Rangels in Honduras

Please see the new blog site at: rangelsinhonduras.blogspot.com

Where are we now?

We took off from Yellowstone nearly a week ago - it's hard to believe a week has passed already. Somehow, we managed to pack all of our stuff back into our truck and trailer - we definitely brought way too much stuff with us. We made it through our final reviews, room inspection, turned in our IDs and name badges and headed east for South Dakota, starting our round-about trip back to Oregon heading in the wrong direction! Our time in South Dakota was spent visiting some Sun Dance friends and showing Del some parts of the US he'd never seen before - the Badlands, Wall Drug (which closed shortly after we arrived), Mount Rushmore (not my favorite national monument, but that's another story), Crazy Horse, Black Hills, Deadwood (bars, gambling and jewelry stores), Rapid City. It's a little odd travelling through these tourist areas after the tourist season. The attractions are nearly empty of other tourists, the roads are empty of other cars. Many camping areas are closed, making our camping plans somewhat tenuous, but the weather has held out for us, so it's not too cold!

We are currently at the Kimball, Nebraska Public Library, once again making use of the free computers, but our trip to Nebraska is merely passing through to get to Colorado. We are not destined to live in the Great Plains states - maybe a little too much of the wide open spaces.

Goodbyes

Goodbye whistle pigs, you early hibenators, already long asleep in your dens.
Goodbye mosquitos, a blessedly short season.
Goodbye Asian kids, returning home after grand trips to San Fran, New York, Las Vegas.
Goodbye co-workers, one by one returning to homes, families, school.
Hello snow?
Goodbye horseback rides and bus tours and cookouts.
Goodbye tourists with unknown faces, checked in and out 100 plus a day.
Goodbye foreigners who don't speak English. "Thank you, goodbye," we say to each other for a lack of anything better.
Goodbye green leaves and sage brush and elk bugling in the middle of the night.
Goodbye to all the young ladies who were entertained by Alex's antics in the Terrace Grill.
Goodbye to bad food, long hours (or short hours, depending on the time of year), and unusual co-workers.
Goodbye Boiling River. We will miss you.
Goodbye Yellowstone National Park.

14 days and counting...

What have we been doing? Why have there been no postings? These are both very good questions.

I think they're trying to kill us.

Well, okay, maybe not. However, all I'm really doing right now is working and sleeping. Working, some sleeping. I'm working overtime. This sounds okay until you realize that overtime, in Xanterra terms, doesn't start until after 48 hours/week. That's a lot of hours. I'm not an overtime person - it just wears me out. That's where the sleeping comes in. I have 4 split shifts a week plus a full morning shift on Sundays, so I nap in between shifts as my shifts don't allow for a full 8 hours of sleep a night. Alex's last 2 weeks will be spent working 6 days a week, leaving us only one day for hiking together. Oh yeah - we also have to pack. Anyone want to buy a microwave?

Crazy Hikers

Did you all already know that Alex and I are crazy? Or at least we are when it comes to hiking.

We're counting down our last "weekends" here, so we're trying to fit in all of the hikes in the Mammoth area that we haven't done yet. We had a slow start to our hiking season as we adjusted to the new standing jobs and recovered from our various illnesses brought on by communal living, so we are still only physically able to comfortably complete about 8 miles a day of our weekend. Plus, we've been pushing to finish the 100 miles of Rec Center's 100 Mile Hiking Club. Thus, we've become crazy hikers, doing hikes beyond our ability as if we're in a panic that we'll never get to go hiking again once we leave YNP.

Last weekend's hike started with a rumor of moose, a more rare siting in YNP than in the Grand Tetons, on the way to Cache Lake. So, off we went, unwittingly choosing the path that started off with 2 miles straight uphill (there was a flatter option). The day started overcast, so we told each other, "We can turn around at any point." We met a couple of horseback riders who had told each other the same thing! On the way uphill, we ran into a large group of hikers with a ranger (it's rare to run into any hikers, much less large group, so this was a rare sighting). "There's a large bull elk on the trail ahead. Be careful," warned the ranger. He was a giant elk with a huge rack, but, alas, Alex missed the good picture. As mile after mile passed, we entered into a valley with a creek and wetlands - perfect moose habitat. "Let's go a little bit further," we kept saying, in the hopes of spotting the bull moose that was spotted by co-workers the day before. Finally, it was just a few more miles to Cache Lake, so we decided to push ahead, reaching the 7 mile point at the lake, where we met up with the horseback riders again (they'd had some trouble with some fallen trees across the trail that we were able to crawl under, but the horses couldn't step over). Note that we were at our mileage limit, and still had the 7 miles to hike back. Fortunately, Alex and I have set up the precedent to take a nap mid-hike. While the riders ate lunch, then rode away, Alex and I settled in for a snooze under the now present sun. An hour later and somewhat refreshed, we hit the trail on the way back. Back in the valley, Alex looked down a dry creek bed to see a nice-sized female moose. He snapped a couple of pictures, then promptly started up the trail. "Wait a minute," I said, "You wanted to see a moose and now you're not even going to watch it?" So we paused. The moose turned and headed down to creek bed, followed by her calf that emerged from the bushes. They rounded a corner, so we climbed a hill adjacent to the creek and watched them until they disappeared into some trees. For some reason, I was cranky the rest of the hike back, and lagging on the uphills. We missed both dinner and the archeology in YNP talk we'd been waiting to go to.

This weekend, we decided it was time to hike Ospry Falls. I wanted to bike to the trailhead from Mammoth, but Alex didn't feel like getting on his bicycle. It's a good thing that we didn't take the bikes as the road that I thought was a gradual downhill was actually mostly a steep uphill. We would have been walking anyway. The falls were great and we had a wonderful hike, culminating with startling the elk herds (antlered bulls included) grazing in the area and spotting 2 horned owls sitting in the trees. Once again, we missed dinner (darn), and just had to go get steaks and beans in Gardiner. Our "quick hike", at 10 miles, ended up being the long way to Ospry Falls, but it rounded out the last miles we needed to finish the 100 Mile Hike Club.

True conversation at the barista stand

Picture a man with graying hair approaching the barista stand one evening last week, when I wasn't too busy.

Man: What kind of deer are those out there?
Me: Those are elk.
Man: But what are those little horns?
Me (thinking): ????, probably with a blank look on my face
Me: Let me go look. (looks out the front doors of the hotel - barista stand is in the lobby, near to my front desk friends)
Me: Those are female elk. Oh - Those are their ears.

Phew, I made it

I survived my 1st day by myself as a barista. The day started uneventfully enough. We're supposed to arrive at work at 5:45 AM (yes, I'm going to become a morning person!), but I decided to show up at 5:30 just to make sure I had enough time to get everything ready, especially since this is the first time I've set up the barista stand by myself. I got my first two requests for coffee before 6 AM ("Sorry, we're not open until 6:30." -Don't get between someone and their coffee, Tom says.) By the time I sat down to eat breakfast at 6:10, I was already running a little short on time, but I had a quick breakfast and headed over to the hotel lobby with my last 2 carafes of coffee, finished setup, and was ready by 6:30.
A couple of minutes later, I served my first few cups of coffee. Suddenly, within a half an hour, there was a line that lasted until 9:45. Phew, I can start my cleanup and be ready to close up right on time in 15 minutes. I had just enough time to dump the sink reservoir (we have water running to the barista stand, but no waste line running from it), when Jenn from the gift shop took the opportunity to finally get her latte. "You've had a line all morning." Just as she was leaving, a foreign gentleman showed up, and the next thing I knew, I had a line again. I was just wrapping up my very last latte at 10:20 when 2 preteen girls showed up for hot chocolates. "I'm just closing," I explained to their father. "But it's her birthday and I promised her hot chocolate for her birthday." I'm seriously doubting it was anyone's birthday, but I made the hot chocolates anyway. The girls paid for the drinks, so I didn't even get a tip!
I would like to say the morning went without mishap, but there were a couple. First, there were the women that were mad that there weren't any coffee makers in the rooms. "Unfortunately, the wiring in the buildings are too old to accommodate coffee makers in all of the rooms," I countered. Well, apparently other hotels in the park have free coffee for their guests in the lobbies. I have no control over that decision, so I didn't have any other comments. One lesson I learned is to go get another caraff of coffee from the kitchen across the street when I'm down to the last one, even if there is a line. I ran out midway through an Eastern European man's second large coffee, so I charged him for the full cup and gave him the other one for free. He walked away muttering in his native tongue, apparently never understanding that he only paid for the full cup of coffee. The biggest snafu, however, was after I made two beautiful large vanilla mochas. I turned back to the espresso machine to make the next latte to find two full shots of espresso sitting on it. Oops. It was too late, the guests had disappeared, but I kept hoping they would come back when they realized the caffeine had never kicked in.
To all of you, I wish a beautiful latte, with foam and milk mixed until it looks like marshmallow fluff, and a hot shot of espresso, pressed just right to bring out the flavor and the creme.

About the Grass

One of the great mysteries for me here at Mammoth has been the watering of the grass. The Mammoth Hot Springs area is in a high desert environment, surrounded by sage brush and grasses that dry out during the summer. The buildings of Mammoth, however, are surrounded by green lawns, kept green by a rotation of water pouring out of sprinkler systems throughout the property. While it irritated me, especially when the water makes it difficult to get in and out of the dorm or the EDR and when I see small streams running down the roadways, I never found out the reasoning until a guest complained about the noise of the sprinklers running outside his hotel window in the middle of the night. "Doesn't Xanterra have an Ecologix program? Then what are they doing watering the lawns when it's been raining?" he queried. I could only agree with him because that was exactly what I had been thinking. Besides, what is the deal behind watering lawns in the world's premier national park where everything is supposed to be "natural"?

Fortunately, Suzanne, a fellow Guest Service Agent at the front desk, has been reading up on Yellowstone facts. "Haven't you noticed that Mammoth is the only location with grass?" she quizzed me. Well, yes, I guess I have, but I never really thought about it. According to her reading, when the army moved into the Park to take control over the poachers, they wanted grass around their new fort so they brought in sod. Ah, the grass has historical value. "Besides," she also pointed out, "if the grass wasn't here, the elk wouldn't be here." "They wouldn't?" "Well, they don't hang around anywhere else." She has a point. Mammoth is known for the elk herds that come down from the hills to munch on the greenery. Tourists stay in this area just to see them. I thought they just liked the safety of the buildings, but you don't hear about the elk herds of Old Faithful. Plus, an elk was apparently killed in the middle of the night on the steps of the Dining Room by wolves last winter. So much for safety among the buildings.

The word on the watering from the maintenance department - if they don't super-saturate the grass in this dry climate with this poor soil, it won't stay green. Even when it's raining.

Entering the Crazy Life

Tomorrow, Friday, I start my new schedule and my new life. Apparently, nearly all employees remaining after Labor Day get unwillingly drafted into extra hours as students, foreigners, and people with other lives leave Yellowstone to drift back to their homelands. Already, the front desk has lost Carrie to school and Zane to adventure. Soon to leave are Suzanne and Ariel, both heading home. We should be used to the exodus of employees by now as Xanterra overhired this year and maintains a culture that encourages employees to quit or get fired, so we have already seen many of our co-workers depart. (Yes, I could be fired for that last statement, which is why I have carefully avoided telling any of my mangers that I maintain a blog. And yes, by this point, Alex and I are definitely among the cynic Xanterra employees.)



But, I digress. My new life. My new days off are Wednesdays and Thurdays with every other day of the week booked with work. I'll be working 4 days of split shifts, splitting 2 of the days between barista and front desk and working two 5 hour shifts per day as barista the other 2 days. That leaves Sunday, my 8 hour shift at the front desk. Apparently, I was an item in negotiation between the Front Desk Manager and the Food & Beverage Manager with the first agreement being that I would work 20 hours for each department. The F&B Manager, perhaps playing on the fact that I told both managers that I had really wanted the barista job to begin with, bluffed his way into getting 30 hours for barista and 10 for front desk, me finding out later that I would have lost the barista job had someone stepped forward who didn't need to be negotiated for. (Another Xanterra secret. When applying, we were under the impression we could move between jobs. When Alex was asking about an open Security Job position, we found out that our current manager can prevent a move to a better or more appealing job.) The interesting tidbit comes when I add up all of my new hours. The "30" hours as barista doesn't include time for clean up, so it's actually closer to 33 hours. The front desk managers jumped on every possible shift free from my barista duties, so the "10" hours at the front desk has grown to 16. Sadly, overtime doesn't start until 48 hours and managers are very sharp at not letting their employees' hours creep into overtime. My in between shift hours will definitely include napping and I might have to get Alex to do the laundry. However, it will be worth it to get barista experience. It is very difficult to get a barista job without experience. And it's only for a month and a half.

Late Breaking News

Tomorrow, I start my training as a Barista! This all happened at about 5 PM today. The Barista position was posted in the EDR and I left word of my interest about 1 1/2 weeks ago. Negotiations were conducted via email between the Food and Beverage Manager and my Front Desk Manager, interrupted by their opposing days off, as to how much I would work for each department. The Front Desk lost out on the original agreement of a 50/50 split today when Scott (F&B) revealed his true intentions of having me work 30 hours a week. I'm suspecting that I may just be working a lot of hours in the next month and a half, getting pulled between the two departments. However, due to the difficulty in getting a barista job without experience, I think the month and a half will be well spent training needed for getting future coffee house jobs and a step in the right direction for determining if we ever want to get a coffee shop of our own.

I have a lot to learn and it appears I'll have 2 days to learn it. For starters, I have the bad habit of mispronouncing "barista" - not "bar -ee - sta", like the Italians would say it, but I say the "i" more like the i in "it". Also, I have stubbornly refused to learn the sizes of the drinks throughout the years, insisting on ordering my coffees in small, medium, or large (usually small). Is it odd that, although I love a good cup of coffee, and cafe au laits, and lattees, I usually can't drink caffeine because it gives me a headache, and yet I want to be a barista? The other barista that works the days I won't drinks tea, so I guess not.

Alex is busy telling me about his evening motorcycle ride, so I must go. (Note that he hasn't been a guest writer yet.) We have many stories left to tell - my birthday evening, our trip up the Beartooth Highway, our trip to Cody - that I'm hoping to get caught up soon.

Weighing the years

This Sunday is my 39th birthday. For some reason, it is weighing heavily on me this year. I'm counting the days down until I'm just one year shy of 40. I would have thought I would have waited for next year, when I'm really turning 40, to be full of the awareness of another decade passing by, but I guess I decided to ponder on this issue this year.



Perhaps this is similar to my 26th birthday. During my 25th year, I'd gotten married, bought a house, and was "stuck" in a job I didn't particularly care for. 26 came with the realization that I had bills and responsibilities, listened to NPR, and was now officially a grownup. 30 passed with hardly a glance - I'd made goals to accomplish by the time I turned 30 (except for marriage - I hadn't made plans for marriage, expecting to gradually grow into spinsterhood), but I had already accomplished them by the time I turned 26.



So, here I am at 39, in another round of unusual work circumstances, slowly winding down the summer season of work, looking forward to leaving our cramped dorm room, but wondering what's next. While you all, except the Oregon Coasters, are likely experiencing the Dog Days of August, Fall is already in the air here with cool evenings, cool mornings, and afternoon rain showers, reminding us that just 2 months remain until we are adrift again, looking for work and looking for the land of Real Summer.



Perhaps the real number that's weighing on me is 50 - in 2 months, Alex turns 50. Since he has always claimed that he's going to live to be 100, he is definitely at his mid-age. I've already decided that October is going to be a month of birthday parties - 1st at YNP, 2nd will likely be in AZ with Alex's family when we pass through after our tour of Colorado and New Mexico, then the last one back in Oregon. I have yet to plan any of these, our indeterminate plans after October 11 (our end date with Xanterra) making it difficult to set a time frame for the parties, but I think Alex's induction into AARP is a perfectly good reason to have birthday parties all month long.



In the end, Sunday will likely pass just like any other day. Alex and I both have the morning shift, starting at 6:30. I'll get off around 2:30 and wait for him to wrap up his food prep for the day, usually around 4:00. If we're not too tired, we'll have an early dinner and go for a hike. Perhaps Alex will buy me a beer later on. Since we both report for work Monday morning, we'll call it a night early in the evening. If I'm lucky, Alex will remember to wish me a "Happy Birthday." :-) Then, I'll look forward to next year, when 40 will come in like a lamb.



On a side note, I've known my birthday was going to be on a Sunday since May 23, my father's birthday. When I was a child, living in Ohio, I made an astonishing discovery while writing my family's birthdays on my calendar - all 5 members of my immediate family have their birthdays on the same day of the week. Since they all fall after February (think leap year), this was not only true for that one year, but it happens year after year. As a child, I thought it was very special. As an adult, I still find it rather unusual. I was thinking about it again last night and rhetorically asked myself, "What are the odds?" Later (while in bed trying to go to sleep, which seems a reasonable time to be working on mathematical problems, right?), I realized I know what the odds are - 1 in 16807.

Oh Bozeman

I firmly believe that Alex is much more generous than I am, so when one of his Colombian co-workers asked for a ride to the airport to return home, he readily agreed. (I think I would have been more reticent - maybe not, I guess it depends on the co-worker.) So Sunday after I got off of work, we packed up the truck with Y's luggage and 2 of her friends and headed into Bozeman. I fell asleep during the 1 1/2 hour ride, waking up as we entered Bozeman to Alex saying, "I think something's wrong with the truck. It feels like the transmission is slipping."

We made it to the mall where Y wanted to do some shopping for gifts to take home, only to find out that the only store still open was JC Penny's. It's a small mall in a small town, so it closes early on Sundays. Y and her friends went off shopping while Alex and I tried to figure out what to do with the truck... and the extra passengers who were planning on getting back to Yellowstone that night. We thought we'd be able to drive the truck to a hotel for the night and to a repair shop in the morning, but definitely didn't want to risk getting stuck on the long lonely roads between Bozeman and Yellowstone in an attempt to get back. While we were discussing our predicament, K and some other Xanterra employees just happened to walk past on the mall sidewalk. Now, really, what are the chances of this happening? While Alex ran after K to ask him to take our extra passengers back with him, I called work to let them know we wouldn't be coming in on Monday. Both departments were kind enough to work something else out so we could stay in Bozeman and take care of the truck, although I'm not sure how either of us would have been able to show up for work as K's car was full with his new passengers.

With Y finally finished up shopping at JC Penny's (note to self, we are not compatible shoppers with Y, so if we're ever in Colombia, do not agree to go shopping), we started to drive out of the parking lot on our way to the hotel. Unbelievably, the transmission completed its death throes just as we pulled out into the middle of an intersection. How do the flashers work? Aagh. Alex and I jumped out of the car and started pushing. Suddenly, another man appeared, who had jumped out of his car, and helped us push the truck into a parking space. We were distracted and he went back to his car as soon as we were parked, so "thank you" to the anonymous man who helped us get out of the intersection.

What to do now? Y still wanted to do more shopping, but there was no way we were going to get her there. At this point (8 PM), I was very hungry and getting very grumpy. We'd already found out that the Holiday Inn had a shuttle to the airport, so I suggested to Alex to call to find out if they would come pick us up. Fifteen minutes later, we were in the van to the hotel which is conveniently located across the street from Walmart (Y's shopping) and Applebee's (my dinner). After a night in the hotel and getting the truck to Bozeman Transmission in the morning (once again grateful that I still pay for AAA every year), what's the moral of the story? All the good things that happened:

• When I called into the front desk in the morning to talk with Natalie, a Bozeman resident, to find out about taking public transportation back to YNP, the first thing she said was, "I'll come get you." Which she and her roommate, Sarah, did right after they got off of work.
• Calling into work to let them know of our troubles and having both Carol Anne and Tim say, "We'll work it out without you."
• Checking in at the Holiday Inn at the reduced Xanterra rate and having them pick us up at the mall, take Y to the airport at 4:30 AM, give us toothbrushes, toothpaste, extra lotion, and a comb, getting free breakfast, then having them take us back to the mall the next day, all given generously and without question.
• The nice man who helped us at the interstection.
• Getting to ride the free Bozeman bus system - we were well out of walking distance back to town at the transmission shop, but grateful to be able to get back into town for lunch, dinner, and a nap in Lindley Park.
• Meeting the mechanic and having him remind us of a friend from Oregon. He was recommended by the tow truck driver and seems as forthright and honest as our mechanic in Tillamook. (I've realized there are some really hard things about moving that include finding a new mechanic and finding a new hairstylist - I never knew how troubling it is to have a bad haircut until I got my 1st haircut here.)
• The good fortune of having someone appear right when you need him to so he can literally take part of the "problem" away with him (K giving our 2 extra passengers a ride).

Unfortunately, we can't make the bill for the new transmission disappear, but so many people made this situation a lot easier.

Bikers in Yellowstone

I am not a biker, in any sense of the word, or in any manner of the bikes we own. Yet I persist in the belief that I am a biker - or at least I could be a biker.

Part of the problem, as I tell Alex, is that I'm not a "wind in my hair" type of gal. Each time we take out the motorcycle, Alex attempts to get me to wear one of our 3 faceless helmets, but I always opt for the full face one, blaming my contacts or eyeglasses - "I don't like the wind in my eyes," I say. Alex, being a good sport, has braved a few cold winds for me, content to wear his half helmet and protection glasses.

Yesterday, I attempted, once again, to be the other type of biker - on my bicycle. Despite it's lack of use, I love my bicycle. Alex bought it for me to meet my own special criteria. It has shocks, a wide padded seat and upright handle bars so I can sit up while I'm pedalling. My bicycling posture incites me to hum Miss Gulch's tune from the "Wizard of Oz." The only things I'm missing are the basket and the dog. I have fantasies of living close to work and riding the trusty bike to work everyday, but have yet to have had that reality. In Oregon, there was the rain. Of course, the rain is a good excuse to not do a lot of things. (I just finished reading "Sometimes a Great Notion," which has great descriptions of the Oregon coast rain. However, despite Ken Kesey's adept prose, it's difficult to comprehend the insidious grasp of the rain on the mind without living there.) Here, on the roads filled with tourists, riding the bicycle is taking one's life in one's hands. We left many of our possessions at home, but the bicycles are items, when I'm wondering how we still have so much stuff with us crammed into our room, the truck and the trailer, that I think would have been better left at home.

Still, I was feeling adventurous yesterday and we had the bicycles out of the trailer due to hauling the motorcycle into Bozeman to have a tire replaced (another one of my quandaries - if you have a motorcycle, it seems to me it should be ridden, not hauled around in a trailer, but here we are hauling it around in a trailer). I strapped on my helmet, put on my biker shorts and gloves and headed up the road. I had a destination in mind, but I still had to go up the road past the Hot Springs and all the tourists. Huff, huff. It was part way up the hill towards my destination, when I was breathing heavy, getting dry mouth and realizing I was not coordinated enough to navigate tourist traffic and drink from my water bottle at the same time (here's jealousy for the bike riders that can ride with no hands downhill while guzzling from a water bottle), that it dawned on me that I really am not a bike rider. In high school, it was merely a substitute when I couldn't be running due to injuries, so I didn't do it. Plus, I still have that childhood fear of hitting a rock and flipping over the handle bars, accentuated by sitting atop a tall seat on a large bike. I have fat tires designed for off-road travel, so this really shouldn't be a problem, but this fear creeps in on every downhill. Fortunately, my bike has many low gears, so I huffed my way up the hill to my destination - a 5 mile dirt road that encircles Bunsen Peak. I reviewed the bear warnings and ventured down the road, only to come upon a very long downhill. What goes down must come up, right?

"This really would be a lot more fun with Alex," I thought. Plus, it was nearly time for lunch.

Hooray for Public Libraries

Once again, I am sitting with my 1 hour guest pass at a computer in a public library - this time it's the Bozeman Public Library, a beautiful building full of books and public art. When asking Natalie, one of my co-workers at the front desk, how she liked Bozeman, her permanent home city, one of her first comments was, "It has a great library." I was very impressed by her comment as I wasn't sure 20 year olds spent a lot of time at libraries anymore. I'm happy to have been proved wrong!

I may be using more of the library system as Xanterra keeps threatening to start charging us $30/month to use the Internet system at our dorm, despite having promised us free Internet and computer access (which never materialized) as part of our employment benefits. Sigh. I'm sure you all know me well enough that rather than pay the $30/month, I'll end up driving to the Gardiner library during their open hours. I'd like to find out if they have books on Yellowstone to loan out, anyway. I keep plotting to make my blog postings more frequent, but, alas, this may make them more infrequent. Perhaps I'll start a handwritten journal again and pull my blogs from there.

Here's hoping for more postings from the dorm room.....

The sounds of Yellowstone

Chirp, chirp of the pika, a small hamster like animal, daring us to find him among the talus. Introduced to us by Ken who takes special trips to Sheepeater Cliff to watch out for them.

The strange call of the elk, mother to calf, calf to mother, enticing us to look for them up in the hills.

Falling asleep to the Screech, screech! of the Screech Owl nesting somewhere in Fort Yellowstone.

The grunting of the bison, who are nearing rutting season, which seems to be driving the young males crazy. The older males strut about the herd, already picking out their mating partner, while the young males run around in circles, occasionally doing some experimental head butting, preparing for the fights to come.

"Step away from the elk," blares the Park Ranger's bullhorn, warning visitors that it is not okay to pet the elk, much less try to sit on them.

High pitched whistles coming from the yard. Is it a bird? No, it's a "whistle pig", otherwise known as an uinta ground squirrel.

The thrum of an overloaded washing machine, which apparently only bothers me as Alex drifts off to sleep mid-sentence in his book at 10 o'clock at night. (Ah, to be a heavy sleeper.)

"Squawk, squawk," chatters the magpie, sitting in a crook of the aspen outside my window. Is he talking to me?

Thanks to Alex's careful conditioning, I look up from my post at the front desk everytime I hear the distinctive rumbling of a pack of Harley-Davidson motorcycles driving by the hotel.

Grizzly Lake Loop

Here is the description of this hike that I wrote for my Yellowstone Degree Hiking Learn Sheet:



"Hike is roughly midway between Norris and Mammoth. In order to do this hke as a loop, you will need either 2 cars, or, as we did, lock your bikes at one trailhead and park at the other, enjoying the approximately 3 mile easy bike ride on the road back to your car after the hike. Starting at the southern end, read the sign at the trailhead to learn about the 2 devastating fires in this area. Walk through the still small, but 20 year old, trees and past wet lands, through the rolling terrain. After about 2.5 miles, the trail seems to end at the back country campsites at the confluence of Grizzly Lake and the outflow of STraight Creek. Make your own way across Stright Creek by braving the log jam, finding a log to cross, or finding a shallow place to ford and pick up the trail on the other side of the lake, heading south a bit until the trail makes a wide turn around some wetlands to head back north. This section of the trail follows Straight Creek, then Winter Creek from a ridge above, offering views of the creekbeds and wide grasslands. There are 2 more stream fording opportunities before you get back to the road at the north trailhead."



Given the limited space on the form, there is much I left out...

This trail was another one of my stellar ideas. I didn't have a description, but I had spied it on my map. It seemed to follow the contour lines, so I thought it would be a flat 6.4 miles. This was promptly disproven as we rounded the first wetland area and approached the large hill that lay between us and Grizzly Lake. Lacking a description, we didn't know what we were open to a new adventure. Fortunately, I followed my intuition and brought the map along with me. The trail seemed straight forward, but I brought it "just in case."



I had promised Alex a flat trail, but he promptly forgave me for the ups and downs as we became preoccupied with the shapes of the grayed downed trees, remants of the past fires. Plus. the flowers are still in bloom, giving us fields of purples, reds and yellows to admire. After about 2 1/2 miles, we descended a hill to Grizzly Lake. I was hoping for a swim, which actually isn't recommended at most locations in the park due to the coldness of the waters, but the breeze was pretty strong, kicking up waves in the lake. It looked a little dangerous to me. We followed the trail around the side of the lake, ate a snack in a sheltered area, and then followed the trail until it literally disappeared at the edge of the lake. We knew it should follow the stream northward, but the way was barred with fallen trees. Aha! The map! The map pointed us across the creek where no trail was visible and provided no indication as to how to get there.



Alex and I are a bit of selfish hikers. We tend to hop in our truck and wander off by ourselves, leaving a note of where we're going written on a message board in our room (should we disappear into the wild). We know we have co-workers without cars that would hop into the back seat and join us on one of our adventures, but we still find it easier to just head out by ourselves. (An additional person definitely would have complicated the bike plan.) As we struggeled to find our way across the river, I was glad we were alone. Alex promptly found a workable log and scampered across the creek, leaving me on the east bank. "How am I going to do this," I wondered out loud. I tried finding a long stick to brace myself against the bed of the creek, but the water was moving too fast to make this feasible. Finally, I tentatively stepped up on the log, shuffling my feet slowly across, stepping gently over branch nubs, until I reached a point where the log rounded. A seemingly impassable ridge had formed along the tree during it's life span, making shuffling across an impossible balancing act. I froze. I couldn't turn around, but I couldn't step forward. Alex, with great patience, found a brance that he could extend out to me, putting himself at jeopard of slipping into the creek. Finally, I grabbed it, and, on the count of 3, he pulled me across in 3 quick steps. Phew.



But we still hadn't found the trail. After wandering around at the edge of another wetland, we finally decided to try heading back to the lake, where we promptly picked up a trail...heading in the wrong direction. "I want to follow it to see where it goes," I insisted. The trail follow the lake for a brief period, then began to curve back to the north, just where we wanted to go.

The hike out was beautiful. The trail was up above the creeks a little, giving us a view of the creek beds and surrounding areas. We were below the ridge line, so we were more protected from the wind. Throughout the hike, we admired the wildflowers and hoped to see wildlife (we saw some robins and a pretty butterfly). At the 2nd creek crossing, I got to pull Alex across as I was able to wade through the shallower depth in my waterproof boots. At the 3rd creek crossing, I watched Alex stroll across a log about 5 feet above the water (a little to high for my liking), then gave up crossing over logs and found a shallower place where I could take off my boots and wade across, Alex laughing at me the whole time. He did find a skull and bones, replete with antlers, of an elk. It was a little unnerving to see a leg that still had fur and a hoof!

Finally, we made it back to the road and our bicycles. The 3 mile bike back to the truck was very easy and leisurely - sometimes the best laid plans do work out after all.

View from our window #3

Look how big the babies are! How fast they grow up. Unfortunately, I didn't have a good shot of the bull with antlers still in velvet that's amongst the herd. He's behind some of the cows to the right of the picture.

Now, when I see elk, I think of the guests who call down to the front desk wanting to know what time the elk come out in the evening. Was I being flip when I replied, "The elk are independently minded beasts, sir"? I didn't mean to be, but that's what came out. How to convey that the elk just pass through whenever they want to? Sometimes we pretend we called them up specifically for the guests.

It's interesting to have the elk pass this close to the tourists. In the background, behind the herd, are orange cones and Park Rangers in a effort to keep the tourists from doing something stupid. Like...a couple of weeks ago our bellman ran out and yelled at a family who had walked up to an elk and starting petting it. Apparently, the elk had enough when the parents tried to put the son on its back. Not deterred, the family started chasing the elk, so finally the bellman just had to yell at them.

I've now learned what an elk sounds like. The mothers and calves call to each other to keep track of each other.

Alex got a promotion!

Is anyone surprised? He's been working for the past week as the head prep cook for the Terrace Grill. His hours have suddenly jumped from just shy of 30 hours a week to 48 hours a week. Unfortunately, this opportunity came at the loss of other employees at the grill as they moved on for various reasons, but it's a good fit for him. He works pretty much independently and this has given him the chance to meet other people in the kitchens that serve the Grill, Dining Room, and EDR. The Grill is in the process of filling their vacant manager position and, once that's accomplished, they should be filling the assistant prep cook position, so Alex's hours should come down to around 40 hours soon. The position also came with a raise, but I'm still comparing our wages to Oregon's minimum wage ($8.50) (vs Wyoming at $7.40), so we're both still in our sub-minimum wage (per Oregon's standards) jobs. :-)

Now, the question is should Alex go for the vacant Shift Leader position? It would mean another raise, but it would also mean being responsible for the shift he's on - responsibility he's taking a break from after closing down Rangel Construction for our "working vacation."

Sunset on the Mountain

We headed up the Old Gardiner Road to smoke Alex's prayer pipe this evening. We found a patch of grass to sit in surrounded by small sage plants. As Alex filled the pipe, we noticed the sounds of the songbirds filling the air. The setting sun lit the bottom of the gray clouds with a rim of pink-red. As we smoked, the chirping birds grew louder, surrounding us with their song as they grew comfortable with our quiet presence. Eventually, one bird flew in nearby, hopping on and off a glacial rock embedded in the earth. (An lbb - little brown bird - in birding terms. Discounted by bird sighting collectors, but appreciated by those of us who know that they are the ones who give us the songs.) As the sun set, we sent our prayers out to the surrounding mountains and fading blue sky and meditated on the songs of our new feathered companions.

Bunsen Peak

Now that we are finally healthy, we are starting to tackle some of the hiking trails in our area. We're both between 1/4 and 1/3 of the way to completing the 100 mile hiking club certificate, so we need to get walking! Last night, after work, I had the urge to tackle Bunsen Peak, just 5 miles up the road from here. At 4.2 miles round trip, it's definitely do-able in an evening, but with a 1300 foot climb, it was questionable if the 2 of us would be up to it after being on our feet all day at work. We decided to give it a shot.

We arrived at the parking lot in time to greet another couple returning from the Glen Creek trail across the road. "Just in time," he said, as a few splatters of rain dropped on us. "Just in time," I said a few minutes later when we noticed 3 river otters in a nearby stream had come to visit. We watched them dip in and out of the water, swimming around and over each other, for a while until they disappeared in a drainage culvert. "Time to go hiking," we agreed, and headed up the trail.

The first thing we noticed were the mosquitoes. We were warned to bring bug spray on our trip to Yellowstone, but, thus far, haven't had any need for it. Thankfully, for me, the mosquitoes seemed to be swarming mostly around Alex, still stinky from his work around the grill and greasy french fries. I killed a few on my arms and worried about the welts that resulted, but we decided to press forward. Once out of the trees, the mosquitoes disappeared, so we were happy with our decision.

The description for Bunsen Peak reads, "Climb through forest and meadow to the summit of Bunsen Peak, which has panoramic views of the Blacktail Plateau, Swan Lake Flat, Gallatin Mountain Range, and the Yellowstone River Valley. (You'll also see communications equipment, which supplies Mammoth and nearby communities.)" It is rated as moderately strenuous. Not mentioned is that the 2.1 miles out is the 1300 foot climb - one way going up the mountain, the return trip coming back down. Alex and I were feeling particularly fine - that is until we got close to the top and I started to lag. Just about then, we had a return of mosquitoes, so I was well motivated to keep going. Plus, the description was right - we had fabulous views all the way up. From the trail, we could see the hoodoos bunched together across the Mammoth-Norris road. Further up, we admired Swan Lake Flats and the multitude of smaller lakes also in the valley. Near the top, we got into some rocks that tinked together as we walked, reminding us of marimbas. At the top, with our panoramic views, we discovered that the Gardiner River has it's own canyon (separate from the "Grand Canyon" of the Yellowstone River that is a hot tourist spot), and planned our motorcycle ride to the distant Beartooth Mountains. Unable to linger due to the lateness of the day, we left the communications equipment and headed back downhill, hoping for another glimpse of the large fox we'd seen on the way up. (BTW, we are still seeing coyotes here and there, but this was a quite different looking beast.) A light breeze had kicked up, so we were virtually mosquito free on the way down! After our hard labors, we went to the employee pub and treated ourselves to a beer and nachos.

Another mystery - Alex was swarmed with mosquitos and I had not so many. I returned with a welt on my neck, one behind my ear, two on each arm, and one on my hip (how it bit through my jeans, I don't know). Alex has not one single bite.

Day of Coyotes

Yesterday finally contrived to be the perfect day to take the motorcycle out for a ride. Tired from the hike from the day before, we were debating on what would be the perfect trail, Bunsen Peak (short, but steep), Grizzly Lake (flat, but longer and involving either some hitchhiking or bike riding). Our early start was snafued by Alex providing prolonged assistance to A, who was moving out and heading back to New Mexico. What was supposed to be a short drive into Gardiner turned into delays while waiting for A. to get his room checked (who himself had to wait), finalize departure paperwork, cash his check, and say good-bye to co-workers. Finally, it was lunch time and the sun had come out and the day had warmed up (the weather after our return from SD had turned too cool for us to venture out riding).

We hit the road, destined to traverse the upper loop. (When looking at a map of the Yellowstone roads, you'll note that they make a good impression of a figure eight, the upper loop being the upper half of the eight, the lower loop being the lower half.) While the entire drive is roughly 60 miles, we knew it could take the rest of the afternoon to make the loop. Speed limits in the park are limited to 45 mph and are often 35, and there are frequently "animal jams" and almost always slow moving tourists.

As we bundled up, I was reminded that Alex has the habit of taking up expensive and uncomfortable hobbies. As I was standing in the sun waiting for Alex to start the bike, my costume of jeans with lycra pants underneath, 2 shirts, scarf, leather jacket and gloves, and full-face helmet, starting to toast in the warm day, reminded me of the various times we've stood on sea shores in our heavy black wet suits, starting to broil, waiting to don our weights and tanks to go scuba diving.

Our drive started south, to Norris. On the way, we checked out the 2 ends of the Grizzly Lake trail head, preparing to bring our truck and bicycles south to tackle the loop, then pedal back to our truck along the road. While we had a successful hitchhiking adventure on Tuesday, we are both reluctant to finish a trail and have to rely on hitchhiking to get back to our truck 3 miles away. (Or maybe the 2 of us are too adept at self-reliance to want to be dependent upon the kindness of strangers.)

After turning left at Norris, we took the Virginia Cascade bypass, enjoying the stream and cascade, Alex slowing down so as to not drown out the families fishing the stream with the trademark rumble of his Harley. (Here's a Harley question - Many Harley owners upgrade their tailpipes in order to get the distinctive low rumble traditional to Harleys. We are then obliged to wear earplugs in order to not damage our ears while riding due to the noise. The point of the louder tailpipes therefore is?)

At Canyon, we stopped at the Canyon Visitor Center, taking in the display about the Yellowstone caldera. For those of you who aren't aware yet, much of Yellowstone is the caldera of a giant volcano. Should Yellowstone erupt again, it would devastate the earth, covering most of North America in ash and plunging the world into another ice age. 2012 anyone? The visitor center also touched on earthquakes, of which Yellowstone is second only to California in quantity. There's a really cool map display that lights up various parts of the park as a voice recording and written text are talking about them. We also learned about monitoring of the changing elevations of the caldera (for all you surveyors out there, imagine setting a benchmark, then discovering it has changed up to 3 feet in elevation due to the caldera pushing up the earth's crust). We also discovered that the upward pressure of the caldera caused an increased elevation, making the Yellowstone area more susceptible to past glaciers. We were tempted once again by the Yellowstone Association bookstore (Alex really wants to read the book "Death in Yellowstone: Accidents and Foolhardiness in the Nation's First Park"), but decided to postpone any purchases as we are in the midst of reading Dan Brown's latest book and I have yet to finish "Sometimes a Great Notion." We debated waiting for the Canyon EDR to open, but decided to eat our apples and push on without having dinner at Canyon.

The road between Canyon and Tower-Roosevelt passes over the highest pass in the park, Dunraven Pass. I think we have only driven from north to south in the past because I don't remember any of the amazing views that we enjoyed throughout this stretch of road. Perhaps I was tired and grumpy from being hungry and stuck in the truck all day, so maybe I missed the views. Spots of the pass give the "top of the world" feeling as we were looking over the Grand Canyon of Yellowstone all the way to the Beartooth Mountain range. In the future, we can garner an even more expansive view by hiking up to the top of Mt. Washburn. Perhaps we'll save this hike for a little later in the season as both trails to the top were swarmed with tourists hiking up and down the mountain when we passed by. While enjoying the grandious views, Alex and I don't forget to look for the minutia - the reds, purples, oranges, whites in the fields of wildflowers that we drifted by all the way down the mountain.

We finally arrived at the Roosevelt Lodge for dinner, by-passing the extremely crowded hiking trail to Tower Falls (this also looks like a hike we will want to do in September). We splurged on bison steak and elk burger for dinner, taking advantage of our 20% employee discount to enjoy a unique and fabulous meal.

Not having brought our binoculars and the discomfort of standing for long periods in our motorcycle gear, we bypassed the chance to stop in a couple of "bear jams", satisfied with our glimpses of them and having already had much better bear watching opportunities during our stay here. On our way back to Mammoth, we did get the chance to spot four coyotes along the side of the road. Traffic, along with us, stopped at all but the first (which only I saw), giving us the chance to watch the healthy dogs watch us, then wander off up the hill and out of sight. Wily coyote, trickster coyote, coyote, the harbinger of what??

Return from Sun Dance

We are back from a very successful Sun Dance, very glad we went.

It all started with a 4 day, Thursday through Sunday, vacation request. The traditional Sun Dance is 12 days long - 4 days of preparation (including Tree Day on the 4th day), 4 days of ceremony, and 4 days of rest after the ceremony. It was very important for us to get to this Sun Dance for a number of reasons - we knew this had been a hard year for most of the dancers; our friend L, whom we had just visited in Italy, was bringing his family over for his 4th and final dance; and we were hoping to visit a friend of ours who was having a particularly difficult year. We thought it was most important for us to get there for the 4 days of ceremony, which we could do by working an early shift on Wednesday (ending at 2:30) and a late shift on Monday (starting at 2:30). The work schedules run Thursday through Wednesday, so I was surprised to get see on my work schedule preceding our vacation that I had my regular days off - Tuesday and Wednesday. I talked with my managers who had no problem with me taking a total of 6 days. Once Alex reviewed the arrangements with his managers, we were ready to take off 2 days earlier that we'd thought we'd get to leave!

We wisely decided to leave early Tuesday morning, leaving time for us to wrap up packing up the truck Monday evening and giving us a chance to make stops in Livingston and Billings, MT on Tuesday during the day. (Sorry, D, we never did make it to your softball game.) We have happily discovered a couple of natural foods stores in Montana - the Bozeman Food Co-op and Montana Harvest, so we wanted to check out the latter in Bozeman for beet pills for Alex's gall bladder. While they were out of stock of the beet pills, we walked away with a bottle of green food, high fructose corn syrup free yogurt, orange and crunchy carrots, and super yummy frozen coconut bars. We had to eat all 4 of them right away as they wouldn't have stayed frozen in our little red cooler - darn. :-)

When we were planning our 11 hour drive from Mammoth Hot Springs to Cherry Creek, SD, we agreed that we would pull over and camp when we started to get tired rather than arrive at the Sun Dance site after dark. Looking at our map, we planned to pull over at the Indian holy site of Bear Butte State Park, just outside of the motorcycle town of Sturgis, SD. Sturgis was still in the guise as a sleepy little town as the rally doesn't start until August 9th, so the campground below Bear Butte was deserted when we pulled in. A clean pit toilet, pristine lake complete with swans, and a flat site to park the truck made for camping paradise. A thunderstorm rolled in while we were dining on sausage and fruit and continued through the evening, but we made ourselves cozy in the back of the truck and fell asleep to the sound of the pouring rain and the bright flashes of lightening. Alas, another car had pulled in, interrupting our solitude, but the downpour constructed a privacy curtain between us. We awoke to a glorious morning of sunshine and breakfast by the lake and met our temporary neighbors. They were a retired couple from Canada travelling around on holiday who often chose camp sites over the added expense of staying in hotels that lacked the benefit of waking up to a beautiful sunny, outdoor morning. Ironically, I had just wondered the evening before when we would be too old to continue our travel method of camping out of the back of the pickup and would conform to the societal norm of staying in hotel rooms. This lovely couple, who had fashioned a sleeping area on the floor of their mini-van with a storage area above (vs our truck where we have the storage below and the sleeping platform above), confirmed with me that we would be too old to camp out of the truck when we are no longer able to climb in back to go to bed! Fortunately, our new friends left just as we were finishing breakfast as I was keen on taking a quick bath (sans soap) in the lake. Refreshed and in clean clothes (we now have a clothes rod across the rear passenger seat of the truck left from our move to Yellowstone, making travelling with clothes infinitely easier), we took off for our drive into the heart of South Dakota, knowing that we would still arrive early enough to participate in the tree ceremony.

Driving down the dirt roads that serve as the country highways on the reservation and over the rolling hills of the grasslands of the South Dakota prairie, I am fixated on my newly acquired knowledge that there were once 40 to 60 million bison roaming the prairies. Decimated by the hunt for buffalo robes and the effort to exterminate the Indian tribes, the bison are now limited to a handful of free roaming herds in the US and Canada and roughly 500,000 (per Wikipedia) being raised for meat production. Despite the fenced in prairie land throughout our drive, indicating the presence of cattle industry ranches, I am still hopeful that one of the ancient bison herds will rise out of the prairie and rumble past us on their summer trek across the grasslands.

On our way to the Sun Dance grounds, we switch to "Indian time" - a place where time by a clock has no meaning, cell phones don't work, where time is measured by fits of activity, periods of resting, and meaning is given only by the passage of the sun overhead and the fullness of the evening moon. Looking at the grounds, I am reminded of why the traditional Sun Dance starts 4 days before the ceremony - the circle isn't set up, the food shack has been devastated by horses trying to gain shelter from winter and spring storms and won't be rebuilt this year, and the fire pit is full of water from last night's thunderstorm. We speculate that "someday" we will be able to arrive 4 days before ceremony and do something extraordinary on the Sun Dance grounds - build a pit toilet or rebuild the food shack, perhaps. But, we are, gratefully, on Indian time, so we are all able to take our time as we prepare the Sun Dance circle and arbors, empty the fire pit, and welcome other participants as they arrive. It's a time to greet our friends from last year and begin conversations with people we are meeting for the first time. Towards evening, it's time to go get the tree.

On that note, I'm going to suspend my discourse about Sun Dance as it is time for me to get ready to go to work. The weather has been an adventure here, with rain in the morning, thunderstorms in the evening, and sun and warmth through the middle of the day.

Summer Solstice

As June 21 approaches, it has become that time of year when Alex and I head to the Sun Dance he attends. We asked for 4 days off and ended up with 6, so we'll be heading to Cherry Creek, South Dakota on Tuesday. Alex will not be dancing this year, but we'll be supporting this year's dancers and reuniting with our Sun Dance friends. We're going to be celebrating Lucio's final (4th) dance to which he's bringing his wife & son from Italy (see the European trip blogs for more on Lucio's family).

We've had spells of sunshine with "scattered thunderstorms" here in YNP, so we're praying for sunshine for the Sun Dance, recognizing that the weather is quite different in SD, 10 hours east of here. It's been cool in SD, as we've been told, so please send your thoughts out for sun for Sun Dance. This is not a rain dance!

Alex has been having fun experiences watching elk, calves, bears, wolves, and tourists. If you want to encourage him to add them to the blog, please email him at cedarandsmoke@gmail.com.

We will be without a computer for the next week, but will update you when we get back!

The best laid plans

When we arrived in YNP, we were told that hitchhiking is legal within the park, or, at the very least, an accepted practice. One woman that I work with hitched every day for 2 weeks from training class at Mammoth the 5 miles to her RV in Gardiner. Her average pick up time is 5 minutes. Other returning park employees recommended making a sign that reads, "Employees," and the destination for quick pick ups. Apparently, 5 employees from Thailand managed to hitch from Mammoth all the way to Livingston, MT and back without trouble. Since all trails don't end where they begin and backpackers often need to get somewhere without a car, hitchhiking seems like a viable option for travelling to or from trail heads without the use of 2 cars. However, Alex and I are hitchhiking failures.

It all started with a good plan to get to the Hoodoos, 4 miles north of Mammoth. To hike out and back would mean a 4 mile hike uphill and an 8 mile total trip, not do-able in an evening. Hitching out to the trail head would result in a pleasant 4 mile stroll downhill, through the Hoodoos, around the upper Hot Spring Terraces, and back into Mammoth. The Hoodoos are weird rock formations, like giant statues not quite formed into discernible shapes, that I have been wanting to walk through since we arrived here in April. Alex and I both worked an early shift on Monday, so we decided to have an early dinner and go for it. I made my sign, " Employees to Bunsen Peak Trail head," and off we went, taking our friend K. and his new hiking stick along. We tried to pick a good spot - the Hot Springs parking lot, where cars would have plenty of room to pull over. I held up the sign and Alex and K. held out their thumbs, me sure that we'd be picked up within a half an hour, and we watched the evening traffic drive by. RVs, cars full of tourists, cars full of gear, cars with one driver and 3 empty seats in the back, couples that wouldn't look at us, despite having an empty back seat. We smiled and waved at the Park Rangers and dump truck drivers, knowing they probably were prohibited from picking us up. Some people smiled at us and waved, but the camping gear in the back seat indicated that they couldn't squeeze the 3 of us in with their gear. So we waited, and waited, and watched the sun drop lower in the sky. Finally, Alex called, "Enough," pointing out that we wouldn't have time to hike the 4 miles back before sundown. I refused to give up so easily, holding my sign out all the way back to the hotel, where T, the bellman, expressed great surprise at our hitchhiking failure, suggesting that we give it one more shot in front of the General Store/gas station. But, alas, by this point our wills were weak and we ran into some friends eating ice cream. Sometimes, the best laid plans change into other plans, so joined our friends for ice cream, went to play on the Fort Yellowstone playground, marvelling at how we used to be able to do pull-ups, swing across the monkey bars, bravely jump from the swings at the highest point of the arc, and I somehow fit on the slides, then we ended the evening in our room watching "Alice in Wonderland." Perhaps it wasn't so bad to fail at hitchhiking after all.


In other news, the scary elk have taken their calves and wandered off and, after 2 days of warm sunshine, it is once again snowing. Ahh, Yellowstone.

Parlez vous francais?

Apparently I do.

In an effort to be helpful, which is actually a problem for me (being too helpful), I admitted to the bellhop that, "Je parle un peu de francais." (I speak a little French.) I have suddenly found myself elevated to the status of "the French speaker" at the front desk, the irony being that I really only do speak a little French. I swear the bellhop, Frank, speaks more, but he's not admitting to it. I have only spoken a smattering of French since my 4 years of high school French class: to get hotel rooms and cafe au lait in Paris, rejecting a marriage proposal by a goat farmer from Cote d'Ivoire in Ghana, talking with some French tourists in Costa Rica, and defending the foreign language impaired Americans to an arrogant Frenchman in Costa Rica. C'est tout! (That's all, which, by the way, I said to one guest in an effort to explain that she was checked out.) I am impaired by only remembering present tense and not quite having the entire front desk vocabulary that one would want. ("Are you checking out?" still mystifies me and, "Do you have any pets?" is covered by "Do you have a dog or cat?" (Avez vous un chien ou chat?), as if our French guests have flown from Paris just to treat their dog or cat to the joy of sitting in the car through Yellowstone - I would not recommend bring any pet to Yellowstone as they are prohibited from most of the trails, are not allowed to stay alone at any of the hotels, cabins or campgrounds, and can not be left in a vehicle unattended.) I have learned, however, to ask, "How many keys?" Perhaps I will add "...do you want?" to the end of the question someday (is it "voulez vous?"). I have found that the French are very forgiving, and in fact grateful, to find such a rudimentary French speaker in the heart of the USA, even when telling them that the adorable plush stuffed toy in their room, "Ce n'est pas un gadeaux." (It is not a gift.) Or perhaps this French speaking is an unexpected gift of the front desk after all.

View from our window #2

On Thursday morning, I got up at 5:30 AM, peeked out the window, and left for breakfast at 6 AM. Alex opened the curtains at 7 AM, just before he headed off to breakfast, to find this, a mother elk with her new calf. If only I'd opened the curtains when I left for breakfast, Alex would have seen the birth! They hung around the corner of our building all day, then wandered off in the middle of the night, reappearing for a brief period today.

This mom is actually a terror to the neighborhood, making it a tad difficult and a little scary to leave our building. This baby was born a day after one was born just outside Juniper dorm (we live in Aspen) and the same day another calf was born behind the Quest telephone building. The moms are very protective of their calves, chasing off anything that may appear to be a threat. At one point, the Quest mom had a woman trapped in between cars parked in the employee parking lot. From our front row seat, we've watched this mom chase tourists down the road and antagonize the security guards. (The poor security guards - by 7 AM Thursday morning, we'd already called them twice for elk troubles at two different locations, but there's only one security guard on duty until 8 AM.) We're very careful to chose our path back to our dorm - we have to eat and go to work at some point. Mom seems to be keeping close tabs on all of the dorm doors in that way that moms seem to be everywhere at once, so we have to be flexible and sometimes change directions abruptly, keeping in mind that this is actually one of the safest places in the park for the baby as the wolves and bears don't come into "civilization" that often.

The baby is just now sleeping on the concrete pad behind the metal storage closet, after having inspected the bicycle (see 1st picture). It's odd to think that I am likely the only person in the entire park who knows where that baby is. Mom is peacefully (for a change) eating grass.

A Day of Fire

Has it really been May 28 since I've last written? I'm intending to write 2 blogs a week, unless too much excitement happens and I need to write more. Unfortunately, I have been totally down and out with the big, bad bug I caught. I spent last Tuesday and Wednesday (my "weekend" or days off) in bed alternating between coughing fits and comatose sleeping. Thursday also became a no-work day as I was still coughing so much that guest interaction would have been nearly impossible. I was sorely needed on Friday morning, however, as one of our GSAs (Guest Service Agent) was sent to Lake Hotel to help out during their severe staff shortage, shorting us on staff Friday morning. Armed with cough drops (hopefully none of the Xanterra higher ups read this as we're not supposed to eat anything while at the front desk) to keep from coughing on anyone, I successfully went off to work. It wasn't too bad to be there as I enjoy the work and it's not so challenging to make my illness situation worse. Alex & I returned from dinner to take a 3 hour nap. When I woke up at 9:30 PM, I realized I'd been struck with (I still can't believe it) PINK EYE. Yes, the great red and oozing conjunctivitis. After removing the goo from my right eye lid, I called the front desk to find that Bonnie, one of my mangers, was still there! "No, please don't come into work tomorrow, but go to the doctor," she instructed. Ugh. There is only one place that I could have gotten it, which I'm somewhat reluctant to reveal on the internet, but am going to anyway - the EDR (Employee Dining Room). The food service is done very sanitarily, but everytime we go to sit down, I think of my mom, a Food and Beverage Manager who is very particular about the sanctity of sanitary food service. She would not approve! The tables in the dining room are clean at the start of every 2-3 hour dining period, but then not cleaned until the dining period is over. How many people are fed at the MHS EDR? 200? Likely more on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays when new employees come in as they all at some point pass through the MHS EDR. During the middle of the dining period, it is nearly impossible to find a clean table. "How many people have sat here before me?" I wonder. Alex and I made our best efforts to have him bring food to me so I could keep my highly contagious infection out of the dining room, but anyone taking food out of the EDR is promptly treated as a criminal and likely terminated, so, alas, back I trooped to the EDR, infectious eye and all. "How many people will sit here after me?" My new motto is to not only wash my hands before I eat, but wash them promptly after, too.

So, that brings us to today. Glorious day - the first day of our weekend. The first day of sunshine. The first day to really travel around the park.

We started the day with our usual great effort to drag ourselves out of bed in order to have breakfast before the EDR closed, only to stumble outside to find a great deal of sunshine. Very mysterious sunshine as the forcast for the next 4 days, something every GSA knows, called for showers. After a great debate over do we go for a hike or do we go for a drive, we determined a hike might be a bit much as we are on the healing end of our colds. A shower and packing of jackets, snacks, cameras later, we hit the road, accompanied by Alex's new co-worker from Bulgaria, Marianna. With undetermined plans, we hit the road heading south towards Norris, to promptly run into a "bear jam" in Swan Lake Flats, about 10 minutes south of MHS. We had difficulty spying the bear among the rolling landscape and now grown up sage brush, but finally sighted her in our binoculars. When she meandered behind a short hill, we thought we would go, but then she appeared again, this time with small black heads popping up from the brush around her. Could it be? Count them... one, two, three, yes, this is the fabled grizzly sow with four cubs. We'd been hearing about this family for a couple of weeks, but hadn't yet seen them. Our lucky day. She finally took her brood into the trees, so we continued our journey south, Marianna snapping photos through the truck window all the way. The scenery is indeed beautiful as we passed through meadows greened by the rain with meandering streams or rushing rivers, bordered by the straight lodgepole pines that dominate the Yellowstone landscape.

When we landed in the Old Faithful area, there was a large crowd already gathered in the Old Faithful viewing area, which typically indicates an eruption is nearing. "5 minutes," we were told. And, "20 minutes," came the word 5 minutes later. So, we waited, watched the spray, then headed for lunch at the local EDR. Could it be better? One could hope, but it was actually exactly the same, minus the windows and with some rearranging of the serving arena. From there, we wandered through the Old Faithful Snow Lodge, the newest of the hotels, to marvel at the splice plate connections of the beams in the lobby, then onto the Old Faithful Inn, the 2nd oldest hotel in the park, just to marvel. From there, we decided to take the 2.8 mile walk through the Upper Geyser Basin, from which we watched Old Faithful erupt 2 additional times. Alex and I are 2 for 2 on seeing the Riverside Geyser erupt. Our timing was nearly perfect 6 years ago, the last time we walked through this geyser basin, although we had to wait about 20 minutes for that eruption to start. This time, we strolled up to Morning Glory Pond, took some pictures, and turned around to see Riverside Geyser erupting. We ran back, only to find out that it erupts for 20 minutes, so there was no need to hurry. The mystery of the trip for me was that the colors of some of the pools seemed to have faded since our trip of 6 years ago. Were they just brighter in my memory? Was it all of the rain and cool weather we've been having? The answer came at the Morning Glory Pond, where the brilliance of the blue center and yellow rim have faded to greens and oranges. My memory hadn't tricked me, as the picture on the plaque beside the pool still proclaimed the bright spectrum of colors of the super hot waters. The pool is cooling, in some part due to natural causes, but mostly because all of the trash thrown into it by the millions of visitors each year is plugging the circulation of the heated water and allowing the pool to cool, causing the thermophiles that live in the pool to change from the blue species to the cooler water colors. There is also a picture of 2 men with a super vac, like the kind used to clean out porta-potties, vacuuming the trash out of the pool, but I guess there is only so much they can do.

Finally, we wandered back to the truck after Marianna bought us ice cream (frozen yogurt for me), and made it back to MHS sunburned and just barely in time for dinner at our home base EDR.

Would you like to buy a shower?

T, our trainer for 2 weeks in the antiquated reservation computer system and the ins and outs of YNP, warned us that there would come a time when tourists would somehow recognize that "we belong here" and ask us for information, even when we are incognito in T-shirts and hiking gear. I think there is something about working at the front desk that accelerates this phenomenon. We seem to be the all knowing venue for information, although I would contest that the Park Rangers are far superior in their all knowingness. Perhaps they don't know the details about the cabins and rooms at the hotel, but they do have a brochure at the Visitor's Center (VC, for all you native YNPers).

So, I am now in the position that I am easily recognized as an inhabitant instead of just a visitor. It's happened to me twice this week. First, I was crossing the street from the post office back to the dorm and ran across two gentlemen looking at our dorm, seemingly confused. "Is that Fort Yellowstone?" they asked. Our dorm is a bit shabby looking, but it is definitely in a 1960's style of construction, so I got them turned around facing the other direction and pointed out the real Fort Yellowstone. In my best travel agent persona, I explained about the self-guided walk, including brochure for 50 cents, and sent them on their tour. Warranted, there was no-one else around them as they were in the middle of the road, so I guess in this instance, I seemed a likely character to ask for directions.

However, this morning, there were plenty of people around when a car pulled up alongside me and a woman, looking like she really wanted to wash her hair, asked if there were public showers. For those of you not in the know, yes, you can actually buy a shower, which we sell at the front desk of the hotel. In case you're wondering, it's usually pretty easy to tell who wants to buy a shower vs people who are checking into the hotel. I pointed out the door to go in and she drove off to find a parking space. Of all the people walking back from breakfast, how in the world did this lady pick the one person who actually works at the hotel and knew exactly what she was looking for? I seem to be the cash magnet at work, although C. has surpassed my one-day high intake, so I'll have to let them know that I sold a shower even while I wasn't at work.

I seem to be verbose today, but it's time to go to my evening shift (2:30 - 10:30 PM), so I will leave you with some words from the Julie/Julia Project, which I have just begun to read:
"When you're crazy, old and worn out, you're just crazy, old and worn out."

Welcome to the Petri Dish

Are you ever in one of those situations where you feel like you are a bug in a petri dish being subjected to various viruses and infections, tested for survival of the fittest? I think school teachers fall into this category, as well as Xanterra employees working at the National Parks. Since we are working in different departments, Alex and I can watch the various flues enter the department, get passed from one employee to another, then transfer to another department. Our dorm living and communal dining in the Employee Dining Room (EDR) mean there's no avoiding exposure. With worldwide travellers passing through the park, hotels, and dining facilities, we have no idea where these bugs are coming from. Do we pass them onto the guests? Let's hope, "no."

So far, Alex and I have managed to catch one of 2 colds travelling around (maybe both, at this point). We have skirted around the pink eye, although this seems to be sticking mainly to the 20-somethings. I may have solved this mystery while travelling back from a brief excursion to Bozeman, MT with a car full of 20 to 22 year olds. M said to N, "My right eye itches (scratch, scratch, rub, rub). I hope I'm not getting the crud! Can I use your eye drops?" To which I said, "No!" perhaps a bit too emphatically. Realizing that I am, in fact, old enough to be the mother of a 2o year old, I thought I'd better share the knowledge that sharing eye drops is a good way to share conjunctivitis. Ah, youth. :-)

So, what do we do? We work, we sleep, we spend long meals in the EDR, drinking hot tea. We try to avoid the crud. We have no TV and none of the extracurricular activities of our regular life in the Real World that keep us so busy all of the time, so really, we sleep. I'm hoping when the weather improves, it will dry out all of the bugs and we can get on with what we came here to do (hiking, wildlife watching). Meanwhile, we're still waiting for the elk to calve. For the past 2 weeks, we've been told it will be any day now.

Alex has some good stories from work and bear watching. I'm trying to get him to write for the blog, so maybe you'll see a new writer soon! Any encouragement you can send him is welcome.

LIfe at the Front Desk

It is once again snowing here in YNP. The road between Tower-Roosevelt and Canyon opened yesterday morning only to be closed yesterday night due to snow. With a peak elevation of 8878 feet, Dunraven Pass causes this road to be closed frequently due to weather.

Work at the Front Desk of the Mammoth Hot Springs Hotel is busy, busy. We've been checking in over 100 people a day, and checking that many out again in the morning. It keeps us on our toes. We are definitely the go-to people - if guests have questions, problems, or if they've just seen a lot of wildlife and wants to share the experience, they come to us. The most thrilling is when a guest has seen something fantastic and comes to share with us. The most common question was 2 evenings ago when many guests were wondering how to turn their heat on as there was a problem with the main heating system and maintenance had to spend some time working on it. This will soon be followed up by, "Where can I park?" as parking is limited and is shared by hotel/cabin guests and day visitors to the park. I think the funniest thing that happens frequently is when we ask, as required, every guest if they have any pets with them. About 50 percent of the time, one spouse turns to the other and says, "Just him/her." Or, if they have children with them, they ususally say, "Just my children." Will that joke get old 4 months from now? I feel fortunate that we seem to have a group of people that work together at the front desk. We all forget things and we all help each other out. And if we have a moment to spare, we make each other laugh.

The bike ride

What have I been doing lately? I've been sleeping! Actually, I've been working and sleeping. Due to the start up of the hotel, I had one day off last week, plus I am adjusting to the new schedule that includes some late nights and some early mornings. Plus, there's a bug going around. I have it, but I've been managing to keep it at bay with regular doses of Vitamin C. Then, there's also the bike ride....

D, whom I work with, and I both had Monday off, so we decided that it was a good idea to take Alex's and my bike for a ride into Gardiner on the Old Gardiner Road. Gardiner is 5 miles north of Mammoth Hot Springs, at the north entrance to the park, but 925 feet lower in elevation. (Having just looked this fact up, I wonder if I would have changed my mind if I had known it ahead of time.) According to a plaque on the Fort Yellowstone walking tour, the enlisted soldiers who protected the park prior to the founding of the National Park Service would occasionally take the walk down to Gardiner to partake of libations and prostitutes. The 5 mile walk back the morning after was the harsh punishment for their sins. I was forewarned!

The ride down to Gardiner was beautiful. We started off with rolling hills, but I noticed about 1/2 through the ride that the hills were no longer rolling and we were on a continual coast downhill, I relying heavily on my brakes, foreshadowing the journey back. We paused to take in the view of Gardiner, realizing that we were closing in on our destination. Serenity Salon & Tanning, about the only hair salon that I have ever seen open on a Monday, amazingly had room for us just after we arrived in town. An hour later, both of us shorn of our too long locks, we decided it was best if we didn't hang around town, but headed right back.

We pedaled our way through town, passed through the entrance gate (thankfully, we had both thought to bring our work IDs as it would have cost us $12 to get back into the park), and hit the dirt road. Less than 5 minutes later, we both came to a stop. "Let's walk for a while," we agreed. I had been concerned that D. was in much better shape than I and I would be walking back alone as he pedaled on ahead, but I was in luck - we are equally not in shape for a 5 mile walk up hill. So, we walked, and walked, and walked some more. At some point, we realized the we would not be needing our helmets for a while and took them off. Occasionally, we would come to a flatter area or a short downhill and hop back on our bikes for a brief ride. D. went ahead on the downhills as I have a fear of hitting a rock and careening headlong over my handle bars. I've come to suspect it's from some childhood accident, but now I can't remember if I was the one who tumbled over the handlebars of our little red Schwinn onto the black pavement of Fox Run Road, or if I witnessed my brother in this traumatic incident. Each time D. started up the next hill, I was struck with the thought that, this time, he was going to keep going and I would be walking without him. But, alas, he would stop, and we would continue our conversation. Fortunately, D. is a great conversationalist, so we actually talked and enjoyed the scenery the entire 5 miles back to MHS and the time passed rather quickly. We met the husband of one of our managers near the top who gave us encouragement and informed us that most bikers walk their bike back up - or they're riding so slowly that he is able to pass them on his evening 4 mile out and back walk on the same road.

Finally, we made it, grateful to meet Alex on the last downhill to our dorm, who helped us lock up the bikes as we were too tired to lift the bikes back into the trailer. We even had time to wash the dust of the road off before heading for dinner.

Working life

Today is the big day - the Mammoth Hot Springs Hotel opens for the season. Alex has been working for the past 2 weeks while I have been in training. Today is the day all the training comes to fruition. I will be at work in 1/2 hour in my tidy polyester maroon and black uniform, my new nametag reading "Amy Oregon" clipped to my collar, and ready to help check in the 100 anticipated guests for opening day. One of Alex's co-workers at the Terrace Grill thoughtfully reminded him that the 100 guests at the hotel will at some point be hungry, meaning his shift today will also likely be busy.

One fun thing for us is the "shakedown" the day before opening of certain venues. Last night was the dining room shakedown, so all employees were invited to the rehearsal dinner in preparation for dinner tonight. I had the seared ahi tuna and would highly recommend it. Alex had the chicken with brie cheese and huckleberry sauce. Our table mates tried out the bison steak and the shrimp pasta with whiskey cream sauce. Yum! We saw only one tray dumped the entire night, fortunately only containing drinks and the bread basket. I also got to go on a "Yellowstone in a Day" bus tour and will go to the Roosevelt Old West Cookout next month, unfortunately, sans spouse.

Reason #3 to change your path

If, while walking on a wooded trail, you see a mama bear and her 2 cubs next to the trail, you might want to

turn around. Alex and I decided to try the portion of the Howard Eaton trail that is near the Hot Springs Terraces. We were doing an impressive job making our way uphill, with me doing lots of talking as we were told to do to notify bears of your presence, when Alex heard scratching noises. What could that be? He spotted 2 black bear cubs climbing a tree about 250 feet away from our trail. We looked down the slope to see mama bear looking back up at us. My incessant talking had notified her. She was laying down and, thankfully, didn't seem to see a need to get up. The rule of the park is to stay 100 yards, or 50 feet more than we were, away from bears. Since I had just heard yesterday that black bears are more aggressive than grizzlies, I was a little nervous. Unfortunately for us, the trail curved closer to the bears before it turned away from them, so we chose the safer path of retreating back from where we had come, despite having such an enjoyable time walking uphill.

Back down the way we came towards the entrance to the Beaver Ponds Trail. As we were heading towards the main road, Alex pointed out a black object next to a tree that we had passed on the way up. "Ha! I thought that was a bear," he said. A little closer...it is a bear! Another black bear, bigger than mama up the hill, and much closer. What do we do? Which way do we go? We realized we must have passed this bear on the way up, but not realizing it due to the slope of the hill and his position by the tree. He was lounging and heard us approach, but could barely be bothered to lift his head to look at us. We had big decisions ahead of us. Behind us was mama and her cubs or a 2 hour loop hike to get out. Waiting wasn't an option as we were in a canyon standing in the direction the bear was likely to head when he finished his rest. We tried going off the trail to get further away from him, but that put us in tall grasses against a cliff and out of his vision, making us unknown prey instead of a known entity. Finally, we decided we had no choice but to march bravely down the trail. I asked Alex to sing his personal prayer song and I stayed right on his heals as we walked within 50 feet of him. We counted the creek and gully between us as a plus on our side, but I wasn't convinced he would really be slowed down should he decide to pounce. I managed to take a couple of pictures on our way past as the bear seemed really calm about our passing (I'm sure he liked Alex's singing), but, in my anxiety, I forgot to zoom, so they're not so great. We brought a few friends back to see him - he was browsing through the grass at this point - but made sure to stay safely well out of his way.

After all of this excitement, we went back to our dorm room and voted, thanks to our Oregon Vote by Mail ballot arriving in the General Delivery-MHS box today.