Mt. Moran

The Tetons are rugged and impressive in the most beautiful way. They rise like shark fins out of a flat valley floor, calling to the adventurous in both a shout and a whisper. Like all mountain ranges, they reveal their beauty and secrets the deeper you venture within. 

Mt. Moran rising impressively in the background above our canoe.

I picked JT up from the airport in Jackson, WY just before noon on a Thursday. The rented canoe was already strapped to the roof of the truck and we headed straight to the trailhead. The parking lot was packed with cars full of day-hikers and picnickers, which made me long for the solace of the deep mountains even more.

After some last minute gear wrangling and deciding on which luxury items should be excluded, we launched our rented canoe onto the glassy waters of String Lake. A short paddle, a 200 yard portage, and a longer paddle across lake Leigh Lake got us to the base of our objective, Mt. Moran. 

We unloaded our weighty packs, drug the canoe well onto the bank, and set off. It was now the middle of the afternoon. I won’t coddle you with tough-guy talk, the hike was brutal. We were going slow and heavy on this one; lugging 45lb packs of provisions, tents, climbing gear, and a couple of beers apiece 4 miles and 3000 vertical feet to base camp. JT, however, did not seem to be affected.

Notice the difference in our expressions.

We were now well away from the crowds of the popular trailheads, alone and happy, finally experiencing the solace I was hoping to find. I breathed heavily, searching for more oxygen at the bottom of my lungs. The altitude and its thin air proved tough coming from sea-level. Putting one foot in front of the other on a non-existent trail of loose rock, I debated my decision to do this climb without training or taking the appropriate time for acclimatization. JT, meanwhile, was bouncing ahead like Tigger, with enough energy for the two of us. We fed off each other.

The 3000 feet of elevation we gained from the lake to base camp felt like triple that. We arrived at dusk. The sight of flat ground in the midst of a grove of evergreens was like getting let up after a two wave hold down. After relaxing in victory for a short time, we set up camp as quickly as possible. I didn’t have much of an appetite for some reason, but we ate some dried fruit and shared a meal of rehydrated curry. Sleep came quickly for us both.

Waking up on the second day, we set out to tackle a wide, stubby spire that guards the massive headwall of Mt. Moran named Drizzlepuss. We agreed it was an unfortunate name for this feature or any feature. It took a little over an hour to reach the top. From here, we roped up and rappelled a couple hundred feet into the saddle between the feature and the headwall, with the spectacular sight of Falling Ice Glacier now residing below the two of us.

After the rappel and a snack, we tied ourselves together and simul-climbed the 1000ft headwall to the top of Moran. The climbing was easy, in the 5.4-5.5 range, but the setting meant there was no room for mistakes. We were the only people for miles. We gained elevation steadily, and save for some sketchy loose rock and a route finding detour, made it to the top with relative ease. The struggle level was much lower without the 45lb rucksack, even in that vertical terrain.

There is always a feeling of relief, joy, and pride when you accomplish something hard. I would say that the greater the struggle the more pronounced the exhilaration. The only thing that is different in summiting a mountain is that behind the euphoria of achieving your goal, you know you still have to go down. And going down is when a majority of climbing accidents happen.

We snacked and soaked up the smoky views from the summit. It was a bummer the visibility was so low due to the wildfires raging all over the west. After resting for 20-30 minutes and calling our wives, we headed down. The down climbing and numerous rappels had their moments of sketch, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. It was good scared. Makes you feel alive.

The view from the summit (12,605’), looking down on Falling Ice Glacier and Leigh Lake to the East.

My knees and belly longed for camped as we made our way down the very steep slope from the top of Drizzlepuss back to our base camp. Having arrived, I immediately fetched the IPA’s we’d lugged in and cracked a delicious brew for the both of us. A beer has never tasted as good. We were back in time to catch the sunset over The Tetons.

As I sat in the middle of those wild hills, watching the stars reveal themselves in the fading light, listening to the wind start to pick up and howl with an approaching storm, I felt so good. The kind of good you can only feel from pushing yourself and doing hard things. And the kind of amazing I only feel when I’m out in the middle of nowhere.