Advertisement
Published: December 3rd 2012
Mountain Bluebird
At Mammoth Hot Springs, YellowstoneThe last time we drove through Montana and Yellowstone we were embarking on our "once in a lifetime" roadtrip. And yet, here we are a few years later driving along in the same car, the same roads, same life. It's comforting to be reminded that wonderous places and grand adventures don't have to be singular experiences; just because you only have one life, doesn't mean you only have to live once. You can (should) live everyday and make the most of even the most trying circumstances.
That philosophy was how we found ourselves rising to the calls of wild geese, rather than the buzz of a cheap alarm clock at the nearest motor-inn. This go-around Yellowstone wasn't even an intended destination. But after scrutinizing the roadmaps yesterday we figured we ought to take advantage of its convienient distance from Missoula. One long day of driving and we'd be well positioned to camp overnight in the park, wake up for a quick look around the next morning, and then be back on our way. Make no mistake - Yellowstone is not easily squashed into a day-trippers itinerary. The sections of the park are spread far and wide, it takes hours to
Mammoth Hot Springs Travertine
Mist rising from the travertine terraces travel end-to-end and it's not all that close to any major city. But if you find yourself debating between taking the interstate or routing through the nations' first national preserve, you should opt for the latter. You won't "see everything" but neither will you even in a week's time.
We entered the park through the north entrance - the one section which had managed to elude us five years ago. Towering over the road is the Roosevelt Arch, the construction of which began in 1903 when Teddy Roosevelt himself helped to lay the arch cornerstone. "For the Benefit and Enjoyment of the People" reads the inscription, a direct quote from the Organic Act of 1872 that first established the lands as nationally controlled, serving as the catalyst for not only the National Park system, but also the adminstration all federal lands and monuments to come. I
really wanted a photo of us standing underneath the arch, and it only took 32 takes before we finally got one (and, thanks to auto-release feature, we now have a action packed flip-book of me waiting for traffic, running across the road, almost making it before the tenth frame was taken, running across
the road again and Andras standing more or less in the same position wondering when all this nonsense will be finished).
Greeting us at the gate was a herd of mule deer picking their way along the sage-brush, the snow-covered foothills of the Absaroka Mountains in the background. Though we were on-foot for this encounter, having just wrapped out our arch-way photo shoot, it wouldn't be long until our opportunity arose to participate in the most popular past-time of Yellowstone visitors - slamming on the brakes, to avoid rear-ending a multi-car bottleneck, and straining your neck out the window all while trying to determine what type of wildlife is causing the fuss. It was at least a flock of big-horned sheep, rather than the ubiquitous bison.
Call it what you will - nature tourism, eco-tourism, bio-tourism - it has always struck me in an odd way. Don't misunderstand; clearly I
enjoy the natural world, and I
appreciate that natural areas have been rendered accessible for my enjoyment through infrastructural development. Most times. Othertimes I bemoan just
how accessible they are - such as moments like now, sitting at a traffic jam in what would otherwise be conceived as
"the middle of nowhere," reading park-provided statistics on how many animals are killed each year but speeding motorists. At what point does the balance tip, and nature become too popular for its own good, causing behaviors like ours - acts of appreciation and respect - to slowly destroy the very thing we love? Could we resist the urge to trample upon an otherwise pristine spot of earth or to populate a virgin island with our footprints? Does our presence contaiminate the natural order of things, or are we instead playing
into the natural order - disturbing and forcing adaptation, making what survives all that stronger? Is it possible to conserve the natural world by rendering it into a profitable tourist commodity?
When you have spent as much time in natural parks as we have, these questions can gnaw at you in the middle of the night, as you breathe in the crisp mountainous air beneath a starry skies, miles away from the nearest city but only yards away from another camper just. like. you. To venture into nature is to journey into a space vastly greater than yourself - to gain a physical sense of how small and insignificant
you are; in such frame of mind the worries and stresses of life drift away like trivialities. Futile, then, to travel to the ends of the earth only to be surrounded by your neighbors from back home.
Unlike the last time we were here, we had no pretense of emerging into some undistributed natural terrain and having our souls swell with the granduer of seeing this wonder of the world. So when we pitched our tent in Mammoth Campground for the night the we barely made the effort to get all of our belongings out of the car, then went to sleep early, tired from the long day of driving, sure, but also suffering a bit from contact-fatigue surrounded by all the energy and excitement of those here for the first time. And it is sad to note how easily one can become jaded, as the last time
I was the eager one, meticulously pouring through the guidebooks, brochures and park publications planning and charting and plotting our strategy to ensure maximum enjoyment, or else!
Not having an objective gave us the freedom to enjoy the space at our own pace, rather than rushing to cross things off
Yellowstone's Favorite Pasttime
Watching as the ranger corrals herds of people and flocks of sheep the list. It was
unbelievably refreshing to fall asleep at an unreasonably early hour without feeling guilty about it, and then to linger in the early hours of the following day, strolling hand-in-hand along the vacant boardwalks of the hot-springs, watching the steam rise up in the cool morning air, pausing to watch a bluebird flit about, its bright blue plumage standing out in brilliant constrast against the dull grey of the travertine terraces. We didn't see nearly as many things, or cover nearly as much ground, but we really enjoyed the moments we had. When we heard the sound of vehicles awakening from their slumber and the crowds beginning to stir, we knew it was time to push on, back to the open road, trying to outrun the world.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.232s; Tpl: 0.015s; cc: 21; qc: 118; dbt: 0.0874s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.4mb
Barb Jolly
non-member comment
Photos
Your photos are awesome!