Part 1 of 2: Open road therapy, bison, and a baby bear

At the end of Day 1, I am almost 560 miles from the comfort of home, but lately, home has been a place of restlessness.  Restless because I have not traveled in six months, and I am feeling stagnant and depressed.  All my attention was devoted to college, but now that the semester is over, my focus has quickly shifted.  My road trip could not have come at a better time.  I am in desperate need of some therapy that only the open road can provide.

And the open road is currently leading me north on Interstate 15. 

The midday sun is sweltering and when I reach Las Vegas, it is already 108-degrees.  Sin city is coming to life now that Covid restrictions have loosened, but I find no glamour in it, only irritation at being stuck in traffic.  And the heat is ridiculous.  Just north of Las Vegas, the temperature gauge on my truck reached 111-degrees!

I cross into Utah and the oppressive heat follows.  

Near Beaver, the temperature has cooled to a tolerable 91-degrees, but I am still grumpy.  I pull off the highway for a break and the hot gusting winds suck the life from me as soon as I exit my truck.  Not even an ice cream helps my mood, so I call it a day. 

Day 2 is another uneventful travel day, but it adds an additional 420 miles to the odometer.

I continue north on Interstate 15 and into Idaho where the air is cooler, fresher, and invigorating.  My excitement propels me forward through Pocatello and into Idaho Falls.  I want to keep going, but I don’t check into the hotel near my first planned stop until tomorrow, and after consulting my map, I think Idaho Falls is the best place to rest. 

The next morning, I long to stay snuggled in bed with the air conditioner on artic blast mode.  I have only 110 miles to go to my next stop.  It’s a short drive compared to the last two days, and since check out at the Super 8 isn’t until 11am, there is plenty of time for laziness.  As tired as I am though, I am also energized by the thought of today’s adventures.  Fortunately, my excitement prevails, and I get an early start to the day. 

It is an easy and beautiful drive along Highway 20 to West Yellowstone.   The line of cars at the park’s entrance winds slowly through town and after a 20-minute delay, I am finally where I want to be:  Yellowstone National Park.

Yellowstone was established in 1872 and is the first national park in the United States.  It spans approximately 3,468 square miles and is the largest and most famous megafauna location in the contiguous United States.  

Herds of elk and bison, along with a few scattered pronghorns, welcome me as I head towards Mammoth Hot Springs and then to Lamar Valley.  

Wildlife is abundant, which is good, because that is what I came for.  Bears, wolves, and moose are the Top 3 on my list of what I want to photograph, but the bison are so awe-inspiring that I stop frequently to admire them.

These animals are beasts!

A bull can weigh up to 2,000 pounds and stand 6 feet tall, while a cow can weigh up to 1,000 pounds and reach a height of 4-5 feet.  Bison calves, which are called Red Dogs, can weigh anywhere from 30-70 pounds at birth.  They look docile and slow, but don’t be fooled.  They can run up to 35mph and have been described as having a “wild and ungovernable temper”! 

The herds in Yellowstone are also rather unique. 

Yellowstone is home to the oldest and largest public bison herd in the United States and this is the only place in the U.S. where they have lived continuously since prehistoric times.  Their population within the park fluctuates anywhere from 2,300 to 5,500.

I leave the bison behind but continue stopping wherever I can.  Pictures of Canadian geese floating in a pond, an osprey successfully fishing in a river, and pair of sandhill cranes with a colt (the name for baby sandhill cranes) fill up my camera’s memory card.  

The endless views of valleys, mountains, and meadows are stunning.  Click click click.  More photos of bison, clouds, flowers, trees, and whatever else catches my eye.

And then there she is.

The traffic jam is a giveaway.  A Park Ranger is trying her best at traffic control, but it’s complete chaos.  In their excitement, people aren’t paying attention.  They stop in the middle of the road and hold their cell phones out their windows in hopes of getting a picture.  A passenger jumps out of a car and runs through traffic to get a closer look.   

The ranger toots her whistle toot toot to get people’s attention.  She frantically waves cars forward and yells at people to get of the street, but her efforts do little for crowd control.  I am lucky and get one of the last available spots on the edge of the turnout.  I join the throng of spectators to see what they see, and my heart skips a beat. 

This is what I came for and she is beautiful.

A cinnamon-colored black bear is radiant under the afternoon sun as she forages in a grassy meadow among fallen trees.  She climbs atop a log and looks at the people looking at her.  She is perfect.  But wait! There is movement at the base of a dead tree not far from where she stands.

A murmur arises from the crowd as two adorable cubs scamper up the tree!  They are so tiny and one of them sits on a branch with one little baby bear leg dangling.  It is the cutest thing I have ever seen.  

I realize that if I am to die today, it would be because I tried to hug a baby bear and was mauled to death by the mother.  Part of me thinks that would be okay because they are that precious.

**

The following day begins with another early start. 

Just a few miles past the west entrance gate is a small, paved parking area that is easily overlooked.  Most people zoom past as their enthusiasm pushes them towards the tourist-friendly attractions, like Old Faithful and Mammoth Hot Springs, but it is a stop worth taking. 

The air is clean and crisp at 52-degrees.  

I walk to the edge of the Madison River and a  raven caws loudly in response to my appearance.   The gurgling river and chirping birds drown out the buzzing of tires on the road behind me.  An occasional small chunk of ice floats by on the current as the spring thaw catches up to the upper elevations.  The water is frigid as I dip my fingers in it.  

The entire scene is ethereal as clouds filter the morning light.  I try to capture the magic with my camera, but it’s not the same as seen through my eyes.  More importantly, I can’t adequately portray the emotions welling up inside of me.  I put my camera away and sit in silence. 

I was last here in 2011 and from this exact spot I saw a bald eagle perched high in the trees across the river.  

I scan the treetops, and in the distance, I see a far-off speck.  It is a bald eagle, and she is majestically backlight by the rising sun.  It’s probably not the same one from twenty years ago, or maybe it is, but either way it makes me smile. 

It’s going to be another good day.

Yesterday, while watching the mama bear and her cubs, I overheard another photographer telling someone in the crowd where to see wolves.  From the size of his camera lens and his knowledge about the park, I knew he was a professional and inched closer to eavesdrop on his conversation.  He said Slough Creek on the way to Lamar Valley was a good place and that is where I planned to go today. However, after seeing the morning light, I change my mind.  

Instead of wolves, I concentrate instead on landscapes and, since it is still early enough to avoid the crowds, visit the more popular areas. 

Causal strolls through Lower Geyser Basin and Black Sand Basin to photograph geysers and hot springs make for a relaxing morning.  

At Old Faithful, I am about 40 minutes too early to see her erupt.  I sit for maybe five minutes, but impatience gets the best of me, and I continue on. 

Yellowstone Lake is 7,733 feet above sea level and the largest high-elevation lake in North America.  It is roughly 20 miles long and 14 miles wide with 141 miles of shoreline.   

I find a quiet picnic area along Gull Point Drive with views of the lake.  I sit under a canopy of pine trees and and heat up a can of beef stew for lunch.  Boats cruise the lake, birds chirp from above and a group of six talk loudly at a nearby table. 

At first, I am irritated because they are disturbing my peace, but as I watch them, I can’t help but smile.  They are of retirement age and all have gray hair and wrinkles.  They crowd around a table, sharing sandwiches while they chatter and laugh.  I smile at their good time and when they leave, they drive away in jacked-up Jeep Wranglers. 

My smile remains as I spend the next four days racking up the miles driving from one corner of Yellowstone to the other.  From seeing wolves in Lamar Valley (albeit about three miles away) to at least a dozen black bear sightings (eight in one day!) to hunting badger with no luck, and simply being in nature has done wonders to reinvigorate my spirit.

My time at Yellowstone National Park has come to an end, but my journey has not....

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A black bear looks back at the traffic near the Roosevelt Lodge