The early October skies were leaden and heavily
settled on the mountains to the east as we headed up Highway
26 from Idaho Falls toward Jackson Hole, Wyoming. The rain
had stopped. Cotton-like wisps clung to the mountains in contrast
to the darker skies.
We were hoping to still find fall colors in
the mountains. The storm had blown in from the south on
heavy winds two days ago and we assumed knocked many of the
leaves from the trees. Still, any road trip in the mountains
is a good trip.
The roads in the high country would be muddy,
but Debbie and Ben Frantzen and their little daughter were
in a four-wheel drive truck. Merri Ann Weaver, our daughter
Katie, and I were following in an SUV with good tires. In
dry weather, those high roads would be passable in a passenger
car.
The highway cuts across Antelope Flats,
a high plateau overlooking the Snake River Valley. The grain
on the plateau was harvested and we looked for geese in the
stubble and watched a coyote scurrying for cover. The road
dropped down into lush Conant Valley with its spring creeks
and cattle farms and then crossed the South Fork of the Snake
River into Swan Valley. Now that the harvests were over and
the flows from Jackson Lake and Palisade Reservoir had been
reduced, the river was low enough to expose the gravel banks
and there were a couple of fishermen in the hole above the
bridge. Rainey Creek, wandering across the floor of Swan Valley,
was loaded with mallards and teal. Some tourists had pulled
over to take pictures of a cow and calf moose feeding in the
willows.
Below Palisades Dam, the road angles up the
side of the valley to climb above the dam, on the south
side of the reservoir. At the top, there is a sign: "Calamity
Campground and Boat Ramp." We turned to the right. The
road goes across the top of the massive dam holding back the
waters of Palisades Reservoir. It's impressive to look down
the river valley on one side and across the expanse of the
lake on the other. The narrow road chisels through the cliffs
on the far side. Even though it's paved, traffic creeps around
the hairpin turns.
Calamity Campground was empty; the summer
campers that fill the campground on many weekends were gone.
On those summer weekends, boats line up on the concrete ramp
and skiers and fishermen dot the lake. Since the lake stretches
into Wyoming, it is never crowded, even on the holidays.
Above the campground, the road turns to gravel
with a sign pointing to Bear Creek. We turned up the road,
climbing above the lake. Many of the leaves were gone, but
we were delighted to find enough remaining color to make the
mountains strikingly photogenic. Where the trees thinned to
expose the lake, we pulled over and Debbie took pictures.
The air was crisp -- not cold -- and smelled of wet earth
and pine trees and the pungent odors of fall.
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