I’m writing this from the future... oooh...
This entry is for the tenth of July. It was a Monday.
As has been the case with previous days, the first thing I did was wake up. Then I tried to figure out the proper order in which to do things. Then I did them. I organized my truck, I ate some food, then I went and pumped up some water with which to brush my teeth. It’s more complicated than you’d think. Especially when you need both hands to make a cup for drinking water, but only have one available because the other one has to stay on the pump handle a-pumpin’. I did it though. A tiny bit at a time.
Then I walked down to the Madison River, the one I was camped near at that bottom of the Madison Valley. Then I drove.
Again with the mountain passes.
There was this lake, however. I believe it was called, ‘Quake Lake,’ or something like that. It was formed after an earthquake changed the river’s course. This interesting thing, however, was the effect it had on the local trees, many of which were drowned while still standing, and remain standing still.
After I took that photograph (and several more like it), I turned around and saw a little green (and yellow) belt climbing up the mountain.
Back in the truck, back on the road. I drove to Yellowstone, West Yellowstone, to be more specific, and, as many of you may know, I don’t like going into things without knowing about them first. So I drove around West Yellowstone, trying in vain to find the Information Center (for which there was much non-crucial signage). I just wanted to know how much I had to pay to get into the park before I actually got into a vehicular line from which I could not get out if I decided the price was too high.
Ultimately I had to risk it. I drove to the park entrance and got in line. It turned out to be twenty-five dollars per vehicle, which is fine if your road trip consists of multiple people, but I can’t afford too many parks that are that pricey. I paid up, and drove on in. The ranger guy had been kind enough to tell me that my ticket that I was only going to use for the one day was good for seven.
I stopped at the second pull-off loop (because I didn’t realize how the whole ‘park viewing’ scheme was going to work until I’d passed the first one by), after having been passed by a vacation maniac. When I got out of my truck I wondered about that person, and the reasons for which they came to Yellowstone. In my mind it seemed like some sort of ‘tourist obligation,’ some kind of mental state of ‘I’m going to Yellowstone, I’m going to see Old Faithful, nothing else in the park matters.’ I was content to wander about, to a certain extent, and see what Yellowstone had to offer.
I saw much, but not nearly enough. I’d like to go back some time and really get a week’s worth out of that twenty-five dollar pass that I’ll have to buy again.
As it was though, I enjoyed myself.
This is one of the very, very sulfuric smelling hot springs. Note the pretty blue:
Right near there (less than a stone’s throw, you might say) were the ‘Fountain Paint Pots.’ It’s basically boiling mud that comes in various colors. Sometimes it gets big and cools down and forms a sort of cone. I thought those ones looked kind of like mini-volcanoes.
Right around the corner from there was something called ‘Red Spouter.’ ‘Red Spouter,’ a sign proclaimed, ‘wasn’t even around a hundred years ago.’ The sign said that the boiling pair of muddy waterholes had formed during/after the Montana earthquake of 1959 (which, now that I think about it, is probably the one that formed Quake Lake).
I made some more rounds at the Paint Pot area, and then went up to the famed centerpiece of Yellowstone: Old Faithful. It was old, and it was faithful. Although, I heard someone say that it was scheduled to go off at 3:51, and by my cell phone it went off at 3:52. So there’s that.
On my way back to my truck from Old Faithful, I happened to look up at the sky. I saw neither bird nor plane, but a rainbow in the cloud. I took off my sunglasses to get a better view of it, and couldn’t see it at all. So what could I do to capture this precious memory forever in digital format? Why, put my sunglasses over the camera, of course. The rainbow was very strange and mother-of-pearl-like. I felt special in a strange sort of way—that I should see something like that merely because I had the right filters as eye-wear.
Suddenly I felt like it was getting late, and that I need to figure out how to get out of there, and where to go once I got out. And my truck had started making a weird sort of sound that you don’t really want your vehicle to make when you’re about a thousand miles from home and anything you know. That added to me not wanting to be there. I don’t know why exactly, but feeling that my truck is in trouble tends to add a sense of urgency to whatever I’m doing out here.
Long story short, I became that guy I had scoffed and wondered at upon first entering the park. No, I didn’t pass anyone, but I did pass by some things that I wish I’d stopped at. I crossed the continental divide, which I found odd, because I was headed east and thought I’d already crossed it once that way. Then, minutes later and still headed east, I crossed it again. I saw a map of the continental divide in Yellowstone, and sure enough, it makes a kind of horseshoe shape, so I did end up on the west side of the dived while driving east. Later on I did stop for the mini-heard of buffalo.
Shortly after that I got stuck in a crazy traffic jam. And then I saw why. There was a bear cub wandering along the bank of the road. Everyone passing had to stop and take at least one picture, that is, except for the biker who seemed very peeved at the whole thing. I stopped for my picture, after having taken a rather poor one from a ways back in line. I got everything lined up, and bam! The battery on my digital camera finally went dead. Whether fortunately or un, I’m not sure, but I was quick-witted enough to whip out the camera phone and snap a couple with that.
After the bear cub, I saw the lake, and after the lake, I saw a ‘Lake Butte Overlook,’ which I couldn’t resist. I forced my truck to climb the nasty hill, and saw some pretty amazing sights. There was a sign at the top which stated that I was now looking across more than thirty miles of expanse, and that I was also looking at the part in the lower 48 states that is farthest from civilization, or even a roadway for that matter.
I left there, after having taken my classic ‘film’ pictures, and started on down the mountain (which I didn’t really realize I was on). It was a long, windy, steep, treacherous, dirt road, once again. It was under construction. It took a really long time.
It wasn’t without reward, however. Off in the distance, there was something sort of awe-inspiring. Between two relatively ‘normal’ looking mountains, the kind I’m used to, there was a sort of plateau-desert mountain—the kind with a flat top and sheer sides... the way I put it in my head was that I felt like I was either driving into the old west, or a Wile E. Coyote cartoon. I was imagining that mountain as the background for so many runaway stage coach chases, and back-flipping ACME catapults... I was pretty pleased.
After I made it all the way down the mountain I found a place to camp, and was made more than a little nervous by the sheer number of “Grizzly Country” signs I saw. I did some typing, recharged my camera, and went to sleep.
After I took that photograph (and several more like it), I turned around and saw a little green (and yellow) belt climbing up the mountain.
Back in the truck, back on the road. I drove to Yellowstone, West Yellowstone, to be more specific, and, as many of you may know, I don’t like going into things without knowing about them first. So I drove around West Yellowstone, trying in vain to find the Information Center (for which there was much non-crucial signage). I just wanted to know how much I had to pay to get into the park before I actually got into a vehicular line from which I could not get out if I decided the price was too high.
Ultimately I had to risk it. I drove to the park entrance and got in line. It turned out to be twenty-five dollars per vehicle, which is fine if your road trip consists of multiple people, but I can’t afford too many parks that are that pricey. I paid up, and drove on in. The ranger guy had been kind enough to tell me that my ticket that I was only going to use for the one day was good for seven.
I stopped at the second pull-off loop (because I didn’t realize how the whole ‘park viewing’ scheme was going to work until I’d passed the first one by), after having been passed by a vacation maniac. When I got out of my truck I wondered about that person, and the reasons for which they came to Yellowstone. In my mind it seemed like some sort of ‘tourist obligation,’ some kind of mental state of ‘I’m going to Yellowstone, I’m going to see Old Faithful, nothing else in the park matters.’ I was content to wander about, to a certain extent, and see what Yellowstone had to offer.
I saw much, but not nearly enough. I’d like to go back some time and really get a week’s worth out of that twenty-five dollar pass that I’ll have to buy again.
As it was though, I enjoyed myself.
This is one of the very, very sulfuric smelling hot springs. Note the pretty blue:
Right near there (less than a stone’s throw, you might say) were the ‘Fountain Paint Pots.’ It’s basically boiling mud that comes in various colors. Sometimes it gets big and cools down and forms a sort of cone. I thought those ones looked kind of like mini-volcanoes.
Right around the corner from there was something called ‘Red Spouter.’ ‘Red Spouter,’ a sign proclaimed, ‘wasn’t even around a hundred years ago.’ The sign said that the boiling pair of muddy waterholes had formed during/after the Montana earthquake of 1959 (which, now that I think about it, is probably the one that formed Quake Lake).
I made some more rounds at the Paint Pot area, and then went up to the famed centerpiece of Yellowstone: Old Faithful. It was old, and it was faithful. Although, I heard someone say that it was scheduled to go off at 3:51, and by my cell phone it went off at 3:52. So there’s that.
On my way back to my truck from Old Faithful, I happened to look up at the sky. I saw neither bird nor plane, but a rainbow in the cloud. I took off my sunglasses to get a better view of it, and couldn’t see it at all. So what could I do to capture this precious memory forever in digital format? Why, put my sunglasses over the camera, of course. The rainbow was very strange and mother-of-pearl-like. I felt special in a strange sort of way—that I should see something like that merely because I had the right filters as eye-wear.
Suddenly I felt like it was getting late, and that I need to figure out how to get out of there, and where to go once I got out. And my truck had started making a weird sort of sound that you don’t really want your vehicle to make when you’re about a thousand miles from home and anything you know. That added to me not wanting to be there. I don’t know why exactly, but feeling that my truck is in trouble tends to add a sense of urgency to whatever I’m doing out here.
Long story short, I became that guy I had scoffed and wondered at upon first entering the park. No, I didn’t pass anyone, but I did pass by some things that I wish I’d stopped at. I crossed the continental divide, which I found odd, because I was headed east and thought I’d already crossed it once that way. Then, minutes later and still headed east, I crossed it again. I saw a map of the continental divide in Yellowstone, and sure enough, it makes a kind of horseshoe shape, so I did end up on the west side of the dived while driving east. Later on I did stop for the mini-heard of buffalo.
Shortly after that I got stuck in a crazy traffic jam. And then I saw why. There was a bear cub wandering along the bank of the road. Everyone passing had to stop and take at least one picture, that is, except for the biker who seemed very peeved at the whole thing. I stopped for my picture, after having taken a rather poor one from a ways back in line. I got everything lined up, and bam! The battery on my digital camera finally went dead. Whether fortunately or un, I’m not sure, but I was quick-witted enough to whip out the camera phone and snap a couple with that.
After the bear cub, I saw the lake, and after the lake, I saw a ‘Lake Butte Overlook,’ which I couldn’t resist. I forced my truck to climb the nasty hill, and saw some pretty amazing sights. There was a sign at the top which stated that I was now looking across more than thirty miles of expanse, and that I was also looking at the part in the lower 48 states that is farthest from civilization, or even a roadway for that matter.
I left there, after having taken my classic ‘film’ pictures, and started on down the mountain (which I didn’t really realize I was on). It was a long, windy, steep, treacherous, dirt road, once again. It was under construction. It took a really long time.
It wasn’t without reward, however. Off in the distance, there was something sort of awe-inspiring. Between two relatively ‘normal’ looking mountains, the kind I’m used to, there was a sort of plateau-desert mountain—the kind with a flat top and sheer sides... the way I put it in my head was that I felt like I was either driving into the old west, or a Wile E. Coyote cartoon. I was imagining that mountain as the background for so many runaway stage coach chases, and back-flipping ACME catapults... I was pretty pleased.
After I made it all the way down the mountain I found a place to camp, and was made more than a little nervous by the sheer number of “Grizzly Country” signs I saw. I did some typing, recharged my camera, and went to sleep.
1 comment:
Rainbow is other-worldly. Cool!
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