Yellowstone National Park, WY (Part 2 of 3)
No better place to spend July 4th
As we went about our day doing those van-life things — taking care of our tanks, putting gas, buying milk — N. could not stop commenting on the fact that, for mysterious reasons, mosquitoes were nowhere to be seen. We had done all those things just a couple of days ago, and N. had been hyper-aware of them, both outside when running those errands — they really chewed him up while he was putting gas and cleaning the windshield — and inside the van. A small mercy: most of the cabinets and finishes in the van were a very light birch color; it made the mosquitoes easier to spot and slap dead. I speculated that the mosquitoes might be on holiday, appropriate given the date today — July 4th!
We drove to Hayden Valley and parked on a wide overlook. The wide open spaces, the hills in the horizon, the river meandering through — all made for beautiful open vistas. A pack of bison could be seen chewing and napping close to a smoky vent of a geyser. People came and went all afternoon. A retired couple from Oregon stopped to say hello and point to our hammock; we discovered that both of us had retired at the same time last October, sold our homes, and begun to travel the country.
For dinner, we headed to Gull Point Drive and its picnic area. Although the road to Gull Point, right by Yellowstone Lake, showed the effects of winter — massive potholes that made the drive an obstacle course — the area was practically deserted.
There, the unexpected gifts were the impressionistic sunset colors in the hills behind the lake and later, during the drive back to our campground, the sight on the side of the road of a male deer with a majestic set of antlers and what appeared to be its little fawn. We had already been surprised several times by deer on the side of the road, especially around dusk. The road could be dangerous both for drivers and for animals, so we tried to be especially cautious and to drive even more slowly than the speed limit.
Overall, a quiet July 4th at Yellowstone National Park. We could not think of a better place to be today.
***
We once overheard another visitor lament, “But it takes so long to drive anywhere in this park!” We felt her pain: we drove 44 miles to do a 6 mile hike, which, when put like that, sounded like a silly thing to do.
We didn’t mind the drive on the Grand Loop Road, which took us through some construction traffic (construction holidays were definitely over), deer traffic, and bison traffic (still quite a sight). Soon, north of Canyon Village, past more traffic-traffic, we were driving in mountain roads: alpine trees, vast fields of wildflowers, a few peaks with sprinklings of snow.
When we first got to the parking lot at the trailhead for Mount Washburn at Dunraven Pass (out-and-back, 5 miles according to the board at the trailhead), there was not a spot to be had, but after a short wait, hikers who had completed the trail came down, got into their cars, and drove off to other adventures. This particular trail was rated as moderate for its 1,400 feet in elevation gain in 3 miles or so.
The incline itself was not an issue; after all, we had done the “steepest hike in Jasper” to the Maligne Lake Viewpoint (elevation gain of 2,000 feet in 2 miles). The problem was the altitude: the trail began at 8,779 ft and we would climb to 10,348 ft. Right away, we heard ourselves breathing shallowly, trying to suck more oxygen out of the thin air. We climbed steadily, and I was in complete denial because surely I could not be the type of hiker who was affected by altitude, could I? N. did not stop as often as usual — he was aware that stopping too often could mean stopping for good on this trail. The higher we went, the farther we could see, but views were noted but not admired, for now. By the time we got to the ridge line towards the fire tower, we were way over the supposed halfway 2.5 mile mark and still had farther to go. We caught sight of some mountain goats doing their thing on the hillside, and I briefly wondered what kinds of lung power they might have. Just a bit more effort and we were at the summit. My app indicated we had hiked 3.7 miles.
It was a sunny day with a few fluffy clouds in the sky, and we had 360 degree views: mountains all the way to Grand Tetons, vast valleys with new growth forests amid the silver dead trees, Yellowstone Lake, the Grand Canyon of Yellowstone.
Overheard at the top:
“How are you doing, buddy? Do you want some water?”
“No, I’ve got water… Do you have some oxygen?”
“Water has oxygen…”
According to the educational panels inside the fire tower structure, the one in Mount Washburn was the only one still manned full time during the fire season in the fall. It also did double duty as a cell tower, with antennae and satellite dishes hanging on all sides of the building, although they must be just for show, since we couldn’t get anything above a bar or two of 3G. We soaked up the views we hadn’t had the oxygen to enjoy while hiking up, had a picnic lunch, took some photos, and got ready to go down the mountain. It was always a good feeling to go return to the trailhead, having accomplished our hiking goal and knowing that it was downhill all the way.
Back at the trailhead, I took a peek at the info board again and noticed that, at the spot where the sign said “5 miles”, someone had used a gray permanent marker to make a correction: above the number 5, they had written “7.2”. So corrected: Mount Washburn at Dunraven Pass, out-and-back, 7.2 miles.
***
On the way back, we stopped by the Mud Volcano area near Fishing Bridge — where signs indicated that fishing was prohibited (!) — and walked the boardwalk around all the stinking, bubbling, muddy formations in the area.
N. had expected a 5-minute stop, but the boardwalk continued through a loop almost a mile long. I may never shake my reputation as an unreliable source for hike lengths.
We stopped to enjoy dinner at a spot by a narrow strip of sand jutting out from the lake shore, which was, inexplicably, given the absolutely incredible sunset views, deserted. For these, N. was willing to get a few mosquito bites.
***
To take a break from high altitude hiking, we took a scenic drive to Lamar Valley to take a look at what one of the park rangers had said was the “Number #1 in bison sightings.”
As soon as we drove out of the Tower Roosevelt area and turned a corner and the valley opened up, it was difficult not to be enchanted: Lamar was a proper valley all right, but its landscape seemed more rugged, almost as if just by driving there, we were being also taken back in time. Instead of vast plain fields like in Hayden Valley, Lamar Valley undulated, as if the valley floor itself were waving with the wind. Mountains ringed the valley as if to protect the area from intruders; random rocks dotted the grounds, reminding us of those rocks in Joshua Tree National Park. And it was here that we caught sight of animals other than bison: a couple of coyotes or wolves running in the distance, a herd of pronghorn resting by a river; and on the road out of the valley, a couple of black bear cubs high in the hill, creating traffic worthy of celebrity sightings.
We also stopped by Calcite Springs and Tower Fall.
***
We were so confident we would find that magical cell signal spot again that, when we couldn’t, we thought for a second we were going crazy — could we just have imagined having signal and downloading movies?
We had driven this morning close to the area we thought was the magical spot, but had given up quickly and just driven on to Lamar Valley. Now, in the afternoon, I would find this spot even if I had to drive the Grand Loop Road up and down between Canyon Village and West Thumb like a mad woman. Part of the problem, besides our bad memory, was the fact that the signage around YNP was not as clear as it could be. Some signs to attractions were missing; others were worn down and illegible when driving at 45 mph. Both N. and I were tired, but our inability to find this picnic area now stung our pride. Once we got to our “sunset picture place”, we drove back and went into each and every lookout point. Only when we finally drove into Gull Point Drive did we see the tiny little arrow pointing to the right, with a small picture of a picnic table. So we hadn’t imagined the spot after all.
***