It has been awhile since landscape has surprised me, yet this is what the open vistas from Mt Washburn looking over the confluence of the Lamar and Yellowstone Rivers did. To look upon the rolling grasslands of the valley, golden with August tint reaching up to the sides of the Abskorba-Beartooth Range seemed to crack open my soul to such place. Not since I first gazed at the open realm of the Grand Canyon earlier this year have I been layed so bare before a view. It was like being present on the first day man awoke. I could see why those who passed through here long ago made it our first of many National Parks.
The approach out to the Valley of the Yellowstone from Bozeman, makes it's way from the edge of the Plains at Livingston, through a crack in the battlement walls made by the towering Abskorba-Beartooth Range. The peak tops obscured by clouds enveloping their true heights, the River meanders and races from flood plain to gorge, with each turn building the travellers anticipation. Finally, bringing one to the Arch at Gardner and enterence to this Temple of the Wild. There is a ambiance of Pilgramage found there at the gate. People with far off license plates all flock to this place to bare witness to what is one of the national tradition of what "Americans should see before they die..." I think about this as we round through the roads towards Mammoth Hotsprings, about these iconic places upon our land. Great parks of the Wild like Yellowstone, Yosemite and the Grand Canyon. Reminders of our tragic past Gettysburg, Arlington and Manzanar. Symbols of our greater hope like Cape Cannaveral, Lincoln Memorial and Great Arch of the West. All these places have a story to tell, and even more nooks and side roads of America paint the texture of this experience. Needless to say I am overwelmed by the thoughts of how many views and lives have followed through these places...
We follow the tourist road, deciding to leave the Wild Backcounty for another time which we can probe her inner depths. Along this route we seem to see the same people from stop to stop. Mammoth, Washburn, Canyon Village, Yellowstone Lk, Old Faithfull and Grand Prismatic Springs. Each have a grandure to them, yet I am caught more watching how these fellow travellers interact with the Natural World that surreounds them. For many, they are children of a city life, taken to the road on the classic family endeavor. Maybe this is there first experience with what I find common day life in my world. Such as sleeping upon the ground with only the stars ar your ceiling, or watching elk graze the field, feeling the resonance of a great waterfall plunge in a canyon or seeing a squirrel steal your lunch before your eyes. This state of discovery effects all of us differently. But in the end, the result changes us in fundamental ways. To watch as thousands gather before Old Faithful, and absolute silence fall over them as the geyesr springs to life. This unanticipated reaction draws me in closer to understand the human side of the interaction with the Wild.
At my side in this journey is my partner, a soulmate that sees and feels the same Green Fire. Our conversations weave back and forth on topics of society, the wild and our own course in life. We grown closer with each bend and stop as she drives the roads along the Yellowstone River. Gazing out from the switchbacking road ascending to Dunraven Pass, her golden hair seems to blend into he horizon, a smile showing from deep within. I realize that I will likely spend the rest of my days following long trails, rivers and roads with this woman. Taking from each place our own point of view, yet sharing the experience together. To feel a love of life and the wild spirit within, I drink deep in the moment.
My final glimpse of the Yellowstone is while sitting along the Madison River. Watching the river flow by, paitient fly fisherman in a tranquil zen-like state, casting 10 and 2 over and over again, while flys dance at thw waters edge, trout bounding. A golden eagle sits atop a stag tree overlooking the bend in the river. The moment seems to have a clarity of peacefulness, where the world seems to be vital and real to the very touch. Traffic slows behind us as travellers gaze off at the Madison, wondering what it is that we see, is it bear, bison or elk? Yet it is all that lays before us that has caught our attention.. I wonder as they leave the Valley of the Yellowstone, what it is that they see, what will they bring home and will it draw them back again desiring more? I know it will myself, and gaze at a map with the spell sweeping over to go deeper...
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