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The first evening we’d gone up to Mammoth Springs, the hot springs that form travertine terraces and bleed ochre minerals which give the park its name. The Canary Spring was particularly spectacular; it steamed and overlooked the mountains and steps of ice-white calcium deposits. I’d never seen anything like this kind of volcanic phenomenon. We touched base outside of the park in Montana to buy essentials and on our way back, bathed in a river whose glacial water’s edge had been taken off by the hot springs emptying into it. A sunset swim is always a favourite of mine! To top it off, on the way home we had a relatively close encounter with a male grizzly, who’d been sighted by a couple others pulled over on the edge of the valley. It was wonderful to watch him through our binoculars (thank you, Dad!) as he foraged for roots (we think). The next day, we would see a mother and her cubs playing under a tree from a distance – thankfully!

In fact, the park alternates between burnt forests (damage from a natural fire in 1988 that’s still remarkable), grassy valleys, and desert-like plains with hearty shrubs. Even more drastic was a trail we tried to take on our third day in the park. Our second night, we’d moved to a site further back on the grounds (again, the hospitable rangers!) and Phi taught we to wrap layers of bedsheets inside my sleepingbag (and I was the girl guide!) Still, we couldn’t seem to leave the campsite early enough! We headed across to the southwest this time, putting more miles on, and found the path, which first passed some basins, then a new-growth forest reminiscent of a Christmas tree farm! Philippe’d spied some velvety antlers of a sleeping buck amongst the trees, and we stood on a log to see him, and he woke and looked at us, only metres away, so noble. It was such a zen moment. The path then took us to Fairy Falls, tall and slender, and after wading into its pool, we agreed to finish the loop, which was to be about eight miles in total. The ground it crossed was arid and the sun scorched us; the plants dwindling off and the evil flies grew aggressive. Finally, the path faded, and although we saw a marker ahead, the trail seemed to be flooded, forming a hot swamp with a thin volcanic crust covering it. It was hard to decide to turn back, but it’s what we did!

We’d decided to get to Grand Teton that night, so we stopped to see Old Faithful, a large geyser, which went off after only a short wait, and was pretty incredible! We paused at the Yellowstone Lodge – a great log structure with massive stone fireplace – and ate two of the largest scoops of ice cream I’d ever seen (each). We then forwent Morning Glory pool (which we’d affectionately started calling the Glory Hole) and drove out of the park, zigzagging across the continental divide (!), arriving only in time to see the sun set on the Teton range, and to see that the best campsite was full, of course. (We’re geniuses.) Finally, we edged into the last vacant site we found in the dark, and sure enough, halfway through inflating the mattress and pitching the tent, its rightful owners came by to claim it – then almost immediately offered to let us stay there nonetheless. It was a sweet relief! We still ate beans, despite the free ride. In the morning we decided to take a “short pleasant” hike to Hidden Falls, which ended up being long and the falls mediocre, but still whimsical through the forest – and a notably glorious swim in a quick-moving river just before it emptied into the lake on our way back. (Either I am especially immune to cold water, or Philippe is too hot-blooded! *coughwimpcoughcough*)

We both loved the mountains – some of America’s real beauties. They rise up suddenly and sport relatively smooth rock face, and only small bits of glacier snow. Philippe keeps testing grip of the stone and gazing longingly at climbers dangling above us – I’m sure he’d rather be with you at times, Paivo! (nowayinhellI’dgo) We left and drove through Jackson Hole and along the Snake River valley, to Idaho (no, YOU-da-hoe!), where we found another campsite, this time early enough to settle in a bit. And take long hot showers. It’s hot and dry, so the grime just sticks. This morning we took off (after a HUGE breakfast at Denny’s…. we split the Lumberjack platter and were both stuffed) across the state, making yet another intelligent detour north when neither of us caught the highway turnoff. (Debate: is it the driver’s job, or the navigator with the map in his hands’?) :P In any case, we took some extra time getting to Craters of the Moon, but I found it interesting. I’d never seen the black, airy lava formations – the frothy molten stuff had made weird shapes, but the air quality hindered much of a view. We continued on, and are now, I’m proud to say, on the highway in Oregon, on our way to the Columbia River, our goal for tonight! So we’ve crossed three time zones, winning hours all along – we’re on Pacific Time now! Thinking we’ll be on the coast in no time is amazing – although everything in between has been so great so far. Still high on life. xo