July 25 - A Quick Exit


As beautiful and amazing as it is, I was quite relieved to be leaving the Park. Cycling here is something of a trial, and it requires so much of one's attention, that it is impossible to really enjoy one's time on the road.

I made an attempt at an early start, but was foiled at the outset by a flattened tire. I had tanked up at the Mammoth dining room all-you-can-eat breakfast, but it was 8:30 before I was on the road, and when 10:00 rolled around and I had already climbed 2200', I quickly abandoned my plan to try to make Cody for the night. I only had to ask myself "What's the rush?", and I quickly responded by pulling off the road at the next opportunity. It proved to be an eyeopening encounter.

The venue was a cluster of cabins which are used by the Yellowstone Institute to offer field classes in botany, ecology, geology and other outdoor workshops. The Park Service also uses it as a minimalist ranger station for the northeast quadrant of the park. In their parking lot, there was a 4x4 "squad car" with the front 4 feet pushed in to the passenger compartment. Apparently the ranger driving this unit last night hit a bison at 40 mph and although the truck is totalled, the bison wandered off and is probably wondering why his ribs are a little sore. Right next to this pile of crumpled steel, was an even shinier land yacht that had met its match in the form of an elk, and was awaiting a tow truck to take it for a front end transplant. The ranger said there had just been a third incident, this one with a bison, not a mile down the road. My bike is beginning to feel pretty safe.

I stayed and chatted with the head of the institute,and his 13 year old son, who had just returned from a visit to Seattle. He said they drove the whole way in one long day... and it has taken me 16 days to get here... Actually I meet an amazing number of people from Seattle out here. I guess it really isn't that far in highway miles. The son was most interested in getting home so he could check out my web site. I have always thought that the world wide web offered people in very remote spots on the earth the chance to stay connected with the rest of the planet, while not requiring them to leave their homes. Nice to see it in action.

In 1896 Babcock and Turner wrote extensively about their visit to the national park:

From Upper Basin a morning run took us over the continental divide, through much beautiful scenery. The roads in the park all follow the lake shore or some stream. Animal and plant life are here in profusion. We saw but few of the large animals, but the birds and smaller animals show themselves at every turn in the road. Mr. Turner almost ran over two porcupines, and we have often wondered if it was a put up job on the part of the little fellows to try the effect of their quills on our quick repair tires. The animals here have nothing to fear except from each other; I make one exception. The park authorities have requested the soldiers to shoot the wolves whenever possible, as they are very destructive to the young deer, elk, and buffalo. Fish abound in all lakes and streams of the park, and people are allowed to take as many as they can with hook and line. In a little stream near the Thumb, we saw hundreds of trout. They were going up from the lake in schools, much like the salmon in spawning time. Two fishermen we met had about fifty pounds each, though I doubt if they found the fish very sporty.

Flowers and Snow.
Coming over the divide we could see Shoshone Lake off to the south, while by the roadside great patches of snow were lying in the shade, and in the sunnier places, flowers were in blossom. I noticed one species of adder's tongue with three blossoms to the stalk. On the Sound I have seen them with two flowers, but never with three. Just on the divide is a little pond, and from one side the waters flow into the Pacific and from the other side a stream drains off a small amount of water which eventually makes its way through the Mississippi to the Gulf and the Atlantic. On the divide is a signboard on one side of which is "Atlantic Slope" and on the other "Pacific Slope." There are neat signboards and mileposts throughout the park, and the visitors cannot lose their way.

From the lake house we followed down the Yellowstone to the upper falls, where we made quite a stay, unconscious of the fact that much grander scenery lay within a mile of us. Passing down to the lower falls along a trail we came upon the view of all views in the Yellowstone region. The Grand canyon is a most sublime spectacle. The pen cannot do it justice, and the painter's brush is also inadequate. If you have stood at Lookout point or Inspiration point and looked at that wonderful work of nature you appreciate the impossibility of describing it. If you have not seen it, I prefer that no feeble effort of mine shall belittle it in your imagination. Niagara, though greater, more immense, is far less grand. It is not the gem, but the setting, that makes Yellowstone falls the pride of the American.

Speaking of falls, the park is replete with them, and they are all different and all very beautiful. Globetrotters claim that the falls, the lakes, the cliffs and peaks, the springs and geysers, make the world's grandest aggregation of wonders. It is certainly one of the most beautiful parts of God's mundane handiwork.

...

We remained at the canyon until after sunset, and then, realizing that we must leave if we would reach Norris Basin that night, we led our wheels up a mile of steep grade and hurried down the ten-mile slope through the sand; before we had gone half the way, the road became indistinct in the dim light and we scored several tumbles, with no serious injury to ourselves or our machines. That night in the darkness, my cyclometer passed the 1000 mile mark, and when we reached Norris Basin and crawled under the warm blankets provided by Sergeant Larson, the meter showed a new start of six miles.

From Norris Basin our road was the same that we followed in, except that it was down grade. We stopped at Rustle falls, near the Golden Gate, for in the rain and snow that had greeted our entrance a few days before, we had not half appreciated the beauty of the spot.

Our stay in the park was comparatively short. Some people who have lived near the place for years say it is the quickest run ever made, but I believe we saw more than the tourist who is a patron of the transportation company. We were a shorter time on the road between points of interest and had fully as much time at the various basins. However neither the wheel nor the stagecoach is the proper way to do the park. If ladies are with the party, a wagon or camping outfit with a month of spare time is the best way. If a party of men wish to see the points of interest and take in all the side trips, horse and pack animals are the best for transportation. The ordinary tourist sees relatively little of what may be seen. The guides at the hotels are mainly college boys who have recently come to the park for the summer, and their ignorance in regard to the history of the place and the habits of the geysers is as unsatisfactory as it is laughable. Probably before the season is over they will have picked up enough information from the visitors that they can entertain their college mates next winter, but as guides they are cheap failures.

I said that wheeling in the park is not good; the roads in many places are heavy with sand, and the grades are not easy. We met but two or three wheels in all, one tandem being of that number. Some who have not visited the park or studied a map, have little idea of its awe. Our cyclometers show that this little side trip caused us 250 miles of hard wheeling.


Interesting to note that the two of them were put off with cycling in Yellowstone, albeit for different reasons.
We came down from Cinnebar to Livingston separately, and Mr. Turner, by stopping at a cabin for a drink of water unconsciously met one of the most noted and eccentric characters of the Yellowstone valley, James George, or as he is better known, "Yankee Jim." He lives in a little cabin where the railroad runs through a narrow place in the canyon. Yankee Jim has possessed and lost two fortunes, and thinks he has another in the mountains near his cabin. He claims to have lived some time in Seattle some years ago. After asking Mr. Turner some questions in regard to his destination and purpose, he said, "About two or three years ago a young man came through here on a wheel. He was making a trip around the world, and stayed here all night with me. He seemed to like the place, and said he was coming back here sometime and stay two weeks with me. His name was Lenz and the poor fellow never got around. But you've probable heard all about him, and how the poor fellow was killed in Armenia." So here was one of the stopping places and one of the quickly won friends of the ill- fated Lenz. I was sorry that I missed seeing Yankee Jim.

Today in Livingston we burn a little powder, and listen to the scream of the American eagle; tomorrow we resume our journey.


So they are leaving Livingston on July 5th, that is 27 days since departing Seattle. I have left the Park on the 16th day, but I won't touch their trail for several more days. I'm going to the Western Museum at Cody, and to a mail pickup at Graybull, before heading up to join them along the Yellowstone River.

I am staying in Cooke City, MT in a comfortable cabin with no telephone. Let's see if I can beg a modem connection.

I have a date tonight with a young lady from Federal Way, who wants to see my web site.

51 miles felt like enough today.

Big downhill run tomorrow,

Dennis

P.S. I encountered a ten second rain shower today, after I had procured my room for the night. Enough of a warning to get me to pack my raincoat at the top of my duffel bag.



Prev ---------------- Next
Return to Journal Entries
Return to Home Page

Copyright (c) 1996 by Dennis Bell. All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.