On Sunday, as everyone who’d come into town for my brother’s wedding was heading home, Stephanie and I caught a flight to Salt Lake City. Before the plane made its scheduled stop in Denver, we had to circle the airport several times to let a storm pass, and then we had to wait at the gate for similarly afflicted passengers on other flights.

We arrived at SLC about thirty minutes late, got our bags and rental car in record time, and then immediately hit I-15 north. 166 miles later, we were in Pocatello, Idaho, arbitrarily chosen for its Motel 6 and our exhaustion. I’d never been to Idaho before, but since we were only traveling through, I’m not sure that counts.

The next morning we woke up and headed north to Idaho Falls, where we got off the interstate and took US 26 over to Jackson, Wyoming and into Grand Teton National Park. We got our first glimpse of the Tetons, partly obscured by clouds, as we drove into the park.