Eight city boys and 3.4 million acres of untrammeled wilderness. Well, let's call it 2.4 million after the Administration finishes a bit of trimming, you know, to cut out some weeds and bad hombres and stuff. Still, when the packing list ranks backup cellphone chargers ahead of mere trifles like, say, a water supply, you know things could go downhill fast.
Actually, when you're trying to get to the trailhead on United they go downhill even faster. The longest flight of an entire day spent trying to get to Denver: the three hour Uber between LGA and EWR...
The Call of the Wild. Or rather, the call of nature. Point away from the stream boys, not that any of you could hit it anyway.
You call 11,000 feet and 10 miles a challenge? Let me tell you a yarn so ornery you'd swear it was a tall tale were it not for the fact the wagon train was operated by United. One bridge, two tunnels, three canceled flights and the last middle seat out of Dodge City. Grizzlies, take me now.
Stick close to Jared, he's an expert at finding water even in the most unlikely of places. Like his ceiling for example.
First sighting of the majestic Cirque of Towers, an almost perfect bowl of twisted, primordial peaks. The only way in is to go vertical, through an almost imperceptible cleft in the monolithic granite walls: the fabled Jackass Pass.
In hindsight a premature celebration. Just when you think you've triumphed another glacial valley plunges away at your feet to reveal a trail that climbs even closer to the rapidly dimming sky.
Bro Code 101: No man's portable cellphone charger is left behind. You know, so the survivors can eulogize your demise as they tuck into an extra ration of beef jerky tonight #hewasthebestofallofus #greatbeefjerkybro.
It seems someone replaced Howard Shore's stirring theme with the Brokeback Mountain soundtrack. Its ok though, Samwise Gamgee made that mistake too, could happen to anyone really.
As the sun's dying rays slip beneath the towering ramparts the tents are up with just minutes to spare. Turns out 10 miles in half a day at 11,000 feet was perhaps a tad ambitious.
A fitful night at altitude merges into day as the sun's pallid orb struggles to penetrate the viscous fog that's settled into the glacial bowl overnight.
Let's all stand around and enjoy the majesty while Jared tries to get his hipster hand-ground coffee gizmo going.
Pass me the shovel boys, I'm heading out to build me an outhouse with a view.
Time for a morning expedition around Lonesome Lake. Seems whoever named it didn't find it in mid-summer because it's hard to be lonely when you've got three hundred mosquitoes along for the ride.
Congratulations, your reward for not dying on the way in is to do it all again on the way out.
Someone rig up an antenna on a drone, I need to broadcast my #nofilter prowess to the world. Failing that, anyone know where the closest pony express stop is?
If you fall at least you'll get to be on one of those lame disappearing Instagram stories for 24 hours.
I tell you what boys, those artisanal small-batch locally-roasted coffee beans felt a lot lighter in the Whole Foods bulk good aisle.
Enough to make even the most resolute mountain man turn around and high-tail it back to Jackass Pass.
The camp on day two, on the idyllic shores of Big Sandy Lake, is the antithesis of the windswept, glacial scree of the previous night.
There's even creme brulee, complete with caramelized sugar on top. Survival never tasted so sweet.
Nothing says civilization like Jared's soccer mom SUV. No wonder we didn't see any grizzlies, they figured a bag of pre-washed kale wasn't worth the effort of busting into a bear canister.
The Anvil Hotel, a most suitable hideaway for those who don't wish to be found. And with coffee like this, that includes the whole posse.
Jared's topographical map seems to be limited to the flannel section of the Houston REI.
With the fellowship disbanding for another year the last two men standing head to the saloon for a debrief.
So Big Chief Blockchain, how 'bout we make us a deal here? Two of these shiny ICO tokens for the Wind River range? Whaddya say?
In Jackson Hole it's becoming hard to distinguish the real cowboys from the hipster impostors. They both favor flannel and are usually spotted in hats and rugged boots. Luckily the latter species can often be identified by tracking it to its favorite watering hole.
You'd be better off hitching up the covered wagon.
