Jackson, but No Stonewall

July 29-30

It was a short ride from Pinedale to Jackson, less than two hours, all on the same road, U.S. 191. But the terrain changed sharply.

The Bridger-Teton Forest is mostly spruce and pines with some aspens and willows. The mountains are as steep as those in West Virginia, but much higher. Rock cliffs jut out of the forest. 

There are also great swaths of loose rock between the trees. Signs warn motorists that these are “snow slide” areas and so parking is prohibited.

I had never before seen anything like this, not even in West Virginia.

We ran into large areas of burnout. Black grass on several hillsides, on others tall trunks of trees with their needles burned off.

A stretch of 10 miles or more where we were told not to stop. Most turnouts were blocked with cones. We saw fire-fighting trucks and ambulances parked in some places, apparently in reserve to fight the big fire not far from here.

We reached Jackson too early to check in, so we went straight to Grand Teton National Park.

Haze from distant fires was very thick in the air. When we first saw the Tetons we had to do a double take to recognize them. We weren’t seeing strange clouds in the sky but glaciated snow in the hollows of gigantic peaks.

We were on a prairie somewhere between 6,000 and 7,000 feet above sea level. Each peak shot up another 6,000 or more.

There they are, just a wall of pointed peaks sprouting out of the plain. The highest, at almost 14,000 feet, is Grand Teton, which is French for “Big Tit.” 

John D. Rockefeller bought the land for the park. He was struck with the fascinating country and unhappy to see random commercial development encroach on it. 

He offered it to the federal government, which dawdled for 13 years before accepting the gift. The park was established in 1929.

We drove the park road along the Teton Range and stopped at a small log church dedicated to the Sacred Heart.

Farther south is the Church of the Transfiguration, an Episcopal chapel.

Both churches to the 1920s or 1930s, and were built to serve tourists drawn to the dude ranches in the area.

Most of the eateries in town are tourist traps. The Million Dollar Cowboy Bar, for instance, has steaks that run from $48 to $69. I don’t pay that in New York, which is the most expensive place I’ve ever been.

Then I found the Gun Barrel Steak and Game house, which is about a mile up the road from the motel. 

They have craft ales, like most of the places we’ve found in the West.

I tried thee local ales, Grand Teton Sweetgrass American pale ale, Melvin IPA, and Snake River pale ale. They were all reasonably bitter. The IPA was decidedly fragrant. If we had taken dessert, that’s the beer I’d want to drink with it.

The meal, though, was the star attraction. It was a mixed grill of game meats: a bison rib-eye, an elk steak, and a venison bratwurst. It was more than enough for the two of us.

Joanna is adventurous in many ways with food. She will eat chicken feet, pork tendon, and parts of animals that are conventionally discarded in the States. 

But she won’t eat rare red meat. Pink she can sometimes handle, but not bright red.

The restaurant suggested that elk and bison be ordered rare or medium rare. We opted for medium rare. 

The rib-eye was mostly red and the steak was red in the center. Joanna took the edges of the steak, which were closer to medium. The brat was no problem, so she shared that with me easily. I had the red rib-eye to myself

Joanna doesn’t drink much. Sometimes she will have a half glass of wine with a meal. She usually sits next to me in bars and sips a taste of what I’m having.

She agreed with me about the IPA. She liked that. 

Dead animals are big thing out here. We see lots of mounted heads, but also many full-size stuffed deer, horses, elk, buffalo, wolverines, prairie dogs, just about anything that used to walk.

As we came up to the door of the Gun Barrel, there was a tableau in the window involving a stuffed rattlesnake confronting an animal I can’t identify. 

It looks like a small pig with huge incisors. It’s about the stature of a mid-size dog and has a ridge of fur down its back.

Saturday, the 30th, we were tired, so we took it easy. We went to the center of Jackson and walked around for a couple of hours. 

There is a local museum that focuses on Indian artifacts in its main location and on homesteaders and settlers in an annex about a block away.

There was a case showing the stages of making a horn bow. These bows are made of reshaped bighorn sheep horns and are reinforced with sinew and hide glue. According to the exhibit, they were the most powerful weapons in North America before the introduction of firearms.

The Shoshone,who lived in the mountains and hunted sheep rather than buffalo, made the bows, which were traded over great distances.

We walked into a few shops, bought a charm for Joanna’s bracelet that has a golden moose in front of the Grand Tetons. (All much reduced in size, of course.)

We also the Town Square, which is officially named the George Washington Memorial Park. It was dedicated in 1932, when Washington turned 200. 

Jackson is a wildly popular vacation spot where I had to book weeks in advancew and even then was stuck staying at an overpriced Motel 6. 

Even Santa Claus vacations here. We saw him—long white hair, even longer beard—napping on the grass.

Each corner of the square has an entrance with an arch made of elk antlers.

We had dinner at a Chinese restaurant proudly advertising “no MSG.” No interesting beer, either. I had a local lager from a brewery named Jenny Lake, which is a feature in the Grand Teton park. Proceeds support the park foundation. I think that made it taste better. 

For a lager, it was pretty damned good. It was amber and had plenty of hops. It did have the lager aftertaste, though.

I had chicken chow mein, served with black bean sauce. I always like black bean sauce, but served over those pan-fried noodles, it is one of my favorite dishes. 

Joanna, who loves vegetables, had an assortment sauteed with tofu. That was also tasty, especially when we put black bean sauce on it.

Not ready to pack it in, we went back to town. We went into the Cowboy Bar. They don’t have bar stools. They have saddles on posts. 

No thanks. I gave up toy horses when I was 10. 

They also don’t have draft beer. So we walked across the street to the Town Square Tavern. 

They have a balcony that overlooks the square, and until the rain started, it was full of people. The rain comes sideways here because of the wind. So people made a mass exodus from the balcony to the building.

The bar only had a half-dozen taps. I had a Deschutes Fresh-Squeezed IPA, which I’ve had before and knew was good.

Right now, I’m finishing Bitch Creek Extra Special Brown from Grand Teton Brewing. I bought that and a couple of other local ales in the package goods store attached to the Town Square Saloon.

Jackson isn’t great. It’s a tourist clip joint designed to look quaint and expensive. But at least it isn’t Utah.

Now, as my friend Santa Claus would put it: Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.

Harry