I didn’t write the four days we spent in Yellowstone. I wanted to absorb the full impact of this huge park before I put my thoughts down on paper. Rangers had warned us that there would be a lot of driving and walking if we wanted to cover the massive and starkly different areas of the park. They were not kidding. In addition to that, Yellowstone was crowded, and it’s not even the peak of summer. (This would be a nightmare of epic proportions for me, a why bother.) Buses belched out their exhaust and their passengers at every viewpoint. Crowds of binocular and scope wielding tourists sprinted across roadways, stopped in the middle of roads, perched in snaking lines on hilltops. The frenzy was off-putting but understandable. After all, I have felt the quickening of pulse that accompanies a predator sighting. But there is something lacking when the wilderness suddenly looks like rush hour.
Don’t get me wrong, there are places to get lost in Yellowstone. We entered the Park from the south entrance, a remote stretch of road where waterfalls and great views of distant peaks greet you. After checking out the West Thumb area, our first exposure to the eerie geyser landscape, we camped our first night in West Yellowstone at a KOA, when the temperature dipped to 27 degrees. On the second day we focused on the Old Faithful area and the Hayden Valley. The next day, we drove the entire Lamar Valley to the east entrance and Cooke City. That night we stayed in Lake Lodge on Yellowstone Lake. We had planned on exploring the Grand Canyon of Yellowstone the following day but the weather warnings were dire. The passes would almost certainly be closed and we needed to be on the north end of Yellowstone so we could get to Helena, Montana by the 25th for Mark’s Oral Surgery recertification test. The weather was throwing a wrench in our plans but like all wise seasoned campers(thats right, it’s been long enough to call us seasoned) we punted and made alternate plans. We woke up super early the next morning and made a beeline to the Grand Canyon, we walked both rims, ogled at the stupendous 308 ft high waterfall(twice the size of Niagara!) and skedaddled to the Dunraven Pass. I was a little bummed because there were some great hikes around the falls I would have liked to explore but the pass beckoned. At 8859 ft, Dunraven is the highest mountain pass in the park and I’m so glad we drove over it that day. It was a hairy drive in drizzle and sure enough the pass was closed the next three days, stranding tons of tourists essentially cutting off the south side from the north. Luckily, we had scored a site at Mammoth Campgrounds, a place that ended up ranking high on our list of favorites.
When we entered Mammoth Hot Springs area, I was dumbfounded and started to chuckle. I’d been attempting to get photos of elk from afar, across valleys, behind stands of trees, and here in front of the Mammoth Hotel was a massive Bull Elk and his harem. Just hanging out, while tourists by the dozens were being constantly corralled by the rangers on every corner to stay at least 100 yards away. Even better, our campground had a resident elk herd and the Bull Elk was positioned right next to our campsite blocking the pathway to the bathroom! That night was to be the more adventurous spent in the Cricket. No electric meant no heat. After a quick trip to Livingston to purchase a heavy Pendleton blanket, we were prepared. The rain moved in and the torrents pelted our metal trailer sounding like a drum band . The temperature dropped and the rain turned to snow and the bull elk yodeled it’s ancient cry right outside our window. It was haunting and I lay there with my eyes wide open to the blackness. These were the moments I craved. My extremities were frozen but my body was warmed by Mark’s and despite the racket of rain and hail and the calls of the wild I was content, wanting for nothing. Sleep would come but I only waited to hear the lilting cry of the elk once more.
Yellowstone then is about moments. It’s overwhelming in the extreme, too much of everything. Too many people, too much to see and comprehend, too much distance to cover. My favorite parts were the snippets of experience. Old Faithful’s eruption was strangely anti-climactic but the walk through the boardwalks over alien terrain with bubbling mudpots and steam stacks and crystalline blue pools with yellow green edges made me feel like a curious kid filled with wonderment. I couldn’t help but wonder at the first explorers to come upon this scene. There were warning signs everywhere to not step off the path: at your own risk! What did these early adventurers see? Were they astounded? They must have felt like they’d stumbled onto another planet. This abruptness and foreignness can still be found in Yellowstone. That must be the attraction. Get a little off the beaten path and you are alone in a land of crazy. There is also the discomfiting knowledge that you are walking upon a volcanic fault and at any time you can be blown to smithereens. That underlying, albeit low risk element of mortality enhances the entire experience.
Yellowstone is a place of extremes. The volcanic areas, the deep canyon with the insane waterfall, the Mammoth terraces with their travertine terraces of green and yellow. My favorite areas were the wide open valleys . The Hayden & Lamar valleys are know to be the place to see wildlife. At one time, in the late 60’s, the valleys were filled with bears on the road, climbing on cars, making havoc with visitors all due to the open pit garbage dumps. Since 1970, Yellowstone eliminated the dumps and the bears have naturally retreated to the edges of the valleys, and a more natural diet of plant and animal foods. We witnessed great herds of bison and pronghorn in both valleys and rocky mountain goats high up on the outcroppings.
A highlight: we are driving through the Hayden Valley. Cresting a hill, we see a great crowd of people, at least 200 on a ridge to our left. Cars were pulled haphazardly to both sides of the road. Something was happening. I was all over it, I wanted to stop. We were attached to the trailer which makes pulling over on the narrow shoulders difficult and I am begging Mark to just STOP and let me hop out. I do and I grab my binocs and run down the road with a group of others. I raise them to my eyes and I see nothing but a brownish clump on the ridge in front of me. The crowd is murmuring and buzzing. I want to be in on this, what am I missing?? It’s excruciating. Then a man next to me points to an elderly woman a few feet away and says “Go ask to look through her scope, she has been here since dawn. Wait till you see.” So I do. I get over my reticence and and approach. “Mam, can I take peek?” She is generous. “This is what you are seeing,” and she narrates, “That there is a grizzly, he killed the elk earlier this morning and has been laying on it most of the day, guarding his prey and occasionally feasting upon it”. I can see it. He is huge. I can see his bristly fur. She casually asked me, “Would you like to see the wolf?” Really? Why, yes please. She swings the scope slightly to the left, and there is a great gray wolf pacing back and forth, eyeing the bear and his kill. The scopes are far superior to my expensive binoculars. The wolf and the grizzly were close enough that I could see their eyes and the fine hairs of their coats. I could feel the tension in the air, the wariness and heightened attention they are paying to each other. It’s a powerful experience, being an audience to the interplay between predator and prey. I could understand why there were dozens of “professional scopers” set up for the day. It was better then any television or sports event for these nature lovers. It was an opportunity to witness a scene that usually plays out in the backcountry hidden from human eyes. There was also a wonderful sense of community out there on the roadsides and in the fields. People developed a camaraderie over their shared excitement. Those who had invested in the expensive spotting scopes(and we did consider a purchase but I balked at $450) were only too happy to share their equipment and that interaction usually turned into a conversation.
I finally returned to the car, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction. I saw a Grizzly up close and I survived to tell the tale. It was not the near death experience I’d feared. From a distance, I was able to honor the reverence of the moment and that was just fine.
When I return to Yellowstone, I have a plan. There is a fantastic organization called the Yellowstone Forever Institute. They offer field seminars with wolf biologists or geothermal scientists, a combination of classroom and out in the field experiences on a wide range of subjects allowing an in-depth exploration of the treasures that lay hidden in this park. That’s how I want to do Yellowstone. I want go deep, to understand the complexities of the natural world beyond the roads and the boardwalks, hidden to my eye. Until next time.