I will admit it: Yellowstone was kind of incredible. Being the kind of person that tries to dislike things with a lot of hype, I did not want to enjoy Yellowstone; but I have to confess: it's Yellowstone for a reason. Everything from the geology to the history, the wildlife to the wildflowers, the lakes to the sulfuric mud pots, were beyond anything I was expecting. Now granted, I am a wee bit of an earth science/geology nerd, which perhaps explains why I so loved seeing the various geysers, fumaroles, mud pots, and hot springs—the boring geothermal features, if you will.
On the drive out of Yellowstone, our prayers were answered. We encountered yet another famous Yellowstone traffic jam, due to a wildlife spotting, so we piled out of the van to join the hordes of tourists lining the road and both banks of a stream. There, sheltering in the willow and sage, was a lone male moose. 
That made our count for Yellowstone alone two coyotes, two grizzly bears, one elk, scads of bison, half a dozen mule deer, and a moose. Not bad given our time frame.
The drive into the Grand Teton National Park was highlighted by me attempting to park the van in front of a sign listing campground availability, but really blocking the stream of traffic exiting Yellowstone, to such an extent that a ranger walked over to help us with our supposed engine problems. She then actually stopped traffic for me to repark the van—my first real bit of parallel parking on the trip. Nerve-wrackingly hilarious.
Now what in the world is a Teton? And what makes this one in particular so 'Grand'? That was what I wanted to know upon pulling through the park. And if this was designated a National Park, just south of mighty Yellowstone, how come I had never heard of it before?
And then there they were. Tall, jagged peaks jutting into the clear blue sky, filled with character and spunk, menace and serenity. They first overlooked a sublime lake, and then fields of grasses and flowers. The lack of foothills surrounding the mountains accentuated the majesty, as the peaks appear to protrude from the field.
What Auntie Cindy and I found mind-blowing was that, in geologic terms, the Teton peaks are mere teenagers in comparison to the Rockies and the Appalachians. Their relative youth helps explain the more angular look of the mountains, as the powers of erosion have had less time to weather away the sharp angles into smooth, rounded domes. Yet the notion that an entire mountain range was so young, so immature was startling. It helps put the passage of time into perspective. After all, it is perception alone that colors much of what we believe we see.
Pulling into the campground at Colter Bay, the old man at the kiosk was so gregarious and convincing, we were sorely tempted to stay at the Grand Tetons longer than the one day we had planned. He revealed to us that he was a UCLA Bruins and California native, before retiring in Arizona. Good man.
That night it rained and our lantern was not working, so we headed to a cafe in the park, where I spotted a man wearing a Pomona College t-shirt. I narrowly resisted the urge to fling myself in his path and accost him. The trip had brought to light many of my concerns and insecurities and neuroses, exacerbating them with the pressure of the sheer mass of everyday tasks I had to accomplish, and that night it all came out. It was ugly, it was explosive, then it was over.
Next thing I knew I needed a new journal and the closest bookstore was in Idaho.
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