Physical State of Matt #28: WYOMING

It will come as no surprise to anyone who knows me that I can be a bit of a contrarian. Several people have raved to me about the natural beauty of Wyoming and Yellowstone National Park, but I went into the state with low expectations. It’s just mountains, desert, and a dumb geyser, what’s the big deal? If so few people lived in the state (it has the fewest people per square mile in the contiguous 48), I was sure it couldn’t be as special as all that. I was very, very wrong. 

YELLOWSTONE

My ambitious plan to get up and out at dawn fell by the wayside when my alarm went off. Instead, I packed up at 9:00 and decided to have a big breakfast at the Running Bear Pancake House. It would be good to have a full belly for my hike and the park would still be there at 10:00. 

There was some traffic at the park entrance, but it went quickly. The park was more crowded than any national park I’d seen, but it was manageable. I got the sense that during peak summer the crowds must be overwhelming. 

Like other parks I’d been to, there were frequent turnouts to stop and take pictures. Bison mingled on the grass, some very close to the road. 

Yellowstone is the eighth largest national park in the US clocking in at nearly 3,500 square miles. For comparison, that’s larger than Delaware and over three times larger than Rhode Island. It’s also worth noting that 6 of the 7 parks larger than Yellowstone are located in the vast wilderness of Alaska. 

Yellowstone is the oldest national park in the US, having been designated as such in 1872 by President Ulysses S. Grant, and is widely considered the oldest national park in the world. Some would argue however, that the title belongs to the Bogd Khan Uul Mountain in Mongolia, which the government protected in 1778 long before the term “national park” came into existence. 

I had been driving through the park for about 15 minutes when I saw the first plumes of steam on the horizon. It's not just a dumb geyser - Yellowstone has over 10,000 hydrothermal features including hot springs, geysers, fumaroles, and mud pots. Fumaroles are holes in the ground that release volcanic gases and steam.

I’d never seen a bear in the wild. I had desperately wanted to see one while on my Alaska trip, but it was the wrong season so they weren’t out. I saw my first wild bear after being in Yellowstone only 20 minutes.

One of the turnouts was jammed with cars and the traffic was moving at a crawl. Dozens of people stood outside of their parked cars, facing across the road and taking pictures. A ranger was standing on the opposite side of the road yelling at the crowd to get back into their cars. A hundred feet or so behind the ranger was a mama bear and her cub, just hanging out. I snapped a few pictures while I inched along past this scene. I’d finally seen my first wild bear, but it wasn’t to be the last of the day.

I arrived a short time later at the trailhead for the hike I’d selected - Imperial Geyser via Fairy Falls - a 7 mile out and back. I’d selected this one because the reviews were great and said it wasn’t too crowded. The parking lot was large and about half full. The path was wide and well manicured. I was worried that the reviews had misled me and I'd be surrounded by people for the whole hike, but I kept going anyway.

Signs along the path told guests in strong terms not to swim in the water, which made me laugh out loud. If someone did that it would be a sure-fire candidate for the Darwin Awards, which are selected each year from people who died the absolutely stupidest deaths, thereby removing themselves from the gene pool. 

A small sign along the path indicated an uphill detour to the overlook of Grand Prismatic Spring, which I took. I was rewarded with an epic sight. When you see pictures of the spring, it’s tempting to think it must be photoshopped, nothing natural could look like that - but it does.

Ferdinand Hayward, the leader of the first federally funded exploration of this land, said:

”Nothing ever conceived by human art could equal the peculiar vividness and delicacy of color of these remarkable prismatic springs. Life becomes a privilege and a blessing after one has seen and thoroughly felt these incomparable types of nature's cunning skill.”

The spring measures between 200 and 330 feet across at various points, and has wooden walkways that allow visitors to get close to it. Yellowstone’s springs get their vivid colors from thermaphiles, bacteria or other organisms that grow at high temperatures. The temperature reaches 190 degrees Fahrenheit at the center of the spring where superheated water is pushed up from 121 feet down. 

The few organisms that can live at that extreme temperature are colorless, so the center of the spring is the vivid blue of deep clear water. Toward the edges, the water gets shallower and the temperature drops to 130 degrees. Each concentric ring of color is caused by different organisms that can live at these lower temperatures. If you want to nerd out, you can learn more about the science here. 

The first landmark of the hike was Fairy Falls. A slender stream cascaded 200 feet down within the alcove of a sheer cliff that it carved over many millennia. Despite the day being in the 70s, a canopy of ice still clung to the cliff toward the top of the falls - probably because no sun had made it that far into the alcove that time of year.

I sat on a fallen tree and cooled off in the fine spray. A chipmunk ran onto the three a few feet from me and looked at me expectantly. Surprised by its fearlessness, I slowly held out my hand. It ran toward me, stopped a few inches away, then jumped down and took off through the underbrush. It must have gotten accustomed to getting treats from hikers and decided that I didn’t have anything and wasn’t worth its time. 

The rest of the way to Imperial Geyser was practically deserted. Apparently the falls were the big draw and few visitors continued past them, which was fine by me.

If the Imperial Geyser was anywhere else but a couple of miles from Grand Prismatic Spring, it would be a marvel that drew people from all around. As it was, I saw maybe ten people the whole time I was there.

This spring ranges from 70 to 100 feet across, and has the same orange and yellow hues around the edges. The geyser within the spring erupted for about thirty seconds every few minutes, blasting hot water up a dozen feet or more. The ground was pocked with dozens of mud pots, which steamed and burbled softly.

I decided to take the small (probably unofficial) path that went straight up the steep hill nearby. It offered a great vantage point from which I could watch the geyser erupt.

Clearly I wasn’t the only one who had been up there. The ground was littered with hundreds of piles of desiccated buffalo shit. From there I could see Fairy Falls and the steam from Grand Prismatic Spring in the distance.

On the return journey I walked along the stream that carried water downhill from Imperial Geyser. Its bed was the same vivid orange as the edges of the springs. 

I really enjoy the exploration aspect of hiking - you never know what’s going to be around the next corner. Because of this, I much prefer loops to out & backs. About a third of the way back, I discovered a new path that looped around a different way, ending back at the same destination. It would add a few miles to my hike, but I didn’t see anyone else on it and it was new ground, so I took it.

The path first led me through a maze of clear bubbling pools and out onto a vast grassy field. A few bison graved in a copse of trees in the middle. It then circled around past Goose Lake and merged with a larger path on its way back to the trailhead. Suddenly, I rounded a corner to discover three bison moseying toward me along the path. 

It was exciting, but also rather unnerving. Bison are gentle creatures, but they’re also massive and can really fuck you up if they feel like it. They showed no signs of stopping and I figured, since this was their home (and they weighed about 1,500 pounds), that they had the right of way. I veered off the path about 30 feet. When they were even with me, they decided that they'd arrived at the grass they wanted to eat and meandered off the path, right in my direction.

Without making any sudden movements I got up and went further away, stepping over dead, fallen trees. I’d seen lots of bison from the safety of my car, but not on foot, and not this close. Thankfully they didn’t care about me. Giving them a wide berth, I rejoined the path and pushed on. 

The last part of the path circled Grand Prismatic Spring at a distance. The steam rising from it glowed in colors ranging from orange to blue, reflecting the color of the pool below it. Surreally, the visitors on the wooden path looked as if they were enshrouded in the multi-hued steam

I finally made it back to my car. I’d been gone for a few hours and had walked for 10 miles. My feet were dead tired, but it had easily been a top 5 all time hike. 

I felt like I couldn’t go to Yellowstone without seeing Old Faithful, so that was my next stop. The parking lot was massive and about half full. Inside the visitors’ center, which led through to the geyser’s viewing area, was a sign posted when the next eruption was going to occur (with a 10 minute margin for error). 

Park employees time each eruption and, with 90% accuracy, can predict the time of the following eruption. The consistency of the geyser’s plumbing make the eruptions very reliable - hence, the name. 

I had about 30 minutes to kill before the next one, so I wandered around, checking out the educational displays and finally staked out my spot on one of the benches along the edge of the large circular viewing area. 10 minutes before the estimated eruption time other people began filtering in. By the time the geyser started gurgling hundreds had gathered. 

Old Faithful was pretty awesome. It shoots 120-186 feet into the air, depending on the pressure build up. However, although Imperial Geyser was less “impressive”, I much preferred the experience of watching it all by myself. I was annoyed watching Old Faithful with hundreds of people who were pushing and talking throughout its eruption. 

I grabbed some lunch and visited the gift shop. I asked the girl at the register what else I should see in the park, and she recommended the Lamar Valley in the northeast corner where she had recently seen a pack of wolves. So that’s what I did. 

My drive there took me around Yellowstone Lake, it’s glassy waters a deep aqua despite the cloud cover. 

Next I stopped quickly at Sulphur Cauldron, but the oppressive smell chased me away after taking a couple of quick pictures.

Miles later, I followed a sign leading me to Artist Point on the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone. I’d never heard of this Grand Canyon before, just the one in Arizona. The sight of the Upper Falls on the frothy Yellowstone River from the viewpoint was stunning. The yellow sandstone of the cliffs along the shores, from which the river and the park get their name, was vivid in the emerging sunlight.

The road then wound up through a mountain pass with sweeping views, snow still covering the surrounding peaks and persisting in patches along the road. 

Coming down the mountain, I slowed to a stop when I came upon a dozen cars stopped in the road going both directions. I got out of my car to see what was going on. There was another mama & baby bear rooting around for food in the wooded hills a couple hundred feet from the road and people had stopped to gawk and take pictures. 

Further downhill there was a similar scene with people taking pictures of a bear that was sleeping on a sturdy branch far up in a tree. I drove by slowly, but didn’t stop to take any pictures. It’s hilarious that within the span of 8 hours I went from “I would be over the moon to see a wild bear” to “oh, it’s just another bear”. 

As I reached the foothills of the mountains, a herd of bison lined both sides of the road, picking through the sagebrush. The new calves seemed curious about these “car” things.

Traffic, thankfully already moving through the park at a modest speed, slowed way down to pass through the herd, stopping when the animals decided to cross the road. One car ahead of me got a little too close and a bison charged at the car. The car sped off and the bison returned to walking along the road like nothing had happened. 

Further along, I saw another cluster of cars on the right side of the road and pulled off to see what had gotten everyone’s attention this time. A short walk downhill brought me to a lookout spot atop a hill. Before me was a vast emerald valley with a river and several little streams winding through it. Snow capped peaks loomed in the distance. Hundreds of bison dotted the valley, which stretched as far as I could see. 

Much to my surprise I began to cry. To be clear, this wasn’t a single stoic tear that ran down my cheek, I wept. I wept at the valley's majestic beauty. I wept because this was how native people must have experienced the land hundreds of years ago and so little of it still looks so untouched. I wept because I felt incredibly lucky to have experienced it and I wondered how many more generations would have the same opportunity. 

I was surprised by this reaction. I’ve seen some beautiful things in my life, but I’d never been this overwhelmed by nature before. After meditating on the valley for a while, I wiped my cheeks, got back in my car and headed for the northwest entrance to the park. I figured I’d find a place to crash there and then drive to Jackson in the morning. 

Ahead, I saw movement along the side of the road, stopped and threw my flashers on. A fox trotted along the shoulder with its recent catch clutched in its jaws just as chill as you please. It crossed the road right in front of me and carried on as if I wasn’t even there. 

I exited the park and shortly found myself in Cooke City, just over the border in Montana. Like West Yellowstone, the town was just a jumping off point for people visiting the park, but Cooke City was much smaller. Cars lined the streets, but there was little activity. It seemed early still, but the late spring light was deceiving and it was already past 8:00pm. I discovered that no restaurants were still open, and accommodations were full up as well. 

Looking at the map, I realized that I was on the opposite corner of the park from my next destination and the shortest route to get there would take me right back through the park. In a snap decision, I grabbed some chips and an ice cream at the gas station and headed back the way I’d come. 

By the time I made it back to the Lamar Valley, the sun was setting behind the hills with deep salmon hues. 

Traffic thinned out quickly and I was practically on my own in the park after nightfall. Well, there weren't any other people at least. The bison were still hanging out on the road, and at one point I came across a bear in the road as well. Once it saw me, it began jogging away along the road.

Watching its furry butt undulate in my headlights as it lumbered away was cute and comical, though I’m sure I would have felt very differently if I’d not been in the safety of my car.  The bear finally realized it was much easier to get off the road than to keep running ahead of me, so it turned and ran off into the dark. 

The drive back to West Yellowstone took about two and a half hours - the park is huge! I got there after 11:00 and all the restaurants there were closed too. I found that they were still serving slices on the bar side of the Wild West Pizzeria and Saloon, so I grabbed a couple of pepperoni. My plan for the morning was to drive the Teton Scenic Byway to Jackson, so I booked myself a hotel in Driggs, Idaho, right across from the Wyoming border. I checked in around 2am and crashed hard.

JACKSON & GRAND TETON

The next morning I hit the byway with coffee in hand. When crossing between states, I’ve mostly been on highways, though I’ve been on some smaller roads and noticed the trend on those where travelers put their stickers on the Welcome To signs. I stopped at the border to admire the stickers and may or may not have added my own - allegedly. 

The Scenic Byway, as you would imagine, offered sweeping views of Jackson Hole as I wound my way down the far side of the Teton Mountain Range. I had always been confused what the difference was between Jackson and Jackson Hole. Also, why the hell was it called a hole anyway?

Jackson Hole is the 47-mile valley that contains the towns of Jackson, Teton Village, Wilson, and Moose. Early American trappers called flat valleys surrounded by mountains “holes”, and narrow valleys “hollers”. I thought perhaps this latter term might be because of the echoes you can get within narrow valleys when you shout, but it’s thought to be a derivation of the word “hollow”. Using the term “holler” for yelling comes from the Middle English word “hollo”, which means to shout. So there’s your etymology lesson for the day.

I’d come to this spot because I wanted to visit the Grand Teton National Park and go for a mountain hike. The Teton Mountain Range is the youngest mountain range in the US, which accounts for its steep, jagged profile. It’s only about 6-9 million years old. Most of the Rocky Mountain Range, of which they are a part, is more like 50-80 million years old, and the Appalachian Mountains are closer to 300 million.

The mountain range originally got the name “Les Trois Tetons” from French-Canadian trappers, which translates as “The Three Breasts”. The three tallest peaks reminded them of breasts, which is understandable I guess. If I were out in the wilderness for months at a time I would inevitably have sex on my mind as well. So the Grand Teton, the tallest mountain in the range, means large breast. Can’t make this shit up. 

I had been to Jackson Hole and the Tetons once twenty years prior. My friend Brad, who I visited in MASSACHUSETTS, and I attended the Jackson Hole International Film Festival to screen the short film we’d produced, “Let’s Love Hate”.

The day after the festival wrapped, Brad suggested we go for a hike up the Tetons. Jackson has an elevation of over 6,000 feet, and the Grand Teton tops out at 13,775 feet. I was still a smoker at the time, but not one to back down from a challenge, so I agreed. 

My recollection is that we went off path or lost the path at some point, but kept picking our way up and up and up. We hadn’t brought enough water with us so we had to refill our bottles in a mountain stream flowing downhill beside us. I was struggling, but Brad insisted on making it to the tree line, so we kept going and kept going.

Eventually we were forced to admit that, although it looked like it was so close, the tree line was still really far away and we weren’t going to make it there and back down before we lost the light. My legs were jelly on the return trip, giving out on me more than once. Occasionally to this day we will refer to an unrealistically ambitious plan as “getting to the tree line”.

I pulled into Jackson midday to grab lunch. Jackson is a tourist town, but it’s busy year-round. In the winter it’s got world-class skiing, and in the summer it gets outdoor enthusiasts visiting the national park, destination weddings, and more. The vibe is ski town mixed with Old West kitsch.

George Washington Memorial Park sits in the center of downtown Jackson. It is referred to by locals as Town Square. The park features four large arches at each corner of the park made of elk antlers, which have become an icon of the area. They are replaced every 30-40 years and are sourced primarily from local boy scouts picking them up at the nearby National Elk Refuge. Bull elk shed their antlers every year. 

After lunch I headed north to the national park. I had decided to hike the 6-mile Taggert Lake and Bradley Lake Loop. The day was bright with few clouds. The first portion of the hike was all uphill but unlike the trip twenty years prior I had the lung capacity to enjoy it, I’d brought enough water, and I stuck to the path. 

The mountain air was so clean it tasted sweet. The bright blue of the sky and the deep green of the trees were punctuated with color from various spring wildflowers that were in bloom. I had thought that I would be sore and tired from my hike the previous day. But despite a nagging blister on my toe I was in feeling great, energized by being in the beautiful outdoors two days in a row. 

The modest 800 ft elevation climb was totally manageable and the views of the valley were striking. Taggert and Bradley Lakes were crystal clear, fallen trees and rocks visible through their chilly alpine waters. At one point a footbridge led over a mountain stream that thundered downhill, swollen with snowmelt. It was a stunner of a hike. 

CENTRAL WYOMING

Rather than stay the night in Jackson, I headed straight out from the park toward Laramie, where I had decided to stay for several days. I wasn’t sure where I was going to stay that night along the way, but I figured I’d just stop when I got tired. 

The Tetons were visible behind me for many miles, then the road wound through other, smaller, wooded mountains. Then the scenery changed. One of the things that struck me about Wyoming was how many different landscapes it has. If you ask someone to close their eyes and picture the American West, whatever mental image they conjure up can probably be found in Wyoming. 

The majestic mountains and pine trees of the Northwest gave way to smaller mountains and valleys of brown and red grasses, still freeing themselves from patches of snow. 

Next there was the ochre desert and steep cliffs with brightly colored strata. 

Then there were the vast plains - large grassy stretches used for grazing and wild areas thick with sagebrush. Groups of antelope frequently bounded through the fields to my left and right. 

The following day in the Southeast, first were the hills and canyons made of angular red rock.

And finally the wide open desert of sandy dirt and dead grass. 

I stopped for gas in Dubois at the Giant Jackalope Exxon Country Store, which claimed to have the largest jackalope in the world. The jackalope is a uniquely American oddity, and I always wondered what its origins were. 

For those not familiar with the jackalope, it's a fictional creature which is a cross between a jackrabbit and an antelope - basically a large bunny with antlers. You see them in tourist shops all across the US, primarily in the west. 

The jackalope was the creation of the Herrick brothers in the 1930's. These Douglas, Wyoming based taxidermists decided one day to put antelope horns on stuffed rabbit heads and sell them through a local hotel. The idea was a hit and soon jackalopes were being recreated by taxidermists all across the country. 

photo credit: Cowboy State Daily

The jackalope is featured in the logo for the town of Douglas. In 2005 Wyoming’s State Legislature voted to make it the state's official mythical creature. It’s good to see government focusing on the things that matter. 

As the afternoon bled into evening, I drive through the Wind River Reservation and saw a small homemade sign pointing to the right directing to the Sacajawea Cemetery. I was intrigued, but it was getting late and I was tired. I stopped for the night just outside the reservation in Lander, and had a generous prime rib dinner at The Oxbow. 

In the morning I returned to the Wind River Reservation. The way to the cemetery took me a few miles off the main highway along dusty country roads. The cemetery itself was a small patch of hill covered in mounds marked by headstones and white wooden crosses. Bright silk flowers adorned the graves, which gave the cemetery a festive and joyful touch. 

Sacajawea (or Sacagawea or Sakakawea) was a Lemhi Shoshone girl who traveled with Lewis and Clark from North Dakota to the Pacific Ocean, working as guide and interpreter. Due to poor records, complex translations, and the vaguery of oral history, there is disagreement over the time and place of her death and burial. 

photo credit: Smithsonian Postal Museum

It was initially thought that she died of typhus in 1812 at Fort Manuel Lisa Trading Post in South Dakota, but the only evidence to support this were some vague journal entries. Oral tradition of the Shoshone Tribe indicated that she left her Quebecois husband in 1810 and went west, eventually marrying a Comanche man. After her Comanche husband died, she returned to Wyoming where she died from old age among her tribe in 1870.

photo credit: Lewis & Clark Trail Experience

Different biographies have cited one or the other of these accounts, and each has its historical merits. An obelisk was erected at the believed site of her death in South Dakota, and a memorial was also established at this cemetery in Wyoming. To this day, historians can't agree on which account is true.

A bronze statue and plaque stood near the dirt parking area. The statue showed Sacajawea holding a sand dollar. Legend has it that she gave a sand dollar from the Pacific Ocean to Chief Washakie, leader of the Shoshone people. This was a cherished gift and several historical images show him wearing it. Personally, I think the disc in the photo looks like metal but hey - as Mark Twain said, never let the truth get in the way of a good story.

photo credit: Wyoming History Day

The directions to her grave were unclear, so I wandered around for a bit before I found it. There wasn’t a well defined path, but I followed a narrow track around a shack that had been worn into the grass by other visitors. Her headstone sat taller than others in the cemetery and was flanked by smaller stones for her children Baptiste and Bazil. This is another interesting tidbit, since it’s widely understood that Baptiste is buried in Eastern Oregon. 

My visit to the cemetery was a cool and unexpected sidequest. After seeing it, I very much like to think that she is buried among her people on a beautiful hillside in Wyoming.

LARAMIE

I rolled into Laramie in the late afternoon, checked into my Airbnb, and went downtown. Laramie was formed in 1868 as a stop on the Union Pacific Railroad, the nation’s first transcontinental line. For a time during the railroad’s construction it was the westernmost station, which brought many early settlers to the area. The railroad is still a central part of Laramie's identity.

Today, Laramie is Wyoming’s only college town, home to the University of Wyoming. With around 32,000 people, it’s also Wyoming’s third largest city. Downtown was cute but rather deserted. A quick web search confirmed that the university had just ended its spring semester a couple of weeks earlier, so most of the students had already gone home for the summer. 

I grabbed a delicious burger with Hatch green chilis at Born in a Barn and an ice cream at Big Dipper Ice Cream Shop.

My Airbnb was comfortable and had a sunny backyard with a lilac tree in full bloom. I had spent the last few weeks exclusively using hotels, so it was nice to be in a house again for a change. I had done so much in my first few days in the state I gave myself a pass to just chill and recharge. I cooked, did laundry, went to the gym, painted a mini, and got some writing done. 

Wyoming had caught me by surprise - its natural beauty was as spectacular as it was diverse. Next up was my return to Nebraska. I had spent one night in Lincoln ten months prior after leaving IOWA. It was originally intended to be State #21. But instead, I got the news of Jeff’s heart attack, turned around, and drove all the way back to Boston. 

Jeff was on my mind as I loaded all my stuff back into Pierogi and drove east toward the Cornhusker State. 

Yes, and...

Matt