Transition Zone

Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming

On our way out of Yellowstone, we are driving once more through Lamar Valley as the Northeast Entrance Road is technically U.S. Highway 212. Before we get to that point in the day though, we were stopped on the road by a herd of bison meandering from one side to the other. We definitely weren’t in a hurry (nor were the bison), but one California driver showed his disdain for some stupid animals and stopped cars as he pressed his Big Ass Truck through the waiting cars and past the bison while gesticulating wildly at us sheep who were observing these creatures’ right of way. Sadly, those of us who don’t (or no longer) live in California don’t really expect any different behavior from these elitist tools. And what did we get for our patience? This photo is of a beautiful young bison who personally came up to our car and thanked us for not running over any members of her tribe.

Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming

Then that very same baby bison offered to have its parents pose for us, Dad looking stoic and Mom gazing lovingly at her mate. Our fairy tale visit to Yellowstone is now complete, except for not seeing bears, wolves, herds of elk, bald eagles, lions, the largest eruption ever of Old Faithful, a helicopter view of Grand Prismatic, witnessing the super volcano hurling its guts over the Eastern United States, and Jesus appearing in the heavens above. Other than those omissions, our time here has been great.

Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming

Somehow, we ended up under the caldera rim as smoke started billowing from the rumbling floor of Yellowstone. Is this the big one? Are we about to be launched into the stratosphere to get that birds-eye view of the total destruction the tabloid press and Discovery Channel have been promising us for years? False alarm, we’re just passing through a mountain range on the way towards Cooke City, Montana.

Beartooth Mountain Range in Montana

We are in the Beartooth Mountains for my first-ever visit to this rarely accessible range. The southern end of this road is often closed due to snow which has stymied Caroline and me driving this famously scenic byway in the western United States on previous occasions. The rest of the images that accompany this blog post are seriously compromised as the smoke from California and Oregon wildfires were making for poor visibility conditions. The following photos have a judicious amount of dehazing applied to them.

Beartooth Mountain Range in Montana

The short stretch of Beartooth Highway, a.k.a. U.S. 212 that I’ve traveled on in the past I thought might be indicative of the entire highway, and I therefore assumed that the beautiful photos I’d seen from deep in the mountains required hikes far away from the road, but today I would learn that this idea was wrong. This was the first stop along U.S. 212 that was so enchanting that I had to pull over. Mind you, I wanted to pull over a dozen times before this, but convincing myself that I wouldn’t get a reasonable shot left me with so much doubt that I hadn’t given in. Reflecting upon even this image, I feel cheated as we were near the top of a pass in a large meadow, and there was so much more that captured the eye than this photo represents that I’d like to exclude it, but then I’d have to also end this blog entry right here.

Beartooth Mountain Range in Montana

In-person, the pink and gray granite against the green meadow was so vibrant that it encouraged me to attempt grabbing images that avoid the hazy horizon, but without direct sunlight, my camera just didn’t do the job that my eyes were able to glean.

Beartooth Mountain Range in Montana

I should share that I took very few notes about this day while Jessica and I were out on our road trip, and so here I am eleven days later, looking at the images and considering what I want to say and finding it difficult to grab words that will be vibrant enough to convey how profound things appeared. This tight crop betrays the nature of what’s up here, though maybe that’s a good thing as it should press me even harder to bring Caroline on a return visit with the hopes of catching this range on a clear day.

Beartooth Mountain Range in Montana

I shot this as a panorama, but the blue haze towards the right of the lake obscured too much, so here’s the left corner. With this final bit of lament regarding air conditions, I’ll try to move on.

Beartooth Mountain Range in Montana

Every corner up here in the Beartooth Mountains begs the visitor to leave the car behind and go for a hike, but without knowledge of trail length, bear spray, or even somewhere to pull over, it’s not so easy as just venturing into the landscape. If a return visit is ever going to be possible, it should be with the idea that we will remain in the area for three to five days with a number of trails already selected.

Beartooth Mountain Range in Montana

Like our visits to the glaciated area along the Alsek River in Canada and Alaska, I’m in awe at the profusion of wildflowers which have the briefest of windows to explode on the scene before the snows begin to fall again and the days grow short.

Beartooth Mountain Range in Montana

Why isn’t this area a national park? I’m guessing that the main reason would be that the designation would then require a better effort to offer visitor services in a place that might only be intermittently visitable for 60 to 90 days a year. Jumping ahead in our drive through here, I got the impression in Red Lodge, Montana, where we were staying for a couple of nights, that there are parts of the Beartooth range that are accessible for a good part of the year. So, the problem of access might be restricted to the highest elevations and coming in from the southerly entrance.

Beartooth Mountain Range in Montana

If you suffer from a fear of heights, avoid this road. Being simultaneously drawn to look out at the horizon and demanding that I maintain tunnel vision can produce moments of panic as it feels like my eyes are drawn too deeply into what lies beyond the safety of the road.

Beartooth Mountain Range in Montana

Live cams need to be placed throughout the area, or better yet; I need to photograph a couple of dozen or more locations once a month for a year so everyone can see how these places change throughout the year.

Beartooth Mountain Range in Montana

One has to wonder why this road is even here. On one side is Cooke City, Montana, and entry to Yellowstone, but there are plenty of other ways into the park. On the other side is Red Lodge, Montana, with a small population of 2,200 that really doesn’t gain a thing having this road wend its way through such treacherous terrain. That must mean that this road is only here for the pleasure of those few travelers who learn about its existence and need to revel in such extraordinary sights.

Beartooth Mountain Range in Montana

Along the road, we encountered a construction site where a primitive single-lane dirt road must be navigated behind a pilot vehicle that takes us past a bridge being built. $27 million in improvements elevate the roadway over the landscape so animals will have a better path through the environment. As construction can only proceed during the short summer season, there’s no completion date in sight, but when it is finished, it promises to add to the nail-biting experience of being out on the edge of the earth.

We are obviously above the tree line here at 10,947 feet (3,336 meters) above the sea far below. Sorry, but I must lament that with the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally starting soon, the roar of the bikes hauling ass up here is a bit annoying. Of course, to them, the incredible vistas make for an exciting ride, but those who get out of the car and want to spend a moment in admiration of the solitude in such a remote area find it difficult with the constant racing by of so many bikers. Not only do we hear the noise of their stupidly loud exhausts, but we must also contend with radios blaring classic rock and country anthems.

To belabor the point, this public performance of these songs from motorcycles is my equivalent of hearing the Horst Wessel Song on a hike through the Zugspitze in Germany. Mountains are for quiet contemplation, not listening to AC/DC sing Thunderstruck or Lee Greenwood asking God to bless the U.S.A. Yeah, I’m that curmudgeon.

Beartooth Mountain Range in Montana

The expanse is nothing short of awe-inspiring; the scale exceeds any ability of the photograph to portray what is seen beyond the haze. For the rest of our drive out of the mountains, the weather was turning dark due to storms in the forecast, and I just wanted to exit the strenuous side of the drive, so this was the end of photos.

Arriving in Red Lodge, Montana, it was raining as we checked into the hotel, but we were quickly gone to find a restaurant. Just a few minutes later, the rain stopped again, and instead of grabbing a bite to eat, we dipped into the local coffee shop that was closing at 6:00 to catch up on some note-taking and ensure we’d be awake past 8:00 p.m.

Dinner was at Piccola Cucina Ox Pasture Italian restaurant. What this place is doing in a town of 2,200 is beyond me, as their other locations are in New York City and Ibiza. Real and I do mean real Italian cuisine is to be found here. When I ordered the Cacio e Pepe I would have never dreamed that they actually make their pasta here locally and that my dish would be served from a cheese wheel at my table instead of a plate of something they call Cacio e Pepe.

Wild Nature

Grand Prismatic Spring at Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming

It’s right in front of you, the biggest of its kind on these shores, but you can’t see it as it hides below a veil of steam. We are at Midway Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park, and right there is the Grand Prismatic Spring. Some walk by disappointed that the thing they know from photos or TV is not can’t be seen by them today while I relish the idea that I’m once again in the proximity of greatness.

Midway Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming

What would be needed to wake people to the fact that they are always near greatness? Because this rainbow-hued spring cannot be viewed in all of its vibrancy, people are grumbling while perceiving something was lost during their vacation. Nothing is common here; everything is out of the ordinary and unique, yet they fixate on seeing one or two things to define the value of where they’ve been. For some, seeing Old Faithful and bison will be enough to say they’ve seen Yellowstone, but that’s as shortsighted as going to Paris and briefly seeing the Mona Lisa and glancing at the Eifel Tower in order to tell everyone back home that they’ve been to the City of Light while ignoring the billions of other things that make Paris the city it is. While no one can see the entirety of a place in hours, we can be grateful for what we do have the opportunity to experience.

Midway Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming

Looking at the earth below our feet, we can gaze into the heavens using the reflection of the sky above while the waters that flow from the Grand Prismatic Spring continue to build the travertine structures and create beds for the bacteria that live in these organic puzzle pieces. The tiniest bit of skill is required to extract words from the language to give meaning to where we are, but when we betray that potential by reducing our vocabulary to grumbling, we forget to pay homage to our humanity and good fortune. We do not only smile at the baby, we convey a multitude of cultural and emotional context that is sharing with the next generation what we find important. When we pass through nature and find disappointment that we didn’t see the bear or some other particular thing, we are breaking the contract of sharing our best traits with the next generation by teaching them to vocalize their disapproval for all those around them who might be enjoying the moment.

Midway Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming

Behind me, while I was taking in the Grand Prismatic Spring, was the Excelsior Geyser, also shrouded in steam but with the gray sky and bits of sunlight peeking through. I looked at the reflections in that direction and couldn’t believe my luck at how many times I’ve stood in the park watching billowing clouds rise from hot springs that give us hints of things unseen below us.

Midway Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming

Words and emotions are the communicative hints of who we are within that are largely unseen by others. When we express ourselves with enthusiasm we are recognizing our good luck at how many times we’ve been in a situation worth sharing. Our essence of being human is locked in this exchange just as the waters of the geyser create the picture of the object you are looking for.

Midway Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming

Far from the waters that flow from the hot spring, beauty is also to be found. In a similar sense, the words and emotions people share flow far away from them, offering impressions to artists and new generations who borrow from those precious moments to shape culture. To desire only the big picture is to throw away the largest mass of unrealized potential, and this is the condition of those who only desire to exemplify the most superficial nature of the self, the exterior. We inhabit a multitude of various planes of existence that create our cultural complexity, and yet, by displaying only our external selves, we fail to share the inner self, maybe because we are afraid of the person inside we don’t really know. In my view, it’s a tragedy that we fail at putting the deeper self on display while we invest so much energy and money visiting the gym, buying trendy clothes, the right accouterments, tattoos, our cars, and homes that demonstrate the external self. We should aim for the same symbiotic relationship of elements we witness in the complex beauty we find in nature. When someone is more aligned with that symbiotic balanced personhood, we are better prepared to find magnificence in the little things.

Standing on our own atop a monument of what lies below the surface takes daring, as in our culture, we have no real room for individuality. Like here in Yellowstone, we don’t care about the hydrological function below the surface; we only desire to see the herd of animals, the forest, or the geyser as it’s geysering.

Excited to get to Grand Prismatic before the crowds, we waited for breakfast until we reached the perfect place for it. That ended up being after we turned east, away from Mammoth Hot Springs, on our way to the Lamar Valley at Blacktail Pond Overlook. I should finally note that we are traveling with much of our own food to cut down on expenses, hence why our first meal of the day was roadside.

I have to give my daughter credit as, like this ground squirrel, she takes an intense interest in observing stuff and trying to find her own angle as she snaps away, taking photos that will join her book of memories. The entire drive from Phoenix to this corner of Wyoming, she’s been talking about seeing animals along the way; this is the reminder for her that she not only saw ground squirrels but even had one rush up to her and try to poop on her shoe.

Bison in Lamar Valley at Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming

It’s rutting season for the bison, and the males are emitting some impressive guttural sounds. If their size doesn’t frighten you, these deep grunts certainly will.

Bison in Lamar Valley at Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming

As they compete for dominance among one another, they pair off and let the fur fly as we onlookers marvel at the primal force and musculature on display here in the park. Jessica and I were able to hang out at a safe distance and watch the fury the bison were directing at rival males to land prime mating opportunities if they could prove they were at the apex of this hierarchy.

Bison in Lamar Valley at Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming

These incredibly beautiful animals are but a few of the 360,000 that exist in the North American herd today. Prior to the arrival of our European ancestors, it is estimated that 30-60 million of them existed. At the low point, only about 1,000 of them were alive as they verged on extinction. If farmers on the borders of Yellowstone had their way, this herd would be destroyed as they risk bringing disease to the nearby cattle populations. A disease that ironically was brought in by non-indigenous cattle in the first place. By the way, those 360,000 bison are nothing when you think that right here in the United States, we slaughter 46 million cows, 121 million pigs, and 9 billion chickens per year, and it’s the existence of 360,000 bison that irks the cattle industry.

Okay, I’ll get off the mountain and come back down to being a tourist. Leaving Lamar Valley, we couldn’t take the road that passes Mt. Washburn (this is not that mountain) as that road is closed for construction. So we backtracked through Mammoth, past Norris Geyser Basin, where we turned left towards the lake again in hopes of seeing more elk.

Okay, so this isn’t wildlife, but if you think about it for a moment, this is wildlife.

West Thumb at Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming

Over the course of our drive to West Thumb Geyser Basin, we spotted a few elk, but with periodic rain and dark skies, I wasn’t able to capture a half-decent image, but that’s okay, by the time we reached this corner of the lake we had a respite in the foul weather.

West Thumb at Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming

Here at the Fishing Cone, it was common practice 120 years ago to stand on the cone and fish for trout. Once caught, the fish was dunked into the hot waters of the geyser and cooked before incredulous visitors. Back then, it was possible to see this geyser erupt to heights of 40 feet over the lake.

West Thumb at Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming

Back in 2003, the boardwalk led right up against this hot spring. I can only imagine it was moved closer to the lake to help stop people throwing stuff into the pool. While we are lucky to have been able to walk the original trail, I understand that we humans are not trustworthy to follow the rules and act respectfully. If you’d like to see that old boardwalk and what this pool looks like on a sunny day, click here and scroll down 24 photos.

West Thumb at Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming

Here we are at the edge of controlled and wild nature. In one corner, we have the National Park’s attempt at controlling people who oftentimes are being introduced to a vast, uncontrollable side of America, and in the other corner the untameable and unpredictable face of a caldera. Nature cannot bow to our will, though we do have the ability to harm it. In the end, it has a greater ability to inflict destruction upon us in profoundly unsettling ways. We are the ones who, with knowledge and the ability to control our actions, are supposed to respect nature and support how we can symbiotically live within it as it sustains us and all other life.

West Thumb at Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming

This dry, hot spring that might have also been a geyser is a dusty bowl here on our visit. Is it only dry due to the time of year, was it clogged with debris people threw into it, or is something ominous at work where the hydrology of the park is cooking up even bigger changes? We are not afforded the luxury of knowing the intention of such large complex systems below the surface of the earth, so why do we think we can control even larger and more complex systems such as oceans and the atmosphere of our planet? I think indigenous people are correct in saying that modern man does not pay enough respect to the land we live on or the skies we live under.

West Thumb at Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming

Forboding sky, meet convulsive earth, with these little naive people standing between you who believe they reign tall in the hierarchy of this spectacular evolving creation. I dream of the day they stand with respect before nature and harness their knowledge to instill values in their kind that are able to invest in places such as this in the same way they do their cars, homes, and cities. Fortunately for humans, there are no destructive hordes of creatures harvesting or burning their cities, and there are no other animals or organisms on earth that intentionally poison their drinking water or work so vigilantly as they themselves do to soil their environment. In that respect, humans might be one of nature’s biggest mistakes.

Grand Prismatic Spring at Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming

Well, here we are back at Midway Geyser Basin for a late-day visit to Grand Prismatic Spring to see how conditions changed between morning and now.

Midway Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming

Everything checks out for being in its place. Beauty still rules the view. Best of all though, thanks to the overcast skies, the parking lot, earlier quite overloaded with dozens of cars waiting to get in, was half empty, meaning we were here mostly alone. Just us here with some hot springs, distant trees, threatening storm clouds, the warm and glorious bacteria cheering our return, and some unfathomable amount of air and earth. Yep, just us.

Midway Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming

Hey John, is this really one of your best examples of photographic magic? Well, that’s purely subjective, isn’t it? What I can assure you of is that it’s a snapshot of a place and a moment that I experienced with my daughter here on August 2nd, 2021.

Grand Prismatic Spring at Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming

Yep, that’s lava flowing out of the water, or maybe it’s a trillion parties of bacteria in their lit cities, as seen from this satellite view. Oops, I was wrong; this is the work of Banksy, who threw down some damn realistic-looking graffiti turning this plain old hot spring into a multi-billion dollar artwork.

So Much To Do

Writing setup in Old Faithful Inn Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming

With overcast skies early this morning, I sat down in a very quiet Old Faithful Inn to catch up on some writing but quickly realized my opportunity to see the lodge just this way was a rarity. Sadly, I didn’t wander the place as with the sun potentially making an arrival; I needed to jump-start the fingers to do some bidding of the mind to capture my thoughts for yesterday’s blog entry. Jessica is off outside for a short walk, seeing the awesome things I’ll fail to capture as my priorities have changed so dramatically since any of my previous visits to Yellowstone.

Old Faithful Inn Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming

With so much to do but limited time to do it all, we try to make priorities. Most guests appear to be sleeping in right now while behind the scenes; others are likely already prepping for the needs of those still behind closed doors. I need to put this to rest right now: I finished what I could write about yesterday, and it is time to get myself outside to see what the day and my imagination have in store.

Upper Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming

It’s cold and gray when I get outside, and I’m reluctant to explore. Something is missing in my joie de vivre, and that something is Caroline. It’s bittersweet finding myself at Yellowstone and not being able to connect to her passionate embrace of life. This leads to the question, how can I so easily find my enthusiasm to be in a place such as Europe when she’s not there? The answer is I’m trying to write to my wife during those times, but I’m distracted by such busy days out here with my daughter, and our personalities are not quite as in tune as Caroline’s and mine.

My inclination was to drag my bag of melancholy back into Old Faithful Inn and continue writing. I’ll start with a love letter to my wife before detouring with a good venting of whatever spleen was clogging up my happiness, but after Jessica and I walked awhile, things lightened up within me, and with the sun emerging, so did better spirits, but, oh how I wish Caroline was here with us.

There are as many memories here as there are trees and hot springs, and every step is a walk into experiences shared with my wife. I can’t begin to figure out how to make memories here for my daughter and me, as it seems that everything is seeping with the essence of Caroline.

After our long walk over the Upper Geyser Basin, we dipped into the cafe next door to the lodge for a quick bite and some water and then a return to the inn as I’d forgotten something in our room. With a full stomach and some sense, I needed to write something. I sat down at the same table as earlier and ended up feeling more tired than inspired. Maybe we should get up and go out for some more exploring of things?

Then, somewhere along the trail, I start to gather glimmers about what the issue might be, but first, some background. Of course, there’d be some other details as rarely, if ever, do I just drop into a concise explanation of anything. In national parks, where I should be leaving the rest of the world and my troubles behind me, I find myself locked in turmoil as, depending on the size of crowds I encounter, I have to immerse myself not just in nature but the morass that is a microcosm of our planet. During this time of pandemic, my immersion takes on interesting qualities. While I was in Germany I was dealing primarily with Germans, but here in Yellowstone, I’m mostly here with Americans.

As is typical for this time of year, should people be traveling (which they are), there are lots of visitors in the park. So, like in a high-end shopping center, I’m here with those people who can afford to spend $500 to $1500 a day on vacation. By and large, the experience regarding the human element in this park is not pleasant. The rangers and staff are great, as are a good handful of the visitors, but a majority are the worst. Not in some criminal or sociopathic kind of way but in attitude.

Amongst all socioeconomic classes of Americans are those who lack any hint of authenticity. I’m certain that to their other superficial friends and family, they are the greatest people ever, no doubt at all, but from my throne of judgment, I cannot find a hint of their empathy for others. Without empathy, you are not allowed into the club of the authentic.

I walked by a man who, by appearance, might have played a different role, but here on the Upper Geyser Basin, he was pushing either his own mother or his mother-in-law in a wheelchair. It’s hard to portray your arrogant loftiness when hunched over a person with disabilities. Back in June in Germany, walking at a snail’s pace with my mother-in-law as she scooted along with her walker, there’s no looking cool to others except those who might empathize with your task at hand.

A mother with four young children cannot wear airs of aloofness when the tribe is running circles around her. She tries to maintain decorum, but you can easily see her limits. A large family vacation, where maybe a reunion is happening, will show you a lot of their dynamic as most everyone is reduced to being their most authentic selves, and those who do not fit in with letting their hair down walk away from the group and are easily identified.

Visitors to any natural area should be there in the moment to see what is there and not worry about being seen or how they appear to others, but the truth is that we humans, by and large, take our swimsuit bodies and nightclub faces everywhere we go. How many would be disappointed to know that there are those of us out here who find more beauty in the steam rising off a hot spring than their ridiculous attempt at looking “put together?”

We spent hours out here on the Upper Geyser Basin, and not once did I see anyone else, aside from my daughter, get down to eye level with the small stuff. Heck, they barely slowed down even for the 20-minute wait to see Old Faithful erupt – in the company of 100s of other visitors.

What’s not seen here are selfies of my daughter and/or me posing in front of any of this because we are too busy not seeing ourselves and instead are witnessing the tiny details that will hopefully seep into our memories, hopefully creating a dad-and-daughter experience in our 11 days into America.

All of these photos I’m posting from here at Yellowstone are conveying information, and while you may not be able to read precisely what is offered, you could do some research and discover what they are. I could share 45 photos of Jessica and you’d still not know a thing about her other than she’s in a national park on vacation with her father. That would be enough as far as you, the casual reader of my blog, are concerned, but for me, I need to know that my shared time with other people carries value that will enhance who I want to be.

Bacterial mats are authentic as they cannot portray anything more than what they are, which is not true with humans. We play roles and use appearance to create our initial line of defense. We avoid eye contact to stop others from establishing a line in, and, should we talk with the other, we can use curt answers to push them away. Most times, we do not have to engage these people; they are offering up who they are within their own families, to their spouses, or to the service person attempting to assuage their anger that life isn’t perfect for them right now.

You will not look deeper into those people who don’t want you to see their humanity as our society has conditioned them that this is weakness. Beauty, perfection, and aloofness are how we allow those below us to fully appreciate the grandeur of our existence. Sadly, this is how a large part of our society responds and finds its own values.

Should you have strangely enough made it to this point in what should have been a silent soliloquy not meant for visitors searching for Yellowstone and reaching my blog, please excuse me, but COVID has turned our world upside down, and while I don’t know about everyone else, I’m evaluating, analyzing, and scrutinizing everything about how the world within and around me is resetting.

But enough of all that, as the world of traveling is not all about the depth of thoughts, it is also allowed to be about the depth of vision and the unknown depths of a geyser. Just take a second to admire the orange bacteria right next to the white calcified ring of minerals on the left of the hot spring, where its opening shows you the aquamarine hue that is difficult to see in the most shallow region of the pool.

Then, on the other side of that pool is a dew-covered plant that is diffusing the individual branches with the light of the sun blurring the picture into shades of red, yellow, and white.

An island sprouts from the tepid, chalky waters and would be easily missed if all I was doing was glancing over the complex landscape, looking for the biggest features that could grab my attention. Qualifying all things great and beautiful into categories that in an instant can be sorted into important or irrelevant is not a place my brain works as I feel that everything has the potential to shine through if you are open to discovering the things that are just before your nose.

It seems that nature has created its own Japanese Zen Garden right here in a hot spring otherwise, how do you explain the nearly perfect layout of river stones around the travertine temple?

This is the appropriately named Ear Spring that I believe I’ve photographed on every other previous visit to Yellowstone. With my 9th occasion to be here, I wonder how the other images might differ from this. After 20 years of not using best practices to catalog my photos, I have to admit I have no easy method for finding those other images from the many 10’s of thousands I store on my computer. Labeling is important, but who knew I’d still be snapping photos of so many places I’ve visited again and again over the years?

From morning to midday we are still walking across the basin.

Taking time to watch a skittish chipmunk emerge from hiding before darting out to nibble on some sweet flowers. Seems to us that this cute little guy is as delightful as seeing bison.

I can’t help but think that this new travertine growth wasn’t damaged by an animal stepping onto the geyser surface but by a human mashing this fragile stuff. While we know it can repair itself, if you imagine just 1% of the 4 million visitors, or 40,000 of them, were walking on this, there would be very little for the 3.96 million of the rest of us to see.

Purple, gray, orange, brown, and white are organized into peculiar forms. In the top left of the image, I see a face to the right of a small skull, and if I were stoned, I would probably see ten other visual features I’d swear were there.

Formerly known as Oyster Pool, this serene-looking hot spring had its name changed back around 1929 after a Belgian man somehow found himself in the 182 degrees Fahrenheit (82c) waters that claimed his life. This hot spring is now known as the Belgian Pool.

We’ll pay a million dollars for a work of modern art using this motif while a parent walking by will not flinch as their teen son spits into a hot spring, such class!

If you knew where this was you’d know what comes next.

Morning Glory Pool it is.

Firehole Lake Drive was our next stop on this adventure. The park is packed, jam-packed. The parking lots are overflowing, but maybe because you can’t see much of this drive from the main road, there weren’t many people turning to investigate the area, so we chose to go here instead of fighting with the lines to other basins. This is Firehole Spring.

The Great Fountain Geyser was not living up to its name while we were here, and we weren’t prepared to wait for 6 to 10 hours for it to possibly erupt, so here’s a shot of it in its elegant dormant state rung by orange pools.

Why is this fallen tree in this pool? Maybe it was here first, and water started bubbling out of a nearby hole, washing away the thin soil the tree was holding onto, and now, instead of the tree standing tall over the landscape, it is slowly disintegrating as it’s absorbed while death removes its existence.

White-footed trees are a feature here in the park as the highly mineralized waters are absorbed by the plant life. I would have liked to share the image of these trees on an early cold morning when steam is rising from the grasses, bringing yet more mystery to the landscape of Yellowstone.

The waters are flowing out of Black Warrior Lake, which is fed by Firehole Lake, this drive’s namesake. The combined waters of the two lakes feed into Hot Lake, which is then carried via Tangled Creek over to the Firehole River, and if I’m not figuring this wrong, they finally flow into the Missouri River.

Wait a second while I contemplate the merits of being moss, growing on an old tree, never paying rent or taxes, bargaining for fresh water, and needing to visit a grocery store for food. While my lifespan might only be 2 to 10 years, I’d have the exquisite fortune of living naked in a place no one can otherwise afford to live in.

If I were moss I’d be looking at the mating grounds of my parents because water is where the male and female reproductive cells meet to create. How moss ends up on trees and rocks, though, is a mystery worth maintaining. I think I’ll go with the idea that they are in contact with aliens who teleport them to places that would be comfy for moss to grow and enjoy the view, reporting back to their alien overlords what they are seeing on this planet.

Up Firehole Canyon past the waterfalls and cascades.

Upper Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming

And then back to the Upper Geyser Basin for sunset…

Upper Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming

…bubbling water…

Upper Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming

…some small eruptions…

Upper Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming

…reflections of the late day sun…

Upper Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming

…topped off with glistening water spilling over bacteria mats.

Upper Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming

Of course, this doesn’t all end with the setting sun, as I have plenty of photographs to work on and a need to try capturing some notes that can be turned into a full blog entry. I’d like to point out since I mentioned notes: compared to Germany, where I was writing each blog as I went along, my daughter and I on this adventure are just too busy exploring or driving to find enough time to stay current with each day. On to the next day.

Number 9 of 20

Trip 9: We are now booked for a rather short 5-day visit at Yellowstone National Park with reservations in hand for Old Faithful Inn during May 2020.  I even called ahead to have a note put on our reservation asking for room #225 we’ve stayed in on nearly half a dozen of our visits. To date, we have spent 36 days spread between 8 trips here at Yellowstone; this visit will push us to 41 total days. You can bet I’m already thinking about a winter return, possibly as early as Christmas 2020.

Update: This trip was canceled due to the COVID-19 pandemic.

Caroline Wise and John Wise in Yellowstone Jan 2010

Trip 8: The next time these two faces are seen in Yellowstone National Park, it will have been ten years since we were last in the park and 20 years since we made our first visit back in May 2000. This photo was taken on January 22, 2010, during our second winter visit to the first national park on Earth. This indulgence of being able to visit two winters in a row afforded us another eight days here. That ice-cream-colored beanie was hand-spun and knitted by the woman on my right, and I chose the colorway. I felt it made a bold statement.

Yellowstone Jan 2009

Trip 7: Our first winter visit to Yellowstone was for nine days, split between Mammoth Hot Springs and Old Faithful Snow Lodge. We thought the park was going to be enchanting, but we never could have anticipated just how astonishing the place is during winter. There’s a fraction of the number of people who visit during the summer, and the quiet and serenity that accompanies this time of year cannot be understated. We arrived on January 10th, 2009, in time to celebrate our 15th wedding anniversary here in Yellowstone.

Canary Spring in Yellowstone July 2007

Trip 6: Four days over the long 4th of July weekend back in 2007 was enough to refresh our memories of how beautiful Yellowstone Park is.

Yellowstone Hot Spring May 2005

Trip 5: Only two days were spent in Yellowstone back in May 2005. My mother-in-law, Jutta Engelhardt, is with us again five years after her first visit to Yellowstone, this time in the spring instead of late fall.

Bison in Yellowstone May 2004

Trip 4: It’s May 2004, and we are with our friend Jay Patel on a cross-country road trip that wouldn’t have been complete without a stop in Yellowstone. Over the course of three days in the area, we spent a great deal of time exploring the geysers, mud pots, and wildlife. While you can’t tell from this photo, we also had plenty of snow to make snowmen and snow angels in.

Old Faithful Inn Yellowstone July 2003

Trip 3: Our only 1-day visit to Yellowstone occurred on July 6, 2003, after being away from the park for three years. We were on our way south after visiting Glacier National Park on the long 4th of July weekend.

Jutta Engelhardt and Caroline Wise in Yellowstone 2000

Trip 2: Under the guise of bringing Caroline’s mother, Jutta Engelhardt, over to see Yellowstone (because I’m that kind of selfless husband and son-in-law), I was able to convince my beautiful wife of the importance of making a second visit to this corner of Wyoming in the same year. Truth is, I would have sold Jutta to any bidder for the opportunity to visit again, as I couldn’t get our first visit out of my head. This is during October 2000, the closing days of the park. We spent five days on this visit.

Caroline Wise and John Wise in Yellowstone 2000

Trip 1: Our very first visit to Yellowstone National Park with our friends Ruby and Axel Rieke started on May 14th, 2000. While we had reserved a room for four days, I could have stayed for months. I was smitten with Yellowstone all summer long and schemed to figure out how to justify coming back sooner rather than later. Never in my wildest dreams could I have ever imagined that within 20 years, we’d be making our 9th visit and that we would be able to visit the park during all seasons.

A Yellowstone Poem

Cold snowy morning on the Upper Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park from January 2009

How fortunate are we to be here today, a day of a Yellowstone winter

While so many men and women are working so hard to secure their fortunes here on Earth.

Give me not a brick mansion here on Earth

for they are always in need of repair – and an owner to repair them.

Give me instead a large beautiful field such as this one, bounded by mountains and pines.

Give me a river long and clear with rising trout.

Give me a hot spring with its rainbows of steam and a geyser of fireworks so grand!

Give me, if possible, a river otter sliding with abandon on a frozen windswept riverbank.

Give me these things, and my fortune I have.

Because Yellowstone is my mansion on Earth.

This poem was recited to Caroline and me towards the end of our time at Mammoth Hot Springs in Yellowstone National Park. Tyrene is the author and was our guide for the Wake Up To Wildlife tour, our Norris Geyser Basin tour, and our ride north to the Upper Geyser Basin and Old Faithful. After returning to Phoenix we contacted Tyrene to ask her to send us the poem and if we could have permission to print it as it struck a chord with the two of us. This wonderful guide was also with us the previous year for two legs of our first winter adventure in Yellowstone. Thanks, Tyrene.

Yellowstone – Day 8

Twilight the morning of our departure from Mammoth Hot Springs in Yellowstone National Park January 2010

It’s now 8:30; an hour ago, I was outside watching the dawn arrive. The beginning of the day looked promising, with some thin clouds stained with a faint magenta and red against a clear sky, grabbing the first light. Now we sit in the Map Room here at Mammoth Hot Springs, awaiting this minute. The coach has pulled up, but we’ll sit here until the last second until the driver enters the building. The heaviness of leaving weighs down my ability to spring into action and deliver our bags to the curb.

Leaving via the north entrance of Yellowstone National Park January 2010

In five minutes, we will pass through the Roosevelt Gate at the northern entrance of Yellowstone National Park, bringing an end to our physical presence in the park, but Yellowstone is firmly entrenched within us. We leave silently, kicking and screaming.

Roosevelt Arch at the north entrance of Yellowstone National Park January 2010

A sad goodbye with a tearful but joyous heart breaks with the landscape as we try to drag our little piece of experience we have gleaned from Yellowstone. As we depart, we should recognize the efforts that have gone into making this a worldwide loved destination, starting with John Colter, who first told the stories of this magical place from his visit during the winter of 1807-1808 and inspired others to follow; Nathaniel Pitt Langford who, following the Washburn Expedition of 1870 and his own written experiences of his encounter with Yellowstone, went on to lecture across America and finally lobbied Congress for the legislation to make Yellowstone our first National Park; President Ulysses S. Grant who signed the bill into law that created this National Park on March 1, 1872, the Interior Department, the National Park Service, and all of our tax dollars that work to preserve this corner of America.

On U.S. 89 in Montana driving north out of Yellowstone National Park January 2010

U.S. Route 89 north takes us further away, and for the first time in more than a week, we are traveling faster than 25 miles per hour. We pass Gardiner, Chico Hot Springs, Emigrant, Pray, and Pine Creek. In Livingston, we join Interstate 90 going west. Our destination, the Bozeman Airport, is approached in a minute, and not a minute later, we are unloaded and in the terminal – the convenience of small airports. We were able to grab an earlier flight still leaving enough time for a quick lunch.

Somewhere over the western United States looking down from an airplane flying south in January 2010

Over America. In America. How lucky we are to know this country firsthand. During the past twelve months, Caroline and I have driven the Skyline Drive through the Shenandoah National Park in Virginia and visited Jamestown and Williamsburg. Toured the Whitehouse, Mount Vernon, and Monticello. In Washington, D.C., we finally made it to the top of the Washington Monument; we visited the Smithsonian Museum of the American Indian, took a tour of the U.S. Capitol, and a nighttime tour of the U.S. Naval Observatory. In New York City, over two visits, we walked through Central Park, Wall Street, Little Italy, China Town, and Greenwich Village, crossed the Brooklyn Bridge, and went to the top of the Empire State Building – we also stood in the crown of the Statue of Liberty. We rode the Maid of the Mist in Niagara Falls and an Amish horse-drawn buggy in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. In Philadelphia, we visited Constitution Hall, the Liberty Bell, and the home of Edgar Allen Poe. In Baltimore, we toured Fort McHenry, where the original Stars & Stripes once flew, which inspired the Star-Spangled Banner. Historic Gettysburg was easy to fall in love with. A year without the Grand Canyon wouldn’t have been a good year. Old Route 66 with a return to Oatman, Arizona, and the wild donkeys was great. In California, we ate at the Fish Market in San Pedro; on another visit, we had fun at Disneyland and caught a movie in Hollywood. The fourth of July was spent riding the Cumbres Toltec Steam Train with one of the best fireworks shows ever right there in Chama, New Mexico. In Florida, we strode through the Everglades, kayaked the Keys, and camped on the remote Dry Tortugas. And now Yellowstone. To see and know America, one must get out of the clouds, put oneself on the trail and small roads, gaze up to the heights of the mountains, look out on the horizon of the seas, feel the wind blow on the Great Plains, get lost looking into a canyon, and spend time getting to know this land so few take the time to see and experience.

Yellowstone – Day 7

John Wise pulling Caroline Wise in a sled at Yellowstone National Park January 2010

Finally, fresh snow has made an appearance. Overnight, two to three inches of the wintery cover added to the packed base which has progressively gotten crunchier since our arrival a week ago. The overall weather was not what was expected or forecast; it has been warmer and sunnier than we had imagined, and the park employees would wish for. After all, it is winter in Yellowstone, and at this time of year, everything and everyone operates on the snow, not grass and asphalt. Today is our last day in the park.

The Firehole River looking west on the Upper Geyser Basin just north of Old Faithful Geyser in Yellowstone National Park January 2010

We are not in a hurry to do much of anything. With the new snow, we would have needed snowshoes to take the trail past Morning Glory Pool to Gem Pool and Pinto Spring, where last year we were amazed at bands of icy ribbons Caroline referred to as “ice bacon.” So, with Yaktrax stretched onto our boots we march out around Old Faithful to the bridge crossing the Firehole River.

Bison laying where they bedded down for the night on the Upper Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park January 2010

Turned out that had we been carrying the snowshoes with us, they wouldn’t have been put to much use anyway, as we got stuck behind the same herd of bison we had been watching yesterday. It was near Infant Geyser that we stopped to watch and photograph the snow-covered bison who were just beginning to move from their slumber. As they started to stir this early morning, they moved directly towards our trail and then up and over the boardwalk, stopping us in our tracks.

A snowy bison looking for a feeding spot on the Upper Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park January 2010

No matter, watching this small herd lazily stand up, stretch, and shake off sleep and snow while others raise their tails for a morning salute is immensely entertaining. We greatly appreciate our close encounter with these furry brown bison. As more of the herd disperses from the close-knit sleeping grounds, some are heading for the edge of the forest; others are walking over the boardwalk, and a few more pass over a hot spring, pausing to warm themselves in the steam washing over their thick coats and up large dark nostrils.

Bison foraging for food on the Upper Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park January 2010

A bison walks out a few steps from the group and presses her head through the snow, swinging from side to side, making a clearing to look for still edible grass in her effort to break the fast. With snow less than a foot deep, her foraging attempt isn’t quite as impressive as the large male we had seen on the Lonestar Geyser trail last year as he stood in snow reaching up to the bottom of his chin, his head disappearing in the deep powder on his hunt for food.

Snow dusted bison walking over the Upper Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park January 2010

Stragglers slowly rise from their snowy beds and bear down on us as we smartly back away. This is going to take a while. A park ranger who emerged from the forest near the boardwalk warns a man on the other side of the herd that he is too close and to move away. Three or four steps were not adequate, and the ranger admonished him to move further. The wait continues.

Doublet Pool on the Upper Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park January 2010

We have some hours to go before our snow coach arrives to spirit us back to Mammoth Hot Springs; turning around now would put us back at the hotel with little to do. We wait. Not that bison are not fascinating to watch, but after watching them awaken, shake, have a morning constitution, eat, meander, stand around, and indulge in a steam bath, we start to get antsy and want to walk about, too. The quiet Doublet Pool deserves to be gawked at; we oblige.

Close-up detail of Doublet Pool on the Upper Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park January 2010

The thumping and pulsing we heard and felt yesterday are not returning to Doublet. Waiting behind the bison, we have ample opportunity to trace the outline of the pool and note the colors. Some other people joined us at the bison jam, but their patience was not nearly as strong as ours; after ten or fifteen minutes, they turned and went back. We look at bison, look at Doublet, back to bison, back to the pool, look at the steam, look at bison, and so our routine plays out. As a light snow begins to fall, the sun at the same time is off again, on again trying to peek through clouds.

An injured bison looking into the camera on the Upper Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park January 2010

The last bison to get moving was a smaller one. Not a calf, but maybe a juvenile; then again, it may have been a smaller animal due to its serious injury. Its right front leg was broken, the hoof dangling just above the surface of land and snow below it. This tenacious bison stumbled over to join the herd, not able to put an ounce of weight on the damaged leg. She would move two or three steps, collect herself, and eke out a few more painful limping steps to move closer to the group that must be her family. Time paused while this poor creature inched along.

The Lion Group on the Upper Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park January 2010

Finally, a break, and we make tracks down onto the segment of the boardwalk that enters the edge of the forest alongside the Firehole River. We didn’t get far before we were startled by a bison hidden behind a tree just feet from the trail. For the next fifteen minutes, we wait patiently, but this bison seems to have found some tasty morsels and is content to linger. We are not and begin to cut a path into the forest on the other side of the trail through knee-deep snow, over and around fallen trees. At the point we are about to cut left, the bison starts to move towards the river, letting us backtrack through our steps and continue our way north on the boardwalk.

Sawmill Geyser erupting on the Upper Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park January 2010

Some of the trees are frosty; some have a new coating of snow that hasn’t yet blown off. The diamond dust we saw here last year was not to be found here this time We walk on, looking at nothing in particular and everything all at the same time. Northward, we go with the umpteenth stop at Sawmill Geyser to watch it erupt. Refusing to stand here an hour snapping another thousand photos, we satisfy ourselves with just a few minutes of ogling.

Close-up detail of the empty pool at Spasmodic Geyser on the Upper Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park January 2010

Spasmodic is quiet again today. That does not imply anything less than amazing, though. The ever-changing dynamic landscape of evolving art is like a constant transitioning painting being created for the observer instant by instant, with flairs of water and steam rippling forward only to be drawn away, revealing the canvas, which itself is only another layer upon a deeper canvas. The entire panorama is alive, contorted, and brilliant under a radiant sun, mysterious and elusive under a gray sky. Superficially, I may have understood the idea that Yellowstone will never appear the same between two visits, but it wasn’t until this visit that I truly began to appreciate how to discern that these differences can be observed from day to day, hour to hour, even minute to minute. How long does it take for us to see that Old Faithful is more than a geyser of water shooting into the sky on a somewhat predictable schedule? How long does it take a man or woman to see more than the pool of water or the color of a rock? Why are we so easily overwhelmed by the new and so slow to find reflection and appreciate unknown qualities that may lie just before us?

The empty pool of Oval Spring on the Upper Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park January 2010

Here is the empty Oval Spring with light puffs of steam rising from below. Would you stop to have a closer inspection? While erupting hissing thermal features surround you, does a gray, brown, and tan seemingly lifeless crater warrant your attention? What if this hole-in-the-ground was full of rapturous aqua waters frothing and gurgling with belching gasses, creating a column of water splaying the surroundings? Anyone would likely stop then, but I have to now. I want to understand how this drab vent has all the splendor to have been included in the magnificent display here in Yellowstone.

Close-up detail inside Oval Spring on the Upper Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park January 2010

Up close, through the steam, deep in the crater, a wall of damp bulbous rock growths is glistening, moistened by the steam and the occasional spurting water. Looking at the details of this spring, my eyes start to reveal the beauty that my impatience might have ignored otherwise. From the boardwalk, we are only offered a limited vantage point from which to capture the essence of the thing we would like to experience, the compromise a necessity brought on by humankind’s desire to destroy through carelessness or the collection of a souvenir or memento to take home. And still, with the knowledge of how this can bring ruin upon the world and its beauty around us, there are those who will throw coins, sticks, or other debris into these “things” that have taken hundreds of our lifespans to create and only the flick of a wrist to stop the rest of us from enjoying.

Bare roots of a tree partially covered in snow on the Upper Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park January 2010

On another side of the boardwalk, a tree with snow-covered gnarled bare roots plays second fiddle to the surrounding beauty. The patterns on display in nature’s museum shame the greatest of man’s museums, and yet only a fraction of the number of visitors will ever visit a national park in comparison to how many people will pay a visit to a climate-controlled building featuring the works of man and woman. Eight and a half million people will pass the Mona Lisa this year; I may be the only soul to recognize this root and find the art inherent in what Mother Nature has created for our delight.

Looking into Belgian Pool on the Upper Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park January 2010

Yesterday, the colors of the Belgian Pool were vibrant; today, they are muted under a gray sky. Without the sun to dance across its surface and illuminate the steam, stillness prevails, letting me see more. Sure, the colors of the pool in the sun are a spectacle we all desire to have captured in our photographs of this terrific place, but it is alone in this quiet, under a calm, overcast sky that contemplation and attention to detail are allowed to mount. From the angle I stood yesterday, the pool didn’t seem that deep; today, I find intrigue, not knowing to what depths this darkening blue center might descend.

Detail of bacteria mat on the Upper Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park January 2010

What is this? One thing is certain: we are looking at the surface below the water of either a geyser, a bacteria mat, or the edge of a hot spring. My memory fails me as to where precisely I was standing and what in particular I was looking at. Entranced, maybe I must have found this small detail just off the boardwalk, and while down on hands and knees, I became acquainted with this landscape of jutting mountains, deep crevasses, and precipitous cliffs.

Green plants next to red dormant grasses on a hot spring on the Upper Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park January 2010

Winter, even amongst the freezing air and snow-covered earth, can be an illusion. Here, next to the seasonally dormant grasses, fresh green life clings to the edge of warmth and light in a bid to deny winter its grip on the environment. These contrasts in survival must be a part of that wonderment that propelled those early visitors from the Eastern United States to recognize the importance of such a place and then toil in their efforts to help create the world’s first National Park.

Daisy Geyser erupting in the distance on the Upper Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park January 2010

Thar she blows! Daisy is a spoutin’, gone and blown her top. Two days ago, we waited patiently, if waiting fifteen minutes could be considered patient, for Daisy to erupt – we moved on. From afar today, we look west to see the geyser going full steam ahead. Even if we were to put our butts into run-for-it mode right now, we would not arrive geyser side for an up-close view of Daisy’s majesty, and so we pause to enjoy it from where we stand.

A coyote on the Upper Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park January 2010

We race by Grotto; nature is summoning Caroline to take care of business. Also racing by is a coyote. The lucky coyote only needs to raise a leg or squat with nary a care as to who might be witnessing this necessity; then again, the lucky coyote doesn’t require the doffing of four layers of protective clothing to expose the essentials required for finding relief. In an instant, the coyote was out of view, going in the same direction we were traveling; maybe our paths would cross again.

Trees, snow, water, and steam next to the boardwalk on the Upper Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park January 2010

Steam and grass, water and snow, ice and mud, hoof prints and bird calls, all of this in one place. I want to return in spring, in summer, in fall; I want to be here every day to see how it all changes. I need to capture the rising and descending water, the turning of plants from brown to green, the migration of birds, the explosion of colors, and their subsequent fading to prove to everyone that the earth is indeed alive and is a master of creation, architecture, and building greater than the all of the combined efforts of us puny little people. Where has our sense of awe gone that our daily actions don’t reflect our compassion for preserving a planet that gives us all that we so irresponsibly take from it without offering every concession possible to allow it to remain healthy and intact?

Caroline Wise and John Wise in front of Morning Glory Pool on the Upper Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park January 2010

It’s 11:47, tea time. Once again, we are at Morning Glory, and as it has been on other visits, this is the turnaround point and, in effect, the end of our visit to Yellowstone. From here, we begin our goodbyes. We are no longer traveling into but away from. We raise our cup of hot tea and toast Yellowstone. A little bit of sun pokes through as the wind whips snow from the trees. Words fail to describe the immensity and totality of the experience once one has been immersed in Yellowstone for a goodly period of time. The landscape and its components become a singular whole, with each individual element being an obvious part of a larger body. Only because we are so tiny ourselves are we able to witness the finery and details we look at and pretend to understand. Each part is like a cell that, when grouped together, forms an organ, but looking from afar at the individual element, can we understand its role? The organ that is Yellowstone is too complex, too large to come to an appreciable understanding of just what it is and how its myriad pieces fit together in a week, a month, or a year. That this park delivers such extraordinary experiences is part of the draw that brings those of us back who have been here before. We become two more pieces of the puzzle, with a sense that our small part must be filled, and for a short time, we, too, can and must be a part of Yellowstone.

Section of Riverside Geyser on the Upper Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park January 2010

We deviate from the trail returning us to the Snow Lodge, veering onto Riverside Drive. A pool is overflowing, spilling into the Firehole River. This pool is bubbling with a few small eruptions, only reaching heights of six or seven inches, but these are signs that Riverside Geyser is likely to erupt within the next 90 minutes. Yet nearly a half hour passes and the activity, while not constant, remains as it was, never becoming a full eruption. With less than an hour before check-in for our snow coach, it is now time to beat feet.

Grotto Geyser erupting on a snowy sunny moment on the Upper Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park January 2010

Just because we are leaving doesn’t mean we don’t have time to enjoy a sight or two. Earlier, we had skipped by Grotto; now, as we were walking by some sun and blue sky bringing cheer to these moments, we attempted to draw out of the sadness of the end of an incredible trip. Someone might ask, why don’t you make an effort to spend more time here, to work here, to live within the borders of Yellowstone? Is there a job title describing one who sits and stares at nature for months and years on end and who is not an accomplished author or photographer? Is it even possible to write tomes on a mind-ascending beauty with no regard for a thread of story besides the journey of recognition of the aesthetics of the natural world?

Warm water and snow on the Upper Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park January 2010

Wouldn’t you know it – another bison jam? Our herd from up the hill moved its way west and is presently crossing the bicycle path, our only short distance and expedient path to the Snow Lodge. Backtracking to cut a return passing Beehive Geyser might make us late. We need a lifesaver. And it is delivered by a Matt-Track vehicle whose approach scurries the bison forward while part of the herd is yet to jump over the stream to cross the bicycle path – we break for it, oh no, so is a bison, we run, it lumbers, but it’s big and heavy so we allow fear to propel us out of its way. Out of the wind and out of harm’s way, we are soon in front of the shuttered Old Faithful Inn, its big red door closed for the season. Its presence is ghostly with the echoes of summer and the shadow of crowds in the foyer spilling out of the sealed namesake of the geyser it was built next to. Walking by I can’t help but see Jack Nicholson opening the doors and inviting us in for a private winter tour.

Clepsydra Geyser erupting in the afternoon on the Lower Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park January 2010

And it’s done. Our bags are about to be loaded on the Prinoth, and us on a snow coach bound for Mammoth. Dipper Darla will be our driver and guide for the four-hour, fifty-mile ride north. Passing Black Sand Basin, Biscuit, and Midway Basin with its Grand Prismatic until we reach the Lower Geyser Basin Thermal area, the Fountain Group to be precise, also known as the Fountain Paint Pots. A thirty-minute speed tour over the boardwalk feels like a fifteen-minute blur. We barely have a minute to appreciate Clepsydra Geyser, the geyser that never stops erupting – almost never.

Mud pots at Fountain Paint Pots on the Lower Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park January 2010

A peek into the mud pots and Silex Spring and Darla get us to pile back into the snow coach. Twenty minutes later we take a short break at Madison Junction. Unceremoniously, we dart past Norris Geyser Basin, Roaring Mountain, Obsidian Cliff, and more until we reach Swan Lake Flat in the dark. We did stop momentarily on the way for a sighting of a bald eagle. We pulled over, slowing down as we passed Gibbon Falls, but we did stop a few times to spot Dippers. The American Dipper is a small dark gray aquatic bird that survives Yellowstone’s harsh winter by diving and feeding in the rich, warm waters of the Yellowstone River system. Darla loves these birds so much she has been christened Dipper Darla.

Silex Spring on the Lower Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park January 2010

Bunsen and Electric Peaks are not to be seen in the dark. We pass the Golden Gate knowing so only because we are told. In front of the Mammoth Hotel, we stretch tired limbs and hobble to our room to deposit our bags before stuffing ourselves at the Mammoth Dining Room. What we ate wasn’t spectacular; it hardly registers, but the dessert of Apple Gallete ala Mode could be considered a primary factor in returning. For all I know, this sweet treat is a frozen toaster pasty, but after a long cold day, it does fill a certain spot. [The photo above is Silex Spring.]

The blurred and spotted view out the window of a snow coach in Yellowstone National Park January 2010

A short break before collecting the key to the hot tub for an hour-long basking in steaming waters topped with the cold night air. We look skyward at the stars while a light snow is blowing in from where we do not know. Music plays softly in the background, drifting in from the adjacent ice skating rink. The barren trees overhead and behind are illuminated by the lights of the ice rink, the hot tub light is blue, and a clock in the window of the cabin reminds us of the time. All too soon, the spa, the sight of the stars over Yellowstone, the smell of sulfur from the springs, geysers, and fumaroles, and our week-long vacation here will all come to an end for us and will probably be just getting started for someone else. We are finished packing and ready for sleep. In the morning, we will have breakfast and await H.A. Moore’s return to ferry us back to the Bozeman Airport. [The photo above is out the window of the snow coach; you see, it pays to leave your vehicle and explore this world around you.]