Here we are, our last full day in Yellowstone, and eight days were not enough. While this was our longest visit to date, and we have spent twenty-seven glorious days in total here since our year 2000 trip with friends Ruby and Axel, there is never a feeling of having seen it all – even after seven journeys to the Yellowstone.
While worries about bears in the backcountry frighten the two of us, we still look forward to an upcoming return to America’s first national park that includes hiking and camping deep within the park, far from roads and even further from other tourists. Be forewarned prior to visiting Yellowstone: while I find this place the perfect get-a-way because of its isolation, for many, it will be too much of a burden to relax here as there are no TVs, cell phone reception is weak at best, and there is no wi-fi to receive precious emails. You will be alone with your imagination, and god forbid you should bring your children, for you just might have to engage them in conversation, or you may have to take them outside and try to explain the natural world to their eager minds. Unless, of course, you are one of those tourists who never get out of the car, and the DVD player in the back seat protects your children from seeing the ravages of the real, the natural, the great outdoors.
Note: The above-referenced hiking/camping trip never materialized.
For your information, those sexy hats were handmade by Caroline using some of her very first handspun yarns. Yeah, I chose my colors.
The sexy moss was made by nature with the colors chosen by her too.
As for the stars reflected in the snow, I have no explanation. Caroline insists it’s only glistening ice crystals; such a lack of imagination in that woman.
Off the mountain and briefly out of the clouds, we were soon riverside with heads back in the clouds or fog. Hey, it’s only semantics.
As I was reviewing the images to be included on this day, I had to reference the previous days to ensure I wasn’t duplicating my efforts. Then again, wherever there is overlap shouldn’t matter, as the shifting weather and time of day seem to render the landscape differently every time I look at it.
Escalopes of travertine cascade over the surface of the basin with water and earth hot enough that ice doesn’t form, snow cannot accumulate, and people shouldn’t walk.
The foot of snow on this bridge over the Firehole River disturbs my center of balance because it shifts us uncomfortably high over the railing as we cross over. This growing fear of heights is a foil I do not welcome.
Goodbye, Upper Geyser Basin; we must be traveling north.
Sadly, we’d have to take tracked vehicles as the bison we’d contracted weren’t budging due to some labor protest or something.
Trying my best not to shoot thousands of photos here in our last hours.
I’ll be eating my words now as one of our two scheduled stops is at Fountain Paint Pots, and the other night, we would hardly see a thing.
We’ll not have visited West Thumb, Midway Geyser Basin, Artist Paint Pots, or Yellowstone Falls, but still, it feels like we’ve been nearly everywhere in the park.
The previous two photos were taken looking right into the namesake of the area, the Fountain Paint Pots.
While much is muted, hidden by steam and fog, or covered in frost and snow, there are splashes of color that are indistinguishable from the scenes of summer. This moss, for example, is vibrantly marching along while the snow and freezing air are never able to get close enough to diminish its presence.
This is our last view of the Fountain Paint Pots area for this year. Time to head back and continue our northward journey.
Well, we’ll continue until animals draw everyone’s attention, and we stop to fire off a few thousand shots with the hope of getting one decent image. This was the best I could get.
I had two other opportunities to photograph bald eagles during our stay, but those attempts failed. I present you with what is likely the best photo I’ve ever taken of this majestic raptor.
Jeez, this is turning out better than our tour of Lamar Valley; the only thing left now is to see a pack of wolves.
The Burning Bush of God told me I was asking too much and that I’d better scale back my expectations before his hand came down to smite me from ever enjoying another Yellowstone trip, ever!
As you might glean from the late afternoon sky, we’ll be arriving at Mammoth Hot Springs in the dark. Such is life, as this amazing adventure is now effectively over, but with these images and written impressions, hopefully, the experience will live with us for the next 1,000 years.
