The Summer Fling (part 1)

It's a storyline as classic and timeless as a Disney movie: an out-of-towner spends their summer in a new place, meets new people, tries new things, and eventually falls in love, knowing that it will all come crashing to an end when the summer ends and its time to leave.

Well, you could say that I had fallen, hard, for the Tetons. 

After leaving my life in Colorado Springs, I set out for Wyoming, hoping that adventures in the alpine would help shake off the dust that had accumulated from sitting behind a desk for two years. At first, this place was reluctant to open up, keeping Vedauwoo enshrouded in fog for the entirety of my four day stay, as I climbed between the drizzles and hid in the dry nooks of stacked boulders. With little luck with the weather, and coming straight from Colorado, I thought that maybe I just wasn't Wyoming's type. Maybe be she'd prefer something a little more western? I remedied the situation by driving straight to Martindale's Western Store in Laramie, Wyoming and equipping myself with a proper piece of cowboy climbing attire: the Stetson.  With this new look, attitude, and general openness to the Western ethos, I voyaged north to Jackson: the land of tourists, traffic, tolls, but also, the Tetons.

Still smiling after realizing we had to bail to the Jackson Hole Emergency Room.

The obsession began with a casual re-acquaintance. It had been three years since I'd last had the chance to tangle with the Grand and that first date had not gone as planned, ending with the rapid descent of a toaster-sized block, and then the rapid descent of my climbing party (lowering my friend Leland and his injured arm one rappel at a time). This time, I had to be more tactful with my approach, knowing full well that this range didn't just give in easily to the average come-on. I'd go it alone at first, just to see what kind of mood the mountains were in, just to see how it feels.





After a lot of thinking, I finally went for the Owen-Spalding and threw my crampons and axe in my pack just in case the Grand decided to give me the cold shoulder and show her icy side. It's a good thing I did, I remember thinking, as I sat on a snowy ledge below the Owen Chimney trying to shake the screaming-barfies sensation out of my hands. The crux of the route was stemming around ice bulges in the chimney while dry tooling with my mountain axe... Despite these icy affronts, the clouds lifted and I was permitted passage to the summit via snow-splattered slabs. It was my first time truly standing on the highest point in the Tetons (we had bypassed the summit in "emergency-evac-WFR" mode on Attempt #1) and the spiney backbone of the range arced to the north and south.

||| IT WAS LOVE AT FIRST SITE |||

||| I INSTANTLY KNEW THAT I HAD TO CLIMB ALL OF THESE PEAKS |||

After that 1st date on the O-S, I have left Jackson several times to explore the surrounding ranges, looking for rocks to scale (an awesome 5-day trip to the Cirque of the Towers, some limestone pocket-pulling at Wild Iris and Sinks Canyon), but as soon as that skyline comes back into the view, I get butterflies in my stomach. When the light is just right, the sun twinkles off the Grand's upper snowfield and catches my eye like the wink from a middle school crush in the lunch-line. Suddenly, you blush, look away, and pretend like you weren't looking. But, inside, you know you can't wait to look back!