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USA: Mt. Washburn, a Geyser, and Ice Cream

September 27, 2011
Adventure, MidWest, National Parks
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I was pretty underwhelmed with my Yellowstone experience at the beginning. Driving in from the south, we went by the magnificent Tetons and then, as soon as we passed through the Yellowstone gates, were thrown into a Disneyland-like, pine tree-lined traffic extravaganza. All the way to Old Faithful, all I could see were pine trees and (you guessed it) RV’s. Starving and not willing to deal with the lines in the touristy new service center by Old Faithful, the hubby and I sat on a bench overlooking the main parking lot and ate our beef sticks, apples, and cheddar cheese, all while be heckled by a huge black crow. (Did you know that crows can cluck, and whistle, and gurgle, all in addition to making their normal crow-like sounds?)

Leaving our new friend crow behind, we ventured over to wander around Old Faithful and the other geysers in that part of the park. It was 1:30 and we had an ETA for Old Faithful of 2:24pm (+ or – 10 minutes), so we walked over to the Old Faithful Inn (beautiful log lodge built in 1904), purchased one of the airiest ice creams ever (vanilla only, because this late in the season everyone is just waiting for the food to run out so they can go home), and took a seat with a few hundred of our closest friends. 2:24pm came and, like someone turned on a switch, water started spewing 20 feet into the air. I’ll admit it was more of an awe-inspiring experience than I anticipated.

Luckily Old Faithful was the beginning of the good stuff. Bison filled  meadows, Artist’s Way on the canyon, and a little jaunt to the top of Mt. Washburn were all around the corner. Mt. Washburn was my favorite. After a two hour hike mostly above the tree line, we arrived at a fire lookout on top of the mountain. We could see all of the park, the Tetons, and the fires burning off to the east of the lake. Looking out over such a large and varied landscape was the first time that it really hit me why this piece of land had been the first national park.

In 24 hours I went from underwhelmed to enchanted. I think I’ll be back.

USA: Sleeping in the Badlands, SD

September 25, 2011
Adventure, MidWest, National Parks
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I have never camped in the United States, unless you count the time we slept in my girl scout leader’s back yard and I woke up with a kitten gnawing on my toes. I’ve done the Sahara, the desert in Rajastan, and the Himalayas if a sleeping bag on a wooden bench in a lodge with no electricity or running water is considered camping. Honestly, I never wanted to camp in the US. Being abroad and camping seemed exotic and adventurous. Here it just seemed, cold. All that changed the day I met my husband, the man who used to sleep in a tent in Antarctica because he thought it was cozy. (sigh)

In an attempt to expand my boundaries, I agreed that we should be primarily camping on the US leg of our trip. And where did we decide to begin this camping adventure but in the Badlands National Park in South Dakota — so inviting sounding, how could I resist!

Camping in the Badlands wasn’t quite what I expected. I had an image of sleeping in the middle of the desert, surrounded only by stars and rocks — isn’t that what they did in all those Western movies?Instead we rolled up right before sunset to a campground that looked more like an RV parking lot than secluded wonderland. (I think by the end of this trip, one image will symbolize Americana to me more than any other, the Recreational Vehicle.)

We drove around all three loops of the campground and finally settled on a place on top of a hill surrounded by creamy-white pinnacles. It was only a little before 7pm but the sun was setting and everything was painted a light orange. We pitched away and by the time the sun set and the sky was full of stars, I was enchanted.

By 8pm it was pitch black, save the millions of stars, and I was in the tent drifting off to sleep with the sound of coyotes howling in the background. I don’t know if those of you that have fallen asleep to the sound of coyotes would agree, but I found the sound strangely soothing. Perhaps that is due to my overly inflated faith that our little tent can protect us from anything, and the fact that the coyotes sounded like they were a mile away.

Next camping stop – the Black Hills. Not quite sure if I’ll have that same soothing feeling about mountain lion growls, even a mile away.