The restless land
Among the greatest of the park’s many attractions is the solitude one can savor in the midst of magnificent scenery. Only a short walk separates us from the highway, torrents of cars, noise, and tension. Away from these, everything seems restful.
Quiescent it may seem, yet the landscape is not static but dynamic. This is one of the many exciting ideas that geology has contributed to society. The concept of the “everlasting hills” is a myth. All the features around us are actually rather short-lived in terms of geologic time. The discerning eye detects again and again the restlessness of the land. We have discussed many bits of evidence that show how the landscape and the earth’s crust beneath it are constantly being carved, pushed up, dropped down, folded, tilted, and faulted.
The Teton landscape is a battleground, the scene of a continuing unresolved struggle between the forces that deform the earth’s crust and raise the mountains and the slow processes of erosion that strive to level the uplands, fill the hollows, and reduce the landscape to an ultimate featureless plain. The remainder of this booklet is devoted to tracing the seesaw conflict between these inexorable antagonists through more than 2.5 billion years as they shaped the present landscape—and the battle still goes on.
Evidence of the struggle is all around us. Even though to some observers it may detract from the restfulness of the scene, perhaps it conveys to all of us a new appreciation of the tremendous dynamic forces responsible for the magnificence of the Teton Range.
The battle is indicated by the small faults that displace both the land surface and young deposits at the east base of Mount Teewinot, Rockchuck Peak ([fig. 15]), and other places along the foot of the Tetons.
Jackson Hole continues to drop and tilt. The gravel-covered surfaces that originally sloped southward are now tilted westward toward the mountains. The Snake River, although the major stream, is not in the lowest part of Jackson Hole; Fish Creek, a lesser tributary near the town of Wilson, is 15 feet lower. For 10 miles this creek flows southward parallel to the Snake River but with a gentler gradient, thus permitting the two streams to join near the south end of Jackson Hole. As tilting continues, the Snake River west of Jackson tries to move westward but is prevented from doing so by long flood-control levees built south of the park.
Recent faults also break the valley floor between the Gros Ventre River and the town of Jackson.
The ever-changing piles of rock debris that mantle the slopes adjacent to the higher peaks, the creeping advance of rock glaciers, the devastating snow avalanches, and the thundering rockfalls are specific reminders that the land surface is restless. Jackson Hole contains more landslides and rock mudflows than almost any other part of the Rocky Mountain region. They constantly plague road builders ([fig. 17]) and add to the cost of other types of construction.
All of these examples of the relentless battle between constructive and destructive processes modifying the Teton landscape are but minor skirmishes. The bending and breaking of rocks at the surface are small reflections of enormous stresses and strains deep within the earth where the major conflict is being waged. It is revealed every now and then by a convulsion such as the 1959 earthquake in and west of Yellowstone Park. Events of this type release much more energy than all the nuclear devices thus far exploded by man.
Figure 17. Slide blocking main highway in northern part of Grand Teton National Park. National Park Service photo by Eliot Davis, May 1952.