Mammoth Hot Springs

The north entrance to Yellowstone National Park was so close to my hotel that I could easily have walked there—across the state line, into Wyoming. I considered doing that, to buy my entrance pass, but I arrived early enough in the afternoon that there was ample time to start exploring.

My hotel was right on the Yellowstone River. My hopes of drifting off to sleep to the sound of rushing water were dashed by thick smoke from multiple fires burning within the park—best to keep the windows closed.

The guide books counsel that most park visitors never stray off the boardwalks, if they do get out of their vehicles at all; words to the wise for those who wish to avoid the crowds.

But then they caution that you should always hike in groups of three or more people, make lots of noise, and carry bear spray. [So go figure.]

Sadly, looks like it will be the boardwalks and crowded vistas for me. I am a group of one, not three. A canister of bear spray costs $50 (and you can neither ship it nor carry it with you on a plane). The locals hike with guns, not bear spray. Think about it: If the bear didn't smell you, you're downwind of the bear. If you're downwind of the bear, who's gonna get end up getting sprayed?

I stopped at the nearest visitor center, part of the Mammoth Hot Springs Historic District. The lush green lawns attract elk, the elk attract people. The people were pretty well-behaved; the animals seemed unconcerned. Especially as they clustered around the red signs posted: Danger, do not approach animals.

Parking looked chaotic closer to the hot springs. What's a little more walking, after biking some 500 miles? I left the car where it was.

I wandered around the boardwalks, up and down, fascinated by the features of the various hot springs. By the time I was done, I'd covered about three miles.

Yellowstone sits within a giant volcanic caldera, and these places where the planet gives us a hint of the molten, super-heated layers within are humbling. Day to day we go about our business on terra firma, all too easily forgetting that we're not simply spinning around the sun on a solid chunk of rock.

The smoke contributed a post-apocalyptic feel, and colored the sunset.

The crowds thinned out at the upper levels, above the travertine terraces. [Climb stairs? At altitude?] A boy ran ahead of his parents. “This is tiring!” he complained to me. I laughed; he looked to be all of four years old.

Unintentionally, my timing was spot on. Colors were intense in the early evening light, and families headed for dinner.

Dining options in Gardiner hadn't looked exciting, so I chose a bison burger before leaving the park. [Indistinguishable from beef, to my tastebuds.]

Looking forward to a full day, tomorrow.