What the Tetons Mean to Me

It’s hard to forget the first time I laid eyes on the Tetons. I was 20 years old. I had just finished a six day drive across the country. Everything felt fresh, new, and exciting. The trip started in my hometown of New Smyrna Beach, Florida and ended 2800 miles later in the tiny town of Moose, Wyoming. Moose sat perfectly east of the Tetons on the edge of the national park’s perimeter. It was home to a small population of park employees and others who planned to work at the same family-owned enterprise as me that summer. I had been driving north for almost eight hours from Ft. Collins and noticed a few things as I was nearing my final destination.

First, it was the third week of May and I was getting snowed on. As a Floridian, the idea of snow in May was inconceivable. The sheer amounts of it piled up on the side of the road had me in awe. Where I was from, a cold winter consisted of 2 nights where the temperatures got down to freezing. I was not in Florida anymore. The second thing that stood out to me was how suddenly the landscape changed. After driving north through Medicine Bow Wilderness and passing through Lander, things had seemingly flattened out a bit. Once I got to Moran Junction and turned left on highway 191, the Tetons announced themselves to the world. From relative flatness sprang a sheer and imposing mountain range 5,000 feet above the meadows they sat in. The center piece-the Grand Teton-towered almost 1,000 feet above all the other mountains. It was perched perfectly in the center like an angel atop a Christmas tree. And some angel she was. The first sunset over the Tetons had them radiating light as if to say “look at me!!!!!”, a feeling already elevated by the stark contrast to their surroundings. It felt like the heavens were smiling upon them. The last thing that stood out was just how viscerally it felt that I was in the right place to spend those three months of my life. Many firsts were awaiting me in my new home for the summer.

Prior to moving to the Tetons I had never slept outside, had never been backpacking (or really even hiking for that matter), and had never spent any significant time in the mountains. Moving to the Tetons was a distinct reversal from everything I had known or experienced up until that point in my life. I was a Florida kid who grew up playing baseball and going to the beach. My family didn’t hike or camp or sleep outside. I hadn’t the slightest idea of gear to properly pack for a hike or the difference that elevation change made in the difficulty of a hike (turns out a lot). Everything was new, foreign, and experienced for the first time. That made everything exciting as hell. I was seeing things with childlike wonder and curiosity. From flowers, to moose, to the particles that made the sunset over the Tetons glow, every scene was felt vibrant. There was a lot to be stoked about.

Another advantage I had going for me was that I knew absolutely nobody. I tried to recruit friends to come out and join me for the summer. I pitched it as an adventure and a cool way to experience something new. Everybody had different excuses and justifications for staying in our hometown or taking summer classes in person at college. I had to take a course that summer too, just make it online I argued. Nobody pursued it. Although disappointed, having to move out there alone wasn’t going to stop me. It actually ended up being quite liberating. No one knew anything about me in the entire state. Hell, no one knew anything about me on that entire side of the country! I could be whoever I wanted to be. I was free from the expectations and roles that I had been unconsciously placed into by my friends back home. I felt unburdened. Once again exciting, yet scary. Thrilling. The type of uncertainty that makes me feel the most alive. A suspicion that I don’t know what’s going to happen other than knowing it will imprint on me and shift how I think about life.

And change me it did. To this day I’m still trying to make sense of what it was about that summer that left such an imprint on me. Perhaps it was the feeling of internal freedom combined with the external freedom of the beauty surrounding me. The Tetons were stark, jagged, and unabashedly steadfast. I admired them. Perhaps I was looking for those same traits in myself. The Tetons guided me to realizations about myself. They revealed to me how much I love to be outside. They showed me that I was craving independence. I wanted to shed my adolescent skin and feel like an adult. They proved to me that I could go anywhere and thrive. They also taught me more practical things like how to layer, what sleeping bag ratings really mean (you won’t freeze to death but it doesn’t mean you’ll be warm), and how carve steps into snowfields. They planted a seed in my mind that I had to move out west and that if I didn’t I would regret it for the rest of my life.

Most importantly, they shifted my focus from doing things to impress others to doing things to make myself proud. It was no longer about being the best student or landing the most prestigious job, but rather about living a fulfilling life and one that I wouldn’t look back on with regrets. I slept outside for the first time ever. I summited my first mountain. I drove 13 hours one way to watch the college World Series. I stayed with a stranger who I met in the checkout line that same week. I summited more mountains. I became fond of referring to myself as mountain man bob (unearned but thoroughly enjoyed). Lastly, I dreamed up many possible future adventures from the stories of my coworkers and new friends. I began to wonder what other adventures I could pursue. To this day I’m still wondering what else is out there. I think what I’m trying to say is that the Tetons gave me an excitement that I’d never felt before and am still chasing to this day.