There’s a wonderful simplicity about the Grand Tetons. Drive into the park and there they are: the meanest-looking monuments to tectonic activity in the West, a jagged, saw-toothed range that rises to snow-capped summits straight out of a child’s drawing. They are the perfect mountains, visual shorthand for the entire Rocky Mountain range.
Wherever you go, they’re there, rising and falling sharply like a line graph charting The Nightmare on Wall Street. The viewpoint may change,
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