The place we were entering was called Death Canyon.
However, instead of it looking barren or being so tiring as to kill us, we were hoping the name for it came from the fact that it led up to our goal of Static Peak, where lightning strikes often.
We began with an ascent, followed by a descent down to Phelps Lake.
"We are going to hate going back up this on our way out," Nate commented.
Yet again, this canyon, located in the same area as our other hikes, was completely different. Instead of the evergreen forest of the day before, these evergreen trees seemed to be a part of a rainforest. Everything was damp, and the appearance of ferns made it seem even more exotic.
We were passing through an area of the trail where it opened up to a small meadow, and Nate stopped. His outstretched arm pointed to a dark spot near the trees.
A moose!
And she was nursing her baby. We knew that mama moose are considered dangerous, because they will go to great lengths to protect their calves, so we slowly backed up to keep a good distance between us.
A local couple had come up behind us, and all four of us waited while I took some shots of the moose, with the calf hidden behind her. The mama didn't seem in any rush to leave, and we weren't sure what to do. The local couple had done the Death Canyon hike before, and they said the trail curved past the moose, so we shouldn't have to get too close. We let them go ahead of us along the muddy trail, assuming they knew what they were doing.
The trail did curve, and we continued to follow it. It became steep, a rocky mass switching back and forth through the canyon, along a rushing, powerful waterfall created from all the snow that was still melting from the mountain.
After several miles of uphill, we finally made it to the main part of the canyon. A group of brown signs near a deserted cabin marked out our options. I had hoped we were close to the end at that point, but the sign pointing north read "Static Peak Divide, 4."
Four more miles.
We head into what appeared to be a more deserted trail, with most people continuing on the flat path through the canyon to a lake in the distance. Nate really wanted to attempt to summit Static Peak, and although I wasn't confident in my abilities, I started up the path. He always let me lead on uphill parts, so my shorter legs could set the pace instead of attempting to catch up with his long strides.
We passed an open valley where we lost the trail for a while, because the entire valley was filled with remnants of an avalanche. Two-foot diameter trees snapped like they were twigs. Giant evergreen branches that smelled like Christmas, because they were still freshly downed. Tree trunks strewn about like kindling. Imagine the power of snow that could have taken down such root systems.
Up and up. Up and up. Up and up.
At some point, my legs were so tired I could barely feel them. Even my arms and fingers started to tingle with the altitude and exertion.
Nate had picked a place to eat and rest, to contemplate if I could keep going up to the peak ---- "I don't think I can do it," I said, to which he responded, "That's just because you have that word 'can't' stuck in your head," to which I stubbornly responded, "OK, I'll keep going as far as I can."
However, we weren't even to our lunch spot when yet again, we hit a pass with the dreaded white stuff. It wasn't a lot of snow, and it wasn't even a wide pass, maybe 20 feet across. However, just below it, the canyon went straight downhill. It ended at the mass of broken trees at the bottom, and we knew how they had fared with the tumble downhill. There's no way our bodies would survive such a fall if it did occur.
So, disappointed, we turned back once again.
Another lunch of MREs. A trip back along familiar terrain.
We were just entering a section with boulders along a little stream, when Nate pointed out a marmot that scurried into the bushes along the trail.
"It looks so tired. I wonder if we woke it up," Nate said.
We looked around and started to see other brown masses along the rocks. One marmot was flat on its stomach, head down, eyes slightly open to look at us uncaringly. Another was on its side, obviously enjoying the sunlight that finally shone down, making the rocks shimmer after days of clouds. Another marmot was a few rocks away, sleepily looking at us.
"OK, we definitely woke that one up. Apparently it's marmot nap time," I said, and we laughed at the sight of the adorable animals.
Hours later, far downhill, we were just about back to the point where we had seen the mama moose. We were walking along one of the narrowest parts of the trail where you had to walk through a stream that branched off of the river on the other side of the evergreen trees next to us.
Some people stopped ahead of us, and we soon saw why. A cow and bull moose were walking around at the outlet of the watery trail, obviously agitated that we were blocking the only small path through the canyon.
Nate jumped up on a boulder to the left of the trail and gave me his hand, pulling me quickly up with him. Others started to follow us, and the moose looked on with annoyed eyes and bucked heads.
One man stood to the right of the path, holding a walking stick and looking like he wasn't sure why the moose weren't passing by next to him.
"They have a baby hidden nearby I'm sure," Nate said. "They just wanted to pass through the canyon. If we all get out of their way, they'll be able to pass by."
The other people still along the trail climbed up to the boulder as the bull moose ran from the meadowed area down to the trail.
The cow peaked around at us from behind some bushes, not 20 feet away.
The bull moose ended up going to the river and traipsing through the water, then stood on the other side of the path, pawing at the ground and looking at the cow. Finally, she followed suit.
"This is our chance to get out," Nate said, and we quickly scrambled down the boulder and high-tailed it out of the canyon before the moose came back to find us too close to their baby.
We entered the switchback with an overview of the lake and were in awe of the beauty of it with the sun shining. It had been a cloudy trip, one that kept us from overheating, but the photos weren't quite the same without the brilliant blue sky we knew was somewhere up there.
I clicked one last picture.
However, with the sun, the area where we knew would be humid if it ever warmed up because of all the rainforest-like damp plants, was just as we expected. The air became stifling, and we began the ascent up.
"We knew this was going to be horrible," I said, as we panted in the sunshine and humidity.
Going up after we had already made our main descent was something neither of us wanted to do. But we trekked along, and we made it before making the final descent once again to the car.
We drove out of the park for the last time and said good-bye to the Tetons.
A beautiful, serene place for a relaxing, rejuvenating vacation. And we didn't want to leave.
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