Grand Teton (Day 5)

Ten miles of hiking in what the French trappers called "les trois tétons," ha, ha. We're pooped, not just from the physical exertion but the air, I think, the ions, or something.

I adore the mountains. You gotta work hard to get to the good stuff. Hydrocarbon power will only do so much for you. And if you're a small rebel group, they're the best place to take on a large conventional army.

These could be the three big ones here. The Taggart Lake trailhead.

Marmots. This momma's baby was below and boy could she howl at us bipeds.

Hidden Falls.

Atop Inspiration Point. I need to find something to do with dead, skeletal trees in the my art. Mesmerizing.

By 6 in the evening, the crowds at road level had thinned to near nothing and a good quietude had set in. But we weren't armed with bear spray, contrary to everyone's advice and a sub-clause I'm sure exists in the Second Amendment, and it felt like if there were a time for the beasts to come out for a chew on something warm it would be here and now. So we called it a day and headed to our "mountain lodge" in Victor, Idaho.