The bison and surrounding wildlife: the congregation. Myself? A guest. A walk-in. The guy sitting nervously in the back. Awkward in my unfamiliarity. Eager in my participation. Seeker of answers to unformed questions, guidance to unknown places. Members stare. Beyond them stands the jagged pulpit. Its towers above the valley like a cathedral as the creator delivers a stunningly visual sermon. Though I can't fully comprehend its meaning, something in me understands its profoundness. I watch in quiet contemplation: The clouds, the mountains, the pulpit. A click. I lower my camera. The congregation looks to me with collective reproach then bows in prayer, ready again to receive communion.
And on the 4.533 billionth year, roughly 9 million years ago, the Teton Range began to rise. Its peaks now stretch starkly toward the sky like, well... like towers of a cathedral. It's a wondrous view to behold, especially considering its contrast to the strikingly flat lands of Jackson Hole to its immediate east. This geographical contrast can be attributed to the mountain's rare and recent creation. While most mountains are formed by colliding tectonic plates, the Teton Range was created by the split of the Teton Fault. Extending about 40 miles at the base of the Teton Range, the Teton Fault began to stretch apart roughly 9 million years ago. Its eventual split, which occurred in a succession of violent earthquakes, lifted the western section of the fault (Tetons) and lowered the eastern section (Jackson Hole). Today, the Tetons stand roughly 7K feet above Jackson Hole's valley floor. More impressive, though, is that the valley of Jackson Hole has dropped almost 3x more than the Tetons rose during that 9 million year span. In that sense, Jackson Hole is literally sitting in a hole, or at least a depression, next to the Teton Fault. Church-goers beware: it is written that on another day in the not-so-distant future the Teton Fault will split again.