, serrated ridges, alpine wilderness, all fronted by the cerulean blue sheen of Long Lake cutting through the canyon below us. I carefully make my way out onto a rocky outcrop on the edge of the canyon; I’m not typically affected by heights, but the dizzying lean of the boulders, the powerful afternoon updrafts along the mountain wall, and the exposed drops in three directions are enough to make my knees buckle. I set up my tripod in a sheltered crevice in the rock; Jane, who is a saint, sits with me on the canyon’s edge for nearly two hours as I work on a long sunset timelapse. During the golden hour, I focus on Long Lake (glowing like a gemstone beneath the silhouetted trees) and the pink glow of day’s last light on the distant peaks. Camera packed away, we all but glissade back down the stone trail, reaching the safety of our car just as night fully falls.

On the final full day of our trip, we have another relaxed morning (breakfast at our motel, a brief walk around town, purchasing a book and a souvenir magnet) before leaving Pinedale in the afternoon for another sunset outing. This time, we’re heading north on Hwy 352, bound for the Green River Lakes. After about 25 miles, the highway transforms into a gravel road - easily passable in our midsize SUV, but quite washboarded and overall slow going. We slowly make our way north and then east, following the curve of the Green River (whose lower reaches we last saw in Moab) toward its source in the Wind Rivers. The range rises over us to the east, a north-south wall of distant spires and crumpled granite. The last twenty miles of the drive takes us approximately an hour, including some brief pauses on the roadside to photograph the lonely, open spaces of Wyoming’s countryside, elegantly golden at the peak of autumn.

After a long ride, we turn into the Green River Lakes campground and are greeted by a gorgeous landscape quite reminiscent of the Northern Rockies: a beautiful crystal lake between forested mountainsides, backed by the harsh granite of Squaretop Mountain. Jane and I set off on a brief hike along the north shore of Lower Green Lake, which follows the Continental Divide Trail. We take some selfies and portraits among the aspens on the hillside before returning to the campground to set up for sunset. Jane hangs around the lakeshore for the next hour while I photograph the light settling in on the mountaintops and the adjacent hillsides. Scattered rains come and go across the valley, but overall the weather holds up beautifully. Except for one family playing with an inflatable kayak across the beach, we are completely alone for a quiet sunset in the wilderness. Jane takes over the wheel for our long drive out on the gravel road; we’re back in Pinedale at 9 PM, and drive back to Jackson the next morning to fly home to Boston.