I Found This Teton Mountains Picture When I Was Looking For The Above Picture
The next morning I awoke to the cry of a blue jay. I wished I had as
much to look forward too as did that screaming jay. My feet were
swollen and sore. John suggested we go talk to the Park Ranger. He
said, “You can look at a map, maybe that will help.” I didn’t think
it was a good idea, but I went anyway. When I pointed out on the map
where I thought I had lost my wallet, the Park Ranger said, “The
park service recommends experienced climbers for that area and
climbing up there alone isn’t allowed. Somebody will have to go with
you.” The ranger understood how important it was for me to find my
wallet, so he told me that he would go if I could wait until
tomorrow. I thanked him, but I told him I needed to climb today.
Tom, seeing my predicament, volunteered to go with me, the ranger
looked relieved. As we were leaving, the ranger said, as he handed
me his climbing boots, “If they fit use them. Just be sure to drop
them off when you’re done.” I thanked him again, and we drove back
to the campsite.
The boots were a perfect fit, they were a half size too big; they
kept the briars from tearing up my ankles, too. Tom got me out of a
jam and I appreciated that. I never did expect him to climb the
mountain, so I wasn’t surprised when he didn’t make it very far.
John took advantage of his time alone to drive up to Yellowstone
Park. He was heading back to Nebraska today, but he didn’t seem
upset that he was going to get a late start. I think he was glad to
be doing some more sightseeing.
It was impossible to trace my steps back up the mountain. My only
hope was that my wallet was on the steep incline that I scooted
down. For sure, that would be the most likely place to lose it.
Knowing exactly where I wanted to go, I made better time than the
first time I climbed the mountain. When I reached the place where I
started climbing on all fours, I got excited; the path was narrow
and if my wallet was there, I thought I would find it. As I climbed
farther up, I was kicking enough dirt down the mountain to bury many
lost wallets. Three-quarters of the way up, I was beginning to get
sick to my stomach again, and then I saw it, half covered in sand,
and stuck behind a loose rock. Elation was too tame a word to
describe my feelings. I stuffed my wallet deep inside my front jean
pocket, and started sliding back down the mountain.
I met Tom playing in a stream a little farther down the mountain
than where I met him yesterday. He was very happy to hear that I
found my wallet. Under a warm sun, the two of us followed a mountain
stream. Our idea, to follow the stream, once again showed naiveté.
The stream cut a crevice in the side of the mountain and eventually
we found ourselves desperately trying to keep above the rushing
waters as we continued down the steep ravine. By the time we
realized we could no longer climb up the ravine’s vegetation
overgrown walls; we were too far down the mountain to consider going
back. At one point, we found ourselves traversing the vertical slope
by hanging on vines and bushes growing out from the walls. To say
that this was dangerous would surely be an understatement. Just
before we reached the bottom of the mountain, we did manage to climb
out of the ravine. Topside, however, our bleeding and bruised bodies
curtailed the excitement of finding my wallet. Using Lake Jenny for
a landmark, we hiked back to camp where we found John patiently
waiting. He was happy that I had found my wallet.
As it turned out John didn’t have to wait very long because he spent
the entire day at the south entrance of Yellowstone and had a
marvelous time. He saw an abundance of wildlife, which was the major
reason he came here in the first place. We stopped at a restaurant
in Jackson’s Hole and ate dinner. After dinner I bought some beers
to celebrate, and we drove into the night drinking beer and
reminiscing about our mountain adventure. When the beer was gone,
John pulled into a Wyoming cow pasture and we climbed into our