We walked right along the lake for about 4 miles, then sat down for lunch just before climbing into the canyon between two high risers. After 2 or 3 miles of that, we emerged out from a roof of pines and looked back over the land we'd just conquered. And the magnitude of the sight was like a slap in the face that seemed to remind me that the world is a beautiful place, despite all its depravity, and that I have so much more left to see and do in it. I'm always amazed at the thoughts and feelings that a simple overlook can inspire. What is it about this mixture of rock, snow, and water that is so appealing to us? Why are we attracted to it? I may never know. And as tired as I was after the climb, I wanted to keep going up. But we hit a wall of snow and couldn't safely cross it. So we took the break to have a nice snowball fight, then we sat again and marveled at the overlook. The two mountains that had been intimidating just 2 hours or so before were now beneath our feet, and it was like we could see the entire world. The lake was like a puddle, and its surrounding snow-capped mountains looked as far away and unreachable as a painting.
I've been trying to decide during this trip if I prefer the view on top of the mountain looking down or the view from the bottom looking up... but it's impossible. The egotist in me wants to say the top is best because it's an empowering experience to look down on what feels like an entire new world. But looking up at the mountains from a canyon is a reminder of how small I am and how much potential the earth carries for discovery. It's like deciding if I prefer chocolate or peanut butter... They're both just too good to decide. And one without the other is useless.
Sadly, we had to make our way back down and onto the other side of the lake. By the time we could see the lake, everyone was already exhausted. It was probably about 3:30, and we still had 3.7 miles to go. But the trail beside the lake was obstructed by various debris slides, and it took us an hour of wandering and walking in circles around the marsh before we found the trail we were looking for. As we came upon the visitors center at which we began, I was tempted to fall to my knees and kiss the ground. But instead, I just collapsed on a bench beside the bathroom that was closed until May 31 and I waited with my fellow aching friends for the rest of the group. Finally, the day ended with an incredible stir fry. Compliments to chef Tyler and Kelly.
The following day, we had a 10:00 date at another visitor center with Ann Matson, the Jenny Lake geologist. I walked into the log cabin at 9:45, expecting to see come across Mrs. Matson, but instead, the girls of our group got a nice little surprise while we waited. There was a ranger behind the desk who, let me tell you, might have been an angel sent from above. We oohed and we ahhed. But, alas, the fifteen minutes and bliss was short lived and harshly interrupted when Ann came out of her office and began teaching us about plate tectonics. But-- I'll give her this-- she had more energy than our whole group combined. And she was so excited about her job and had so much to teach us.
She even had visual aids, thank The Lord. (As if all the surrounding mountains weren't enough aid for understanding how the earth works.) Before we left for our short hike with her, I found an incredibly nifty bandana at the gift shop. See, I had to at least pretend to shop in the store while I stared at the ranger. So I saw this map-turned-bandana and thought to myself, "maybe one day when I get lost in the Grand Tetons, I could pull out this nifty bandana and find someone to help me find my way. Since I can't really read a map. And if I'm lost, I probably won't know where I am on the map anyway. But, you know what, the map is cool. I want to wear it on my neck."
Isn't it nice? That's the derpiest face I could think to make. (Derpy: adj. appearing to have no brain activity or intellect).
The following hike was like a shorter, snowier version of the hike at Phelps lake. Upon its completion, we headed back to our campsite, ate grilled cheese and tomato soup, and started a fire. The professors decided to head back to Jackson around 9:00 to get some needed groceries, and Kathryn, Melissa, and I decided to join them in hopes of finding a coffee shop to read. Little did we know that nothing in Jackson stays open past about 7 unless it's a bar. We tried to find some locals to ask, but they all told us that no coffee-serving venue would be open aside from the Loaf-n-Jog gas station down the road. We walked there, grabbed a very subpar cup of coffee, and sat on a bench near a parking lot to read our books. It was very sketchy. But it was worth it, because I made some great progress in The Master and Margarita by Mikhael Bulgakov, a novel recommended to me by one of my favorite professors. Any day that I have some time alone to read is a good day. Day 12, then, was a success.
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