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Published: March 11th 2005
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The weather is a fickle beast, I’ve seen nothing but sun for weeks now, and to be honest the big yellow thing in the sky has never caused such frustration for me. Don’t mean to start things off on a negative note, but it’s the truth. Here’s the latest from my travels.
So last I wrote I had been in Bozeman for about a week, and had done that great trip to Cooke City, so I guess I’ll begin there. The next week didn’t hold too much adventure, just many a ski day up at Bridger, and some prepping for the group that came up to Montana for the ski trip this year. Oh, I also joined a ceramics class. Bozeman struck me as a fairly artsy place for a town up in the middle of Montana. One block from the hostel where I was staying was this “cultural center”, where a curious individual could find anything from dance classes for his/her 4 year old to guitar lessons, to a ceramics class. I had never gotten very good at throwing anything on the wheel in High School, and since I had a fair amount of free time I decided to
give it a try. I made a few things that weren’t complete junk, and found another hobby.
Having friends in town was wonderful, I really missed seeing some familiar faces. People all arrived on the Friday before Presidents weekend, and stayed through Tuesday. We got three days of skiing at Bridger and one at Big Sky, and we even got some fresh tracks after a 4-5 inch storm (the last snow I’ve seen!!!). We danced to the tunes of Steam Powered Airplane (anyone who’s a bluegrass fan keep this name in mind) and went to quite possibly the coolest hot springs in the world (if you find yourself in Norris MT on any day besides Monday or Tuesday go find Water of the Gods Hot Springs, and if you make it on a Thursday, Friday, or Sunday night you’re in for a real treat). But the real highlight was the corn dog world ski championships, thanks for the photos Rex. So anyway, a ski trip for the ages, all we need next year is SNOW SNOW SNOW!
So by Wednesday I was pretty beat and became a bit lazy during that week. The slopes at Bridger were showing
the effects of nearly relentless spring days, and seeing dirt on the ground was getting depressing. I had talked to a few people who had recommended seeing the Lamar Valley in Yellowstone, a wolf haven, and so that became the weekend trip. I went with another guy, and new friend from the hostel, we left early Sat morning with the intention of camping for two nights. Snowshoes were the mode of transportation, but I don’t really recommend the combo of snowshoes and backpacking backpacks, for hours as we hiked I was constantly stepping on my feet (or snowshoes) and randomly veering off course when the snow would suddenly collapse under one foot. A good substitute for feeling drunk without some of the benefits. But as always, Yellowstone’s real prize is its wildlife, and this trip didn’t disappoint. On the drive out we saw the usual bison, deer, and elk, Corey had never seen most of these animals, and had never even been to a National Park before, so while I had grown accustomed to the driving wildlife tour of Yellowstone, Corey was wide-eyed each time we passed a herd of any animals. But seeing an animal as big as a
bison from the car is one matter, sharing a trail with these brutes is something totally different. Just as we did, they chose the easiest route through the woods, which meant that as we hiked we encountered a few bison right in the middle of a single file trail both heading out and returning. We kept our distance as best we could, it was pretty special to see animals like this without the safety of a car.
Our first hint at the wolf population was an elk carcass which we spotted about halfway into the hike the first day. Based on the size of the antlers the animal must have been huge, but literally all that was left after all the wolves and scavengers had had their fill (so many tracks around from wolves, coyotes (?), otter I think, and smaller rodents, really amazing) were the antlers, the skull, and the spine and a little hair left over in the snow. There was no trace of any leg bones, or hips (or elk equivalent). Our next sign that we were in wolf country was the howling later on that night. As we made our dinner the sun set, and with the first stars that came out we immediately began hearing wolves howling from everywhere. In California there is always the thought of beer sniffing around the food stash, but most big predators are never seen or heard. Here I really felt like I was no longer in a place inhabited by humans, we were very much in their world. We were surrounded on all sides by howling, and Corey and I just sat back and giggled in amazement, and a little bit of trepidation. The next morning we wandered around near our camp (actually trying to warm up before breakfast), and found tracks from one of the howlers on a hill not more that 150 yards from the tent.
Corey realized after the first night that he had brought the wrong footwear and sleeping bag for these temps, so we cut the trip short and walked out that afternoon. As we rounded a corner within a half mile of the car we saw another herd of bison in a small field near the trail. We stopped to look and take more pictures, and to tip-toe past them, the first guy of the group actually was sharing the trail with us and was being very stubborn about letting us pass peacefully. We were excited enough, and a little nervous about the latest close bison encounter that we barely turned around in time to get a glimpse of a single wolf on a hill up above the trail. This stopped us dead in our tracks. The wolf took a good look at us and then disappeared behind the hillside. A fleeting glimpse, but I got to see my wolf!
I left Bozeman not long after that trip. I had been tracking the weather in the Salt Lake area, and in a quest for snow I made the 7 hour drive with only the faint hint of snow on the radar. Nothing came of it, but I did get to meet up with a relative for surely the best meal I’ll have on this trip (thanks Rusty and Carol). But after one day at Alta that was far from inspiring I again headed south, this time for Moab. For all you mountain bikers out there, you’ve got to go to Moab some day. I’ve been once before, but only got a small taste of the Slickrock trail. This time I took two full days and rode the entire Slickrock (and the practice loop again after the ride, just couldn’t get enough), and then a trail called Porcupine Rim, a 32 mile monster, lots of technical little drops and one section with a little bit of exposure, in the climbing terms (the trail was about 2 feet wide and hacked out of a very steep hillside). I recommend both, as well as the Moab brewery for a post ride beer or three. I also spent a few days in Arches NP basking in the sun, hiking, climbing around on all the crazy sandstone features, and gazing at the desert stars.
I heard a statistic not too long ago that Americans have now passed the Japanese as the hardest working nation (by man hours) in the world. Shame on all of you. At least I’m doing my best to drag you all down.
‘Till next time, and I promise pictures soon, darn these library computers! Peace.
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