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Published: July 28th 2009
July 28th 2009 What a stink! Yellowstone is America’s first national park, and seemingly a source of pride for the country. It is a fascinating place, but it stinks. Yellowstone is actually the site of an active volcano, with hot springs, geysers (disappointingly pronounced ‘guy-ser’ rather ‘geezer’!) and fumaroles spewing hot water and steam into the air. Along with all this water and air comes a lot of sulphuric gas. Oh yes, the delightful stench of rotten eggs perfumes the air of the entire park. I can’t say I was enamoured. The other main draw of the park is the animals. Anyone who knows me is well aware I’m not the animal kingdom’s greatest fan. Even less so when the sight of a bison (otherwise known as buffalo) herd causes a traffic jam. One such animal jam required the rangers to come out and direct the traffic! People just stop in the middle of the road. And other, really stupid people ignore the rangers’ advice to stay at least 100ft from the animals - the big animals with antlers and tusks that is - but get up real close and almost touch them. Do they not realise that one use
of the appendages on the top of the animals’ heads is for
fighting? Defending themselves against attacks from
stupid humans? Fortunately Nik and I both have long camera lens so Nik got to see the animals up close from sitting in the safety of the car.
It’s fair to say that Yellowstone was a disappointment for both Nik and I. And other people we have met along the way. It’s great for kids - lots to learn, exciting bubbling puddles of mud, scary bison grazing on the plains. It’s also fantastic for people who have more limited mobility - you can see many of the park’s main attractions - such as the largest geyser, Old Faithful, without having to walk too far. But if you are interested in jaw-dropping scenery, Yellowstone is not the place for you. Or maybe we were just spoilt by the Glacier National Park???
Lillys Ludiker My highlight of Yellowstone was meeting our camp ‘host’, Lillys Ludiker. The name alone endeared me to her. Stuck in the middle of Yellowstone (at supposedly one of the more remote campgrounds at Indian Creek), the septuagenarian (that means someone in their 70s!) Mrs Ludiker appeared at her
little window at the registration office with a full face of makeup (purple eyeshadow an’ all) and bedecked in mountains of jewellery. A retired Southern Belle if ever I saw one. She was a sweetheart, but had a little trouble understanding the Belgian (?) tourists who came in after me. Their conversation went as follows:
Tourist: Is Tower Falls (
another campsite) full?
Mrs Ludiker (
in a strong Southern accent) : I’m sorry?
Tourist: Tower Falls, is it full?
Mrs Ludiker (
talking a little louder): Telephone? No telephone here.
Tourist: No, no, Tower Falls?
Mrs Ludiker: No, we don’t have a telephone here. You have to go into town for that.
Tourist (
remaining incredibly polite): No, not a telephone, Tower Falls. Is it full?
Mrs Ludiker (
bracelets jingling): A tower? There’s no tower here. No sir, no tower.
Tourist (
smiling sweetly): No, the campsite called Tower Falls.
Mrs Ludiker (
looking increasingly bemused, but sweet with it): Towers? Full? Full towers?
Jennifer (
thinking to herself, seriously, this is worse than my dear grandmother without her hearing aid in): He wants to know if the campsite at Tower Falls is full or not.
Mrs Ludiker: Well, why didn’t he just say so……
It was a fascinating dialogue to watch! Differences in language and accent has been really interesting, particularly to Nik and I who are both unprofessional linguists. I wasn’t understood when I asked where the toilet was. I only got a response from the girl in Starbucks when I asked again for the restroom. Maybe it was just her, but really a toilet is a toilet is a toilet. Nik has had more problems with her mild Australian accent; some people simply haven’t understood her. Yesterday she asked for tomato - as in to-
mah-to - in her sandwich. The waitress looked at her blankly. I asked again for tomato - as in to-
may-to - and, by george, she got tomato in her sandwich!
Putting up a fight Tourists well outnumber bed spaces in the national parks. Each morning is a rush to get to your next campground before your fellow travellers to secure a spot. Having heard the campground at Jenny Lake in the Grand Tetons was particularly coveted, Nicole and I made the executive decision to get up at 4.50am the other morning to get to the Jenny Lake campground before 7am. I think we surprised ourselves at
the speed with which we rose, decamped and hit the road. Despite being half-asleep (although obviously awake enough to drive safely ;-)!!), we enjoyed a magical drive through the park, watching the sun rise over the Yellowstone river, spotting a few stirring bison, deer and a lone bear, and feeling smug at being one of the first on the road. We would definitely get there in time. And had there not been unexpected roadworks, we would have been. As it happened, we only just reached the edge of the Grand Tetons by 7am and surmised that we had already missed the opportunity of a lifetime. Okay, that’s a bit dramatic, but we decided to play it safe and stop for a couple of nights at the Coulter Bay campground, flush with a laundry room, showers (for the extortionate sum of $3.75 per shower!!), two restaurants, a grocery store, a Native Indian museum and an amphitheatre where they gave nightly talks on different nature-related subjects.
Jenny Holly reigns supreme In contrast to Yellowstone, the Grand Tetons are breathtaking. A single line of soaring mountains provides a stunning backdrop to the park; wherever you are Mount Moran and her neighbouring
peaks are there, towering over you. Scouring the map, we quickly decided on two day hikes into the mountains. Day one was a 14-mile (18-mile if you include the altitude difference) roundtrip to Lake Solitude. It was a hard walk, mainly in the sun and left both Nik and I exhausted. Sensibly on day two Nik decided to stick at a lower altitude, circling Lake Jenny to do some bird- and animal-watching. I had no choice but to do our original planned walk: from Lake Jenny to Lake Holly! How could I not?! All in it was only a 12-mile hike with just a 2,500ft change in altitude. Er…. I powered up, terrified of hiking by myself and meeting a bear along the way. As advised I started clapping and singing loudly to ward off the bears. I even made up my own song:
(
to the tune of ‘If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands)
Are you there, Mr Bear, you should flee! (
clap, clap)
Are you there, Mr Bear, you should flee! (
clap, clap)
Are you there, Mr Bear,
If you be, you should flee,
Are you there, Mr Bear, you should flee! (
clap, clap)
It's not exactly a top ten hit, but I guess it worked as I didn’t see any bears and got up to the divine Holly Lake and back down to Jenny Lake in one piece. My sanity is a little thin, though, having sung the same song at least 14 dozen times in one day! Living in bear country really does wear on your nerves….:-)
Betty Blues It hasn’t been a good week for Betty Boy. Having survived the fender bender on Monday, he had a bout of food poisoning last Wednesday. After a long day hiking, we went to the gas station, I filled him up and we drove off. After about half a mile some terrible, terrible noises started coming from the engine. Being rather nervous about the car breaking down, I immediately turned round and headed back to the gas station which had a repair garage attached. I then spent $250 on having Betty Boy’s tummy pumped - yep, I put diesel in the car instead of petrol. What a plonker! Fortunately I hadn’t driven too far and the mechanic was able to remedy the problem really quite easily. And I was not the
only person that day to do the same. Just as I picked the car up, the tow truck was going out to rescue someone else who had tried to poison their car.
To make it a hat trick, last night I was driving over a bridge in Salt Lake City when Betty Boy started screeching. The most awful noise. People in the street started shouting, 'Lady! Get your car fixed!'. I pulled into a car park and called out AAA (the American emergency roadside assistance association). The woman who came thought it was the brakes and towed me to the nearby garage. Everything was looked over this morning; no problem - just the brakes being hot and a bit dirty. Ah, the joys of owning a car. Fingers crossed he doesn't do that again....
A decidedly wet town Yesterday we drove from the Grand Tetons, Wyoming, through a corner of Idaho and down through Utah to Salt Lake City. We also took in half of Europe. In the space of about an hour we drove through Preston (a town in England), Bern (a Swiss town), Paris and Montpellier (both in France) and had a peak at Etna (the
original being in Italy). Not quite their European counterparts, the towns nevertheless were variously charming. The area alternates between national park land, with craggy rockfaces, rolling hills and wide plains used for arable farming. We came across some, um, rednecks. I'm not a fan of the word, but it is an apt description of the people in one gas station we stopped at. Lunch was taken in Montpellier, a town famous for the bank having been robbed by the infamous Butch Cassidy. We stumbled across a tiny coffee shop run by two hippies - the Aho's. Great lunch, the biggest frozen coffee I have ever been offered. If you ever happen to be in Montpellier, Idaho, please stop by and grab a bite with Carla and her husband.
Oh, this is a classic story! We were driving along the I-15 towards Salt Lake City. Nik was driving, I was navigating. I see a sign for 500 South Street. There's one of those in Salt Lake City. I tell Nik to come off the freeway. We come off, turn left and follow 500 South Street and continue a few blocks. Past 800 East Street, past 700E street, 600E, 500E, 400E,
Seamus enjoys the ride!
You didn't think I would leave the sheep behind, did you???300E, 200E, over State Street and West Temple and turn right onto 200 West Street. Just following the map towards the centre of town and the visitors centre. We get to the square where the centre should be. It's not there. There's just a post office. And stamped right across the front of the post office: BILLINGHAM, UTAH. We were in completely the wrong town! But the map was still pretty accurate. We were both wondering why the town looked quite modest for a state capital! We backtracked to the freeway, continued a few miles and finally found Salt Lake City. We used the same map and this time ended up at the information centre. Doh!
We are installed in the local campsite. And it's hot. Seriously hot. At 7.52am it was 82F (about 28C). Fortunately our campsite has a pool. And wireless internet. So I am sitting in the welcome shade of a tree just beside Sven, the ol' manly tent. It's not a bad set up. I don't have a cold beer in my hand. But I could do. So much is made of Salt Lake City being rather dry. In fact, it's not. You can buy
alcohol in any supermarket, bar or restaurant. Even our campsite. Nik and I were very excited about having to join private members clubs to buy alcohol, and had directions to the local state liquor store at the ready. But no need. You can drink as freely as you want. It's all rather disappointing!
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AMags
non-member comment
You are wonderful!
Your accounts of this trip are so good, they should be put into a book, along with all the photos. And what a coincidence: lakes named Jenny and Holly! Your bear song is a treat and I'm sure I'll be singing it for a while too. How disappointing about Yellowstone National Park. I never knew it smelled like that. I'd heard about the long traffic queues but thought out there the air would be pure and sweet. I'm looking forward to the next installment. Keep well and keep safe! We'll pray for Bettyboy that he has no more problems. lots of love.