Old Faithful
Yellowstone started out rough. We miscalculated the time to get into the park itself and to our cabin while mapping out the drive. We had arrived at the park very late after a mad scramble from the day before in Mount Rushmore.
Having already broken the budget on a non-refundable cabin, we only had the room for that night. So we drove hard thinking that our estimates were to our cabin. But they weren’t. The estimates were to the Yellowstone East Gate. As if that realization wasn’t rude enough, we dropped all connection to the outside world as soon as our GPS told us we had “arrived” by rolling through the deserted park entrance. We resisted the urge to panic.
Nobody was around anywhere, for miles. We had no internet, no GPS, and it was midnight. Pitch dark. We were sitting at the entrance of a park that anyone can take the better part of the day to drive across, and we had no maps. We were tired, hungry, and exhausted in every way, and we didn’t know where in the world our lodge or cabin was located. Both Katrina and I were unfamiliar with the park. One of us said, “I think we’re in trouble.” I don’t remember who said it, but I remember thinking it. And Aiden started giving us shit. We’d had enough so we gave it right back, and Katrina pulled over to park. She was feeling overwhelmed at this point, and contemplating turning around and finding our way back to some form of civilization. Tori, thankfully, was asleep.
It was in that moment that I remembered that I’d loaded Yellowstone Lake Lodge’s website to help book the cabin. One of the pages had a decent illustration of the park, its roads, and where the lodge was located relative to everything else. I crossed my fingers and hauled out the laptop, hoping browser cache would save us. And… it did! I was able to click directly to the page and load the image despite no internet. We followed what wound up being a relatively easy path to our cabin, and arrived around 1 AM.
Fortunately for us, someone was around at the lodge to give Katrina keys to the cabin, and we got settled in and asleep before 2 AM.
We had a ton on the agenda for the day, so we again packed up the car some 6 hours later. But there was a redeeming quality about the place and the day. Katrina went to find hot food, and drove past a huge elk and a couple buffalo on her way to the lodge. Yellowstone was like stepping into a whole new world, and we were on a mission.
Getting to Old Faithful took us around the lake, and driving the speed limit meant it was going to take some time. Twice I saw bison standing in picturesque places, stock still. I looked at them for a long time, and didn’t detect even a hint of movement. I laughed, and asked if they were fake. I found it amusing this notion that such a rugged beautiful place might product place mannequin buffalo to make it all seem more legit. Katrina laughed at me and that’s when “fake buffalo” became a thing.
The two places that we knew we wanted to visit were Old Faithful and the hot sprints, particularly the Grand Prismatic hot spring. Fortunately for us, they were both stops on the same route to the West Gate!
The closer we got to Old Faithful, the more traffic we encountered. The lodge and surrounding amenities was undergoing construction, so we fell into line behind a remarkable amount of vehicles on a detour. The place was crawling with people and cars, but the site was built for that kind of traffic. The parking lot alone was huge. It felt weird to be among so many people as a family. So we found parking and masked up. Loaded the stroller and found a park employee.
The ranger person knew off the top of their head about how long it would be before the geyser would perform for the crowds, and so they pointed the direction and told us we had about 15-20 minutes.
Off we went.
Again it felt like it got more and more crowded as we made our way to Old Faithful. A family was walking ahead and one of their sons dropped some cash. I pointed it out and he thanked me as he skipped over to his parents. I thought that might be Aiden some day, and hoped that someone would do for him as I did in similar circumstances.
We eventually popped out from behind a visitor center to see the whole thing play out in front of us. A big deck arranged in a semi-circle lead to the geyser, and there was a runoff stream bisecting the setup. It ran straight down the center of right and left stages. The viewing area was packed.
“I’m very weak right now, so I need you to be strong, so I can be strong.”
We didn’t have good lighting, and since we arrived late, there was basically standing room only unless we wanted to set up between the staging areas. But people were walking there, so it wasn’t a good place to be setting up or trying to contain two young children that had just been in the car for two days straight. I looked over and saw a couple with President Person (I don’t wanna write his name on this site) 2020 masks, and I felt exposed and nervous… though also amazed that they were even wearing masks in the first place.
I saw a biker dude, and some military and law-enforcement types, and I didn’t know how we and our message would be received; especially arriving almost last before the spectacle. And so I froze. Like a chicken shit. We had around 5 minutes to prepare when we walked up. Katrina knew our window of opportunity was closing fast, and anticipation was building just as steady as the pressure building beneath our feat. I was feeling it, and my resolve collapsed. She asked me if we were going to do it, and shot me a look like “this is your chance.” But I shook my head, “no.”
We had just enough room to fit in the tripod for a photo, but the family whose son had almost lost his cash strode up and took places virtually right in front of us. They weren’t a small family. So I moved my tripod enough to move them out of frame, but that was just enough to put the geyser out of view behind an incline. I looked around frantically, and then was out of time.
Old Faithful started to erupt.
We lined up a shot without our flag or Black Lives Matter sign, snapped it, enjoyed the rest of the event, and walked away. I was heart broken. And I was mad at myself for lacking the courage to step up.
We lined up again, this time for the restrooms, and then to get something to eat. It was a madhouse, with a line out the door and wrapping around down the block. As we waited in line to order food, my late resolve started setting in. Or shame, or regret, or guilt, or a mixture of all the above. I was going to be damned if I didn’t stick around for the next eruption. We drove all that way, and we spent all that money, and worked so hard, only to walk away empty-handed? No. But I had to do my research to know how long that wait for the next go around would be, and I still had to convince Katrina. And for that, I needed the help of food.
We got our food and found a place under some trees with some rocks that could serve as tables, away from the crowds. We could breathe a lil easier and remove our masks to eat. So we did. And I broke the terrible news. “You’re going to hate me,” I began. And Katrina gave me a look that said she already knew what I was up to, and that while she wasn’t happy… she understood.
An estimated 40 minutes remained before the next eruption, so we hurried back to the car for water and got to work. This time, we had time to scout a better location. I wasn’t going to waste it. I tried to get a sense of where the sun would shine the best on us while capturing a good framing of Old Faithful. I originally started out walking toward Old Faithful Lodge Cafeteria set up right next to the geyser, but realized we’d be back lit. We had to go fully to the other end of the plaza. So that’s where we set up shop, on a newly paved path between geysers called the Continental Divide Trail, away from the main staging area.
We got there early and assembled the flag. It’s a kit with three pole pieces that fit together, and little sliding eye rings to hold the flag to the pole, all topped by a plastic eagle. It was $15 at Ace Hardware. We were the only ones around at that point, but I could already feel the nerves setting in as we stood and assembled the flag. People would be curious, and they were. I sensed that Katrina was feeling pressure, as well. Anxiety seemed to be building. This time, I knew I had to fight it, and I needed help.
So I asked for it.
I said to Katrina, “I’m very weak right now, so I need you to be strong so that I can be strong.” I felt resistance from everywhere so I needed to feel supported in order to follow through with our very public demonstration of our support for Black Lives Matter. And she understood. She took the flag, and stood proudly to help me frame the shot. In the process of staging for the shot and waiting, a crowd started gathering. Several people nodded to Katrina and even voiced support.
Katrina thanked them as they passed, and one man leading a group saw us positioning the tripod and offered to take the shot for us. I quipped that he should know what he’s getting himself into, and that we were making a political statement that not everyone might agree with. He assumed we we were T***p supporters, which I found interesting, but we replied that we had a Black Lives Matter sign. He paused and then said he supported all types of ideologies, and that he got along with everyone. But he quickly followed with “You know you’re in T***p country, right?”
“Oh we know,” I replied.
Hot Springs
With our shot in hand, we could relax a bit and enjoy ourselves a little more. We drove a short distance and waited a long time to park at the Grand Prismatic Spring parking lot. Once again, it was packed.
“Look, it’s another fake buffalo!”
We parked next to the Firehole River, and Aiden ran down to throw rocks in at the water’s edge. We caught up with Tori, who was attached by her baby leash to Katrina. For good reason, too, since both the hot springs and Tori are delicate and dangerous. And so we crossed the river and started up the board walk.
Wrangling kids around a potentially dangerous crowded board walk during a pandemic was a nerve-wracking, but rewarding experience. And, as if to punctuate the times we live in, the serene scene was interrupted with the occasional pile of bison poo… and a lone black face mask thrown to the wind or maybe carelessly tossed.
This was a trip defining day. And it was an affirmation of resolve for me. I chickened out once, but, with the help of Katrina, I was able to redeem myself. I knew the next shots would be easier.
We navigated closer to the West Gate as we wound our way toward Missoula, MT, our next stop, and as we rounded the bend, I looked over and saw a Buffalo standing stock still beside the river. Look, I said, it’s another fake buffalo!
