Bio: Winter Resident, 1974-75. Descriptor: “The Women at White Grass” surviving winters with one wood stove, frozen pipes, Frank and Nona’s parties and hospitality with caviar and pate, Cookie and Ted Hargrave.
Jayne’s Story: I first came to the White Grass Ranch Sept. 1974. There were four of us to be exact, all women, who had just finished working at Many Glacier Hotel in Glacier National Park that summer. I talked them into coming here as I had worked at St. John’s Hospital the year before having just finished Nursing School. I was hooked on Jackson and no other place on earth would do. That first winter I lived at the Crandall Homestead cabin on Anetlope Flats Rd. and survived temps to minus 56 degrees, wood for heating, an outhourse, no running water (hauled) and a gorgeaou Monarch wood cook stove that I quickly mastered with the help of Mrs. Hildegard Crandall, a sprite 75 year old at the time! The White Grass seemed so civilized with running water and indoor toilets after that! My first job in this valley was ICU night supervisor and with that came as many stories as the ones at the White Grass.
That crisp September day I had driven from Montana to White Grass. Once off the Moose-Wilson road and onto the spur that took me to the ranch, I remember shifting into second gear to take in all the fall colors, smells and sights along that winding narrow road. Spectacular was an understatement. When I reached the electric fence gate which opened onto the big meadow chock full of horses, I thought I was in heaven. The meadow seemed to roll out of the belly of Stewart’s Draw. The evening light was raspberry pink against all those brilliant fall oranges, reds and yellows. The aspens were especially beautiful. Frank and Nona Galey’s yellow labs, including their gorgeous male named Doodie, greeted me warmly as I turned off the engine to my 3-speed on-the-column ‘67 Chevy truck. Sitting in the front beside me and ready for any adventure, was my faithful yellow lab named Buckwheat. I was glued to the seat of my truck watching the evening colors fade from that delicious raspberry to a soft yellow glow through Death Canyon onto those magnificent granite rock walls. Everything about the ranch took my breath away. And still does.
Nona and Frank and the pack of yellow dogs gave me a tour of the ranch, including the homestead cabin where I would live that winter until June when dudes would return once again. This big beautiful loved-hard structure was one of the first cabins built on the ranch and was closest to the swimming pond. Only once did I venture there to swim that fall. The cabin was spacious, sparse and spectacular, and the kitchen (as always) was the gathering place mainly because it had a wood/electric stove complete with an old stump chopping block right there so anyone could chop dry kindling quickly for a fire. That was the warmest place in the entire cabin. There were 4 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms. I chose the bedroom farthest away from the kitchen but with my own entrance…a beautiful Dutch Door. I loved keeping the top half of the door open those fall nights waking up to a horses’ head and big eyes staring at me while munching grass!
Two other women also rented at the ranch that winter. Sherry Guirey (Tingy) who had a custom ski wear clothing design business and her climbing friend, Louise. (can’t remember her last name) Both were amazing athletes, climbers and outdoor experts. They lived in the modern cabin near us and thus began the saga of the “Women at the Whitegrass” that winter. Sherry eventually married Ralph Tingy; at that time he was a local GTNP ranger who quickly climbed the ranks of the NPS.
With winter on the heels of fall, getting wood for heating became the #1 priority. That meant contacting Ted Hartgraves who lived just down the road from the White Grass to deliver wood for heating the cabin. He was patient and wise when it came to this task and gave his time so generously. Knowing we’d ruin a good ax handle quickly with our poor aim, he quickly wrapped the part of the handle near the junction of the metal blade with old elk hide so when we whacked the handle against the wood instead of the ax blade, we could keep the wood shaft intact. And it worked brilliantly. We never fully wrecked our ax. Four cords that winter kept the fires constant and the cabin somewhat warm.
My roommates didn’t arrive for another 2-3 weeks. Lucky me to have this place alone! Days were spent chopping wood, riding horses, hiking all around the ranch area with my dog (certainly can’t do that now) and working at the hospital in ICU 3-11 shift. The late shift gave me ample time to play during the day, dance at the Cowboy Bar after work and sleep in if I wanted to. My cabin mates were the best! Jordan Lawley (Traverse City) who became a substitute teacher and waitress, Karin Abromaitis (Chicago) drove the mail truck over Teton Pass to Tetonia each day and Beth Beckelheimer (San Antonio), waited tables. Three of us married locals several years later. One remains married today.
The Galey’s who normally went to the Bahamas in the winter, decided to remain at the ranch. Frank and Nona were good to us. They kept chickens in their crawlspace under their cabin and frequently provided us eggs. They had pigs that year they were fattening up so later we enjoyed fresh pork. The ranch dogs loved getting into the garbage scraps that were fed to the pigs. So did the bears, lots of them. And then there were the winter parties at Frank and Nona’s cabin! I had never heard of nor eaten caviar or pate` nor had I seen such extravaganza with liquor, particularly champagne and martinis. If Nona and Frank had a party, the “women on the ranch” were always invited. The parties were always held at Frank and Nona’s cabin, which was furnished with the best of the best in those ranch days. Lovely crystal from around the world, hides from other countries, lavish china and fabulous western furniture. If the weather was good in fall or spring it was not unusual to have one of the walls of the cabin’s living room open up (never did figure how they did this) to the meadow which made spacious room to expand the party onto the deck. The views were breathtaking. Frank particularly liked his martini’s and Nona her champagne. It wasn’t unusual for crystal goblets to go flying outside or against the rock fireplace, smashed without any hesitation or remorse.
Our parties were tame in comparison to Frank and Nona’s. For every pate and caviar dish we devoured there, we served up wild game spaghetti, loaves of French bread, salad and oodles of cheap beer at our cabin. It was not unusual to have 30 people over for a simple dinner on the spur of the moment. People often stayed the night and there were plenty of couches and floor space and extra sleeping bags to go around. We never fussed about what we had for breakfast the next day-leftovers and strong coffee worked fine.
Cookie, the wrangler, was there that fall and lived in one of the cabins near the barn. I loved this old guy. Any time we wanted to go riding, Cookie always saddled up the perfect horse and loved seeing “his girls” ride off with pigtails flying and dogs at our sides sniffing and running full tilt. Frank and Nona were generous and offered this experience anytime we wanted. I took advantage of it as much as I could. There were no waivers to sign, no insurance issues, no lawsuits and if you fell off, too bad. One of my favorite rides with my faithful dog Buckwheat was north to an abandoned ranch. Being out with my dog and horse under the Tetons was about as perfect as I could have imagined.
The snow arrived permanently by Halloween. Frank plowed the road from the gate to the ranch but more than not we parked our vehicles at the gate and skied to the cabin. The NPS plowed to the gate but often after getting off my 3-11 shift the road was blown in. I remember on several occasions skiing into the ranch from park headquarters in the dark or crashing on someone’s couch in town. I didn’t have a headlamp back then and holding flashlights in your mouth was out of the question. Park priorities were keeping the main road and the road to Beaver Creek open where employees lived. Getting stuck was part of the deal. Chains were a must. If you couldn’t put them on, you were toast. I can still remember frozen fingers. I usually chained up in Moose and then drove like hell and crossed my fingers I’d get to the ranch gate. My truck was only 2-wheel drive.
By November our water lines were frozen. This meant getting our water from one of the nearby streams that ran and then eventually hauling it from town when the creeks froze. We didn’t know about Giardia then. And for some miraculous reason, we didn’t get sick. Showers were taken at the hospital or at friends’, laundry was done in town, and chamber pots were stashed in our rooms at nights! Frank and Nona compensated with more fresh eggs and more wild parties! We couldn’t have plants in the cabin because they’d freeze.
Everyday we skied to Phelps Lake overlook with our dogs. Rarely did we see anyone else. We all had wooden skis (I still have and use my old Bona’s) and Alpha low top leather boots. We were experts at waxing. The trail up and back became an icy luge run by spring and the speeds we gathered on the return were so damn fast and dangerous that the only way we could stop was to run into a tree with outstretched arms in bear hug fashion. Lots of scraped faces, bruised legs, torn pants, busted ski tips, twisted knees and loads of laughs. We tried our best to learn how to telemark on the face to the north of Phelps Lake but really never mastered this. To do this using our stiff edgeless skis and ankle-high non-supportive boots was impossible. But we had a blast trying.
Christmas was one giant sleepover with friends. Those living on the ranch were also included which also meant at least a dozen dogs! It took 3 days to heat the big living room- using only the fireplace. There was a giant hook for hanging pots inside the fireplace that we used to cook the Christmas chili. I’m sure we chopped a tree for the great room in the park nearby. Oops! The lights came from Orvilles Thrift store in town and the decorations and cranberry/popcorn garlands were homemade by the “cabin girls”. As for alcohol, we had a couple cases of cheap beer like PBR, Hamms and Buckhorn and a few bottles of Catawba, Annie Green Springs or Ripple wine and of course some tequila all chilled or frozen in our outdoor frig-the porch. Homemade pies and cookies and ice cream topped off the dinner. Someone had a stereo so the 33’s played all night.
Winter melted into spring, the ranch thawed and we moved out the end of May. Dudes were arriving. That spring I bought a tipi from Gladys and Reginald Laubin and with permission from the Gayley’s and help from a friend, set it upon the ranch. In exchange I cleaned cabins and helped in the dining room on my days off from the hospital. Guests could use it when I wasn’t there…so it worked for everyone. That summer I rode horses again with Cookie agreeable to saddling the perfect horse.
I’ve meandered around the ranch all these years afterwards and remember so many details of life there. Back then it was raw, wild and lovely all at the same time. It still is. And I’m so grateful for the restoration work that has been going on lately. Loving hands and hearts are restoring this “no-other-place-on-earth” ranch. What a beautiful new beginning.