The Ephermeral Season

Fall is gone. One day and it has turned to snow.The air outside is raw and a blizzard is slamming at my windshield. We have just passed the Continental Divide at 8391 feet. In another few minutes the signpost will most likely be obliterated in white. If we were at all saddened by missing winter this year, we arn't now.

Despite the weather, we did see some interesting sights this morning. On our drive north from the Tetons we got a close up view of a grazing buffalo, a herd of elk and a female moose, as well as a sunrise that cast the mountains in soft pink.

Later we put on our gortex jackets, our gloves and our hats and stood shivering at the edge of the visitor center watching the heat of the earth swell up in a giant burst from Old Faithful. While water pulsed 180 feet into the air, I quickly pulled my camera from my jacket and shot. But I am quite sure that the photos will be something less than spectacular. A white gust of steam and water backdropped by a white foggy sky.

As Old Faithful receeded, we made a quick dash back inside and warmed ourselves at the Old Faithful Lodge. The lodge is beautiful. Constructed entirely of wooden logs and stone, it overlooks a field of geysers. The foyer is grand and is built around a massive fireplace. Half circling the fireplace are oversized brown leather chairs. I wouldn't mind a living room like that.

By time we got back in the van, the snow had turned to rain and paw prints of water were scrammbling on the windshield. We were on our way to Mammoth Hot Springs. The weather forecast called for clearing on Thursday, so we would bide our time at that slightly lower elevation until then. Unfortunately the most direct route from Old Faithful to Mamouth Springs had been closed, so we were forced to circumvent the area and travel 90 miles in a loop around the park.

Depite our desire to get to get a site at the campground (one of the few still open this time of year), we couldn't help but stop at some of the beckoning sights and roadside wildlife along the way. We stopped to view a volcano mud pot, a group of grazing elk just feet from the road, a lone bison eating supper and a patch of these once rare giants, in a golden field, paying no attention to the fact that they were being burried in snow flakes.

But the snow flakes were burring us also, and traffic was slow. It was time to move on and try to ignore the urge to stop for the coyote, the natural bride, Artist's point and Norris Geyser. In the next two weeks there would be plenty of time for those. It seemed better at that point to concentrate on out driving the winter storm.