“Seek out the places where the world is simmering and no disappointment with life will survive.” – Old Sean
Entering the Geo-Realm
Yellowstone, America’s most notorious, famous and well-preserved national park is the name of the game, and the game is exploration. After days driving along the edges of the Rocky Mountains, my friends and I were ready to begin exploring one of the most venerated nature parks on Earth.
Krone, Evan and I woke up early to gather our gear with increasing speed and coordination, eager to get on the road once more. Krone opted for an early morning swim while Evan and I used the hotel meal vouchers to get free breakfasts in the hotel restaurant.
The décor was predictably rustic, with taxidermy pheasants, goats and crossed snowshoes sturdily bolted to the walls. The meal was fairly good, though we were charged for our drinks of juice and coffee.
It was at this point, we veered into Yellowstone. Lush pines stood pole straight around us, following the fringes of Madison River. A treat awaited us this morning as we drove. A pileup of parked cars indicated a creature of interest and we pulled aside to spot a handsome grey wolf stalking along the opposite side of Madison River, walking with a slight limp and keeping some nearby ducks very nervous with his patient, limber motions.
Boiling Waters
Good omen received, we continued deeper into the park, trying our luck to the south first.
Our first stop was the Lower Geyser Basin, where huge black crows kept careful visage over our heads. This was our first geothermal stop, and it was spectacular. The highly acidic water runoff cleared the forests of Yellowstone for miles, so endless white clouds of thermal activity billowed like chimneys into the air, visible in all directions.
Trees unfortunate enough to grow where the flow of water shifted were stripped of life, mere wooden poles propped against a blue sky. Wind often snatched away clouds, but when still, they dominated the skyline, outclassing trees with oddness and twisting motion.
The smell of eggs was prominent, but not as strong as I recalled from my childhood. Indeed, it smelled like a slightly strong hard-boiled egg rather than the cloying stench of rotten eggs from my memories. We walked along a well-worn boardwalk with great clumps of snow camped in the middle, stubbornly intact despite numerous footfalls atop them.
The Lower Basin water flowed from it’s thermal depths often, sometimes giving life to vibrantly orange and brown bacteria, but just as often stilling and cooling before being chilled into a thin, shifty blanket of frost.
Colors of Chemicals
Lower Yellowstone has some very unique geothermal points. The Fountain Paint Pot Area is a series of burbling mud pots that hiss and sputter audibly while burping small gouts of steam into the air.
Beautiful hot pools of deep greens and blues hang onto the low edges of the flat ground and Great Fountain Geyser fired into the air as we walked past, spattering us with a supremely fine rain which caused me to hunch and protect my camera’s lens. Lower Basin provided the widest range of thermal activities in Yellowstone, but it was Middle Basin which would awe in different ways.
Midway Geyser Basin is home to the Grand Prismatic Spring, a bulging portion of strained ground letting loose a massive pillar of steam that blocks even the sun at the proper angles.
We were forced to cross a bridge to draw near and the geyser water bled into the river as we strode, leaving a rustic trail of string-like bacteria to decorate the cliffs.
The patterns in the ground here are astounding and almost impossible to accurately describe as they supposedly shift from season to season.
There are bright rivers of bacteria, a grand bowl of ever building steam (Excelsior Geyser) and also jagged cliffs that house tiny pools of crystal blue water (Turquoise and Opal Pools).
The ground is a patchwork of black lines spiderwebbing outwards, and the curvature of the ground gives the impression of a taunt, nearly snapped bowstring. My favorite part was the clear bison footprints impressed into the delicate bacteria below, as the behemoths likely strode across the impossible pools.
Riot Colors
From here, we tried our luck at Upper Geyser Basin, only to be shocked again. The most concentrated group of geysers on the planet, Yellowstone’s Upper Geyser Basin provided a short boardwalk crossing over geo-thermal rivers to see Biscuit Basin.
The colors here were more unreal than elsewhere, with pools tinged unearthly hues of shifting blue, yellow and red edges. We stepped off the boardwalk to follow a wooded trail, but dense snow and deep mud along with a lack of signage and directions veered us back towards our car.
In the Little Firehole River beneath us, we spotted perfectly camouflaged fish flip out of the water before darting downwards again and an enormous patch of swaying algae in the shape of a vibrantly green valentine heart.
Bursting Clock
Our next goal was the prime attraction herself. When in Paris, there’s the Eiffel Tower. In Rome, the Colosseum. In Moscow, the Kremlin. And Yellowstone showcases above all, Old Faithful.
We veered into the parking lot a miniscule moment too late. Water was already blasting in a white explosion into the air, with mist drifting away on the wind. Though we caught the tail end, we opted to stay and wait until the next eruption, a mere ninety one minutes later.
Killing time effectively, Krone, Evan and I hunted down bathrooms, enjoyed short walks and got our lunch at Geyser Grill, since the vast majority of other shops in the area were temporarily closed due to COVID. Our meal was grand and another proud crow watched over us here, eyeing our fries hopefully.
We also stopped at the next door gift shop, where I met my newest and most devastating enemy: Huckleberry Chocolate. Delicious, expensive and served in bars thick enough to be bricks, I regressed upon whatever fitness I had gained hiking around Yellowstone.
This vanished from my mind quickly, however, as I found myself seated on the northern edge of Old Faithful awaiting eruption.
COVID and cold made crowds sparse, and I was treated to my first-ever front row seat to the spectacle. Moments later, the water came to life, soaring high in a lopsided plume. My group slammed the shutter button on our phones and camera until finally, it was over and we joined the exodus leaving.
A single chipmunk darted out form under the boardwalk to pose for a photo and watch our departure.
Limited Loop
At this point, we were introduced to our flaw of arriving in Yellowstone in April. The Eastern portion of the park was effectively locked off, shuttered by the cruel and deep conditions of mountain-north winters. Unable to push to Yellowstone Lake, we spun around and forged on towards Mammoth Hot Springs.
Here, Evan took over driving and I quickly found myself nodded off, despite truly valiant attempts to maintain consciousness. Fortunately, my sleep was brief as Evan awoke me with a stop at Gibbon Falls, a vertical delta tumbling down deep black stone with the broken trunks of once-mighty trees strewn across it’s receded banks. Deep snow crested the parking lot, and Krone’s knees vanished into the drifts with each laughing step.
The dense woods of southern Yellowstone gradually broke, giving way to vast planes with curves of forest hemming them in.
Mountains were rolling tops and we paused to see the tiny herds of buffalo appearing on the horizon. We also spotted a flock of about six sandhill cranes on a distant flat, interspaced with a single, unstealthily coyote that caused them to stalk about awkwardly. We shared my monoscope and Evan’s binoculars to watch the anticlimactic hunting dance.
Corners of the Wildlands
Our next stop was somewhat unintentional, but we paused to stretch our legs once more at Norris Geyser Basin, specifically seeking out the rare explosion of the Steamboat Geyser, the tallest on the planet.
Norris is a wild place. Yellowstone’s oldest, hottest and most volatile geyser area is characterized by dramatic slopes, tall trees and sharp, desolate plains of thermal activity.
The pools here are a pale, almost gauzy-blind blue, with trickles of steam spiraling on their low surfaces. The boardwalk was surprisingly treacherous due to snow mounds in the center and the thermal bacteria was more abundant here than anywhere else in the park.
We continued north through snow, trees, plains and mountains, essentially tapped out on geothermal activity sightseeing for the day, finally reaching Mammoth Hot Springs.
Mammoth Hot Springs is a real treat. A small, brick and motor village on a broad geothermal field, Mammoth hosts a large and extremely photo-friendly herd of buffalo. We spotted two calves amongst the herd before driving to our final, hope-laden destination. More mule deer, appearing in ever-rising numbers walked fearlessly through the populated zone.
Luck Intent
It was at this point, I rolled my dice on our biggest gamble of the day.
Yellowstone is a series first-come, first-serve campsites. When I called the previous week, I was unable to book a campsite, so we were banking on COVID and winter to keep the hoards away, allowing us to snag a patch of ground to call home for the night.
Unholy luck held, and we nabbed the last of two remaining campsites, the last one being taken by a man immediately behind us. We rejoiced in our small patch of earth, a small rise overlooking the stupendous Mount Everts across from us.
So joyous was this news, we decided to celebrate by picking up a proper dinner from Gardiner, just outside the park limits.
Gardiner is a very nice town, with lots of wooden buildings and wholesome shops.
We were served well beyond our expectations at Gardiner Market, just out of Wyoming and built in Montana. Here, we gathered huckleberry honey as a gift to bring home, as well as beer for the night and four grand steaks to pan sear.
We also bought Moose Drool Beer and an IPA with more huckleberry in the brew. A cute cashier checked us out (financially, I mean) and we returned to our campsite, quickly frying up two dinners (one by chef Evan and the other by chef Krone) before realizing we had pitched out tent in the wrong place. Rather than trying to collapse our fabric home, we just hoisted it over our heads and carried it to the proper camping patch.
A Night in Yellowstone
That night, we had a fire roaring. Walking and prodding sticks were clasped in our hands and a brisk chill was chased off by the crackle of flames. The sky came to life as the sun vanished behind our backs (sunset wasn’t impressive tonight due to the mountains) and a full moon cast everything beyond our orange flames in silver gilt.
I turned in before my compatriots to wander and walk the next day, while they caught up on some much-earned rest. The following morning, I awoke before them to enjoy the quiet, frosty morning.
I left as the sun slowly crept up behind Mt. Everts, scuffling up foothills and generally making the enormous herd of mule deer below nervous.
I spotted two bald eagles wheeling in the distance on my hike, their white heads distinct when they flapped strenuously into the sunlight. I also briefly borrowed the car to climb the mountains to our south, in the hopes of catching a proper sunrise.
I was treated to a splendid sunrise and also saw the herd of buffalo from the night before, caked in frost and clustered around a thermal vent in Mammoth Hot Springs, shaking off the chill with great shaggy tosses of their heads.
The Steamswirls
It was then I roused my party, nudging them awake and packing. By now, our car had been tightly folded into an efficient use of space, and our gear was pressed snuggly against one another, with plenty of room for all passengers.
We started our morning at the Travertine Terraces. Water and limestone here creates chalk-pale travertine. Tall, staggered terraces rise swiftly with variations of colors reflecting the sunlight in endless glimmers. This is the most tumultuous geological feature in the park, as the pools here dry, form and shift yearly.
Back in our hardy Equinox, we darted East this time, wondering how far we could push ourselves before the snows of Yellowstone barred our way once more.
We stopped at Undine Falls before finally reaching a small hike at the Forces of the Northern Range. This short loop is composed entirely of fresh saplings from a fire a couple of decades back. Bison dotted the plains here in rand numbers and ground squirrels and chipmunks appeared along low ridges across the ground. The sounds of a red-headed woodpecker echoed through the tiny woods, only drowned out by the enormous crackle, crunch and bangs our feet made when stepping on loose ice. This was the lowest and driest point in Yellowstone, resulting in spectacular views of the mountains in every direction.
Frontier Corners
We continued East, stopping alongside a hoard of cars. Supposedly, there was a black bear cub hiding somewhere in the gully nearby. Indeed, we spotted perfectly formed trails of deep, bearlike footprints tracing up and down the sides of mountains, but we personally didn’t catch sight of the cuddly predator.
Instead, we wandered on, spotting buffalo herd after herd, eventually reaching Petrified Tree. An oddly geometric pattern crusted it’s surface and a perfectly emerald green butterfly fluttered around it’s side, despite the snow crusting the nearby ground.
We made one finally push to find Tower-Roosevelt closed, and finally, with a great sense of fulfillment, turned back west. We would soon exit the north side of the park and plunge into Montana.
Yellowstone treated us well, but back on the road, I expect further sights and adventures.
So until then,
Best regards and excellent trails,
Old Sean
Written April 22nd 2021
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The GoPro Hero Black is my go to Action camera. I’m not comfortable bringing my cell phone to many wet and rugged locations, so the GoPro does most of my photographic heavy-lifting. The only things I bring in my GoPro kit are the camera, a spare battery and the forehead mount. I upgrade my GoPro once every two years. It was particularly excellent to have during my aquatic tour of Belize.