Above and around Jackson Hole

Jackson Hole is not a small valley. When entering Jackson Hole over Togwotee Pass, the city of Jackson proper still lies further south.

With dinner plans in Jackson, the drive down provided an excursion. In fairness, every drive in the Greater Yellowstone region is an excursion, but Moose-Wilson Road is much wilder than the standard route through the center of the valley. It’s paved to a point, then winds through some wooded hills for a few miles. The rutted road took us through some wilder southern parts of the national park. Some part of Grand Teton needed to be wild (the final stretch will get paved in coming years). 

We passed a pulloff loaded with people staring up the hill where we could not see. Stopping just ahead of the wildlife jam on a little turnout, we saw … something. Barely visible for a second, I spotted dark, probing eyes and a snout. Jess saw it first and I seconded, but a very young bear had been in the underbrush a few feet from the car. 

Don’t ask the age or the species, but it was definitely a bear. That cemented the Moose-Wilson Road as a place for encounters. The next day, NPS would close the road as Grizzly 399 and her four cubs grazed close to the road, giving them some breathing room and a break from gawkers.

Jackson hides in there somewhere

At the end of Moose-Wilson Road, Jess had a surprise. As with most surprises, I had no clue what that might entail. I just knew it involved a pre-dinner drink. We came out near Teton Village, the planned development that surrounds the Jackson Hole Mountain Resort, one of the most challenging ski spots in the country. 

In summer, it was drew a fair amont of people. We passed several bars and restaurants, and I guessed we would soon reach the one she had in mind. Little did I know that the bar was several thousand feet higher and still a few miles away. We hopped onto a Bridger Gondola car, and the cables sped us up the mountain. It beat the open-air ski lifts for sure. 

In fairness, the car never felt especially dangerous. They could only hold a few people, and the line wasn’t more than 30 feet off the ground. It just went a long way up a mountain, and I was not prepared. I thought back to the Sandia Peak Tramway in Albuquerque, with its car that held 30 people, and this ride immediately felt better. 

The two-plus miles passed pretty quickly, and we exited onto The Deck, a giant patio nearly a half-mile above where we started. It was quite the spot for a drink, looking out onto Jackson Hole. Jess had a Malbec while I went with a signature cocktail of huckleberry vodka, huckleberries and lime juice. I’m a noted sucker for anything huckleberry once this far north.

The views were tremendous, even if I could not pick out Jackson among the places in Jackson Hole. Traffic coursed on the few roads through the valley through blood through veins. The Snake River played a central role, whipping around bends and laying course for the canyon south of Jackson.

Gunbarrel

Later I found out you cannot see it from the ski resort, since Jackson sits behind among the soaring buttes in the middle of the valley. But it was easy to enjoy the time up here. The thin air was never a bother. It was a good, unexpected spot for a happy hour drink. 

 The Gunbarrel remains Jackson’s old-school place for steaks and game dishes. This being Wyoming, I would expect anyone ordering chicken could be forced from the restaurant at gunpoint. It is definitely not the place for non-meat eaters. I never looked further than the game portion of the menu. Jess ordered the elk lollipops with huckleberry reduction. I had to order the bison ribs.  

The Gunbarrel has a natural history museum’s volume of taxidermy. Heads adorn the walls. A full bison stands in the front dining room. Other full-size specimens appear throughout the many rooms.

Gunbarrel dinner

We did some people-watching.As the go-to restaurant in Jackson, it draws just as many interesting human specimens. The table near us was full of 20-something guys. Seeing their orders arrive, we wondered if they were not old men in disguise - they all ordered prime rib with a baked potato. All of them. As long they enjoyed the meal, there’s no harm. But it seemed like a decidedly old-school school for so young a crowd. 

The four bison ribs each were nearly a foot long, with a massive hunk of meat the end. With 1.5 ribs of bison meat, we headed out for a night walk around Jackson. 

We stopped up the road and walked the block to Jackson Town Square. A lifetime ago, my friend send me a picture of him standing beneath an arch of elk antlers. Only when walking around Jackson Square, each cornered framed with those signature arches, did I realize where he had been. The last of blue in the sky faded over the buttes that rose over Jackson, so I didn’t even think about a picture. 

The square buzzes at all hours. People of all ages move around the square and its surrounding buildings, some with wooden sidewalks to give an Old West feel. The Million Dollar Cowboy Bar had entirely too many motorcycles out front for comfort. Besides, after happy hour at 10,000 feet, we were chasing dessert.

After the game meat, the focus turned to a new hunt - Ice cream. Jackson Drug place was more or less closed, so we wandered around the corner and founded dozens of options at Moo’s. I went with wild huckleberry as Jess picked a mint chip. 

For a tiny place, Jackson had a bit of a Nashville vibe – I bet there were plenty of folks who came here and spent major coin on items that sounded good after several drinks. Knives, cowboy apparel, Western art - it was here in major volumes. 

The wealth at every turn was staggering, even when cast in a cowboy veneer. Most boutiques had an upscale vibe – gentlemen, those knives are for decoration, not meal prep. Still I was glad for a walk around Jackson. The experience would be incomplete without it, and it was interesting to see the bones of the place known as “the last town of the West.” 

The walk gave us time to finish our ice cream. In two turns around the square, we were out of central Jackson. That’s the beauty of a town this size. In any direction, the night enters quickly. By the airport, most cars had turned off and we fell into total darkness. The high beams mostly stayed on. I could not risk encountering an elk, bear, bison or any mammal on the road. 

Roadside wildlife was thankfully sparse. A coyote moved across the road expediently. Thanks to the high beams, we were mooned by a pronghorn. Otherwise, the wildlife stayed away. I had a mild fears of crossing Grizzly 399 and her cubs on the road. Much as everyone wants to see them, that fortunately did not happen. Soon enough we were back in quiet Colter Bay, a world away from Jackson but somehow in the same broad valley. 

On the square in Jackson