I got my geyser fix this time, without going up to Old Faithful. The active forces of West Thumb Geyser basin were in full force, on the afternoon of July 18.
At the end of the show, there remained the blowhole, with promise of more, later.
The shores of Yellowstone Lake are known for attracting grizzly bears, during times of plentiful fish. I saw none, that afternoon, but the water itself was as inviting as the grand lake’s western counterparts. Here are some scenes of West Thumb.
The northwest and far north shores of Yellowstone Lake are bisected by the mouth of the Yellowstone River.
Even here, well east of the Geyser Basin, there is geothermal activity.
Once past the lake,there were still no bears, but there is Grizzly Peak.
There are also dunes, about a dozen or so.
The North Fork of the Shoshone River formed a border, of sorts, between Yellowstone and the more arid scenes of the North Absaroka Wilderness. It was running rather shallow on that Thursday evening.
Next: The Absaroka, Buffalo Bill State Park and Cody
Yellowstone, to me, has always meant a jaunt to Old Faithful. This time, though, I focused solely on the eastern portion of the park. My goal was to at least reach Greybull, in the north central area of Wyoming, by bedtime. There was plenty to see, hear, touch and smell. The area from Moose Falls to Cody Peak is as full of exquisite experiences as anywhere in the world. Between the south entrance and Lewis Lake, there are at least two herds of American bison.
The main thing about bison is- know that you, the human, are their favourite kind of throw toy. Get closer than 300 yards and you’d better be the Kipchoge Keino of your family. Bison bulls can haul it! Lewis Lake, and its neighbour, Shoshone Lake, are warm- bath water warm. The pine forest gave one of my fellow travelers the impression that Shoshone Lake would be quite cold. She dipped her foot in, ever so apprehensively, and gave a shout of joy, as she then immersed herself, full-on, in the humongous mineral bath. Here are some views of Lewis Lake. Note that the Teton Range stays with us, as a magnificent backdrop.
The lake is fed by the river of the same name. Both are named for Meriwether Lewis, commander of the early 19th Century expedition to the mouth of the Columbia River.
Shoshone Lake, named for the indigenous people who inhabited the area on all sides of the great parks, is nearly twice the size of Lewis. It also appeared to draw more swimmers.
These lakes call out: “Slow down and soak awhile”. Yet onward I go.
I passed through gleaming, clean-as-a-whistle Jackson, stopping briefly at the Visitors Center, to inquire about WiFi, so that I could check for messages from a friend. I was politely directed to the first Visitors Center in the Grand Teton region.
So, on I went, and learned later that I needed to hone both my intuition and my communications skills. Nonetheless, the scenery en-route is both a tonic for the soul and a challenge- as if the mountains are saying ” Do you think you are a seasoned hiker? Come play with us, big boy!”
The Tetons are formidable, but are punctuated by the meandering Snake River.
Little old me continued on the path to insight and enlightenment, though the wind made my t-shirt balloon out a bit.
The columbines, however, were not disturbed.
Grand Teton, though, is not a long park, north to south. I found myself in the behemoth that is Yellowstone National Park, in very short order.
My Yellowstone visit will be covered in three posts: The bison herds to Shoshone Lake;
West Thumb and Yellowstone Lake; The Absaroka and Buffalo Bill State Park.
I left happy, but with a strange feeling that something was amiss.
After leaving Afton, I pretty much stuck to the road- until I passed the tourist town of Alpine. Then, I reached the Grand Canyon of the Snake River. As with our Grand Canyon in AZ, Wyoming’s draws rafters by the busload. No matter; although hordes of tourists are a concern for conservationists, long-term, the presence of lots of other people has never bothered me much. I don’t go in for trinkets and mementos of a visit to a tourist mecca. I would buy things for my son, or for a certain special friend, but neither of them are very big on junk, either. So, I don’t stand in long lines much at all.
Jim Bridger, for whom the Bridger-Teton National Forest is partially named, along with the Teton Range of the Rocky Mountains, was a “mountain man” in these parts during the mid-19th Century. Every school child in Wyoming and Montana is sure to learn a fair amount about Jim and his close ties to the indigenous people of the northern Rockies.
The Snake and Gros Ventre Ranges, and the river itself, captivated the hordes of rafters, and me. The Gros Ventre show themselves on the south and east banks of the Snake River.
As the river broke through the heavy forest growth, at the raft and kayak put-ins, I walked down for some views of the grandest river in the northwest Rockies, save the Missouri.
A visitor from New Zealand called me over and pointed out some better views of the open flow. He is a home builder, by profession, and does his own architecture and design. The Renaissance Man lifestyle has not disappeared. In my afternoon years, with my sun still bright, I am always glad to meet such people and explore their views, much as I explore landscapes and build new friendships.
As he left to rejoin his “mates”, I enjoyed the views to which he was referring.
My mindset was healed somewhat by the magnificence. I look back on the hour or so that was spent here, just taking in the ambiance of the river and its mountain backdrop. The message is clear- “Gary, remember the song, ‘May It Be’, from The Lord of the Rings- ‘The promise is within you now’. “
There would be so much more- Promise, doubt, regrouping and fulfillment, as the quest continued.
Thursday, July 18, was a seminal day along my path of purification. It’s never easy to cast out one’s own demons, so to speak. Yet, if I did not accomplish this, I would well be casting some very special relationships adrift.
I woke early enough in Cokeville’s Hideout Motel to grab some breakfast from my cooler and a cup of in-room coffee, before setting off to check out some of the Bridger-Teton National Forest, en route to Afton, home of my friends, Derek and Sima Cockshut. This route goes through a tiny sliver of Idaho, between two large swaths of Wyoming. Here, we are back in the Rockies, in the far west of the Equality State.
These scenes are near Salt River Pass, which keeps Afton a bit isolated from southwest Wyoming, in the severity of winter.
It wasn’t long, though, before I spotted the comfy Main Street of this mountain paradise, and smelled fresh chocolate, at my friends’ shop.
The complex, on the west side of the main street in Afton, also features a Baha’i Faith Meeting Place, with a growing library, for independent study and reflection, a key tenet of our Faith
My friends are busy throughout the day, producing the fine chocolate which has traveled as far afield as Afghanistan and Europe, during the shipping season, of October- May. Calm, self-assured Derek, and effervescent, talkative Sima are a study in opposites, but they are opposites who have attracted for 45 years. I am honoured to have known these fine folks, off and on, since 1985. I also have an affinity for their several varieties of chocolate.
Across the street from Star Valley Chocolates, there are a Baha’i-owned floral shop and several other laid-back establishments. The Olympian, Rulon Gardner, and his family are Afton natives and have a signal presence here in the Star Valley.
I spent about thirty minutes here, as the day was proceeding at a faster clip. and much remained.
Next: The Bridger-Teton Express, Part 2- The Snake River Valley
I left the Rifle area and soon found myself in the delightful town of Meeker, which seems like a mix of counterculture and cowboy culture. Here I was able to catch up with the news of the road, at a small coffee shop.
The area between Meeker and Hamilton is prime ranch country. There are a few reservoirs, here and there.
Around noon, I came into Craig, northwest Colorado’s social and economic hub. Craig is more workaday than its more famous neighbour, Steamboat Springs, but has its share of culture. The regional museum is here.
In Carelli’s, a local pizza parlour, student art is proudly put on display.
The last major geological feature in northwest Colorado is collectively called Fortification Rocks. This is a memorial to both sides in the Moffat County Indian Wars.
A short ways up the road, I was pleased to be greeted by two hawks.
Colorado ran out of road, about 40 miles north of Craig, and I was fully in the Great Basin of Wyoming. It was while driving through here that a funk took over, I lost my grip on my emotions, I misstated my feelings towards one of the most beautiful women I have ever known, and I was into the first spiritual lesson of my trip, which has already been discussed ad nauseam, elsewhere. This is not Wyoming’s fault, or hers.
Baggs, the first town I entered in Wyoming, has a small museum, dedicated to the range land of the upper Great Basin.
After blazing through the cloudy, bleakness of the Red Desert, I reached Rock Springs, walked around the historic section of the old rail town and learned the consequences of my emotional outburst earlier in the day.
The scenes of Rock Springs are typical of rail hubs in the Mountain West. It is also a major player in both the coal and shale oil industries.
I could have easily stayed the night in Rock Springs, but the agenda for the following day included both Grand Teton and Yellowstone National Parks, and I needed to move on.
Passing Fossil Butte National Monument, I stopped to get a couple of views.
The night’s stop was in Cokeville, with supper at Blondie’s Diner, just before closing time. My tired countenance made me sport for a rather raucous individual, who seemed to be the town bully. I ignored his leers and jibes, and he left, with the teen boy who was his only audience, after about fifteen minutes. The meal itself was good enough.
Hideout Motel was needed that night, and was more than up to the task.
It occurred to me that my friend is far more of a woman, than I am a man. Yet there was a tomorrow and I would press on. This is a spiritual journey, and as in Star Wars, the only way is through.
The road from Nederland to Central City/Blackhawk leads up and over peaks that have some snow pack all year long.
They are the gateway to what is billed as “the richest square mile on Earth: Central City/Blackhawk. These towns are gambling meccas, so being an unventuresome sort, in that regard, I spent only about twenty minutes looking over the area’s historical treasures. Mountain City is a collection of preserved late 19th Century mining town structures.
Here is a view of Black Hawk’s main north-south street.
Although this area is billed as a tourist site, I did not get good vibes from the few locals I encountered, and so moved on to Glenwood Springs. My friend works for a school system in the Glenwood area. He introduced me to Yampah Vapor Caves, which gave me twenty minutes of deep breathing and cleansing. We then went over to his home in Rifle, some twenty miles west north west of Glenwood Springs.
Now it’s time to focus on all I have seen, since I left the blessed Front Range two weeks ago. I headed for Glenwood Springs, where my friend Mitchell Silas works during the week. After driving through Boulder Canyon, from Longmont, where I had spent the night after visiting my uncle and a friend, I stopped for lunch at Nederland, enjoying the fine buffet at Kathmandu Restaurant. Here are some scenes of Boulder Canyon, below the Falls.
Atop the canyon lies Nederland, a delightful town with several shops and restaurants, and Barker Meadow Reservoir.
Once well-fed at Kathmandu, with plentiful North Indian and Nepalese cuisine, I headed towards Central City, Black Hawk and Glenwood Springs.
Yesterday, the bunch of us piled into several cars, and headed first to The Delectable Egg, in Westminster, CO. This was our Birthday Brunch for the twin ladies. Melissa took excellent care of our large group, and we continued the fine conversations from last night.
Afterwards, five of us headed to Boulder, where we first went up to the Flatiron area, on Flagstaff Mountain. We got a fine view of UC- Boulder, below.
The twins and their men are thoroughly impressed with the view.
Our next stop was Boulder Canyon. The falls trail was closed, but we got some nice views from the fence, anyway.
The imp in me was sorely tempted to hop the fence and be photo’d inside the hole in the rock!
We capped a perfect outing with a visit to Pearl Street Mall, for ice cream, hot Puer tea, and an hour’s worth of browsing. A didgereedoo player added to the festivities, as did a bubble man and a violinist.
I found my old friends’ homestead with relative ease, on Friday morning. I had not been out to the community of Dinnebito (“Peoples’ Water”) in 21 years. It was therefore a blessing, when I received instructions on using a back way, that did not require going up and down what is little more than a jeep track over rocks. I stayed for two hours, enjoying talk on a variety of topics, from life in the South (First daughter is married and lives most of the year in Alabama) to the unruliness of some sheep.
After a simple, well-prepared lunch, courtesy of a visiting family from Oklahoma, I left my friends and headed northeast. The terrain of the Colorado Plateau, on the Navajo nation varies from sage and juniper-covered mountains to red sandstone formations, such as Round Rock and Castle Rock.
I made it past Four Corners, where Arizona, Utah, Colorado and New Mexico meet at a single point. Just on the New Mexico side of the line, an oil tanker truck had overturned, leading to a serious mess. Fortunately, it seemed the driver had escaped serious injury.
I stopped at Mancos, having dinner at Grand Cafe, and photographing a double rainbow.
After a much-needed night’s sleep, I got up at 5:30 AM, learned a friend’s situation that had been causing me consternation had been eased somewhat, and headed on up the road. A good breakfast at Junction Restaurant, in Pagosa Springs, CO led me to reflect that our young waitresses do try hard to make their patrons’ meals worthwhile. Both Brier, at Grand Cafe, Mancos and Kayla at the Junction were attentive and a joy to be around. I think I will continue “shoutouts” to people who work hard at this job that is not always so rewarding.
I had a pleasant drive through the spine of the Rockies, over Wolf Creek Pass, to Del Norte and then up Rte. 285, the “Gunshot”, which connects southern Colorado most directly with Denver. As today, I was able to enjoy relatively clear skies, I got some views of La Garita Range and the Collegiate Peaks, near Buena (pronounced “Beoona”) Vista.
I arrived in Northglenn in plenty of time to rest before my sisters-in-law were guests of honour at their *** birthday party. About twenty five guests made it a lively and enjoyable evening. Now, it’s time for bed, just about.
