Gary and I strapped on life jackets for our Snake River raft ride in the Grand Tetons. Kal, our guide, directed four women who were traveling together to one side of the raft. 

An older gentleman and what looked to be his 50-ish year-old son plopped down on the opposite side, leaving no room for us to climb aboard. 

“Uhh,” said Kal, “could you please move across so this couple can get in?”

The men hesitated but complied.

Once seated, I looked over to the dad and said, “Hi, where are you from?”

Unsmiling, the man said, “I’m from California. He’s from Arizona. Please, don’t talk during the ride. I want to enjoy nature.”

Hmmm. 

We were embarking on a 3.5-hour tour along one of the most beautiful stretches in the United States with a guy who didn’t like people.

For me, the joys of traveling include the people I meet along the way. 

If Gary and I had not engaged in conversation with Alexander, our breakfast server at Ole Faithful Inn in Yellowstone, we would have been lost, literally.

According to the map, Biscuit Basin was the starting point for our hike to Mystic Falls, but Alexander said, “It’s still closed after the hydrothermal explosion last summer.”

He said, “It’s a prettier hike if you go this way,” and gave us directions.

We reciprocated with information about hiking in West Virginia and rafting on the Upper and Lower New River.   

“I’m going to make that trip,” said our breakfast server-turned trail guide.  

At the overlook for the Grand Prismatic hot spring, a young woman used an extendable phone tripod to take pics and snapped one for us as well. 

“She’s a keeper,” I told her boyfriend, “You need to stick with her.”

“Hopefully forever,” he said. 

I paid the favor forward at the Grand Canyon of Yellowstone by taking photos for others. A Chinese family did the same for us.  

We didn’t know it then, but that sealed our friendship. As Gary and I looped our way back up the trail from the Lower Falls, someone said, “Here…here. You sit here.”

From a bench in the corner of a switchback, the Chinese grandfather beckoned us, laughing, “Here…sit here. I am worried about you.”

We sat. 

His English was limited. Our Chinese? Nonexistent. But together we enjoyed the majesty all around us.

Over a fireside chat, a New Jersey couple enlightened us about Wisecars, a company that saved them half on their car rental. They also said, “Eat at the Snow Lodge. It keeps its chef and a full menu while other spots prepare for hibernation.”

A National Park Service employee said she and her husband left upstate New York five years ago to work and live in Yellowstone year-round. In winter, she snowmobiles 33 miles to work and 33 miles back and loves every minute of it. 

Then, we landed on a raft below the Grand Tetons with a grumpy old man. Embarrassed, his son offered to take photos of us whenever I attempted selfies. 

The river ebbed and flowed beneath the towering beauty of the Grand Tetons. The dad said not a word—not even to his son. Gary and I talked with the women on the other side of the boat.

From the raft’s middle, our guide pointed out two bald eagles and shared stories about the interesting wildlife he’s encountered. We asked Kal where he had grown up (Idaho) and if he stays in Wyoming in winter (he does). 

When we docked, Gary and I were the last to climb out. We thanked Kal for a lovely ride.

“Hey, I’m sorry for that awkward start,” he said. “Thanks so much for talking and asking questions. That’s what it’s all about. That guy should have booked a solitary ride.”

“No problem,” we said.

For us, the grumpy old man was just another travel tale.