Forest > Articles > Winter in Yellowstone National Park

The world’s first national park (est. 1872) is also one of the most diverse. Towering peaks and dense forests go together with half of the world’s geysers, while hot pools bubble next to ice cold rivers. Bison share the plains with elk and deer, and coyotes stroll about. Keep an eye overhead for a soaring eagle, and yes, those prints in the snow could well be a wolf pack on the move.

As we round the bend in the snowcoach (an overgrown snowmobile/people carrier that is one of the few modes of winter transport in the park) a herd of bison are meandering up the road, using as little energy as possible. City dwellers whine about traffic jams, but this is natural gridlock, and no horns will sound. The snowcoach, loud and out of place in this winter wonderland, does not deter the bison; they march on stoically, beards and coats matted with snow, grunting to each other. The more aggressive males rear around to show their horns threateningly. The 25 year-old snowcoach seems no match for a charging bison.

Such a scene fits a place like Yellowstone National Park. The name itself conjures images of rugged landscapes, wild animals, and postcard waterfalls, bringing tourists in droves in the summer on reputation alone. In winter, with the roads closed and the motor-homes in their garages, the park is more enjoyable and peaceful, and more picturesque: with frozen lakes next to steaming geysers, volcanic pools of turquoise and aqua surrounded by snow, white ghosts for trees, and that sense of isolation which comes from reaching a secluded place by bizarre means. The solitary confines of winter satisfy the tourists as much as the animals.

As a self-confessed downhill dunce, I love cross-country skiing. You can keep your ski resorts, your big air and your black diamonds. I prefer the peaceful tranquillity of forests and ungroomed trails. Nothing is more adventurous and thrilling than blazing a trail across unmarked snow; like a modern day pioneer exploring unknown lands, shushing into history.

Alas, this first day has not been like that. Yellowstone’s magical spots are spread out, and the snowcoach is not exactly built for speed; it doesn’t even have a speedometer. Transportation is necessary to see the sights, with the only other option being snowmobile (the debate rages over whether snowmobiles will be banned from the park). A full day ski tour from the Snow Lodge takes you to many of the important sights, including the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone, our second stop.

The trail offers panoramic views of the canyon, with the Yellowstone River tumbling along far below. A robber jay rustles in the trees and there are footprints, probably from bighorn sheep who like the cliffs, but this is no place for mammals. The Canyon Rim Trail ends at Inspiration Point, and another spectacular view, before leading us back to the snowcoach.

To end the tour, we ski the Old Canyon Bridge Trail, which follows the postcard-perfect Yellowstone River. Tracks along the river suggest otter activity but none are sighted. All tuckered out, the snowcoach rumbles us back to the Lodge, just in time to see Old Faithful erupt, so named because it goes off about every 80 minutes. It’s the one geyser you can plan your day around.

The next morning is foggy and cold, but more warm sunshine is promised. Feeling reckless and free, done with tours, I take the snowcoach alone to nearby Biscuit Basin to see some of the more famous geysers and pools, and then start my trailblazing trek through the forest. Mike, the driver, removes his earplugs and shouts that I should go to Hillside Hot Springs, to where the locals go for a dip in winter.

‘Just follow the Summit Lake Trial,’ he screams, ‘and make a left. It’s not sign-posted but you can’t miss it.’

The bison are plentiful in the fields, working hard at pushing the snow with their flat heads to get at the grass underneath. They barely look up as I puff pass, heading for the plume of smoke I hope is the hot springs. There are all sorts of tracks in the snow, and none made by humans. In amongst the various tracks is the perfect print of a grizzly bear, which I hope is from several days ago.

The mammals like to sleep near the hot spring areas, but they are feeding down near the river now, which means the hot springs are all mine. Somewhat of a tall tale from Mike, however, because the spring is barely ankle deep, and not large enough to hold two jockeys. But it is a lovely 35 degrees, and I am able to stick my frozen feet in. Aaaahh. I look up at the picturesque hillside hoping to see a mountain lion perched on a cliff, and thankful I don’t see a grizzly ambling along. Yes, this is how it should be. No more tours.

Toasty warm and at one with nature, I shush across the valley, detouring around grazing bison, who look willing to defend their pasture, and back to Biscuit Basin. On the main road, I speak with two rangers who have stopped to observe a wolf kill left next to the river. Wolves were successfully re-introduced into the park in 1995 in areas around the Lamar Valley. Now, pack numbers have grown enough for them to start branching out. The ranger explains, somewhat worriedly, that wolf activity around Old Faithful is a recent phenomenon. The elusive animal keeps well away from humans but Old Faithful is one of the most popular areas of the park.

Satisfied with my day’s bushwhacking, I take a worn trail to see Morning Glory Pool, one of the most photographed images in the world. I also take in Sunset Lake and Rainbow Pool at Black Sand Basin. But it is not the same as being out in the wilderness. There are people here, and scatters of rubbish on the ground, which stand out against the white snow.

Warm and scrubbed, I nestle myself by the fire in the Snow Lodge’s comfortable bar. Late skiers come in red faced and beaming and step up to the bar. No one will leave Yellowstone without having strapped on the skinny skis. It’s what they come here for, to be in the centre of the perfect winter postcard.

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