The drive itself was fairly uneventful. Long hours spent in the truck, listening to good tunes, watching the land go by. Through the boarder and into Washington State the landscape didn’t really change that much from the south Okanagan, and as we moved east past Grand Coulee, we past the best city sign I have ever seen, Electric City. Incidentally, it was near the Grand Coulee Dam, so I suspect the name was derived as a result of the dam construction. Moving east toward Spokane, huge agricultural fields dominated the landscape, reminding us of southern Alberta.
Spokane is a beautiful city. Both Dee and I were impressed with its layout, greenspace, and the relative compactness of it. In comparison to other cities in similar flat land geographies, it had little sprawl, had a vibrant and urban downtown core with some great pubs and restaurants that littered the main streets and back allies. So many of the buildings had interesting historical architecture, and were made of rich red brick.
We camped at the Riverside State Park, just 10 mins out of downtown. It was natural, quiet and secluded. The best part of it all was that we arrived, threw up our tent and took off for dinner and a movie. We returned late that evening and went straight to bed, only to rise early and take off into town to look for breakfast. That meant that we had free camping :)
We drove to Bozeman MT that evening, passing through various landscapes on the way. Most of the places we made pit stops at were pretty, or had elements that were stunning. The street trees in the mature districts of Mezula were fantastic with bright orange and yellows, which when pitted against the historic brick buildings were dramatic.
Finally arriving in Yellowstone we were greeted by mountain sheep near the entrance, and formally welcomed by the resident Elk of Mammoth when we visited the Ranger Station for information.
We visited the Mammoth Hot Springs, which much to our chagrin were not bathing hot springs. Still, the boardwalk provided with an opportunity to stretch our legs for the first real time in a couple days. I hope that I managed to get some decent photographs, though I am rather skeptical of my ability at the moment.
Steaming buffalo sleeping off the frosty morning, lounged by the side of the road on our way to the Lamar Valley. Stands of blackened lodge-pole pine stood guard on the hillsides, like soldiers; unaware that the battle had long ago ended, and they had lost. The mountains wore a cloak of smoke and fog that they gently shrugged off as the valley opened. The gatekeeper – an imposing buffalo, eyed us from the middle of the road and challenged us to a game of chicken. After a few nervous minutes watching him approach the truck to within 5 feet of the drivers door, we decided that we were the chicken in this game and swerved around him. As we entered Lamar, the valley opened her arms with sunshine to welcome us. We gathered with others at the side of the road to set up our spotting scope, unsure of what everyone was looking at. First there was one, who then grew to three wolves gorging themselves on last nights kill. While they tore through flesh and blood, we enjoyed a nice bowl of Raisin Bran and Special K.
By the end of the day the magic of Lamar began to fade, as the abundance of animals began to feel more like a game reserve and less like a natural habitat. At dusk, we looked to have dinner with the wolves, but were unable to find them again. We had to be satisfied with memories of them, and the buffalo, antelope, coyote, and grizzly that had allowed us to spend the day with them.
On Sunday we decided to try heading south. We had exhausted our wildlife viewing in Lamar, and didn’t want to head the 30 miles back into the valley to face the prospect of a day without seeing the abundance of wildlife we had seen the day before. Additionally, as a result of the Antelope Fire that was burning near by, we had done most of the hikes that were open to the public in the valley.
We headed south via Tower Roosevelt and Canyon Ridge. Just past Tower Roosevelt we pulled to the gathering area known as the Devil’s Den. A collection of people was gathered at the top of a retaining wall (about 8ft tall), and we approached expecting elk or Bison. Much to our surprise we were watching a large black bear grazing on berries about 15 feet away from us. As he moved around he approached us and came within about 6 feet of us, though there was the retaining wall providing an extra buffer. He passed below us and then climbed the hill beyond the end of the retaining wall. I think his contract with the Ranger Service had expired and he was no longer getting paid for the day, so off to slumber under a tree for the rest of the day.
As we continue south we got great perspective of the Antelope Fire, and hiked Mt. Washburn to the fire lookout. As we readied for the hike and shortly after we summitted we were buzzed by a helicopter at each location. It was a pretty cool experience. The hike, while it was situated on a decommissioned road, was uphill the whole way, felt great as for the first time in days we got to really stretch our legs and get our hearts pumping.
We arrived at or final destination, Madison Campground, in the early afternoon. Feeling dirty and stinky from not bathing for a few days and doing the Mt. Washburn hike, our first point of order was to try and find showers, but none were provided at the campground. We had dipped our feet in a couple of the streams farther north, and knew after 30 seconds in the water it started to burn with cold. Still the stench was too much to allow into the tent, so we decided to grin and bear it and found our selves a little watering hole in the Gibbon River. As we anxiously entered the water, the temperature, much to our elation, was almost warm. I suspect as a result of the geysers that spewed hot water into the river upstream. Our bathing turned into a full on naked wallowing in the river while we sudded up. Stench gone, check, skinny dipping in Yellowstone, check.
We then went to explore this end of the park. Elk were abundant, and the setting sun provided beautiful soft light for photography. We got to see the Elk enjoying the river, and as darkness fell we were gathered watching the bull elk assemble his herd. Some stupid tourists, not us, got caught between the cows and the bull while trying to get the best picture possible. All ended well, though I am sure that those three had wet pants after the cows nudged them out of the way and against some sharp branches on a deadfall tree.
Monday morning started off with a trip to see the fabled Old Faithful geyser. While spectacular, the calm wind left the steam cloud to shroud the water eruption. After watching the show, we decided to mount our bikes to get those muscles activated and see the park a little faster than if we were walking. Unfortunately for us, Yellowstone is not a bike friendly place, and heavily restricts bike movement on the trails. We still managed to see everything, but it was a combined bike/walk to many of the geysers. We found it to be hilarious that the mountain bike trails the rangers explained as “primitive trails” were wide gravel paths with little or no elevation changes. The trails were less technical than those found on the Mission Creek Greenway.
We decided to try an afternoon hike to Fairy Falls, which turned out to be one of the most boring hikes in the history of hiking. A wide gravel decommissioned road, followed by a 2 metre wide gravel pathway through dense forest led to the falls. The falls themselves were nice, but as we looked up to their headwaters we noticed the black, ominous clouds overhead. After a quick viewing we bucked ‘re back towards the parking lot. About a third of the way back the heavens opened to a true down pour. Within seconds we were soaked. We approached the truck, to find the sun come and provide warmth on the last kilometer of our 10 km hike. I have never smelt so bad in my life. Apparently my pants did not like getting wet and then drying. At first I blamed Dee, but when she claimed innocence, I turned to inner reflection, and was horrified to learn that I was the source. As a result of the unpredictable weather we headed straight to the Old Faithful Inn for a proper cleaning. The Inn itself was one of the most beautiful buildings I have ever entered. Built in the winter of 1903, just for the additional challenge, the inside was crafted completely from matching logs. It must have taken weeks to find lumber of that size and of similar shape.
After a wet night and a threatening forecast we decided to head south to the desert. It never rains in the desert right?
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