In the Hole

"But they'll laugh at you in Jackson, and I'll be dancin' on a Pony Keg.
They'll lead you 'round town like a scolded hound,
With your tail tucked between your legs,
Yeah, go to Jackson, you big-talkin' man.
And I'll be waitin' in Jackson, behind my Japan Fan."---Cash

Apologies to Steinbeck, but whenever I think of a Jackson, be it Mississippi, Michigan or yes, even Wyoming, this Johnny and June song always comes to mind. I think there are people wreckin' their health in this Jackson, either though hard partyin'-hard livin', or through hard playin'-hard livin', like of the x-games variety. People come here to live in the mountains, ski steep slopes, and in the summer, ride bikes on those same slopes.

There seems to be some confusion of this area: Jackson versus Jackson Hole. Here is my understanding; the man providing it was not a geography major, but it is good enough for me: Jackson Hole can mean two different things. It is the name of the high end ski resort up past Wilson. 5-7 miles from town, and I suspect little cross pollination between the two. Although you would need to drive through town to get there from the airport where all the G-5's and Lears are parked. Supposed to be one of the more challenging of the big resorts, but is said to out-Aspen Aspen for furs per square foot. I was told by a bartender in Jackson that when he visited Red Lodge, Montana, the local there said, "All the billionaires moving into Jackson are chasing all the millionaires to Montana." I digress. The other area referenced as Jackson Hole is the valley along the Snake River, with mountains practically surrounding the flat valley floor, hence "the Hole." "Jackson" just refers to the town of that name.

I had read in "Travels" that Charley had a unique reaction to bears encountered in Yellowstone Park. He went from his normally pacifist self to something quite vicious. I of course wondered how Luci would handle such a scene. Alas, our middle of the day trip to Yellowstone conveniently coincided with bear (and elk, and wolf, and buffalo) nap time, so in the park we saw nothing wilder than two unkempt Pomeranians. Luckily, earlier in the day, just as we pulled north from Jackson, not yet to the National Parks, I did spot a group of Buffalo grazing along the road. I pulled over and rolled down my window for the picture of the herd, numbering 20 and as close as 40 feet fto the car. Luci, having just settled into highway-mode as we had pulled out of town, needed to be awakened from her nap on the backseat. She went ape-shit. Like no reaction I had ever seen from her. I worried she was going to dive out the window, or at least get the buffalo angry enough to charge. I yelled for quiet, snapped a couple quick shots, and peeled back onto the road. I had a sense of what Steinbeck and Charley had experienced with the bears.

Driving through the Tetons to Yellowstone is one incredible drive. In fact, after completing that part of the journey, the parts of Yellowstone I was able to visit seemed muted, although a later review of my pictures hinted at some of the real beauty that is the Park. I did get to see Old Faithful blow. I wasn't able to get in the main parking lot, which was very poorly managed, but happened to pull into a gas station almost as close. It was loud, tall and impressive, and I was glad I happened to see it. I did see what looked like a small pumping station nearby, which left me curious as to whether the geyser had been "Disney-fied;" and guaranteed to go off appropriately and at the appropriate times.

Back in Jackson for the evening, I returned to the Snake River Brewery where I had been for a very late dinner the night before. "No Dogs on the Deck" said the sign quoting the city ordinance. Did seem to fit the village or the brewery to me, but I think earlier in the day it must be a real mix of tourists and they are just eliminating one variable. Here the food was excellent. Elk and Buffalo Chili really a good meal, and the on-site produced beers matched up well against it.

It was also where I asked a couple of Regulars about the Mug Club, as the mugs looked just like the ones given to club members at the brew pub where I am a club member in Ann Arbor. Jeremy asked, "Arbor Brewing Company?" I responded, "Grizzly Peak." He was from Brighton and spent years in Ann Arbor schooling and working at some of the same joints did, although a decade later. He now ran a Bistro on the edge of Jackson, and his girlfriend proclaimed itthe best food in town, but I was out of meals to give it a try.

The two male bartenders reminded me rather of Lincoln, where I thought they were on the prowl more than there to serve, but they knew a lot about the beer and the town. I had stopped in a couple other places, but one closed the kitchen early, and the other was teetering on the edge of a bar fight, which was going to replicate a scene from Frankenstein when all the little villagers tried to bring down the one massive monster. And I was conflicted....The monster HAD just bought me a beer for no good reason.

I picked up a caterer hitchhiker on her way home and dropped her at the hotel she lives at. This introduced me to quieter side of Jackson, where a lot of old hippies are finding ways to stay in a beautiful but increasingly expensive place.

The next morning we were on out way out of town and over the 10% grades of the Teton Pass into Idaho. Wow, it was steep. I saw 3 bikes riding up, and the only thing worse that I could imagine was riding down, but I am guessing these were not novices, and they would find a way to enjoy that coast. Onto windy Idaho I go.