A park ranger telling the story of a thousand year-old tree around a campfire in Rocky Mountain National Park inspired my passion for national parks. Although I did not realize my childhood dream of becoming a park ranger, I have been lucky to work in roles that support our national parks.
During my time in Yosemite, I learned an enormous amount from the dedicated interpreters who were so generous about sharing their love for the park—Dick Ewart, Dean Shenk, Margaret Eissler, Erik Westerlund… and many more. Thank you for teaching me so much about Yosemite!
Of course all that knowledge is useless now—my decade of Yosemite-oriented study counts for nothing in Yellowstone. I have to start from scratch. And what better way to learn than by attending a ranger-led walk!
After donning about eight layers of clothes, I ventured outside in twenty-degree weather to the Mammoth Hot Spring Terraces—the northern part of the park’s most active geothermal area.
While Yosemite’s geology and landscape centers around solid granite batholiths, Yellowstone’s terrain is all about volcanic activity—steaming, colorful hotsprings and geysers. Indeed, Yellowstone is known as a geologic hotspot—an area where hot molten rock rises to the surface. Lurking under this park is a vertical plume of hot rock 125 miles in depth. (Sorry, Mom, this does mean I am living next to an area that could blow sky high at any moment!)
Robert Smith and Lee Siegel open their book, Windows into the Earth: The Geologic Story of Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks, with a quote from an early scientist that captures the landscape perfectly:
“Anyone who has spent summers with the pack-train in a place like Yellowstone comes to know the land to be leaping…The mountains are falling all the time and by millions of tons. Something underground is shoving them up.”
Our park ranger for the day, Debbie, took her party of two intrepid students (myself and a woman from Texas) on a delightful two-hour walk on the terraces. She gave a great introduction to winter survival strategies and the formation process behind the terrace development.
Halfway through the hike, snowflakes began falling, yet the whiteness in both land and sky lent this already surreal landscape an even more mystical quality. Elk grazed on uncovered grass near thermal pools, rising steam disappeared into the falling snowflakes, and a highway of animal tracks decorated the snow.
At Orange Springs Mound, we saw evidence of nature asserting her authority. The water flow had shifted from the top of the mound to the side, and the water had begun running down the asphalt road, leaving mineral deposits to color the pavement. Two park geologists were checking out the site when we arrived. As this is a popular road in the summer, the water’s route is problematic, but I think the beautiful oranges and greens left by the bacteria and algae are works of art.
For Pete Devine---You will be so proud of me!!! On our walk, a park visitor asked the ranger what bird call we were hearing, and I said without evening thinking, “that’s a clark’s nutcracker.” And I was right!
Note--although Pete's not an official national park ranger, he's also an interpreter I learned an enormous amount from--thank you, Petey, and watch out for the buttoned shirts.
The northern range of Yellowstone has been dubbed by many the "American Serengeti" due to both the quantity and diversity of the wildlife. And I live right in the prime winter range of this area--creatures venture in my frontyard searching for forage at the lower elevations. I will miss my neighbors in the summer when they head for higher ground as I am now used to an assortment of animals greeting me when I open my door. See photo at right--that's my house and black Subaru amidst the bison, pronghorn and mule deer traffic!
Today I hiked up the Rescue Creek Trail in search of bighorn sheep. I always hoped to see these delightful creatures in my wanderings in the Sierra high country, but the nearest I came was finding their scat on a hike up the Granite Divide. I've been lucky enough to see the bighorn twice since I've been in the park, but they're the one ungulate that doesn't frequent my front yard. 
In just a five minute walk from my house, I arrived in a beautiful basin over 6,000 feet. I stopped frequently to scope out the ridge with my binoculars, and to watch the elk and pronghorn I encountered. I climbed up Rattlesnake Butte for a view of the Yellowstone River canyon, and tried to create an interesting backstory for the adjacent Turkey Pen Peak. For fifteen minutes I stood and observed two resting pronghorn antelope, but the bighorn sheep remained elusive.
