Angela’s parents were joining us later in the week, so we choose to invest a little time exploring the park and town of Jackson for possible activities and places to eat. Besides, we’d spent the previous two days origami’d into a truck driving across the entire state of Wyoming, and needed to stretch our legs.

We started our drive in Colter Bay Village, which is as charming and scenic as it is bustling and noisy. The area surrounding the market/gift shop/showers/laundry in particular is a knot of distracted purpose – parents herding children, gray-hairs reading signs, drivers searching for parking spots, horses, runners and hikers trying to navigate through the mess.

One of Ronan’s friends (remember, he’s 12) pointed out to him that Grand Tetons means “big boobs” in French, so of course he had to confirm this with us. I didn’t know for sure, but later looked up the history of the Teton Range and learned that early fur traders referred to the area as  “les Trois Tetons” – the three breasts. Ironically, these mountains look more dangerous than sustaining or nourishing.

We drove down state highway 89 to the Teton Park Road where it splits off to pass through the main areas of the park. As soon as we left the village, the crowds dissipated and trees and wildflowers replaced the throngs of campers and gear.  With the windows down, a kind of nature-induced, gap-mouthed zen settled in. Unlike the typical mountain ranges we’d all encountered, the Tetons rise dramatically five to seven thousand feet from a flat river plain. It is a range so young that it hasn’t had time to “mature” into foothills. Instead, the mountains almost seem to break through the earth’s crust – from totally flat to jagged, sharp, assertive and cocky, making their presence felt.

Near a spur of the road, we found a lonely elk laying in the shade beneath a tree trying to stay cool in the hot sun. Several of the other tourists approached the beast, which may have weighed as much as 600-700 pounds, but we stayed back (and took pics with a zoom lens).

After noting several places to visit with Angela’s parents, we headed into Jackson for lunch. Thai food isn’t what you’d necessarily seek out in a Rocky Mountain ski town, but we hadn’t had anything savory since we left the Bay Area so “Thai Me Up” looked like a good bet. The food was fantastic – flavorful and authentic with Southwestern spice flair.