Yellowstone to Yosemite: California Field Trip

This California girl traveled yesterday to her home outside of Yosemite for a week stay to spend time with her boyfriend (and dogs, cats and fish), hike in the Sierra high country, work on her tan, and consume as much ethnic cuisine as possible in six days. Ah, the delights of California!

When in Rome…for my vacation I secured the quintessential California auto for my travels: a Mustang convertible. And upon entering the California highway system from the Fresno airport, I immediately experienced another California standard: road rage. To calm my nerves, I stopped for a Jamba Juice, only to find the store closed. Undeterred, I plugged in my iPod, blasted U2 from the speakers, and headed to the hills.

I love my new life and job in Yellowstone, but along with my family, miss other aspects of my California life. The lack of swimming opportunities in Montana and Wyoming has definitely been a hard adjustment for me as I swam year-round in CA. A dip in a lake in Yellowstone would result in certain death after about twenty minutes, and the multitude of rivers in the area still rage with the ongoing snowmelt even in late July. So for my first excursion in CA, we took the dogs down to the Merced River for a swim. 

Victory for Yellowstone Wolves

Yesterday a federal judge halted the killing of the gray wolf—at least temporarily—by reinstating their protection under the Endangered Species Act. The Natural Resources Defense Council, The Center for Biological Diversity, Defenders of Wildlife, and other non-profit wildlife advocates successfully argued that the wolves had not met the set recovery goal, and that the state of Wyoming had failed to implement an adequate management plan to protect the species.

I celebrated with a toast of sake (having no champagne in the house). The slaughter of wolves once the protection was lifted in April was truly disturbing to watch. According to the NRDC, 106 wolves have been killed since then—at a rate of almost one a day.

When you consider the statistics, the rage against wolves is a bit perplexing. Only 1% of livestock losses are attributed to wolves—for example, in Montana only four sheep and thirty-six cattle were killed in 2006, and reimbursement programs by non-profits have been established to compensate for those losses. The NRDC website states that “a person in wolf country has a greater chance of being hit by lightning, dying of a bee sting or being killed in a vehicle collision with a deer than being injured by a wolf.”

Last year I hiked with a friend up the Lamar River Trail in Yellowstone. Out of the nearby forest rose the chorus of a wolf pack. As we listened to the musical howls, tears came to my eyes. We were in the presence of wildness, and were listening to what Aldo Leopold described as “an outburst of wild defiant sorrow, and of contempt for all the adversities of the world.”

Why are we so threatened by wolves and other predators? I understand they can be scary, injure people and livestock, and cause an occasional death, but so can automobiles and we certainly don’t advocate against the wholesale destruction of the car. Is our fear of death making us miss vital and beautiful (but perhaps not safe) experiences? I think so. And on that theme, I’ll end with another quote from Leopold from his affecting essay, “Thinking Like a Mountain.”

“We all strive for safety, prosperity, comfort, long life, and dullness. The deer strives with his supple legs, the cowman with trap and poison, the statesman with pen, the most of us with machines, votes, and dollars, but it all comes to the same thing: peace in our time. A measure of success in this is all well enough, and perhaps is a requisite to objective thinking, but too much safety seems to yield only danger in the long run. Perhaps this is behind Thoreau's dictum: In wildness is the salvation of the world. Perhaps this is the hidden meaning in the howl of the wolf, long known among mountains, but seldom perceived among men.”

You can read the full text of Thinking Like a Mountain at http://www.eco-action.org/dt/thinking.html

Mount Washburn

I invite you to join me on my amazing hike up Mount Washburn. The Anderson’s, in their book A Ranger’s Guide to Yellowstone Day Hikes, advise that, “If you can hike only one trail in Yellowstone, it should be Mount Washburn.” The authors also quote a description of the peak from a early park visitor:

"If I could only choose one sight in the wonderland, it would be, by all means, that view from the top of Mount Washburn for you see there the entire park spread out before you in a single picture."

On my drive to the trailhead, I rise over Dunraven Pass, awash with yellow flowers, and obtain a great view of the summit of Mt. Washburn. It’s original name might have been Elephant’s Back, but in 1870 the Washburn Expedition named it for General Henry Dan Washburn, leader of “one of the most important early explorations of Yellowstone,” according to Whittlesey’s Yellowstone Place Names. Dunraven Pass, 8,859 feet in elevation, bears the namesake of the First Earl of Dunraven, an Oxford educated man who was once guided in his explorations of the west by Buffalo Bill.

Early on my hike, I encounter a yellow-bellied marmot munching on a tree limb.

As I turn a corner, I see the Lookout Tower on the summit of Washburn. I also pass bouquets of the exquisite Sky Pilot gathered among the volcanic rocks.

At the top of Mt Washburn, 10,243 feet, I gaze at the spectacular 360 degree view of the park.

The Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone

Hayden Valley and the Grand Tetons in the distance

While I munch on my Luna Bar, a herd of bighorn sheep--with several lambs--join me.

One bighorn ewe gazes at me inquisitively, perhaps wondering why I am munching on a chocolate bar when so many yummy grasses surround me.

A lamb considers me as well, as two others graze nearby.

Something catches an ewe’s attention, which turns out to be a mother and lamb running to catch up with the herd.

On the return trip, I stop to smell the flowers: paintbrush and silky phacelia

Yellowstone: Ursophile Paradise

“Bear are made of the same dust as we, breath the same winds, and drink of the same waters…” John Muir

I am an admitted ursophile (and I am not ashamed, Stephen Colbert!). As a young girl, I would gaze at wildlife encyclopedias with longing, and always dreamed of seeing grizzlies, black bears, polar bears, et al.

Bears frolic in large numbers over Yellowstone’s landscape, and my dreams have been realized—ten times over! I am in awe of being in such close proximity to these wondrous creatures, and it’s a rare week when I don’t see a bear.

Grizzly and black bears roam in Yellowstone—yet I’m not adept at quickly telling the difference between the two species. This beautiful young bear I saw munching on grass outside of Mammoth Hot Springs has large pointed ears, a flat nose in profile, and no distinct hump (yet the ruffled fur made it hard to tell)—all of which indicate a black bear. But as even the experts sometimes have a difficult time distinguishing between ursus americanus and ursus arctos horribilis, I would not rely on my judgment. Any bear experts out there—please advise if I chose wrongly.

Both bear species can live up to 30 years. About 150 grizzlies live in the park, as compared with 500 black bears. An adult grizzly, despite their bulky size (males weigh up to 700 lbs) might be seen running at a speed of 40 mph. Bears have a very diverse diet ranging from insects, to grasses, to trout. Both black bear and grizzlies also hunt and have been know to take down elk calves. When my parents visited in May, they had to evacuate a trail at Old Faithful as a grizzly had just killed a bison calf.

Yellowstone's Natural Bridge

Not far past the shores of Bridge Bay, I hiked up part of an old stagecoach road to see Yellowstone’s Natural Bridge. The trail is closed for most of the spring as grizzly bears like to congregate here to feast on the spawning cutthroat trout. Blue skies and a rainbow of wildflowers accompanied me on my hike, as well as my co-worker Sharon.

The bridge stands 40 feet above Bridge Creek, with a span of 30 feet across. The explorer F.V. Hayden discovered the bridge in 1871: “At one point…we found a most singular natural bridge…which give passage to a small stream.” According to Whittlesey’s Yellowstone Place Names, “the name Natural Bridge eventually slipped into capitalized form from Hayden’s use.”

Exfoliation–a term I am intimately familiar with from my time in Yosemite's rock fall prone terrain—helped form the natural bridge with rock left from a 140,000 year-old lava flow. An intrepid, lone spruce tree grows on the top of the bridge. In Yosemite, I've hiked to Indian Rock, near North Peak, one of Yosemite's rare natural arches.

After our hike, we had supper in the beautiful, rustic dining room at the Lake Lodge and took a stroll around the shore of Lake Yellowstone, encountering Canada geese and a few lone bison.

Andy

Andy, as I have named my pronghorn antelope buddy, is a regular fixture at my home near the north entrance of Yellowstone. When I run in the evenings, I often see him grazing near Roosevelt Arch. When I walk to my car to drive to work, I often say good morning to him as he naps nearby. This spring he displayed a long, black gash on his side that was probably the result of a tussle with another pronghorn buck, but it has since healed.

I relate to Andy. We both like solitary, peaceful time away from the herd, and naps in soft, grassy meadows. I also enjoy wheat grass shots, although he eats the roughage raw. I wonder if he likes human proximity or does he simply feel safer in our company? He has an enormous wilderness (Yellowstone is larger than Delaware and Rhode Island combined) to frolic in, so why hang out near my Toyota Prius and the park warehouse?

I’ve written before about pronghorns, but I love watching them as they look like they belong more appropriately on an African savannah outrunning lions. Indeed, no predator in Yellowstone can outrun them; once they reach maturity, they can attain speeds of up to 50 mph.

Yellowstone Grizzly Bears vs. Stephen Colbert!

“Bears are soulless, godless, rampaging killing machines.” Stephen Colbert

Despite Stephen Colbert’s cowardly and relentless campaign against bears, most of us want to know grizzly bears still roam in our wildlands.

In the past grizzlies inhabited a range that encompassed most of North American west of the Mississippi. Today, only 1,200 grizzly bears in Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, and Washington live in the lower 48 states. Almost half of those bears call the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem home.

The predicted effects of climate change in the Yellowstone area, however, bode ill for the survival of the grizzly. Much of the grizzly bear’s fall diet comes from the nutrient-rich whitebark pine seed.

A bark beetle that infests the tree has been eradicating whitebark pine forests at an alarming rate, mainly due to warming temperatures. In the past, colder temperatures kept the beetle infestations in check. Today, trees are dying at an unprecedented rate.

In the NRDC’s Losing Ground report, Dr. Jesse Logan warns, “We are witnessing the catastrophic collapse of high mountain ecosystems as a result of how people are changing the climate, and grizzly bears could end up paying the price.”

Be green. Don’t let Stephen win in his plight to eradicate grizzly bears. This is your challenge, America and the world! And Stephen, a real man would confront his fears and visit Yellowstone.

PS: Check out more about Stephen Colbert’s view on bears at the hilarious http://www.wikiality.com/Bears Wikality is “The Truthiness Encyclopedia.”

Perfect Storms

The wind wanders restlessly today, and its movement reminds me of the ocean of air above me. Currents and eddies, ripples and waves, swirl overhead, visible only when clouds betray their secret travels.

I’ve been working at my desk today, and enjoying the view of cumulus clouds gathering around Electric Peak, and of the wind rushing through my window, reminding me of the gathering storm outside. I am hoping for a natural firework’s show tonight, nature’s delayed Fourth of July celebration.

Nothing mesmerizes me as much as watching a thunderstorm. To some, storms are an annoyance, to others a danger—for me I am utterly admiring of such a terrible, beautiful force--as long as I am happily situated in a safe location!

When hiking the John Muir trail, I once got caught at 12,000 feet on Pinchot Pass when an unusual morning thunderstorm suddenly struck. I still remember the crackle in the air, my body hair standing up on end, and my ears ringing from what sounded like gunshots firing next to me. At that point is was all dependent on luck whether or not I survived.

Some fun lightning facts: Over 8.6 million lightning strikes hit the ground each day (which works out to 100 strikes per second). The temperature of a lighting bolt can also reach a level five times hotter than the surface of the sun. A bolt can also travel up to 7 million mph. All of these speak to the awesome force one witnesses when gazing a thunderheads on the horizon.

One last fun weather fact for the day: Montana holds the US record for weather extremes. The highest temperature in Montana was recorded today in 1937, while in January of 1954 a record 70 below zero registered on the thermometer. The range of 187 degrees between the two extremes is the largest in the United States.

I do not have enough photographic skill to capture lightning (that requires knowledge of foreign concepts like apreture and shutter speed), but I've included photos of some of my favorite storms.

Geyser Gazing

This evening I explored the Upper Geyser Basin and wandered among the colorful cyanobacteria—the creatures responsible for the vibrant hues in the thermal features.

While witnessing all of this volcanic activity, it occurred to me how strong our notion is of the ground beneath our feet being solid and secure. A trip to Yellowstone quickly debunks that view---the earth’s restlessness never ceases below us, but in Yellowstone we’re allowed to peer beneath the surface to an underworld of fire.

Castle Geyser: The mineral cone formed over thousands of years. Castle has a reputation for being unpredictable, as T. Scott Bryan observes in his book The Geysers of Yellowstone, “When we talk about the personalities of geysers, Castle heads the list. It has been known to undergo at least four different types of eruptions.”

Sawmill Geyser: A fountain-type geyser with eruptions that can produce a burst of water up to 35 feet in height.

Chromatic Pool: A lesson in thermal features—geysers are characterized by a broken, underground plumbing system. The water’s path becomes constricted, heat cannot escape, and the pressure increases until critical mass is reached.

Hot springs resemble geysers in principle, but lack the broken plumbing; water flows freely to the surface to release heat. Chromatic may lack the showy plume of a geyser, but the striking color more than compensates.

Anemone Geyser: Growing up near the ocean, I loved seeing Yellowstone’s version of one of my favorite sea-creatures. The color and texture of its sinter (the deposits surrounding the geyser) truly does resemble a true anemone’s pink and orange bulbous tentacles.

Hellroaring Creek Trail

How could I pass up exploring an area with such an enticing name? The origin of the title, however, has no ties to Hades. According to Yellowstone Place Names, a prospector on a hunting trip in 1867 reported back to his group that the next stream was “a hell roarer.”

The beginning of the trail descends through a Douglas fir forest until it reaches the Yellowstone River. A sturdy suspension bridge spans the Black Canyon of the Yellowstone, and the river underneath rushes fiercely through the rock walls, perhaps angry at being confined to so small a space.

Velvety green rolling hills welcomed me once I climbed out of the river canyon, and the distinct Hellroaring Mountain dominated the landscape as I headed toward the creek. Hellroaring Mountain belongs more appropriately in my Yosemite world—it’s one of the rare peaks in the park composed of granite; indeed it’s Yellowstone’s largest granite outcropping. Most of Yellowstone’s peaks display rock formed from surface volcanic eruptions.

Hellroaring Creek definitely lived up to its name. The mighty waters surged toward their destination and I was very glad I did not have to ford the creek. Instead, I picked a comfortable spot on the soft grass near the banks of the creek, and watched butterflies flutter from wildflower to wildflower.

The Rainbow Connection in Yellowstone

Truly a spectacular weather watching evening. A thunderstorm raced into Yellowstone and painted the sky with a spectrum of color. I watched the landscape and sky change from blue to gold to black to pink. And as if the cloud's display of color wasn't enough of a delight, a magnificent rainbow suddenly appeared to complete the scene.

A quote from the excellent book, The Rainbow Bridge: Rainbows in Art, Myth, and Science seems appropriate:

"But why should not the glorious Rainbow be included among the gods? It is beautiful enough, and its marvellous loveliness has given rise to the legend that Iris is the daughter of Thaumas [the Greek god of wonder]. And if the rainbow is a divinity, what will you do about the clouds? Cicero

Storm Over Electric Peak

Cumulus clouds have been building almost every afternoon for two weeks near my home, but not until today did I get to watch a true thunderstorm. Electric Peak finally lived up to its name---streaks of lightning danced over the peak amidst a dark grey backdrop of storm clouds.

Last week on a trip to Bozeman I found a treasure in a used bookstore--the book Montana Weather: From 70F Below to 117F Above. For a weather junkie like me, this was a great find. Published in the early 1980s, the book has numerous delightful chapters including: Montana Twister, Surviving West Yellowstone in Winter, and Great Falls' Wonderful, Winterless Winter (where I wish I could relocate after this winter!).

According to the book, "the soldiers who manned old Fort Yellowstone used to say that 'in Yellowstone there are only two seasons, winter and July.'" That's certainly been the case this year!

March of the Bison

On the way home from Old Faithful today, my co-workers and I witnessed a lengthy line of cars that stretched nearly five miles past the Madison junction; in Yellowstone this is referred to as the infamous “bison jam.” A large herd of bison marched confidently on the paved road, some peering curiously through our car windows as they passed. The calves--some just beginning to sprout the first sign of horns--trotted and played among the adults.

It’s been fun watching the once small calves develop these past few months. The small buds of horns are now showing, and they are developing muscles, most notable in the shoulder region. According to the NPS’s publication Yellowstone Resources and Issues 2008, the bison’s “massive hump supports strong muscles that allow the bison to use its head as a snowplow in winter, swinging side to side to sweep aside the snow.”

Lake Yellowstone

Old Faithful may be the most popular part of Yellowstone, but it's tough to beat the Lake Yellowstone area for spectacular scenery. Yellowstone Lake, the largest lake in North America over 7,000 feet in elevation, is 20 miles long by 14 miles wide, and its deepest spot is 410 feet. Numerous mountains, such as Avalanche Peak, guard its lengthy shores, and its waters create a blue sky on the ground.

Although regular readers of this blog may recall my fondness for swimming high mountain lakes (Tenaya Lake in Yosemite for one), I won't be freestyling in Lake Yellowstone anytime soon--due to its extremely cold water, I would have a survival time of about 30 minutes.

Scientists have been surveying Lake Yellowstone since the late 1990's. While mapping the bottom of the lake, they have discovered some spectacular features similar to hydrothermal structures found in the deep ocean. One such type of feature is the spire, a silica structure formed by the cooling of hydrothermal fluids rising from the lake bottom. The US Geological Society estimates that some of the spires may be more than 11,000 years old.

Beaver Ponds Trail

John Muir is a ubiquitous presence in Yosemite and I often joked about the world not needing another John Muir book when I worked there. Yet he remains one of my heroes and his voice has followed me to Yellowstone. When he visited the park in 1885, he described the landscape I traveled along today: “beaver meadows are outspread with charming effect along the banks of the streams, parklike expanses in the woods, and innumerable small gardens in rocky recesses of the mountains...while the whole wilderness is enlivened with happy animals.”

My footsteps carried me along a series of forests and grasslands in the Mammoth Hot Springs area that passed by several small beaver ponds. Although I was not lucky enough to see beavers, I did observe their handiwork of impressive dams.

The wildflowers dared to blossom today, perhaps finally sensing the end of winter (I hope!) and I encountered larkspur, primrose, balsamroot, woodland star, and many other colorful flowers I could not name. I have to admit to using my friend Jack's Laws Field Guide to the Sierra Nevada to help identify some species--his book is just easier to use and I never tire at looking at his beautiful illustrations.

A mother duck and her ducklings paddled along the water on one pond. I also found some large wolf tracks, but saw no wolves. Two mule deer munched on grass in a small forested alcove, and clark's nutcrackers loudly alerted me to their whereabouts.

In one of those “it’s a small world encounters,” a family stopped me on the trail to alert me about a bear and her two cubs playing ahead; the family turned out to be Chip and Laurie Jenkins and their two boys, who I worked with in Yosemite. Last week at the new Canyon Visitor Center, I met a past employee of mine from Yosemite as I gazed at the wonderful new exhibits. In the national park community, it truly is a small world.

At the end of my hike, I stopped quickly as this incredibly long snake slithered across the trail. At first I though it was the biggest rattlesnake I had ever seen, but I later found out from my guidebook this is a common mistake. I had encountered pituophis catenifer sayi (common name bull snake), Yellowstone’s largest reptile, which can grow up to six feet.

Sunbathing Bison

Springtime redux. After two weeks of daily snowfall, the sun decided to make an appearance and there was much rejoicing. Green suddenly reappeared on the landscape, the color almost blinding to eyes used to pale white dreariness.

As we drove into the Upper Geyser basin, we encountered a bison herd along the Firehole River enjoying the sun’s warmth. A bison calf strolled on the velvety grass, looking a bit dazed. Perhaps this was his first glimpse of the sun given the long winter we've experienced.

Death in Yellowstone

During my five-day trip around the park, Death in Yellowstone, by Lee Whittlesey provided my bedtime reading. Some may consider this subject matter morbid; I’m reading it as a self-defense manual in order to increase my chances of survival during my hiking excursions (and to be honest, I also like reading about humans acting stupidly—I love those Darwin awards!)

The section on “death in hot water” held some surprises for me. I always assumed that a fall into a geyser or hot spring brought immediate or at least a quick death. Unfortunately, being boiled alive can be a slow process, with some victims lingering for weeks. As Whittlesey states: “One of the scariest things about falling into a hot spring is realizing that one could indeed remain fully conscious for many painful hours while awaiting death.”

Yellowstone has over 10,000 geysers with temperatures that can reach up to 205F. I’ll look forward to exploring them this summer, but from a safe distance. Despite the ongoing cold and snowy weather, I will resist taking a dip.

I just started the bison versus humans chapter—I certainly nominate the person who put his child on the back of a bison for a photograph for the Darwin awards!

Winter of my Discontent

Ah, Yellowstone in springtime! Two weeks of daily snow. Even the bison seem annoyed with the weather, which is disrupting their dining--grass does not grow very well under snow. I've been driving around the park with a team of co-workers, touring the various locations working on environmental projects. So when the snow started accumulating, the logical thing to do was have a snowball fight!

Bunsen Peak & Sheepeater Cliffs

Spring decided to make an appearance today in Yellowstone and I relished the intermittent sun peaking through the rapidly forming cumulus clouds. I climbed Bunsen Peak (8,564 ft), and my feet traveled over rocks some geologists think are 50 million years old and the remnants of an ancient volcano. The 360-degree view from the top proved to be quite spectacular and the horizon revealed a number of mountain ranges including the Gallatin, Washburn, and what I think might have been the Grand Tetons.

As I noted in a prior entry, Bunsen peak is named for the German physicist Robert Wilhelm Bunsen, who invented the Bunsen burner. His scientific work on geysers contributed greatly to their study, but he never actually visited Yellowstone.

The name Sheepeater Cliff at first struck me as something out of a horror movie, but I later learned the designation refers to the Sheepeater Indians, or “Tukudeka,” the only Native Americans thought to spend the entire year in Yellowstone. According to Anderson’s great guidebook, A Ranger’s Guide to Yellowstone Day Hikes, “there’s evidence that the Tukudeka herded bighorn sheep off steep cliffs.”

On my hike along Sheepeater Canyon and the Gardner River, I met three Israeli young men who were traveling on a five-month road trip in North and South America. We hiked together for the last few miles and I enjoyed their company. Two of them had just finished their military service and were taking this trip before beginning university.

One of my companions asked me, “aren’t you scared hiking alone in grizzly country?” My answer was yes. During my hike today, I exhausted my entire repertoire of U2, Eagles, Beatles, and Counting Crow songs. At some point I wondered if a grizzly offended by my poor musical ability would attack me, so I switched to reciting T.S. Eliot and Yeats poetry. Nothing like a recitation of “The Second Coming” to put the potential of being mauled into perspective. For the record, I do realize hiking alone in grizzly country is risky, but solitary wandering is one of my joys in life.

By the way, if you want to see some stunning photography of Yellowstone by a talented artist, visit http://www.travelsinbearcountry.com/index.html