LODGE COZY in WILD WYOMING

The spa at Wyoming Inn Jackson Hole Wyoming

Miles of vast beauty, the kind of people-free bucolic terrain my eyes longed for. Entering the most unpopulated state in the U.S., the powder-white, blistered mountains rose to the heavens, with quaking aspen, ponderosa pine, blue spruce, Douglas fir, Eastern cottonwood, and Engelmann spruce. They sprung through the surface, creating patches of intricate patterns. As I write this, I wonder why some of the tree names deserve the Capitalization and why the others don’t, and why they seemed so small underneath the mountainous landscape. My eyes were used to seeing towering redwoods next to much smaller rock ranges.

Since the inception of social media, I have gazed lovingly at photos of the Grand Tetons, wondering what they were and how I could one day see them for myself, up close and personal. My first impression was like “shit, that sight is stunning!” Yes, I had a list going and the GT’s were on it. They were not on my way from California to North Carolina but I had thirty days to sabbatical it up and I pointed my car in that direction. The temperature was dropping lower than my body had ever been acclimated to, low 30’s. I drove in from Twin Falls Idaho with three layers covering the top of my body, waterproof Sorrell boots, and a beanie cap. I hadn’t been in the snow in about ten years and that was in the mild Spring Lake Tahoe weather.

Visions of a large stone roaring fireplace and a lodge-like sitting area adorned with worn leather chairs filled with bone warming cocktails taunted my thoughts as I drove into the circular drive of the Wyoming Inn. I booked this place due to the online picture of what I just described above. I wanted to sit there and soak in all that was supposed to be lodge cozy. The entrance doors swung open and all I could see was scaffolding and people working all over the lobby right where the fireplace was. What the crap!? Making my way to the front desk my grand notions of the lush lodge life dwindled with disappointment. I was told that the fireplace was out of service, that it had to be re-built and would not be functioning for quite a few months. I almost didn’t check in. I was devastated. I checked in anyway and took the key from the desk person who seemed to be tired of seeing forlorn faces and repeating the same information about the fire place over and over. I slowly unloaded my luggage from my car and took the elevator toward my room.

I opened the door and when the room revealed itself, my spirits lifted. It was nice, more than nice, it was welcoming and just as I imagined, but no fireplace. I inspected all the charm that almost made up for the non-functioning fireplace in the lobby. The room was decorated like an upscale cowboy roadhouse, lush bedding, elegant décor, killer lighting, and fluffy towels. The cleanliness was excellent and provided a reprieve from the melted snow that mingled with the dirt drives and streets. Time was ticking and I only had that night, the next day and night to explore the area and see the Grand Tetons. I had zero solid plans except to eat well, keep my body temperature stable, and gaze upon the pure magnificence of the mountains.

I sorted through some of my provisions and readied myself for the walk downtown. Plugging in the distance it was a thirty-minute walk, so I hopped back into the warming car. I was in the adorable downtown area within minutes. The square was decorated with Elk antlers on each side shaped in an arch and beckoning one to explore. It was simply straight out of a picture book, wood plank floors and sidewalks, worn posts, historical photos, and snow, snow, snow. It was magical. The boutiques were a mix of art galleries, leather shops, specialty goods by local artisans, restaurants, coffee shops, t-shirts, outdoor outfitters, and a trading company.

All the shopping and gazing made me hungry. I flipped through the apps on my phone to my notes section and dug into the recommended restaurant list. My penchant for Italian food made me chose Glorietta’s and oh how happy I was that I made this choice. Luckily I was squeezed in to the overly busy restaurant and seated at a coveted table for two. I was thinking I was acting as a bit of a reprieve for the server who had many larger tables and with kids. My eyes popped at the menu items. I wanted everything but could only fit so much into my stomach. One of my strategic ways when I am somewhere new is to ask the server their opinion on the best dishes in the house. Surely, they have tasted through the menu at some point. I settled on all three of their suggestions, a beautiful, blackberry, slate, and textured Italian red wine, the crostini whipped ricotta, truffle honey, and hazelnuts, and the Rye Cavatelli, Elk Bolognese, with Parmigiano Reggiano. The whipped ricotta came out first and my mouth gobbled it's deliciousness. I sat in comfort knowing I had chosen the right spot and that the experience already exceeded my expectations. Then the main dish slid in front of me, I took a deep breath taking in the wafting savory notes. People at the neighboring tables looked over asking what dish it was. I took pride in saying it's the Elk Bolognese and took my first bite. This is the exact moment in time that I fell madly in love with Elk. The meat was so tender, succulent, and flavorful. Wow, mind blown. Gorging myself with the entire serving, I basked in the knowledge that my taste buds found something new, a palate pleasing game meat that hit on all of my sensory receptors. I would never be the same.

The next day I decided to book a tour of the Grand Tetons to see the wild game; especially the Elk. I jumped in an SUV early in the morning with my guide, headed to pick up another couple from Miami who experienced altitude sickness on their first day. They were excited to be feeling better and explore the area with an expert as was I. The Tetons were socked in with low clouds and snow, disguising the enormity of their size. The guide was an expert who showed us all the cool spots and herds of the animals that occupied the park. We saw Moose, Bison, Elk, and Big Horned Sheep. The only group we could get close enough to was a family of Moose, momma and babies who were as big as the SUV we drove in on. Telescope out, the guide set up a view of them hanging out by the river. I wondered if only large scale animals lived within the walls of the grand mountain park. After several scenic and historical locations it was time to wrap up our tour and head back to the hotels. My bones were like popsicles so I relished the idea of getting back inside the warm lodge. I was told the chef at my hotel was wonderful and specialized in Elk. I was thrilled to stay in for the night, get warm, order room service and savor the taste of Elk once again. I had a gorgeous bottle of Hudson Grenache that popped with earthy cherry skins mingling with fleshy blackberry, five spice, and the softness of a baby’s skin. The meal was excellent. A dip in the hot pools was next on the menu and to my surprise it was decked out with a glowing fireplace. I did get to experience the lodge coziness of the Wyoming Inn after all. The Elk was like a silky buttercream icing on the cake.