The raw Wild West of Jackson Hole, Wyoming

woman standing in front of historic cabin

I live in Kansas, somewhat near Kansas City.  I just got home from driving to Jackson to visit my sister.  I took I-80 through Nebraska.  As a Californian, I am getting the feel for the Wild West, as I have lived back here for a few years now.  The Wild West history is quite fascinating.

woman standing in front of a river
My sister  took me to the Grand Teton National Park, where we encountered the Menor Historic Ferry.  Bill Menor arrived here in 1894 and set up his own tiny town.   He built a ferry across the Snake River.   I assessed the width and rate of rapidity of the river.   I tried imagining climbing on board the wooden raft with other people, mules, carts, supplies….  See the cable behind me?  The ferry raft was attached to that.  That seems seriously unsafe and unstable.
 a historic cabin
In 1916, Maud Noble moved to this tiny town, and lived in this cabin.  She was from a wealthy family in Philadelphia, and yet she choose to live in these wilds as a single woman.  She later bought the ferry from Bill, and took over the running of it.  The dangerous isolation of this region is palpable.  Talk about strength and grit.  This long-deceased woman will never know how greatly she inspired me.
As we walked down the path, we came upon the carriage house, being restored by the National Park Service.
a carriage house
We stopped and chatted with the NPS crew.  They were working diligently with care and thoughtfulness.   I wanted to help.   But, of course, I am not trained in the intricacies of restoring a historic building.  But it was satisfying to watch them.
historic chapel

Inside is pure serenity.  The mountains behind add majesty to the ambiance.

exterior of coffee shop
We left the park to go get lunch.  Thankfully I was with a local, who knows the best-kept secrets in Jackson.  I have never had a better sandwich.  Ever.  I ordered a vegetarian.  It was made with a star ingredient – beet, and a delicious sauce.   With homemade, fresh, thick slices of bread.  I could eat there every day.   I wrote Picnic Coffee and Cafe in my travel journal, so I will never forget to go there whenever I return to Jackson.
Next we went to the Jackson Hole Historical Society & Museum.   They provide a one-hour walking tour, which we took.   The docent made a comment about Jackson evolving from farming to ranching to tourism, but they have always been conscientious to preserve their history.   I, for one, am thankful for that.  I know most people come here to hike and see the natural beauty.   I did that on my last visit.  But the Wild West history is equally as alluring.   The Museum bookstore is enormous.  Jackson Hole history is well documented.   The Historical society also houses genealogical records of the people who once lived here:  letters, photos, documents, and manuscripts.  If you ancestors ever lived in the region, these are the types of places where you could find them.
cabin at Mormon Row

We finished off our exploration with a drive through Mormon Row.  The settlers, sent from Salt Lake City to establish a new community, arrived in the 1890’s.  Can you imagine being a child growing up here – your playground would be the Grand Tetons!  We enjoyed walking around this extinct town.

barn at mormon row
At end of day, my sister graciously accommodated my Fall tradition.   Every day, in the cooler months, I have a hot chocolate.   It makes me sublimely happy.  So, we found Cocolove.
interior of chocolate shop

I knew I was in for a treat when I entered this exotically decorated boutique cafe.   I ordered the Mexican hot cocoa.   They also offer a European one.  And they serve delicately hand-crafted pastries.   They are a  banquet for the eyes as well as the palate.  I wrote Cocolove in my travel journal as well.   I will look forward to returning here.

woman standing next to river
Go and experience the immense history of Jackson Hole yourself.  It will effect you.  How did it effect me?   Standing on this river’s edge visualizing the first people in this region,  I ascribed them with a singular adjective – BRAVE.  I don’t think I have ever experienced that type of courage.

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