picnic baskets

yosemite is half dome and yellowstone is yogi bear.

i am dyslexic when it comes to remembering the differences between yellowstone and yosemite. despite having been to yosemite, long ago, in a past life, my mind still couldn't separate the two. the addition of that fictional jellystone park with its picnic baskets and baby bears confused me even more. i decided that the only way to remedy this situation was to actually witness the other park with my own two eyes. check out that old faithful thing, see some real bears and enjoy the cheap showiness of nature.

it turns out that early may is a slow time for yellowstone. it's too late for the winter season and it's not quite warm enough for summer. it rests right in the middle of the quiet, cold limbo of tourism. i had assumed that the lack of people in the grand tetons may have been because the tetons are doomed to be the bastard stepchild of america’s treasure of yellowstone, but as it turns out, yellowstone park was just as silent as the tetons. i drove in complete solitude through the park and stopped occasionally at the wonderment of these "seasons" that i found myself motoring through. near the summit of the park, i screeched to a halt and leapt out of my car to gaze incredulously on the frozen lake by the side of the road. looking at the expanse of ice before me, i was startled to realize that i had never seen a frozen lake ever before in my life. I’ve only read about them in books and seen them in movies. what a twisted view of reality I must have.

yellowstone itself is like stepping onto another planet. the geothermal angst of the earth's core bustles itself up to the surface with the drama of a high school beauty queen, leaving intense colors and pockmarked earth pimples in its wake. the regularly scheduled orgasms erupt as steaming water jettisons out for minutes at a time, making the ground shake while midwesterners and foreigners gape at the enormity of it all.

the only campground that was open during my visit was madison, located near the west entrance of the park. the sky was dirty white and every time i stopped at a vista point, the hybrid electric motor would shut itself off and i was left in the outdoor silence of the forest. baby animals, standing next to their moms, stare at me. having not been exposed to too many humans yet, they haven't reached the level of discomfort with people that they would surely get to learn. as i checked into madison's camping area, the ranger points me to my campsite, hands me a flyer that warns me about not taunting the animals and she then sells me a box of firewood. i pitch my tent as a baby bison walks casually across the road.

a kid who just graduated from nyu in organic chemistry invited himself over to my campsite, and it seemed like a good idea to gauge whether he was psycho or not, so i made small talk with him. it turns out that he wasn't psycho, but for some reason he thought that i needed company while i slept. i declined his offer with the same sort of response i would give to the waiter that had asked if i wanted pepper on my salad. "uhh... no! thanks... though... i'm fine..."

the next day, i zipped around yellowstone in near solitude, except for the other occasional tourist who was willing to brave the cold for a small hike to see geysers. there's something very cool about listening to the earth make its gurgling little fits and starts. a small group of people gathered around old faithful at the appointed time and waited anxiously, many making annoyed coments about how bored they were, waiting for the show. i found it humorous that these people demanded that even nature be on time, when they themselves undoubtedly ran five or ten minutes late to their dentist appointments or dinner dates. they stood there, with their video cameras all gazing at the hole. although i brought my video camera with me, i found it hard to bust it out - if i was going to see old faithful only once in my life, i wanted to really watch it and get a sense of scale. when i can body mount a camera on me, like one of neal stephenson's gargoyles, i'll be better prepared to record these momentous occasions.

how could i not love yellowstone? with the bison, elk, deer, and nicknames for all manner of geological activity, like the steaming fumaroles and painted mud pots, words that sounded like they were put together in a roald dahl book.

as far as this section of planet earth is concerned, i'm completely enamored.

<05.10.04>

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