September 14-16, 2009
Once
again I entered Yellowstone from the south and this time I did stop
at Lewis Lake Campground, finding a nice secluded spot that suffered
some road noise but compensated with terrific mixed-forest visuals. I
went for a stroll down to an open forest across the narrow road from
the campground. While the campground was lush, the other side of the
street had burned extensively. I surmised that the firefighters of
1988 had used the road as a firebreak but I was unable to learn if
that was the case.
I found this post-fire forest more
attractive than the spindly unburned lodgepole pine stands lining so
much of the road through Yellowstone. Here, the tallest trees were
all dead, leaving a thin and scattered silver forest rising above
clumps of Christmas tree regrowth. Some live trees also stood tall,
having somehow evaded the flames while others around them perished.
Abundant deadfall littered the floor, slowly decomposing in the
marsh. The grass and the ground shrub were yellowing or going
pink-purple in autumn color. In the thick low fog, it looked like a
good place to find a grizzly or a moose. I was thinking I would
prefer a moose.
The
next morning I set off early to see Lewis Falls, hoping to beat the
crowds that are drawn to this small roadside pullout. I was far from
the only one there but the others were few enough not to undermine
the misty, mystical scene.
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| Lewis River |
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| Lewis Falls |
Finally I made the long drive out to for my first look at the park's premier attractions, the geyser basins around the Firehole River. I started with Midway Geyser Basin and the famed Grand Prismatic Spring, often the featured illustration for Yellowstone's hydrothermal world, and the cover of my main reference here, Windows Into the Earth, by Robert B. Smith and Lee J. Siegel. Alas these photos seem to all be taken from the air and much of the beauty is lost at ground level. The next most famous tenant is Excelsior Geyser Crater, which had recently been demoted from Geyser to Crater since it stopped erupting. Plus without a blue sky the pools were not their photogenic blue; Turquoise Pool was green and yellow.
Still of course I had a great time, focusing mostly on the colors and designs of the geyser runoff.
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Yellowstone began to fall in place for me that evening, cumulatively as it had in Yosemite. I was enjoying the light at one of the geysers and looked out beyond it to see the Firehole River aglow in golden blue and green, and I thought - yes, there are wolves out there, and grizzlies, and big waterfalls. It has a lot of layers. Then as soon as I pulled out onto the road, along the margin came lumbering an enormous bison, facing traffic like a conscientious pedestrian. I mean, you gotta' laugh.
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| Firehole River |
The
commute from Lewis Lake to the Firehole River was too long so the
next day I moved to the Madison Campground. The sites there were packed in
a little too tight for my tastes but the setting was spectacular, my
favorite in Yellowstone thus far. It was a lovely day. I wandered out
to the Firehole-Gibbon confluence amid evidence of the bison from the
day before. Lots of elk were about, including a bull and its harem,
and lots of people were getting way too close to them.
Back
at my campsite for lunch, I heard a dog bark, once, and then its
owner hush him. I glanced over in approval and saw the guy standing
in front of his pickup truck, his dog in the truck bed, and an
enormous bison 15 feet away from the truck scratching his head
against a tree between the truck and the rest room. Obviously this
was what the dog had barked at, and it had shown admirable restraint
in hushing with just one bark. I thought the guy was remarkably
nonchalant as well, immersed in tying his fishing fly, until I
realized he'd never looked up to see why his dog had barked. He was a
bit less cool once he did and saw how close he and particularly his
dog were to this giant bison. Then he yelped, scrambled into his
truck and quickly backed out of there. It was a pretty funny
scene.
I
came over to get a closer look but by the time I got there a ranger
pulled up and asked us to clear out. We’ve had one visitor gored
today already, he said, we don’t want another. So I retreated back
to the campground and swung around for this distant shot.
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| Just How Badly DO You Need to Go? |
Upper Geyser Basin
I spent the nest afternoon strolling around Upper Geyser Basin. It was a perfect afternoon for it, just cool enough, with lots of big white clouds for shade and structure. I caught a couple in action: Lion, complete with growl, and Castle.
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| The Lion |
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| The Castle |
The bacteria mats offered endless artistic possibilities.
Finally it was time to go hang about and wait for Old Faithful. I was surprised to find myself getting a little emotional, feeling I was taking part in a great tradition as opposed to a corny cliche. People come from far and wide to see Old Faithful erupt and now I had too. It was pretty cool. Old Faithful is really the symbolic star of a whole bigger show, and I felt a little sorry for the people who ran out of the hotel just to see the eruption. But I wasn’t that sorry. It's their life.
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| Old Faithful |
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| Old Faithful |
After dinner at the picnic area/dog walk it was time for Old Faithful again. This time I took a more sociological perch along the outer circle, listening to the cynical and the jaded, the defiant teens with their backs turned to the main attraction. A third of the crowd split before the eruption was fully over, just like the 10:15 mass at Our Lady of Lourdes.
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| Crowd and Old Faithful |
This fun afternoon slowly yielded a spectacular evening. By now I was feeling a bit jaded myself and very exhausted, but Yellowstone delivered. Not just Yellowstone but the Upper Geyser Basin, home to Old Faithful, a huge hotel, a smaller lodge, gift shops galore, and a parking lot fit for a football stadium. Don't call me a wilderness snob.
After another geyser loop and a more distant viewing of Old Faithful I went out for a slow wander. The sky had become overcast and a breeze was picking up, a possible thunderstorm in the air. I was feeling a bit desultory so when I came to a geyser - Daisy, maybe - with a scheduled eruption I hung around waiting with maybe a dozen others. The eruption was late but I wasn't all that interested in the geyser. A stunning setting was unfolding. Two distinct thunderheads were developing in the far corners of the basin. Geysers don't allow for much tree growth so they tend to be in open basins.
On the far horizon emerged a great cloud mass with a rainbow shooting out from under it, a rainbow that would defy the ephemeral nature of its kind and remain in place for the duration of the evening. In the opposite corner of the basin, more shielded by trees, a darker and more threatening cloud appeared, accompanied by ominous-sounding thunder. But the first flash of lightning I saw from the more distant rainbow cloud, it's thunder long delayed. The darker cloud responded with its own lightning and began to look like it would soon get us quite wet. This cloud had a bottom, and beneath it the sun emerged onto a largely overcast sky, casting a sparkling glow across the sintered landscape. The collective hope of the gathered crowd (well, I had to assume) was that the geyser would erupt in this window of sunlight but the geyser held off and waited until the sun dipped below the ridge before erupting in an angular burst. Anticlimactic as far as I was concerned, but then again I was realizing that geysers in themselves don't really impress me. Too steamy.
I do love dramatic landscapes though and the walk back at twilight was a real show-stopper. Both cloud masses were now filtering gorgeous light. Firehole River ran blue through amber grass. Assorted geysers did their thing dispersed aroung the basin like a carnival grounds, small groups attending each as if in their own worlds. I caught the tale end of the Castle, joining but one rapt witness in the surreal light.
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| Firehole River |
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| Old Faithful |
Quite a night. The only no-shows were the critters. Would a grizzly emerging from the woods have been too much to ask?
One could argue that what really delivered was not so much Yellowstone as the sky, and the sky could have been anywhere. Now there could be something about Yellowstone's position in a caldera along the continental divide that could generate the specific conditions for such skies - I'm just speculating. But even assuming these or similar conditions could exist elsewhere it brings me to my real point, that the value of Yellowstone National Park, the value of all parks making more or less natural areas accessible to people, is the very fact that they are public, we can go there, we can have things to do, even as a pretext, wander about and enjoy, so that we can be outdoors in a place where we can experience such wonderful shows.
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