Wyoming

Our trip in Wyoming was a special first leg of our trip. The state is far more fascinating than its Southern neighbors say it is: clearly a product of jealousy.

Le Grande Tetons: The Great Tits

As we exited Wyoming, the steep slopes of Teton Pass gave me time to reflect on the experience. I was pleased with my visit in Wyoming, but I was apprehensive about the move to another location: this has been a reoccurring theme on the journey. Our last four days in the state were in Jackson, and filled me with awe and even exhaustion. My nervousness allowed me to ask how we got to the steep uphill of Teton Pass. With a long first leg of our journey complete, I had not even stopped to reflect on the experiences we had. When I delved deep I noticed that the memories had not even registered themselves into my life: I could barely remember how the first two weeks of the trip went. We did not think about our trip or climbing whilst in Jackson, and in doing so, discovered a new purpose for our trip: take the fun and run. The following is an account of how we escaped Wyoming with the fun hidden in the back of the truck the whole time.

Our experience in Vedauwoo was unlike many visitors there. We know the area well, and have learned to avoid being destroyed by the sharp granite. It was sad and depressing leaving our home in Fat Crack Country. Melancholy filled the truck the entire way to Lander. A bath in the Platte River picked up our moods due to the change in our smell, but mostly reminded us of what we no longer had.

River Bath!

Lander: the sadness spilled out of the truck in the City Park. Lander is a city of progression, and permits camping in their City Park to accommodate the dirtbags, bums, recreationists, and family picnickers of the West. We took a stroll down to Mainstreet and it felt like a battle field. The recent flooding had triggered the building of stone walls all along the river corridor. Lander is closed on Sundays at nine, so we made the trip back to the car after looking in the windows of all the shops. Upon arriving at the car we were overcome by the realization that we had lost the car keys somewhere along the long walk into downtown Lander. Our search re-traced our path into town and left us empty handed. When we returned to the car for the second time that evening, we looked into the passenger window for some sort of savior, and we were startled to find the keys underneath our copious amount of pointless items in the front seat. Greg Hank, from Hank's Keys came and unlocked the car for us the next morning, and then we were on our way to Wild Iris.

This bum in Lander City Park was biking across the country. We actually passed him on our way to Jackson.

We did not waste any time after arriving at Wild Iris, and went straight to the crag to burn off some frustration sport climbing. We were immediately befriended by a middle aged man and his Weimerhiener, and then we spent the rest of the day climbing with him. Ken, was a youthful and slender man. He climbed all of the routes we put up, and impressed us when he said it was his first day climbing in six months. The afternoon heat forced us to take a siesta back at camp. We shared beers with Ken, and he shared produce from his garden. We talked about impressive amount of skiing Ken completed each winter, his work as a school social worker, hunting, saving the world, and eating. He guided us with some helpful advice, and expressed minor jealousy over our trip.

A pretty cool setting.

We developed a saying at Wild Iris: "We can do What Ever We Want!" (George demonstrating that we can even hang upside down in the kitchen.

The next day we returned to our campsite and noticed a new cooler and a bottle of whiskey silhouetted against the Wind River Mountain Range. We found a note that said, "Never too much beer right! Climb hard and ski fast! Ken." Inside the cooler we found a lot of iced down beer, and homemade fruit leather from his garden. We salute Ken and his generosity every day of this trip.

Thank you Ken! Cold Beer and Fruit Leather.
We plan on saving the Whiskey that Ken got us. We take a sip of it at every new location we are in, so that we can remember Ken's generosity.
Lot's of cool rocks at Wild Iris.
George likes to hang upside down.
This is what pocketed limestone looks like!

After a week of phenomenal climbing, we headed for Jackson, where we would meet a buddy from college. Traveling through the arid landscape brought back the usual apprehension that accompanies leaving the places we learn to love. We were warmly received by our pal, and from the moment I shook my hair dry from my first shower to our departure, we were entranced with friendship and kindness. The ingredients for fun were in Jackson: it was the fourth of July weekend, it was George's birthday, the town was crowded, and it seemed that everyone wanted to be our friend.

George's Birthday Cake

Jackson is a town that is seen on two wheels. It had endless bike paths taking us to and from parties to bars. Our visit in Jackson was constantly followed by the stench of celebration, and we soaked in four endless days and nights of sinful activities. There seemed to be some presence, whether it be ours or the recent blossoming of summer that fired up the entire city of Jackson. Its residents were in the streets blessing the flag of our homeland, the children were hiding from the debauchery like all good children should do, the river was floating drunkards to the Atlantic, the bikes were carrying festivities to the masses, cowboys and Indians were shooting each other on Mainstreet, and two dirtbags from Colorado and New York were there to see it all happen.

We did climb a little.
Well, a lot. We found this area called the Buttress, that does not have a guidebook. The area is so new that routes were being put up the week prior to our visit.

Leaving Wyoming for Idaho was predictably accompanied by my sadness for leaving lovely places. We made countless friends in a new town surrounded by dagger like peaks. The first leg of our journey had been completed, leaving us with a tour of Wyoming that reset our capacity to complete this dream trip. We left silently chanting our mantra: "Take the Fun and Run!" As we began our descent of Teton Pass into Idaho, I wondered how my life could be reset in the future. Jackson, Wyoming changed us, and in doing so we forgot all of the good and even the bad things that happened to us throughout the State. This realization makes me thankful for the pen and paper under my gobied hand in helping me remember the life had before the intoxication of friendship in towns like Jackson, because forgetting the spontaneous river baths, locksmiths, parks, Ken's, and fourth of July's of the life is an unacceptable alternative.