Undine Falls and Lava Creek trail

Last Monday (the 20th) I went by myself down to Lava Creek. It's a short hike that runs parallel to the road leading to Mammoth. It's about 5 miles and all downhill (until you have to climb back up to Mammoth from the Yellowstone River). I went by myself since Nadia had to work that day (3-day weekends are a blessing in disguise!) and it was absolutely beautiful out. I was going to try to make it a quick trail and do it in under an hour, but those thoughts were thrown away as soon as I reached Undine Falls.

Undine Falls is a 60-foot waterfall directly off the road between Mammoth and Tower. It's not the largest or most impressive waterfall in Yellowstone, so it gets relatively little attention. In fact, every time I pass by there, I see cars whizzing right by, oblivious to the beautiful waterfall merely feet off of the road. There's even a labeled pullout that I rarely see cars stopped at. Consider this: Yellowstone is so incredibly beautiful that to most visitors, a 60-foot waterfall isn't worth pulling the car off the road to see.

However, this is one of my favorite parts of the area directly surrounding Mammoth. Its roar rumbles the ground as you stand atop the viewing platform watching all sorts of wildlife - mule deer, bison, and a plethora of songbirds across the river in the meadow. It really reminds me of the Appalacian waterfalls in the East, that seem to come from nowhere and create their own route down the mountain. Above the waterfall, Lava creek is crossable by a mere hop, and it is rarely over shin-deep. Below, the river widends to 20-30 feet across, often exceeding hip-deep. It's even created it's own miniature unnamed canyon that winds next to the trail for quite some time.

The trail was hardened by the time I set foot on it. The animal tracks, previously stuck into the mud, had formed into an uncomfortable concrete that felt sort of like walking on a pile of jagged rocks. But really, what am I complaining about? At least I didn't have to wade through hip-deep snow anymore, right?! Besides, the weather was a glorious 70 degrees with blue skies (that's all gone by now, replaced with snowy mornings and muddy afternoons).

Towards the end of the trail I spotted a bald eagle I had been told about by a number of people who had previously hiked the trail. He coasted overhead, apparently fishing in the river. I watched him circle overhead for about an hour before he coasted off towards Bunsen Peak.

I know I promised to include more about Mammoth Hot Springs bushwacking and bears, but that'll have to wait for another entry. It seems I've spent too much time prattling on about Undine Falls, and I'm not going for a novel here - just a blog entry. So, as a teaser, here's a picture. I was way too close to this bear - but it was far too preoccupied with munching on grass to pay much notice to me.

Hiking

Since the weather's been so nice recently, I've been doing more hiking than writing - and that's the way I prefer it. We started off with the Joe Brown trailhead North of the park. It was about 55 or 60 degrees on the trailhead but by the time we topped the first hill (about 400 feet of elevation gain in a 1/2 mile) we both were stripped of our fleece and long-sleeved shirts and in our t-shirts in sunny, 75 degree weather. The trail meanders up one of the drainages and offers access to the 1-million acre Absaroka-Beartooth Wilderness. The views of Paradise Valley and Yankee Jim Canyon were absolutely breathtaking, with Electric Peak dominating the view across the valley. Though we saw plenty of footprints and droppings from bears, elk, and wolves (okay...maybe they were coyotes or dogs out with their owners, but one can imagine) the only wildlife we spotted was a group of roughly 30 mule deer. When we got up to the creek (3 miles up the hill) we took a bit of a break before rocketing back down to the car, both of us complaining of our grumbly stomachs.

The Joe Brown trailhead left one reminder which I found about three days later: a tick. I pulled it out of my hair while in the employee dining room at lunch. I was wearing my fleece that day for the first time since we went hiking, so there's not much question as to where it came from. Thankfully I got it before it bit me, so I promptly took it outside and set fire to it. This was my first tick ever - I suppose it had to happen sooner or later, right?

The next trail Nadia and I decided to tackle was the Black Canyon, formed by the Yellowstone River. The trail runs West-East just north of the Grand Loop Road in the park between Mammoth and Tower. We entered the trail through Blacktail Deer Creek, which is between 5 and 10 miles East of Mammoth. Our plan was to camp overnight on the trail, which we figured would be clear of snow since the temperatures had been in the 60s all week.

Now, that was the hypothetical plan. Here's what really happened:

We took off on Blacktail Deer Creek at about 10:30 AM, dodging piles of snow and keeping relatively dry feet for the first mile of the trail. Once we got to the top of the first hill (after about a half-mile wide meadow) we saw what we were in for: it was going to be a snowy day. The trail was soon entirely buried in snow, but undeterred by the drifts, we continued on. After all, it was a beautiful day, and two hawks seemed to be keeping tabs on us as they swooped above our heads riding the wind. We assumed we would just cross the creek at some point, and besides, the ranger said we wouldn't have to ford the Yellowstone because a suspension bridge awaited us at the junction. Furthermore, we both figured the snow would be melted on the northern side of the canyon, since it gets direct sunlight for nearly the entire day.

We kept hauling through the snow - one slow step after another. First it was ankle deep, with it occasionally reaching up to my calf. Then it was calf deep, rising in parts to my thigh. Before long we were up to our hips in snow, laboriously trying different routes around the snow drifts. For those of you that haven't experienced it - snow above your waist is completely impassable without snowshoes or skis or crawling on all fours in the snow. And with my overnight pack on my back, I certainly wasn't crawling. To make it worse, the beautiful weather during the week had caused the top half-inch of snow to turn into a crusty-ice layer that probably would have supported both of us had we been without our overnight packs. After about four hours of postholing, we decided to take a break and ring out our socks, gather our composure, and have a bit of a snack. The wind was whipping around at a constant 25 mph, and eating away at our faces, and the sun had punished us already for not bringing sunscreen.

It was decision time: continue on, or turn back and face another 2-3 hours of postholing (assuming that not having to break trail would speed up our return). When I posed this question to Nadia, her response was simply "Fuck that. We came this far, I'm not about to turn back now."

So on it was, around the bend which we assumed to be the Yellowstone River Trail. Unbeknownst to us, the trail actually cut back further than we went, not that we had an option. Before us was a meadow turned lake, with maybe a quarter mile left of bushwacking/postholing down to the river. I turned back to Nadia and told her "I'm going for it. If I can cross the river, we can get to the other side where there isn't snow (because that side of the valley had been exposed to the sun, while the side we were on was in the shadows all day). If you can't hear me when I get down there, one waving arm means we can cross, two means no." Onward I went, trudging down the hill, tripping over branches and fallen logs buried beneath the snow, and eventually through ankle-deep snow melt. But the good news was that the river was crossable with a bit of a hop and a skip, and dry land was ahead. I waved Nadia down from the hill, and onward we pressed, hoping to find a place to camp somewhere along the trail.

By this point we had lost hope of finding our reserved campsite, and were willing to settle for anything rock-free, snow-free, and with a place to hang our food. This was bear country, and grizzlies and black bears alike were coming out of hibernation with empty stomachs and an apetite that could kill. The only site we could find that suited our needs would have meant hanging our food directly above our tent pad, which was itself situated on a game trail. Probably not the best of ideas, since we had seen plenty of bear droppings on the trail. So onward we pushed, and before long, Gardiner was within sight, about three miles away - all of it downhill. I made a package of dehydrated chili, and we decided to keep moving to Gardiner. There was booze and a warm bed waiting for us at home - may as well take advantage of it, right?

So onward we pressed, down fields of snow and mud (because where there wasn't snow, there was certainly mud). Before long we met up with the Rescue Creek Trail, which has a bridge across the Yellowstone River, and leads right up to the road out of the park. We walked our way into Gardiner, and arrived at the Blue Goose (one of two bars in town, and the definite employee hangout) right at 9:30 PM - 11 hours after we set out. We covered approximately 15 miles that day including all of our sidetracks up and down hills, around cliffs, and across rivers. This was truly a tiring day, both physically and mentally - thankfully one of our coworkers came and picked us up from the Goose and drove us back to Mammoth. Nadia and I were both wind-chapped, and I had cuts on my shins from breaking through the ice. Would I do it again? Absolutely not! Do I regret it? Absolutely not!!! We saw two Sandhill Cranes, and heard a wolf howling, not to mention the birds of prey and countless elk.






That's enough for one post, but things to expect in the next post:

-Lava Creek
-5 bears
-Mammoth Hot Springs bushwacking
-A Bald Eagle

To Yellowstone!

After 5 days of traveling, Nadia and I arrived in Yellowstone on April 7th. The mountains surrounding us at Mammoth Hot Springs are capped with snow, though there is very little snow on the ground here at 6,239 feet (relatively low in comparison to the rest of the park). Of course, the main though coursing through my head when we arrived was hiking (duh, that's what the blog's about...) so out we went!

Our first hike was literally right out our back door, on the trail to Beaver Ponds. Neither of us have spent much time up here at Mammoth in the past, so neither of us had hiked this trail before. It's a relatively easy, 5-mile loop that extends behind the Mammoth Terraces. Within the first mile, we saw a harem of elk grazing in the meadows, with more than 60 elk. This isn't an uncommon sight at Mammoth, where the elk often graze in the lawns between buildings.

Mammoth was originally built as a military training ground. The buildings stand staunchly on the ground, reminiscent of squatting bunkers, and spread out similarly to a town. The grass here is one of the few larger impacts people have had on the ecosystem here at Yellowstone. When the military resided in Mammoth, they needed comfortable grass to practice their formations. So the government planted Kentucky Bluegrass all over Mammoth, which grows tenaciously over the entire location. It turns out that elk are far less attracted to the sprigs of weeds and elkthistle than they are to the lush Bluegrass that flourishes here in the mild weather at Mammoth. This has caused a pseudo-habituation of the elk, since they are willing to put up with the tourists to eat their version of a 5-star meal.

You see, Nadi and I have a running joke that during the season Mammoth is the Disneyland of Yellowstone. This is where the vast majority of tourists (referred to hereafter as 'tourons' - I hope you can figure that one out on your own) enter the park, gawking at the herds of bison, and taking pictures of their children standing next to elk. Curiously enough, these are the same overprotective parents that won't let their children climb a tree or take a trip through the backcountry, yet they're willing to snap some photos of the kids three feet away from a 2,000 pound bison. To be fair, it's not their fault. They came here to see Old Faithful, which erupts in such a perfect schedule that the tour companies can shuttle in the tourons by the masses with just enough time to let them cycle around the gift shop before shipping them back out before the next eruption.

However, us Yellowstoners (dare I say it aloud!), share a passion for the park in a way that no tourist will ever understand. We'd just as soon let them have Old Faithful - just as long as they leave the rest of the park to us - the backcountry fanatics. We love fording rivers, telling stories of backcountry encounters with bears, clinging to the side of a mountain, and starting campfires in the pouring rain. We rarely show up to Old Filthy, because to us, the boardwalks just won't cut it. This isn't just a vacation to us, it's a lifestyle. This is Henry David Thorough's America - unscathed by the American industrial machine. You won't see a single smokestack here in Yellowstone, nor a single oil pump ("Drill, baby, drill" will never be uttered here - thankfully that loon is back in Alaska, busy dealing with Putin and the rearing-head commies!) and we're planning on keeping it that way.