Days 6-7: Yellowstone National Park

(Ed: Written on Sunday, May 31 in the car going to Glacier National Park.)

Yellowstone! Country of geysers, of wide sweeping plains filled with herds of bison, of spectacular waterfalls, craggy, snow-capped mountains, all sitting on the biggest volcanic caldera on the North American continent. The very name evokes ideas of untamed wilderness and adventure. We were worried that the park’s popularity would remove the sense of natural wonder we sought, but our fears turned out to be unfounded. The campgrounds were filled with people from all over the country, and maintained the right balance between satisfying tourism and preserving nature. Out on the trails though, we had our solitude: we were often the only people for miles around, only passing other hikers from time to time.

We arrived at Yellowstone near dusk on Thursday evening. Initially, I was sceptical: the trail in was a picturesque mountain road that led through snow-capped peaks and down forested valleys, but it hardly seemed different from the miles of the same before (too much natural beauty leaves one jaded, it seems).

My computer’s power adapter melted, and doesn’t plug into the computer anymore. Until we get into Seattle to get it replaced, I’m switching to pen and paper (Ed: which I’m now transcribing onto the computer), though these cheap pens can barely write anything.

Though we were not aware of it at the time, finding lodging would be a long and annoying task. It took us nearly an hour to get from the eastern entrance to Norris, our intended campground. Though we arrived at the gate before sunset, it was almost pitch-black by the time we got to Norris. It was then we discovered that Norris was already full. We doubled back in the dark to another campground, Canyon, where there was a lodge. That was closed, but the helpful staff directed us to a hotel near Lake, which was near the entrance we had originally come from. We drove there, and exhausted trooped into the hotel. At first, we were told that there was a cabin available, but when they sent someone to check, it was already occupied, so we were placed in a more expensive hotel room.

Our Yellowstone experience improved after that first night. We slept in Friday morning (having gotten up at the crack of dawn every day so far), and ate a leisurely breakfast overlooking Lake Yellowstone. I had a pleasant chat with Wayne, a biker from Colorado. It was encouraging that despite our differences in age, experiences and political opinions, we still found it possible to understand each other’s viewpoints.

After breakfast, we drove over to the visitor’s center at Old Faithful to find so day hikes for our visit. Andrew made a campground reservation (since we had no desire to repeat the experience of the previous night), while we asked the very helpful park rangers for recommendations. Since we had just missed one of Old Faithful’s eruptions, we visited Geyser Hill, just over the river, to wait for the next one. Just across the river from Old Faithful, were a dozen other smaller geysers, visible from a short network of wooden walkways. Some looked like little mounds pouring out steam and the smell of bad eggs. Others resembled little natural Jacuzzis, marked by all the hues of the rainbow.

Old Faithful was the only geyser we saw erupting. By the time we got back, crowds had already gathered in anticipation of the spectacle. We had seats near the less desirable end far from the visitor’s center, but it was still quite a sight. The eruption shot a plume of water high into the air. As the winds shifted, the crowd was drenched. I ran back and forth trying to get the best picture while dodging the spray.

That afternoon, we hiked the Fairy Falls trail. The wonders appeared as soon as we left the parking lot. From the car, we were greeted by a pair of small geysers and a herd of bison (including some very cute calves that alternated between nursing and running around the adults playfully). Walking onward, we passed a massive hot spring that spewed out blue and red steam, and then walked through a young spruce forest growing among the remains of dead trees. Some lay strewn about on the ground, while others still stood tall, but skeletal, giving a strange, eerie aura to the place.

A short hike later, the Fairy Falls themselves came into view. Rivulets of water cascaded down from a rocky outcrop, hundreds of feet above. We got right to the edge of the falls, standing in the pool at its base, cooling off in the spray. A little further, the trail followed a rust-stained stream of scalding hot water. We followed the stream to its source: Imperial Geyser, an impressive, azure and crimson pool gushing heated water prodigiously from its subterranean depths. This was the largest geyser we could walk right up to.

The rest of the trail was no less impressive. In a waterlogged wetland, the trail developed into a swampy stream, where our boots were filled with water. Fortunately, we were soon rescued by a trail of well-placed boards. Later, we moved onto the open prairie, with herds of bison grazing in the distance. We even came across the bony remains of a bison that had been torn to pieces. Only it’s skull remained intact, although we recognized some vertebrae and shoulder blades. This reminded us that the park was still teeming with wolves and bears, so we picked up the pace for the rest of the hike.

That evening, we camped out at Madison. We lit a campfire with scavenged firewood, and were comforted from the thought of passing bears by its warmth. The campground resembled nothing so much as a little village, with each little ground huddled around their own collection of picnic tables, campfires, cars and tents, but well in sight of everyone else.

The following morning, we drove over to the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone River. Despite the possibility of rain, we were determined to hike it. We started along the South Rim just a little downstream from the Lower Falls. We followed the trail as it rose and fell along the edge of an immense gorge, from one breathtaking viewpoint to another. The roar of the falls drowned out other noises, and the mist it kicked up created a beautiful rainbow. No less impressive was our view of the North Rim, etched with a reddish hue by long-extinct geyser flows. We passed Artist Point, a particularly gorgeous viewpoint with a specially-built platform for visitors to take pictures from. Since this was also the furthest point reachable by car, crowds of tourists milled about here.

We however, continued on the trail to Silver Cord Cascade. The trail dove inland, and we descended carefully, climbing over (and in one case, limboing under) fallen trees that blocked our path everywhere. Here too, the forest held the same mix of newly-grown spruce among an arboreal graveyard. We debated the cause, and couldn’t decide between some wasting tree disease or just fire. A dark cloud followed us, but we chose to push onward. Unfortunately, the Cascade itself proved to be disappointing. It’s flow was too small, so although we could hear it, and we could see the stream that fed it, we could not see the fall itself as it plummeted towards the Yellowstone River. We lunched briefly there, accompanied by a curious chipmunk (who evaded my attempts at photography). The weather made a turn for the worse, so we made our way back at double speed. We even skipped the scenic, but slower trek along the canyon’s edge between the parking lot and Artist Point, opting to take the road instead. Fortunately, we managed to avoid most of the rain, and it wasn’t until we were safely in the car before the rains really fell.

We were all a little beat at that point. I dosed off as Andrew drive us over to Mammoth Springs. We lunched at a little restaurant there, and then took a leisurely stroll up the hot springs. There, mineral deposits from the geyser waters had formed stair-like structures which resembled white marble. We pitched our tent at the neighbouring campground. Ricardo and I traipsed up a hill overlooking the camp, finding spectacular views from it’s summit. We could see the entire mountain range before us, looking well past the park’s edge and into Montana. We heard the howl of distant wolves, clearly contented by some discovery. The hill proved too steep to descend, so we made a long detour around the hills, back through the little settlement there, before getting back to the campground. That night, we cooked hot dogs on the campfire. We slept soundly that night (despite the fact that we were right next to a road), blissfully unaware that we had pitched out tent on the side of a hill. We would wake up the following morning, with all our sleeping bags crammed into the bottom half of the tent.

Pictures from the Badlands (and along the way) are visible at http://picasaweb.google.ca/lok.kin.yeung/Day4Badlands#

Yellowstone pictures can be seen at http://picasaweb.google.ca/lok.kin.yeung/Days57Yellowstone