The dappled light through the trees

The gnats that gather in the sunbeams

It's another Sunday evening and the wind has been blowing big gusting Yellowstone breaths. Earlier I hiked 21 miles through the heart of grizzly country, in the heart of the summer, biting straight through to the middle of it. Here are my unedited field notes:

• started at 7:30, mist rising off the water by the trailhead

• mouse hopping through the grass

• bison came through and sat in the dirt, had to go around

• lost trail multiple times

• encountered frog while crossing meadow

• forged one stream, realized it was thermal. warm wet feet, steam rising off boots

• BLACK WOLF 300 yds away

• bison skull marking the trail

• no clouds. silly group

• 10 more miles!

• dappled light, defined and shaded path that cut through meadows and 1 creek w/ tadpoles and dragonflies

• at the 10 mile mark, hit MARY LAKE. cabin in the woods with a picnic table and an elk skull

• sun making the water sparkle. blue and green, had to jump in. took off clothes. scared of leeches

• many crossings of streams across logs. marshy. heinous horsefly activity

• wonderful-smelling stroll through sagebrush fields

• currently relaxing in the shade of one of those trees with the yellow sap

• last five miles. changed socks. immediately got new socks wet in ankle deep water crossing.

• stopped to look at giant orange dragonfly

• last five miles neverending. pebbles in my tevas

• one more mile. I can do anything for 1 mile. cool breeze helped

• sun started behind us in the morning at the east trailhead. now its in front of us. it beat us to the end

• held hands across the finish line

In the same week, I hiked Avalanche Peak. A calf-killer. 2070 feet of elevation gain in 2 miles. I started out in the fast group and then quickly demoted myself to the middle, wheezy gal as I am. Not really sure what was going on around me for the first mile because my gaze was on the ground, just focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. Eventually the trail opened up to a dead forest (not burned, no char - beetles maybe?) where the trail dropped down to a more modest grade. So, we could spare some breath for conversation.

Bryce and I talked about keeping a diary. If we really do it for ourselves, or with the hope that someone someday will pick it up and think its important. Bryce said he keeps one for his grandkids to read someday. I can’t really be sure who I do it for. The trail turned into a line of gravel next to a steep drop-off. A helicopter flew by & we realized we were eye level with it. I almost fell off the trail at least once - the loose rocks gave out under me when I stepped too close to the edge. I watched them tumble down the almost vertical slope. Bryce just said that if he had to call me a med-evac, I owe him a six-pack.

The last few hundred feet of elevation gain took us through a scree field. We reached the top right at sunset. I felt light-headed as the wind slapped me around. We all tucked ourselves into a little alcove to sit and snack, peeking out every so often to turn in circles, catching the Absarokas, Yellowstone Lake, the sunset, the valleys all in between two blinks. An eyeful. The wind still pummeled. I pulled on my coat and was silent as we started down.

And now, I need to tell you everything I can remember about that one paddle trip. Maddi and Dylan work for the kayak tour company out of Grant Village and provided us with everything we needed. We launched into Lewis Lake and were quickly working against the wind. Once we reached the channel, it was easy to paddle against the gentle current. But it couldn’t be thoroughly enjoyed because of the clouds and soft thunder closing in on the left.

“Are we scared?” I remember thinking as we tried to outpace it. I couldn’t tell. Eventually we put it far enough behind us, but the boats kept running aground so we took turns getting out and dragging them. At one point the boat carriers ended up ahead of us while Maddi Liza and I fell behind. It is NOT everyday that you stumble upon wild huckleberry bushes. I forgot my apprehensions and started plucking, piling them into my palm greedily. I was only vaguely aware of my bear spray moving farther and farther away on the kayaks, drifting out of sight.

After I was satisfied with my harvest, I selected which one would be the first wild huckleberry I ever tasted. As soon as my teeth were just barely bursting the skin, Maddi abruptly turned around and started doubling back towards me, wearing a strange wide-eyed expression. “Go. go. go.”

No time to savor. I swallowed the berry and nervously popped the rest into my mouth as I lept over logs and crashed through bushes, back to the (mostly psychological) safety of the kayaks. Maddi had almost stumbled directly into a bear den. The fact that the bear wasn’t home almost made it worse. Because where’s…. the bear..

Looking back, we felt a little silly because if you were a bear, you would pick a huge huckleberry thicket to live in.

After another tense moment when Liza and I couldn’t agree on how to turn the kayak and ended up facing backwards, the channel opened up into Shoshone lake, the largest Backcountry lake in the lower 48 (so I’m told). We found our campsite just along the shore, and it was only then that we realized campfires were prohibited. That meant setting up our tents in the dark, cold bunless brats, and shivering to sleep. Sweet Maddi kept repeating, “doesn’t this just feel like an adventure?”

Imagine a morning so ungodly cold. Luckily, we had made the choice the night before to save the small amount of butane among our supplies for the morning. Warm egg tacos and hot tea boiled from the lake water brought me back to life. We got everything packed up and down from the bear pole and set off again.

On the other end of the Lake we found our ultimate objective: a backcountry geyser basin only accessible via an 8 mile hike or our kayak route. This was so different from the always-crowded boardwalks. We sat and watched the Minute-Man geyser go off over and over and over again.

On the way back, we got lazy and held a tarp between two kayaks to act as a sail. Got even lazier and stopped for a beach nap. There was no sound but the water lapping on the pebbles, and no other people for miles around us. I had eaten one of Liza’s marshmallows so there was also a sweet taste in my mouth. Woke up sun-tired but ready to finish out what would end up being a 26 mile kayak trip.

During our home stretch straight back across Lewis Lake, the wind picked up and waves started battering the sides of the boat. We took on a little water. I got scared. Maddi maybe could sense this and started talking about what kind of pizza we should order when we got back. My teeth were clenched and I was paddling for dear life. “HAWAIIAN.” was all I could force out.

Much else has happened that was shorter to describe but just as sweet.

• Driving to Emigrant with Raini and Claire to see Dylan Gossett play live at the Old Saloon. Pretended to be Montanans and pointed at the sky when he sang "you remind me that there's something up above"

• The Parkwide Talent Show. Acts included "The Singing Inspectors", who donned their housekeeping uniforms complete with radios for an operatic rendition of La Vie en Rose, an impressionist, a drag performance to Abracadabra by Lady Gaga, and (the winners) "Pumper Dani and the Mechanics", a bluegrass group formed by employees of the Park's service stations.

• Pulling over in Idaho at the beckon of a handmade sign promising a "mountain man rendezvous.” Men and women in course tunics (and one man in just a loincloth) peddled us fur hats, beadwork, tin cups, and pocketknives from a circle of tents. One man called Claire to his table and continued to berate her as she ignored him and walked away. Later, while I was looking at a collection of solid brass rings, he approached again and said to someone else through his braided beard: "Here's the tall sassy girl that didn't want to look at my stuff", and whipped her butt lightly with some horsehair. Time to leave!

• Arriving to the hotel lobby to find everybody else already celebrating. I was a little worried it would start getting rowdy but the more the night went on, the more they just kept talking about God and crying. The string quartet brought over a coconut cream pie.

  

  Wooden table covered in glasses, wiping the rings away with bare hands, wiping the tears, the frosting from the corners of our mouths. Full moon, heads leaning on shoulders. I had horrible nightmares that night. Maybe from the pie. So, I woke up late the next morning to meet Taylor for our Delta Lake hike.

• Squatted to pee behind a tree and was treated to a view of Taggart Lake to my left, a Teton to my right, and the national forest expanding out in front of me. What I was really excited for on Delta was the 1/2 mile scramble through boulder fields before reaching the blue blue hidden lake at the top. We crawled to get there, always keeping at least 3 points of contact with the Earth. Delta Lake has the coldest water I've ever swam in. I was afraid my muscles would seize up like Jack talks about in the Titanic. As soon as you're in, your only thoughts are getting out as quickly as possible. I laid on a rock (I was helpless to do anything else) & waited for my skin to stop vibrating so I could eat my BLT.

• Our campsite down winding Gros Ventre Road just outside GTNP in Bridger-Teton national forest.

  

  Changed into warm clothes while Liza got the fire going. Gonna be a chilly one. While we inched closer to the fire, stars joined each other one by one in the sky until eventually the milky way snuck in from behind the blanket. Hello old friend! Haven't seen you since 2023, when we had regular appointments every Grand Canyon new moon. Raini, Claire and I slept shoulder to shoulder, Raini in the middle so we could keep her sleeping bag-less self warm. The wind blew up over us, over the sides of the tent, wishing it could blow right through. It blew and blew until it scooped us up, carried us over the mountain and up up up in the sky.

Who was that girl who cried the whole way from Bozeman to Gardiner? She wiped her ruddy face and hasn’t stopped to breathe since.