Abbie's Real Life Blog

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So, in our last episode, I had just managed to nail my shots at the Missouri Headwaters State Park, decided to sleep in Three Forks, MT, and get up the next day to do a tour through Helena, Missoula, Butte, and the Bitterroot range.

I went to sleep on Tuesday night (June 2) with all sorts of ambition to do this, though I wasn’t sure that I exactly had the right amount of time budgeted.  In the middle of the night, I woke with some sense of anxiety, the way you do sometimes.  I was concerned that it was a lot of driving to Missoula and through the Bitterroots right after the monster amount of driving that was all day on Tuesday, and that maybe I was passing up my chance to do the Beartooth Highway or to see more of Bozeman.  So I decided not to do my grand plan of Missoula and other points in western Montana.  I would just do Bozeman and the Beartooth range, and dial down the day a few notches.

This was quite a choice to make, because I have wanted to see that part of Montana for quite a long time.  I was entranced by A River Runs Through It, which takes place in Missoula, though the movie was shot along the Yellowstone River and not the Bitterroot River.  But I really did want to see it.  Sometimes you just have to hope you get to come back to a place, though, and see everything you missed.

This decision, I want to point out, was not made after lying awake in the dark for minutes or hours.  I distinctly remember awaking for mere seconds, aware of my low-level anxiety.  When I have that kind of anxiety, I try to put a finger on what’s bothering me and address it directly, which I apparently did.  In the seconds that I was half-awake, I made the decision, and then I stuck with it the next day because it really was the more sensible option.

I was up early, though I had really failed to recognize, when planning this trip, that sunrise in June means 5:00am and sunset means 9:00pm.  Previous photo trips have taken place in January and April, when living sunrise to sunset means a little more time in the evenings for logistics, and a little more sleeping in.

I decided to head over to Bozeman, do some grocery shopping and other updates of my infrastructure, and eventually head back down I-90 to Red Lodge, MT, the beginnings of the Beartooth Highway, which would mean entering Yellowstone National Park from the northeast entrance, driving east through the park on the north loop road, and exiting again by Gardiner, Montana, and possibly returning north to Livingston to see Paradise Valley, the valley through which the road cuts south from Livingston to Gardiner.  This seemed like a much more leisurely day while still hitting many highlights that were on my original lists of things to see.

I took a back road to Bozeman from Three Forks which took me out of my way but was much more scenic than I-90 (though, honestly, even the interstates in Montana and Wyoming are scenic- it’s just such a beautiful area that even interstate highway planners were unable to make boring roads).

In Bozeman, I went to Safeway and the local natural food store, where I stocked up on some food and water and cold medicine.  I drove through Bozeman, a nice mountain college town.  I did some Twittering, sent some texts, talked on the phone, got gas and ice, and generally prepared to leave civilization for a few days, because so far I had had trouble getting cell service anywhere not on I-90 in Montana, and assumed I wouldn’t have much of a signal near the park.

57 degrees and tulips just past blooming in Bozeman.  My mother reports 90 degrees and 90% humidity in mid-Missouri. – 11:25am, June 2, 2010

Finishing the last chapter of Undaunted Courage on audiobook, about Lewis & Clark.  Excellent choice, very appropriate feel on the route.  -11:27am, June 2, 2010

When I felt like I had handled everything that needed doing, I got back on I-90 and headed east.

The drive from Bozeman to Red Lodge took about 2.5 hours, so I got there in the middle of the afternoon.  I was a little apprehensive about taking the Beartooth Highway.  Charles Kuralt called it “America’s most beautiful drive”, but it climbs to nearly 11,000 ft (an altitude gain of about 6,000 feet).  I did not know if my little Honda Civic Hybrid was ready to go to such an altitude.  But after I checked out the topographic maps in the Red Lodge visitor’s center, it was either turn back to Bozeman or head up.

I headed up.  I made a point throughout the trip to move to the shoulder and get people to pass me because I generally wanted to drive under the speed limit without the guilt or irritation of being tailgated.  And I did this a few times on the Beartooth Highway, but there really was not enough of a crowd on the road to make it a miserable experience.  I putt-putted my way up the side of the mountain.  My car went slow but it made it.  I stopped for a few vistas, but it was not quite as pretty as Kuralt had promised.  It was mostly cloudy, for one, while the road in from Bozeman had been clear and sunshiney.

The Beartooth Highway starts in Montana and winds into Wyoming before crossing back to Montana at Cooke City.  The Montana/Wyoming state line was at the top of the mountain pass, and I was AMAZED at the difference.  Literally the minute I passed the state line, the road narrowed from a two-lane road with reasonably-sized shoulders, numerous paved pullouts, and extensive guardrails (as we were careening along the side of a mountain, thousand-foot drops on either side), to a two-lane road with no shoulders, no lane markings, few paved pullouts, and really quite a lot fewer guardrails than I would have preferred.  It was scary.  I suppose I should hope that Wyoming is in the middle of heavy maintenance of a road that only opened for the season about five days before I drove it, but it certainly didn’t look like it.

Once I’d crossed into Wyoming, the snow got pretty serious as well.  North and east sides of mountains get less sun and weaker sun than the south and west sides do, and in particularly shadowy areas there were feet of snow on the ground.  At more than one point, I drove through 15′ snow tunnels.  The wind was pretty fierce as well, and I tracked as the temperature (recorded by my car) dropped to 34 degrees.

I wound with the road past signs announcing that I was now in Grizzly Country, which scared the shit out of me, past a high country resort that was still surrounded by two feet of snow, and into the Shoshone National Forest.  It was raining here, but it was a very cool landscape.  And then I went into Cooke City and Silver Gate, Montana, where less snow (but still some snow) was on the ground.  These are very small towns, populations under 200, and most of the population must be busy running motels, resorts, and gas stations to make money off the summer tourists.  What I don’t understand is A) what the residents do in the winter, when the snow must be very high and when the Beartooth Highway and the Chief Joseph Scenic Byway (to Cody, Wyoming) are both closed.  I guess they must close up the towns?  (I did find this about the school district in Cooke City, Montana.  There are three students and one teacher for grades K-8.  Do the high schoolers go elsewhere?)

I am always interested in the resident populations of towns that cater to tourists, and I attribute it to growing up in a tourist trap of a town while I was in elementary school.  It has given me an interest in looking behind the scenes to see how the town actually runs when the tourists are not in season.

Anyway, in Cooke City, I was driving down the main road (a two-lane highway), when coming from the other direction I met a fox.  He had a rodent of some kind (or possibly a pika) in his mouth, and he was just trotting down the road like he had a place to be.  It was one of the first wildlife encounters I had, and probably the only view of a fox I had at all.

From here, it was just a few more miles to the northeast entrance of Yellowstone.  This is probably the least-used entrance of Yellowstone, and it was about five o’clock in the afternoon when I went through.  The guard seemed surprised to see me.

My intent at this point was to wind through Yellowstone to Mammoth Hot Springs at the northwest entrance.  I had a reservation at Mammoth for Thursday night, but I was kind of hoping that they would have room for me on Wednesday as well, so I wouldn’t have to move around too much.  Otherwise, I’d proceed with my plan to Livingston.

The road from the northwest entrance is quite beautiful, and it was a lovely introduction to the park.  The road winds through scenic mountains until it opens up into Lamar Valley.  Having an introduction to Lamar Valley as my first view of Yellowstone is about the best that it could be, because Lamar Valley is spectacularly beautiful.  There are many valleys in Yellowstone, but the light here is just wonderful, especially in the evening.  I returned several times to Lamar Valley, and wished I could have spent even more time there.

It is also a major spot for wildlife-watching.  Generally, in Yellowstone, if you’re driving and you come upon a lot of parked cars and traffic stopped, they’re looking at something good.  Well, I had just wound my way into Lamar Valley when I came across a dozen cars parked on the narrow shoulder and people scurrying up the sides of the road to get a better peek with their spotting scopes, huge camera lenses, and binoculars.  (If I thought I had good camera equipment, I don’t hold a candle to your average Yellowstone wildlife photographer.  That is some serious equipment out there.)  I parked behind them and grabbed my binoculars, but I could not immediately figure out what it was they all could see.  If I’d gotten out of my car and sidled up to a guy with a big spotting scope and an air of importance, I probably could have found out what it was, but I didn’t know that.  After a few minutes of futilely scanning the valley, I pulled back on the road.  Traffic was tight here, as the roads in Yellowstone are only two-lane and often don’t even have shoulders.  Once I’d made it past the crush, I pulled off again to see if I could see it from this different vantage point.  This is where I made a huge error by accidentally leaning on my car horn while trying to steady my binoculars.  It only made a brief toot, but I got a number of glares, and, humiliated, I closed my window and drove hurriedly off down the road again.  I still don’t know what I missed there.  I hope it wasn’t wolves.

Not more than a mile down the road, still in Lamar Valley (because the road winds along the Lamar River here for several miles), I saw another crush of cars parked on the road.  This time when I pulled over, I could see the attraction.  At first I only saw bison, but then, with another pass of the binoculars, I saw the grizzly bear making a meal out of [what I took for] a freshly killed bison.  That was pretty exciting!  I really, really wanted to see a bear while at Yellowstone, and I’d been in the park less than an hour before I saw one.  Awesome.  I was even able to get some pictures with my long lens and the teleconverter that I’d borrowed from a photo club member.  You can just barely tell it’s a bear if I blow it up to full resolution.  But it’s evidence!

I stayed and watched while the bear finished eating, while roaring at a few carrion birds that were inching closer to his dinner, and then he wandered off, in rambling bear fashion, to a nearby lake for a drink.  In a few minutes, he’d headed over the top of a hill and out of sight.

I continued east on the Grand Loop road, but was quickly engrossed in the way the light was hitting the landscape, so I pulled over for some shots.  And again.  And again.  Finally, I pulled off at a place that was not a pullout and I got a friendly reminder from a passing ranger that I should pull my car All the Way off the road so I wouldn’t hold up traffic.  I got in my car, determined to get to Mammoth Hot Springs.

The drive along the north road is very pretty.  The valleys are broad, and the forest is beautiful, and there are just less cars here than anywhere else.  It’s absolutely my favorite part of the park, bar none.

You can see the travertine terraces at Mammoth Hot Springs from a great distance because they (and the rest of the Mammoth Hot Springs complex, which was originally Fort Yellowstone) sit above a valley that you cross for some distance.  They are quite amazing looking, big and white against the green of the valley and trees, and look alien and strange.  You can see pictures and a description here, though it’s hard to grasp the scale.

I stopped at the hotel at Mammoth to see if they had rooms, which they did not, so I headed out the northwest entrance to Gardiner.  On the way, I passed through a narrow valley made by the Yellowstone River, with high, rocky cliffs.  Several people were stopped with binoculars and cameras, so I pulled over, but again I could not see what they were looking at.  It was starting to be sunset, and I thought I had a long drive to Livingston ahead of me, so I pulled back out and drove down the road.  Gardiner is another tourist trap of a town, but much bigger than Cooke City.  I really had every intention of getting to Livingston that night, but as I passed the Jim Bridger Motor Court (with its vintage 1940s electric neon sign), I did a U-turn in the middle of the street.  A dozen adorable log cabins in a row, all vintage as could be.  I pulled up in front and paid for the night, just like that.  Vintage has that way with me.

Now in a tiny retro log cabin motel room.  I am in love with it, and plan to bring it back as a souvenir.  Why not?  They have a bunch more. – 10:35pm, June 2, 2010

It was not quite sunset, so after I’d hauled some stuff into my room, I went back up to Gardiner and poked around a few gift shops that were open late (which is smart, because I don’t think there’s anything dumber than being open normal hours when your shop is on the edge of a vast national park that will keep people busy during the day).  After that, I talked to my mother on the phone and did some more texting, uploaded some pictures, and that kind of thing.

The next morning, I had the plan to be up and out, but I could hear the rain falling on the roof of my little log cabin, and I let the alarm clock (on my iPhone) snooze for awhile.  If there’s no sunrise, there’s no reason to be up too terribly early in the morning, honestly.  So, when I got up and out, I wandered off in search of gas and ice (gas and ice, gas and ice- the mantra of the trip), and eventually wound my way back into Yellowstone National Park.

I stopped at the Mammoth Hot Springs visitor’s center first, which was interesting, and then I headed along the north road again, stopping to look at waterfalls and a couple of other things, even though it was raining.  I’m a little fuzzy on the details of Thursday, to be honest [I will have to check through photos to see exactly what I was up to that morning], but I think I wound all the way to Tower Falls and then started back west again.  Stopped for another crush of cars to be rewarded with a few seconds’ worth of a grazing moose on the edge of the woods (not enough time for a photo, alas, but moose sighting accomplished).  And then I headed back to Mammoth Hot Springs, where I ate lunch in my car after being overwhelmed by the lunchtime crowds, despite the continuing rain (or, probably, because of the continuing rain they were all in the places I was also interested in going).  I did find a quiet place to eat my lunch in the car.

After lunch, I headed south along the Grand Loop road (you can look closely at my Google map if you want, or here is another map of the roads in Yellowstone if you want it).  I stopped at Sheepeater Cliffs, which are supposed to be a good spot to see yellow-bellied marmots, but I only saw a raven.  He was a pretty funny raven, though.  I watched him land on two separate cars, requiring each to stop in the middle of the parking lot, while he clearly had an interest in getting food or something out of these people.  When I left, I was the only remaining car in the lot, and he approached me.  ”I know what you’re up to, ” I said, “and I’m not buying it.”  He flew over as I got in my car and landed on my side mirror anyway.

Here is a raven.  It told me a story but it was in confidence, so I can’t tell you what he said. – 6:37pm, June 3, 2010

After he gave up, I continued on to the Norris Geyser Basin area and the Museum of the National Park Ranger.  I was specifically interested in the latter, but when I walked into the building, the ranger acted as though I was the only person to visit all week.  ”Well, you’ve wandered into the Museum of the National Park Ranger!” she chirped, and I replied, “I know!  I came here on purpose!”  (While I was there, a couple came in and were confused to find out that they were, in fact, at the wrong museum.  She must get that a lot.)  It was not much of a museum, though it was on a pretty bend of a river (the Madison River, I think) with some bison and an elk grazing in the valley.  I went over to the Norris Geyser Basin after this, which is one of several geyser basins in Yellowstone, and probably the northernmost one of them.  It was very crowded, so I retreated quickly to my car and started winding my way north again.

I honestly have never seen so many RVs in my whole life. – 6:35pm, June 3, 2010

Once again, back at Mammoth Hot Springs, the crowds had thinned and I stopped to tour the upper terraces.  You can drive around there with your car, stop and do a boardwalk loop or two, then get back in your car to continue to another spot; that’s how big the upper terraces are.  It was not raining, but there was a lot of mist from the hot springs’ water evaporating into the cool afternoon air, and I think I got some very good photos.

I was able to check in at Mammoth, where I had my very own cute little cabin.  It wasn’t a log cabin.  I’m not sure when it was built, but it and its relation to its neighbor cabins reminded me very much of Greenbelt, Maryland.  The cabins faced each other with just grass in between; the roads were around the backside and you pulled up in between the cabins to park.  Each one-room cabin had a front porch with chairs, so it would be quite nice to sit out there and see people go by.  (Greenbelt, a planned community from the late 1930s, was built so that the front doors of the houses faced each other across wide grassy lawns, and cars only approach through what are basically the alleys, making for a very pleasant and pedestrian-friendly community).  The cabin did have plumbing for a sink, but no bathroom (which makes it better than the cabins-without-bath I stayed in at Yosemite), but the shared shower facility was only a short walk through the rain-soaked lawn.  It was very nice.  I liked it a lot.

I am very fuzzy on what I did on Thursday evening.  I will update this when I know for sure.  I think I wandered back towards Lamar Valley, but then turned around and headed north to the northwest entrance again, to see if I could see what was along the rocky cliffs (whatever it was that I hadn’t seen the night before).  It was raining and there wasn’t much hope for landscapes.  I was hoping here to see bighorn sheep, but when I saw the cluster of cars on the pullouts and pulled over with my binoculars, I didn’t see any sheep.  Instead, looking hard in the rain, I saw pronghorn antelope on a rocky outcropping.  Specifically, a baby pronghorn prancing about and a stoic mama pronghorn sitting proudly despite the rain.  I moved my car a bit and had a great view of a different group of pronghorn antelope, several adults and three babies, prancing about on the rocky cliff.  From here I took many pictures, gazed with my binoculars, and had enough cell service (from nearby Gardiner, MT) to update Facebook, text, and make some phone calls.  I had already determined that there would be no cell service for the next few days.

In Yellowstone, watching baby pronghorns leaping along the side of a steep, rocky cliff.  Saw a grizzly yesterday and a moose this morning.  But otherwise it has rained constantly.  - 6:43pm, June 3, 2010 (my only Facebook update- I’d already warned people I’d be updating from Twitter)

On the way back to my cabin, I did pull over for a pretty view of mist along the mountains with a little bit of sun.

The cool rain makes the geysers steam.  And the rain has parted for a pretty sunset for me for the last two nights.  So we’ll see! – 6:33pm, June 3, 2010.

In the morning (Friday, June 4), it was not raining when I woke up, but it was mostly cloudy.  After checking out of my hotel at an unearthly hour, I headed back down to Gardiner for a quick Twitter before I ventured south again.

Spent last night in the park at Mammoth Hot Springs, which make everything misty with vapor.  -6:18am, June 4, 2010

Headed deep into the park today, and will have no cell service for inane tweets for a few days.  Sad. -6:20am, June 4, 2010

As I drove back up to Mammoth Hot Springs, a baby mule deer was on the shoulder of the road, wobbly on its baby legs.  The mama was snacking on the lower part of the road, only visible when she heard my car and poked her head up.  I wrote this note later:

“Mule deer never fail to be totally surprised by cars.  Some live right next to the road and yet every car is a revelation.  In contrast, I saw a bull elk graze the same spot for two hours yesterday, right next to the road, oblivious to the cameras and brazen, stupid folks who would walk right up to him for photos.”

I went to look around the lower terraces of Mammoth Hot Springs, but ended up cutting that short as I’d seen a lot of it already from the top.  I headed south.  I stopped to gaze about at the Swan Lake Flats, the valley on the road between Mammoth Hot Springs and the Norris junction, but no big predator activity.  By this time, bison were old news as they are everywhere in the park.

Another note: “In Missouri, people would think it strange if I pulled over to watch cattle or whitetail deer with binoculars, but the equivalent in Yellowstone is perfectly acceptable.”

I was early to the Norris Geyser Basin, one of the first cars parked, so I started out to take some pictures even though it was threatening rain again.  I was starting to feel a little bedraggled, endlessly frizzy-haired, and damp, but I think I got some neat photos.  The steam and cloud cover over the geyser basins made them look even more otherworldy.  This was also the time when my driver’s side window stopped wanting to roll back up again.  It would roll down, but then would require me to stop the car and push on it from the outside while flicking the switch to roll up.  I made do anyway.

Since part of my goal in the park was to see every bit of the grand loops (see the map again; seriously, that main road is 2-lane throughout the park and there are basically no other roads), I continued west towards Madison, even though there were signs all over the park announcing road closures and delays between Norris and Madison, closures which did mean that I had to miss the Gibbon Falls.  (Otherwise, I pretty much stopped for any roadside waterfall, and there are a lot of roadside waterfalls in Yellowstone.  Even more that are not on the road, especially in the southwest corner of the park.)  I stopped to see what was available at Madison Junction, but it was clear that I was in a much more popular area of the park right away.  The roads were far busier.  I continued down the road to the west entrance for a little while, stopping to take some pictures of bison as a way of avoiding crowds for a bit, and then retraced my route back to Norris through the construction.  From here, I went on up to Canyon, where it was full-on raining.  I was able to check into my cabin even though it was only early afternoon.

Canyon Village is a newer area of the park.  I was able to check into my cabin, which is good because it was full-on raining at this point.  I pretty much loved Canyon.  The architecture of the lodge and registration offices was all 1950s-1960s and modernist.  The cabins themselves were also modernist, though (like a lot of vintage modernist) had been updated here and there by someone with taste for 1980s kitsch.  I still recognized and loved the bones of the place anyway, and though it was raining, I took a lot of photos under my umbrella.

Canyon Village is named for the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone, but since it was raining, I really had no interest in going to look at it.  Instead, I headed north again, over the Dunraven Pass in the Washburn mountains, and found a little sunshine on the north side of the range.  This was becoming common, the idea of chasing sunshine or going to look for the sun, because it often was out if I just drove to a different part of the park.  It made me frustrated and optimistic at the very same time.

North of the Washburn range is?  Lamar Valley!  Wonderful, wonderful Lamar Valley.  I did stop at Tower Falls this time and took some pictures, and then wound up to Lamar Valley.  On my way was another crush of cars, and when I glanced from my car into the woods as I drove, I saw a baby bear cub head, so I pulled off.  It was a mama bear and two cubs, and they were not fifty feet from the road, lounging near a tree.  Many people were getting very close to them, so I thought it was fine to get out of my car with my camera and long lens, and approach to get a better view.  By standing on top of a boulder within a few dozen yards, I think I got a lot of nice shots, and I still wasn’t half as close as some of the people were.  (Dumb people.)

I made this note about the bear-watching later: “While stopped to look at black bears, a small dog in an RV barked furiously.  I immediately remembered Steinbeck’s Travels with Charley and thought, “That dog’s a bear killer.”  (The bears were not fazed.)”

I headed on east, toward Lamar Valley, with the hope of seeing wolves.  They reintroduced wolves to Yellowstone in the 1990s, and the pack that lives near the base of Druid Peak in the Lamar Valley is very active.  Their den is on one side of the road from the woods where they hunt, so the serious wolf watchers set up their big lenses and scopes before dawn and wait for the pack to cross the road in the morning, and back across in the evening.  I made several passes through Lamar Valley over an hour or two, stopping and scanning with my binoculars, hoping that I would come across a crush of cars looking at wolves, but it was to no avail.  I saw no wolves.  A little disappointing.  I did get some landscape shots with a little of the beautiful Lamar Valley light, and then I headed back west and south across the mountains to Canyon Village.  That was my last visit to Lamar Valley on the trip.  If I return, I have every intention of staying at the Roosevelt Lodge or Canyon and spending as much time as possible in that part of the park.

It was already dark when I returned to Canyon, but I had some things to do in the evening.  Laundry, for one.  I had been on the road for nearly a week, and I was almost out of some key clothing.  Since I was booked at Canyon for two nights (wonderful since I loved Canyon Village the best so far), I could put my jeans in the wash (they badly needed it) and hang them to dry.  So I went to the laundromat and did some reading while the wash was running.  I just got there in time, too: the last loads could be put in no later than 9:00pm.

I made this note (since I was too far from cell service to tweet): “Canyon Village is above 8000 feet, so I am sleeping at a high altitude.  There is snow on the ground in spots here, and the rest is muddy.  It has rained almost constantly, while the lower elevations seem to get some break from the dismal skies.”

And this is going to be the end of Part One of Out West: Second Leg.  I probably should have broken this up into separate legs, but I don’t want to redo the map.

Here’s a link to Part Two of the Second Leg.