SHIMMERING SHOSHONE

In the dawning light, I hear the coots in the lake below our campsite. Although Brother Sun has not yet breeched our forested campsite, I can tell the sky is clear and the morning holds much promise. I wriggle out of my warm sleeping bag and into my clothes. I am 10 miles in from the road at a backcountry campsite on one of Yellowstone’s most beautiful mountain lakes. The night before, cradled in the warmth of my sleeping bag, I heard elk bugling.  Shoshone shimmers below. This morning is perfect.

I grab my sleeping pad and head down to the shoreline. As I approach the beach, I hear the slap of paddles on the smooth, mirror-like water. A kayak comes into view with one lone paddler. The paddler greets me with “Beautiful morning.” I am in complete agreement.

Two nights before, I left Mammoth to meet Tucson friends at Madison Campground, near the road to Yellowstone’s West Entrance. Yesterday, we drove to the Lone Star Geyser trailhead for our trek in. Lone Star Geyser sits all by itself in a thermal field with steam vents and mudpots and hot springs down an old service road long since closed to vehicles. Patches of the pavement have deteriorated into rubble but the hiking is gentle. The five of us will hike ten miles today to camp on a quiet, solitary hill above the beautiful shimmering Shoshone for the next two nights.

At present we are focused on Lone Star.  Will we make it to the geyser in time for one of its famous eruptions? Lone Star goes off every three hours (approximately as punctuality is not a geyser’s strong suit). We have two chances to see the eruption; we will be returning this way. As we approach the basin, we see other geyser gazers waiting with cameras ready. We have made it at a perfect time. Lone Star is steaming and pressure is building under the surface.

While we wait for the eruption, we meet our fellow watchers. There is a local guide with a couple from Indiana and another couple from Australia. There is a younger couple and two older gentlemen. While we wait, the guide tells me about the wonders we will witness. We are all excited like little children. Not as flashy as old Faithfull, Lone Star is always a more private affair since watchers have to leave their cars and walk nearly eight miles round trip to experience its splendor. Its watchers are a more elite group – those willing to meet Yellowstone where Yellowstone shows best – a long way from the road.

Super-heated water and steam begin shooting out of the geyser as we stand entranced. It is a bit unnerving to know that right underneath us the Earth is a tumultuous cauldron. But on the surface, the geyser erupts and steams surrounded by a forest of stately lodgepole pine as far as the eye can see. Lone Star’s eruption continues for about 15 minutes as we take our requisite pictures and walk around it, trying to see the geyser from all its faces.

After the tower of water is finished, the steam takes over shooting nearly as high as the water. Then Mother Nature’s show is over and the rocket-like noise diminishes. It is mid-morning and under a spectacular blue sky, we don our packs and begin making our way along a narrow trail into the forest.  We have another six miles to go before we rest our heads. Not one of us has been down this trail before but we are all veteran hikers and only one of us is new to backpacking. This is the stuff we put our boots on for.

The trail takes us through another smaller thermal area with the smell of sulphur strong in our nostrils. Further into the backcountry, we meet a happy and relaxed couple from Florida who have been backpacking around Shoshone for a week. They suggest we take a detour around the large bull bison sleeping on the trail just ahead of us.

Alerted, we keep our eyes forward on the trail. Near the last campsite along this portion of the Shoshone Lake Trail, the bison lays in a sunny patch on the forested path. After we take pictures of our ‘road hazard’, we make our way around the bison, bushwhacking through the forest and meadow until we meet back up with our trail. An active geyser and a napping bison. Not a bad start for the day.

The trail is fairly flat for the most part except for a relatively short hilly bit where we gain another 250 feet of elevation crossing the Continental Divide at Grants Pass.  With heavy packs, we are happy to be done with the incline and look forward to the next trail junction with Bechler River Trail just ahead. Our path leads us past this junction, where we finally meet sweet, clear Shoshone Creek, which portends the beauty of the lake that bears its name. We follow the Creek, making several rock-hopping, heart-stopping water crossings.

A little over six hours after leaving our cars, we get to our final junction with North Shoshone Lake Trail and the spur to our campsite. We are very, very tired but very, very pleased with the spectacular view from our hill above the Lake. I can’t decide if my breathlessness is due to exertion or reaction to uncommon beauty. We immediately make ourselves at home so we can explore our surroundings.

Our campsite has its own trails down to the shoreline. A few ‘hand-propelled’ watercraft float around the lake – canoes, kayaks and even one sailboat of some type. But we feel quite alone, quite remote from our fellow solitude seekers out on the Lake. The Lake is over 8,000 acres and is vaguely shaped like a mallet, with our campsite being at the base of the handle. Even the ‘handle’ is huge and knowing what we see is only half the Lake is humbling.

To our right we see the steam of the Shoshone Geyser Basin, which we will visit in the morning. We all visit the shore, with some of us entering the cold, clear water. We also see a bright orange sign of some type on the opposite shore of our cove that we conclude signals the location of the landing beach for craft visiting the Geyser Basin. Having trekked 10 miles in, the next morning will be soon enough for us to explore further and we are early to bed after a backcountry dinner mostly from foil pouches.

I sleep deeply, as I usually do in the arms of the Mother. Dawn creeps across the unperturbed mirror-like surface of the Lake and I hear the Lake calling my name as I make my way down to the shore to enjoy a private yoga practice and meditation for nearly an hour. My fellow backpackers are respectful of my Sunday meditations and very quiet as they individually make their ways down to say good morning to the Lake. It is not difficult to decide a meditation mantra this morning. “I know Your greatness; I feel Your love” fills my mind and soul and heart. Even my monkey mind is briefly quiet this morning. Finally, I pull myself out of my meditation and join the others for breakfast before we hike over to the geyser basin.

The Shoshone Geyser Basin is surprisingly active with no less than four geysers named on the National Geographic Old Faithful quadrant map I have brought along. Its geysers, mudpots, hot springs and steam vents flow into and around Shoshone Creek, leaving copper, yellow, green, and orange algae trails on the banks. One particular geyser is very close to the footpath and erupts about every minute. Quick, powerful. We make jokes about its quick eruptions and give it credit for its rapid recovery. Four of us are women; we all chuckle at the double entendre.

The feeling of space and solitude is palpable. This side of Shoshone is remote, although not hard to get to if you are willing to hike 10 miles or pull your boat over 2.5 miles of shallow water in the channel between Lewis and Shoshone Lakes. Our presence announces our willingness to experience this remote space in any way Mother Nature offers.

Max, often my partner in my adventures, and I splash into the Creek to find a hot spot in which to sit and soak our tired muscles.  The others – Gloria, Nikki and Bev – choose to sit in the shade on the shore. It is a glorious day, made perfect by the companionship of people who crave being in remote places on glorious days doing nothing at all but enjoying the smorgasbord Mother Nature has prepared for us.

We return via the beach marked by the orange plate. It is indeed the beach at which boats are secured while their paddlers enjoy the Geyser Basin. We converse with three men, a son and father and uncle. They, too, remark on the perfectness of Shoshone and how it has drawn them back again and again. We all share the joy of seeing a grizzly mom with her three cubs – far enough away to enjoy the moment.

That night, back at camp, we Feast, a tradition among backpackers who want to reduce their loads on the way back to their vehicles. Everything we can eat, we do except for the food we will eat the next day. As the night creeps into the forest, we head to our tiny tent homes, knowing we shall be leaving the serenity of Shoshone in just a few hours.

The hike out seems much shorter than the hike in. Perhaps it is because we have climbed up to a higher elevation and now descend instead of ascend. It is also possible that every moment takes us further away from the serenity of Shoshone and the time seems too short for those who would linger in its silence and beauty. We promise the Lake we will be back, repeating the decisions of nearly all others we met during our visit to Shoshone.

The peace, solitude and tranquility of Shoshone leave us longing for more. Max and I are already hatching plans to bring a larger group up to paddle our way from Lewis Lake to Shoshone along the passage. Shoshone is a place where we can experience being part of something much greater than any one of us. Shoshone is a place people come time and time again. Even though we are visitors here, Shoshone has welcomed us with warmth and has promised to welcome us again at our next coming. And come again we will to shimmering Shoshone.