A Snapshot and The Scoop: The World's Tallest Geyser

Clocking in as the tallest active geyser in the world, Steamboat Geyser is highly unpredictable. Major eruptions, spewing water and gas over 300 feet into the air, are irregular at best, but it just so happens there was a major one right before my sister and I arrived in the park, and another shortly after we left. Go figure. More minor eruptions of 10-40 feet occur a little more frequently but still unpredictably, and yet my sister and I were still denied even though we stuck around for something like 20 minutes just to see it blow. Better luck next time!

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Sulphur Caldron

Right on the edge of one of the most active areas of Yellowstone's geothermal activity, Sulphur Caldron churns away, bubbling with hydrogen sulfide released by gasses rising from the magma chambers below. While supporting a pH roughly equivalent with battery acid, Sulphur Caldron is still full of life! Microbes called thermoacidophiles survive by converting the hydrogen sulfide gas into sulfuric acid for energy, thriving in the extreme environment in a way nothing else on earth could.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Mud Volcano

Imagine a towering column of mud, spewing water much like a geyser high into the surrounding trees. That is what this puddle of bubbling, smelly mud used to look like before it blew itself apart in the 1870's. The geothermal features of Yellowstone are always changing, coming and going, building and dissolving, and Mud Volcano is no different. Now, instead of a volcano we get a boiling cauldron of sticky mud that smells exactly like rotten eggs due to the high concentration of hydrogen sulfide gas rising from the magma chambers not-so-deep beneath the surface of the Yellowstone Caldera. I can't wait to go back to Yellowstone (maybe not quite as long next time, 15 years is too much) and see what else might have changed in the time I've been away.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Minerva Terrace

While visiting Yellowstone National Park last summer my sister and I each made a short list of a few places within the park that we absolutely did not want to miss. One of the places on my list was Minerva Terrace, pictured above. The minerals in the travertine that make up the delicate stepped terraces near the northern border of the park are typically white when they first bubble to the surface of the hot springs as calcium carbonate. They later stain darker as microbes come to live in the boiling waters. Hot springs like these fluctuate, going dormant for days, months, or years, only to gurgle back to life. Or sometimes they close themselves off with build-up, emerging somewhere else where the crust of the earth is less solid. Regardless, the travertine terraces are yet another geothermal wonder of the greater Yellowstone area, one that I am so happy we didn't miss.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Grand Teton

Formed by earthquakes along the Teton Fault, the Teton Range at the center of Grand Teton National Park in northwestern Wyoming houses some of North America's youngest mountains, and they're still growing up. The Teton's sharp ridges speak of their age, as time has yet to dull their peaks with wind, water, and ice. The Tetons soar above the surrounding plains, sticking out from the surrounding mountains in the western states as something to be envied. We certainly spent a good amount of time getting to know those mountains during our time backpacking in the park, but we still only scratched the surface. Grand Teton, I can't wait till we meet again.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Fumaroles

Fumaroles, also known as steam vents, are the hottest of Yellowstone's geothermal wonders. Usually located on hillsides well above a basin's water supply, any moisture a fumarole receives is instantly boiled away into a steamy eruption, accompanied by a whooshing roar as the water vapor is forcefully ejected from the vent. You can always hear a fumarole before you see it, though the cloude of steam issuing from the ground is also a giveaway. We saw so much neat geothermal activity while at Yellowstone, and it only served as a reminder that we were literally standing in the cauldera of a massive active volcano. How cool is that??

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Grand Prismatic Spring

Clocking in at 200 feet across, Grand Prismatic Spring is the largest hot spring in Yellowstone National Park and is one of the most brilliantly colored hot springs, but you can't see that from the ground. A brilliant blue center surrounded by yellows, oranges, and browns, this massive spring roils at temperatures near 160 F, resulting in a near-constant cloak of steam. The clear blue color of the spring is caused by sunlight scattering through the fine particles suspended in the boiling water, much like the vivid blues of glacial tarns (though with quite a bit of temperature difference). Extremeophile mats contribute to the yellows, oranges, and browns that surround the spring in its runoff channels. Extremeophiles, microorganisms that survive in extreme conditions, thrive near the hot springs of Yellowstone, creating a special, easily accessible area to study these microorganisms in the type of harsh environments that are found throughout the solar system. In our search for extra terrestrial life we are likely going to be searching for something like the tiny organisms that live near hot springs, or in glacial ice, and where better to study these fascinating creatures than Yellowstone? Musings about ET aside, Grand Prismatic Spring was an amazing setting to catch the sunset, the low light reflecting off shallow runoff and catching on the twisting steam columns. What better way to spend an evening than on a boardwalk surrounded by light and heat.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Excelsior Geyser

There's nothing quite like standing close enough to a gigantic, unpredictable geyser who's last recorded eruptions shot water three hundred feet into the air and left a massive crater in the ground that you are frequently shrouded in the vapor rising from its boiling surface. Excelsior Geyser, located right next to Grand Prismatic Spring and the Firehole River in Yellowstone National Park may be dormant but it is still busy roiling and steaming, pouring 4000 gallons of water per minute into the Firehole River. My sister and I made it a point to hit this area of Yellowstone at sunset, knowing the low light would make for an unforgetable view. The mist clouds, smelling faintly of sulphur, turned all but opaque in the setting sun, obscuring the world until the breeze shifted it away and we were left with stunning views of reflected sun on shallow, steaming water. We stayed until the sun dropped below the silhouetted horizon, the rim of the vast crater cradling Yellowstone's geyser basins, and the world dipped into twilight.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: The Dragon's Mouth

Named over a hundred years ago by a park visitor, this hot spring at Yellowstone National Park certainly captures the imagination. Impossible to see with a single picture, the water in this spring roils and crashes with violent waves much like a dragon's tongue, while gasses bubbling to the surface release a dull, constant roar, contributing to the noise of the waves already bouncing off the cave's walls. Add a little steam into the mix, and it's not hard to imagine a dragon snoozing in the caverns beyond the mouth of the spring. While not the prettiest hot spring by any means, this was one of my favorites purely for the creative name and images provoked.

Grand Teton Part 2: Death Canyon

Demanding. Starting our second day in the backcountry with an argument was probably not the way to do things. Alisha and I had driven to the trailhead for our second night's camp at Death Canyon in Grand Teton National Park a little later in the morning than either of us really liked, and Alisha was trying to convince me to forgo camping that night in favor of not running into the thunderstorms that were sure to build. I was obstinate, even to the point of telling her I would go alone and she could camp wherever she liked, as long as she was back to pick me up the next morning. We were in the Tetons, damn it, and it rains in the mountains. We'd been wet before, we survived, it would be ok to get a little wet this time too. I ended up winning, although not without hearing her grumble about it for a long while afterwards.

Unfortunatley, I began wishing I wasn't so stubborn about halfway up our hike to the camping area. The trail was not nice, one continuously strenuous stretch of exposed loose rock along a mountain side under a sun that beat down and forced us to stop in the shade at every chance. We passed other hikers, some of whom showed obvious signs of altitude sickness, and determinedly forged ahead all while silently (on my part) wishing we were done. It wasn't until we turned onto the camping spur that the clouds began to build, and with the first rumbles of thunder and drops of rain came my sister's glare. We hurried along, trying our best to make noise so we'd give any bears nearby a warning that we were there so as not to surprise any on the trail. Then it began to rain, though we were under enough tree cover that the light rain only gently dripped down on us. Until it rained harder. And harder. And began to hail. At that point I'm pretty sure my sister was so mad at me she would have spit fire if she were physically capable of doing so, and I suggested dinner right there on the trail, sheltering under a thick bough of evergreen limbs, because what else could we do? We couldn't move in the hail, and didn't particularly want to move in the rain if we could avoid it, so hey, let's eat.

We made dinner right in the middle of a muddy trail, and I did my best to make the most out of the situation and not wish for the warm and dry interior of my car. We got pretty lucky and as the rain eased when we finished eating, and we made our way forward as quickly as we could, eager to get the tent up at the first suitable site. Once again, though, my stubbornness won out and we passed by a few sites that were either too exposed to the weather, or tucked so deep into the forest that we'd be eaten alive by mosquitoes the second we stopped. I really wanted to make it to the far end of the camp area where other hikers had promised good views, but the skies continued to threaten us with buckets of rain, so we picked a site on the edge of a small meadow where we would be protected by trees but open enough to help keep the bugs down. We set up quickly and all but dived into the tent when we felt more sprinkles falling from the sky, calling it a night way earlier than we normally would have in an attempt to forget about the hike.

I woke up to a whispered "do you hear that?" Now, anyone who's camped with me knows I sleep like a log and pretty much need to be directly spoken to or shaken awake if you want my attention. I was drifting in the dreamy state between slumber and wakefullness when I swore I heard a clock ticking. It took me a little bit too long to realize I was deep in the backcountry forests of the Tetons, and there were definitely no analog clocks ticking anywhere nearby. Alisha and I lay still, trying to figure out what the hell was going on, when I remembered with a jolt and a curse that we had been warned by another hiker of the porcupines that had an affinity for hiking gear in the area. I grabbed my headlamp and directed the beam out my side of the tent, only to watch one of my trekking poles get slowly dragged out of sight into the darkess. You know that scene in every monster movie where a person gets pulled out of sight to the sound of crunching bones by an unseen monster? Yeah, if I hadn't known it was a porcupine stealing my trekking pole I would have been terrified out of my mind. As it was, I ripped open my tent door and grabbed at my pole, unleashing a viscious stream of colorful and imaginative curses at the culprit. Pole rescued, Lisha and I tucked our sets deep under the tent and settled back down, giggling hysterically and feeling far better about the camping trip than we had all day. I was once again on the verge of dreaming bliss when I felt myself rocking gently, a snuffling noise that I couldn't pinpoint in my ear. I asked Alisha if she was moving, and she responded negative. It took me a second longer to realize my poles were slowly sliding out from under me, resulting in my body moving as it was repositioned. I bolted upright, ripped open my tent door for the second time in an hour, and snapped my headlamp on, finding myself facing a very confused porcupine who had my pole in its little paws and my wrist strap between its teeth. We stared at each other for an eternity, before it promptly dropped my pole, turned tail, and waddled away.

We pulled our trekking poles inside the tent after our second encounter, but the determined little bugger wouldn't take the hint. It kept us up for the better part of two hours - two hours - with its snuffling and scrapping and general inspection of our camp. I was worried it would start gnawing on my tent fabric, and kept telling Lisha to help me kick the sides of the tent, hoping to scare it off. Eventually it wandered off and didn't return, though in the morning an inspection of our site produced a number of quills stuck into my tent doors and scuffs in the dirt around us. We left the site in high spirits, giggling about the porcupine antics and happy to be heading down the mountain. A storm blowing in behind us hurried our progress until we were nearly jogging down the mountain, taking cover from the rain as best we could while still moving forward. When the rain let up and the clouds began to lift, morning in the Tetons was something to behold and I found myself grateful for insisting on making the hike in the first place, despite the weather. The rest of our hike was thankfully animal-encounter free, and we made good enough time to reach our car before noon. We were only a few days into our week-long adventure and it had already proven to be a jam-packed trip. I couldn't wait to see what else the week had in store for us.

Grand Teton Part 1: Cascade Canyon

Undaunted. How are you supposed to feel when you're finally hiking (and not just hiking, but backpacking) in a place you've dream about hiking ever since you first visited more than ten years previous? I wasn't entirely sure, but astounded awe seemed like a good place to start when my sister and I finally hit the trail on this year's visit to Grand Teton National Park in northwestern Wyoming. Like many places in the West, my sister and I had visited Grand Teton on one of our two-week long summer family vacations years ago, and we were determined to go back and see it anew with adult eyes. This time, our itinerary included a two night, three day backpacking loop through the rugged Tetons backcountry, and I can't tell you how much I was looking forward to it. As we checked in at the wilderness office, however, we were informed that avalanche risk along our intended route was high, and unless we had the proper equipment to deal with it we were advised to make alternate plans. After a brief discussion Lisha and I amended our hike, still planning camping two nights but making both nights out-and-back instead of a loop. Neither of us have the gear or experience to deal with much more than ankle-deep snow, and we didn't really want to test ourselves and end up needing a rescue. We're crazy, but not stupid.

It was with high spirits that we hit the trail, though it wasn't long before we were huffing and puffing with exertion and altitude. We slogged along slowly, but it wasn't a bad thing; the scenery of the Tetons is something that deserves to be appreciated at your own pace. We eventually made it the four or so miles up to South Fork Cascade Canyon and set up camp at the first unoccupied sight, settling down to nap the afternoon away. I know I drifted off, but have no idea how long I was out before voices woke me up and I found Alisha chatting with another hiker who was asking if they could set up somewhat close by. We had no problem with it (safety in numbers, and we were in a highly populated bear habitat) and ended up making friends with the couple. Ben and Beth live out east, and Ben turned out to be a teacher, so he and Lisha chatted away over dinner as we watched evening settle in around us while Beth and I held our own conversations. Not too long before sunset we bid each other goodnight.

Our wishes for an uneventful slumber were somewhat put out by a thunderstorm that echoed through our canyon in the early hours of the next morning, Lisha and I lying in bed watching the flashes of lightning illuminate the canvas above us as we waited for the rain. We were relieved when the storm moved up canyon without dumping on us, though we continued to hear thunder bouncing off the mountain sides as I slipped back into sleep. We were up before the sun that morning, climbing out of the tent when there was enough light to see and breaking down camp. We needed to make good time in order to reach the next camp that night, so we weren't in the mood to linger overlong. To our surprise Ben and Beth were up too, and we ended up leaving camp together after figuring it'd be safer to move through the dawn with a bigger group of people. You have no idea how happy I was to have them with us when Alisha spotted the first moose, a cow and her baby, next to the creek not too far off trail. It wasn't until a little while later, when I almost walked right into Alisha after she abruptly stopped with no warning, that I became incredibly grateful for the two of them. A cow moose had bedded down just off to the side of our trail, and there was absolutely no way we would be able to continue on trail past her. We approached slowly, tightly pressed together in an attempt to make us less of a target, but she stood up quickly and we dashed for cover behind a large boulder. We were there, trapped behind that boulder, for a good ten or fifteen minutes, with Ben and I keeping watch on either side of the boulder, trying to keep her in view. The moose didn't seem all too bothered by us unless we were in her path, and as long as we kept the boulder between us and her she left us alone to graze. The problem was, there was no cover between us and the trail and if we wanted to make it around her we were going to have to run for it. We waited until she moved down towards us, hopefully far enough that if she decided to charge us as we made for the trail we'd have a head start, before we made a break for it, crashing through the small meadow and through to the safety of trees, running full out down the trail until we put enough distance between our group and her.

Of course, when we stopped to pant for breath and congratulate ourselves on getting away without incident, I realized I'd dropped a water bottle and my tripod in our mad dash for safety. If it were just the bottle I would have left it for someone else to have, but that tripod was expensive and I wasn't about to give it up that easily. I eased back toward the meadow, Ben following behind to keep watch while Alisha and Beth waited down trail. I didn't see the moose, thankfully, and darted out from the cover of the forest to where we'd gotten back on trail. I found my stuff right on the edge of the trail, meaning I wouldn't have to go searching through the long grass and waste time, grabbed it, and ran back, looking over my shoulder convinced an angry moose was about to charge me. She didn't, and Ben and I returned to Alisha and Beth triumphant.

We were still exclaiming over our escape from the moose when Alisha once again brought us up short as she spotted another animal at a curve in the trail ahead of us. All four of us were keyed up, and it didn't take much to convince us that the huge humped brown back we saw belonged to a grizzly bear. That is, at least, until we saw the gigantic rack of antlers and realized that the huge humped brown back actually belonged to an enormous bull moose. Still nothing to lift your nose at, bull moose can be ferociously territorial, especially if there were females around, and we didn't exactly thrill to the idea of testing our luck a third time that morning. As we watched, another group of hikers passed by the bull with no incident, and by the time they reached us we were willing to give it a shot. He ended up being further off trail than it initially looked, but we still quickly and cautiously passed by while keeping wary eyes on his grazing rear. That he was facing away from us gave me enough courage to snap a few pictures of him as I had with the cow before we continued on our way. The rest of the hike passed uneventfully, and we said goodbye to Beth and Ben at the parking lot. There's nothing quite like making it through an eventful hike with strangers to bring you together, and this has become one of my favorite hikes of the past several years. Ben and Beth, thank you for being awesome and I hope you're doing well!

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Old Faithful

I think a visit to see Old Faithful is on just about everybody's bucket list, and for good reason. How many active, predictable geysers are there in the world, and how many of them are accessible to everyone without having to make a grueling hike? But to be honest, Alisha and I were going to pass on a visit, instead wanting to focus on other hot springs and geysers that would hopefully draw less crowds. That, and the fact that we'd already visited and seen Old Faithful with our family years back on our annual childhood family vacations resulted in not even having Old Faithful on the tentative itinerary for our Yellowstone visit this year. So when we woke up early and decided to see the geyser on a whim we hadn't checked the eruption times or anything other than marking its location on our park map, which meant we showed up half an hour late for the early morning eruption, or nearly an hour early for the next one. We decided to hang around and wait for it, pacing the almost empty boardwalk while trying to both stay warm and find the perfect photo opportunity. In the end I settled down on a bench that would put the sun directly across from me, meaning I would be shooting into the light when it came time for the eruption. When the crowds gathered and the tell-tale hiss of steam and rumble of water announced the geyser was gearing up to explode I started clicking away, and promptly quit when the eruption actually happened. There was something about being there, in that time and place, seeing what amounts to a quintessential Yellowstone experience in person, that caused me to stop and stare with my mouth opened in awe at the raw power of heat and water. I'm absolutely sure I even had tears in my eyes as I watched. It was only after a few seconds that I restarted snapping photos, but I will always remember the reverence I felt at being there. And to think, Alisha and I were going to skip this.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Ravens

I love ravens; they're wicked smart, mischievous, and down right hilarious. Their antics crack me up, like these two preening each other on a chilly summer morning in Yellowstone National Park. They and another pair were hanging around the boardwalk near Old Faithful Geyser, and I entertained myself by watching them while waiting for the eruption. Alisha and I had arrived nearly an hour early and had the area nearly to ourselves and the birds, who made no secret of the fact that they owned the place. They chased each other all over, cawing and croaking and otherwise disrupting the still and silent morning air. I wasn't smart and had only worn flip flops, capris, and a tank top covered with a light jacket, and the temperature was hovering somewhere around 45f, so I was freezing my poor toes off. I'm eternally grateful to these ravens for helping me keep my mind off my feet!

A Snapshot and The Scoop: When It Speaks, You Listen

Take a second look at the picture above. That shell-shaped cone, on the edge of Yellowstone Lake right in the center of the giant cauldera that is Yellowstone National Park, is a geyser. One of the first geothermal features Alisha and I saw while visiting Yellowstone this past summer, we didn't get to see this particular geyser erupt, but knowing that it could and how gorgeous it would be against the backdrop of the lake and distant mountains spoke to me in a way that I'm still not sure I understand. Sometimes things talk to you, and you listen, even if you don't comprehend what is being said. 

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone

Alisha and I managed to visit two Grand Canyons in two years! Last year it was the Grand Canyon in Arizona, this year it was the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone in Wyoming. Located in Yellowstone National Park, the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone was carved by the Yellowstone River, downstream of Yellowstone Falls. Enough "Yellowstone" for you? It's easy to see how the canyon gets its name - sandstone colored by mineral deposits, smelling slighly like eggs, provide a backdrop for churning white water and roaring falls who's echos thunder down canyon to the viewpoint where I stood to take this picture. Though not a mile deep or a mile across, this canyon is still Grand in all the right ways.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Firehole River

A river of hot springs. That's right, the Firehole River that flows through Yellowstone National Park is a river made up of hot springs, geysers, and other geothermal activity. How cool is that!!! What starts out as a little stream quickly swells into a good sized river as the runoff from every hot spring and geyser in its watershed joins its waters, creating a river that is an attraction in and of itself among the vistas offered by Yellowstone. Not only does the river accept the runoff, but sometimes a geyser or hot spring are located in the river itself, though of course it is never recommended that you get close to such a phenomenon. Unstable crust and boiling waters and all that jazz. For real though, how many other places do you know where a river is created and sustained by geothermal activity? Gotta love Yellowstone!

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Yellowstone = Animals

Ok, ok, I know this isn't a bear or a wolf, but is it even possible to go to Yellowstone and not see large animals up close and personal? I mean sure, I would have flipped if we had seen a wolf, but seeing bison, elk, and moose in their element is still really neat! And to think, Yellowstone National Park and the greater Yellowstone ecosystem host such a large number of these animals it's almost like they actually roam free like they're meant to. I don't know about you, but I still love seeing bison any chance I get!

A Snapshot and The Scoop: A Hike to Hidden Falls

This year's adventure with my sister found us all over the place from mountains to desert, but our first stop was Grand Teton National Park in northern Wyoming. We spent two nights backpacking (stories for another time) and our hike began with a visit to Hidden Falls. A short ferry ride across Jenny Lake dropped us off at the trailhead for the falls as well as for our first camp site, so we figured a visit to the falls was in order. On our first visit to the Tetons way back when as a family (like, 15 or so years ago) we took the ferry across the lake and visited the falls, and this time around my sister and I couldn't pass up the chance to see them with grown up eyes. We were both glad we made the trip! We had the viewpoint all to ourselves thanks to the early hour, and we were left in peace to contemplate the thundering falls, the rising sun, and the hike in our very near future. It sure was great to be back in the mountains!