Wagons West, Grand Tetons, Part 1 - Camp

Last week I spent five days in the Bridger-Teton wilderness with my mother in law and a big group of alums from her alma matter. The trip was organized from her undergrad college and included a range of folks from age 5 to 74. We spent four days in the wilderness doing a mix of hiking, wagon riding, and horseback riding. Half the group would ride in the morning while the other half rode in the wagon or hiked behind (guess where I was), and then we switched after lunch. The Wranglers were friendly, professional, and great cooks. By far one of the highlights was spending time with some of the country's last cowboys and hearing their stories.

I'm going to divide this into 2 or 3 posts in order to showcase my pics :) If you know my other gmail alias you can find the full pics on my picasa page. 

We arrived in Jackson Hole on Tuesday. Jackson has never been on my radar but it's too bad because it was really beautiful. It's also beautiful in that yuppie, Vail, CO, super touristy sort of way... but really pretty nonetheless.

They're really big on these antler arches. One of the Elk Refuge feed lots is right outside of Jackson and in the winter they collect the dropped antlers and make these arches. 

Wednesday morning we got rustled up in a van and headed out to the Cow Patty Base camp. My biggest concern about this whole thing was the lack of bathroom... but in addition to the wagons and full chuck wagon/kitchen, they had a mobile porta potty.

The wagons slept 4 to a wagon and the tents were 2 people (+1 kid). 

 Our first thought was wagon = padded sleeping area = more comfortable. What we didn't anticipate is wagon = holes = drafty = fucking freezing when temps drop below freezing at night. Everyone spent the first night shivering and cold. By the second night we figured out that doubling up the sleeping bags was a good fix. Of course the wranglers kept telling us that the solution was to sleep naked - but I think that was just a ploy. (to some extent they were right, layers of cotton aren't good insulators, but the new insulating tech fabrics insulate just fine).

We joined up with an alum from C's college years and an '02 grad who was my age. Together we formed the rockin' Single Ladies Wagon.

Our wagon!

C and I were picked as part of the morning group, which meant we rode in the afternoons. The wagons would go out about 2 hours, stop for lunch, and then we'd switch with the horses. On the one hand, being in the morning group meant doing the easier, kid-oriented, afternoon rides. On the other hand, it also meant I got to hang out with the 3 professional historians on the trip! An Emeritas Carleton prof (started in Tudor England and then became a historian of the West), and 2 UCSD profs (Early modern Spain and Ancient Byzantine (she works' on gender and eunuchs). After several months of little-to-no-historian contact, this was like winning the lottery. We had some fantastic conversations about research, pedagogy, and working one's way through the archives in Franco's Spain.

Morning Wagon 

Tomorrow I'll talk more about the scenery, but for now, here's a view from our wagon:

One of the things that really struck me was a newfound respect for the pioneers of the American West, and the desperation people must have felt to get out of the East. On the one hand, the West was abundant with game and offered more meat than most East coast urban residents could have believed. The fresh air at 8K ft is invigorating, and the views are breath taking. But wagons are bumpy, cold, finicky beasts, and that's with a modern suspension and tires. My family waited until the 1970s to come west, but I have a newfound respect for the men, women, and children who braved the journey earlier.