May 28, 2019
How To Write an Opening to Each Yellowstone Trip Report:
1) Mention what time you woke up/hit the road.
2) Mention the weather.
3) Mention how slow the Lamar Valley is.
Only four hours of sleep before the alarm went off, and maybe this sluggishness contributed to a delayed departure. The goal on Tuesday was to head south again, but I wasn’t out the door until 5:15 [√]. It was already getting light, so it was easy to see that our damp Monday was well in the rear view mirror [√].
Though the Lamar looked better on this morning, it remained quiet [√]. A low blanket of fog was draped over the valley, obscuring the ridgelines and any views of distant peaks. About halfway through the valley I could just peek under the edge of the foggy blanket southward to clear skies beyond. It was looking as though a pretty nice day was in store.
Just past Lamar Canyon, folks were setting up scopes and tripods. I thought maybe wolves were in sight, but it was actually a trio of grizzly bears, a little ways up the north hillside. Just a bit too far for photos, and I had a potential appointment with another grizzly family further south anyway.
Things cleared up in Little America, but once I got onto Dunraven Pass is was as if Mt. Washburn felt cold and pulled that foggy blanket back over itself. Suddenly I couldn’t see more than 15 yards ahead on the road. Creepy elk head silhouettes peeked and bobbed above the roadside sage as I slowly drove up.
Finally, I broke free of the mist and was soaking in golden morning light. The wide swaths of pines north of the pass were glowing with a yellow tinge. It was a totally different feel from my silvery blue morning just a couple days before.
I was running behind, so I kept hoping to get a text from a friend, letting me know if I should bother to head west. We had agreed to possibly look for the grizzly bear family that’s been attracting attention over there, but knowing it would take me longer reach the area, I was hoping for some reaffirmation before committing to a western route.
The west side of the park feels like a foreign land to me. At one point I caught myself daydreaming about where I had placed my passport, so they could let me into Western Yellowstone. The west is also like a desert: vast stretches of terrain seemingly devoid of animal activity (dense tree cover makes spotted incredibly difficult), marked by an occasional oasis of life. This grizzly bear and her two little cubs occupied one such oasis the previous day, and the hope was they’d still be around on Tuesday.
Still no word from my contacts, so I committed to driving west toward Norris. Many times over the years I’ve expressed how tedious the Canyon-Norris drive can be. Thankfully, it’s short. But I still hoped like heck that those bears were around, because doing that drive twice in quick succession is a painful way to waste morning prime time.
I reached Norris and turned north, keeping an eye out for any little pockets of real estate housing bears. I started to see photographers I recognized driving in the opposite direction. Not a good sign… people could be moving on to other things. I wasn’t feeling particular good about my choice as I drove by a familiar vehicle. I recognized the driver… hey, it was the car that had pulled up next to me on Monday–“Hi Max!”–containing Someone-Other-Than-My-Cabin-Guests.
So I pulled over. Finally, a chance to apologize for the previous day’s mix-up. It turned out Liz and Mark follow my work online, and remembered me from a past bear sighting. We chatted a bit and then parted, each ready to continue our grizzly search. Before I could pull out though, a raven plopped onto the railing next to my car, so I rolled down my window to snap some close-ups. After all, I’m the last person to pass up a raven photo op.
Then I saw Liz running up to my car, exclaiming “they’re out!”
Continue reading the trip report from the last (exciting) three days in the blog.
Max