My favorite Christmas took place in West Yellowstone, Montana. My husband and I took my daughter to snowmobile Yellowstone National Park. Sixteen, curly, honey-blonde, lightly-blemished, a new driver, full of the cockiness of youth, exuding the air of boredom that only a teenager exhibits when confronted with unfamiliar circumstances.
We procured a room upon arrival, the Best Western, abandoning our habit of driving into the night, and sleeping in the car, in a bear-threatened campground. We walked the tiny town, amid parka, polar fleece, wool, and boot-wearing tourists, browsing souvenir shops and dodging sports utility vehicles towing personal snow machines, mobbing the ranger station for tour permits.
Snowmobile Rentals, flurry of trying on snowsuits, gloves, and boots, Should we buy balaclavas? Let's get this party started! We depart with a guide, my husband on one machine, myself and my daughter on another, six other snow machines in our caravan, You are entering YELLOWSTONE NATIONAL PARK, a thermometer stationed just beyond the ranger booths, tells the tale, zero degrees farenheit...Baby, it's cold!
Yellowstone National Park straddles three states, Idaho, Montana, and Wyoming. While we are staying in West Yellowstone, Montana, we cross the state line of Wyoming, shortly after entering the heavy timbers of the tollbooth. We have a mere 14 miles to travel to the Madison Junction, but between the frigid temperature, we are outdoors, at the mercy of the elements, and the strict forty mile per hour speed limit, it seemed like so much farther. Ultimately, our goal is to reach Old Faithful geyser basin, weather-permitting, another 17 miles. But, we will need warm-up breaks along the way.
Buffalo herds traveling the roadway, along the Madison River, was the first obstacle, to our delight. We learned, firsthand, how obstreporous, surly, and unpredictable buffalo can be. We were directed to pass them, single-file, slowly, and to be ready to dismount and keep the snowmobile between us and the buffs. Darned if that did not happen! That big female, bringing up the rear of the herd, turned her enormous head, and took our measure. We, collectively, had an "Oh shit" moment, as we realized how insignificant we were, in relation to the wild creature before us. She turned back and lumbered on, allowing us to climb back on our machines and pass.
Taking a break beside the Madison, we photographed and marveled at the experience. I took the opportunity to grant a wish for my daughter; she was chomping at the bit to drive the snowmobile, from that point she drove one-up. She did marvelously and nobody was the wiser.
We witnessed elk crossing the ice-rimed river, buffalo fording the same, as it opened onto a plain and meandered across the white winter landscape. I was more than ready to thaw out before the fire in the warming hut. Golden-mantle squirrels were abundant and willing to take advantage of tourist hand outs.
On down the snow-packed road, following the well-named Firehole River down into "Hell's half acre", also known as the Midway Geyser Basin. We had real trouble viewing the largest "geyser", Excelsior, through the clouds of steam and, frankly, we felt rooked by this stop in the winter cold. This particular geyser had not erupted since 1985. It was interesting to learn that Excelsior used to erupt to a height of 300 feet! (The celebrated Old Faithful geyser only reaches 136 feet.) Grand Prismatic hot spring (the colorful one best viewed from the air) and Excelsior keep the Firehole River steaming and streaming, with gallons of hot water. My most lingering memory was, actually in the parking lot, discovering just how intelligent the ravens are. Unattended bags were promptly plundered and zippers were not an obstacle.
We were surprised to find bare pavement near Upper Basin. It took a minute to realize that the geothermal activity was warming and melting the snow. Straw was spread on the pavement to protect snowmobile runners. A trip to the warming hut, then the eruption of Old Faithful was impressive, and I got unique photo opportunities only winter can provide: An majestic Roosevelt elk cow moving placidly, and comfortably, among the steam-billowing vents; a half-melted hoof print in the snow.
We continued on to view Kepler Cascades, a series of rolling waterfalls, through ancient lava deposits, a sight to behold. I captured precious shots of my husband and daughter on their power sleds. Arriving at the Continental Divide seemed so anti-climatic in comparison to the more flamboyant features of the park, but we commemorated the event.
Christmas morning, Tournament of Roses Parade on the tube, opening presents in bed, Tanenbaum en absentia, sweet and sour pork, kung pao chicken, and Mongolian beef replaced baked ham, roasted turkey, stuffing, and sweet potatoes. What a great holiday!
We procured a room upon arrival, the Best Western, abandoning our habit of driving into the night, and sleeping in the car, in a bear-threatened campground. We walked the tiny town, amid parka, polar fleece, wool, and boot-wearing tourists, browsing souvenir shops and dodging sports utility vehicles towing personal snow machines, mobbing the ranger station for tour permits.
Snowmobile Rentals, flurry of trying on snowsuits, gloves, and boots, Should we buy balaclavas? Let's get this party started! We depart with a guide, my husband on one machine, myself and my daughter on another, six other snow machines in our caravan, You are entering YELLOWSTONE NATIONAL PARK, a thermometer stationed just beyond the ranger booths, tells the tale, zero degrees farenheit...Baby, it's cold!
Yellowstone National Park straddles three states, Idaho, Montana, and Wyoming. While we are staying in West Yellowstone, Montana, we cross the state line of Wyoming, shortly after entering the heavy timbers of the tollbooth. We have a mere 14 miles to travel to the Madison Junction, but between the frigid temperature, we are outdoors, at the mercy of the elements, and the strict forty mile per hour speed limit, it seemed like so much farther. Ultimately, our goal is to reach Old Faithful geyser basin, weather-permitting, another 17 miles. But, we will need warm-up breaks along the way.
Buffalo herds traveling the roadway, along the Madison River, was the first obstacle, to our delight. We learned, firsthand, how obstreporous, surly, and unpredictable buffalo can be. We were directed to pass them, single-file, slowly, and to be ready to dismount and keep the snowmobile between us and the buffs. Darned if that did not happen! That big female, bringing up the rear of the herd, turned her enormous head, and took our measure. We, collectively, had an "Oh shit" moment, as we realized how insignificant we were, in relation to the wild creature before us. She turned back and lumbered on, allowing us to climb back on our machines and pass.
Taking a break beside the Madison, we photographed and marveled at the experience. I took the opportunity to grant a wish for my daughter; she was chomping at the bit to drive the snowmobile, from that point she drove one-up. She did marvelously and nobody was the wiser.
We witnessed elk crossing the ice-rimed river, buffalo fording the same, as it opened onto a plain and meandered across the white winter landscape. I was more than ready to thaw out before the fire in the warming hut. Golden-mantle squirrels were abundant and willing to take advantage of tourist hand outs.
On down the snow-packed road, following the well-named Firehole River down into "Hell's half acre", also known as the Midway Geyser Basin. We had real trouble viewing the largest "geyser", Excelsior, through the clouds of steam and, frankly, we felt rooked by this stop in the winter cold. This particular geyser had not erupted since 1985. It was interesting to learn that Excelsior used to erupt to a height of 300 feet! (The celebrated Old Faithful geyser only reaches 136 feet.) Grand Prismatic hot spring (the colorful one best viewed from the air) and Excelsior keep the Firehole River steaming and streaming, with gallons of hot water. My most lingering memory was, actually in the parking lot, discovering just how intelligent the ravens are. Unattended bags were promptly plundered and zippers were not an obstacle.
We were surprised to find bare pavement near Upper Basin. It took a minute to realize that the geothermal activity was warming and melting the snow. Straw was spread on the pavement to protect snowmobile runners. A trip to the warming hut, then the eruption of Old Faithful was impressive, and I got unique photo opportunities only winter can provide: An majestic Roosevelt elk cow moving placidly, and comfortably, among the steam-billowing vents; a half-melted hoof print in the snow.
We continued on to view Kepler Cascades, a series of rolling waterfalls, through ancient lava deposits, a sight to behold. I captured precious shots of my husband and daughter on their power sleds. Arriving at the Continental Divide seemed so anti-climatic in comparison to the more flamboyant features of the park, but we commemorated the event.
Christmas morning, Tournament of Roses Parade on the tube, opening presents in bed, Tanenbaum en absentia, sweet and sour pork, kung pao chicken, and Mongolian beef replaced baked ham, roasted turkey, stuffing, and sweet potatoes. What a great holiday!
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