(07/06/12) Happy Birthday, George!

The birthday boy had a day to remember. We woke up in Cody, WY, had a hearty breakfast in town at Peter’s Café, hit the coffee shack that started it all, Rocky Mountain Mudd and then drove in to Yellowstone’s East Gate. With our park newspaper and map in hand, we proceeded to the parking area for Avalanche Peak.

After parking, we began preparing our packs. We had already iced and watered the CamelBak bladders, but lunch needed to be loaded, as well as raincoats because a light shower might be possible. Lunch was an orange, some Kind bars and Mashables fruit pouches. We sunscreened each other (SPF 50) and sprayed copiously with Off Deep Woods, assembled the hiking poles and off we went. We always leave a note for the rangers in the corner of our vehicle dashboard. We note our names, hometowns, descriptions of what we were wearing, what time we left, what our hiking plans were in terms of times and routes, our food & water supply info, our cell phone numbers and emergency contact info with names and locations. I truly hope that we never need the Rangers to use this info. Scary to think about, but completely necessary in our minds.

In the photostream pictures, you can see I started wearing a pullover because the air was cool. I think about an eighth of a mile up the trail, I shucked it. You probably also see the air horns at our waists and bear spray hanging up near our chests. I usually hike first, setting the pace so George doesn’t leave me in the dust. The man is quite the hiking machine! I carry my bear mace in my hand with the safety off the entire time I hike. George keeps his air horn in his hand and the elastic off his mace, with the canister unclipped. After talking to tons of people and reading magazines and websites, we have opted for a combo of protection. First, we never hike alone. Secondly, we are vigilant the entire time we hike and make a heck of a lot of noise as we march. Wearing bear bells is a must. My dad made us our own custom bells, two on each of our carabiners – one is an antique sleigh bell that he found while antiquing, the other is a cow bell that was used on my great-grandfather’s farm. These bells are obnoxious and other hikers have laughed at them as well as remarked “we think we’ll follow you guys”. For me, they are my talisman against bad things. If I have a little piece of my dad watching over me, maybe I will be safe. We also use air horns because we have been approached by deer and elk and that giant noise from our little selves, makes them think twice about coming closer.

So, up we went. I spent a lot of energy this spring going gluten-free to trim down my weight, running on my treadmill and walking Sutter pup. George encouraged me every step of the way, often matching me step for step. My hope was that body would be better prepared for this hike. When we climbed Mt. Washburn last summer, my body HURT. Every muscle cramped, I could not breathe, my nose dripped the whole time; pure torture. I was hoping to stave off some of that pain. The best laid plans… Well, no dice. This was by far one the most physically challenging activities of my life. We would both hike, basically up, up and more up, until we could not take one more step, at which point, we would lean over, heaving to get more oxygen.  The trail ran in 3 sections, none of which were kind. Section one was tight woods, dense growth with a narrow, steeply rising trail. Section two was a rolling rising trail in a wooded area. 

Section 3 was above the growth line for trees, but the ground had small plant cover and flowers. I was able to indulge my wildflower photography habit. Yellowstone is so special in that I get to see flowers that do not grow in other places, specifically the species at higher altitudes. George teases me that I want to photograph every flower in the park (not every type, every blossom!).  I enjoyed the highest third of the hike, although it was the worst hiking. George was my champ the entire time, cheering me on, giving me support and watching to make sure I was safe at the higher altitude. As per the usual, my nose started to bleed. So, I wadded up some TP, shoved it up there and kept going. The last 300 feet up were the worst because the trail misled you visually and you kept thinking you were “there”.

The top was amazing. Beautiful, panoramic views of East Yellowstone National Park, we took a ton of pictures. And yes, I could the beloved Tetons in the distance! We sat down to rest and eat some food. I managed to get a Kind bar down, but the Gatorade was not happening. I was so nauseous that I could not drink it. George reclined against the rocks and was resting when he hissed “oh my god, look at my arm”. A Golden-Mantled Ground Squirrel (like a giant chipmunk) was licking his arm! He described it as fast as a guinea pig drinks from a water bottle, but softer than a cat’s tongue. George was afraid to move because it has its little black claws in his arm meat! Eventually, the “goldenmunk” tired of licking the sweat/salt, decided to explore George’s pack. He rooted a empty Kind Bar wrapper from a side pouch and began to lick the leftover smears. This is when another goldenmunk showed up and they began to fight over the wrapper, snarling and leaping and squeeking at each other. Of course, I had the camera out and filmed the fight. It was like watching a Bruce Lee movie. At one point, they even looked as if they had fallen off the edge! It was just hilarious.

Back down, we made slow progress through section three because of the sliding, loose rock. Down through section two and one, were not too bad, but I was worried about bears. George talked calmly to me the entire time telling me how much he was enjoying our trip, trying to help keep me relaxed. It did not work. Another hiker caught up to us, and I heard his boots crunch behind us, whirled around and almost maced him. Sigh. We hiked the last 500 yards with this fella, who had hiked the whole thing alone. Back at the car, we could not believe that we had accomplished that hike. We were exhausted, drained, sore and elated.

We drove to Fishing Bridge RV Campground, dropped off the Nugget-Joey-Backpack and headed up to Canyon Lodge for dinner at their restaurant. Of course, we had two traffic jams to contend with. The first one was for a grizzly forging, the second for bison crossing. We could have pulled off and gotten some great photos, as we’ve never gotten that close to a griz before (thankfully, we think), but there were a ton of people, many of whom were way too close and so we decided that if we were going to see a bear, we needed to do it on our terms, safely. So we drove past and admired, but kept going. Of course, we were rewarded for our good choice by getting to see the park’s prize bull elk (the biggest fella) cross Lamar Valley at twilight AND some wolves resting at the edge of the treeline (with a telescope) in the same valley. I got two great shots of the elk and we drove to dinner pondering how we get so lucky sometimes.

Dinner was hysterical. Our waiter’s name was Dan. He started out his introduction to the restaurant and the menu with “I am just going to do the best I can for you guys.” Oh Lord. Where do these people come from? Sometimes, I feel like George and I live our lives on something like The Truman Show, where we are secretly being taped to see how we will deal with whatever gets thrown our way! Dan brought us biscuits. Twenty minutes later we got drinks. This poor kid does not need to be a waiter, he needs to be making beds at the lodge or watering the grass, something that he can handle. He was sweet, but slow and while he tried hard, he was pretty forgetful. George was a very good sport about it and kept cracking jokes to me. Dinners were divine (or perhaps it was our brush with high altitude). George had a bacon bison burger and I had roast turkey. For his dessert, he had a Yellowstone Sundae – 2 scones with Huckleberry ice cream and warm huckleberry sauce. Dan, the manager and 10 other servers all gathered ‘round to serenade him at the end of a great day so he could blow out his candle and make his wish.

The drive back to our site was in darkness. About halfway back, we encountered a small herd of bison, moving North, using the roadway. There was one very large male, a few smaller males, some females and 2 calves. With nothing to scale them with because it was dark, they seemed bigger than ever as they sauntered past, 3 feet from the sides of our vehicle. That’s right, they were on both sides, close enough that we could see their eyeballs and breath in the cool air. I did not take any pictures since I did not want to frighten them with a flash, so this just goes down in the memory books as another amazing moment only possible in Yellowstone.