Where the Buffalo Roam

After the stressful rush through Canada, I knew we’d need a break.  Alaska also taught me to take experiences as they came available, so when our route to Texas took us within a couple hours of Yellowstone National Park, it wasn’t even a question whether we'd stop.

We drove the couple hours from Great Falls to West Yellowstone, passing some truly beautiful country.  If you ever get the chance, northern Montana is just stunning, even though it couldn't seem to decide if it was winter or spring (all of the above pictures were taken within 4 hours of each other).  We also got to see a bonus roadside cattle drive along the obscure highway.  We settled the kids into the Yellowstone Lodge, walked the idiot dog, and then Rick and I escaped in the truck to recon the park.  (Yes, you read that right.  After five days of driving, we decompressed by driving some more.  Shut up.)

That first night we just did a quick trip down the southern leg of the park to see Old Faithful.  Mostly we wanted to check the roads since we’d be taking Bertha the next day; part of the park was still snowed shut and other parts were icy and steep.  The accessible roads proved to be just fine.  Rick and I got to reconnect after nearly a week in separate cars and hotel rooms.  We also saw some bison and a grizzly—coincidentally, the first wild grizzly Rick had seen, even after four years in Alaska.  Go fig.

When we got back we rounded up the kids for dinner at the Slippery Otter Pub.  I recommend it if you ever find yourself hungry in West Yellowstone.  It was good enough we ordered pizza from there the next night for dinner.

The next day we got up bright and early, loaded up kids and the idiot dog, and headed into the park.  Even with part of the park closed, it was a great day.  For those of you unfamiliar with the park, Yellowstone sits mostly in a massive caldera—a collapsed volcano—on the Montana/Wyoming border, and its terrain and ecosystem are shaped by geothermal activity. (If you need an extra thrill for your visit, remember that parts of the park are rising about 3 inches a year--a massive number geologically--probably due to the supervolcano that sits directly below the park.  Happy thoughts.)

The mudpots, vents, and geysers were fan favorites. The kids loved walking through the clouds of sulfury steam; surprisingly few fart jokes were made. Despite the steam and boiling caustic water, the air was still cold enough that some of the pools were iced over and the surrounding trees were rimed with frost. Because I firmly believe in making fun experiences miserable, I quizzed the kids on volcanoes and other geothermal structures.  At the next stop they were very happy to leave me in the van to watch the dog while they went with Rick to see the Grand Prismatic Spring. Rick was willing to make a second trip with me so I could see everything—and, more importantly, take pictures.  I mean, if you don’t walk away with a thousand flipping pictures, did you even actually go?

Of course we had to watch Old Faithful.  A lot of people say it's overrated, but I don’t know when or if I’ll ever get my whole crew back up to Wyoming so we watched the danged geyser.  They advertise that it erupts like clockwork, but that’s, again, from a geological perspective; in human time there’s a good half-hour window of variation.  Rick volunteered to wait with the dog.  I tried to convince him to go, since I’d seen it before as a kid, but he demurred.  I shrugged, got the kids some overpriced sandwiches, and claimed a bench as we waited for the geyser to go off.

It was pretty cool. (If you're curious, it's not erupting in the above pictures--just prepping.)  The kids loved it. It turned out that Rick got bored of waiting and wandered out our way with the dog, so he also got to appreciate the geyser.  On the way back to the car Thura managed to slip her leash and spent a happy half hour playing tag with us.  She was as absurdly happy as only a dog who knows she's both naughty and almost uncatchable can be.  Rick and I were less enthused about chasing our idiot dog around the crowded campground.  All’s well that ends well, though; in the end everyone was back in the van where they belonged and I didn’t feed the dog to the bears.

We turned around and headed north to see the canyons, mountains, and calcite formations on the north rim.  We encountered elk, a marmot, a rather judgmental coyote, and a couple of bison jams. After driving through Canada, the kids were a little over the wildlife just outside our car, but Thura lost her mind over some rusty baby bison through the window. Like the girls, the bison moms were unimpressed.  After a very full day, we returned to the hotel and plied the kids with cold pizza and old sitcoms.  While they were distracted, Rick and I slipped out to the hot tub. We had a good conversation with our neighbors from across the hallway, who were very friendly despite the fact that our dog acted like they were murderers every time she saw them.  I left a can of Alaskan salmon by their door when we left in the morning.

The next day it was back on the road.  After so many days of being van people, the kids fought it less than I expected. I suppose they finally broke. It had been nice to have a reprieve, though, and even better to see one of our most celebrated national parks. It didn't disappoint.