So, as we've stated, we were to cross the Static Peak Divide on our way back across to the east side of the mountains, where we would descend 4 thousand feet. Well, the reason they call it Static Peak is because, during the afternoon thunderstorms that frequent the Tetons, Static Peak is hit by lighting constantly. The reason it is hit by lighting so much, as we found out from a park ranger, is because its FULL of iron ore. So basically its a 10,700 ft lighting rod. Its also above the treeline. This makes it extremely dangerous to cross in a storm.
Sometime during the evening it started a slow, steady rain. I(Brett) woke up periodically throughout the night trying not to be concerned.... But, you'll understand why when I woke up at 5am to hard rain and numerous lighting bolts I broke out into a cold sweat and got nauseous. I immediately started looking at the topographic map details to weigh out our options. Climb 1k feet and cross the divide in the rain(IF it stops lightning), this is the shortest route @ around 13 miles. Go back the way we came, which is much less exposed, but MUCH longer at over 20 miles. Or hike off the west side of the mountain, a trail which I knew existed, but was much less familiar with. My one hope was that the sun rising would raise the barometric pressure and clear out the storms. I uneasily got out of the tent to check out the extent of our weather situation.
Definitely not what I wanted to see.
Honestly, Im not positive what we would had done had the weather not cleared, but sure enough the sun started breaking through the clouds and set up what would be easily the most beautiful weather we could have asked for. So, we set off to climb out of the Basin.
As we got out of the basin you climb into a bowl full of worn away rock. Its pretty insane
And then you start what is easily the scariest climb we have ever done. The path at parts was no more than two feet wide and ,more often than not, covered in sketchy gravel and rocks.
At one point Im pretty sure I experienced a bit of vertigo. We were nearing the tippy top when I accidentally looked down under my armpit and found myself staring down a narrow chute at a 2 thousand foot drop. I got a bit dizzy and a good bit nauseous. But, you can't just crumple, you have to just put it out of your mind and keep going. So, we did....and yet again, the rewards were SO worth it.
After the elation of the top, we knew it was time for the long......sooooooooooo long.....descent. All the way down switchback after switchback after switchback. The trip down was probably gorgeous, but by half way down it was only pain.
Eventually we made it to the bottom of mountain, which was also a return to the scene of the bear spotting. Steph was on edge again, but much better. We made it through the bear territory with no events and back up to the Phelps lake overlook. Steph was relieved.
I want to say that I can't really think of a time I've ever been more proud of my wife. She was "no shit" scared when we saw that bear. Literally torn up and frozen. In all honesty I was sure the trip was over when we saw it because I was sure she would want to turn around. I might even have been relieved myself. But, after gathering herself(kinda =) ) she said she wanted to go on. Her spirit would not be broken. Its that red-headed fire that I love so much and that most people who know her love too.
As we made it back to the parking lot, we were pretty much broken. Every step its own small misery. We were stinky, dirty, tired, sore, and just plain done for. We also escaped just as a thunderstorm rolled in and were being rained on. It sounds like a terrible time right? Honestly, I think that's part of the draw to backpacking. When you put yourself in that kind situation, you push yourself so far beyond what you THINK you can do precisely because you have no other choice. It is an amazing experience which cannot really be put into words.
A look at the Tetons post-thunderstorm after hiking up and over them. We entered the canyon on the left, hiked across to the right and then up and over the second highest peak on the right. We'll never forget this one.