One of the greatest parts of living here is what goes on “after hours.”

Most visitors will see us waiting on their tables, rowing them down the river, or answering questions like “when do the deer turn into elk?” we are envied because we are afforded a lifestyle where we get to be in the mountains everyday and passionately answer questions about our beautiful home, but it gets even better.

It’s the kind of stuff you can’t pay a guide to show you and you won’t get any information from your waiter.

It’s been snowing and raining for three days when the sun finally breaks. The aspens have turned from golden yellow to a crunchy brown and the mountains are coated in clean white snow. The temperature of the Jenny Lake has dropped below 60 degrees.

It’s your last day of work and you know the tradition: it’s time to jump in!

Some coworkers try to avoid an inevitable plunge; for them it’s open season. A core crew of those dedicated to upholding the custom starts launching off the dock aiming for the deepest
spot, now only about four feet deep.

The rookies make the fatal mistake of sprinting down to the end of the dock and jumping as far as they can. That’s great for show, but then they have to swim back, and every second feels like an eternity. For me it’s hop off the end of the dock and right back out to my towel.

When the excitement slows it’s time for a champagne toast. Sitting below Teewinot sipping bubbly we toast to a summer that has past all to quickly and to a great winter to come.

A coworker, called The Doctor, had a great idea, “borrow” the bosses boat since he’s out of town, grab a couple buddies and enough adult beverage to get through a night of sub-30-degree temps and cruise around the biggest lake in the park, pretending to work.

We were like pirates on the high seas. If the weather hadn’t been so iffy, we might have seen some other boats and done some true pirating. I once heard that sailing is for people that like to stand in a freezing cold shower tearing up hundred dollar bills.

Apparently that’s not true because we were there standing in the proverbial shower, and we didn’t see anyone sailing. It could have been because the air temperature was barely 50 degrees with the water about the same. Maybe it was because the skies looked pissed with disturbingly dark clouds playing peek-a-boo with the mountains while a steady cold wind was blowing.

Either way, if you’re dressed for the elements and have enough liquid courage, you can get through most situations. It does get a little scary when the motor runs out of gas in the middle of the lake. But, luckily, we had a spare tank.

Cruising from one campsite to the next, we cleaned out bear boxes while taking in a view of the mountains I had never seen. Anyone who has ever ventured here knows the incredible mystery and beauty of the shifting Teton views.

After finishing our “work,” we headed back to camp to settle in and endure the frigid night that was fast approaching. Once there, we enjoyed a full moon casting soft light, and thanks to a kind donation from many generous geese, our sleeping bags were toasty warm.

Now, we have many moons before we start the engines back up around Labor Day and the incessant questions, repetitive answers and long lines begin again. This will give us enough time to dream up and plan numerous other After Hours excursions so we’re ready to go for next season.