Winter 2022 was a long one for us. Thank goodness we took up chicken farming. While Spring 2023 brought about a couple of outings to the Swell and to the Island in the Sky, and as much as I like the guys I went with, those miles weren’t spent with Mindy. June busted this trend when we were able to get away from the Bountiful Farmhouse and back to the Tetons, chickens notwithstanding.

The third weekend in June gave Mindy a three-day weekend (all my weekends are seven-day), and with a couple more days off, we took to the Continental Divide in the cradle of the Grand Teton and Yellowstone National Parks.

The plan was to camp the first night at Lizard Creek, a beautiful campground I discovered with Brian on the Pearls on the Strand ride we did last year, and then spend the next day exploring dispersed camping options for the rest of our stay. The spot I reserved at Lizard Creek wasn’t far from where we camped the year before and as we approached our site I found baseline-happy, that feeling a traveler gets when everything works out for the moment.

Driving into Lizard Creek along the John D. Rockefeller Jr. Highway we could see that the water level of Jackson Lake had risen dramatically from my previous visit. Brian snapped a frame last year of the north end of the lake that laps up to the campground, except there was no lapping, the shoreline had receded dramatically. This year it was back.

And with the water came mosquitos. We were able to abate the majority of which with some Skin So Soft repellant I had leftover from the previous trip where I didn’t need to use any. Good stuff, effectively staving off swarm after swarm as we set up the WRōV for the night. We decided to sleep in the WRōV that first night given our remoteness and spotting bear on the way in.

We discovered never-before-attempted contortions in changing into sleepwear and getting into our mummy bags inside our little camper. Over night I’d realize that our shower curtain set-up on the rear hatch would provide ample privacy and room to change back into our street clothes in the morning. Which it did.

Coffee and oat meal à la mosquito kicked us off for the next day where we searched for the top dispersed campsite on my list, a lovely spot not far from the Snake River between GTNP and YNP, giving us a central location to basecamp and explore the area, but the road to which was still closed for the winter. The alternative dispersed spot was Shadow Mountain, an hour’s drive back beyond the Tetons. Adjacent the Grassy Lake dispersed spot was an actual campground, the Flagg Ranch Headwaters Campground and RV park, and they had one tent spot left for the manager’s discretion to fill. She must have liked me. We set up our Kingdom tent, not having escaped our blood-sucking companions, and quickly bugged out for a day of exploring the Grand Teton National Park.

The cab of the WRōV is a sacred space for us. Besides giving us the vantage of our travels, it is the place where we disclose, converse and laugh and cry. During our drive, Mindy asked if she could pose an inappropriately awkward question. I said, “I think you just did.” She hesitated and fumbled a bit, and then thought better of it.

“No, some things are probably better left unsaid.” Well, now she had to ask.

“What do I do with your body if you die in your sleep while we’re out here?”

“Let’s see… I’ll already be in my mummy bag, so just zip it up, pull the string around the head opening until it’s closed, then go get a roll of plastic wrap. When you have me cocooned, throw me in the back of the WRōV and take me home. That’s why I built that platform back there.”

Silence.

Then, “But is that legal? There’s all kinds of things you have to do to transport a body across state lines.” Of course, she was right. I dealt with that mess (and ignored it) with the ashes of my parents. Certainly there was, at the very least, some paperwork to complete when hauling the corpse of your dead husband back to Utah.

This is our new normal. We’ve crushed all the eggshells at our feet and have reached a rare level of conversation, a candid exchange during which there is absolutely no judgement. Anyone in love should reach this benchmark.

Like we do, we talked about some hypotheticals, but still found our curiosities unsatisfied, so on our way we stopped at the Grand Teton Medical Clinic to ask a few questions. The first clinician we met was a very young, masked woman. “Hi,” I said, suddenly emptied of courage, “I might have an unusual question for you.” She waited. “I have Mantle Cell Lymphoma, and it’s pretty clear I’m relapsing with symptoms of a failing spleen…” and I couldn’t find the words.

“What we want to know is, if he dies while we’re out here, what do I have to do to legally get his body back home? Can I just put him in the back of our truck?” Mindy asked, and the clinician showed no registration of the question. An older, masked male clinician came around the corner, giving us the looky-look. “I’m not looking for anything clinical,” I said, “we were just wondering and we don’t want this hanging over our heads for the rest of our trip.”

“I’m assuming you (Mindy) have power of attorney?” He asked. And we both affirmed that we had all the stuff taken care of. “Then I don’t see any reason why you couldn’t take him home.”

Phew. Settled. On the way out we wondered how that brief exchange might be talked about the rest of the day in that little clinic. We got back in WRōV and made our way to the first real stop of the day.

The first shutter-release was at Oxbow Bend on the Snake River, the cover image for this post. The rain’s tempo was increasing and all other ambient noise faded away and this frame set the tone for the rest of our journey – a peak experience.

From the bend we backtracked to the Teton Park Road, crossed the Jackson Lake Dam and wound our way into the majesty of the Tetons.

This was our fourth visit here, and the weather was consistent with each tour. I don’t know what this place looks like in sunshine, in fact, I can’t imagine it. A blue sky would fail in giving this place the depth and drama it deserves.

We picked up the Jenny Lake Scenic Route and stopped for lunch out of the WRōV at the String Lake Trailhead. Then on to the overlook where we sat a long while and watched everything. Through our field glasses I spied the west shore boat dock and the throngs of people making their way up Inspiration Point. I followed the line of hikers up to Cascade Canyon and said to Mindy that I could see switchbacks. Another couple heard me and told us about the hike, something they were planning to do the next day. It looked incredible, confirmed by yet another pair of hikers who came from there, enticing us all the more.

We got a better look and understanding of the logistics of hiking Cascade Canyon at the Jenny Lake Visitors’ Center, me being put off by the hike’s description of strenuous. That ruled it out for me and therefore for Mindy, much to my chagrin.

We picked up the road to Lupine Meadows and sat once more to watch the vapors stream and the waters fall at Glacier and Broken Falls.

That filled the day for us and we headed back to the Headwaters to finish setting up camp and make dinner.

Blocked by the WRōV in the image above is our Kingdom tent where we decided to sleep instead of in the truck’s interior, giving us the luxury of room and yet hoping the somewhat concentrated human population of the campground would stave off bears, where, actually, it is more attractive to them. In our naiveté, though, we slept like hibernating bears.

Camping and travel in general have their rituals, preparing coffee being paramount among them as if our own civility were reinforced this way despite living in our car.

Our galley boasts a range of civilized coffee preps including pour-over, percolated and French press. I’ve yet to find a little espresso machine that will fit in that slot between the sink/stove pull-out and the fridge.

This day was Yellowstone Day, by way of the south entrance and along the shoreline of Lake Yellowstone.

It’s worth noting that Wylie’s Canteen at the Lake Lodge has displaced the top burger on my best list (sorry Ray’s Tavern), with their Wylie Burger. I managed to eat the whole thing, though the room in my stomach seems to be diminishing and the organ would likely protest this ingestion a little later. Some things are worth the risk.

The Grand Loop Road took us past all things Yellowstone, giving me the same heebeegeebees as I have when crossing any suspension bridge. In case you are unawares, this particular national park perches on a caldera, also known as Supervolcano, with plenty of evidence of steaming spouts and boiling mud to support such a geobombastic claim.

I kept an eye out for Pierce Brosnan in his righteous built Suburban scurrying along the surface roads, but the WRōV would have to suffice. I have to admit, it got its share of wary glances.

Here I was thinking this caldera must be the biggest in North America with over 1200 hundred square miles of area. But no, calderas aren’t measured by area, but instead by pyroclastic debris, the record of which is held by the Wah Wah Springs Caldera just west of Frisco, Utah. I had no idea. What the hell. Literally.

We love water features and the Yellowstone River did not disappoint.

At Mammoth Springs we made another discovery, Fort Yellowstone, the home for US Soldiers who fought in the domestic war against poachers, vandals, and developers right up until 1918. What a post! I’m thinking maybe they should bring it back because it appears our current NP Rangers are stretched a bit thin.

A note about the use of the word springs in Yellowstone attraction titles. Another little epiphany I had was the trope I had formed around this word with a snapshot of lush, green grass inundated by a cool, fresh source of water coming up from underground. It has an entirely different meaning in Yellowstone.

We made no stops on the way back from Mammoth Springs to our campsite. The now old, familiar fiend of pain was amplifying in my thoracic, up my spine into my neck and head and my left shoulder. It draws a shade over my brain’s vision, like the black nylon trick I used with a filter over a motion picture lens to increase contrast and give some edge to the scene. And the dizziness. Maybe it was time to come home.

We planned five days, returning Monday, and here it was only Saturday and my body felt like it had enough. I slipped off into sleep not long after dinner and kept on for twelve hours.

Fathers’ Day dawned. I made breakfast burritos out of the WRōV kitchen and we debated the direction for the day; home, West Yellowstone, or more of the GTNP. The latter won out with a side hustle up Shadow Mountain to see the dispersed camping area we chose to forego. This off-road trail took us up to camp spots and vistas of the Teton Range, which, were they not covered in mist, would’ve been spectacular. It was all beautiful, a new way-point on any return. We pulled into site eleven where we found a note held in place by rocks, date 5/30, stating, “Chased away grizzly in site 12.” We wondered if the note was as much warning as it was reference to the author’s last stand.

We’d seen bears along the way, a Black bear and a Grizzly. They’re not hard to miss by the throngs of temporarily insane tourists and Wildlife Management personnel fighting diligently to keep those two worlds from colliding. One such gawker managed to ditch his Tahoe, upending its left rear wheel three feet off the ground while the front right dug into a run-off trench on the side of the road. We pulled him out with the WRōV’s winch.

We came through Antelope Flats back to the outer park road and went on into Jackson for dinner. We ate at the Roadhouse Pub and Eatery where I came across my new mantra.

Indeed.

Sunday was also the second day of constant rain, which at that point had inundated the footprint under the Kingdom tent and puddled through its pan, making the interior squishy, so we opted to sleep back in the WRōV. It was nice to have this option.

We packed up camp Monday morning in the rain, the wet Kingdom textiles being stowed up in one of the cases up top and made the beautiful way back home to Bountiful.