This is the hardest part of the day and I force myself out of my warm bag and climb into my cold trousers and rapidly don my fleece. My boots are carefully sheltered under the fly of the outer tent and I quickly pull my wool socks onto my feet and strap in my feet for another 12 hours of fun.

Exiting the tent I am relieved to see that the sky is clear and blue. There is the anticipation of another glorious day. It is at dawn that we pay the price as without cloud the air is at its coolest. Often it is possible to detect the arrival of overnight cloud by the sudden increase in the air temperature.

The scene is completely transformed from my last nocturnal visit outside. No longer menacing I look around me and drink in the differing vistas. Hands firmly in my pockets and fleece tightly zipped to the neck I stumble around encouraging my legs and stiff muscles to loosen. My knee still grumbles but my body is by now semi immune to the discomfort. It occurs to me that I have been living above 9,000 ft for almost a week

My companions are already up and have retrieved our stored food hanging from a nearby tree. The stove is noisily roaring away heating the water and whilst I wait for it to boil I retrieve my plastic bowl and search through the breakfast bag for my cereal of choice. Water boiled, breakfast is served and  greedily consumed taken standing up to be followed by instant black coffee.

I leave my sleeping bag airing over a convenient rock slab, carefully weighed down by rocks just in case a gust of wind catches it. My backpack stored away from the tent and hidden under a rain cover is retrieved.

Breakfast over it is time to attend to the morning ablutions. This can be the more interesting right of passage for those trekking wild for the first time. It is necessary to dig a hole about 6 inches deep in a suitable location for one's toilet. Forsaking the additional weight of a trowel we use rocks or small branches to dig. It can be quite a challenge as invariably depending on the ground, the digging process, takes some time and the need sometimes can become shall we say pressing. That said I challenge any restroom (toilet) to have the views of my own outdoor restroom.

There are a couple of more “gotcha” to be observed. Firstly urine must not go in the same hole – otherwise wild animals are attracted to the salt that it contains and will dig up the pit. Secondly used paper must be either burned on the camp fire or packed out. It’s very useful to carry a supply of plastic bags for this purpose. It’s not as gross as it all sounds and after a couple of days becomes second nature and no big deal.

Hygiene is very important as I don’t want a dodgy stomach out here so I am very careful to clean my hands using an alcohol based hand wash that evaporates as my hands are rubbed vigorously together. A clean of my teeth (toothpaste residue carefully scattered to the wind) and the insertion of my daily disposable contact lenses and that’s the morning ablutions completed. Soap is not really practical and after the first day you no longer notice the dirt or the smell. In fact it all seems very natural to be with greasy hair and unshaven face.

It does explain why hats are so popular and I certainly would not be without mine – not only does its peak keep the sun out of my eyes, it keeps my unruly hair under control. When living in such primitive conditions its amazing how ones priorities change. Of course it helps when you don’t have a mirror although I must confess to cheating once and using the mirrored lenses of my Oakley sunglasses to inspect the sun damage to my face!

My feet are inspected and a couple of zinc plasters applied to some dodgy looking areas – prevention being better than cure.

We restock our water obtained from a nearby stream – this is purified by a chemical process using Chlorine Dioxide – created by mixing two chemical together in a little plastic cup that turns an agreeable bright yellow before the tipping the solution into my water bottles, shaking and leaving 30 minutes before consumption. The oxygen released by the Chlorine Dioxide is apparently so concentrated that it kills the bugs. An advantage is that there is no chlorine taste or smell to the water.

I am by now proficient in re-packing my backpack and follow a choreographed process. Sleeping bag at the bottom, carefully packed in a waterproof bag, followed by tent inner and out fly. Carefully squeeze in my filled camelback water carrier, the hose threaded out through a purpose built hole to be clipped to my right shoulder strap. On top of this and in the surrounding cavities I push my spare clothing, plastic cutlery and plate. Near the top goes the food (I am responsible for carrying our lunches so don’t wish to unpack my pack at lunch or crush the food). On the outside goes my sleeping pad, in the two outside hip pockets my 1 litre Nagalene water bottles and in the top pocket my camera and glasses. The tents poles are attached to outside clips.

No fire last night – we are in a restricted area so there is no fire stone to clean and scatter the ashes. Additionally as there is a fair breeze this morning there are no mosquitoes to torment us. If they are around they are shooting passed unable to land.

My nylon trekking trousers have leg portions that handily unzip thereby converting them into shorts. Ever the optimist and from previous experience I remove the legs and expose my legs to nature. It takes very little time to warm up when carrying a full load so we tend to start lightly dressed (quite a contrast to our dress at dawn, only an hour or so ago) thereby avoiding an early stop shed excess clothing.

I final check of the site – apart from some crushed grass (what luxury that was) there is no evidence that we were ever there – exactly the way we like so leave our sites, and we are off into another day on the trail.

I wonder whom we shall meet today – so far out in the back country we only seem to meet the motivated, those who have a certain outlook on life. Without fail all our encounters have been friendly and enjoyable. I also wonder what views there will be to eagerly digest and what challenges there are to be faced. There is certain simplicity to my current outdoor living and I feel my life is complete away from the pressures of modern life and the noisy bustle of so called civilisation.

In deciding on our site we need to be bear aware and ensure that our cooking area is well away from our sleeping area and that anything that might have food odour is not stored in the tents. Bears have very sensitive noses and have been know to rip backpacks apart to eat toothpaste left within. Likewise any water used in washing up must be disposed off safely away from the site. Any rubbish that cannot be burnt on the camp fire, we must pack out for disposal and this must be stored well away from where we sleep.

I carefully check my chosen pitch removing any visible stone and twigs – my tent only has a very thin groundsheet and I fear it could be easily pierced. I suppose I should be grateful as its one loaned to me by the holiday organisers and is roomy – officially a two man, but at 8lb it adds to my burdens. My travelling companions have much lighter (and smaller) tents. So far it has withstood the elements efficiently, but one thing that has occurred to me is that the inner tent must be erected before the fly sheet can be attached. Not a problem today, but if it were raining I would have a wet inner tent before attaching the fly.

Whilst the air is still, this evening we are lucky as there is an absence of mosquitoes and horse flies. On other evenings despite liberal use of DEET it has been all but intolerable and my legs and back bear witness to the ferocity of the assaults even through my clothing. The horse flies are particularly gross – unlike normal flies they are easily swatted but if not swiftly removed they leave a red smear on my leg – my blood that they have ingested.

Having set up camp and located our water sources its time for one of the hi-light of the day – dinner.

It’s almost impossible to describe how obsessive one becomes about food in the back country. The food we eat is very basic and is cooked by re-hydrating and heating on a stove that we carry (not all areas allow camp fires). For some reason as the altitude increases your sense of taste seems to decrease, so food with a strong flavour is to be welcomed. Tonight our dinner is macaroni cheese with pasta and even in a plastic bowl it tastes delicious. This finished we have a further treat in store for afters – a couple of biscuits each.

There is a saying “Absence makes the heart grow stronger” well an absence of “goodies” make you appreciate them all the more when you have some. Consequently all food is to be savoured and slowly chewed to ensure that the flavour is appreciated.

Our eating bowls cleaned using the residual hot water boiled for our instant coffee, its time to carefully re-bag all the food and look for suitable tree to hang it safely away. To the observer this in itself can be highly entertaining as occasionally the rope unexpectedly snags or the chosen branch is unable to sustain the combined 50lb weight of the separate dinner, lunch and breakfast bags which hurtle back to terra firma.

Dinner over there is an opportunity for reflection on the day and a chance to update the journal that I have been carefully keeping.

With the coming of evening the light starts to fade and the warmth of the day falls away. This is a magical time of day and marks the difference between being out for a days walking and trekking. As the temperature drops the only option is to add more layers of clothing.

The sun may blaze at first, but slowly the reds and yellows deepen and darken, their brightness fading as they merge with the deepening blue of the sky. The previous clarity and clearness of mountain, lake and trees become monochrome and indistinct.

As the sky fades from blue to black the first stars appear and as night falls it is as if a switch has been thrown as more stars and even planets become visible. So bright and many are the stars it is easy to become overwhelmed by the wonder and beauty of it all.

By now it is completely dark and time to retreat to the comfort of my tent. Whilst it is not yet 9pm the routines of the back country are considerably different to those of the urban environment and governed by sunrise and sunset. After a day of vigorous exercise, as I wrap myself in the warm cocoon of my sleeping bag, sleep comes easily as by now attuned and comfortable with the outside sounds of nature I am no longer disturbed.

I wake during the night. Whilst my sleeping mat is comfortable the ground despite my best efforts in selecting my site is not flat and I find myself sliding off my mat. Constricted in my bag squirming like a worm I move myself back onto my mat. My mouth is dry and in the dark I free an arm and feel for my camelbak’s tube carefully sited near my head, following the trail back to the mouthpiece and valve, where I greedily suck on the cool water quenching my thirst for the first of many times during the night.

This all comes at a price and eventually the call of nature insistent and persistent can be postponed no longer. Unwillingly I unzip my bag and wriggle out of my warm oasis, feeling blindly around the tent floor for my head torch and glasses. Even though it is anticipated the brightness of the light still comes as a shock to my eyes. Sandals located in the quietness of the night the noise of the unzipping inner tent door seems almost deafening.

Opening the outer fly door the cool night’s air floods in and unsteadily I stand. The light from my head torch cuts a path through the blackness but there is still a wall of darkness to either side of wherever I look. Carefully picking my way past the tent guys I move across uneven ground a short distance to find a suitable spot and the deed is done. It is still the night and having briefly extinguishing my torch the stars shine as brightly as ever. Looking up I am almost overwhelmed by the number which seem to fill the night sky from horizon to horizon and I feel very small and insignificant..

Torch back on I head swiftly back to my tent closing the doors and returning to the still lingering warmth of my bag. Comfort restored sleep comes rapidly.

To be continued 

It is mid afternoon and the sun is beating down with an intensity to which I am unaccustomed,  the air dry and baking hot. I could be walking at home in the United Kingdom but the altitude is much higher and I am far away from so called civilisation. If it were not for the occasional jet, passing high overhead adverting its presence by a thin white contrail, I could be back in another century.

I am in Grand Teton National Park in the American state of Wyoming and for the last six days I have been living outdoors "wild" in the back country. No showers, no campsites and no toilets. I ponder how the early pioneers coped with this environment – at least for me it is mid summer, the weather warm and I possess good equipment. I also have the benefit of a map and the knowledge of what to expect over the next ridge or pass. I am with a mountain guide and another trekker, a person who has walked extensively and is as hardened to trekking as I am new.

My day dreaming over it is time to resume our trek – onwards and upwards towards our next overnight camp. We don’t know exactly where this will be yet, we have a general area in mind, but once we see the right spot we will instinctively know and will pitch our tents and setup our little creature comforts that mean so much when living outdoors. Its one of the joys of wilderness walking, the only rules are the rules of nature, but you break them at your peril.

I head back to where a couple of minutes ago I deposited my backpack in the dust at the trail side and prepare to once again shoulder my 60lb burden. It doesn't sound a lot but it’s a dead weight, always there, hanging like a lead weight around my hips, compressing my shoulders. I live in hope that as my body adapts (bodies do adapt don’t they?) it will somehow become less of a burden.

Over the preceding days I have tried all sorts of tricks to mitigate the effects of the load. Leaning into it to relieve the dull ache of my shoulders, tightening my hip strap to take yet more load onto my legs. But all I seem to achieve is to relocate the discomfort to another part of my body, which endures fresh discomfort until it becomes unbearable and I tire once again and repeat the process tweaking the various straps. There will be no solution until we eat the food that I am carrying and then, just when the weight is becoming bearable, it will suddenly increase again as we re-supply and take on more for the coming days.

It’s easy to overbalance when shouldering the pack so I carefully check my footing then, with an explosive heave; I lift my pack and rest its base on my bent knee before hooking my right shoulder into the shoulder strap. Then bending at the waist I roll it onto my back. The remaining shoulder strap secured I ensure that the waist belt is comfortably located around my hips before standing upright and going through the strap tweaking process in an attempt to comfortably re-balance the load.

I retrieve my trekking poles carefully propped against a convenient rock so as to avoid the need to bend and retrieve them from the ground. Then with a final check to ensure we have forgotten nothing we are back walking on the trail.

My trekking poles, a recent purchase for this holiday, have been an unqualified success. In fact I have no idea as to how I might have coped without them. Whilst carrying my backpack I weigh over 17 stone and frequently take this entire weight through one leg as I climb and descend the mountainous and uneven terrain

I have always considered myself a strong and fit walker. But my body, no longer in the first flush of youth, has over the last few days started to protest and I seem to have acquired a number of niggles, aches and pains especially my right knee. The poles provide stability and reduce the risk of a sudden stumble or fall. They also allow me to use my arms to assist me in climbing. Their only apparent negative aspect is walking through thick vegetation which seems to reach out and snare them, hindering my progress.

We are to cross the thundering stream that we have been following uphill through the canyon for the last six miles. Whilst it is July this is high country and there is still some residual winter snow clinging to the higher peaks around us glinting somewhat perversely in the hot 80f summer afternoon sun. I can’t imagine what the river must be like in full flow when the early snow melt commences.

Previously we have been lucky – there have been carefully felled logs bridging the rivers or conveniently fallen trees that we have been able to utilise as rough bridges. However today our luck is out as the token bridge is rotten and in a state of disrepair with the water rushing over it, leaving it wet and treacherous. We search around looking for an alternative crossing point but there is none. There is no other option we will need to ford.

I remove my boots taking care to store my socks carefully in a water tight sack and don my open toed sandals. I assume the worst so double check that my camera (so many stored memories already) and down sleeping bag are likewise safe from the menace of water. It can be cold at altitude and a wet sleeping bag would be a disaster. We are at the mercies of the weather.

I release the hip and chest belts on my pack, better to be safe as if I fall and am swept away I can as a last resort ditch my backpack Gingerly with my poles carefully probing the river bottom I place my foot into the raging torrent. There is the immediate shock of the contrast between the hot air and the cold chill of the water which is already up to my knee.

The river bottom is uneven and I scrabble around looking for a firm footing relying heavily on my poles. Satisfied as best I can I introduce my other foot and repeat the process. With water swirling around my knees I advance cautiously across the river, braced against the downward flow. Gradually the depth eases and I reach the other side safely.

Once again I divest myself of my backpack. My chilled legs are warmed by the summer sun and my feet soon dry enabling me to put my boots back on. My wet sandals are strapped to the outside of my backpack to dry over the coming hours.

We are heading away from the river and unsure of future water sources we check that we have sufficient for our anticipated needs. It’s always a conundrum as a litre of water weighs 5lb so there is always balance to be struck between capacity and weight. I frequently carry 4 litres adding 20lb to my load. We are currently at 9,000ft and the combination of heat, exertion and high altitude means that my water consumption is prodigious and I often consume up to a gallon of water a day. Satisfied with our stocks we move on.

We have moved away from the river and are following the trail up a ridge through trees. It has become claustrophobic and my senses heightened in what is a foreign environment listen for any unusual sounds. There are wild moose and an even bear out here and whilst ever careful to pre-warn of our approach, by making noise, there is always the anticipation of an unexpected meeting with a wild animal. Even worse what would happen if I came between a mother and her child?

The ridge path becomes steeper and the trail constricts. Branches and vegetation are clawing at my backpack and as I push through I have to take care that branches do not swing back and strike my following companions. Occasionally the trail is blocked by a dense fallen tree and it is necessary to follow alternative paths bushwhacked through by enterprising souls who have gone before us. It can be difficult as given the height of my backpack overhanging branches are easily snared.

Finally the gradient eases and the trees thin and we emerge out into the bright summer sunshine in a semi flat basin area surrounded by 12,000ft peaks. It is late afternoon but the sun at this altitude is still fierce and I am careful to apply more sunscreen, this time carefully remembering the top of my ears that are already crisp to remind me of my omissions of earlier days when I under-estimated the power of the sun.

(to be continued) 

Today Saturday was the day to head back to the UK and do you know what - I didn't want to return.  Having come so far I would have loved to have  spent more time in the US and explored further south.

Travelling on your own means that you need to be a bit of an individual and comfortable with your own company which I was, but there are also a number of drawbacks. For one I hated eating on my own and it would have been nice to have shared the holiday with a friend if only to have the opportunity to reminisce about the experience. But the thing I really hated was the need to constantly watch my backpack which had to be lugged around everywhere I went. If I went to the rest room it followed me, if I ate in a cafe it sat by me ready to trip the unwary. It will come as no surprise to learn that I checked it in at the first opportunity when flying.

My flight out of Salt Lake City was due to depart  at 09:56 MDT, arriving Newark New Jersey, at 16:35 EST (13:35 MDT) so although it was an internal flight (and thus not subject to the early check in requirements of international flights) I decided to play safe and ensure I was at the airport by 08:30 at the latest.

Breakfasted and checked out I was ready for the courtesy bus to take me back to the airport and by 7.45am we were heading out of the city north towards the airport.

On this occasion, perhaps because I was not distracted by chatting to the driver, I noticed as we headed out of the city that there were less salubrious properties and signs of social poverty. It was something I had first noticed in Jackson when walking the streets away from the main "tourist" areas and also in Driggs. Unlike my experience of the UK where affluent areas are in the main separate from deprived areas, it often seemed to be the case that a semi shanty shack was sited next to an upmarket property.

Arriving at the airport I attempted to check in using the self service check in kiosk but for some reason the computer would only offer me Manchester Airport in New Hampshire  as a destination. Directed to a Delta check in a most helpful lady clerk efficiently checked my luggage through and totally unprompted, in acknowledgement of my height, organised a seat with extra leg room - what a change from the normal fight.

Security was tight but the familiar scanner seemed to incorporate some form of explosive detector sending a sharp blast of air within the enclosure to capture an air sample. It was so strong the ladies were advised to hold their skirts down! 

Taking off on time the flight was uneventful and the five hours passed surprisingly quickly when your head is buried in a decent paperback and your legs remain un-cramped.

Arriving in Newark late afternoon, I transferred terminal and  joined a milling throng waiting to be checked through security. There appeared to be only one line for the entire terminal and it was absolute bedlam - most disagreeable being treated like cattle being herded to market.

Finally through security I headed off in search of food but the best I could find was a fast food outlet. My rumbling stomach appeased I headed off in search of my departure gate. There was however one final hurdle that I had not anticipated - exit clearance.

The old days of handing in the green counterpart to your entry visa waiver application still applied - nothing complicated here. However having settled comfortably down in my chair by the departure gate to await the flight, I then learned that I needed to attend a Homeland Security computer point to book myself out of the USA. Failure to do so would have catastrophic consequences as I would potentially be deemed to have overstayed my 90 day tourist waiver visa and highly unlikely to re-enter the US without a lot of aggravation on a future occasion.

Booking out took the form of scanning my passport, index fingerprints and a picture at which point it issued me with a little chit in confirmation. Who said it was only the UK that did big brother!

The Continental flight was packed - not a spare seat in sight. It was strange but there seemed to be a completely different atmosphere on the trans Atlantic flights, which appeared much more formal in some way, its hard to describe. I guess that on continental US flights the passengers treat them like trains and there seems to be a much higher incidence of families with young children and babies travelling which adds to the informality (and noise!).

We departed on time and I settled down into my "pen" for the seven hour flight. Amazingly I was accosted by a lady travelling back from New York whom I had first met on the outbound flight. She had complained that she hated the long flights from Manchester to New York, but recognised her good fortune when I told her I still had another five hour flight to Salt Lake City. Happily we were able to pass some time discussing our separate holidays although I had to advise her that I had seen no bears!

 We touched down on time at Manchester back in the UK and shortly thereafter I was pushing open my front door and climbing over a mound of mail. As I sat down in my chair it finally hit me that it was Sunday 10am and I was due back in work in less that 22 hours. Unfortunately my body clock still thought the time as 3am. 

I was swiftly to bed and so ended The Great Adventure.

No opportunity for breakfast at such an early hour, so I confined myself to a couple of the motel's complimentary biscuits and was eventually able to coax the temperamental coffee percolator into life, which as if protesting at the early hour produced a tepid cup of indifferent coffee in retaliation.

I had packed my backpack late the previous evening so after the luxury of a hot shower I was soon ready to head out. Whilst settling my motel bill yesterday I had enquired as to the availability of an early taxi, but their uncertain responses to my probing questions as to their reliability had left me unimpressed. Given that I absolutely could not miss the Jackson Hole Express back to Salt Lake City, as this would result in the missing of my flights home on Saturday, I had decided to rely on Shank's Pony and make my way to the meeting place at Car Corner under my own steam.

One final check of my room and at 5.30 am I hoisted my backpack onto my back for its final hike of this holiday and exited my room, carefully ducking so as not to collide with the top of the door frame and awake my sleeping neighbours. Outside is was still dark, mildly muggy, but dry with no movement or noise apart from the steady hum of nearby air conditioning units.

Not for the faint hearted

Having carefully confirmed the route on the Wednesday afternoon I headed off down the sidewalk (pavement - gone native already!) in the direction of Car Corner outside of Jackson.

After many days walking my feet had finally decided to register a protest, but surprisingly it was not the blister on my large toe which although impressive in dimension was painless, but an insignificant mark on the sole of my right foot. It felt as if the soles of my feet had been attacked with sandpaper. That said my jeans with the backpack belt pressing on top of my trouser belt and ordinary shoes with uncushioned socks were not the best way of mitigating the impact of the weight of a large pack.

Even at 6-4 and 13 stone I felt slightly vulnerable walking the streets at this hour, but apart from the passage of the occasional motor I was undisturbed. What I had not anticipated was the necessity to avoid the many water sprinklers that were automatically set to run at this early hour. They were indiscriminate with their aim and frequently soaked the sidewalks. Fortunately I escaped being caught by one commencing just as I passed by, but I had a couple of close shaves.

By now the sky was lightening and dawn was breaking as I arrived at my meeting place Car Corner at 6.10 am, twenty minutes early. Unlike my journey up from Salt Lake City, with the number of individuals slumped around in various states of consciousness, the minibus was obviously going to be full. Still I was hopeful of meeting some engaging personalities to keep me entertained during our 6 hour drive back down into Utah.

At 6.30 am sharp we were off and soon heading over Teton Pass. Unfortunately my travelling companions seemed a lacklustre lot and seemed disinclined to talk despite my best efforts (and English accent). It was going to be a long journey. Apart from the occasional protest from the rear of the bus as to the temperature of the air conditioning, it reminded me of being in a class of naughty children forbidden to talk.

Having left the windy roads of Swan Valley we reached Idaho Falls and joined Interstate 15 (a sort of dual carriageway with a very wide central reservation) which would take us all the way to Salt Lake passing by Pocatello and the wonderfully named Brigham City, which made me think of the old wild west. Readers may have heard of the California Highway Patrol (CHP) well a lot of the individual states have an equivalent and having travelled down the interstate I could appreciate why. To an English eye they are nirvana with very light traffic, but often very remote passing through uninhabited areas. Given the size of the land mass cell phone coverage can be problematical and should a breakdown or worse occur depending on the time of day it could be some time before help can be summoned. It is no surprise that they use medivac helicopters a lot.

A rather upmarket hotelHurtling down the interstate at 90 mph (this may come as a surprise as the imagined speed limit of 55 mph has been increased to 75 mph) we reached the Salt Lake City Airport drop terminus at 11.50am 40 minutes early. I assisted some of the travellers, who were catching onward flights, with their bags and then sat down to await the arrival of my courtesy bus to my hotel for night - The Little America. Fortunately having sat in the very same spot some 13 days before I knew exactly what to expect and the black mini bus soon turned up and by 12.15 pm I was on my way into downtown Salt Lake City approximately 6 miles distant.

In booking my hotel I had deliberately selected a mid price range to allow me a little luxury, but without being to over the top, so on arrival at the hotel I was surprised to find myself exiting the minibus into a covered area with a rather grand marble entrance. Backpack on my back the trekking poles strapped to it's side poking above my head like little markers the revolving doors, unless I was looking to make a statement, were obviously going to be a complete not starter. Fortunately I noticed a side door and swiftly headed through it into the hotel lobby.

Inside there was more marble along with polished wood and staff! To say I felt under dressed would be an understatement - 12 days beard growth, a dirty backpack and jeans were not the dress for this hotel and I practically tip toed across the lobby, discarding my back pack in front of an immaculately turned out receptionist who looked at me with some surprise. However politeness personified and identification confirmed (and credit card swiped) I was provided with a map to locate my room - fortunately for me (and them!) located outside the main hotel in a semi motel complex nearby. However unlike the Antler Motel in Jackson this was real luxury and cheaper at only $100 a night (Antler $125).

Top of my agenda, having not eaten properly since the previous evening, was food but first I sought out my razor and attacked my surplus of facial hair. Presentable once again it was back to the main hotel and I swiftly located the in house coffee shop where I was looked after by a charming old lady who ensured I was well fed and watered - my first steak of my holiday. On hearing that I was from Liverpool she reminisced about seeing the Beatles (makes a change everyone associating the City with a certain football team - or was this just an American thing?).

Lunch over it was time (2.40 pm) to head outside in the direction of Temple Square and see some of the sights.

Looking back towards my hotel from Temple Square

Salt Lake City has an efficient tram system but what I had not anticipated was the complexity of the timetables which to my eyes were incomprehensible. Add in that it was necessary to purchase a ticket at the station from a machine and notices of fierce penalties for underpayments, it will come as no surprise to learn that I decided to forgo the convenience and comfort of an air conditioned tram and head (literally uptown) by foot to Temple Square. My feet were not so keen on the prospect and protested painfully, but decision made I headed off into a boiling sunny afternoon with the temperatures in the nineties.

The Temple seen from just outside Temple Square boundary

I met surprisingly few pedestrians during my walk - I suspect that they were either all taking refuge in their air conditioned offices or staying in the comfort of air conditioned transport. My hotel was only 4 blocks away from Temple Square so it was only a matter of 25 minutes before I arrived at my destination. I saw little if any signs of urban deprivation along the way - no boarded up shops or buildings. A lot of the buildings had signs outside explaining their providence (including mentions of former brothels).

Temple Square home of the Mormon faith occupies approximately one city block. My initial impression was of a small redoubt surrounded by snarling traffic hurtling around its perimeter walls. It was much smaller than I had anticipated. The area was immaculately clean with lush green lawns and bright flower beds. As I arrived a wedding party were leaving the actual Mormon Temple (no tourists allowed in here). I decided against taking a photograph through the railings as being to intrusive.

The "Sisters" at work (behind is the fenced off Tabernacle undergoing renovation)As I wandered around the pedestrianised area of the temple grounds I was
aware of a number of lurking ladies (no not that type!). These I learned were the Mormon "sisters", who I would estimate were in their early twenties from all over the world who as part of their missionary duties were to spend a couple of years in Salt Lake City meeting and explaining their faith to visitors to the Temple area. They all wore discrete badges incorporating the flag of their country of origin indicating the languages they spoke. They were a very diverse group and it was certain that you would be unable to claim that you did not speak their language as I saw just about every world language represented including Mandarin. The "brothers" apparently are not so lucky as they have to undertake missionary work across the world preaching the faith. I also noted discretely in the area men in dark suits who, from their radio ear pieces they wore, I assumed were providing site security.

The Mormons have a very a large database of family genealogy and it is possible to research your family background. Unfortunately I did not have sufficient time to investigate this further. Wherever I went the sisters were always there and whilst not remotely threatening they were keen to steer visitors in the direction of the official guided tour.The one thing that did concern me was the "registering" of tour participants who appeared wearing name badges and were moved around like a shepherd with his flock.

Snapped whilst lazily watching life go by

I think it may have be the effort of my exertions over the preceding 10 days or possibly the heat of a summers afternoon, but I was quite happy to sit in the shade and watch humanity (and guided groups) pass me by.

The Mormon Tabernacle, home to the world famous choir of the same name, was unfortunately closed whilst the building underwent strengthening work to protect the occupants from any earthquakes. On asking when it might be completed I was informed that it was meant to have been completed last month (July) but was now running 12 months behind schedule. Nice to know its not just us British who have these sort of problems.

Having soaked in the atmosphere it was by now 16.30 and my early start was starting to catch up with me so I decided to head back in the direction of my hotel. Even this was not without its distractions as at one point I found myself inside a book store browsing their stock of books. How mad is that - come 5,500 miles and stop off at a bookshop.

Walking back to the hotel I stopped occasionally to admire the diverse architecture - a mixture of late 19 century, mixed with modern (what might be called plate glass). All in all I considered it very successful. The traffic was very busy though!

A leisurely dinner and I found myself gravitating back to my room early to "chill", redress my sore feet and reflect on my holiday, which was all but over. Its amazing how time flies when one is having fun.

All to soon it was time for bed - tomorrow would be another long day crossing multiple time zones and a number of airports to negotiate.

Picture Gallery 

The Grayline coach tour taking me to Yellowstone for the day was due to pick me up from outside the motel at 7.30 am so another early start and I was guiltily lurking outside the Teton Steak House restaurant door at 6.30 am waiting for them to open.

Our coach - not the ideal way to see the country

A pleasant morning and the coach was only a couple of minutes late. Christine was already on the coach and had secured a seat near the front behind the driver. I was feeling like a fish out of water as a coach tour is the last thing I would ever normally undertake, but in the circumstances it was the only way I would be able to see Yellowstone and having travelled over 5,500 miles it was an opportunity I was not going to miss. 

My travelling companions for the day were as you would expect a mainly "mature" bunch - a few family groups but mainly retired and some loud. Our guide and driver Jesse was dressed the part and looked like the proverbial cowboy even down to the Stetson and boots.

Teton's heading north

Before reaching the boundary of Yellowstone we drove along highway 191 just inside the edge of Grand Teton National Park and through the JD Rockefeller Memorial Parkway. The views, even from the coach, of Grand Teton were spectacular, but I must confess to a feeling of frustration that I could only look through the glass and not walk. Fortunately our guide was very knowledgeable and a mine of information. 

Its a long drive to Yellowstone (75 miles) and again I was reminded just how large the US is as for long distances, roads excepted, there were no signs of human habitation. Some of this is undoubtedly due to the protected nature of the wilderness area but the thought of winter here or the passage of some of the early explorers 200 years ago sent a shiver down my spine.

After a short stop at Flagg Ranch (no not the home of the cowboys but a sort of service station with petrol, food etc) we entered Yellowstone proper. All visitors have to pay a fee when entering National Parks - in Yellowstone case $12 per day visit. As an aside if you walk in "wild" (as we had when entering Grand Teton National Park from  the west) there is no charge, you only pay if you enter via what might be termed the tourist route. 

After entering Yellowstone we crossed the Continental Divide which pretty much follows the line of the Rockies Mountains from Canada into Mexico and beyond before entering the Yellowstone Caldera which is a vast crater 34 miles by 44 miles sitting atop an area of volcanic activity. Scary to think we were driving around inside the crater of a huge Supervolcano.

Almost immediately there was evidence of the great Yellowstone Park Fire of 1988 which resulted in approximately 36 % of the land mass of the park being burnt. Amongst the burnt trees there was evidence of nature reasserting itself with new growth of trees and fauna.  

Having passed by Grant Village and West Thumb our first stop was at Old Faithful Village home of well "Old Faithful", one of the more reliable of the many geysers in the park. Apart from the geysers the village is home to the oldest hotel in the park constructed in 1903 entirely of wood - the Old Faithful Inn. It is also unfortunately home to a large area of rather less sympathetic buildings added in more recent years. I guess that I wanted to see the area undisturbed whereas a more pragmatic approach has been taken to coping with the inevitable tide of humanity that passes through the area every year.

Old Faithful erupts (sort of!)The Old Faithful geyser was scheduled to erupt at 11.50 am leaving us 45 minutes to kill, so Christine and I decided to investigate food and disappeared behind the old inn in the direction of a building described as the Yellowstone Grill. Unfortunately this turned out to be nothing more than a disappointing fast food joint with unappetising offerings. However even in here we met a character clearing the tables - a semi toothless elderly man, who claimed to be a nephew of General Chuck Yeager (of 1950's air speed record fame)  as well as a preacher of religion, active in the local prison system. He practiced on us as well, before we made our excuses and escaped back to the geyser area to await the anticipated eruption of Old Faithful.

Already a large crowd had gathered in anticipation and having learnt that it commonly erupted to heights of 120 ft I decided to move back from the main crowd and attempt to capture the glory of a full eruption. At roughly the estimated time there was signs of life from the geyser, but nothing overtly spectacular. Just in case I took some photographs which was just as well as this apparently was it. Again possibly over hyped or perhaps my expectations were just to high and had been spoiled by the man made fountain in Lake Geneve which reaches heights of up to 460 ft.

Grand Prismatic Spring - Midway Geyser Basin

The eruption over we were swiftly herded back onto the coach and it was off to see some of the geothermal activity of the park. First stop was the Midway Geyser Basin which is home to two of the largest hot springs in the world - Grand Prismatic Spring, nearly 370 ft in diameter and Excelsior Geyser which is now classed as a spring.

Next stop was the Fountain Paint Pots which are classified as mud pots and located between Midway Geyser Basin and Lower Geyser Basin.

Back on the coach we headed down to Madison Junction and  the Gibbon River so named after General John Gibbon who commanded the Montana Column that rescued the survivors and buried the dead of Custer's 7th Cavalry after the battle of the Little Little Big Horn in 1876. Time pressing we continued onto Canyon Village home of the famous Yellowstone Falls, which even allowing for the crowds was stunning.

Yellowstone Falls

Back on the bus (hurry, hurry) heading towards Lake Village shortly thereafter we experienced our first traffic jam caused by a herd of wild bison. The average American's reaction to seeing wild life seems to be to abandon all sense (and vehicles) grab the camera and dash off, seemingly oblivious to the fact that these are wild animals. I dread to think what would happen if a Grizzle bear were to show up.  As can be seen from the pictures the herd were very close.

Man meets beast (and traffic jam)

By now it was time (16.20) to head back to Jackson and after stopping at the Yellowstone Lake Hotel, on Yellowstone Lake (7731 ft) the highest lake in the USA, we completed the lower loop of Yellowstone and retraced our route back via West Thumb.

Heading back towards Grand Teton National Park the views, despite the onset of rain were stunning and I was again very frustrated to not be able to stop at Tetons and Snake River overlook and take my own personal photograph of the Tetons from this spot made famous by Ansel Adams .

Near Snake River Overlook - moody Tetons

Arriving back in Jackson at 7 pm, Christine and I had a final meal in an agreeable Italian restaurant before taking our leave of each other. She was flying back to New York on Saturday via Jackson Hole Airport and Denver and had booked a days rafting on the Snake River for tomorrow (Friday). I was due an early start as in the morning I was off back to Salt Lake City to catch my Saturday flight home to the UK via Newark,  New Jersey. 

As I settled down into the comfort of my motel bed I reflected that it had been an interesting day and whilst perhaps not of the type I would have chosen, I had at least had an opportunity of a brief overview of part of Yellowstone  and many memories to take home with me.

Picture Gallery 

Overview Map

Our plans for the day were "flexible" - Dave needed to have the SUV back in Victor by 4 pm so our options were relatively limited. Having spent 10 days wandering about the west side of the Teton range I was anxious to see what they look like from the east and having studied the map we decide to  head off  to Jenny Lake and have a leisurely walk.

We cleared camp, packed our backpacks into the SUV and headed down the dirt road back towards Driggs before heading through Victor and up Teton Pass towards Jackson. The sun was up, the sky was blue and I was hopeful of taking some good photographs of Jackson Valley from my the head of Teton Pass. Unfortunately fate was against me and at the summit I discovered not only was the sun in exactly the wrong position - directly into the camera lens, but there was a temperature inversion and Jackson Valley was covered in cloud. 

Jackson Valley - Temperature inversion

We descended down the pass into the cloud heading towards Wilson the home town of Dick Cheney (Vice President) who apparently is a great fan of the fishing on the Snake River and thence into heavy traffic. Turning off before Jackson we headed up towards the Moose Wilson entrance of Grand Teton National Park past Teton Village.

Arriving at the park entrance pay station we were much surprised to learn that this part of the  park was closed due to road resurfacing work. Apparently it cannot be undertaken out of the tourist season as there is snow on the ground for 8 months of the year. A 7 mile dead end!

Despite the notice the entrance is closed!By now it was 10.45 am so having re-visited our plans we headed back the short distance back to Teton Village with the intention of taking the Aerial Tram to the top of Rendezvous Mountain (10,450 ft) and walking back down to the village. Arrived at Teton Village to find car park packed and big queue for tram. Having been used to the relative peace and tranquility of the western side of the park this was all very frustrating. Dave unaccustomed to the crowds was figuratively tearing his hair out.

Back to the map and we decided to change plan yet again and to head up the valley using the main road and to head to Jenny Lake via the Moose entrance. 

Aerial Tram - Teton VillageHeaded passed Jackson Hole Airport - the only airport based within a National Park and arrived at Jenny Lake 11.40 to find the large car park bursting to capacity with absolutely no a chance of parking. All very frustrated at this stage.  We drove to northern entrance to Jenny Lake and had our lunch in a lay-by with overlook of the Cathedral Group. This was probably the only quiet spot of the entire day. I took some pictures just to prove that we had actually been there before mutually decided (now 13.30) that given time constraints we had "shot our bolt" and it was necessary to head back to Jackson to enable Dave to have the SUV back in Victor by 4 pm.
Grand Teton 13,770 ft from Jackson Valley floor

Arrived back in Jackson at 14.00 and took my leave of Dave -  he had been good company and I was very sorry to see him go. Christine was also staying in Jackson so we arranged to meet up later for dinner.

Although it had only been 10 days it seemed like a lifetime since I was last at the Antler Inn. However the surplus kit was still in the back store room where I had left it and having checked in I headed to my room and the unfamiliar concept of a proper bathroom with hot water. Looking in the mirror there appeared to be a wild man staring back at me!

Checked in with home via my mobile (9pm there) before booking a coach trip with Grayline Tours to Yellowstone National Park for tomorrow.

A quick bath - could not face battling the beard on my face with a razor and I headed out to navigate my way to Car Corner from where the Jackson Hole Express to Salt Lake City would depart on Friday morning at 6.30 am. Discovered the seedier side of Jackson and felt quite exposed walking down the streets carrying my camera.

Typical Jackson Street - taken at 6.15am hence little traffic

Eventually arrived at Car Corner after a 40 minute walk in boiling heat. The main highway is maniacally busy - can't believe I am in semi rural Wyoming as its more like being next to a major motorway. Retraced my steps back to the town centre via a slightly more efficient route stopping off for some food on the way.

Looking around Jackson once again I am unimpressed as it is heaving with "tourists" (well I guess I am one as well!) and the shops inevitably are there to cater for them.

Retreated to the comparative tranquility of my motel room before meeting Christine and heading off down to Bubba's BBQ which despite being very busy, as far as my meal was concerned, unfortunately did not live up to its reputation. 

So ended Wednesday, perhaps not the best of day of my holiday so far ... 

Picture Gallery 

A wet start to the day

I drifted off back to sleep and was awoken at 7.15 by Christine calling me to advise she had left a cup of tea and a strawberry yoghurt bar outside my tent door. I know it was a proper camp site but room service was definitely a step up. I swiftly emerged from my tent and as it was still raining joined the others under the tarp. It seemed that fate had intervened in my favour as not more than two feet in front of my tent a small lake had formed.

Apparently I was in for another treat as Dave had decided to forego our usual simple breakfast and take us both into Driggs for breakfast at his local cafe, before calling in at his home to pick up some more wood for our fire. My mouth salivating at the thought we piled into the SUV and headed off down the dirt track and back into civilisation. 

Arriving in Driggs at 8.30 am we hit rush hour (I use the term lightly) and the first surprise was that there was nowhere to park outside the cafe. It would appear that a lot of the local workman had decided it would be more comfortable to sit in the cafe and wait for the rain to pass than wait outside.

After 9 days, unwashed and unshaven, I feared how I might look and smell but fortunately this was no tourist cafe and the locals seemed disinterested by our arrival. Happily a table became available almost immediately and I settled down to closely study the menu. Ever since the tantalising smell of cooking bacon had wafted down from a campsite in the Alaska Basin, I had been fantasising about a fry up, so the decision did not take long and the waitress was swiftly over.

Now to those of you who have been to the US you will be aware of the American way of life and the endless choices (provided you have the dollars of course) and this choice extends to food and how it is cooked. I was aware from a previous visit that I would be asked "how I wanted my eggs" so I avoided the embarrassment of appearing sarcastic by announcing "cooked" instead of the expected "sunny side up" or "easy over". However I was then asked would I like  "A", "B" or "C" (forgive me as I can't remember the choices) which meant absolutely nothing to me. Playing for time I said "come again" to the waitress and she repeated the mantra. She might as well have been speaking Double Dutch for all the sense it made and I frantically looked to Dave for assistance. He stepped in to rescue me from my embarrassment and announced "he'll have B".

My dignity saved the waitress departed and I asked Dave the burning question, what was that all been about? Apparently I had been asked what type of bread I wanted with my breakfast!

Fed and watered we emerged to the agreeable sight of the cloud breaking and the sun putting in a hesitant appearance.  Back in the SUV we headed out of Driggs to collect fire wood from Dave's home which was situated a couple of miles east of Driggs in a rural location. From an English perspective it was like a country estate having 5 acres of land. Christine and I were introduced to his wife Seana and Dave collected Jester one of his five (?) dogs before we headed back to our camp at South Teton trailhead.

As the weather appeared to be improving we decided to take advantage of the day and walk up from North Teton trailhead (almost adjacent to our campsite) into the meadow area below Table Mountain (11,000 ft) which is reputed to have the closest and best view of the Cathedral Group.

Our arrival at the foot of the trail at 10.30 am coincided with that of a large group of what I took to be American students out for a day trip with their teachers. I presumed that it was to be some form of field study exercise as none seemed equipped for mountain walking, some carrying bottles of pop and others listening to their ipods. We left them organising themselves and headed on up the trail.

Moose!

We initially climbed quite steeply through a wooded area and it was not long before the students caught and passed us. We also met the only other English person (Christine excepted) that I was to encounter on a trail during the course of the holiday a gentleman from Oxford. We heard him a mile off - it would appear that our accents are very distinctive!

Unfortunately after only a short while Dave, who had changed his footwear to a new set of boots, decided that his feet were not up to the challenge and headed back to camp with his dog, although not before I had relieved him of his pepper spray just in case we met a bear. We were thus guideless for the first time in 9 days, but I was by now quite comfortable with my surroundings and unperturbed. Christine and I pressed on and shortly thereafter, just before noon, spotted a male moose.

All part of fun - balancing across the rocks

I secretly had hopes of heading to the top of Table Mountain for another view of the Cathedral Group and  as if she could read my mind, Christine suggested that I go on ahead to see how far I could go. Now hiking on your own is not the most sensible thing to do, but I was mindful that there were a lot of students ahead of us and that Christine was vastly experienced. In fact if anyone needed looking after it was probably me! I needed no second invitation and having split the food and passed her the pepper spray I was away and off up the trail.

Being a day hike I was carrying a much lighter pack and I rapidly caught the tail enders of the student group, who I learned were in fact a scout group on a day hike up to the top of Table Mountain. Whilst the weather was now warm with sunny intervals they did not seem to be carrying any equipment and were wearing denim shorts and T-shirts. I pressed on and as the trail steepened I caught and passed another group of scouts who seemed to be struggling - I suspect they had started off to quickly and were now suffering. 

Another 30 minutes of hard climbing up multiple switch backs and I was finally out of the valley and onto a ridge at about 10,000 ft. I was rewarded by my first sight of the Cathedral Group peeking over the top of the Table Mountain ridge. Unfortunately it was by now 2.15 pm and as is often the case in the Rockies the weather seemed to be taking a turn for the worst with the temperature having significantly dropped and the cloud building. As I put on another thermal top and my fleece I wondered how the scouts further on up the mountain were getting on.

Table Mountain foreground right with Tetons behind

I sat on the ridge admiring the spectacular views - the plains of Idaho to my west, to the north east looking down into the Alaska Basin and of course Table Mountain and pondered my options. From my current position I estimated that the summit of Table Mountain whilst reasonably flat until the last half mile, was a good hours walk so it would be at least two hours to return to my current position and another two hours to the trail head.

I was sorely tempted to go on and for about 15 minutes struggled to decide whether it was worth the risk. But by now there were wisps of cloud blanketing the Tetons peaks and the weather was looking even more threatening, so with the greatest reluctance I decided that it was to late in the day and the weather conditions to carry on. My time out in the back country had taught me to respect the terrain, altitude and weather.
Looking towards Driggs and the plains of Idaho

With a last look at the scenery I retraced my steps and started my decent of the switch backs meeting Christine who had by now caught up. She decided to press on up to the ridge to see the views, so I decided to have my lunch overlooking the valley and await her return. As if to spite me, the sun reappeared and away from the ridge sheltered from the wind I sweltered in the sun. 

Looking down into the Meadow area

After 45 minutes the sun disappeared and the weather became threatening again. There was no sign of Christine  returning and I was becoming cold. With the knowledge that there was still a large group of scouts above her I decided to wait no longer and head back down the trail.

I was a little nervous heading back down alone - I had been passed by three scouts ( they were very fit and had reached the top of Table Mountain) whilst I was having lunch but apart from that I appeared to be on my own with no pepper spray and no company! As I descended my trekking poles were invaluable and relieved of my heavy pack I fairly shot back down the switch backs and into the meadow area. 

By now there was a hint of rain in the air and the wind had increased and become gusty - not good signs. A hint of rain turned into definite rain and I donned my waterproof top. Soon thereafter the rain increased in intensity and I stopped to put on my waterproof trousers.

Looking down into the Alaska BasinMy decision to descend was proving entirely correct and I thought with a shudder of the ill equipped scouts in their T-shirts and denim shorts high above me and wondered what state they might be in. I was jolted from my reflections by a clap of thunder echoing around the mountains around me and the weather deteriorated further into a full blown storm with the rain running down across the trail like a river. It was difficult to believe that only a couple of hours ago I was at 10,000 ft admiring the view and now at 8,000ft it was decidedly murky.

I arrived back at camp at about 5.15 pm to find Dave waiting under the tarp wearing all his clothing. With the advent of the storm the air temperature had dropped significantly and I had already passed some shivering scouts huddled under a tree awaiting the return of their colleagues further up the mountain. 

Finally the storm abated and the rain eased. As if by magic Dave managed to light the fire and we sat around awaiting Christine who arrived safely back much to our relief at 6.30 pm.

Another treat in store - back to the Sports Bar in Driggs (6,200 ft) for our tea! Again this seemed a bit surreal surrounded by the local youth in their fashionable and flesh exposing clothing. To think just 4 hours before I was in the high country. 

A blissful tea (even if the waitress couldn't understand my English accent!) and we returned to Teton Trailhead for a final night under the stars.        

Picture Gallery 

The weather was reasonable so, rather than heading down Fox Creek Pass, we decided to head back up onto Death Canyon Shelf and thence Mount Meek Pass, before heading down Devils Stairs Trail. 

Death Canyon overlook

The views from the Death Canyon Shelf were just a spectacular as yesterday and I could not help feeling a sense of jealously as we passed two lucky hikers who had camped on the shelf overnight. Of course had the feared storm arrived during the night, given  its exposed position, I may have had a different view.

View back to Fox Creek Pass and deteriorating weatherFor the first hour of our walk the weather was quite pleasant and with the sun (and wind) on our backs we made good progress. However there was definitely a change in the air and we were pursued along the shelf by thickening cloud and as we started the climb up to Mount Meek Pass the sun left us and the day turned cold and threatening.

Such was the drop in temperature, that I donned an additional thermal top along with my wind proof fleece.

As we left the Death Canyon Shelf and the National Park  behind we spotted on the skyline what appeared to be a Michelin Man moving very slowly towards us. As we moved closer we realised that it was in fact a lady hiker all on her own. She was fully kitted up in her waterproofs and carrying the largest backpack I had seen in a week of trekking (and I had seen plenty!). She explained that she had a 12 day camping pass for the park and had walked via Paint Brush Divide 10,700ft (C) over Hurricane Pass 10,372ft (E) and through the Alaska Basin (G).

She had completed all of the big climbs and suitably impressed we left her heading slowly onto the shelf in the direction of Fox Creek plodding along like a slow moving tortoise straight into the face of the threatening weather. 

Looking down Devil's Stairs Trail from Mount Meek Pass

Having crossed Mount Meek Pass we turned left and started to down the Devil's Stairs trail. By now there was a hint of rain in the air,  the cloud base having descended and we were relieved to have a rain free lunch perched atop a handy rock part of the way down the Devil's Stairs trail.

Continuing down the trail the path did not seem to be heavily used and occasionally disappeared into heavy vegetation that made navigation difficult. It may have been psychological but the trail seemed to go on for ever (6 miles ?) and it was with some relief that we eventually arrived at the top of the actual "stairs" themselves, efficiently timing our arrival for our descent of the rocky cliff face just as it started to rain. 

Lunch Devil's Trail with Tetons in background

Unfortunately the rain rather put a dampener on my photography but here are some external pictures of the Devil's Stairs on the web. As will be apparent it fully justifies its name and climbs/drops alarmingly in only a short distance, the top being particularly interesting with a heavy pack.

Fortuitously we managed to navigate the steepest top part of the descent before the rain became heavy, necessitating for the first time on my trek the downing of waterproofs and pack covers. However  even on the lower part of the descent the surface was treacherous and Dave slipped on more than one occasion resulting in him sitting unexpectedly on his posterior (there that will keep my mum happy not using the "A" word). Depending on the direction of fall the a backpack can either be an advantage by cushioning the blow (falling backwards) or exacerbate it by altering the centre of gravity (any other direction). I was making full use of my trekking poles and was careful to keep my weight over my legs as far as possible.
Teton Canyon below just prior to descending Devils Stairs

Eventually we reached the main Teton Canyon trail, last seen on the preceding Thursday but under somewhat better weather conditions. Turning left we started to head back towards the trail head where our SUV awaited. Dave went on ahead to organise a camping plot whilst Christine and I had a more leisurely walk.

Further down the trail I suddenly noticed to my left movement in trees - a large dark object. My heart pounding I immediately thought "bear" and that the pepper spray had disappeared down the trail with Dave. Fortunately, much to my relief, it was nothing more threatening than a large male moose wandering around in the trees searching for food. Christine and I watched him for some minutes in the hope he would become visible enough to enable me to take a picture, but he eventually disappeared altogether from sight and we resumed our walk back to the trail head.

We arrived back at the trail head, still raining, to find a father and teenage daughter about to set off on their annual trip over Hurricane Pass. What got our attention was not the family group of well wishers gathered to watch them go but their hour of departure (they were setting off  at 3pm) and that Dad was wearing cotton jeans seemingly oblivious to the fact that once wet they would be an uncomfortable nightmare. He said he wore them every year and it was to be a pattern we saw repeated on countless occasions. They must be mad!

Luxury campingDave had not been idle during our leisurely descent down the trail and while waiting for us to catch up had organised a camping pitch on the South Teton Campground. We had the luxury of being chauffeured in the SUV the 300 yards to our pitch and what a site. Whilst it had no showers, there was a picnic table, BBQ pit, nearby tap water and a short walk away an enclosed earth pit toilet. It certainly made a change from digging holes, although I have to say that the view was not as spectacular as that of previous days.

Dinner "A la carte"

Dave left Christine and I to pitch our tents whilst he disappeared off to Driggs to source some luxury food - steaks, corn on the cob, fresh salad and goodies for tea.  As will be seen from the picture we had quite a sophisticated set up. I must confess to a slight feeling of guilt that this was no longer "proper" camping and hoped that because of the deteriorating weather we had made the right decision to descend. Still this feeling was soon banished from my mind once I started to consume the food.

Another long day - having walked an estimated 14 miles and descended 3,500 ft.  The evening ended with the sound of the occasional vehicle moving around the site and whilst not remotely noisy it did remind me that we were once again approaching civilisation.

Picture Gallery 

Packed and laden we were on the trail by 7.50 am, heading across the basin towards the climb of the  Sheep Steps leading to Mount Meek Pass (9830 ft). As we crossed the basin we came across a couple of campers and conscious of Angela and Steve's search of yesterday we checked that they were not the missing main group. Having determined not, we informed the occupants of their search. It was not quite the jungle telegraph, but I had already discovered that the sharing of information amongst hikers (especially sources of water) was most helpful and provided re-assurance on our travels.

Packed and laden once again

The weather was a disappointment and after the five days of mainly blue skies it seemed to have taken a definite turn for the worse with cloud and unseasonably cooler temperatures. For the first time whilst walking I felt the need for an additional thermal top.

I was hoping that the Death Canyon Shelf was as spectacular as anticipated and that we would find a suitable campsite on Fox Creek Pass (9610 ft). Some how I doubted that it would match the 4 star luxury of our Alaska Basin site, but in the absence of a camping permit, Death Canyon Shelf being within the Grand Teton National Park, we were committed to a minimum mileage/route and this was our only option.

First view down into Death Canyon

As we started the climb up the Sheep Steps it was overcast and gloomy which to an extent matched my mood. The climb was unmemorable being a series of rocky switch backs, multiple false summits and an increasingly chilling breeze. There was the occasional distraction of marmots and other small rodents, but no opportunity to photograph them as by the time I had unpacked my camera they had long gone.

Eventually the path opened out, the vista widened and we emerged onto Mount Meek Pass itself. The pass is more akin to a plateau and as the gradient lessened we made good progress, passing to our right the junction to the Devil's Stairs trail before entering Grand Teton National Park itself and the start of the Death Canyon Shelf.

After two hours of walking we met our first hikers of the day - a group of five "mature" American gents who were heading for Hurricane Pass. Ominously they reported that the most recent weather forecast they had heard reported a 60% chance of rain for the next two days.

We descended down onto the start of the shelf (which was not a flat as I had anticipated) and had our first view of Death Canyon 1,000 ft below to our left. As will be apparent from the photographs the shelf is a semi flat plateau running parallel to Death Canyon and adjoining range of peaks (including Mount Jedediah Smith at 11.600 ft) to the right.

Death Canyon Shelf with Death Canyon and background Teton's

As the views became more spectacular, as if taking a cue from my lightening mood, the cloud started to break and the sun put in its first appearance of the day. The temperature rose accordingly, however all was not sweetness and light as it was becoming increasingly windy.

Whilst not as heavily trafficked as the Hurricane Pass trail, moving along the shelf, we encountered a steady number of predominantly young hikers. It was interesting to observe their differing stamina, some moving apparently effortlessly whilst others struggled with their loads. I suspect that some had taken the aerial tram to Rendezvous Mountain from Teton Village and on their first day out were still adjusting to the burden of their loads and sudden change of altitude. Of course it may have been the video cameras, aluminium deck chairs and the proverbial kitchen sink that some appeared to be carrying.

We made good progress along the shelf and by 12.15 had reached its end at the junction with Death Canyon  and Fox Creek Pass trails. We enjoyed a leisurely lunch with spectacular views down into Death Canyon and back along the shelf towards the Cathedral Group and many other peaks of "only" 11,000 ft.

Head of Death Canyon, Shelf up to left

Every morsel of lunch consumed (and my pack consequently lightened) Dave disappeared to scout around for a suitable campsite. We could already see Pass Lake below to our left so our water supply was sorted, but the wind had significantly strengthened during the course of our passage along the shelf and was becoming a cause of real concern.

Dave was gone for a long time and eventually reappeared sweating profusely to report that he had found a site, but it was very much a compromise being the only flat area he could locate with reasonable shelter that was not covered in vegetation or rocks. He warned us that it certainly was not up to the standards of our Alaska Basin camp site.

Shouldering our packs we descended steeply down from the shelf, leaving the national park behind and onto the top of Fox Creek Pass. We discovered that selected site was literally at the head of the pass, nestling within the lea of two adjoining ridges, just before the entrance into the Targhee National Forest.

Pass Lake near Fox Creek Pass

Christine spotted another flat area, nearer Pass Lake which seemed more sheltered and promising until Dave pointed out that it was actually a small dry mosquitoes bed and should it rain during the night ... one reason to take a guide with local back country experience.

The head of the pass was acting as a funnel and the wind was now sufficiently strong to make pitching a tent problematical. Having eventually pitched our tents in as sheltered a position we could find (or in Christine's case re-pitched her tent as hers was in danger of being blown away in its original position) we settled down to enjoy a rest and soak up welcome sunlight.

Fox Creek Pass and our camp site

There was discussion as to our route for tomorrow and a suggestion of a morning day hike down to Marion Lake followed by breaking camp and an afternoon trek back along the Death Canyon Shelf. Also talk of a illicit camp within the national park half way back along the shelf.

However despite the sun, Dave was becoming increasingly concerned as to the weather outlook - high winds and more significantly the increasing amount of high altitude cirrus clouds flying past. These are know as  "The sentinels of an approaching storm" and are a sign not to be be ignored lightly. There was he thought a prospect of a stormy night ahead and we were at 9,610 ft.

We discussed our options. Worst case scenario should conditions significantly deteriorate was to head straight down Fox Creek Pass to the trail head (8 miles). If conditions were bearable we could head back along Death Canyon Shelf over Mount Meek Pass before turning left onto the Devil's Stairs trail which lead eventually down into Teton Canyon. 

Unsettled I rechecked the guying on my tent and searched for rocks to provide additional security to the tent pegs. The tent was already being bent by the force of the wind and I was not looking forward to a potentially wet and stormy night. 

Kitchen with shelter

Despite my sense of foreboding, the afternoon remained pleasant and as we sat enjoying the sun, we were interrupted by the occasional trekker both on two and four legs (i.e. horses). One couple who had walked the eight miles up from the Foxes Creek trail head told us that the trail, with the exception of the last mile, was very uninspiring and indeed in places  became difficult to follow requiring an element of bushwhacking. Not a good recommendation. As they were heading back to the trail head they most helpfully offered to take our accumulated bagged rubbish with them to deposit in a convenient bin.

As afternoon merged into early evening it was time for the hi-light of the hiking day - dinner. However the strength of the winds made lighting Dave's stove difficult, until he hit upon the idea of using a convenient sign as a windbreak. Our kitchen relocated an enjoyable dinner for all passed off without further incident.

After dinner, having retrieved our head torches and additional clothing, we headed a short distance back towards the head of  Death Canyon and settled down to watch a most enjoyable sunset, with views along Death Canyon and the Teton peaks.

Lengthening Shadows as sunset approaches

The sun setting and with temperatures rapidly falling we headed back to our camp and settled down to see what the night might bring. The wind continued to blow strongly and Dave very kindly provided me with a set of ear plugs to block the noise of the wind and flapping nylon of my tent.

Despite my concerns, the fresh air worked its usual magic and I soon fell into a deep sleep.  

Picture Gallery 

Playing with fire - Dave's tent without the flyAt 1 am I awoke very hot and clammy  - again it had clouded over and the outside temperature consequently risen. I seemed to be experiencing problems in regulating the temperature within my bag, but later discovered that Dave had since the start of our trek been using his bag merely as a quilt, which suggested that the nights were warmer than expected and I was being over cautious (and overheated). 

It all became interesting at 6 am, when the inevitable happened and I awoke to the sound of rain hitting the outer fly.  Swiftly exiting my sleeping bag I shot out of my tent to peg out and close both outer fly doors to find Dave, even more exposed to the rain, rapidly fitting his outer fly. I'm sure it would have looked comical to an outside observer watching us both running around flapping. Naturally as soon as we were both water tight the rain promptly stopped.

When I finally arose at 7.20 am the sky was still heavily overcast and threatening rain. This was a major concern as today we planned a day hike to the top of one of the "crown jewels" of Grand Teton National Park - Hurricane Pass. By this stage of the trek I had a healthy respect for various place names as I appreciated they were so named for a good reason e.g Dead Horse Pass - very vicious steep climb which was not kind to horses. Consequently I thought Hurricane  Pass would not be a good place to be should the weather turn inclement. On the same premise it did beg the question whether we would make it out of Death Canyon alive later in the trek.

Having "pinched" their regular pitch the previous day our nearby family camping neighbours had their revenge this morning as the breeze brought the smell of cooking bacon wafting down from their camp some 300 yards away. Food was becoming an obsession and this was sheer torture. 

A different type of trekking

With a careful eye to the threatening sky at 9.30 am we left camp heading down the basin to locate the trail leading towards Hurricane Pass. Despite the threatening weather the day was a joy as relieved of my heavy burden my back pack seemed as light as a feather and I floated along the paths.

Just prior to exiting the basin we spotted eight horses (but only seven riders) ahead of us ascending what appeared to be a cliff face which formed the start of the climb out of the basin to Hurricane Pass. Despite our lightened loads the horses ascended much faster than us and were soon lost to sight.

Modernist Art - our sentry guarding the trail

Thankfully the cloud started to break and with the first rays of sunlight the scene was transformed from one of overriding grey to one of colour, the many wild flowers bathed in the sunlight about us. We continued our ascent, the gradient easing and as we unexpectedly came upon Sunset Lake we noticed that a hiker, obviously of artistic bent, had created a modernist type figure of man composed entirely of balanced rocks,  guarding the hill like a sentry. I duly recorded it for posterity as I am sure it will not survive the winter storms.

Onwards and upwards we headed past the lake and as we climbed we had our first glimpse of "The Grand" and associated Cathedral Group of surrounding summits peaking over the top of the ridge. Just when we thought the path to the summit would head via an ominous cliff face we saw off to our left two heavily laden hikers skipping like mountain goats along a previously unnoticed path down a rock face. Oh to be twenty again!

We need not have worried as the higher we climbed the easier the path became. Nearing the summit we climbed onto a wide open path which reminded me more of a walk in the park, than a near 11,000 ft pass.

Our first glimpse of The Grand but where's the path?

We left them to descend and shortly thereafter for the first time crossed the boundary into Grand Teton National Park and reached the summit of Hurricane Pass. Was it worth the effort? Most unequivocally yes. Unfortunately the photographs I have taken do not do justice to the majestic vista that was before me. With the possible exception of Table Mountain off to our left, there is no better place to view the Cathedral Group from the west of the range than here.

The view from the top of Hurricane PassAs we stood admiring the view we were joined by a young lightly attired gent, who we discovered had run all the way from the trail head at South Teton (approximately 11 miles) and was waiting for the rest of his friends to join him before returning back down the trail. Very obligingly he took a picture of the three of us on the summit and it even featured his hat sitting on the sign.

By this time it was late morning and as one of the two premier passes in the park (the other being Paintbrush Divide) the flow of traffic had increased significantly with a constant flow of day hikers passing us in both directions.

Dave had concerns as to the weather and so somewhat reluctantly, with a final view of the vista, we started to retrace our step and head back down towards Sunset Lake and the Alaska Basin. Because of the number of people on the trail, instead of stopping for a chat with each group I met, I reverted to a rather more formal English "good morning" and carried on past. It they were surprised to hear my English accent nobody showed it.

Slightly further down the trail Dave had a surprise of his own as coming up the trail towards us was a group of his old work colleagues from the Targhee Ski Resort out on a day hike. They were delighted to see him and on asking him what he was currently doing were surprised to discover that he was actually working i.e. guiding us!

Friendships renewed we left them to summit and carried on our decent passing our friendly riders and horses from before having their lunch off the trail and headed back to Sunset Lake where we intended to have our lunch.

Sunset Lake

Arriving at the lake we discovered that all the suitable lakeside picnic spots were already occupied, so we retired to the other side of the trail to watch the fun and consume our lunch of cheese, salami with bread and mustard.

It was interesting to watch the body language of the various hikers as they headed past. Some heavily laden seemed lost in their load their eyes only focused on the next ridge. Others oblivious to the scenery deep in conversation. We noticed a youngish couple, heavily laden walking some distance apart. It seemed apparent from their body language that relations were not good. This was confirmed as they stopped for a break by the lake, discarding their loads they sat some distance apart not talking. We were much relieved after some delay to note that negotiations had commenced and a settlement reached. I can't imagine its much fun to be told you are sleeping in the spare room whilst out outdoors. 

Their lunch break finished we waited for our horse trekking friends to pass by before resuming our decent back towards the Alaska Basin. As we re-commenced walking , as if on cue, there was rain in the air, but fortunately as we descended lower it cleared. My thoughts turned to the many heavily laden hikers we had seen heading towards Hurricane Pass and wished them well. It was very wild exposed country to be caught in should a storm develop later.

It had been an enjoyable leisurely walk of about 8 miles and as we  completed our final descent back into the Alaska Basin, with it being a Saturday and the weekend, we debated how many other campers would have arrived in the basin in our absence and whether we might expect to have some new neighbours. Surprisingly all was quiet and we arrived back at our campsite untroubled by other hikers.

Later that evening at about 8.30 pm, having settled down to watch the sun set in a brooding nights sky, we saw a couple of heavily laden hikers who having spotted our tents headed towards us. As they got closer we saw that it was a man with a girl in her teens.

They stopped for a chat and explained that they were part of a large teenaged group and that he Steve, who was one of the instructors in the group, had earlier in the day "hiked" Angela, who had problems with the fit of her boots, down to the trailhead and thence hitched out to source a new set of boots (sound familiar!). Now with her new boots and her feet suitably bandaged they were attempting to locate the group, so far without success. To add to their fun the group had their only stove so they could not boil water - open fires are not permitted in the basin area. We could not help with the location of the group but we could provide the stove, so we settled down to chat as we boiled water for their dinner. 

We learnt that Steve aged 32 was from Chicago and that Angela aged 16 (almost 17 she insisted) from Minnesota. Having previous personal experience of how painful blisters can be both Dave and  I were both very much impressed by her maturity. She seemed very much at home in the environment and we were later to learn was an accomplished player of the viola playing in an orchestra of some repute.

Angela in turn seemed fascinated to see a real English person and having been introduced by Christine as being from Liverpool "the home of the Beatles", wanted to know whether I had seen them play (erh no - I was only aged 6 when they broke up) and did I drink tea? (yes - many cups a day).

Sunset Alaska Basin

We invited them to share our campsite, but their tea eaten, Steve preferred to head back down and camp near the entrance to the basin so he could keep watch in case the missing group arrived early the following morning. We were very sorry to see them go as we had much enjoyed their company. 

Our guests departed, we watched a spectacular sunset before we hit the sack, for tomorrow we had an early start. We were on the move again and were planning to head out of the basin, on the opposite side to Hurricane Pass, up the Sheep Steps and thence over Mount Meek Pass (9830 ft) into the Teton National Park and along Death Canyon Shelf to Fox Creek Pass.

So ended another glorious day out in the back country.     

Picture Gallery 

I awoke to yet another glorious day, the sky already blue, a much deeper blue than we ever seem to have in England. I wonder whether this is connected to the air pollution that is so much the norm in England that we never notice it anymore and now that I was out west in an unpolluted area, this was why it was so much clearer.

As we had only a short day before us we had a leisurely breakfast of toasted bagels and jam - absolutely delicious, before once again loading my back and heading onwards and upwards back onto the trail at 8.40 am.

I was having a love/hate relationship with my back pack - it had been named "The Beast" on my second day out and I was hoping that as the holiday went on my body would become more attuned to its load. I already was a past master at tweaking the various straps to marginally shift the load onto another part of my anatomy, being particularly good at juggling the weight between my hips and shoulders. Unfortunately in an attempt to rest my shoulders my hips were taking a beating and already I had a couple of raw patches from the belt. 

Additionally my Camelbak for reasons unbeknown had suddenly decided to start leaking, so to add to the fun I had the odd sensation of water running out of the bottom of my backpack, "cooling" my shorts (fortunately made of  tough nylon) and then running down the back of my legs. It was to drive me mad for days. The Camelbak with its hydration tube is an absolute godsend, allowing me to remain hydrated by sipping water on the move without the need to remove my pack and I did not want to forgo its use. I eventually discovered the problem was caused by the sealing ring washer on the filling cap becoming displaced whilst screwing it shut and by taking particular care in this regard had no further problems.

Balance and "bottle" is the key to a successful river crossing

Shortly after heading out from camp I experienced another first  - a river crossing. Dave had mentioned that there were a number of rivers to cross (well lets not exaggerate to much - fast flowing streams). All I had experienced so far  were easily crossed balancing on rocks (beware the slimy rock!) or bridged by conveniently fallen/felled trees.

This one over Teton River had a rather posh bridge constructed but unfortunately it was suffering from wear and tear. The picture of Dave crossing the river does not really do justice to the situation as it only shows the second part of the bridge. Additionally the river was relatively deep and fast flowing at this point. Add in that he is five feet above the water and balancing whilst carrying a 60lb pack on his back (remember to release waist belt and chest strap in case you fall in and need to discard pack) and its not as simply as it looks.

Christine meanwhile managed to find another place to cross upstream, but I was not paying attention, being distracted by Dave and my camera, so when my turn came after much "faffing" about trying to locate Christine's route I decided to don my sandals and ford the river. This I successful did with the aid of my trekking poles, the water coming up to my knees. It was the first time my feet had been washed in five days.

"Horse Meadow"

The trail continued upwards and I should point out to the more observant amongst you that although our daily mileage for the last couple of days had significantly reduced the path was unrelentingly upwards.

Whilst not officially within any National Parks the Alaska Basin does have restrictions as to the lighting of fires and the overnight stockading of horses (yes you have to share the sometimes very narrow trails with horses). Just before entering the basin we found a wide meadow area (which I have called "Horse Meadow") with a restricted choke point access where horses resting overnight could be easily contained.

A final push and we entered the Alaska Basin which was a huge area. The trail head mileage signs are deceptive as they only show the distance to the entrance of the basin. We carried on into the basin looking for a suitable place to camp. As we were planning a day hike (lightly loaded) to experience the splender of Hurricane Pass we were staying two days at this site and were therefore on the lookout for a good position.

The onsite shower (cold only)

Discarding our packs Dave disappeared off to hunt for a campsite. He returned some minutes later, his face broken into a broad grin, to say that he had discovered a sheltered spot with great views, a flat grass area to pitch and a shower! A shower had we arrived back in civilisation?  Well not really. It apparently only ran cold and as can be seen from the picture could not be turned off. 

Blissfully happy with our find, we discarded our packs on our proposed campsite and adjoined to the other side of the stream to have an early lunch of  tuna, pita bread and mayonnaise, which was one of my favourites. In case readers may think my comment odd I have two observations about walking at higher altitudes.

First owing to dehydration - as the air is quite dry at these altitudes, the body seems to lose a lot of water and it is necessary to drink large amounts of fluids. Despite drinking continually one is constantly thirsty and I wondered whether this was my bodies way of ensuring that my circulation remained fluid.I believe after approximately a week at altitude the body starts to produce additional red blood cells, to assist with the transport of oxygen thereby "thickening" the blood, so it may be an ongoing reaction to this. Secondly one sense of taste seems to decline so food with a strong flavour is sought after and appreciated. 

Our deluxe camp site

Finishing our lunch Christine noticed a couple of people appear over the ledge in front of our proposed camp site. We hastened over to introduce ourselves and to ensure that they did not have any designs on our site - first come first served being the rule.

It transpired that they were the precursor of a large family group and shortly thereafter a group of eight people (mum, dad, friend, two teenage daughters and three sons) appeared. On their annual trip to the basin they had started early and hiked up from the bottom of the South Teton trailhead in 4.5 hours and we had apparently "pinched" their regular site. I felt quite sorry for them as we had almost cheated by camping half way up the trail. Disappointed, but with good grace, they headed past and camped further up with hill about 300 yards away.

We setup camp and Christine disappeared for a walk around the basin, whilst Dave and I settled down to enjoy the views and the sun.
Ineffective mosquito defence

So had we finally arrived in our camping utopia?  Unfortunately not as there was the small matter (and I mean small) of huge volumes of mosquitoes. With barely a breath of wind there were clouds of the pests all sounding like  dive bombers heading past my ears. But woe betide when all went quiet as that meant they were settling down for a feast. Mosquitoes apparently locate their prey by the carbon dioxide given out and DEET is supposed to block their ability to detect this gas. Well I must have smeared myself in half a bottle but it seemed to have very little impact on the cloud and even adding clothing seemed to have little effect.

The larger flies were almost as bad, but they at least could be readily "swatted". Strangely unlike the flies back at home they seem disinclined to take any form of avoiding action (perhaps they were used to feasting undisturbed on the backs of mammals) and were easily killed. The only distasteful matter being if they had already painlessly feasted, when swatted they left a blood red smear - presumably my blood.

It was not long before my legs and back started looking like I had been peppered with shotgun pellets, with a huge amount of large white welts. I complained to Dave that he seemed to be immune, but he merely observed that he was being bitten, just that his body had ceased to react to the bites.

Moose!

It was a hot afternoon and Dave and I had long discussions, enjoyed the scenery and chatted to the occasional hiker who appeared. By the time Christine reappeared from her walk an hour and half later, there were 4 other groups camping in the general vicinity. 

An agreeable tea, but by 8pm we decided to seek sanctuary from the even heavier clouds of mosquitoes that were becoming downright unpleasant and retreated to our respective tents. No wonder this given the prevalence of mosquitoes in Alaska was this called the Alaska Basin!

Given my failure to capture any night pictures the previous night I contemplated attempting a picture of the sunset and braving the flies headed outside again. Dave and I were discussing the best location to take such a photograph, when around the corner came a horse. Well I thought briefly for a moment it was a horse then we both recognised it as a female moose, who unconcerned strolled past us and into the nearby pond where she proceeded to eat the moss from the bottom.Totally mesmerized I went mad with my camera - more images here . We watched until the light faded and the sun went down before retiring to our tents for the night.

Picture Gallery 

Having not seen a soul since the two intrepid switch back climbers of yesterday afternoon, we were much surprised to see a hiker, who with a quick wave, shot past our camp along the trail at 6.30 am. General consensus was that he must know the area well and wanted to conquer the switch backs prior to the day becoming hot.

Our plan for the day was to break camp and continue to the trailhead which we estimated to be about an hours walk away. Having collected our SUV we would then head into Driggs to source my new boots before leaving the SUV behind at South Teton trail head and heading up the Teton Canyon towards the Alaska Basin.
The infamous boots

Breakfasted and packed we headed off at 8.00 and by 9.15 we were at the South Leigh trail head where our SUV, stocked with additional food for the forthcoming days awaited. Whilst Dave organised the food I had an opportunity to remove the tape on my boots and undertake a closer examination.

As will be seen from the photograph they were in a terminal condition and by common consent my only hope of continuing the trek was if I could obtain new boots. Even this was not without risk as new boots are notorious for requiring "breaking in" and blisters et al would be a distinct possibility.

Back in the SUV after 3 days out in the back country the speed already seemed strange and dizzying. Heading into town Dave seemed quite optimistic that my search for new footwear would be successful suggesting that it would be preferable to purchase some lightweight non leather boots that needed no breaking in. For my part needing an English size 13 I was far from optimistic and would be amazed if they stocked any type of boot in my size.

We arrived in town going passing through Drigg's only traffic light (yes it's that big). Dave dropped Christine and I off outside the local store whilst he took the opportunity of heading off to the local post office.

Entering the store it belatedly occurred to me that I was far from presentable. I had been working hard physically, was wearing the same clothes that I started the week and had not washed or shaved for 3 days. I was not in a position to say if if I was giving off any odours, but it says something for the "sang-froid" of the two young ladies staffing the shop that they did not seem remotely surprised by my entrance or if they were they politely passed no comment. That said I had retrieved a fresh pair of sock from my backpack, so they were at least spared that.

Most surprisingly the choice of footwear on display was huge. Grasping the bull figuratively by the horns my request was simple "what was the largest lightweight boot they stocked"? Disappearing into their stock room they emerged moments later with a Merrell boot in an American size 14. Much to my surprise (and pleasure) it fitted perfectly and even the price was a very agreeable $105 (approx £60). That said, given my current circumstances, I would have paid almost any price. I exited one happy trekker as my holiday was back on track.

South Teton Trailhead

A quick visit to the local supermarket for Dave to pick up a couple of items (again another surreal experience) and we were back in our SUV heading out towards the Targhee Ski resort (nice wide modern road) before turning off onto semi dirt roads to head for South Teton trailhead.

Arriving at the trail head at 10.30 it was busy with a lot of vehicles already parked up their owners having disappeared up the trail. It was also very hot. There was also a novelty - a tap supplying fresh water, which made a change from streams and purification.

Looking at some of the trail names on the trail head board - "Devils Staircase, Hurricane Pass, Mount Meek Pass" it was quite an exciting moment as it brought my map alive and I at last felt we were heading into the Grand Teton Park proper and had left what might be considered its poor cousins behind.

Having restocked up on food our back packs were as heavy as ever. Any way of reducing the weight carried was to be welcomed and we therefore had an early lunch out of the back of the SUV before heading on up the trail.

View down Teton Canyon to trail head

Part of the fun of being on holiday is not just the scenery but also the people you meet whilst out and about. Compared to our experiences of the previous three days when we rarely met other people, this trail was akin to a walk down the high street with people of all ages, races and gender passing by.

Early on in the lower flatter reaches of the trail we met people of a "mature" age admiring the flowers, photographing the scenery and taking shade under the few trees from the fierce midday sun. We also had a procession of youngish children in pairs and carrying backpacks pass by heading down towards the trailhead. Eventually our curiosity got the better of us and we asked some girls whether they were part of a family group?  It turned out that they were, that they had been camping in the Alaska Basin and that there were 28 of them in total! Although we were outside Utah we pondered how many wives this might represent and fascinated counted them past over the subsequent couple of hours.

View up towards Alaska Basin as Teton Canyon climbs and narrows

Whilst resting out of the sun we saw a family group - mum, dad, daughter and son heading like us up the trail. What was fascinating was that dad was not only wearing a backpack but he appeared to be carrying his wife's backpack as well and this quite close to the trail head. Daughter and son were carrying their own. We left them to rest and continued our way up the valley trail.

Some time later, whilst resting again, they caught us up. This time mum carrying her backpack in her arms like a baby, which struck us as more effort than wearing it. We moved on and later met them yet again, this time mum wearing her back pack. We congratulated her on her decision - "did she not find it easier when it was on her back?"  Well yes she did but that was only because it was now empty!

Shortly thereafter the trail gradient increased significantly and much to our disappointment (as it was proving a fascinating diversion) we never saw them again. I can only assume that dad's idea of a family camp had finally been vetoed by mum and they had given up and headed off to the nearest hotel.
Teton River in full flow

Dave had walked this trail before and his plan was to camp alongside the Teton river further up the valley at a hidden site off the trail that he had used before, below the Alaska Basin. I was fascinated, as by this time we had left the valley floor and were climbing steeply through what appeared to be a wooded rocky ravine, occassionally bushwacking around fallen trees blocking the trail, with no locations that appeared to offer an opportunity to camp.

As good as his word after some initial problems locating the exit from the trail (an advantage as others would have the same problem) Dave found the site adjoining the river, this time carefully recording the location via his  Garmin Global Positioning receiver (GPS).

If I had any criticism of the site it was that our view back down the trail was obstructed by the trees - Dave has promised to fell some trees for when we come back! So ended Thursday with the roar of a throaty river. Tomorrow onwards and upwards to the Alaska Basin.

Despite my tent only being constructed of thin nylon it seemed to offer psychological security way in excess of its flimsy structure and initially I had to overcome a marked reluctance to venture outside it at night. It was as if I were a child once again, afraid of the dark and what might be lurking out there in the wall of darkness.

Moving around at night can be difficult. Unless there is a moon it is completely black and this can cause difficulties with balance as there are no points of reference for the eyes to focus upon. Add in uneven ground, guy ropes etc and I'm sure it appears to the uninitiated observer that there was an unstable drunk staggering around. Of course, provided that it could be located within my tent, I did have my Petzl head torch but switching this on totally destroys any night vision and there is still a wall of darkness beyond its range.

The type of sky we like to see at dawnWith the cloud cover still in situ the early part of the night was warm, but towards dawn as the clouds cleared the temperature fell. Two days out and I had already decided that my least favourite time of day was early morning and having to leave the snug comfort of my sleeping bag. Just like home really but without the slippers!

I awoke refreshed to the sound of the dawn chorus and was glad to note that my appetite had returned. I was up for whatever the day had to throw at me, but little did I know that it was to a be a long day.

After breakfast I headed off to replenish my supply of water. Whilst we were camped near to the lake collecting water from it was difficult as the edges were very shallow and the mud easily disturbed resulting at best in cloudy muddy water. It was much better to locate a source of running water. Dave mentioned that he had found a small stream approximately 250 yards away exiting the lake so I headed off in the general direction he had suggested. However I quickly became literally bogged down in an area of marsh so had to switch directions multiple times taking a more circuitous route. Eventually I was able to locate a small stream following its course for some distance to find an adequate flow and depth of water to replenish my bottles.

Mission accomplished I retraced my steps back towards our camp. Unfortunately I had become disorientated and suppressing a rising feeling of unease was trying to locate the site. Did I make a fool of myself by shouting for directions and help ? Searching around I thought I recognised a large tree that had been semi demolished by a woodpecker so headed off in its direction. My gut feeling was confirmed when Christine most helpfully sneezed.

I should at this point make clear that Christine's sneezes are not of average volume (I hope she will forgive me this observation) and can be heard over a considerable distance. In fact if unexpected and nearby they can be very alarming. Relieved I was soon back in camp.

Onwards and upwards

Breaking camp we set off at 8.40 and having briefly retraced our steps from the previous day we then headed off in the direction of Granite Basin. Dave initially seemed to be having some problems with identifying the correct route, frequently disappearing off on reconnaissance's trips down ridges and tracks for minutes at a time whilst we waited, our packs temporarily discarded, admiring the view. We were later to learn that, although vastly experienced, a lot of our Teton Crest route was new to him as well.

We continued to climb and soon had reached 10,000 ft. Moving on we spotted tents pitched away from the trail and suspected that we might have found our teenagers from yesterday, but nobody from a distance appeared to be at home and we presumed they had gone for a day hike.

Moving past the tents we were accosted by two dogs and shortly thereafter met their owners - two not so young day hiking American ladies from Jackson, who Dave later observed seem to have all the right designer fashion gear. We spent an interesting 5 minutes chatting and learned that they had started their walk at 8.30 am that morning from the trail head at South Leigh Creek  and that they frequently completed 25 mile walks.

Our first sight of Fred's Mountain

Dave's intended route for day having reached Granite Basin was to descent the switch backs down to South Leigh Creek, have lunch and then ascend the ridge to the side of Fred's Mountain (part of the Grand Targhee ski resort) and locate a suitable place to camp overnight. We would then descend to the South Teton Canyon trail head the following morning.

We started through trees following a clearly defined path and descended a considerable distance crossing the same stream a number of times. Emerging out of the trees into quite heavy vegetation we were still high above the valley floor when we noticed that the path had started to ascend once again. Worryingly we had seen no trail signs for some time and could only assume that we were off our route. However all was not lost as the view over towards Fred's Mountain and South Leigh Lakes was truly spectacular, so we settled down to lunch, enjoy the view and ponder our maps.
Looking toward South Leigh Lakes and first sight of The Cathedral Group

Lunch finished and his pack discarded Dave headed further up the trail to see whether it was only a temporary rise but returned some 20 minutes later to report that it continued to climb and were obviously off our route. We decided that the only option was to retrace our route to see if we could identify where we had made our error.

Carefully retracing our steps back through the vegetation we eventually discovered that the cause of our error was that the original trail had been bypassed - probably by horse riders taking a short cut across the top of the trail and making a new path bypassing the original path. Unfortunately this bypassed section included the junction with our next trail. Much relived that we had located the correct trail we were then accurately able to identify our position, which was much higher than we had previously suspected. In fact despite much descending over the previous hours we were yet to start our descent down the switchback to South Leigh Creek.

A lower view of Fred's Mountain looking towards South Leigh Creek in the valley below

What followed was a challenging couple of hours as we headed down a steeply sided slope on a frequently poor path heavily covered in vegetation, weeds and brambles. Obviously not a heavily used trail. In places it was very narrow and slippery underfoot. Add in a large backpack, the afternoon heat and it became a very tiring slog. Even my trekking poles became a hindrance as the weeds reached out to catch and obstruct them at every opportunity. My shins were cut and raw from the constant bushwhacking through brambles and nettles and I was worried  whilst splashing through the many small brooks draining off the hill across the path that my taped boots might leak causing my socks to become wet.

During our decent of the switch backs we met two people - one we assumed was a homeless gent who presumably having cashed his benefits cheque and obtained some provisions was heading back up (he told us he had been sleeping on one of the mountain tops nearby for five days) and the other hiker who desperately wanted to know if he was anywhere near the top. Unfortunately for him he wasn't and I was very relieved that we were heading down rather than up. Both seemed to have underestimated the severity of the climb and it was late in the day to be so far from any reasonable camping location. At this point my mind went back to the two mature American ladies we had met earlier in the day and my respect for their physical abilities increased immeasurably.

Tired feet - finally on the valley floorAfter what seemed an eternity the trail finally levelled out as we arrived on the valley floor. We emerged into the path of an apparently wild herd of cows that took an unhealthy interest in us and pursued us some way down the valley. Christine suggested that perhaps they needed milking but I was not looking for fresh milk from this source. By this time it was 16.30 - so much for descending the switch backs prior to taking our lunch!

We reviewed our options. It was obviously to late to start the ascent over the back of Fred's Mountain and there did not appear to be any promising sites to camp locally, the area being heavily wooded and overgrown with vegetation. Additionally with my boots still giving cause for concern it was agreed it would be sensible to head into the nearest local town of Driggs to see if we could source some replacement boots, before heading up the South Teton Canyon Trailhead.

Essentially we were avoiding a climb out of one valley and regaining a day that we would have lost as the route was proving more challenging than anticipated. It did hi-light that the trek had been planned somewhat on the fly but whilst loath to cheat and return to civilisation however briefly, given the overall circumstances, we all felt there was no other option but to take this route.

This left two issues - in anticipation of our arrival at South Teton the SUV had been moved to that trailhead and the nearest trailhead with vehicular access South Leigh was still 5 miles away along the valley floor. The first issue was easily rectified by a phone call using Dave's satellite phone (another expensive cheat at $4 a minute) which resulted in the SUV being swiftly repositioned. The second would required further physical effort on our part.

We plodded on and now that we were on the valley floor the scenery was uninspiring - wandering along a path through trees screening any meaningful views, with the occasional challenge of a stream to cross. The heat was intense. Christine's feet were showing signs of wear and likewise Dave's feet were protesting to the extent he switched to his sandals. My legs were heavy and whilst I still had reserves to spare I was glad that we were not heading up over the ridge as it would have been a real slog at this late hour.

Our campsite next to the trail

Another hour elapsed and we had managed a further three miles when Christine spotted a potential campsite alongside the trail. Strictly speaking you should camp at least 50 yards away from a trail, but that would have put us in the middle of either a dense forest or in the middle of the river and Christine was past caring.

The decision made, our tents pitched, we settled down to tea and to rest our weary feet. I estimate that we had walked 14 miles and descended 3,000 feet since  Granite Basin. Whilst in day hiking terms that doesn't sound a lot, with 60 lb on your back that's a lot of punishment for the legs.

So ended my longest walking day so far and we retired to our respective tents blooded and worn but not beaten.

As Dave observed "This is not a holiday its an adventure" and he was right ...