North America > United States > Wyoming > Yellowstone National Park > Articles > Trekking in Yellowstone

London suddenly seems so far away. Armed with lenses and camera on the passenger seat, a map on my knees and front windows wide open, I keep one eye on the road, the other hunting for preys on either side. Midday time is not ideal for wildlife viewing, but I’m just as excited. And alert.

“Wildlife on the road, be careful!” Two miles following the warning sign, I’m forced to slow down and stop. Six vehicles ahead, a herd of buffalos is crossing the street to reach luscious grasslands on the other side, seemingly aloof of the traffic jam they have created.

Animals have the right of way here in Yellowstone National Park. This is part of the forward thinking concept that led to the 1872 legislation signed by US President Ulysses Grant making Yellowstone the first national park in the world. 2.2 million acres of forests, grassland and water. 61 mammals, 320 bird species. 3 million visitors a year.

Some call the Lamar Valley the “American Seregenti” because of its concentration of wildlife, e.g. buffalos, elks, wolves, coyotes, bears and other animals, roaming on its meadows. I had spent the morning driving from Shell, Wyoming, through Cody and then through the impressive Shoshone National Forest, with a quick lunch at Cooke City, amongst burly, bearded, leather-clad bikers. I had chosen to enter the Park from the Northeast Entrance upon advice related to construction-related delays at the East entrance. This Chief Joseph Scenic Highway was named after Chief Joseph of the Nez Perce Indian tribe, who came through this area while fleeing the US Army in 1877.

Shortly before arriving in the village of Fishing Bridge, I find hundred yards to my left a herd of 15-20 free-roaming buffalos and calves. Encouraged by a much more attractive end-of-afternoon light, I park the car, and pull-out my tripod and 200-400mm lens. I have never seen a buffalo up close: huge head, humped shoulder, small curved horns, dark woolly brownish hair by its neck, shorter hair on its body, and small hips. This animal is a majestic beast; up to 2,000 pounds, it is the largest land mammal in North America. They look quiet and docile from where I’m standing, but park brochures back in the car suggest how “wild, unpredictable and dangerous” they can be. I pay particular attention to the buffalo’s tail, since its sudden rise upward is a sign that the buffalo is about to charge at up to 30 miles per hour… 3x father than me!

Kneeling quietly, index finger on the shutter-release button, I’m waiting for interesting behaviour scenes, from male bisons repeatedly and brutally butting each other’s head, a sign of the pending mating season to them wallowing assertively in the sand, clouds of dust engulfing the animals.

I encounter dozens of buffalos over my next three days particularly in the Hayden Valley area. Historically there were up to 30m buffalos in North America, of which approximately 250,000 remain, with over 15,000 free-roaming in Yellowstone today.

The day is about to dawn. Everything is still and silent. It is 6.45am and no more than zero Celsius. The morning sun beams attempt to pierce through columns of steam jetting up from the crested surfaces around me, in Upper Geyser Basin. I walk past Old Faithful, not due to erupt for another hour, towards the Castle Geyser which is going through a thick steam phase. At 8.05am, the Grand Geyser throws off a 150-feet high column of water for about 10 minutes. Further away by the Firehole River, at 8.27am, it’s time for Riverside to blast. At 8.52am, the cessation of Grotto’s steam phase signals Giant Geyser would erupt in about 10 hours, according to a nearby enthusiastic 22-yr veteran of the park. At 9.23am, it’s time for Daisy to erupt for several minutes at a height of about 70 feet. I walk back towards the Old Faithful, and at 9.58am, it is the Lion Geyser near the wooden footpath that blasts spectacularly, with a rainbow forming across its steam.

Each of these geysers has its own personality, more or less picturesque, predictable, steamy and noisy. Three hours amongst them is a forceful reminder that the Earth, raging and boiling, grounding and steaming, is a living organism, Mother Nature in full swing. They are 180 of geysers here, and 250 in the Park. Later that day, I visit the impressive Porcelain Basin, a smaller concentration of geysers further north near the town of Norris: azure ponds, clear pools, mud pots, white deposits, sulphuric steam, and 1,000 ft below the surface, temperatures as high as 459 degrees Fahrenheit. How beautiful must be the scenes of wildlife congregating on the heated grounds to warm up in the winter…

I spend that afternoon amongst elks near the Madison Junction. This is the beginning of the September to Mid October mating season, which explains the impressive sets of antlers (some up to 5ft long and weighing up to 30lb, I’m told) sported by some of them. I’m luckily able to approach and observe at length (before the park rangers arrive) two bull elks basking in the sun, crossing the river, and guarding their harems of female elks. I find the golden brown animal quite elegant, and understand why its head is so prized.

Next morning, I leave my cabin at 4am to catch the sunrise in the splendid region of the Grand Tetons, a splendid Alpine-looking mountain range towards Jackson Hole, 59 miles below Yellowstone. My game plan is based on tips from other photographers. Shoot the first frames at the Schwabacher Landing, a calm beaver pond off the Snake River onto which is reflected the Tetons mountain range, then drive up to the old Mormon barns off the unpaved road nearby, then back up to Oxbow Bend to capture Mount Moran’s reflection on the water. In each location, I meet discerning photographers from various countries, reveling in the beauty of the Tetons’ rocky cliffs, the glaciers, the aspen groves, pine forests and the pale dawn.

Still digesting the elk fillet and buffalo sausage that I have for brunch (I have passed on their rocky mountain oysters e.g. buffalo testicles), I drive back north to Yellowstone National Park, stopping on the way to photograph a slender, reddish grey coyote strolling along the Lewis Lake, and further up a lone buffalo wandering nearby.

After 600 miles in three days, I leave the car to explore the backcountry. From the Artist Point overlook off the southern rim of the Grand Canyon of Yellowstone, I take an easy trail towards Lily Pad Lake, less than a mile away, most of which along the Canyon. I then walk for one hour through dense pine forest and lush meadows, unfortunately not seeing much wildlife besides squirrels, towards Ribbon Lake and the small falls of Silver Cord Cascade. The view from the rim of the Lower Falls is overwhelming. I’m sitting at the edge of the canyon, accidentally dropping a rock into the 1,000 feet deep void below, eating my sandwich, and kicking myself for not having any more water.

This is bear country and, despite being armed with a can of bear spray (an indispensable accessory here) the unexpected sound of cracking branches behind makes me jump. Luckily, it is not a bear but a resourceful state accountant from California who emerges out of the woods, incredibly with a Gatorade Pump in his back…

That night, it is with a splendid sunset from the viewing point of Lake Butte overlooking the Yellowstone Lake that I wrap up this excursion. The vastness of the Park, sprawling across volcanic plateaus beyond the horizon, is humbling. I think back at the steaming, sulphurous geysers, roadside animal encounters, crystal lakes and thundering waterfalls that I have seen over the last three days, and revel in the soft pale colours of the setting sun. I tell myself everyone should be visiting this Park at least once in his/her life.

Articles

• More from Benjamin Ergas