Moonset to Moonrise: A One-Day Ascent of Mt. Moran with Exum Mountain Guides

Some climbs call your name quietly.

Not with fame, not with crowds—but with a kind of stillness that stirs something deeper inside you.

Mount Moran was that for me.

It doesn’t boast like the Grand. It waits, massive and unmoved. A sleeping giant with glacier-streaked flanks and a summit block that seems to drift above the range like a stone ship. Unique and unwavering, only for the strong-willed.

And so we prepared—not with bravado, but with humility.

In the shadowed granite bowl below the tram at Jackson Hole, we practiced belays and knots, ropework and rhythm. Nothing flashy. Just the quiet rituals that build trust between climbers—because trust is the only thing that matters when the mountain starts to rise around you.

What follows is a story of water and granite, of stars reflected in alpine lakes and hands pressed against cool, ancient stone.

It’s about a line of rock carved by time, and what it feels like to trace it upward, all the way to where you meet the sky.

Beneath the Stars and Moon

We pushed off from the String Lake shore under a sky riddled with shimmering stars and a glowing moon. A calm blanketed the water, our canoe slicing forward with each dip of the paddle into the glassy dark water. In the pre-dawn stillness, the Tetons loomed as shadows, immense and ancient. The canoe glided beneath them as if we were passing through a dream.

When the shoreline ended, we hoisted the canoe to our shoulders and portaged through pine forest—pine needles soft beneath our boots, breath clouding in the cold morning air. From Leigh Lake, the silhouette of Mount Moran finally revealed itself in stark relief. Its sheer east face—a black-and-bone monolith—greeted the first pink light of sunrise.

We sat still for a moment. High on the ridgeline, the first rays of alpenglow tickled Moran’s summit. The birth of a new day in one of the most remote corners of Grand Teton National Park.

The crew: Brenton Reagan, Lead Exum Mountain Guide and Marketing Director with over 25 years of guiding experience. Jeff Archibald, who prepared Brenton and I for climbing season at Modular Training. And me, Nate Berenson, eager adventurer and Content Manager at Jackson Hole Mountain Resort, behind the lens.

The Glacier and the Climb Before the Climb

We stashed the canoe and began the long march upward—gear-laiden and silent from the immediate challenge of navigating upwards. The trail morphed quickly into moraine. We gained elevation steadily, then sharply, ascending alongside the dramatic runout of the Skillet Glacier, the largest and most prominent glacier on Moran’s southeastern flank. The slope here—tipped at 45 degrees or more—felt like an endless stone escalator. We dug in with each step, sweat mixing with stoke.

At the top of the glacier’s tongue, we reached the famed CMC Camp. Here, we donned harnesses, flaked the rope, and clinked through cams and nuts as if preparing for battle. Our objective now lay directly above us: the CMC Route, a 5.5 to 5.6 alpine classic laced with exposure, elegance, and deeply rewarding movement.

The CMC Route: Ascend to the Sky

The first pitches wove upward through slabs and corners—moves requiring trust in footwork and friction. Though the technical grade isn’t high, the exposure is constant, forcing a calm, deliberate mindset.

Then came the most iconic feature: Drizzlepuss—a jagged, vertical block with an appropriately theatrical name. To climb it is to stand face-to-face with a chunk of mountain that demands focus, route-reading, and commitment. Atop its crest, we transitioned briefly into a downclimb and a traverse that required as much mental energy as it did physical. Climbing down onto a small rock platform, the striated rock gave way to thousands of feet of air on either side. But a minor mental obstacle on a climb filled with tests of fortitude.

Not long after, we reached Unsold’s Needle—a dramatic gendarme punctuating the skyline. This airy landmark demands a belayed maneuver around its knife-edge base, the yawning canyon below reminding you of just how high and far you’ve come. The rock was coarse and honest, but every move required care. Precision and poise. The route gives no freebies and takes no prisoners.

Throughout the climb, the black dike—a narrow strip of igneous diabase cutting through the face—ran alongside us like a scar from the mountain’s volcanic past. Formed millions of years ago, this ancient intrusion tells a story of geologic violence and change. Surrounding it, Mount Moran’s core is made of gneiss, a banded metamorphic rock known for its solidity and sharp features—ideal for alpine climbing.

Near the top, the final pitches brought us into a totally different world. The rock changed color and texture. Gone was the rugged gneiss—replaced by Flathead sandstone, a pale, wind-polished sedimentary rock that caps Moran in a surreal, tabletop flatness. It's this geological oddity that gives Moran its name-sake character: not a spire, but a summit that feels like a mesa in the sky.

Summit Silence & Awe

We stepped onto the summit, dropping packs and helmets onto the lichen-splattered stones. No cairn. A simple emblem marker for our conquest. And sprawling, breathtaking views of the Tetons from a vantage few ever witness.

The Grand stood regal in the distance, flanked by Owen and Teewinot. Below us, Jackson and Leigh Lakes gleamed like a gigantic mirror. Smoke from a distant wildfire coiled into the sky, and we sat for long minutes—no talking, just letting the scene soak in and enjoying the momentary luxury of stillness.

Descent and Reflection

The route down was no afterthought. Several rappels and careful downclimbing tested tired minds and muscles. Precision was still mandatory above such drastic exposure. After a few hours, we returned to the CMC camp, then retraced our steps down along the glacier run-out—quads burning, knees tested, but hearts still full. Every hour or so, we joked that the lake shore and canoe seemed no closer than it did before. Another test of willpower as we longed for smooth paddle strokes beneath a dusky, starry sky.

At long last, we reached the canoe at the lake shore. We paddled back across Leigh and portaged in the early evening darkness, our earlier wonder now replaced by fatigue and quiet pride. The day had stretched across dimensions—water to stone, dark to light, struggle to triumph. Awesome disbelief consumed us, internal fire still burning bright whilst feeling like a bag of brittle bones. I ascended as one man and descended as another, forever changed by the biggest challenge of my life. This is what climbing in the Tetons is all about.

Are You Up For The Challenge?

The CMC Route on Mount Moran is more than a climb. It’s a test of presence—both physical and mental. It demands alpine efficiency, technical skill, and endurance. The exposure is real. The route’s history runs deep. From geologic marvels to iconic features like Drizzlepuss and Unsold’s Needle, it’s a journey through both space and time.

It’s graded at 5.5 to 5.6, but don't be fooled—this is remote, big-wall mountaineering. Every step counts.

More importantly, the CMC is a portal into a quieter side of the Tetons. A place where your rope team is alone with the sky, where summits are hard-earned, and where the striated rock tells stories tens of millions of years old.

Over the course of one day, Moran changed all of us for the better.

An all-encompassing, transformative experience: the true mark of a legendary mountain.

Exum Mountain Guides offers several ways to climb Mount Moran, each designed to match your skill level and appetite for adventure. For experienced hikers and intermediate climbers, the one-day ascent of the CMC Route is a full-value push as you've just learned. For those seeking a more measured pace or looking to savor the solitude, Exum also offers overnight ascents with a bivy at CMC Camp, allowing climbers to break up the approach and spend a night deep in the Tetons. All trips are led by Exum's highly trained, AMGA-certified guides who prioritize safety, education, and a deep respect for the mountains. If you're ready to step into one of the most remote and rewarding alpine climbs in Grand Teton National Park, book your Mount Moran ascent with Exum Mountain Guides today—and experience an adventure worth recounting for the rest of your life.

Photos and words by Nate Berenson.