Grand Teton and Yellowstone National Parks (430 miles total)

The only amount of time I put aside to explore two major national parks added up to no more than a day. There were two big stops to make, both in Yellowstone, so I figured time wouldn't be a problem. And it wasn't, exactly, but I could understand a reader's annoyance upon realizing that I drove through both parks twice and explored only a fraction of what each has to offer.

Gas station dino says "RARR ROW"

Thank God I sprung for the annual pass ($80 and already used several times) since the combined charge for both parks, which are back to back, is $50. Some might think that's a lot to spend for a trip that could be summed up almost entirely as "a pretty drive"...and I wouldn't necessarily disagree. 

I did see things, though. Beautiful things, wild things. Beautiful, wildly frustrating things. It was worth it and I was lucky to get the chance to see what I did.

The road up the Grand Teton National Park is very straightforward. There are fields and turnoffs to either side, the speed limit is 45 mph, and the mountains come into quick focus as visitors draw closer. The most striking thing about the Tetons is their shape and incredible immediacy. They are razor sharp, jutting rudely from the ground like a massive beast died as he tried to break free from the earth, his claws forever turned upward, defiant and extremely dangerous still. 

I couldn't figure why these mountains were so different, so intimately fierce, until I read the map they gave me at the park entrance. The Tetons are relative babies in the grand scope of mountains of this earth and have little to no foothills. You don't always realize how much foothills temper your sense of scale when it comes to viewing different mountain ranges throughout the country. That is why the Tetons are so shocking--the lands surrounding are hilly, true, but there is no steady rise to the base--it's just land, then rock shooting into the sky, sharp, snow covered, and abrupt. In this beautiful country, with so many natural wonders to see and experience, the Grand Tetons have to be in my top five of MUST SEE places. It is worth the effort.

There is a part of the park that falls behind a large bank of trees. I was aware a large lake was unfolding beside me, but didn't get much of a look at it until I rounded one particular curve...

Okayyy. So, I know I can be ebullient and over the top screamy about stuff, especially since the things I've seen over the course of these past months have been intense, overwhelming, and really quite scream-worthy, so I beg forgiveness if I flail my words about too hard and leave you feeling bruised and tired from all the emotional shouting. Part of it is just me. I've never not been this way, and in this blog I'm more often than not just saying exactly what I mean. This isn't kindergarten; no one gets to smack me for coloring outside the lines.

But! The other part is recovery. Because there was so much more to recover from than just not drinking anymore. That's only step one. Then I had to deal with all the other shit that came crashing down around my head in the wake of such a titanic shift in priorities and habits. For example, consider the abandoned rest stop in Nowhere, Idaho, approximately eleven p.m. When I first stopped drinking my anxiety at night shot through the roof. As soon as the sun set, the terror would rise. I would just sweat it out, ticking off each hour until bed time before getting under the covers to try not to listen to my heartbeat going WHAMWHAMWHAM. It sucked.

The next day, after I composed myself and added lipstick.

I asked my counselor at rehab to please explain this bullshit phenomena and she said it was quite simple. Since my habit was to abstain until quitting time, I was used to being drunk at night, every night. Being sober instead was akin to walking through the day like normal, solid ground underfoot, then as the dark descended, suddenly looking down to see I'd been walking over a cavern on a tightrope, with the whole physical world dropped out underneath me. 

It took a long time for me to normalize the night (compounded by a Panic Attack Renaissance that screwed up my entire life for awhile)...the very idea of driving alone at night would have been unthinkable. And to spend one minute in that empty rest area? Horrifying. Car sleeping at all? Impossible. This road trip...or the last? Never in a million years.

So when I rounded that curve and saw the Tetons set back behind Jackson Lake, I had to pull over. Thankfully there was a space for just this photo opportunity...or to just catch my breath and take stock. I know exactly how far I've come (and how far I have to go), and to feel the full measure of that progress when standing before something greater, infinite, and astonishing...the words just lose cohesion and shape, then fall flat and ashy gray to the wayside. And I cried. Because it was too much. In all the best ways.

When I collected myself I continued onward toward Yellowstone National Park. I knew I would just be driving past the Tetons with no planned stops, but there were two specific destinations in Yellowstone. One is highly predictable: Old Faithful; the other less so, though well known: Grand Prismatic Spring.

The main thing I wanted to see was that Spring. If you've ever seen pictures of it, you will know why. It is a RAINBOW UNICORN SPRING. It is magical...but we'll get to that in a minute.

I didn't get to see anything on the eastern side of Yellowstone since I entered the park from the south and kept to the western roads that led to Old Faithful and Grand Prismatic. Much of the drive, while pretty, can get repetitive. Plus the shuffling shadows of the trees and sunlight made me drowsy. I want to say nicer things, I do...but much of the park that I saw was not terribly extraordinary. You can see better sights in many other places of the country...for free. RUDE. I know. But I said what I said.

A captive audience.

Anyway, the great thing about Old Faithful is that parking is right next to it so you can stroll your lazy (or nonlazy, claim your name) ass over to the viewing area in less than five minutes and then wait for The Big Event to occur. Everything I learned about this geyser was via people talking around me so nyeh I don't have to cite anything so we'll give ol' Wikipedia a break. While we will assume it is called Old Faithful because it does regularly spray a plume of water...it's not on the dot. And when you are cold and shivering and waiting for awhile, your butt numb, and your ears missing, you start to tell yourself jokes about Old Unfaithful...and then it starts to manifest out of grumbling mouths all around. Which is funnier because everyone is thinking the same thing: Let's Get This Show On the Road. Ya Geyser. 

Old Faithful blows every 40 to 120 minutes. The most common question people ask as they approach the viewing area is "How long have you been here?" Because while we all want to see it, we collectively have the patience of a gnat.

I took pictures to show what it does in the meantime. It constantly spews steam, so that's something. But there are tons of springs and geysers around Yellowstone doing that. Sometimes water bubbles up and you think this is it this is it. Then it's not. 

While waiting I noticed the most adorable little relationship blooming behind me. The tiniest photographer I have ever seen was trying to capture a raven on film. And I really do mean on film. The camera he had was enormous, with a lens longer than the kid's forearm practically. I couldn't get over it. How on earth did he get a camera like that?? My guess is that his mom or pop is a photographer. What else makes sense?

The raven, fully acclimated to the Foodapes that gather in this area of the park, danced around the boy, waiting to see what was up, clearly hoping for a treat. It was so cute I started taking pictures. For the record, they are from pretty far away and should not be identifiable. I did consider that, but the cute factor won...a publisher (ahem) might disagree, but that's not at issue here.

It got weird when another tourist did her own dance toward the raven...I guess to try and get it to come closer to her and her comrades? I wasn't close enough to determine what it was all about. The boy patiently waited for the intrusion to conclude then continued on with his own study of the big, shiny bird. Eventually the raven realized she wasn't getting anything other than attention and took to the sky.

Some four hundred years later, Old Faithful finally blew. It was impressive. It even made a rainbow. But I was dying to get to the Grand Prismatic Spring, so hightailed it out of there and got back on the road.

Rainbow!

Wild clouds over the climb to the springs.

In order to reach the spring, you must first climb a hill, then walk over this precarious walkway with no handrails back to where the Grand Prismatic is located. It was a windy day, but not ferociously so, still it meant that the steam from all of the area springs and geysers continuously flowed over the hill and the walkway, sometimes so thick that I had to just stop and wait it out. I couldn't see a foot in front of me, let alone my own feet below. Falling off the path was a real possibility and that would have been extremely dangerous.

Some hot springs can be enjoyed by members of the animal kingdom who are really into Hot Tubbin', usually of the monkey and ape variety, but no doubt a water dog would enjoy the sensation as well. We've all seen the snow monkeys in Japan. But God help you if you fall into the Grand Prismatic Spring or any of the other springs in Yellowstone. People have died.

As tourists make their way up the hill, they are treated to a view of the runoff from all springs in the immediate area, the first of which is the Excelsior. I managed to get a couple of shots that show its lovely blue center, but it was mostly shrouded in steam on the day I visited.

A closer view of the runoff near the Excelsior.

The Excelsior.

See the blue?

As I made my way toward the Grand Prismatic--the main attraction--I quickly realized I was not going to see it in its full beauty, if at all. The entire area was covered with steam. I could see the outlying runoff, and the beautiful, colorful bacteria fields that live by the springs, but those colorful edges, and the deep, jewel blue of the center eluded my vision almost completely. I took as many pictures as I could in hopes of capturing something, but as you can see, it was largely unsuccessful. 

The following pictures feature the bacteria fields around the springs...

...people are warned to never step off the path for fear of being burned...

...but the delicate ecosystems of these bacteria fields depend on us...

...to keep our wits and stay on the path...

...or destroy millions of little lives with carelessness.

I expected to feel more disappointed, but there's something about the thrill of the danger than offsets that. Being cloaked in steam, with voices all around, screaming and giggling and having a great old time, was quite simply a blast. As was the notion that I was standing over a literal hotbed of volcanic activity, so hot in fact that it could make my blood run cold if I dared to overthink it. 

The following pictures are my attempt to capture...

...the elusive Grand Prismatic Spring...

...which is hiding just under that blanket of steam. See it?

And there was a consolation prize: The achingly beautiful Turquoise Pool. You can read about all three of the major springs in that area here.

The Turquoise Pool.

I ain't afraid of no ghost.

Me not being disappointed at the
Grand Prismatic Spring.

After a long day of driving, I was ready to find the hotel and some chow. I hoped the town of West Yellowstone wasn't too far, then chortled when I realized it was literally just outside the west gate. I stayed at the Stage Coach Inn, an appropriately hokey tourist spot, festooned with all manner of dead heads on one very well dusted player piano. The service was great, the breakfast the next morning was good, and the room was fine, save one thing: It had one of those no-edge showers, the kind where water just goes all over the floor? It wouldn't have been an issue, except it wet the carpet just outside the bathroom...who knows how long, years?...leaving a discolored section that smelled mildewy. And I stepped on it, too, well before my own shower, and it was cold and wet and seriously gross. But I doubt all the showers are like that...I'd recommend the hotel regardless.

And I got to eat beets, too! I had dinner at Bullwinkles, which was serving a walleye special that turned out to be absolutely fabulous. It looked so good I forgot to take a picture, but suffice it to say it was worth every penny.

The mileage noted includes the trip from Love's Travel Stop in Idaho Falls, up through the Tetons and Yellowstone to West Yellowstone, then back down again the next day, through Jackson and over to Pinedale. I got to see that view of the Tetons one last time, and I also got to see a buffalo up close and personal (from my car). Unfortunately, I didn't get a picture of the wooly cutie, but I did get some last pictures of coyotes in the fields.

West Yellowstone.