Bridger-Teton National Forest, Wy.: An Unsimple Twist of Fate

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Entry 31: Bridger-Teton National Forest, Wy.: An Unsimple Twist of Fate
Sunday, August 30, 2010

Another Late Start…

Getting a late start leaving the Craters of the Moon National Monument, I felt some of the same “antsiness” that I had experienced returning from last year’s 5-week trip—slow going. True, I had spent all day exploring Craters of the Moon and its new-to-me landscape, but I rationalized that I wouldn’t have the chance to visit, possibly ever, again. But, in the back of my mind, the 1,200+ miles to go were still looming large. Now, at only 4 ½ hours to sunset, I wouldn’t be going too far tonight.

Back on Hwy 20 towards Idaho Falls, I headed east, passing small hills and staring into the sunlit road ahead of me. I buzzed into Idaho Falls, ignoring the most direct route to Yellowstone, its gentle lull calling me to revisit the park (I had spent 10 days there last year). But, even at only 90 miles West Yellowstone, I realized that the Park wasn’t a “drive-by” situation, and spending a day driving through was worse than not being able to visit at all—it’s certainly too special for an end-of-the-trip tack on…

It was my goal instead to take scenic route Hwy 26, which travels 70 miles down to the small town of Alpine. I would drive until at least the Caribou National Forest in Eastern Idaho; if I could make it, I would travel into Western Wyoming into the Bridger-Teton National Forest, as a Forest Service Road indicated that it passes close to the “Grand Canyon of the Snake River.”

Knowing that I still had a long way to go, I was tired, and the drive through the Caribou seemed long. I hit Alpine, crossing my old friend Hwy 89, a road that I had the pleasure of traveling extensively on last year; after Yellowstone, I had spent a night viewing the Tetons from the Bridger-Teton forest, and then spent the last night somewhere—I thought—close to Hoback Junction, at the intersection of Hwys 89 and 189, 20 miles south of the Tetons.

Crossing the Idaho/Wyoming state line, I knew that I was too tired to travel further north to that intersection, where, tomorrow, I would loop around on 189 South to 191 South, and onto Interstate 84, my now-chosen route East back to Chicago (I still had to travel through Wyoming, Nebraska, Iowa, and Illinois). In Alpine, I decided to pass over Hwy 89, find the Forest Service Road, and attempt to find the “Grand Canyon of the Snake River.” I drove East through the small town of 550 to the only dirt road that headed up into the hills.

Enter the Gatekeeper…

Passing a couple of blocks of shabby trailers, at the official sign for the Bridger-Teton National Forest, a police officer sat in his car. Pulling up, I said, “I know that you’re working and not an information service, but do you offer directions?”
“All the time,” he said, stepping out of his vehicle to take a closer look inside mine (I was guessing that the extra security was to prevent locals from going into the woods to party or do meth).
I pointed to the line on the Road Atlas and said, “Does this road lead to this canyon?”
“No,” he said, “You’d have to travel 20 miles up 89 to catch that.”
“Does this forest offer good dispersed camping?” I said.
“Well…the bridge is out 22 miles in, so you can only go back in that far, but, yeah, there’s great camping up there. This is Wyoming’s largest un-dammed river.”
“Well…I’m too tired to go back that far, but I’ll go in a couple of miles…”

I thanked him for the time and pavement to the gravel and dirt road; the trees thickened, and the large river rolled downhill past the truck on the left. It was about an hour before sunset, and I was glad to be reaching the forest before dark.

A mile in, I crossed the river; another mile in was the first turn off leading to dispersed camping. I passed another ½ mile later. A third was occupied. Now I could find a place to stop (I rationalize that if a serial killer were to visit this particular National Forest, he wouldn’t travel any far back than he needs to reach a victim).

At five miles in, I veered right at a dirt road on a hill…Wait a minute…

I could not believe my freakin’ eyes…

Here was the exact same spot that I had chosen to camp at 1 year and 18 days ago!

The exact same spot! I could not believe it, and for 20 minutes, involuntarily mumbled, “Un-F’in believable…!”

Flashback to 2009…

Last year, I was two weeks into my 2009 trip, and two days from picking up Jennifer from the St. Lake City airport. Having spent over a week in Yellowstone and the Tetons, I headed south. Here’s what I wrote about the spot in 2009:

… , I hope to find something in the (not too far back) Uinta Mountains, so the drive into the largest city that I’ve seen in three weeks not too overwhelming a task.

So, at only 12 miles south of Jackson, at Hoback Junction, I go west and south on Hwy. 89. Passing about 4-5 National Park campgrounds (on the Snake River), I was holding out to enter the Bridger-Teton area, as there are a number of dirt roads indicated on the Atlas that bisect the entire range. South of Alpine, I took a left into the National Forest and was pleasantly surprised to find a spot with creek (river) access, with a short dirt road leading into a small clearing on a (seems to me) roaring river. .. I float through the riverbank’s eddies, floating on my back in slow, cool circles.
It felt so good to be camping down near rushing water, and I flipped and flopped in it like a kid.
After coming back up the riverbanks to the campsite, I found the comb and gave Sophie a good brushing as we drip-died. Afterwards, Sophie, gloriously off-leash, and I walked north on the dirt Forest Service Road, picking up trash. I had spent a fair amount of time gathering all trash from the campsite, including cans (do they still make Fanta?!), fishing Styrofoam, fishing line, and the casings of at least 10 bullets, including a 30-30 shell, rather large in size and a downer to see in such a peaceful area…Once again, I had found the perfect campsite…And now, since the dark, morning clouds had broken up by 10:30 a.m., precisely on cue, as predicted by the fisherperson, it’s time to hit the relaxing water again…

In 2009, I had already traveled over 2000 miles and had found this spot heading south from the Tetons; this year, I had traveled over 4,000 miles, and had found the spot without planning heading from the west.

It was so eerie, that the 6th Sense-Syndrome experienced on the Colonel Bob Peak in Washington returned—maybe I had actually perished after falling asleep on the Idaho Highway, and this was some strange Twilight Zone-version of Heaven, with the cop being St. Peter and the “streets of gold” was actually “rivers of green.” Luckily, with the bridge out 18 miles deeper into the forest, a truck or two rambled by, calming me a bit.

Even though it was close to dark, I donned the goggles for a swim, floating 40 feet down the river, twice. I was looking forward swimming the next day, when the sun would better light the 15-foot deep river. Since it was colder (in the low 50s), I quickly changed clothes, made a nice fire, and enjoyed the great space for the second time.

In the morning, it was quite overcast, and the clouds opened and the cold rain began to fall. I had to rush to pack the tent, collected trash, etc. There would be no lounging around on the riverbank typing the blog this year…

In any case, I had had a great time experiencing such a random coincidence. Come to think of it, I shoulda’ bought a Wyoming lottery ticket. I did entertain the idea of going by the Alpine police station to tell the tale to the cop, but needed to get on the road.

We still had a good 1,300 miles back to Chicago. I knew that I had a 15-hour drive-day in me, but it wasn’t going to be today. I left it open, which, as last night had proven, has always seemed to work really well for Sophie the dog and me. It was my goal to get through the entire state of Wyoming, perhaps dipping down into northern Colorado from Nebraska.

I packed the memories of the great coincidence into the plastic bins, cranked the tunes, and hit the road…

Thanks for reading the blog! Sophie the Dog and Chicago Dave

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