Letting off some steam

So, you might wonder what it's like to be with the same three people for 24 hours for 27 days straight. Well, sometimes you have to vent a little.... 

But, if some of us got a little thin-skinned at times, it was nothing compared to earth's crust in Yellowstone, which was a cauldron of bubbling hot liquid, shooting and steaming through a volatile landscape. In places, it looked like we had entered an apocalyptic landscape, or perhaps another planet altogether:

We had been warned by our friends, the Reiserts (also experienced in family travel) about the pit of despair: we wondered, had we finally stumbled upon it?

The fantastic colors in some of the geological formations were actually tiny life forms called thermophiles that are giving scientists ideas about the possibility of life on other planets:

After a few days, though, we had our fill of fumaroles, hot springs, mud pots, and silicious sinter, not to mention the "eau de sulphur." We all needed to take a hike.

Living on the wild side

One of the most popular activities in the Tetons and Yellowstone is shooting wildlife--with a camera, that is.

Here's how it works.
You drive in your car along the designated highways (best at dawn or dusk) where there are open plains, or "flats." The National Park Service has provided convenient look-outs at regular intervals. A good indication that animals are in the region is a herd of humans armed with cameras at a lookout, or even just in the middle of the road. 

I saw an impressive array of animals this way: bison, elk, a pelican, pheasant, pronghorn deer, coyote etc. but after the excitement of seeing a few wild animals,  an uncomfortable feeling settled in. Why was I so intent on "capturing" these animals on film? And how wild were they if a city girl like me could get close enough to shoot them?

One time, we pulled into a parking lot and there was the tell-tale sign of a crowd. Sure enough, an elk with a big rack of antlers was feeding nearby. Soon a crowd appeared, and a disembodied voice came across a loud-speaker. GOOD MORNING AND WELCOME TO YELLOWSTONE PARK. PLEASE GET AWAY FROM THE ELK. 

Sheepishly, I retreated to the car. I was now officially part of the problem. A few moments later, I looked over across the sidewalk, and there was the elk, only a few yards away, licking a bicycle seat, right in front of our parking space. Now, he was fair game and I grabbed my chance to get in some shots:

In The Abstract Wild, Jack Turner, a philosopher turned mountaineer observes that our experience of the wild is becoming increasingly mediated: by guidebooks, photographic reproductions, our own cameras, and even the National Parks system itself! That prompted me to put down my camera, and just observe.
Indeed, my most satisfying encounter with animals turned out to be the ones that were accidental and unmediated. Like the time an elk surprised me in the woods and we just stared at each other for a few moments in mutual curiosity.


Truth be told, the animals in the park didn't seem all that wild, in the sense they were apparently unfazed by the presence of humans. And yet the photos above were taken only a stone's throw from the trail where a tourist was killed by a bear just a few weeks earlier. It begged the question, how wild was this wilderness? 

The prospect of encountering a bear was one possibility that did put the wild in wilderness, so I began to hope that we would actually see one, at least at a distance. When we finally did catch some bear, it was actually quite a gentle scene, at least from our perspective behind the binoculars. A baby cub had climbed a tree and its legs were dangling. Mama was waiting at the bottom. The cub made its way down, and then there were two cubs, both feeding and playing with Mama; tumbling and rolling...she was licking them with her gigantic tongue.

No, our wildest experience was not to be had in the company of bears.
Sick of the crowds at midday, we decided to try our luck at dawn and so we rose at 4:00 a.m. to look for wildlife in the Lamar Valley in the northeastern part of the park. At first, it was still so dark that we couldn't see anything beyond our headlights. Eventually as the horizon lightened, we were able to make out some hazy outlines including a gigantic four-legged creature lumbering towards us on the road. It was hard to even identify what kind of animal this in the morning haze. Could it be a bear? a grizzly even? Nope, bison. Alpha.

Suddenly we noticed about 200 pairs of eyes shining like an army of flashlights in front of us. We had stumbled into a herd crossing the road. This was both exhilarating and a bit disconcerting. After all, this was what we had come for, wasn't it? On the other hand, we had heard that more people are actually injured by bison each year than by bears. Bison can go from 0 to 60 in 5 seconds and can put their horns right through a car. And we were seriously outnumbered. The tidy park boundaries between observers and observed had been blurred. There was no question that the bison owned the road and there wasn't a whole lot we could do other than wait.

So, we watched the herd do what bison do--feed their young, call to each other, form lines and very slowly meander from one side of the road to the other. Eventually we gingerly made our way through the herd, with a new respect for the wild and our place in it.

Bar J Chuckwagon

We heard that you could have a real Western experience at the Bar J Chuckwagon in Moose, Wyoming, just west of Jackson Hole, so we decided to try it out. Who could resist a steak dinner plus a cowboy show for a mere $30? As it turns out we got our money's worth and much more....

The Bar J welcomed us with this oversized gate, which is a staple feature of ranch architecture,  perhaps symbolizing both the openness and hospitality of the West. The Bar J originally offered horseback rides to tourists, with a campfire dinner to follow. Turns out folks were more interested in the singing than the horses, so the family-run business morphed into a slick enterprise serving a quite edible meal to 700 guests in just 25 minutes. That alone was impressive!

The idea was to replicate a dinner ranchers might have had on the road (i.e. cooked on the chuckwagon). The menu consisted of beans (naturally), steak (they conceded chicken for the Easterners), biscuits, applesauce, and spice cake. 

As our host observed, no tossed salad! 

He also made a few trenchant observations about the politics (and economics) of raising beef cattle whereby the cattle are raised in Montana, fattened up in the East, sold back to the folks at the Bar J, who then sell it back to the Easterners on vacation, with prices rising considerably with each transaction. Touche!  

The dining hall doubled as an auditorium for the Bar J Wranglers, who would entertain us after dinner. 

The dinner was good, but the show was amazing! Turns out the Bar J Wranglers are part of a Western music family dynasty, with an impressive career performing with the likes of Roy Rogers and Randy Travis.  http://www.barjchuckwagon.com

They began with a poignant rendition of Home on the Range, complete with the closest harmonies you could ask for from a group of cowboys. They proceeded to regale the crowd with some amazing performances of authentic Western music, including a fret-tuning-trick that I had never heard before, and some very old cowboy songs. Their jokes were quite amusing too.

We had to leave the show early as it was getting dark, and it was a long way from Moose to our campsite at Lizard Creek.  As the poignant harmonies of the Wranglers echoed in our heads, we could see elk lurking like ghosts by the side of the road, and eventually darting in front of our car.

It was our first encounter with the wild night-life of the Tetons.

Grand Tetons

Everyone raves about the Grand Tetons, and we were utterly captivated by them too.  What is it exactly? They are rugged and unique in a way that is hard to describe. Here was our first glimpse:

 They don't enclose you like the rockies; rather, they lie in a line in front of you like a true mountain range, begging some to photograph and others to climb.

We were mostly in the former camp. Climbing these mountains demands more than a hike; it takes ropes and picks and techniques like rappelling. Still, we enjoyed the majestic beauty of this setting by seeking some elevation.

Even the name is mysterious; our Fodor's guidebook asserted that they were named by French fyr trappers who referred to them as "les Trois Teton" (Teton rhymes with Poupon), but the translation they offered was puzzling: Grand Beasts?

It was only later, when I began reading The Abstract Wild, by Jack Turner, a philosopher cum mountain guide, that I realized that Fodor's must have let a typo go by....what a difference an "r" makes

We arrived at Dornan's and got our first taste of Western kamp--Dornan's, a family-run restaurant offered a chuckwagon dinner experience in the shadow of the Tetons, with a tipi thrown in for good measure!

We opted instead for pizza, which got us closer to the mountains: 

Jackson Hole was hopping, even though it's really more famous as a ski resort. can you see why?

When we checked into our hotel, the Elk Lodge, I felt quite at home amongst the bear and moose decor; I could have been browsing in the  Maine Made Shop. They do love their antlers in Jackson Hole: 

But you don't find saloons like this in Maine....

As we travelled north to our campsite on Lizard Creek, we were continually amazed by the breathtaking views and tranquility of the Tetons. Neither my camera nor my photographic skills can do it justice, but here's a taste:

Rocky Mountain High

After two days of strenuous hiking, we decided to take it easy and drive the spectacular Trail Ridge Road, which runs through the high peaks of the Rockies through the Continental Divide.

We were on top of the world at the nexus of east and west.

As we climbed higher the temperature dropped about 20 degrees. We noticed the rise in altitude in other ways too, as we got short of breath when walking around at the spectacular lookout points. 

Soon, we were above the tree line.....

This landscape looked like nothing I'd seen before. Apparently every 1,000 feet of elevation we gained, was equivalent to driving 600 miles north, so it was like taking a short cut to the north pole.

Though it doesn't look very hospitable, the Rocky Mountain tundra is home to quite a few species, including the yellow-bellied marmot, a member of the weasel family

and many elk, some of whom we met in our travels

We were really hoping to see a pika, a member of the rabbit family with big ears and no tail; alas, s/he was not receiving visitors. More about the Pika here!

At times it was difficult to tell where the mountains ended and the clouds began....

The above photo was taken at Lava Cliffs, the highest point on the trail (12,080 feet) where there was a bizarre collection of "mushroom rocks," souvenirs from an ancient geological event. 

The planet earth was beginning to look rather unfamiliar ....

And I thought we had issues with snow on the roof! This Alpine Visitors' Center was especially constructed to withstand the most extreme snowfalls. The tall poles you see are guidelines to indicate the location of roads and walkways in heavy drifting conditions.

Finally we arrived at the Continental Divide, marking the place where the waters divide and flow either east or west, to the Atlantic and the Pacific.

Unlike the rainwater, we had a choice: we were flowing west, across Wyoming to the Grand Tetons.

Fern Lake

Off to Fern Lake, 5 miles long and more than two miles up!

Some features along the way were the Arch Rocks

The Pool, an indentation of the Big Thompson River

and more waterfalls

Now that waterfalls were no big deal, some of us were getting quite daring....

I was captivated by the mix of wildflowers studding the path like jewels, each more beautiful than the last.

I was shooting pictures compulsively until I realized that I was taking shots of flowers that volunteer in my own garden at home. In this context, even the most humble bloom looked like a prizewinner:

Simone led the way to our final destination of the day, the stunning Fern Lake:

We didn't see a lot of wildlife on this walk, but I was fascinated by the landscape itself, the tenacity of the rocks and plants and water that were struggling to survive and quite literally holding their ground. 

An infestation of pine beetles has been terrorizing the pine trees in this region. As I understand it, these insects burrow into the trees and leave behind a fungus which attacks the tree. The tree responds by oozing sap to force the beetle out, but it's a losing battle. Once the beetle eggs hatch, they compromise the tree further by consuming the inner bark. The damaged trees eventually turn a purplish brown color, which looks picturesque from a distance, belying the individual coniferous devastation. And yet, the rangers observe that this process is helping to thin out the forest and make way for healthier trees. 

One could observe the various stages of the coniferous life cycle as weathered trees like this 

rubbed shoulders with the next generation. 

And yet, even the dead trees were regal and majestic in their fierce beauty. 

Some of the trees we saw looked as stubborn as the gold-diggers who once tried their luck in these mountains. This is not a place where you give up without a struggle.

Speaking of struggle, I was very proud of the kids for sticking with the trail even when it was tough going. The trail mix helped, as well as the prospect of ice cream at Estes Park after the hike.