Grand Teton National Park
Auntie roused Matthew and me this morning with a mysterious proclamation: “I have a surprise for you two! Wear long pants. Bring shorts to change into afterward.” Matthew and I, groggily fighting to go back to sleep, simply rolled over and batted her away. Matthew muttered to me, “It's probably just her idea of a surprise. She probably just bought a new jar of jam.”
Thankfully, Matthew was wrong.
My suspicions intensified when I was asked to sign over my life at the office, admitting that in the event of my death, I deserved it. At last, we pulled up to a corral: we were to go horseback riding in the Grand Tetons!
It was my first time on a horse in years upon years, the same for Auntie. It was Matthew's first time ever. We each were given a separate horse. Matthew's was named Porsche, Auntie's Orphan Annie, or 'Orphan' for short (why not 'Annie' for short, we kept wondering), and mine Red Rose. The people working at the corral were incredibly friendly and personable, very knowledgeable and comforting. One guy was from Georgia, a gal from Texas--both of them working the best summer job I had ever heard.
The ride was supposed to be for one hour; we were out for about three and a half. It was glorious!It was incredibly relaxing to feel the gentle plodding of the horse between my thighs, amazing to see the Grand Tetons from this vantage point. Red Rose could even sense when I wanted a shot, and she would slow down or stop altogether for me. Orphan, however, had terrible allergies and insisted on wandering off the trail to rub her belly on sage, much to Auntie's bewilderment and my amusement. Matthew and Porsche seemed to get along perfectly.
Not only were we on horses, but we were also privy to an interpretive tour led by the lead Texan girl, a marketing major in college. She showed us fallen trees that bears had bounced on and split open to get to the insects inside. She told us that all the trees in an aspen grove are interconnected, and technically consist of one enormous organism. Until quite recently, the largest living organism on Earth was an aspen grove in Oregon, but it has recently been surpassed by some gargantuan mushroom somewhere. She told us about the flood patterns of Christian Creek, and the man it was named after. She told us where to find a moose, why the sage grows so prevalently here, and what that glint of metal is in the glacier atop Mt. Moran. She knew Indian sign language and the consequent miscommunication with the French. She was pretty amazing.
After the ride, we drove along a scenic road and waded into Jenny Lake, named for Jenny Leigh, an Indian wife who died of smallpox with her children. She was serene, tucked away, and positively warm compared to the glacial water to which we had grown accustomed.
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