Falling Water, Still Lakes and Abandoned Homesteads

 

The Tetons

Grand doesn't begin to describe the superlative quality of this mountain range.

A few hours driving through the park whet my appetite for a longer visit.

My favorite find was Mormon Row,

a lane of abandoned homes and barns erected in the late 1890s by the first settlers.  

Originally 27 homesteads, built close together to share labor and community,

 formed the town of Grovont.

Their voices could be heard in the wind as they lingered on deserted front porches.

Hay Bales

For as far as the eye can see, fields of potatoes and hay cover the plains of Idaho.

Square bales of straw remind of Judd's aluminum boxes.

This novel landscape is a welcome change from the hills I see outside my windows in LA.

In the late afternoon we floated on inner tubes down the Henry's Fork.

The air was warm,

 but the cold river numbed my arms and hands as we steered the tubes from harm's way.

Post dinner, a thunderous storm moved through pelting

the earth with cold droplets and lighting the sky with electric bolts.

Bear Country

Armed with bear spray and an old fashioned gym whistle, 

we crossed into the southwestern corner of Yellowstone to 

hike along the Bechler river.  

An eight mile loop through a dense forest of lodge pole trees spilled into a vast meadow. 

Stillness guided us to a lunch spot

before we continued along the banks of the Bechler.

With a mile to go,

drops of cool rain spilled from the lush canopy.

We've losing track of days, hours, seasons;

sure signs of being on vacation.

A Sense of Time and Space

As I suspected, I'm worse for the wear with only two hours of sleep.

Why the inky darkness of nature feels like a suffocating blanket around my head

is not a question I can answer with logic even if I have eight hours to dedicate to the query. 

Although groggy, I'm thrilled to greet the new day

as it casts warm light on the lake.

We embark on day two of the road trip,

and by late afternoon we're at Mark's in Idaho.

The Henry's Fork river cuts an impressive path through the flawless property.

The guys go for a swim in the cold water.

We're alarmed that the fires in California have reached Idaho.

The weather app reports unhealthy air quality for sensitive groups.

This hellish year knows no bounds.

An orange orb descends into the slant of the pines

as we eat grilled salmon on the deck.

Vacation Derailed

Fires are ravaging northern California staining blue skies smokey gray.

We made a difficult last minute decision to abandon our vacation to Mill Valley.

Delicious anticipation of a week in the redwoods — 

hiking, seeing friends, walking along Stinson Beach and drives up the coast

helped me weather the bleak monotony of a C19 summer.

I did not let go of the vision I had of this much needed vacation with ease.

Within hours we scrapped plans and formed new ones.

A seven hour drive up the coast was replaced with a two day trek to Idaho.

I stayed up late cooking and packing and hit the road early

taking a less traveled route to avoid congestion around Las Vegas.

Vast open arid spaces, still untouched by development,

trigger a dormant romantic sensation for the American west.  

Sadly, smoke from the fires consumed the sky

obscuring the dramatic landscape in the massive basins.

We stopped for the night in Nevada,

scoring the last campsite at Angel lake.  

Shooting stars kept me company as I warded off feelings of claustrophobia 

which often get triggered in a small tent.

Not the most restful night, but I am thankful we salvaged our vacation

and got out of Dodge.