Scopin'

My dad packed up his old scope and mailed it to us last week. The scope, along with this incredible BBC series that Stella and I streamed on Netflix, had me itching to go to Yellowstone. So on Saturday, off we went.

The Northeastern entrance of Yellowstone is an hour and fifteen minutes from our house.

The formidable arch at the Gardiner, Montana, entrance to Yellowstone

The drive to Yellowstone is no less gorgeous than much of Yellowstone itself; in fact Yankee Jim Canyon, which is just outside the park, is one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen. It's got a great, classic American entrepreneurial story too:

Yankee Jim Canyon was named for an enterprising pioneer named "Yankee Jim" George, who built a cabin at the mouth of the canyon in 1872. Yankee Jim charged a toll to anyone wanting to use the narrow road through the canyon. Since this was the main route to Yellowstone Park, the ex-miner had constructed a veritable "gold mine." Like St. Peter guarding the pearly gates, Yankee Jim became known as the guardian of Yellowstone Park. He was such a character that famous people (including Teddy Roosevelt and Rudyard Kipling) often stopped to visit him. Kipling respectfully called the yarn-spinning Yankee Jim "the biggest liar I ever met."

Often as I'm driving in, I think about how Yellowstone's boundaries seems arbitrary. How did they decide where to draw the line? I know that much of the decision was determined by the edges of the massive caldera that is Yellowstone. A caldera is basically the shallow hollow at the top of a volcano that appears after it blows its top, and Yellowstone lies atop one of the biggest sleeping volcanoes around.

As we drove into the park this time, Chris and I contemplated why things feel so different once you're in the park as opposed to just outside the gates. There's something about knowing that everything you see is protected that feels so solid and endless. Also, I love thinking about how universal the landscape's impact is on people: it's so unique and captivating that it inspired the very notion of a national park.

Anyway, all these lofty thoughts were kept in check by cries for snacks, flying stuffed animals, lost gum, you know, the aural flotsam and jetsam of little people.

On our way to the Lamar valley, we ran across a herd of elk relaxing in the old army town at Mammoth hot springs:

A few minutes into the Lamar, which took about an hour to reach, we were surrounded by buffalo.

And the scope came out for it's maiden Yellowstone voyage:

Bunny looked first.

Thanks, dad! What a fantastic gift.

We spent an hour chilling with the buffalo and chatting with some local wolf experts. We traded stories about the wolf packs of Yellowstone and the spirit bears of the Great Bear Rainforest, which they longed to see. Protecting the Great Bear Rainforest is one of the reasons why my organization, ForestEthics, exists. It's been part of my work for a decade, though I've only been able to visit once, and it felt so good to make a connection to it right there in Yellowstone. So good.

The Spirit bear (a white black bear, but not albino.)

Later, we relaxed on the Lamar river while Chris fished for a bit.

The Lamar

 

Genuine buffalo patty.

The drive home was long. I really appreciated my little people indulging me in my Yellowstone fantasy. Who knows if they will even remember the trip? I know I will.