The Think Tank

Summer Vacation 2002

Our trip to Yellowstone and Mt. Rushmore

We left Portland late on the First of September; Lois, Sue, Chris, Maure, Debbie, and my friends Mike & Becca. Things were behind schedule, as usual, so we didn't leave until nearly eight at night. Mike and Becca caravanned as far as Boardman. Our plan was to go to Helena to pick up Don and Shirley so they could go to Yellowstone and Mt. Rushmore with us. Mike and Becca decided to skip the trip to Helena and head straight to Yellowstone, planning to meet up with us sometime later when we got to the park. So we went our separate ways.

The first night we made it as far as Spokane before we got too tired to keep driving, it was about 3 AM. We pulled over at a truck stop and slept the night, our first test with sleeping in the new van. It was actually quite comfortable! In the morning we ate breakfast early and got back on the road. We had made plans to go to the Gates of the Mountains with Uncle Don, Aunt Shirley and their brood, but as the day wore on we realized that we might run out of light. We called Uncle Don and he said that he would meet us at the Gates to save time.

We got to the Gates of the Mountains Recreational Area shortly before four O'clock in the afternoon, leaving us a few hours of good light. Don and Shirley had brought their boat and so had Christy, Dean and their kids, so we all piled into the two boats and went up the river to the campground, where Aunt Shirley put on a great lunch of burgers and salads. It was excellent seeing all of our relatives. Dirk, Marci and Dana weren't able to make it, unfortunately, but everyone else was there; Don and Shirley; Devin and his son, Justin; Dan and his girlfriend, Christine, and his daughter Jody; Christy and her husband, Dean, along with their three girls, Ariel, Emily and Abby.

  We ate lunch quickly in deference to the setting sun, then all of us scooted back to the boats for a ride down to see the Gates. I hadn't been to see the Gates since I was about eight, and I'd forgotten what it was like. What a sight!

The Gates of the Mountains are really a series of very sharp, tall cliffs along the Missouri River, named by Lewis and Clark on their expedition West. They called the cliffs the Gates of the Mountains because as you travel down the river it appears that you are facing an impenetrable rock face, but as you continue on along a very gentle bend, it looks for all the world like the cliffs part in front of you, like a giant gate.

Aside from the rugged beauty of the cliffs and their river, the area has some interesting history. Mann Gulch, which lies just behind the Gates, was the sight of a terrible wildfire in 1949 – the biggest in
Montana history at the time. 13 smokejumpers lost their lives fighting the blaze. The story is chronicled in a book titled Young Men and Fire by Norman McLean, one of Lois' favorite books.

After the Gates we went back to Uncle Don and Aunt Shirley's and slept hard! The van was okay, but we were all pretty tired. The next day we had intended to head out for Yellowstone, but an overheating problem in the van kept us grounded until late in the day. As it turned out the cure was simple; we just needed a new thermostat. Mark one up for Sue; neither Don nor I thought that would be the fix. But sure enough, a new thermostat and bingo! We were up and running again. Unfortunately Uncle Don and Aunt Shirley decided that they couldn't go with us, there was too much to do at home they said.

The next day, while we were eating breakfast, a famed Montana gully washer moved in and dumped about an inch of rain in a little under an hour. We were all caught unaware by the storm, and as such hadn't tarped Debbie's truck, which held all of our tents, folding furniture, etc. – and Debbie's clothes. Needless to say, all of our stuff was soaked by the time we got our act together and got everything tarped. We stayed long enough to dry some of our clothes and set off.

That little rainstorm started a trend that lasted for most of our vacation. We were rained on in every state we were in with the exceptions of Washington and Oregon. Go figure!
We all wanted to stop and see some of the sights along the way, and a couple of the ones we wanted to see the most were Virginia City and Nevada City. One of our favorite highlights, though, turned out to be a little place called Robber's Roost, which we stumbled on accidentally.
Located right off of Montana Highway 287, which was once the thoroughfare between Virginia City and Bannack, Robbers Roost was built by Pete Daily in 1863. Pete’s Tavern catered to some seedy characters who robbed lonesome travelers, and the upstairs was dedicated to the ladies of the night. Apparently it was quite a rough and tumble place, we spotted several bullet holes in the timbers! We also found a noose, although the only thing hanging from it was a string of Christmas lights.

Today a friendly, gray-bearded fellow runs it as a small tourist attraction, and he's turned part of the ground floor into a little gift store where he sells jewelry that he makes himself. Over the years many people have stopped to take a gander at Robbers Roost and left their names chiseled in the walls. According to the fellow, some of the graffiti dates as far back as the 1920’s! Mo happened to find one from Portland, of all places, dated 1941.

Out front there is a sign that reads “Robbers Roost 3-7-77.” At first we thought that meant March 7th, 1977… but we were wrong. 3-7-77 are the dimensions of a grave; three feet wide, seven feet long, 77 inches deep. Vigilantes would write this on your door the night before they came to get you. If you weren't gone by morning, you were hanged!

     We had a pleasant little chat with the proprietor and I took quite a few pictures before we ponied up and sidled on down to the sprawling metropolis of Nevada City.

Nevada City was once a pretty happening place, thriving off the hoards of prospectors who swarmed to Virginia City in search of gold. The original town burned to the ground in the 1920's, but sometime in the 1950's a man by the name of Charles Bovey began restoring the town. From what I could gather from a lady who worked there,
Bovey bought the town to save it from beingdemolished. Since most of the buildings were in shambles or destroyed, Bovey would find buildings from the period that were going to be destroyed and rescue them, taking them apart board by board and transporting them to Nevada City. Once he got them there he would try to match the buildings to the basic size and shape of the foundations left from the original town. It's not exactly how it was in the rip roarin' past of Alder Gulch, but it's about as close as it can be, I guess, and it was very neat to see. It gave you a real sense of what the town would have looked like in 1863.

While we were there I was able to take quite a lot of pictures of outhouses for Loie's collection, although I couldn’t get a picture of the best one because of a movie that was being filmed while we were there. It's a double-decker douly! The sign on top reads “Montanans,” while the “Others” were damned to the bottom!

Across the highway from the entrance to the town is the
Nevada City Engine House, built in 1899. Several old railcars from different lines are sitting around, I assume waiting to be restored. Mo and I peeked into the Engine House and found a beautiful old steam engine that was in the process of being restored, but I wasn't able to get a photo. We were able to climb up into one of the unrestored cars and take a look around. They were pretty neat inside before they fell into disrepair. We were stunned at the elaborate adornments in the woodworking and would

very much have liked to see what it must have looked like in its prime.

After we finished our trek through Nevada City we drove up a small mountain to Boot Hill, the local cemetery overlooking Virginia City. Most of the grave markers had long since vanished, victims to weather and age no doubt, but a few still remained. We weren’t able to track down any info on the five road agents laid to rest there, but whoever they were, they were all hanged on the same day by Vigilantes.

By now it was getting dark and we were tired and hungry. Since the weather was still holding for us, we decided to head back a few miles to a campground we'd seen on the way in. We got ourselves set pretty fast and were able to enjoy a beautiful sunset before chowing down on hamburgers and catching some shuteye.

The next day we got ourselves packed up and decided to head into Virginia City for breakfast. We toured up and down the streets and found only one place open; the VC Café. Just as we got inside and sat down it started to rain. We weren't too worried and made a joke to the young man waiting on us about being from Oregon, the wettest place on earth. As it turned out he was attending U of O! We chitchatted with him for a while and had a nice time. We also befriended a very
pretty golden retriever who cleaned up our left-overs for us.

Now that our bellies were full we started our trek up and down the boardwalks – actual wooden boardwalks – of downtown Virginia City. Most all of the buildings in that part of the town were the actual ones from the Wild West and great gold rush of Alder Gulch. Many of them had been turned into small museums or gift stores, but quite a lot were left how they had been. I got some pretty neat pictures here. It was cool, getting to be that close to some real history.

The sprinkles continued off and on, but it was nothing too worrisome and we had all of our stuff pretty well rain proofed after our mishap in Helena. We drove on,

undaunted, for Yellowstone.

We got to Quake Lake late in the afternoon on the Fourth of September. The sky was mostly clear and blue again, but there was a hellish wind that was blowing in some ominous clouds. We took several pictures of the incredible landslide that was caused by an earthquake in 1959, measuring 7.5 on the Richter Scale. The quake was so powerful that it caused half of the mountain face to slide down the valley and 300 feet up the other side of the canyon! The slide dammed the Madison River
and created what is now called Quake Lake. Evidence of natures cold fury is everywhere, but two testimonials are a pair of huge dolomite boulders that now stand as memorials to the people who died in the quake. Each boulder weighs 3000 tons! They rode the top of the slide all the way across the valley and up the other wall. Pretty amazing stuff.

Up to this point things had been going pretty well, so I guess it was inevitable that someone would get hurt along the way, and Mom was the victim this time. Dixie, Debbie's dog, playfully nipped at Mom's finger and got her tooth stuck in the skin next to the nail, gouging out a big piece. It hurt pretty bad, Mom said, but we got it patched up quick enough.
Dixie spent the rest of the day looking broken hearted. Didn’t know who I felt more sorry for, Mom or Dixie.

After that we moved on down the road, stopping at several of the markers along the way to learn some more history about the earthquake. One of the places we came across was the ruins of a house that fell into the river during the earthquake. The lady of the house and her dog were sleeping when the quake hit,
and they had to jump over a five foot gap to make it to safety as the house slid away from under them! Those pictures were pretty neat, although I’m not sure why Mom and Mo posed like Gangsta's. I also found a little chipmonk who kept poking his head out from between a few rocks on the waters edge. I had to wait several minutes to catch him, but I finally got a good shot.

On the way back up the hill from the remains of the house, Mom showed off her Snake Walk, which is supposed to keep snakes at bay. I have to assume that it works; any snake who saw her walking like that would be too busy laughing to bite anyone. Fortunately I got a short video of it for posterity.

Guided by Sue's peculiar gate, we made it back to the cars unharmed and set out for the Park. The sky was dark and foreboding, and within minutes we were deep into a very powerful rainstorm. We'd borrowed a tarp from Uncle Don before we left, so everything was covered, but as she often does, Nature found a way around our defenses and soaked all of our camping gear yet again. The storm showed no signs of giving up, and all of our stuff was already wet, so we decided to skip camping that night and stay in a hotel. We came across a cute little place called the Sleepy Hollow Inn in West Yellowstone, MT, and rented a very nice log cabin. We ate very tasty stew and went to bed, hoping that the rain would be gone in the morning.

Naturally, we were wrong. If anything the rain had intensified. But, being good Oregonians we weren't going to let the wet get the better of us, so we donned the few warm clothes we'd brought with us and set out – I was the only one who'd brought an actual rain suit. We got into the park through the West Entrance pretty early in the day and we were all overwhelmed with the beauty of the landscape. The rain slowed to an intermittent drizzle, which was nice since we stopped at most every opportunity to take pictures and soak up the scenery. In some ways I was actually glad for the gloomy weather; the clouds floating by the mountains made for some nice pictures!

     We'd only been in the park a few minutes when we stumbled on a large herd of Elk. There must have been at least thirty does and calves. It took a couple of minutes to spot the bull, but we finally found him about three hundred yards across the valley. He was too far away for a good picture, but we were able to see him pretty well with the binoculars and spotting scope.

We hadn't been on the road for but a couple minutes more when we spotted our first bison. Wow! That was pretty neat. I'd never seen bison before, but as the days wore on we all became quite familiar with them, and we saw quite a lot that were bigger than this one. This first one, though, was very exciting to us. I hopped out and started taking photos, being careful to stay a respectable distance away. He let me and the other people – maybe five or six folks – take some pictures of him, but then I guess he got tired of the attention and trotted off, right down the road. I got a couple of pictures of that too!

After the bison the rain really started in again. At some point Mo had borrowed my rain coat, but since I kept getting out to take pictures, even when it was pouring, I stole it back. Pretty quick we happened on our first hot spring. We saw it off to the side of the road and Mom and I hopped out and braved the driving rain to check it out. Her finger was doing okay now, so I guess she figured she was due for another injury. I was busy taking pictures when I heard a muffled thud and groan from behind me. I turned and found Mom sitting on her butt in the mud. I helped her up and made sure she was okay, then made her pose for a picture of her muddy behind. Sympathy is kind of hard to
find around this crowd!

When we got back to the car the rain started in even harder. I took a picture of it bouncing off the ground in a parking lot. It was truly
impressive, and that means something coming from an Oregonian. We consulted the map and decided to skip the scenic byways off the main loop and head down to Old Faithful, hoping to give the rain some time to pass while we drove. We planned to back track to see the Firehole River and Falls when the weather was a little nicer. No sooner had we made that decision, though, then the rain began to let up. Hoping that it was a trend, we diverted and followed Firehole Drive up to one of the most beautiful waterfalls I have seen. It wasn't very tall, but Firehole Falls is something that I was very glad I got to see. I climbed down a fairly steep and slippery cliff to the rivers edge where I could get some better pictures. The climb backup was a killer, but it was worth every minute.

Just before we got back on the main loop we came to the Firehole

Cascades. This was easily one of the most beautiful waterways I have ever seen, with every color of nature present down the banks of the river.

Back in the van, our next stop on the path was Old Faithful. The sky had darkened again and the rain started back up, but we felt sure that it would be fairly short-lived like the rest of the squalls. When we got to Old Faithful

Inn Mo and Debbie made a beeline for the gift store – I didn't know it, but apparently they had found a rule that said they had to examine every single store for goodies to buy. Mom and I made beeline of our own, straight for the waterproof ponchos! We needed four of them to outfit the whole crew, and that was exactly the number they had. I wandered around and bought a couple of souvenirs, but basically I dislike shopping as much as I do the rain, so I went out into the Inn itself and hunted around until I found a prediction for Old Faithful. When I did I saw that we had only a few minutes, so I ran and got everyone and we donned our new raingear and hurried out to watch.

This was one of the things I wanted to get pictures of more than anything else, so
naturally the batteries in my camera died after I took the first photo, and I'd forgotten the spare set in the van. I hurried down and got the batteries, but when I got back I found that I had missed the show. I was a little bummed, but it was only 90 minutes until the next eruption, so we had some hot cocoa and coffee in the restaurant and saw the next one. That was really neat! I have to say, it was just water and steam shooting out of a hole in the ground, but getting to see Old Faithful blow her top was something that I'll always remember. I was disappointed in the photos because the geyser trail was lost in the clouds, but I was pumped to have seen it nonetheless. Loie was so jazzed up afterward that she thought she should climb the walls outside the Inn!

The weather cooperated with us and got a little nicer after that, though it stayed chilly.

We moved on down the line and came to the Grand Prismatic Spring and Excelsior Geyser. Both of these thermal vents are huge and the warmth generated by the geologic activity, mixed with the cool temperatures of the day, bathed the whole plateau in heavy mist. Loie decided she wanted to stay in the car this time in deference to her sore hip, even though we offered to push her in the wheelchair. She said she was content to watch the steaming rivers of runoff work their way into the Madison River.

Mo, Debbie, Dixie, Mom and myself set off up the trail. Debbie and Dixie were turned back by a no dogs sign, though, so they went and kept Loie company and started the lunch preparations.

     Excelsior Geyser was formed by a great series of explosions in the 1880's, shooting water 50 to 300 feet in the air! Eventually the violent eruptions changed the
underground system of ducts and the geyser went dormant in 1890. It was quiet until 1985 when, for unknown reasons, it began a series of continuous eruptions that lasted about two days, then fell silent again. No one knows when it might become active again, butut didn't do much of anything while were there.

The Grand Prismatic Spring is one of the most beautiful sights in the world. The deep blue of the water at its center radiates outward to a pale baby blue at the shore, where the mineral deposits on the earth's crust finish off the rainbow with bright reds, yellows and greens. Unfortunately, because the day was so cold and gloomy while we were there, the colors of the Spring were muted by the heavy fog. Still, it was awfully neat to be there, and I did get some good pictures of some of the smaller springs around the area. The pungent smell of sulfur permeated the air, but nothing could detract from the joy of seeing these jewels of nature.

The Great Fountain Geyser, another one of Yellowstone's premier attractions, was next on our hit list. This very large geyser erupts on a 14-15 hour cycle. We got out and started inspecting things a little bit and ran into a geologist who worked for or in


the park, I wasn’t sure which. He told us that it should go within a half-hour! We figured that was pretty good timing, so we hauled out the tripod and waited. I got some neat photos of it going off, although the eruptions were somewhat lost in the sky, thanks to the dark clouds. But oh well… I still got to see it.
And I also got to see White Dome erupt, another geyser just down the road. This one was a domed geyser and it erupted on a completely irregular basis. The colors on the sides were like looking at an artists pallet. It was simply beautiful.

By now it was close to sunset and the sky was finally starting to show streaks of blue and hinting at a nice sunset when we saw the turnoff for Firehole Lake. Having been enchanted by the Firehole Falls and Cascades we couldn't pass up the lake. What we found was almost eerie. A number of small thermal vents feed into the bottom of Firehole Lake and the surrounding waterways, warming the shallow waters and causing them to
steam endlessly. The effect of the steaming lake against the setting sun was breathtaking.

The sun was all but down now and the sky was clear for
the first time all day. We had high hopes for tomorrow, but the prospect of camping on soggy soil after having been rained on all day was too much, and we headed back for West Yellowstone and another hotel room. Along the way we were held up by a large group of buffalo crossing the road. Several cars were forced to stop while the huge animals meandered across the road, prodding a pack of reluctant youngsters along, but none of us minded.

The Sleepy Hollow was full, but we found another nice log cabin not too far away and bunked down. By the time we got ourselves fed and settled it was close to midnight. Loie was exhausted from the days adventures and was out like a light. The rest of us stayed up awhile chatting about what we'd seen earlier. Mo decided to step outside for a cigarette and Mom said she'd keep her company. Little did they know that they would attract the attention of some guys who were on their way home after indulging in some of West Yellowstone's finest brew houses. I was reading my book and minding my own business when I heard “Hey! There's Chicks!” through the open door to our cabin. Intrigued I went outside to see what kind of trouble they'd gotten themselves into now. I was apprehensive at first when a man came walking out of the gloom, a little wobbly on his feet, but soon it became clear that his intentions were honorable, and quickly he had us all laughing hysterically at his somewhat slurry tales. All we knew about him was that his name was Dave and he was from Utah. After a while he wandered off in search of the friends he'd veered away from earlier, leaving us to laugh at the absurdity of the situation.
     The next day we woke and found that the rain had renewed itself, pouring all night long after Dave from Utah left. We were up around six AM, despite having stayed awake laughing at our midnight visitor. We were out the door by around eight and into the park shortly thereafter. We'd already seen most everything we could up to Old Faithful, excepting the bike routes and longer hiking trails, so we were going to just zip past what where we'd already been and start up where we'd left off. Our plan changed somewhat when we passed the valley where we'd seen the elk herd the day before. A large number of cars had stopped alongside the road and a crowd of people were looking at something, so we stopped to see what was going on. The same herd was there still, but this time the bull was up front, probably less than fifty yards from the road. I hopped out quickly and moved as close as he would let me to take some photos. I knew I'd gotten close enough when I took a step and he turned his head and stared straight at me. I got the point and stepped back a few feet and he relaxed.

That little detour completed, we hopped back in the rigs and got about two hundred feet down the road before we found another group of gawkers. It was elk again, this time the bull was way up on a hill and bugling like a madman. One of his does had wandered way down by the creek and he was looking at her and bugling. She didn't seem to care at all. I tried to get some pictures through the spotting scope, but they didn’t work out very well. A man standing next to us pointed out a coyote that was following the herd around the hillside, so we got to see our first coyote!

It wasn't long before we got to see another one, though, and this one was close enough to get pictures. We spotted him off the side of the road from Madison to Norris, which has been under construction for more than two years and is open a total of eight hours a day; four hours in the morning and four at night. The coyote drew the attention of several cars and when traffic stopped enough for him to feel safe, he crossed the road and stood right outside my window. He couldn't have been more than six feet away. I had my camera ready and started


snapping wildly, and I found that he was quite the ham. He looked me dead on, then turned his head to the left, then to right. It was as if he were posing for me! I thanked him when I was done and he sauntered off down the hillside, another tough day at the office completed.

The trip up to Norris took us through a section of the park still recovering from the 1988 wildfires and was slow because of the ongoing construction and repair work, but the scenery was as lush and gorgeous as everywhere else and we were well entertained. The guide we were given said that moose and bear were frequent visitors to this area of the park, but aside from the coyote our trip was critter-free.

When we got to Norris we cut through the center of the park and wound up at Gibbon Falls. I love waterfalls so I am probably biased, but again I thought this was just a gorgeous sight. I thought about trying to climb down and get some pictures from the bottom of the falls, but it didn't look like there were any trails down, and the canyon walls steep and looked slippery from rain. We were about to pack up and drive on when Debbie spotted an osprey perched in a tree across the Gibbon River, searching the waterway for a tasty treat. I tried to get a picture, but he was so far off that it didn't turn out well. I tried shooting through the spotting scope again, and this time had marginal success.

     Along the way we spotted a few more elk and bison before we came to the Virginia Falls. They were only visible from high-up along the canyon walls along a very narrow road. We weren't able to stop for long, but I got several pictures to remember them by.

After that we made our way to Canyon Village. This is where we found the Upper and Lower Yellowstone Falls as well as the Grand Canyon of Yellowstone. We bounced from viewpoint to viewpoint, soaking up the glorious views down the deeply hued ravine leading to the Yellowstone River, and the thunderous majesty of the Lower Falls, spilling more than 300 feet into the valley.

Along the way we ran across a couple of trails that led down to other viewpoints. As I said earlier I love waterfalls and few are as spectacular as the Lower Falls, so I naturally wanted to go. Everyone else was scared by the five- and six-hundred foot drops that the trails made, but Mom sucked it up and went with me. At the bottom of the first, the Red Rock Trail, we found the namesake; a huge, tree covered boulder aired as a rosebud.
The Red Rock was very neat, but for me the best part was the view of the Lower Falls. As I recall that particular spot was named Inspiration Point, and I know exactly why. It was the closest viewing of the Lower Falls anywhere in the park and I must have taken fifty pictures from that one spot. When I was finally happy that I'd gotten a good one, a very nice lady offered to take a picture of Mom and me in front of the falls.


     The last spot in Canyon Village that we had on our list to visit was Artists Point. It is aptly named; most pictures that you see of the Lower Falls are taken from this spot. I had filled my memory card and was getting my other one ready when Mike and Becca walked up behind us like it was a carefully laid out plan. Of course, it was not. Our cell phones didn't work anywhere in or near the park, so we hadn't been able to communicate with each other. But then, Mike and I share a single brain, so it's not that big a surprise that we wound up at the same place at the same time.

We hooked up for the rest of the afternoon, heading up to Tower Falls, on the northeastern corner of the main park roads. We didn't make it far, though, before we stumbled on a young, female moose! Several rangers were around and they said she was fairly young and that her folks were around somewhere, but bullwinkle kept himself hidden.

Tower was another spectacular waterfall that I'd seen pictures of and knew I wanted to see in person. It took more than an hour to drive up and over the mountain passes between Canyon and Tower, topping out at an elevation of 8,945 feet. The thing that I found most fascinating about Yellowstone was the great diversity of the landscape. In less than an hour we went from deep, sharp, canyons etched with an artists pallet of colors, to high, grassy plains as far the eye could see, and back again. Sharply contrasting the flat plains of the west, Tower was all jagged canyon, tattooed with volcanic striations that looked like something out of a science fiction novel.

     We got to Tower Falls and Mike, Becca and myself started down the half-mile trail to the bottom – all the old folks chickened out. The river made a bend where the stream bled into it, the water a brilliant, clear blue that seemed unreal. Once we got to the base we found the falls were so tall that we couldn't fit the whole thing in the frame! Mike and I looked around and found a tall hill that looked like it would give us the vantage point we wanted, so we scampered up it as quickly as we could, drawing dirty looks from a number of people making the same trek at half the speed. Our long legs really paid off for us that day.

Once we got to the top we jockeyed around until we got the pictures we wanted. When we were done, an elderly man who had only made it up the shallower part of the hill asked if one of us would take his camcorder and shoot some pictures. Mike was closer so he agreed and pretty soon we were all three back on the flats and headed for the cars.

We'd only seen about half the park at this point, but we thought that if we wanted to see Mt. Rushmore, which we all did, we would have to leave that evening to start the trek east. Tower is closest to the road we would take out to South Dakota, and since the weather showed no signs of improving, we were looking forward to a little South Dakota sun to dry us out.

We parted ways with Mike and Becca again, and made our way toward the Petrified Tree, our last stop in Yellowstone for this part of the trip. The section of tree stood only about ten or twelve feet high, but it had been standing in that spot for two million years! It was once a redwood, heralding back to a much warmer, much

different Yellowstone area. Once upon a time there were several petrified trees in the grove where this one stands now, but poachers have stolen all the rest.

That night we took the northeast road out of the park. We only made it about half way to the park boundary when we met up with Mike and Becca again. They had stopped, along with quite a few others, when they saw a small black bear bounding down the mountainside toward the road. By the time we showed up the little bugger was way up inside some kind of bush or other, gobbling berries. He seemed a bit camera shy, spending most his time hidden in the shrubbery, but I managed to get a couple of good shots of him before he crossed the road and tromped off to the river.

One of the best experiences of our trip came next. We were headed down the road again when we were stopped by a large herd of bison in the road. I couldn't even count the number of buffalo! The best part was that the alpha bull was right next to our car. He was grunting and growling like crazy, and as we watched he called the whole herd up on the road around us. We all felt very privileged to take part in that experience with these once nearly extinct mammals. All told, we were probably in the middle of the herd for twenty minutes.

We stopped a few hundred yards farther down and watched a herd of antelope, adding another notch to our animal card, before continuing on to Cooke City, just outside the boundary of the park. It had rained off and on again all day so we were in the same predicament as we had been the previous days regarding pitching tents on soupy ground. We found a cute little hotel that was kind of expensive, but turned out to be very interesting. When Yellowstone was originally established it was under the supervision of the Army, and the cabin that we stayed in was officer's quarters for the park staff more than a hundred years before. There were rumors that a black bear had been wandering the property, but we never saw him.

     When the morning came we found another meteorological surprise; the hills just east of our cabin were dusted in snow! We knew it had been cold during the night, but we hadn't realized it was that cold. We ate breakfast quickly and hit the road, headed for the snowy hills.

     Charles Kuralt called the Cooke City Highway the most beautiful stretch of road in the United States, and I would tend to agree with him. What we found on our journey was some of the most breathtaking landscapes we'd seen yet; steep cliffs, jagged mountains, placid lakes, a really pretty waterfall across the valley, as well as the afore mentioned snow dusted hills. At the western summit we reached the highest elevation of our trip, a whopping 10,947 feet! The scenery was gorgeous, plus we found enough snow to have a little snowball fight.

After that we made the long haul to South Dakota and Little Big Horn, the plains where Custer made his famous last stand. We arrived late in the day so we were a little short of time, but we still had enough daylight to complete the walking tour. We all felt very privileged to stand in the very places where this tragic and historic battle took place. The air was alive with the memories and spirits of the men who lost their lives on those hills in 1876. All told, more than 200 people were killed and scores more wounded. I had always known that Colonel Custer had made a horrible mistake when he attacked, but what I had not realized was how recklessly he dealt with his men's lives. Custer was clearly not fit for command.

     By now it was nearing dark so we started looking for a place to camp. So far the weather was cooperating very nicely, but as darkness approached, so did rain clouds. Before we found a place to camp, it was raining pretty good again. We found a KOA near Buffalo and stayed the night in a Kamping Kabin. By now we were well and truly tired of being rained on, but we were all of us having a wonderful time despite the uncooperative weather.

The next morning we were up early and off to Mt. Rushmore. On the way Debbie joked that the faces would probably be hidden among the clouds. I was about ready to shoot her when we got there and, sure enough, the sixty foot granite faces were partially masked by the gloomy and drizzling clouds. But, thankfully, the lower clouds blew by quickly and the day dried out, giving us a wonderful view of the amazing likeness’ of four inspirational father's of our country.


     We all went off on our own for the time while we were there; Mo and Debbie shopped like mad women; Mom and Loie gazed at the faces; and I took far too many pictures. After we were content, we made our way back towards the cars, intending to return after sunset to watch the lighting ceremony. Along the way we found that a raindrop had cascaded down the cheek on the sculpture of Gutzon Borglum, the sculptor who worked for 14years to create the monument. The raindrop looked for all the world like a
tear!

We had wanted to see the Crazy Horse Memorial, which celebrated it's fiftieth anniversary still under construction recently, but the weather degenerated again and clouds obscured most of the mountain the sculpture is being carved from. We scratched that and went to find a place to stay for the night. When we returned for the lighting ceremony, Mt. Rushmore was completely shrouded in cloud. I was very disappointed, but as the ceremony moved closer and closer to the actual lighting, the clouds evaporated. Everyone was asked to sing The Star Spangled Banner while they slowly brought the lights up, illuminating the spectacular monument in a golden light. As if awed by the spectacle, the sky cleared and stars shone brightly behind the carvings of George Washington,
Thomas Jefferson, Abraham Lincoln and Theodore Roosevelt. I'm not usually moved by such displays, but I admit that I felt a chill watching the lights come up to a thousand people singing our national anthem. As with so many moments of the trip, it was one I will always remember.

The next morning the sky was finally clear and bright, and the temperature quickly climbed into the eighties! We were all so
excited that we could hardly contain ourselves. I said that I wanted to return to Mt. Rushmore so I could take some photo's of the mountain and it’s awesome shrine with the backdrop of a crystal blue sky. Everyone was more than willing to oblige. After I felt I had my fill, we took a scenic drive along Highway 16, where we found the very intriguing Pigtail Bridges as well as a roughly shaped, one lane tunnel blasted through the mountain which perfectly framed the president's heads!

After spending a couple of very enjoyable days in South Dakota we decided that it was time to start heading back west. Along the way we wanted to stop at a few places, most notably Deadwood, the city where Wild Bill Hickcock was shot and killed just months after the disastrous events at the Little Big Horn River. Everything we read touted the town as being a historic city with buildings and locations that dated back to the Wild West. What we found was the only real disappointment of the whole trip. The entire town of Deadwood burned to the ground, and the" authentic” buildings were nothing more than new construction in the old locations. Instead of embracing its historical past, Deadwood was little more than slot machine casino's and fast food restaurants.

Disappointed in the town, we made way for Deadwood's Boot Hill, where we saw the graves of Wild Bill,
Calamity Jane and Potato Creek Johnny – as well as a number of Civil War veterans. That part was interesting, but we were all happy to leave Deadwood behind.

That was the end of South Dakota and we were off again for Yellowstone, aiming this time for the East Entrance. The drive was long and we arrived outside Cody, WY, in the wee hours of the night. Along the way we passed the two smallest cities I have ever heard of; Shell, population 50; and Emblem, population 10!

     The weather held for the rest of our trip. One of the first sights we came across was Lake Yellowstone, and what a sight it was! Thirty miles of lake! With the exception of Grant Village, a small camping settlement designed for visitors of Yellowstone, there was nota significant human development between where we stood and Jackson, WY – over 100 miles. That means we were looking at a place farther removed from any other in the lower 48 states! It was awesome.

Next we came to Steamboat Point, another hotbed of thermal, geologic activity, part of the same underground fissures that caused a huge explosion to blast out the cavity now known as Indian Pond, our next stop. Here I was shocked by the number of grasshoppers! Every step I took through the grass was met with the leaping of thousands of the bugs! It was interesting and creepy at the same time. Less creepy and infinitely more captivating was a small herd of buffalo napping under a shade tree.

     After Indian Pond we came to the Kepler Cascades, yet one more spectacular water feature of the park. Perhaps we were getting spoiled from all the fabulous scenery, but we didn't linger here as long as we had earlier in our trip and instead moved quickly on to the Mud Volcano.

This was really intriguing. The same thermal activity that caused the other hot springs in the park caused these mud pits, but instead of beautifully clear, blue water, these pits were filled with thick, soupy mud set to boiling and sputtering eternally. For some reason these boiling mud pits were shrouded with a much stronger smell of sulfur than the other hot springs.

Since we were near and our previous attempt had been doused with rain, we backtracked to Old Faithful and watched the geyser spew forth again in the beautiful sunshine. Loaded down with pictures I felt were much prettier then my last attempt, we hopped back in our rigs and started out on a quest. We wanted to find a great big bull moose with a head full of antlers. We'd seen a smaller female already, but we weren’t satisfied. We wanted a Bullwinkle!

We consulted the maps and guides we'd been given and saw that we were smack in the middle of prime moose country, so we started driving around the marshes and streams moose like to feed in. But alas, we found nothing and the sun was quickly setting, so we abandoned the moose hunt in favor of a camping ground. We were going to get to actually camp again!

     Along the way we found a very pretty four point mule deer, who was rather inquisitive of me and my camera as I took pictures of him, poking his head out from behind a large fallen tree. Later on, just across from our campsite, we found a very courageous doe and her fawn munching on grasses. They were kind enough to let me take a few pictures of them before moving on across the campground.
     That night we ate hotdogs roasted over our campfire and smores. It was our first chance for real camping since setting out nearly two weeks earlier. We had a wonderful time, though we were mindful to keep our ears tuned for the sounds of a midnight visitor; the Ranger had said there was a grizzly bear who'd taken to raiding the campground the last few nights. We heard quite a few car alarms go off, but no bears.

That night the sky was as clear as a diamond, and littered with more stars than I thought possible. I've used the word breathtaking several times in this litany, but the incredible vastness of the clear, black sky and glittering points leaves me no other description. It was breathtaking. That same clear sky, though, made sleeping very difficult, bringing colder temperatures than we'd found the rest of the time. It was some incredibly cold sleeping, but soon enough the sun was back and we were thawed and on our way to our last stop in the park; Mammoth Hot Springs.

Before we got there, though, we ran into a couple more herds of elk. The first herd we found had a royal elk, a six-by-six, as patriarch.
He was right by the side of the road when we first saw him, and as quickly as I got out he started bugling. I was lucky enough to get a good shot of him calling, and I was surprised when I heard an answering call from across the meadow. The bull in front of me was intrigued also, and he started out across the field, bugling often. I again felt privileged to see these animals in their native habitat free of harmful human interference.

I wondered if perhaps we might find the other elk down the road, and sure enough, we did. This was a regal elk, a six-by-seven, the biggest bull we saw. He was purposefully rubbing his antlers along a tree trunk when we found him. I knew that it was mating season for elk so I had been keeping my
distance when taking pictures, but a fellow not too far from me didn't seem to have the same concern that I did, and crept to within a few feet of the elk. Without any warning at all the bull turned and charged the guy! It happened so fast that I wasn't able to get a picture of the elk chasing him, but Mom did manage to get some shots of him with his head down. At first I thought the guy would be able to get away without much trouble, but he was staggering over small bush and the elk was gaining very fast. Quickly I realized that this guy was going to be gored. The elk's horns were no more than two or three feet from the man when Dixie, startled by the sudden movement, began barking at the bull – and I think saved the man's life. The elk drew up short when the dog started in, and the man turned and booked it back to his car. Judging by the look on his face Think he needed a change of clothes. The elk snorted a few times and trotted off deeper into the woods.

Amped up from all the excitement, we saddled up and headed for Mammoth. I'd seen pictures and heard what it was like, but I was not prepared for how truly giant the thing was. Over the eons these hot springs have been building and changing, coming to life and going dormant again, building vast mineral deposits over and around everything in their path, growing like a mountain from tiny trickles of water. Without the pictures I took I cannot think of any way to describe how incredibly huge these hot springs are; it is as big as a mountain. Parts of the mammoth attraction are swathed in vivid colors covering the whole spectrum, while other, dormant sections have been bleached a brilliant, ashen white. The white areas look like a moonscape, while the active parts look like they were pulled from the pages of a fantasy adventure. Tiny waterfalls and thousands of shelf-like pools give Mammoth Hot Springs a majesty equal only to a few places on earth.

This part of the park was the original entrance and was home to old Fort Yellowstone. Most of the buildings have been converted to residences for park employees and Rangers. We did a very quick tour of the area, though we were beginning to feel pressured to get down the road. The sun would be setting soon on the 10th of September and we had a lot of road to cover.

We were on our way out when we spotted another herd of elk, this one lead by another royal bull. And this guy was charged up! He was actually herding a bunch of does and calves around, butting them with his nose and antlers to prod them where he wanted them to go. The group was close to three hundred yards distant on a hill, and as we watched he herded them all down the slope towards us. When they reached the valley near the road, maybe sixty yards away, they looked like they were going to head away from us and back up the hill. But suddenly, the group turned and charged up the hill for the road, headed straight for us! There were quite a few people gathered around, and we all realized that they were going to come up on the road right in front of us, so we started backing up as quick as we could, not wanting to surround this bull who was obviously ramped up already. We hadn't managed to get more than ten feet away before they came charging up over the hill and onto the road. The does hurried on across, but the bull turned and looked hard at me and Mom. We kept backing away and pretty quick he took off across the road and ran up the hill beside where we parked the van. Debbie
and Mo thought they could have reached out their windows and touched him as he passed by their truck. It was one of the most memorable parts of the whole trip.

After that we continued on to the Roosevelt Arch, etched with Theodore Roosevelt's epitaph of the park; “For the enjoyment and benefit of the people.” We had our pictures taken in front of the arch as well as the “Leaving Yellowstone” sign, saddened at our departure but reveling in all the memories.

We drove through the night back to Helena, arriving near midnight. We crashed and slept hard at Uncle Don and Aunt Shirley’s. The next day was our cousin Devin's 41st birthday, so we stayed and celebrated with our family, sharing with them our experiences from the vacation. Aunt Shirley made pizza and we all ate until we were stuffed. The next day we said our tearful goodbyes and started the long trek home. We pulled up to the house just after five in the morning, fourteen days after we'd left.

It had only been two weeks, but all of us, myself, Mom, Loie, Maure and Debbie, felt that it was two of the best weeks of our lives, and we couldn't think of anyone we would have wanted to share it with more than we did each other.

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Group photo’s of our vacation