The Hills are Alive (July 30)

On Thursday morning, we repeated our early morning safari. This morning we experienced the same fog, the same other-worldly haze keeping some things obscured, and bringing strange beauty to others. The river attracts so many different kinds of birds, and there are just as many birders lining the road to spot them all.

This morning’s efforts brought us a close-up view of a bull elk, a magnificent creature. Since he was right next to our car, you could see all the fuzz covering his antlers. Of course we also saw a herd of buffalo, but the newness had worn off by then. Natalie was still really hoping to see a wolf, and I’d have liked to have seen another moose. But that is just a symptom of the human condition, to be dissatisfied with the wealth around us, just wishing we could see more, something different or better.

Back to the campground, where we had breakfast and another long, hot shower. It was slightly warmer and definitely getting sunnier, so most of us sat around the fire pit with a book and did some reading. We snuck in a few loads of laundry near the showers, and after lunch we went for one last hike in the park.

Before the hike, one of us needed to make an important phone call. When asked where in the park we could find the best phone service, a ranger just laughed and walked away. In the end, the best thing to do was use a pay phone (they still exist) at a lodge. We got to the Lake Lodge, near where we planned to hike, and there were three minutes left before the appointed time for the call. There were 4 pay phones at the lodge. Three of them were out of order. The other was in use. Fortunately, that person was not longwinded and everything worked out just fine. Whew.

I might add here that, when camping, it is best to avoid walking into lodges at national parks. Because when you walk in, smelling of campfire, sweat, and dirt, you will invariably encounter pertly dressed women with clean hair and nice shoes. You will see a number of relaxed-looking people in rocking chairs on the front porch and a comfortable, inviting lobby inside. Someone will be serving them something. And a piece of you will die. Though it may be reinvigorated as you solemnly swear that one day you will return, and you will stay in that lodge, and with God as your witness, you will never be cold again.

Sorry, got a bit off track there. We made our way toward Yellowstone Lake, and we started down the Storm Point Trail. The sign at the beginning encouraged us to stay in groups of 4 or more and to make noise so that we would not surprise any bears. The movie at the visitor center that we saw the first day encouraged us to yell “Hey Bear” whenever hiking. Jonathan and Andrew entertained themselves coming up with some alternatives to this.

Storm Point Trail went first through a meadow. The ten of us walked single file, some singing occurred, and all we lacked was a matching set of clothes made from curtains. Plus maybe a handsome older military man and a fetching nunnery reject. Next came forest, and then the forest opened up to the lake. We saw wildflowers and birds and lots of buffalo poop. We could walk out on a rocky bluff, and of course Natalie was immediately scrambling down towards the water. Meanwhile Allison was worrying that perhaps the water was acidic, because we could still get a whiff of sulfur.

When Natalie remembered to retrieve her waistpack from the rocks, we continued on our way, walking along the windswept lake. Yellowstone Lake is huge, one of the bigger inland lakes I’ve ever seen (obviously Great Lakes notwithstanding). A while later we came to an outcropping of rock that extended about 30 feet into the lake. We sat, many of us checking our phones, taking pictures with our phones, listening to music with our phones. No escaping technology, and the simple truth is most of us don’t want to.

We also sat watching a family struggle with a fishing line. A lot of people fish around here—I guess my theory is that if a body of water can support the fish, then the fish can’t be too tainted. If it were truly acidic, the fish wouldn’t survive. We watched minnows swim through the water, and watched the water bubble a tiny bit all around them. The earth exhales everywhere in Yellowstone.

On the way back to the campground, we ran into a long traffic snarl, caused by a herd of buffalo. The bison seemed to be intentionally crossing one at a time, simultaneously delighting newcomers and frustrating those of us who have been around a few days. After your 5^th or 6^th sighting of buffalo, you can’t help but become jaded, rolling your eyes whenever people slow down to get a better view of what is essentially a very hairy cow. And really, some of them need to work on their grooming. Here it is almost August and they still have parts of their winter coats hanging off of them. Majesty, symbols of freedom and the wild west, bah humbug. We need to get back to our laundry.

This last night promised to be a bit warmer, and we enjoyed one last campfire at Yellowstone.