How to Spend the Perfect Day in Jackson, Wyoming
The yowling call of my cousin’s Bengal cat was enough to stir me from beneath the fuzzy blanket that I cozied up under on her sectional sofa. I blinked my eyes a few times before sitting up to stare out through the windows at the birch trees. Their white skin and eerie black eyes staring back at me. I love birch trees, but the black knots always make me feel like they’re watching me.
Swallows whistled and pockets of deliciously yellow Arrowleaf Balsamroot flowers poked their petals in clusters from the yellow-green grass of the little park neighborhood.
I’m a creature of habit and must start every day with coffee, so I got up and walked to the kitchen to tear open a pouch of Cowboy Coffee instant pour-over. Heating some water in a pot on the coiled metal stove of my cousin’s kitchen, I did a make shift pour-over then waited for everyone else to wake up.
The Craig Thomas Discovery & Visitor Center
My cousin woke up next, and I greeted her from her kitchen table with a nod while I took another sip of my coffee. We figured our other two friends would be sleeping in a bit longer, so decided to do a quick trip to the Craig Thomas Discovery & Visitor Center.
The visitor center is a short walk from her house, so we pulled on our shoes, and took her Alaskan Klee Kai with us. He trotted happily down the pavement, crossing the street where tall grass shaded the sidewalk.
From the earth rose the modernist structure of the Craig Thomas Discovery & Visitor Center. Its glass paned windows, sharp angles, and stone chimney reminded me of the structures I fell in love with in Finland and Iceland. Its silhouette was sleek and elegant, appearing as part of the landscape as opposed to working against it.
Her Klee Kai pup wasn’t allowed inside the building, so my cousin sat on a bench outside while I went inside to check it out. I was pleasantly surprised to find educational signs and a giant moose model in an exhibit-like setting to the left. Panels of information were set up just a few feet from floor-to-ceiling glass panes that looked out into the park. Visitors could come to read, learn, and see.
I headed into the gift shop. 100% of the store’s profits go back into the park, so I felt zero guilt buying a new hat and a pair of Teton socks.
Back outside, I stopped to put on my new hat and watched as no less than four groups of people stopped to gush over the pup, giddy over his husky-like appearance in his miniature fox-like body.
Dornans and a Hike
When we arrived back at my cousin’s house, our two other friends had woken up and were making coffee. We discussed our plan for an easy hike (or an extended hike) followed by a slow picnic by the lake.
When we were all in agreement on how to spend our Sunday, they poured their coffee into their a Fellow to-go mug, and we packed ourselves into my cousin’s truck to head to Dornans to pick-up some picnic supplies.
Dornans is a little town just outside one of the Park’s official entrance. It feels like something you’d read about in a book rather than actually experience. Wooden structures appear aged and filled with stories. You’ll find all the good stuff in the cul-de-sac (food, fishing, and fun).
We grabbed supplies from the small grocery store/sandwich deli before setting out for our chosen hike up to a massive waterfall and a view point that gave a 360-degree view of Jenny Lake.
You can read all about the String Lake Hidden Valley Hike and Inspiration Point Hike here >
Leisurely Drive and Moose Sightings
Happy and tired, we decided to take the long route back to my cousin’s house. We hoped—though we pretended not to (given wildlife seems able to sense desperation)—to see some animals on the drive back.
At first, it was endless rolling fields of sage in front of the warm yellows and browns of hills dotted with pines. We peered out but couldn’t see anything and simply rambled along until finally, a herd of Buffalo stood in the field to our left.
I’d seen them there before, I think, years ago when I’d been there during winter. Now, there were calves, “red dogs” as they’re called for their burnt umber hides, and we pulled over to watch as one ran with its mom across the plain.
“I’m going to take us to one more lookout where I’ve seen moose quite a lot,” my cousin said after we’d had our fill of bison roaming.
We took off, passing more seemingly endless fields of sage before turning off to the right and parking in a curved parking lot. We hopped out of the big truck and walked over to the paved path where we stared out across the trees and down at the small stream below.
My cousin had mentioned that moose tend to like to eat aquatic plants. According to the Society for the Protection of New Hampshire Forests this is likely due to the moose needing the minerals in the highly-digestible aquatic plants found by rivers, streams, and lakes. I remembered that during my last trip to Jackson, we’d finally spotted a moose as it crossed a stream.
An older man next to us lowered a pair of binoculars and mumbled to his wife, “gonna walk to get a closer look at the moose.”
Our ears perked up and I peered across the valley, eyes searching the lush green landscape for the long-legged, belly-hanging, antlered body of the animal. I couldn’t find it.
Grabbing her binoculars, my cousin pointed them in the direction of a black shape beneath the trees. I squinted my eyes and saw that the shadow of the tree was no shadow at all, but a moose lying down. Its curved bulbous nose faced the left while the paddle of its growing antlers could be seen as he turned his head.
We quickly passed the binoculars to my friend who had never seen a moose before.
“Oh, yeah,” she said from behind them, “cool.”
It was immediately clear that she was not seeing the animal clearly; her reaction was far too lackluster for a first-time moose spotting. We took the binoculars, tried to readjust them, and pointed her directly at it.
“OH!” She exclaimed this time, “that’s it’s head! Omg, I see it now. I thought that that was its whole body. It’s huge!”
That was the reaction we’d been waiting for.
We watched as it flip-flopped its ears, likely shooing away flies, and we admired that even from this distance its bulbous face was visible. I tried not to think too hard about what it would be like up-close to one of these beasts. From here, he was cute, but I certainly did not have any desire to be any nearer to him.
Dinner at the Chuckwagon
We ended the evening with dinner at the Chuckwagon. It’s only a mile from my cousin’s house, so we changed our clothes and walked over. The path leads over a bridge that crosses the Snake River where rafting tours slid across small ripples toward the shore.
We were surrounded once again by the sage and the Arrowleaf Balsamroot flowers and watched as the sun settled just above the Tetons that were crisp with the remaining snow of winter.
The walk was pleasant and we talked about shows and books and music. When we arrived at the Chuckwagon, we ordered burgers and beers, then found a picnic table to eat at.
As I mentioned in my Hidden Falls and Inspiration Point hiking post, the Chuckwagon is more about the views than it is the food. My garden burger was what I’d expect from the camp-like setting, but what really sets this spot apart as a place to eat is the fact that you’re dining out in the open with stunning views of the Tetons.
Note: We’d return to the Chuckwagon the following evening after dinner in Jackson Hole (at a fantastic steak house called Local—I got the vegan risotto, but everyone else was very happy with their steaks) for the weekly Monday night “hootenanny,” an open mic night at the Chuckwagon that is littered with young seasonal workers in crocheted tops and low-rise flared jeans with big leather belts. Honestly, we felt like someone’s mom while we were there, but the band with the fiddles, mandolin, and banjo sold me on coming back if I ever visit again.
After our meal, it was time to walk back and we watched as the sky, though still light during these long days of summer, began to give everything that soft dusky glow. We crossed over the river once more just as the last of the river rafting tours was just arriving at the shore.
My cousin told us about a group that got stuck in the river at night, and we shivered thinking about staying stranded in that cold water until morning.
Back at house, it was time to rest.
I brushed my teeth, changed into my makeshift pajamas, and returned to the same stretched out position I’d woken up in that morning. It was the day after National Trails Day, but I felt satisfied that our post-half marathon adventures made up for our day late delinquency.
