My father, T. E. Dorpat (Ted to other preachers but pastor to the flock), was sublimely smitten by the Grand Tetons after he first visited it as a young clergyman in Miles City, Montana. He was of the conviction that these were at least the most beautiful mountain range in the county, and perhaps in the world. Jackson Lake and it reflections surely had something to do with his commitment. My dad returned to Jackson Hole in 1948 with the family while on our way from Spokane to Houston for the bi-annual church convention. I can still recall the splendid new car smell of our brand new Studebacker - the one with the pointed nose. Earlier we shared another of Horace Syke's slides of the Tetons as seen from this shore. He took several, but it is this one I now prefer for its screen of nearly leafless trees. (Click to Enlarge)
