Is it a bear, or a bison? No, it’s…!
Lower Falls from Artists Point, Yellowstone National Park
I drove in through the North Gate of Yellowstone National Park later than I’d hoped, but encountered smooth sailing and no traffic, much to my surprise and against every thing I had read.
I hadn’t planned this part as much as I’d wanted to, but I knew that the Artist Point area was beautiful in the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone, so I headed there, stopping along the way to admire the waterfalls and the Yellowstone River. Artists Point was named for artist Thomas Moran, whose painting of the Upper and Lower Falls in the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone was critical in inspiring the conservation of the area as a national park in 1872. The power of art helped sway congress to act! This place was awe inspiring indeed. Red, orang, and gold streaked cliffs dove hundreds of feet into the Yellowstone River with a view of the powerful Lower Falls through the canyon. I saw that the South Rim Trail went past both waterfalls and could loop by way of the Wapiti Trail back to Artists Point. But I hiked it backwards from what was charted on the trail guide, which would lead to dire consequences.
DO NOT HIKE ALONE. BEAR COUNTRY.
The trail began beautifully along the cliffs edge with stunning views of the falls. The trail was well populated and I got stuck behind a very large family hiking slowly. While I stopped to let them get a bit further away from me, I looked to my right and saw my first bison! He was huge and standing still as death in the trees just across the river. His profile looked like some ancient creature from another time, with wildly strange proportions not seen in animals of today. He made his way to the waters edge and moved so slowly, like an animatronic animal at Disneyland. He didn’t seem real, some machine put out by the park to impress the tourists. But he was living and breathing and beautiful. I continued on past rushing waters and scenic overlooks of both falls, until I crossed a road to get to the Wapiti trail and loop back around.
At the trail head was a map that looked similar to what I had seen before and I counted my turns to make sure I’d take the right loop. DO NOT HIKE ALONE said the signs. BEAR COUNTRY, CLAP YOUR HANDS AND TALK LOUDLY AS YOU WALK. DO NOT SURPRISE A BEAR. Well, I was alone but I was sure I’d meet people on the trail and I had my bear spray. I was told that if I was hiking alone I should sing to make my presence known to the animals in the region. So, on Cat Radio that day was endless loops of Carol King and the Carpenters.
As I hiked I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. There was nobody else on this trail. I was hiking through an open field and soon into a forest. WATCH FOR CLAW MARKS AND FRESH SCAT said the signs. I kept going, coming to the first intersection, then the second that I had counted before making the turn I believed was correct. But the signs were not as descriptive on this trail and I was not sure of my choices. After quite some time, when I should have already made it back to Artist Point, I realized the map scale was different than what I’d seen before and I had chosen a loop three times as long. I was deep in the back country.
The trees around me were missing bark right at bear level…were they scratches I saw, or something else? My mind easily saw claw marks on the trees. Grizzly bears have claws the length of human fingers and these marks were big. They seemed to not be fresh though. I began looking at all the scat I found with a fearful and critical eye. Could that be a bear? No, it’s too much…or is it? Grizzly bears can be nearly 9 feet tall when standing on their hind legs, and weight up to 600 lbs. “Well it’s too late, baby, yeah it’s too late, though we really did try and make it” I croaked out after hours of singing. My heart was racing but I still thought I could make it—until the trail seemed to melt away in front of me and behind me. Had I even been on a trail? When did it end? I pulled out my phone for the map I’d downloaded for offline use, and it was blank. I then started to panic.
My voice was giving out and I could no longer sing my presence, so I pulled out a whistle and began clapping as I nearly ran back the way I came. I eventually made it back to the second marker, that from the back looked like a wooden cross for an unmarked grave. Finally I saw a large French family coming down the trail and it was all I could do not to embrace them. ARE YOU SURE YOU’RE ON THE RIGHT TRAIL I nearly yelled, panic still in my voice. Dad pulled out a picture of the map, and I told him how the trail is not well worn, how there are bear signs, and how the scale is off. It would take them hours away from any other humans. He seemed confident to lead his family on to be bear food, so I bid them good luck and ran off to take the smaller loop. After a few minuets I looked back and they were behind me in the distance, having turned around, and were following me to safety.
I must have been a sight, whistling and clapping every few seconds, with my fanny pack, trucker hat, and Camel Pack; bear spray holstered at my hip and clutched in my sweaty palm. But I didn’t care. I was in survival mode since I was leading the pack. I came to a lake where three teens sat eating lunch. “We heard you coming! This is Clear Lake, and the water’s great!”. Oh so fancy free they were. Swimming and eating like there are no Grizzly bears around. Was I just paranoid?
Clear Lake, Yellowstone National Park
The French family caught up and stayed close behind me through the rest of the hike, and as we passed a huge lake covered in lily pads, bubbling mud pots and steam holes, they commented on how lovely this trail was, thanking me for my good advice. I rounded a corner and heard a sudden flurry of movement. Was it a bear? Or a bison!? No, it was just a very weird looking large ground bird running around like a loon. He would be the fiercest animal I would actually encounter on this trail.
Who can tell me what kind of bird this is?
We came back to a more civilized place that I recognized as the Grand Canyon Of The Yellowstone, and I have never been so happy to see a Canyon in my life. Beautiful spires of rose colored rock, streaked with orange and red, rose from the canyon floor and made for a majestic sight.
I did make it back to Artists Point alive, though a couple of hours later than anticipated. This threw off my plan to hit the more touristy vista points on the North Ridge, but I decided to drive down to Lake Yellowstone for a quick bite before making my way to Lamar Valley for sunset.
Mammoth Hot Springs
If you ever want to get up close and personal with a bison, go to Lamar Valley. They call it the Serengeti of the US and the best times for animal sightings are dawn and dusk. I think dawn must be the better bet, because at dusk I sat in a line of cars that stopped at every bison sighting. And since the bison were just walking on the road with their calves, my car was sometimes surrounded, inches away from these enormous creatures with the capacity to turn my car over if they so chose, and no way to drive on because one head car didn’t know how to navigate a bison jam. We did see a black bear and her cubs forge a river and then come right up on the road and run in between the swarm of people who had gotten out of their cars to watch her. Not one person got back in their car or backed away. This venture took hours of stop and go traffic. And though the bison were pretty amazing I didn’t want to get stuck out here after dark when the really wild animals come out. So I pulled a several point U-turn out of the stopped traffic and finally made my way back to the Mammoth Hotel.
Day 2: Upper Geyser Basin
The Upper Geyser Basin is home to the most predictable geysers in the world, including the tallest, at a possible 200 foot spray. Surprisingly it’s not Old Faithful, but Grand Geyser, which is less frequent but by all accounts more impressive. The predicted times for the days geyser eruptions go up at the Visitor Center at 8am, and there is limited cell service in the park, so it’s best to be there in person to plan your day. It so happened that Castle Geyser was set to go off at 9am (+/- 60m) and Grand was set to erupt at 9:45 (+/- 90min) and I was told to prioritize Grand if possible. But I was able to catch Castle in a mini eruption, Beehive in the distance, and Old Faithful at the same time and then book it to Grand for the waiting game.
Beehive Gyser
Castle Geyser
There are “indicators”, like bubbling in a pool on the right, that means it will be delayed. Behind me sat three old school geyser watchers, decked out in rain gear on a hot sunny morning, discussing their predictions for the timing of eruption. If Turban, a little indicator on the left, goes, there is a chance for Grand too, but if it doesn’t blow, the clock is reset to 20 min more of guaranteed waiting. The site is surrounded by white, dead trees, scalded day after day by the large spray field. In the distance, thunder rolled and lightening struck. The old pros started counting the time between strike and thunder to assess the danger. The storm system was blacking out the sun and seemed to be moving towards us. The temperature dropped dramatically, and the locals were getting restless. Three of them left, along with the ranger, the danger of being struck by lightening in this open field too great. “Make the best decision for yourselves.” She said as she rushed off. My new local friend stayed, insisting the storm would not reach us, and said it was going to be another 1.5 hour delay according to the indicators. But, he added, he could be wrong. So I decide to wait it out.
A nice German family traveling with their two very well behaved young children sat next to me reading the history of the region. I told them everything I had just learned about the geyser and what we were waiting for. And suddenly the rain clouds were upon us! I whipped out a plastic poncho I had gotten by chance a few days earlier, but my Germain friends weren’t so lucky, getting drenched in the sudden downpour. And then the sun was back, and suddenly Turban went, and then Grand erupted skyward from a lapping pool of water, spraying the pool all about in a giant column of steam and power. It did not seem reach 200 feet this time, but was still very impressive to everyone who had waited patiently for it’s performance.
Grand Geyser. Tallest predictable geyser int the world!
I then hiked around the basin, viewing gloriously colored white, green, turquoise and golden thermal pools, steam features, and geysers of all kinds. I looped back around just in time to get an up close view of Old Faithfuls eruption, happening every 90 min like clockwork, right in front of the Inn. The Old Faithful Inn was beautiful in ints own right. Built in 1904 and considered the largest log structure in the world, it’s multi story, log and stone, with a grand fireplace in the middle and several restaurants and general stores, plus an old school bar with beautiful etchings of animals getting into mischief.
I got lunch and chatted with a man from Montana because he had mentioned to a server that “Montanans and Californians don’t get along” so of course I had to engage. He told me that everybody hates Californians because they come and turn Montana and everywhere else into California, with high housing prices, and skyrocketing cost of living. I told him that many of us couldn’t afford to live there either, which is why we were looking for other options, and that many of us leaving were not California natives to begin with. He told me I better change my license plates on my car and tell people I’m from Hawaii, though he was really very nice. This kind of sentiment would be common through Montana and Wyoming, at multiple gas stations, and at the taco truck from a close talking drunk-as-a-skunk cowboy originally from the East Bay.
The Universe Provides, Again
I finished up and had grand plans to hike to the nearby Mystic Falls for a dip in a hot pot at the base of a waterfall warmed by thermal activity, and another hike to a great view of Grand Prismatic pool. But it was so damn hot, I couldn’t fathom another hike in the sun, so I decided to head down through the Grand Tetons to my llama farm in Wyoming. I had not planned the Tetons at all and my GPS totally gave out, so I was driving blind through what seemed to be the only road through the park. I decided to stop for provisions and saw a sign for swimming and beach access. YES! Just what I needed. I followed the signs and threw on a suit, making my way to a rocky shore with the jagged Tetons in the distance. I was slowly wading in when a sweet voice called, “Just dive in! It’s easier that way!” To my right floated three women, like nymphs in the water, smiling and beckoning me in. I dove as suggested and felt refreshed by the icy waters of Jackson Lake. “Baptism!” called the chuckling voices, so I swam over to introduce myself.
They were all working there seasonally and each was on her own adventure. One had a very familiar story: Her relationship ended, and with it her home and entire social scene, so she got a sprinter van and took to the road! We chatted van life and she promised to show me her home when we got out, which was amazing. One was a former ballerina with dreams of backpacking Europe. The other was a horse wrangler from Kentucky who had just climbed the highest peak, the Grand Teton! They gave me great suggestions for things to do in the area: hot springs, hikes, and they even invited me out to a night of music in Jackson. I felt full hearted and inspired upon heading out to my next stop.
Jackson Lake, Grand Tetons National Park
Llama, Llama, Llama
Wyoming is stunning, surrounded by breathtaking mountain ranges with expansive skies full of glorious clouds and sunsets to die for. My loft was the top of an old barn structure on the property with huge floor to ceiling windows showing both sunrise and sunset. Plus, a view of the male llama herd and all of their juvenile antics. My host had been farming llamas since 1983 and had made quite a life of it. She invited me to hike with her and her llamas as they trained for an upcoming job packing through the mountains, but I had to work. And then it was thunder and lightening storms for the next week, which was stunning in itself through my glass house, and rather welcomed after three national parks in three days!
