When the snowplows finally clear the highways leading into Yellowstone at the end of May, the all-too-brief period during which visitors can marvel at the splendor of the world’s first National Park begins. Each year three and a half million sightseers tour the nearly five hundred miles of twisting two-lane roads before snow once again closes the park at the end of October. And every year during this five-month window, year in and year out, perfect memories can be experienced and captured for a lifetime.
On any given day, visitors from all over the world witness hundreds upon hundreds of bison from the nation’s largest herd as they graze in the vast meadows in the southeast section of the park called the Hayden Valley. (Yellowstone is the only place in the United States where these shaggy beasts have lived continuously since prehistoric times.) Vacationers and park sightseers alike encounter both male and female Shiras moose feeding knee-deep in the pristine wetlands. And if they are lucky (as thousands are each year), a grizzly bear sighting can take place or even a fleeting glimpse of one of the recently reintroduced wild gray wolves frolicking with the members of its pack. The pronghorn antelope, the fastest land animal in North America, may even be observed running through the sagebrush at sixty miles an hour thereby exceeding the posted forty-five miles per hour maximum speed allowed on the park’s roads.
I well remember the first time I visited Yellowstone. (It was many years ago and long before I met Nancy.) I encountered a tangle of cars blocking both lanes in the northeast section of the park, just outside of Mammoth, Wyoming. Getting out of my car like everyone else, I viewed a bighorn sheep perched in the notch of a formation of jagged rocks jutting above the road. Balanced like a king on his throne, the bighorn’s grandeur was overwhelming. His eyes flashed like a shooting star, and I felt as if he was looking at me alone. He had eyes only for me. When he made a slow head motion resembling a nod before trotting down the far side of the rocks and out of sight, I knew deep inside me that I had discovered something that was both extraordinary and wondrous.
Later on during that very first early summer day in Yellowstone, I climbed up the gravel road to the summit and fire lookout of the 10,243-foot Mount Washburn. Near the top, I encountered a family of mountain goats, including two cute little twin kids with tiny white beards snuggling close to the furry warm body of their mother. Once again, I was utterly and totally enthralled.
Over the years, in addition to the larger animals that freely roam Yellowstone, I learned that almost everywhere in the park there are wild birds, including elegant great blue herons, magnificent trumpeter swans, sleek snowy egrets, and of course, magnificent bald and golden eagles. Common ravens and American crows join visitors in the campgrounds and picnic spots, along with least chipmunks and Uintah ground squirrels, all anxious for snacks from accommodating humans. Even though park rules discourage the feeding of animals, many do so anyway.
Memories of a solitary American white pelican with a cutthroat trout in his bill or two elk rutting to gain dominance in their herd during mating season have left an indelible and lifelong impression to this day. And I remember as if it were only yesterday once stopping to watch a one-ton bison scratch its back by dropping to the ground and rolling in the roadside sand directly to the right of my Subaru on a glorious, sunlit afternoon.
On that very first day so many years ago, by the time I had navigated nearly half the park, I fully awakened to the realization that I would never again wander very far from a place as hallowed as Yellowstone. (I have returned to Yellowstone almost annually from my home in Park City to rediscover the park’s natural beauty and wildlife that has for many years comforted me during difficult times.)
Often, I recall being mesmerized by Tower Falls, a 132-foot waterfall that plunges in a perfect column of water and splashes onto the rocks at its base in a triumphant deep roar heard loudly from the lookout hundreds of feet away. As one of the park’s largest of the 290 waterfalls that drop greater than fifteen feet, I remember once being momentarily frozen in reverence, time suspended as I watched the torrent flow powerfully downward amid the eroded rock pinnacles that frame the waterfall’s entire length. It was only when a young Belgian couple asked if I would mind taking their picture that I snapped back to the present. The couple smiled shyly when they explained they were on their honeymoon.
Rivers, small ponds, and lakes sitting below peaks as high as 11,358 feet are omnipresent, and these bodies of water amid the overlooking mountains provide a striking backdrop for Yellowstone Lake, the water jewel of the park. Its 130-square-mile surface area of deep, crystal-clear blue water can be enjoyed from the many overlooks along the road that snakes around its northern border.
Sitting above 7,000 feet in elevation, Lake Yellowstone is the country’s largest high-elevation lake. Though scenic and undeveloped in all directions, even in the middle of summer (fondly referred to by the park locals as “the viewing season” instead of the “mud season”), the water temperature barely reaches a high of fifty degrees, so forays into the lake generally last less than a minute. Flowing out of the lake is the largest river in the park, the Yellowstone River. On most days, this wide waterway courses lazily northward, providing a haven not only for the abundant migratory waterfowl but also to fly fisherman slowly and delicately casting to rising brown or rainbow trout.
Sixteen miles to the north of the lake, the Yellowstone River has carved out a canyon that is eight hundred feet deep and twenty miles long. The two major park waterfalls, the Upper and Lower Falls, are easily viewed from places aptly named Inspiration Point, Artist Point, and Red Rock Point. A short hike from the road leads to an observation deck that is directly adjacent to the edge of the Lower Falls. The canyon’s yellow and pink walls that are viewed from the deck vantage point led famous nineteenth-century painter Thomas Moran to proclaim, “Its beautiful tints [are] beyond the reach of human art.”
Years later, I still vividly recall that toward the end of that very first day when I observed the Yellowstone Grand Canyon from the “Brink of the Lower Falls” viewing area, I felt deeply humbled by the reality of being in a location with landscapes like no other. I am always reminded that I was filled with a broader and deeper awe than just seeing nature’s creatures. I opened my eyes wider, I breathed more deeply, and I felt warmth in my stomach. I imagined myself a pioneer exploring a newly discovered land, even though people armed with cameras, not old-fashioned rifles, surrounded me. I heard the gasp “Wow!” again and again as newcomers arrived at our viewpoint.
Throughout the park, I have learned over the years that there are forests untouched by logging, fields of subalpine and alpine wild flowers that grow without fear of future development, and a large variety of plants that grace the landscape in all directions and return each and every year with the turning of the seasons. There is even one forest made up entirely of petrified wood.
When the park was founded in 1872, the stated goal by the US Congress was “to create a park that [would] protect the natural magnificence of a unique area for future generations.” During the “viewing season,” the guests are truly sightseers experiencing Congress’s wish, as Yellowstone and its habitat welcome them to a vast wonderland, though they are welcomed only transiently. In this manner, Yellowstone National Park is timeless. Though nature does evolve and change, in the park it largely does so without the weighty influence of human hands.
For most people though, a visit to the park ultimately revolves around a singular unique aspect of Yellowstone National Park. The park contains 10,000 thermal features, fully half of those that exist on the planet. Yellowstone is the home of geysers and mud pots and fumaroles. Yellowstone is the ageless and ever-changing home of boiling hot springs and multicolored travertine terraces.
A trip to a thermal area at Yellowstone might include the strange smell of rotten eggs, the sound of boiling water far from any stove, or the glorious sight of water blasting high into the air powered not by a fountain but rather the closeness to the surface of the earth’s inner workings. The thermal areas awaken a different set of emotions than bison or jagged peaks; they are primal.
In the thermal areas, one is exposed to the immeasurable power of nature. Trees can be logged; rivers can be dammed; and animals can be captured, culled, or, in days long gone by, sadly exterminated. On the other hand, geysers emanate from the core of the planet and fumaroles spew steam over centuries not years.
For me, the park’s thermal features inspire (and will always do so) unadulterated veneration and a sense of joy that I rarely feel elsewhere—except when my beloved Nancy is in my arms or lays asleep not far from me late at night. Only then can I hear the soft, rhythmic sound of her steady, quiet breathing as she waits for me to join her. Together we’ll rise in the morning to face the day ahead—and all that a world filled with miracles and wonder will bring us.