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Where to start? The Park has as many faces as there are days in the year. Indeed, the volcanic nature of the area means that it is totally dynamic. We passed the snow-capped tops of the Teton Mountains and wondered whether the Park would be steep and tortuous. We entered by the West gate and drove South. It was mainly pine forest and the road was flat, following the Firehole River. We passed a major water fall and then entered the area of geysers. The Lower Geyer Basin was amazing. There was a walkway which connected up a series of geysers, each different to the other. Some were dry and hissed like a kettle (fumaroles). Others were bubbling mud holes which resembled the dishes that I cook on the hob. There were geysers that were crystal clear and gave a great view into the depths of the steaming waters. Bacteria grew alongside and around some of the holes, colouring the ground in hues of ochre.
Then onto Old Faithful. The geyser was surrounded by a gallery of benches which, as the hour approached, filled up with thousands of people. The expectation grew in the adults; the children were restless and wanted to move on. There were a few premature ejaculations before Old Faithful showed its power, spurting a plume of water a full 40 feet in the air. The sight was such that there was applause when it finally returning to steaming.
Grant Village camp site was a basic site; no hook-ups so the generator was cranked up and a camp fire was started. We were by the side of Yellowstone Lake, which was beautiful in the dying evening sunlight. It was 170 feet deep on average and a cool, hypothermic 60 F. A book in the gift shop catalogued the numbers of canoeing deaths in these icy waters. The dog was excited by the new smells and sounds. We had been warned about the bear; both black and grizzly, the wolves and the coyotes which drag unsuspecting pets away for their supper so the fire burned bright until an early bed time. We cooked (burnt) marshmallows and crept nearer and nearer as the temperature dropped. The dog survives for another night. Unfortunately, during the day, we saw no wildlife although the girls said that they saw a Golden eagle. That was to change.
Then onto Old Faithful. The geyser was surrounded by a gallery of benches which, as the hour approached, filled up with thousands of people. The expectation grew in the adults; the children were restless and wanted to move on. There were a few premature ejaculations before Old Faithful showed its power, spurting a plume of water a full 40 feet in the air. The sight was such that there was applause when it finally returning to steaming.
Grant Village camp site was a basic site; no hook-ups so the generator was cranked up and a camp fire was started. We were by the side of Yellowstone Lake, which was beautiful in the dying evening sunlight. It was 170 feet deep on average and a cool, hypothermic 60 F. A book in the gift shop catalogued the numbers of canoeing deaths in these icy waters. The dog was excited by the new smells and sounds. We had been warned about the bear; both black and grizzly, the wolves and the coyotes which drag unsuspecting pets away for their supper so the fire burned bright until an early bed time. We cooked (burnt) marshmallows and crept nearer and nearer as the temperature dropped. The dog survives for another night. Unfortunately, during the day, we saw no wildlife although the girls said that they saw a Golden eagle. That was to change.
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