Grand Teton Under Ice: A Professional Photographer’s Guide to Winter Travel and Survival
- Susanne Kremer
- Jan 10
- 6 min read
Updated: Jan 11
Flying to Wyoming in January felt like stepping into another world.
I left Miami’s pleasant mid-70s temperatures behind, the golden sun warming my skin, and landed in a frigid, snow-covered Jackson Hole where the mercury had plunged well below zero.
As soon as I stepped out of the airport, the air struck me like a slap—sharp, biting, and relentless.
My nose instantly started to sting, and the damp cold seeped through my layers in mere seconds. This wasn't merely a different place; it was an entirely different reality.Professional Photographers Grand teton Winter Guide:
All Photos: Susanne Kremer
Professional Photographers Grand Teton Winter Guide
Jackson Hole, a charming town with a population of just over 10,000, felt both welcoming and imposing under its heavy winter blanket. Known for its rustic elegance, the town buzzed quietly with winter activity despite the challenges of the season.
Snow piled high along the streets, and even the iconic elk antler arches looked heavy under their icy crowns.
The streets were alive with a subdued hum as locals navigated the snowy roads with practical ease.
Café Genevieve offered us warm breakfasts that made the bitter mornings bearable, while the Million Dollar Cowboy Bar lit up the evenings with its neon glow and rustic charm. Yet, even the cozy interiors couldn’t keep the wild cold at bay, a constant reminder of the harshness outside.
The cold hit us like a wall—an unrelenting force that stole my breath and wrapped icy fingers around my cameras . I could feel it slicing through every layer of clothing, defying even my best winter gear. My nose burned, my fingertips throbbed, and my breath crystallized before my eyes, forming tiny shards that clung to my scarf.
The air smelled sharp, metallic, alive with the forewarning of a snowstorm. The wind howled like a restless ghost, carrying the weight of a wilderness untouched by time.
This was Grand Teton in the heart of winter, a frozen cathedral of jagged peaks and endless snowfields. It was beautiful, yes, but it demanded everything from you.
Each day was an adventure, beginning well before sunrise. One morning, we braved the icy roads to reach the iconic Snake River Overlook, a spot immortalized by Ansel Adams. Fog curled around the river below, and as the sun rose, the snow-covered peaks of the Tetons turned a soft pink, casting a magical glow across the valley. Standing there, my fingers nearly frozen to the camera, I felt both small and infinite. The silence was so profound that even the shutter of my camera seemed to echo across the frozen expanse.
Mormon Row was another test of endurance and determination.
The barns, stoic and timeless, stood as sentinels against the elements. Reaching them required a half-mile trek through sometimes knee-deep snow, each step heavy as the icy wind whipped against my face. My balaclava had frozen stiff, clinging uncomfortably to my cheeks, and my boots felt like blocks of ice. But as the first light of day painted the barns the fog had lifted and the Tetons appeared , the pain melted away. The photograph I captured was more than an image; it was a story of resilience and reverence for the land.
In Jackson Hole, I found moments of reprieve. The town’s charm shone brightest at night, when its streets twinkled with festive lights and the smell of wood smoke filled the air. Walking through its snow-dusted streets, I felt a warmth that came not from the temperature but from the town’s quiet magic.
Even a visit to the Teton Village provided a sense of wonder, as I ascended the cable car to breathtaking views of the surrounding peaks, the horizon stretching endlessly in every direction.
Snowy Evenings and February Anticipation
Every night, there was more snowfall, making the walks to Mormon Row increasingly difficult. I found myself wondering how February would look like. For today the forecast showed -20°F and it was!
Reflections on the Winter
The accumulation of snow transformed the landscape into a winter wonderland, yet it also posed challenges:
Each step felt laborious, as if I were trudging through quicksand.
The cold seeped into my bones, making even the simplest tasks feel monumental.
Visibility diminished with the heavy snowfall, creating a surreal yet daunting atmosphere.
Another unforgettable moment was driving up to Teton Pass, a mountain pass with an elevation of 9,584 feet. The drive was treacherous, the road slick with ice and snow, but the reward was a view so breathtaking it felt like standing at the edge of the world. The snow-covered peaks stretched endlessly, their rugged beauty heightened by the harsh winter light. Standing there, with the wind whipping around me, I felt a sense of accomplishment and awe that made every nerve-wracking turn on the icy road worth it.
Then, there was the storm. Its arrival was heralded by a heavy, foreboding sky that seemed to press down on the land. Roads became impassable as snow piled up in thick drifts, and we had no choice but to leave three days earlier than planned.
The drive to the airport was a white-knuckle journey, the car skidding on ice as the snow whipped furiously against the windshield. At the airport, our flight was delayed for hours as crews worked tirelessly to de-ice all planes.
When we finally took off, it was only to land in Dallas and miss our connecting flight to Miami
Exhausted, we spent the night in a nondescript airport hotel, the storm still raging in my thoughts.
By the time I finally reached Miami, I was drained but deeply grateful to be home.
Despite the challenges, the trip was everything I’d hoped for and more. Each photograph was hard-won, a testament to perseverance and passion.
The Mormon Row barns, the Snake River Overlook, the snow-covered streets of Jackson Hole, the views from Teton Pass, and the charm of the Teton Village—each location added a layer to the story I was crafting.
These weren’t just pictures. They were stories, each one etched with the memory of frozen hands, long hikes, and fleeting moments of magic.
I felt a deep sense of gratitude. Grand Teton had tested me, but it had also rewarded me in ways I couldn’t have imagined. This wasn’t just a trip; it was a triumph. The cold, the exhaustion, the struggle—it all melted away when I looked at my photos. They captured something raw and real, something that no amount of warmth or comfort could ever replicate.
Back in Miami, as I sorted through the images, I could almost feel the cold again, hear the wind, and smell the snowstorm on the air. Each frame was a reminder of the resilience it took to capture it, a story waiting to be told. And for that, I’d brave the cold all over again.
If you’ve been captivated by the breathtaking scenes of Grand Teton in winter, you can bring these moments into your home. My images from this unforgettable trip are available for purchase at www.wanderlustbysusanne.com. Additionally, you can explore an even greater variety of my work at www.susannekremer.com. If you’re looking for a specific image featured in this post, feel free to contact me at skremerphoto@gmail.com. Simply send me a screenshot of the image along with your desired size, and I’ll make it available for you.
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