The Grand Tetons and Backsliding Gators

Leaving Yellowstone you make a turn for Jackson, Wyoming and out the right window of your car looms the Grand Teton Mountain Range. What does Grand Teton mean you ask? Well, think Dolly Parton. Here is a hint, it is not her blond hair. The Tetons are among the newest peaks on the North American Continent. Following a huge volcanic eruption they were formed and located along the edge of a giant crater. The floor of the crater collapsed thus forming Jackson Hole Basin. The town is Jackson, the valley is Jackson Hole. If you forget, don't worry a local resident will correct you every time you mistakenly call the town Jackson Hole. Unlike most mountains the Grand Tetons have no foothills. Instead of a gentle rise in elevation and gradually more rolling terrain, with the Tetons there is none of that. There is flat land, and then suddenly there they are, a range of ten thousand foot mountains. The bases of the mountains are dark, higher up there are large snow field and glaciers lie between the peaks. Because the mountains are relatively young they are jagged and more rugged than other parts of the Rockies. Directly in front of the mountains is a river and large lake. On a calm clear day the mountains are perfectly reflected in the water. You literally cannot tell where the mountains end and the reflection begins. The Grand Tetons have more glaciers than any other location in the contiguous forty eight states including Glacier National Park. As you drive toward Jackson from Yellowstone the mountains are on your right and the National Elk range is off to your left. To say the drive is scenic is an understatement.

The town plaza in Jackson has four entryways. All four are framed by arches constructed entirely of elk antlers. The arches have existed for more than seventy five years and are a hallmark of the community. PETA, one of the more zealous of the animal rights groups, suggested the City remove the arches and replace them with something more fitting. Maybe with Spotted Owl feathers and an aquarium filled with Snail Darters, I don't know. In any event the good City Fathers suggested that PETA get the hell out of Jackson. Negotiations are not ongoing.

There was a lot of road construction in the park. All of the roads freeze during the winter. As a result you have frost heaves and potholes. Along one particular stretch they had completely torn up the pavement for resurfacing. It was one of those deals where North bound traffic is led through by a "follow me" vehicle. Then a like number of South bound cars are led in the opposite direction. It was a slow frustrating process, there was a lot of dust, we were out of range of radio stations so Jeannie and I were left with no option but to talk to each other. That is when fate intervened.

Directly behind us in line was one of those high topped camper vans. Through my side mirror I saw a man exit the van and start walking toward my car. I turned to Jeannie but she had already opened the pocket of the car, unzipped the holster and placed the automatic under a newspaper by my right hand. Some women are just too precious for words, nothing like being prepared. It was all for naught, as soon as I looked at the man, I saw a distressed soul. He said, in the saddest voice anyone has ever heard, "Sir, I saw your University of Florida License plate". he paused and his eyes fell on Jeannie's Gator tee shirt. She was wearing the one proclaiming Florida as the "National Football Champions and King of all College Sports." He turned to the lady in the van and yelled "My God! Esmerelda she is even wearing a Gator shirt." I immediately recognized the situation. I was dealing with a former Gator who was in mortal danger of backsliding. He had been too long away from the warm and welcoming campfires of fellow Gators. Even worse, this poor, lost man was only days away from becoming a possible Bobby Bowden convert. I had to act fast. I immediately exited my vehicle and said "Son, I am a Gator Ranger I have been sent out by the Great White Father in Gainesville to seek poor unfortunates such as yourself and bring you back into the folds of the Gator Nation. The man began to weep, he said "Oh Gator Ranger if only you could". I said, "I can brother, before another minute passes I can have you back among the Orange and Blue faithful singing "We are the Boys From Old Florida". The look of hope that spread over the man's face was indescribable. I explained that Albert, the Great Gator who rules all of college sports, had anointed me to make special dispensation for wayward Gators if they would repent. I'm telling you folks you had to see the joy on the countenance of this prodigal Gator at the thought of coming home to the bosom of his Alma Mater. Why it was inspirational to this old Gator's heart. After asking him to kneel, right there on that dusty highway, I asked him THE QUESTION, you all know "the question". Do you believe in your heart that Albert the Alligator is the greatest force in all of college sports and that Urban Meyer is his prophet? He said, "I do believe". I said, "My son rise up!" He replied "I don't think I can." I of course had forgotten a key part of the rites of the returning Gator Ritual. I asked Jeannie to bring me the jar of Gatorade from our cooler. Upon receiving the Gatorade I laid hands upon him and poured a small amount over his head. Friends, he literally catapulted to his feet and begin to lead the "Two Bits Cheer. " Well, let me tell you there was there was some shouting for joy in the Grand Tetons. Later, the three of us stood together, arms across each other's shoulders and there on that mountain side was some semi-sweet harmony as we sang and swayed to "We are the Boys from Old Florida." As physical evidence of his return to the Gator Nation I gave him my Gator ball cap and instructed him that each night he had to chant "Hail Urban" for at least two minutes and say three "Our Tim Tebows." Folks I left that consecrated site with the knowledge that in the morning when that man cut himself shaving he would not see ugly, red blood coursing down his face. No! he will see new blood in glorious Orange and Blue and he will know that there on that road to Jackson Hole, in a mystical ceremony celebrated by the all knowing, but ever humble Gator Ranger, he had been victorious in casting off the chains of disbelief.

Tomorrow we will be in the Rocky Mountain National Park. It will be another opportunity to reach out to those who have wandered far from the loving arms of Albert the Great Gator.

Until we meet again, this is Jim and Tammy Faye, oops, make that Larry and Jeannie on the road for the Glory of the Gator Nation.