YELLOWSTONE
NATIONAL PARK SKI TRIP
The plane ride from Albuquerque to Bozeman was uneventful. I left at 7pm and arrived at 12mn. I was tired when I got there, but still had a shuttle ride ahead. Two hours to Big Sky, where three got off and only I went on to West Yellowstone. The shuttle driver got excited when he figured out I was going into the "Yurts". He didn't look like much of a XC skier, but he sure wanted to do the "Yurts" someday. Whenever he picked up someone who had done the "Yurts", they were truly excited about their experience. Along the way, we startled eight elk on the edge of the road, first seen by their white rumps in the headlights.
I get to West Yellowstone at 3 am; the registration clerk at the Yellowstone Lodge has just given up on me. I wake up at 8 or so and stumble down to the continental breakfast only to find 20-30 Junior XC skiers from Bozeman, jazzed up for the regional Jr. Olympics. Not a seat to be found so I stand at the window and use the sill as a bar, eating my bagels and downing hot coffee while I watch it snow. Five or six inches fell during the night. My skis made the trip in good shape, but I need to pick up a couple of things. No more flammables on airlines! The baskets on my backcountry poles are shot and I want to replace them. I walk across town, amid the buzzing snow machines. Skiers are certainly outnumbered in West Yellowstone! Free Heel and Wheel is a great store. The storeowner suggests the Riverside Trail as a good afternoon ski. Freeheel@wyellowstone.com Bud Lilly's is a fly-fishing store that rents skis and doesn't have a clue.
I put together a quick sack lunch, wax my skis and off I went on the Riverside Trail, along the Madison River, just inside the Yellowstone National Park. The clouds are low and obscure the hills and mountains in the distance. It continues to snow lightly. The trail is composed of two loops, the Up River loop and the Down River loop, which together are about seven miles in length. It was about the easiest seven miles I have ever skied-very flat except for two short climbs with corresponding downhills in and out of the river flood plain. The only wildlife I encounter is mountain chickadees and ducks. Barrow Goldeneye, I believe. The weather is very warm, but my wax ices up. I put on some harder wax and it still ices up. This is not a problem I have had before. While I eat lunch, the clouds lift and I can see the mountains and bluffs of the Yellowstone Canyon in the distance. I finish the ski in easy time to make it back in time to ask about waxes at Free Heel. I buy some cold weather wax, thinking it might be the cold snow underneath which is icing up. At Free Heel they suggest I might be picking up moisture on top, then drop through to cold snow and ice up. This hypothesis seems more likely, but no easy solution. I can't figure out where to eat. It all looks bad, so I make a couple more sandwiches in my room, which go well with a cold beer. That all it takes.
I get my stuff organized and go to bed. Kari from Yellowstone Expeditions is going to pick me up at 9-9:15 in the morning and I am pooped.
It's here, the first day with Yellowstone Expeditions! We've been instructed by Erica to have our daypacks with water, an extra sweater or jacket, camera and binoculars and to be dressed for a short hike if the opportunity presents itself. I go to breakfast at seven to beat the kids, and find a table only to have it taken when I got up for another bagel and a coffee refill. The lady assumed someone had left a half-eaten breakfast behind! I take that as a cue to go back to my room, eat and finish some last minute packing. I also clean my skis thinking old wax may be making them ice up.
At exactly 9:00, I am out front looking for the snow van driven by Kari. It has turned out to be a beautiful partly sunny day and the highs are predicted to be low to mid 30's. Snowmobiles are already buzzing around. Another guy is waiting out front, and it turns out to be the guy from Texas who is also going in with Yellowstone Expeditions. He looks at my stuff and comments that I look like a real skier. I reply that I love to ski, but do not tell him I am a real "Gear Head" as well. Soon the blue Snow Van pulls up with Kari driving and the guy from New York riding shotgun. We load up, CLIMB in (these vans are HIGH), make introductions and small talk as we head towards the Park entrance along with hoards of snowmobiles.
The entrance is just on the edge of town and we are soon in the park, traveling east on the West Entrance Road, along the Madison River. It does not take long before we start seeing the wildlife. First Trumpeter Swans and ducks on the ice-free river, warmed by hot springs. During the day, we see hundreds of bison and elk, including a couple of bull elk, a bald eagle, and coyotes. The large mammals are concentrated near thermal areas and the river where forage is exposed. All of us want to see wolves. We know they are here. Kari tells us of wolf sign they have seen on their outings. The anticipation is palpable. Along the way, we stop and Kari pulls out makings for lunch. We are all starting to loosen up, and the good-natured banter that lasts the entire trip begins. "New York" is a freelance writer living in the Catskills, "Texas" a successful business owner from Dallas. Kari lives in Idaho Falls but grew up in New Mexico!
Along with short stops for wildlife and interesting hot springs, we stop at Norris Geyser Basin and spend some time exploring. The day is gorgeous, warm (relatively speaking) and we take our time. Geysers, steam vents, hot springs, mud pots and strange rock formations surround us. From the visitor center and museum we look down on Porcelain Basin, which, we assume, takes its name from its white, pearly appearance. We walk down into it among more steam vents, boiling and bubbling hot springs acidic stream runoff. What looked only white and brown from above has amazing algae of green, orange and brown. We approach Whirligig Geyser, and fumble for cameras when it abruptly erupts. Sadly, none of us got it and take some serious ribbing from Kari.
It's getting late so we head out again. Erica, the other principle in YE, left the entrance the same time we did, but went straight for camp, loaded up with departing guests, and passes us on her way out. She stops to meet the new guys (we find out later that more women visit the camp than men do). "Texas" purposely confuses her, when she tries to guess who is who. He turns out to be the trip jester and has us all laughing endlessly. We reach the camp mid to late afternoon and meet Arden, extraordinary joke teller. They get us settled in our sleeping quarters and show us the layout. There is a kitchen Yurt and a dining Yurt, both designed and built by Arden (as were the snow van modifications!) We have free run of the facilities and are encouraged to help us. The pantry is well stocked! He shows us the heated shower, heated outhouse and the sauna (ahhh..., didn't that feel good after a long day of skiing!). The sleeping "huts" are simple, four walled dwelling with a plastic tarp-like, pitched roof, bed with double sleeping bag (lined with sheets), pillows and thermostat controlled propane heater. Each has a clothesline running the length to hang wet clothes, which becomes a daily ritual after skiing. Each has lighting of some sort.
After we are settled it's time for a, YEAH, ski! We ski from camp with Kari guiding, along side the road to the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone. My wax is working great. The cleaning must have helped. The evening is beautiful, as is the light when we reach Inspiration Point and the viewpoint for the Lower Falls of the Yellowstone. We ski back in twilight and take a side route that parallels the canyon.
While we ski, Arden is cooking dinner. We sit down to abundant food, a chicken pasta dish, if I remember correctly. Arden and Kari take good care of us, and each day is up before, and up later than the guests. Conversation around the table includes plans for the next day, a series of jokes that precipitate hooting and ribbing, and alternating intellectual and juvenile topics. It's not long, however, before we are all dragging, ourselves off to bed.
West Yellowstone to Yellowstone Expeditions Camp
The next day was our first full day at Yellowstone Expeditions. The mornings are flexible, but we were each amenable, so coffee was on at 0700 and breakfast at 0800. I really wanted to get up early for a dawn ski, but can't drag myself out of bed, and we are planning a nine-miler today. So when I hear the kitchen yurt door squeak, I get up get organized and head over for coffee while I wax my skis. Planning to take my Fisher light backcountry with no metal edges today.
Yurt-O-Meal, pancakes or French toast, fresh fruit, juice were the standards. Kari makes coffee that'll make a spoon stand up in the cup or dissolve it one. I'm a long time coffee addict and I get a coffee buzz on two cups. After breakfast everybody gets there gear together, while Arden and Kari get out lunch stuff, and we all make our own to pack.
One of the guests is rusty at skiing so ops to go snowshoeing. Arden is going to take him, the remaining two get Kari. Later we find out she has been called "Scary Kari" She won't let on why. We take the snow van a few minutes West towards Norris Geyser basin to the trailhead.
Arden and the snowshoer drop us off, and will meet us around 5:30 PM at our pick up point. The plan is to ski south through Otter Meadow, across Otter Creek, so called "Gingersnap Ridge", down to Violet Hot Springs and out through Hayden Valley along Alum Creek. One reason this was chosen was the wolf kill site they had found a few days ago.
Our ski to Otter Meadow is peaceful and uneventful. We are surrounded by burn areas from the '88 fire most of the morning. We see lots of coyote, ?pine martin, ?ermine, and squirrel tracks. The trail was broken recently so it is relatively easy going. On a previous trip it was described as a "Death March" with deep, unbroken snow. It is sunny and warm. My skis ice up a little on south facing slopes, but not too bad.
We stop at Gingersnap Ridge, for gingersnaps of course. A good luck ritual. We aren't far from the kill site now. As we ski down into a bowl, with thermal melting of snow at the bottom, the numbers of tracks increase. Many are now "big puppy dogs"-wolf. Earlier we had seen them, but not so concentrated. They had been widespread and crisscrossing as if scouting, and fresher. These were older, but the coyote tracks which were also more numerous were fresher. At the bottom of the bowl, Kari points out an elk pelvis with attached femur, well picked and graying from exposure. There is also a bison skull of similar age sitting on top of the snow. Many coyote tracks come and go. There is also an elk mandible sitting in the snow, well picked but still the remaining flesh is still red. The snow around it is packed with tracks, mostly coyote. We hear a couple of raven above us on a small ridge that surrounds the bowl. As we go up to investigate, the coyote tracks increase in number and start to focus. The ravens fly off as we approach, and we see what attracted them. There is an elk skull with attached vertebral column, the same age as the mandible. Wolf tracks are around, but older than the numerous coyote tracks. We figure the wolves brought down the elk and fed to their satisfaction, then left the remains to the coyotes and raven. This bowl and surrounding ridges seem to be a favorite hunting ground. I look around from the ridge and am treated to a fantastic view of a meadow below and mountains in the distance. We leave the site to the ravens and ski towards Violet Hot Springs where we eat lunch looking down at the springs.
We ate lunch and then walked down into the Violet Springs. Otherworldly. We kept commenting on how it didn't seem real. We had to follow Kari closely and not wander so we wouldn't break through into boiling, acidic water or mud, and to limit the impact for future visitors.
Gingersnap Ridge and Wolf Kill site
The thermal areas are definitely one of the coolest things about the trip. It is not possible to convey the experience completely with photos. While walking around you are surrounded by hissing and bubbling sounds, and the smell of hot steam and sulfur. It is perceptibly warmer and the ground was often dry even if there was snow the night before. Fire and brimstone!
We spend a great deal of time exploring Violet Hot Springs and need to get moving to meet Arden at 5:30. We ski out the south side of the springs into a small valley, surrounded by hills covered with windblown and drifted snow. The other two are having problems cleaning out their boots and getting bindings fastened, so I ski ahead. Still within visual contact, but enjoying the solitude and quiet. Much of the previous track is blown over, but still visible, so trail breaking is easy. As I move towards the base of a small ridge and a climb, fresh coyote tracks join the ski tracks. The take a sharp right off the ski tracks after a hundred yards, and go to the top of another ridge above. The Kari and the other skier catch up as I inspect the tracks, my eyes following up the hill. I see ears pointing up at the ridge top! We are downwind about 150 yards, and I don't think the coyote sees us. It remains there for a few minutes, then gets up and saunters along the ridgeline to our right, into full view. It sees us now but is unconcerned, and keeps moving casually. About half way down from the ridge, the coyote stops abruptly and begins sniffing the snow and then tentatively digging with his snout. He starts digging more intensely and soon his entire body is in the hole, with only his rump and tail sticking out. He looks out of the hole periodically, looking directly at us, now about 250 yards away, as if to say, "What are you looking at? Can't a coyote have a little privacy?" He must be hunting small rodents like voles or mice, but comes up empty and moves off, further down the valley. We've spent half an hour watching, and so we better get moving too. We move east to the end of the valley, climb a gentle hill to the top of the ridge where the trees deformed by the wind and the snow is wind packed. Along the ridge for a short distance, and we can see into the Hayden Valley. But first our first real downhill run!
Kari goes first. The hill doesn't look bad, but even Kari, as light as she is, breaks through and flies headfirst. The snow is soft enough, you only hear laughing. I go next, confident that my greater weight will break through the snow early, allowing me more control. HA! Soon I am flying head first in a perfect racing dive, only I have skis on my feet. I find myself laughing while still airborne. I dive into the snow headfirst and come up with snow packed behind my glasses, laughing hysterically. "New York' goes next and with great control he makes it down the slope. We observe over the next few days that he hardly ever falls! I don't have the same fortune, but I'm not really known for holding back on the hills, unless it is a real danger.
At the bottom of this hill is a small step, and then another downhill, which we all negotiate without problem. We reach the top of the Hayden Valley proper and can see Alum Creek. There are several bison in a group near a small thermal area with exposed fodder several hundred yards away, and several Canada Geese a few yards from them. Our trail generally follows Alum Creek and crosses several small drainages that run into the creek. The snow here is windblown and crusty; the track from previous skier is covered. Kari tries to follow it for a while, but it is too much trouble so she is breaking trail in unskied snow. She only goes down a couple of inches, and compresses the crust. The other skier follows in second, and I "complain" that I am having too easy of a time and offer to break trail. Soon, however, we rearrange our order and I am following in second place and break all the way through the crust and am often knee deep. I fall forward once and when I try and catch myself, my arm punches through all the way to my shoulder. We have several stream crossings. Two, Kari makes with no problem. I cross the first and two thirds of the way my tails break through. The stream is small, so my tips are on the other bank and I find myself "kissing my tips" in a perfect ski jumping position, with only a trickle of water below. No danger of getting wet. The only way out that I can see out is to heave my body to the other bank and pull my legs and skis over behind me. Kari and Will are watching, trying not to laugh once they realize I won't get wet. My strategy works but I'm completely out of breath from the exertion and my giggling. On we plod. The next one I make across, barely. The other skier tries a different, unasked spot in each case with success. The last crossing has no snow bridge, but with my long legs I am able to side step across. Kari is the only one with a little problem, but gets only her skis wet, not her boots. Along Alum creek we see a single animal coming into the valley, along a diagonal ridgeline, running in the deep snow. About 500 yards away, it is difficult to identify. Watching through binoculars, we see it is a young elk, probably last years newborn, nearly a yearling. It's alone, no other animals to be seen and that is strange. All of the other elk, except the bulls, have been in groups. We can see it is struggling in the deep snow, trying to get to the creek where travel is easier. It makes the creek, still a long way from us, but we can see it is frantic. I stay out of sight in the creek bottom for a few moments then clambers out into the deep snow again and struggles away into the distance. We wonder if it's mother was the remains we saw earlier and if this young animal may be the next wolf feed. We near the bison and they move a little, but, within 100 yards, they stay in the same area.
We plod on as the sun sinks to the horizon. Not much daylight left and it's getting close to pickup time. We remind ourselves to turn around and look at the magnificent sunset. My tush is dragging by now, from breaking trail behind Kari. We are within site of the road where we will meet Arden and Kari starts pushing to keep up with the sun line, and reach the road before the sun goes down. She gets a hundred yards ahead, then ahead and a little to the left we see two figures snowshoeing towards us. It's Arden and his companion breaking trail out to meet us. When we meet up, we find out they have also had a great day. "Texas" is full of stories of how Arden abused him, which Arden vehemently denies. It's obvious they have had great fun with the banter all day. We again experience the "bees buzzing", our new name for the incessant snowmobiles. We didn't miss them one bit while skiing. They are limited to the road system and have to be out of the park by 6:00 or 6:30, so it doesn't last long. They won't be back till mid morning.
We reach the snow van at dusk, tired but elated by a fine day. At camp we all hang our clothes to dry while Arden and Kari begin dinner, then we hang out and have a beer or something hot to drink, enjoy the evening company (mostly bad jokes and review of the day's events) and a satisfying dinner with cheesecake for dessert. The sky is clear and moonless, so the stars are magnificent. I grin and think of Tilt! After a beer, a couple of ibuprofen and a sauna, my muscles are relaxed and I roll into bed looking forward to the day ahead.
The next day dawned clear, bright, and again it was warm. For that reason, it was decided to climb a peak, not Observation Peak I don't think, but the one directly east of it (near the red "6") on the map.
The trail leads directly from camp, through the forest. This was very similar too much of the skiing I did in Alaska, my wax was perfect and so it went quickly. So quickly we forgot to look at the tree with the grizzly claw scratches. Have to catch it on the way back. Soon we break out into the meadow that follows Cascade creek. Arden and his fellow snowshoer have the same destination, but on snowshoes are going more directly. Kari is guiding myself and the other skier, taking the scenic route. Across the meadow is flat and easy with the exception of one snow bridge that cause only minor difficulties, as Kari gets her ski tip hooked in the dip. "New York" and I watch her problems and manage to avoid repeating them. At the top of the meadow we follow a trail to Cascade Lake, and my skis are flying. This is what wax skis are all about. Glide! I break into the opening above the lake, and wait for Kari and "New York", enjoying the silence and warm sunshine. After a few minutes they have still not come out, so I back track and find them enjoying a leisurely ramble, doing some bird watching. As we come out to the Lake, I see the "race track" Kari was talking about and follow it on a long run out onto the meadow or lake, you can't really tell with the snow. It's a great fast run. The other skier follows me, each faster as the tracks get skied in. Kari is heading down as I climb back to the top and points out that you can get a "running start". I grin and get ready for another run. I'm flying this time, but when I reach the flat my right ski wanders from the track, gets caught in the crust and.. Hey, I've done this before. I'm airborne, head first with my body parallel to the ground for about six feet before I make contact with the snow and create a giant sitzmark right in the middle of the run. I need to think of a new name for the mark in the snow, because it's not from sitting! We all laugh, I brush myself off and we backtrack to a junction that takes us north, following the meadow moving towards a valley that swings behind the peak. We stop on a sunny south-facing slope for a break and decide it's a good time to put on the climbing skins. It's all up hill from here. We lost track of the snowshoers back at the lower meadow, but expect them to be ahead of us. We begin climbing, making switchbacks even with skins on. Much of the time we are in open areas or burn areas so we can see the view as we climb. At first it is very clear and we can see the Tetons. We climb and climb. The view of the surrounding valleys and mountains are spectacular. The south slope has numerous rocky exposed areas and windblown cornices, so we swing around to the north-facing slope and lose the views while we continue climbing. We find the snowshoers tracks and begin to follow them. No more switchbacks! They go straight up the hill. I can just imagine the conversation between Arden and "Texas" as they climb straight up on snowshoes. We follow them. It's slow going but we make progress. Every once in a while my skis slip, not from lack of grip, but the snow rolls underneath the ski on the steep slope. I'm bringing up the rear now. We make the saddle at the top of the valley and get blasted by wind. We find the snowshoers here. They have already gone to the summit for the view, but return with us. Wow. Tetons, Hayden Valley, the entire volcanic caldera, Yellowstone Canyon. It's a little hazy now, so in the photos the Tetons are difficult to see, but Arden and Kari tell us it is unusual to see them at all. This sunny weather on our trip is not the norm. "Texas" talks loud above the wind "THIS DALLAS BOY AIN'T MADE FOR THIS" with a big grin on his face. After enjoying the view, we get tired of the wind. The snowshoers have already had lunch and tell us of a spot out of the wind in the saddle. They head back and we head for lunch.
Lunch is a delight, sitting on a log, basking in the sun and out of the wind. We have a choice, to continue following the ridge, up to a higher spot, or to ski several connecting bowls down. None of us feel prepared to continue the climb and the downhill from up there looks daunting. So we skirt off to the left and catch the first bowl. The grade is probably only 15 degrees or so, but we are all on Nordic skis. I have my Fischer E-99's with metal edges at an old-fashioned 205cm length. The other two are on shorter skis for their height and weight, but also touring skis. Kari, our fearless guide leads us down, demonstrating telemark turns, which she gracefully links. The snow is crusty on top, but I easily break through. I head down next, but either from lack of experience or the length of my skis in crusty snow my tidemark turns degenerate into snowplow or stem turns. Kari is yelling something that sounds like nonsense. I find out later she is saying "more tea" with a British accent and pretending to hold a tea tray as she shows how you shift your weight to make the turn. It still sounds insane. In this situation, my caution takes over and I am able to make it down the first bowl without serious mishap. "Catskills" has excellent balance and quickly picks up the telemark and links several turns down. We continue down several bowls in a similar fashion. Each of us has minor mishaps, but no serious falls and we are never in any danger. We reach the end of the last bowl and enter an alpine fir grove. The elk have been everywhere here. Large "postholes" are in and around the ski track. They have also stomped out areas under the trees, probably shelter during inclement weather. We have a delightful ski though this forest and back into the meadow along Cascade Creek. It is a dream ski south through the meadow, and back into the forest near the camp. This time we remember to inspect the trees with the grizzly claw marks. Not far at all from the camp. There are not many backpackers in Yellowstone during the summer months, apparently from fear of grizzlies. When we reach the camp, none of us are ready to quit. We decide to dump our packs and ski The Roller Coaster, a 3 K trail that begins in the camp and ends very close. It's a blast. Again my waxable skis are in their element. I'm able to carry a lot of speed down hills and up the next hill, over the hump. At one point, I carry my speed over the hump and as I go by notice that most of the skiers stop here before continuing. I roar down the hill, the trail drops from beneath me and I'm at zero G's for a split second only to have the trail suddenly rise. My chin nearly hits my knees as my body is compressed and all of the air is forced from my lungs in a grunt. I pitch forward and roll into the snowy hill, landing in a perfect position with my skis downhill from my body and easily get up (laughing of course). The others are standing at the top of the hill (laughing of course). I watch from the sidelines as Kari barely makes it through. "Catskills" comes through and falls almost exactly where I did (no, not because he hit the large divot I left!). We continue on and finish the loop, just what we needed to finish off the day. Back at camp, our nightly routine follows, but we have new people. The author of Cross Country Ski Vacations http://www.xcvacations.com/, Jon Wiesel of Bozeman, has checked in as a guest, brought in by Erica of Yellowstone Expeditions. Jon is a quick wit, and gives "Texas" a run for his money. This is possibly the liveliest evening we have seen in the Yurt camp. Jon asks Arden if our group is typical of his groups, and we all guffaw and offer Arden condolences if it is so! Some to showers, some to sauna and off to bed. Tomorrow Kari drives a snow van out, and Erica will lead us for our last full day of skiing.
That night we are all awakening by pelting snow on the plastic roofs of our sleeping quarters. I worry a little because it sounds like rain, but not enough to get up and check. Later I hear little mini avalanches as the snow slides down the pitched roof. We wake to find about six inches of fresh snow. Jon learns the morning routine, Kari takes off with a round of goodbyes and we load up in the snow van for a short trip to our next trailhead. We drive part way up the road to Dunraven Pass, and park at the big bend in the road (just below the "I" in "National" on the map)
We ski on the road towards Dunraven pass. This road must be closed to snowmobiles, because we don't see or hear the buzzing bees. The ski up the road is a piece of cake, just a gradual climb. We stop and try some tele's on a slope below the road, I continue to have the same problems, but am able to stem/snow plow turn down the slope uneventfully, if not gracefully. Erica does some really nice telemark turns. I think she wanted to check us out before the next leg of our adventure. We climb back out (for every up there is a down, for every down there is an up!) and continue up the road. We reach an open area to the northeast and above the road, on the slope of Dunraven Peak. We drop our packs. It's time to climb boys and girls so we can try some more telemark turns. First, however, Erica gives us a quick lesson in assessing avalanche risk. We estimate the slope first, then measure it. It estimate 20, but it's only 15 degrees. We dig a pit and inspect the snow layers, look at crystalline structure with magnification and test the snow's tendency to fracture with stress. No danger on this slope, under these conditions so we climb and climb, traversing the slope and switching back, marking the limits of our downhill run as we do so. Once or twice Erica checks to see how we are doing, and asks if we are willing to go up farther. No one complains and we all shrug our shoulders, "Sure, why not?" so up we go. Finally we are about out of skiable snow so we stop. There is a great slope below. As I inspect it, I realize my course is going to look a lot like it did climbing. Traverses and switchbacks. We head down. Erica gives us a great tip that works well for me, to use the traverses to practice telemarking by "scalloping" the slope making slight downhill and uphill telemark turns to control your speed and direction. I start to get the feel of the turns. Each of us takes a little tumble now and then, but have great fun, and make it down without mishap. Up till now the weather has been pretty cloudy and blustery, but about now the clouds break up and the sun peaks through. We choose not to go all of the way to Dunraven Pass because of the time, and drop below the road into the top of a small valley that will eventually contain Sulfur Creek, and begin to find our way to Washburn Hot Springs. The sun is out full now, and we stop on a south facing slope, stomp out a picnic area complete with seats and eat lunch.
After lunch we continue down the alongside creek watershed, until we reach the bottom and enter an old forest. My wax skis that have been wonderful soon become very cumbersome. The forest is full of deadfall, and with the relatively light snow this season; we are constantly climbing logs on our skis. Some I can maneuver by putting my kick zone on top and over I go. But the larger ones it is like climbing little (and not so little) humps in the trail. The others on waxless skis seem to have a better time of it, but its still work for them. I still get more glide on the flats and downhills, though. I fall at least once coming down the trail, get to the bottom of the hill and have to avoid the others standing at the bottom, not thinking someone would glide that far.
On through the forest we go. The snowshoers also came this way to see the Washburn Hot Springs, and we follow their trail. They had no problem with the deadfall, going over like four-wheel drive. We finally come to the edge of the hot springs and there is even more difficult deadfall, right at the edge. We have to remove our skis to explore, and when we do we are immediately up to our crotches in snow and deadfall. Care is required or someone will get a sprained ankle or worse. I have to lie down on the snow and crawl on my belly to make it to the edge of the dirt. When we make it the going gets easy. Erica warns us to follow closely her tracks and she is following Arden’s from earlier that day. This is where Arden broke through several years ago. This is a really cool thermal area. One mudpot is named Ink Pot because the mud is a very dark charcoal color. There are many large steam vents and we test the pH of the water-2.0. Very caustic. Even the dirt is acidic. One place we see what looks like a sulfur deposit, but not quite the right color. We test it and it is very caustic as well, but alkaline 10.0 it think, like lye. We are very surprised and not sure of the chemistry there. We work our way uphill through the area and reach the top, suddenly a small snow squall hits and the weather is blustery again. The clouds and steam, with rays of light showing through are very dramatic. We finish the loop and struggle back to our skis and to get them on.
The way is still difficult for a while. I slip on one log, fall forward and my entire ski pole disappears beneath the snow and gets entangled with the underlying branches. At one meadow, Erica and I decide to follow an older ski track rather than today’s snowshoe trail. The going gets easier as we cross less deadfall. The other two stay with the snowshoe trail and we keep in voice contact. A fresh coyote track joins our ski trail. The tracks are close together, but as we ski on become a lope and then a run, then suddenly take a hard right into the forest. That one was right in front of us!
We get to the slope that steeply rises back up to the road. I have little if any wax left so I take a minute to put on my skins. Erica and the others continue, but it is worth it. I make it easily up the slope. Arden is due at 5:30 and its 5:20. Erica and I wait; the others continue to ski up the road a few hundred yards to where we started in the morning. When Arden shows up, they decide to ski the mile or two back to camp, along the road. I'm satisfied and not really in the mood for road skiing so I take the easy ride out.
Last night in the Yurts! I can't believe it’s almost over. We have a feast with surprises (don't worry Arden and Erica, I won't ruin it). I'm tired so I retreat to bed around nine to read. Funny, my little journal started pretty detailed, but now I only jot single words and phrases to jog my memory.
The next morning is another beautiful day, the snow has passed. We all pack up so it won't take long when we have finished skiing and need to head out. Breakfast is huge. I can't believe all the food they put on the table. One opportunity on the trip is to go to Old Faithful, which "Texas" wants to do. It is about a three-hour trip in the snow van. The rest of us want to ski more. So we take two snow vans and drop one at our finish point, Arden takes us to our drop off and then they head for Old Faithful. We aren't likely to see them again, so it's another round of good-byes.
Today we are skiing the rim of Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone. We start near Inspiration Point, go southwest along the rim, cross Chittendon Bridge and then northeast along the rim to Artists Point.
I didn't want a repeat of yesterday, so I had taken my skis into the dining hut and waxed them. I extended my kick zone and ironed in a nice thick layer of wax. Arden has a waxing iron that you heat up on the stove. It works great. I have the best of both worlds, good kick and good glide. Today we don't get very far from the snowmobiles. The road is always not far, but they do stay on the road so we rarely use the same trail. The trail is mostly gently rolling with great views of the canyon. Early on we come to a place where a tree has fallen across the trail. It is at a very awkward height. Erica chooses under. Jon just did it, I don't remember how. I choose to try and go over, sort of a side step, kicking my ski high. As my ski is up in the air my other ski slips, and I find myself sitting on the trail with both my skis hanging over the edge of a drop off. No danger but my skis are massively tangled and it takes me a moment to get organized. "Catskills" is a quick learner, and goes over without a problem. We kick and glide along the rim and get views of Crystal Falls, frozen this time of year and the Upper Falls. We can't see the Lower Falls from this side. We stop on the Chittendon Bridge and watch the river and a few ducks for a little while as the snowmobiles go by. They look at us puzzled, as if wondering what we could be looking at. On across the bridge and back onto a trail following the rim. We get more views of the Upper falls and pass several scenic viewpoints that we share with the snowmobilers. Everyone is polite. Jon tries talks to a few whom express an interest in skiing. There is one viewpoint along the trail, which is otherwise inaccessible, and we stop there for lunch. The day is magnificent and the lighting wonderful. After lunch we do some pretty good climbing and soon reach Artists Point, which is where the snow van is left. Several photographers are set up for the classic view of the Canyon and it's hard to get a picture without someone walking in front of you. And we are done. It's about 2:00. Happy at having enjoyed another wonderful ski, we are also a little sad that it is coming to a close. Back to camp, last minute packing, load the snow van with trash and we leave the Yurt camp.
So we load up in the snow van and head back to civilization. We stare out the windows at the scenery. At first we don't see much in the way of wildlife. We do have one final treat though, a 3k ski on a road which is closed during the winter to vehicle use and used as a cross country ski trail. I start to get down my E-99's with the metal edges, but Erica stops me. I'll want my lighter, faster skis. This is a kick and glide trail she says. I get them down and quickly slap on a layer of wax. I haven't used them since the Violet Springs/Hayden Valley ski. This ski is named Virginia Cascades for the waterfall beside the trail, on the Gibbon River.
Erica drops us at the east end of the trail, and will pick us up at the other end, where the two roads meet again. I take off, and Erica was so right. Kick and glide, what a beautiful trail. The Cascades are just that, the river falls like a veil over the rocks for 75 feet or so at a 30 or 40 degree grade. I ski easily and the trail follows the river canyon the entire way. There are several overlooks. Somebody has written in the snow-"Look", and a few yards farther "Cool View". The trail ends too soon, but brings a big grin. The perfect aperitif!
We load up again and travel towards Madison Junction. We see hoards of bison and elk. No bulls in the larger groups, but in three miles along the Gibbon River we see eight or so bull elk. We get to the park gate. It feels really weird. Into West Yellowstone. Erica has spoken with Arden on the radio, the weather has been so warm that asphalt is showing and the snow van cannot drive to The Yellowstone Lodge where I am staying, so Arden meets us with a van that has these round things instead of tracks and skis. It's only 200 yards, but Arden insists on driving me. We say goodbye to Jon from Bozeman and "Catskills", who are going back to Bozeman together after the get some dinner. I get checked in and Arden says goodbye, but the Lodge owner wants to talk business so they go in the back. In my room I find that "Texas" was looking for me. Arden dropped him off earlier. I call his room but he's not in so I wander off to find dinner. I meet "Texas" walking back from the store, so he joins me. We go to the closest place that is supposed to have decent food, and are led to our table, only to find the other two guys from the trip, half way through dinner. We moan to the hostess, "There's no way we can sit next to these guys, this won't do?" She looks puzzled and we laugh, join the other and hear all about the trip to Old Faithful. Our "Yellowstone Expedition" is over. I have two more days in West Yellowstone, to explore and ski. The others, however, I will not see again-at least on this trip.
Thanks to Arden, Erica and Kari for their hospitality and expertise during the visit. To learn more about them, the trails, the vans, and the yurts or to see better photos than mine, go to Yellowstone Expeditions(constructed by Arden!)
Thanks to my wonderful, generous and supportive (did I forget anything guys?) wife for the gift of this trip.
Snowmobile use is very controversial in Yellowstone. The Greater Yellowstone Coalition provides the environmentalist view of managing the ecosystem.