SIDETRACKED!

A journey is a great metaphor for life. Sometimes you follow the map and sometimes you don’t. Sometimes life keeps to the plans you make and sometimes – well sometimes you get sidetracked. I’m finding that I get sidetracked in Yellowstone a lot.

My life is not exactly a well-designed and executed plan but rather a messy soap opera in which I star as the main character.  My week began just peachy. My friend Suzie and her two Adorables came for a visit. I’m sort of the Adorables’ Auntie being as Suzie doesn’t have a sister. Helga and Sid (not their real names – they are just littlies and their adoption is not yet finalized) but particularly Sid spent some time identifying scat which he got scarily good at for a 6-year-old. Probably because I sent him a book on scat called “Who Pooped in the Park”. There was an abundance of research material for him in the Park. Pretty much every step we took was applied to researching the sticky brown stuff clinging to our feet.

After they left, I made a plan to get my chores done so I could spend the weekend hiking at least one more high-elevation trail to get ready for my Grand Teton 5-day backpack.  I’m writing this in an inexpensive Idaho Falls Idaho motel that seems alright despite its very low price and relatively low ratings on Trip Advisor. You see, I got sidetracked.

On Wednesday I got a text from my bank. “If you purchased $1000 of computer equipment from a store in Johannesburg South Africa, press 1. If not, press 2.” Since I had not been drinking the night before and I clearly remembered being in the Park, I pressed 2. Immediately, another text announced “A representative of (my bank) will be calling you within the next twenty minutes. An attempt to use your card for a fraudulent purchase has occurred.” I’d say so since I’m pretty sure I have not yet mastered being in two places at once.

The next two days really did convince me that my bank has probably one of the best credit and consumer fraud departments in the world of banking. Someone had been able to gather enough information about me to pass through their first level of security and actually transfer money from my savings to my checking account apparently intending to set it up for a nice little spending spree. And then they went shopping.  The first transaction, however, did not meet the scrutiny applied by my bank. Freeze. They'd let money in but no money out.

After many discussions with various bank personnel, I decided to ‘restrict’ my accounts which meant nothing could happen in those accounts until I appear at the nearest bank branch with two pieces of ID. We also decided that while I was taking the trouble to do that I might as well close the suspected accounts and open brand new ones.

Ok, here’s the sidetracked part. Remember the weekend hiking plans? My nearest branch is over 100 miles away in Idaho Falls, Idaho. So hiking stepped aside for a ROAD TRIP! Road Trips are my second favorite pastime so whenever I am faced with situations that require me to drive many miles, I am absolutely driven (pun intended) to make it a Road Trip (Road Trips in our family are always capitalized).

Haas Road Trip Rule #1 - never go over the same road twice if you can find another way – no matter how treacherous. I’ve been to and through Idaho Falls many times over the last several years because it is on the way to Missoula where my son attended college. I have exercised Rule #1 on more than one occasion so the only new road I could find went west from Jackson over Teton Pass. Hmmmm….Pass. I like the sound of that.

Jackson is not exactly easy to get to from Mammoth. Mapquest says it is 3 hours 18 minutes but acknowledges it could take longer (“depending on traffic”). If you figure in RVs, bear and bison backups and those special photos you just have to stop and take even though you have at least a hundred from that exact same spot but not exactly with that same light it will take longer, I guarantee. So I left Mammoth before 4:30pm and didn’t get to Jackson until nearly 9.

The sun was setting over the Tetons. Superb sunset but driving through the Caribou-Targhee National Forest is a little spooky at dusk.  In the first place, I was keenly aware that at any time a smaller version of Bigfoot could come running across the road in front of my truck. In the second place, have you ever been in a heavily forested place with really steep sides resulting in 10% grades that makes you feel you are in a very verdant cow chute? Plus I could see and smell campfire smoke but couldn’t see any campers. (Cue in song from Deliverance.)

The road up to the Pass winds up and up and up past Mount Glory as roads to Passes usually do. Then it winds even further back down. Jackson is at a higher elevation than Victor, the ranching town on the other side of the Pass that tries to compete for tourists. After leaving Victor, which is cute in an always the bridesmaid kind of way, you have the opportunity to really get spooky going up and over another forested pass past Rocky Peak and Stouts Mountain, on a road that is not nearly as well developed (as in the signs for campgrounds look like signs Chuckie might have made to lure you in) as the way more traveled Teton Pass road. Ok, I agree that’s extreme. I like my delightful, day lit forests please when I am driving all by myself through unfamiliar territory. (You ask, “Why don’t you take the safe, more heavily traveled way around?” I say “Gosh that never occurred to me.”)

The road over the second range of mountains does not encourage one to think that very many people use the road. It is not well-maintained. No problem, really. YiHa likes untamed roads. But I keep thinking how the chance of cell service is zilch and I may have to make acquaintance with those people who undoubtedly are down there starting those campfires. Good thing I believe in the essential goodness of people – and good locks on my truck.

To be fair, every time you get out of the forest, the terrain opens out into those incredibly beautiful Idaho valleys with productive fields and ranchland stretching over hills that have all the promise of a pregnant woman’s belly. Stunning. I think. I’m pretty sure. It was pretty dark by then.

So sidetracked as I am, I intend to make a weekend of it. (Here, I’ll help you - the subject of this post is getting sidetracked.)  I will meet with my new banker (interesting to have a ‘home bank’ in Idaho, a state I have never lived in) in the morning. The bank is right across from an honest to goodness air-conditioned Mall with a Dillards AND a Macys. Helga (remember the Adorables?) told me that I have holes in the butt of hiking trousers I brought with me to Yellowstone thinking they could double as work trousers. Yeah, well, you try scooting down rocky bits on the trails without making holes in YOUR pants. I need some new pants I can wear to work without giving my coworkers heart attacks. How convenient the bank is right across from a real mall where I just might be able to also get some real coffee instead of Nescafe (I’m not kidding – that’s what they serve in the Employee Dining Room.)

Then on to more roads never taken. I’ve decided, time allowing, I’ll visit Ennis – just because I kind of like its name. Ennis is in Montana sort of on the way to Bozeman where I’m supposed to meet up with my nephew and niece mid-afternoon. It’s on a road I’ve never taken so it meets Road Trip Rule #1.  Thank god my nephew likes his microbrews. I’ll be ready for one by then and Boze has some really good microbreweries.

The long and the short of it? Getting sidetracked doesn’t have to mean getting stopped.  It just means your plans have to change so you might as well make the best of it. And really, don’t the writers of soaps always try to throw a curve ball into every episode?

 

 

 

 

 

GETTING LOST IN WONDERLAND

Sometimes I feel a little like Alice. Actually sometimes I feel a LOT like Alice. To get anywhere in Yellowstone means driving a long time even though the distance is not at all long. But all along the way magical beasts and mysterious scenery disrupt your journey. And the typical road hazards move from place to place.

A friend from home visited the last few days. She talked about how hard it was to remember exactly where the Artist’s Paintpots are (was that north or south of Norris Geyser Basin?) or whether the road to West Yellowstone was closer to Old Faithful or to Mammoth. I can relate. I’ve been here nearly three months and I still carry around my National Geographic map of the Park. Even when I’m on foot, I find my mind wandering from the task of finding the next trail junction.

Last weekend I hiked up Bunsen Peak and the week before that Mount Washburn. Both are ‘moderate’ hikes but not because of length or faintness of the trail. Mount Washburn Trail actually follows an old service road most of which has crumbled to reveal the dirt track underneath the old asphalt.  Bunsen Peak Trail is a wide, well-traveled trail that winds through inviting stands of forest before climbing above tree line. They both have alternate routes down that you might miss if all you are doing at the top is ‘lollygagging’ to use a Mom word.

Even seasoned hikers might find themselves huffing and puffing to the top of the peaks in Yellowstone. It’s not unlikely you will be hiking over 10,000 feet. The central difficulty of Bunsen and Mount Washburn is elevation gain – a little over 1300 feet in 2.1 miles for Bensen and about the same in 3.6 miles for Washburn - all while being exposed to one more incredibly gorgeous viewpoint after another. Already out of breath from the elevation gain, you find yourself gasping for breath at the scenery. Then you make the fatal step of stopping for breath at some breathtaking viewpoint, your eyes drawn to the purple mountains to the south instead of the landmarks along the trails. And it’s easy to miss the trail markers for the alternate way down when you are gazing way beyond them.

Back in Tucson, where I have lived for a long time, I find my way around town by the landmarks that become imbedded in my driving brain.  My favorite cool spot for dining outside is behind and a little to the east of the Art Museum Downtown. The entrance to my doctor’s parking lot is just one median break up from the big corner shopping center. I can get to my familiar places without even switching on my directional brain. Everywhere I go there are always memorable landmarks – the roses painted on the florist’s west wall, the Taco Bell across from the puke green sign announcing my body shop. Whether by foot or car, in the city, it’s easy to get somewhere without even thinking about your destination or remembering an address. Your landmarks lead you right there.

Now imagine yourself in a beautiful place where your eyes are constantly drawn to the next beautiful place. Or where you are distracted by the smoke from and the smell of geysers, missing the small road sign directing you to the spot you are seeking. Or your eye catches animal movement in the forest and you stop for awhile – long enough to forget whether you are north or south of that road sign. Or, if you have pulled off the road in one of the countless pull-offs, even which direction you were going. It’s really hard to remember landmarks when your first thought is NOT “one block past the church” but more like “a couple switchbacks up the mountain where you get that great view of Blacktail Deer Plateau” or “that valley the bears like to hang out in.” Your landmarks become marked by your adventures. And those adventures can change according to the whim of the wildlife and Mother Nature.

I’ve given up trying to use my usual excellent directional skills in Yellowstone. I’ve learned not to believe Mapquest’s time estimates because people just love to stop and watch the bison – or the bear – or the elk – or the eagles. It may only be 6 miles from Mammoth to Gardiner but it could take as long as 40 minutes or even more if the roads are washed out because of the runoff or if the mountain goats are entertaining the crowds from their perch above the road. I’ve given up trying to describe how to get somewhere and how long it will take except to say “well you start by going that direction”. After those simple instructions, anything can happen. At least it is happening in one of the most interesting and beautiful places on Earth.

When you come to Yellowstone – and you SHOULD come to Yellowstone – don’t skimp on your map. Get a good one like the National Geographic Trails Illustrated either for the whole Park or for the different Park areas. You can use Mapquest if you want to know how many miles it is from Madison Junction to Old Faithful but don’t divide the miles by the miles per hour. You’ll be constantly frustrated. Set your watch on rural time or better yet don’t set it at all.. Kick back and expect the unexpected. Hope for the astonishing; it can happen. And DO concentrate on the scenery instead of the landmarks. Here, the landmarks can change. What doesn’t change is the constant variety of magical moments you can experience if you just relax and enjoy the view.

MY NIGHTLY WILDLIFE MOVIE

Often early in the morning and late at night I hear the mama elk call for their calves. They have quite a few vocalizations but one particular sound, somewhere between a bark and a squeal, signals Mama is looking for Junior. I hear that sound and I am suddenly very aware that I am in Yellowstone National Park.

One of my favorite pastimes here in Yellowstone is watching the interactions among the elk, the Rangers and the public. I usually watch this activity right out of my second-story dorm window in the late evening when cars park perpendicular to the curb in long lines just like in a drive-in movie right in front of the lawn the elk like to browse at night.

The elk dine on the irrigated lush green lawn on the other side of the street and then head for the protection of the adjacent sage flat for more camouflage for the night. The public just loves to snap away at this tranquil scene – Mama Elk browsing, Baby Elk nursing with a stunning background of mountains.

Elk are very protected creatures here in Mammoth, as are all living creatures in the Park. When a cow is ready to give birth, she usually isolates herself.  At Mammoth, cows like the relative safety of areas adjacent to the Hotel, the dorms or the guest cabins because they instinctively know their calves are protected there against their main predators – bear, coyote and wolf. The elk benefit from the Rangers’ mandate to protect not only the elk but also the bear, coyote and wolf – and of course the public - by chasing them away from very public areas.

Once a calf is a few days old and can trot beside Mum, the elk will often move over to the sage flats where she can stash her defenseless baby as she forages. The calf’s spotted coat acts as camouflage and its natural instinct to remain completely still keeps it safe from predators. After the calves grow a bit, the female elk recombine into a small herd. The lawn across from my window, the elk’s favorite browse in the evening, provides a great drive-in nature movie for the tourists.

The other night, the evening light was perfect and the elk were being particularly film-worthy. Mamas were browsing up and down the lawn; the light brown calves were quietly lying together in a rough circle. One young calf (male I’m just sure) was springing around his mates trying to entice them to play. He would spring right in front of one of his mates, nudge his buddy with his nose but to no avail. The curled up calves were having none of it.

A junior male (I had not seen him before) with velvet on his still fairly unimpressive rack kept straying quite close to the stupid tourists who were out of their cars and on the lawn, having decided they needed to film closer to the herd. I think Junior knew he was responsible for doing something to protect the herd but he clearly just didn’t know what or how to do it. But he was very, very anxious.

No matter how unimpressive his rack, his presence was definitely a danger to the tourists. The female elk, although not as dangerous as just after giving birth, were also a concern. The Rangers’ mandate to protect the animals includes trying to keep us humans from disturbing their natural behaviors. A Ranger told me a good rule of thumb is you are too close if your presence changes the animal’s behavior.  An ear twitch, a lifted head – these small signs mean they have detected your presence. In other words, back off buddy.

That night, the Ranger was really earning his keep, patrolling up and down the line of cars, directing people back to their cars or at least further away from the herd. As the bull became more agitated, so did the Ranger. The junior bull prowled the line of cars looking for a fight. The Ranger took off his orange safety vest and flipped it at Junior in an attempt to move Junior away from the cars and tourists and back into the herd. Junior looked at him as if to say “Really? This is my JOB…I’m pretty sure.” The Ranger and Junior both held their battle positions for a good while.

Some of the tourists took the hint and moved back into their cars – or they used the open doors of their cars as shields against attack. It reminded me of a scene from Toro! Toro! Sometimes I wish I could be more compassionate toward the tourists, but really, can’t they READ? Signs all over the place alert them to the dangers of getting too close to the wildlife. W I L D  L I F E.

Regardless of their inherent danger to the public, all animals and even the fish in Yellowstone are protected by law. Not by the Endangered Species Act although one species in the Park, the Grey Wolf, is listed as endangered. In 1894, a full 22 years after the Park’s creation, Congress passed the Yellowstone Game Protection Act, declaring “That all hunting, or the killing, wounding, or capturing at any time of any bird or wild animal, except dangerous animals, when it is necessary to prevent them from destroying human life or inflicting an injury, is prohibited within the limits of said park….”

And so we have bears and wolves and elk and moose and 63 other species of mammals as well as 16 species of fish, 6 species of reptile and 4 species of amphibians (Yellowstone NP website) here in the Jewel of the Crown of our Park system. And no matter how incredibly diverse and beautiful the landscapes of Yellowstone are, the public comes for the animals. They want to see uncaged animals acting naturally – or as naturally as animals can under the scrutiny of John  and Jane Q Public.

The Publics come to see bears dipping their giant paws into the stream to catch fish. They come to see wolves hunt elk herds in the Lamar Valley. They thrill at watching Mama Elk give birth. They stop in droves along the road to watch bison….well being bison. The very act of the public being here, though, changes the same natural behaviors they hope to see. It is one of the National Parks’ biggest dilemmas.

I get to witness this play out almost every night from my dorm window. I realize how very special these few months in Yellowstone will be. I already recognize I see Yellowstone differently although I have been here several times before. Somehow, my feeling that this Park is MY Park is growing. I feel more protective of ALL of our National Parks, ALL the jewels in the crown.

Come. Come see the animals. But do it with the knowledge that your very presence changes the behaviors of the wild animals. Walk softly. Speak softly. And whatever you do, respect the animals’ wildness. We don’t WANT them to become tame. We, the public, really honestly want our wild animals exactly that – wild.

A MAMMOTH FOURTH

I hadn’t planned on posting today. It is the Fourth of July and even though I had to work, I knew most people would be celebrating. But today, something special happened and I wanted to share it with my readers.

Mammoth Hot Springs is really just a small village that swells during the summer months with our seasonal employees, guests and visitors. During the summer, about 500 Xanterra staff are in Mammoth alone, with another 2,500 throughout the Park. We are all away from home, family, friends and familiarity. My July Fourth plans are always to attend the Patagonia, Arizona Parade with my friend Annie. I’d been telling my coworkers about this wonderful small-town parade in Southern Arizona. Last year I thought I might like to participate this summer – anyone can. But then I took this job in Yellowstone. Well, this year I participated in the Mammoth Hot Springs Fourth of July Parade instead.

I honestly hadn’t thought to do so but at the last minute, I left my work at my desk and left to join a small band of my coworkers from the General Accounting and Computer Center Offices.  We had dressed in colorful notions left over from previous parades and each of us had a small Old Glory to wave.

A decorated Xanterra van took the lead, letting people along the route know that something special was happening.  The ‘Parade Route’ wound through the visitor cabins behind the Hotel and then on to the green lawn across from the Hotel’s imposing Portico. Anybody and everybody was welcome to join in.

I had seen the ‘drill team’ practicing behind the Hotel over the last few days. Today, red, white and blue towels attached to wooden broom handles were brandished high in the air by the Housekeeping Staff as Lee Greenwood’s lyrics “And I’ll gladly stand UP next to you and defend her to this day…”  blared from the radio of the lead car.

More Housekeeping and Guest Services Staff followed, rolling their more diminutive coworkers in decorated service trolleys along the ‘parade route’, waving flags and throwing candy to the guests. Visitors and employees streamed out of their cabins, offices and the Hotel to watch.  “Happy Fourth” rang out from the line of marchers, me included, as we wove our way through the guest cabin area and up to the great portico of Mammoth Hot Springs Hotel. The Wranglers, up from the Mammoth Stables, were a big hit with the crowd as they took up the rear on their beautiful and well-behaved horses. Even many of our international employees participated to help us celebrate our freedom.

As the Parade came to the front of the hotel, we had to wait a minute until a huge tour bus vacated the Portico.  Apparently, the driver didn’t get the memo that this was the Parade Route. The guests then took their places in the shade of the Grand Portico while the marchers gathered on the lawn. The Flag Team performed rather brilliantly to Greenwood’s “God Bless the USA”. One of the flag team had only a tiny US flag but nonetheless he went through the routine with all the aplomb of the flaggers who hoisted what must have been pretty heavy flags.

As Greenwood words “I won’t forget the men who died who gave that right to me” I thought of my nephew Mikey, permanently disabled from the Iraq war. I thought of my Dad, a WWII vet, who suffered from ‘shell shock’ his entire life. I shed a tear or two or more for them - tears of love, of gratitude and of pride.

Then, the closest thing to the Parade Marshall came forward to lead us, all of us, in patriotic songs.  Song sheets were handed out and I don’t think anybody there, including the international guests, thought it was just too plain hokey to sing about our love of country and freedom. Well done, everyone.

Mammoth is a unique place to be on July Fourth.  Yellowstone was the very first National Park in the world. That’s something to celebrate on July Fourth. We ALL own our National Parks, every single one of us. Our National Park system is perhaps our greatest achievement in my mind. We are an immigrant nation, a nation of explorers and adventurers. The Parks, whether they are the great swaths of wilderness in the West, or the historic monuments in the East, are brilliant reminders of what this Nation has gone through to get where we are today.

Our freedom, our wilderness, our history are all very worthy of protecting. We may have differences of opinion on how to go about that but every time Greenwood’s words ring out, hearts stir. OK, I think the song is a little hokey but I tear up just like the rest when I hear the words “There ain’t no doubt I love this land. God Bless the USA.”

Happy Fourth. You wouldn’t be where you are today if someone hadn’t lead the way there. Celebrate your past, our past, and as the fireworks light the sky, say a prayer for our future.

 

 

BREAKING THE ROLES

Ha! Bet you thought I meant Rules, didn’t you? Yeah, I’ve been known to be a bit of a rule-breaker. Or at last to have a mild disdain for most rules unless they have proven pragmatic value. But this post is NOT about breaking rules. This post is really about the reason I am here in Yellowstone.

 

In the past two years, my life has changed a lot. My only son graduated from college and decided to live near the other border – the one with Canada – instead of where he grew up in Arizona.  My dear mother was laid to rest after a living with dementia a very long time. I was traveling so much to be with my mother I had to drop of lot of activities and positions I enjoyed. My sweet dog died and it is unlikely I will take on that responsibility in the near future.  And a series of cycling accidents and falls were a very direct reminder that life is fragile and bodies don’t function at their maximum youthful capacity forever.

 

To be sure, as I experienced these changes in my life, I grieved for my mother, my youth, my dog, for my son’s constant presence in my life.  As I grieved for the person or animal – the relationship - I began to more clearly understand that almost all losses come with roles that we also can lose.  I was no longer a mother that my son needed, being a confident young man.  I was no longer a daughter, a leader, or a dog companion. I had to take a break from the role of active adult I like in order to heal.

 

Each one of these roles comes with an entire culture of expectations and agreements about what to do, how to act and who to be.  Every role we play in lives – husband or wife, mother or father, daughter or son, best friend, lover, business partner, boss, employee – they all provide structure to our lives, structure that helps us move rather automatically from one environment and task to another. We are sometimes in these roles for so very long – I was Mother’s daughter for 59 years – our patterns attributable to these roles become ingrained in us. Sometimes it feels like losing even one of those roles could mean a rent in the tapestry of our lives so permanent that has the potential to unravel the whole.

 

So what happens when our roles are obsolete? What happens when wife no longer has a husband or husband no longer has a wife? What happens when daughter or son no longer has a mother? What happens when you are laid off and are no longer waking up each work day to earn your living? The losses themselves are nearly unfathomable but what about the loss of the role? Do we even recognize the impact that losing the expectations and behaviors that are inherent to those roles?

 

One day I was reading aloud to Mother and the next day those long flights were no longer necessary. My mornings seem longer and somehow less beautiful without the need to take that cranky old canine for her morning walk in her favorite wash. When child or partner leaves, you no longer have to cook for two – or even cook something that you just marginally like for someone else. When you no longer have employment, you get up at 6am to get ready for work and remember that you no longer have to. Once your lose your lover, Valentine’s Day comes around just to remind you that you no longer have a ‘valentine’.

 

The loss of the role may have the potential to be even more life-altering than the loss of relationship. The losses I incurred over the past two years have lead to so many changes in the roles I have had to play and certainly enjoyed these many years. So how does one cope with the loss of the roles? The benefits, the structure, the expectations they provide us? How do we know who we are without the relationships helping to define us?

 

Obviously, one option to keep the role and replace the relationship. A husband can take another partner and often does. A lover often finds a ‘rebound romance’ in order to hang on to the role. A daughter might bond with an older, wiser woman friend or focus her loss on her own children, smothering them with the mother love she misses and expecting them to reenact her role as daughter. A dog-lover might visit the local animal shelter and come away with a dog.

 

That might work for some. But it doesn’t work for me. Naturally cautious about relationships, I am not one that easily replaces relationships, even with animals. The longer I wait for the ‘right fit’, the more I realize that my role was unique to the person or animal with whom I played it. I am shedding the cultures of both those relationships and those specific roles. Discovering what I am like without my old roles helping define my days and responses to my days is an entirely different task.

 

Change usually produces chaos and chaos is where I grow the best. It is an act of courage and of chaos to leave your home and belongings with just enough to fit into your truck and drive north to a place that will promises no comforts of home, no familiarity of surroundings. What Yellowstone represents is a certain rawness of existence that is almost monastic. Or at least for me.

 

I am on Retreat. Not retreat from life, but a break during which I am examining whether the structures and cultures of my old roles have meaning anymore to my life. I am a seasonal worker and the only expectation is that I will get along with my coworkers, do my job well and complete my contract. I don’t feel a lot of pressure to begin constructing a new Role. I am open and available to discover exactly what I need in the present.

 

Who am I when stripped away from all that I know? All that I have been for many, many years? Yellowstone seems like the perfect setting for my quest. I’m only a quarter of the way through my odyssey, my journey, and I have only begun to understand the reasons I typed “jobs in Yellowstone” into my search engine so many months ago. I have only begun to be grateful for the rip in the fabric of my oh-so-comfortable life. Sometimes you have to start over from the beginning. Sometimes you have choose a new beginning.

 

Five months is just barely time enough to begin examining the murky depths of my mental landscape. I have been a daughter, a mother, a leader and a dog person for a long time. What is it like to be none of these things? To do none of these things? To have none of these roles defining my existence? Yellowstone is not the answer; it is only the beginning of the quest to discover the answer. The question? If I were to choose to be exactly who I wanted to be and to live exactly where I wanted to live and to do exactly what I wanted to do, what in the world would that be?

 

MAKING IT RURAL

My address is General Delivery, Mammoth Hot Springs, Wyoming.  I’ve never had a General Delivery address before.  I ordered something from Overstock and it took a month, several calls and a slight change of address to get here. UPS and Fedex don’t deliver to General Delivery. It’s too…..well…general.

Even though my package took forever to get here, my constant checking at the Post Office means the Clerk at the Post Office here now recognizes me. That’s kind of nice.  The Post Office itself is one of those oversized government edifices built an awfully long time ago (1936) when it was important that the government have oversized edifices that have that particular ‘I’m Government’ (with a capital G) look. The postal clerk is a seasonal worker just like me but paid better I’m sure (it IS government – even here). Now that I have all my packages, I only walk over there a couple times a week. It takes too much precious time, particularly if I have to detour around the elk.

Mail may be problematic at times here but the internet is really tricky. Provided for the Staff but oversubscribed, the Staff internet service is very slow if available at all.  I’m used to private high speed internet shared with only one other person. I haven’t had a working tv and have watched my favorite shows on my computer for a long time now. Not possible here in Mammoth. Still, if I get up in the wee hours of the morning – after the young employees have finally gone to bed - the speed of transmission is decent enough on the internet end. At 5am, it’s on my end that the receiving is a bit rough.

My cell phone works here at Mammoth – most of the time - but get too far down the hill to Gardiner or further into the Park and you lose touch with the world. I work here for a big company that has policies using cell phones during work hours anyway and can no longer answer my phone on my whim – or make a call when I want to find out if one of the hair salons in Bozeman, an hour and a half away, has an opening on Saturday.  Saturdays in market towns are very busy you know. By the time I can make my calls, at breaks and lunchtime, I have forgotten how important it is to get the hair out of my eyes and by the time I do remember all appointments have been taken. Fortunately, nowhere in Yellowstone will you find a job posting for fashion police.

My close friends who might want to get hold of me know to text. I get texts pretty regularly and will reply when the window of opportunity comes round – provided I’m not in one of the thousands of dead zones or hiking, rafting, cycling or generally goofing off in some incredibly beautiful place that doesn’t have cell service and shouldn’t have either. I don’t like to spend my time walking around with my cell phone stuck to my ear yelling “Can you hear me now?” when my free time is so precious and there are so many beautiful things to see.

Sometimes it feels that the ‘real world’ has taken a detour at the rusticated triumphal Roosevelt Arch on the north entrance road. It’s not that time is standing still – exactly. It’s just that Yellowstone is on rural time. Everything takes much longer than in the city. So you begin to cut out the inconsequential stuff – like hair cuts and pedicures – until you can get to the big city of Bozeman (population 38,000).

If you have to visit the dentist or optometrist, good luck. Most practitioners in the nearest small town called Livingston are booked up through the next month. So you do what your grandparents or parents did. If your crown falls out, you first try Supergluing it back in. If your glasses fall apart, you tape them back together. You make your own repairs, live with less and wait until you have a LOT of errands so that your entire time is not spent traveling to Bozeman or Cody or Jackson or sometimes West Yellowstone to get what you need.

Even going down to Gardiner Market is annoying because the road down from Mammoth to Gardiner is only 2-lane with hardly any shoulder, very steep sides and often has an RV taking up both lanes. And, of course, there are all those wild animals that have the right-of-way. Pedestrians come second on the right-of-way list. THAT doesn’t happen in the big city.

Motorized vehicles are way, way, way down on the right-of-way list. Horses even have a higher priority than cars.  And your car may not be the biggest thing on the highway, anyway. Bison have been known to crush cars. Lots of things can impede your ‘short trip’ to the store even though it is theoretically only six miles down the road.  It is pretty easy to discard the notion of going for a  'quick' beer if the beer is several miles down a road with everyone and everything having a higher priority than you do in your car. Easier to stay home, add storable red wine to your shopping list for the next time you DO go to town, put on your hiking boots and step out into Wonderland.

So, with nothing big city-ish to do and no real where to drive unless you have a few free hours, it becomes pretty easy to park your car and save gas.  I parked my car last Sunday after a trip to Bozeman and only drove it a few yards the whole week to re-park it in a better spot. I intend to drive back to Bozeman this weekend. I have enough errands to make the trip worth while and I’ll catch a movie and a Thai dinner while I’m there. And the Hot Springs are on my way back. Trips to the City are big events.

So how do we entertain ourselves here in Wonderland?  Obviously, with some of the most beautiful and intriguing scenery in the world, there are lots of places to visit during the day.  There are LOTS of short and medium-length hikes right here at Mammoth and I have yet to make it to more than three of them although I have taken organized hiking trips offered by Yellowstone Association and the Mammoth Employee Rec Department.

The Rec Department does a lot for the employees of the Park.  The three young men at Mammoth who run the activities plan white-water rafting, trips to the theater in West Yellowstone, group hiking trips all over the Park, bingo games, league sports, tournaments of all types, trivia nights and even a 4th of July trip to Livingston's Rodeo. Xanterra employees can also work out in a very nice gym that is more like my old high school gym than LA Fitness. (Personally, working out in a gym seems a bit too big-city when you have 3,468 square miles of wilderness to explore.) And if it's nighttime and you don’t feel like being active, there’s always card games in the dorms or the pubs here at Mammoth (see my post A Lady Walks into a Pub).

Of course, every National Park in the United States has Ranger talks and Ranger-led walks.  There are always videos available in the Visitor Centers as well.  All sorts of things to keep a person busy. The Yellowstone Association also offers all sorts of tours and hikes and awards various levels of ‘certificates’ if you participate in activities put on by the Association, the Rangers, or the Rec boys.  You can also do independent study and many of us do.  Part of my certificate work involves reading a fascinating early history of Yellowstone.

Sometimes (not often) we hear guests complain that there is ‘nothing to do’. Yeah, well, go to DisneyWorld if that’s how you feel. This place is literally crawling with things to do. You just have to get out of your car and sometimes your comfort zone to do them.  But when you do, please remember that at Yellowstone the critters are more important than you are and they may be pretty grumpy about being in your photo with little Johnny. And for your own sake, give them plenty of right-of-way!

SWIMMING UPSTREAM

I stood on the bank, transfixed by the timeless act of procreation. The constantly moving water made it difficult to clearly see the beautiful spotted fish with the deep red slash under her gills until she ventured too far into the shallows. Then, she flapped and twisted and scurried to get past this latest obstacle. Some undeniable force was drawing her further and further upstream – into the shallow riffles of the little streambed in which she would cement her species’ future.

My female seemed to be alone but as I looked more carefully, I realized that many female and male Cutthroat jockeyed for position in the riffles, four and five at a time, around rocks, around branches caught by the fast-moving stream.  The reflective scales of the trout glittered as their bodies writhed against the current.  Deep-seated instinct and the struggle for survival forced the beautiful fish further up against the current. The spawn was on.

I was watching one of the oldest procreation rituals on Earth. Spawning species predate our own migration to the North American continent. Spawning occurs when aquatic animals spread eggs over a certain area to be then fertilized by the male. The complexity of  spawning rituals varies greatly from species to species.

For the Cutthroat, spawning takes place only under certain conditions. We know this because the Yellowstone Cutthroat has been the subject of much research due to the need to constantly monitor this species which is threatened by extinction. Additionally, from its very beginning, Yellowstone has had a long history of scientific cooperation with Universities and the Smithsonian.

The Cutthroat's survival is threatened by habitat loss, predation by birds and bears and competition for resources by more opportunistic fish like lake trout. The very first struggle they face in following their instinctual patterns of procreation is to find the exact stream where they were first eggs themselves. Fortunately, Cutthroat have an unusual sense of smell and a long memory which help them detect the chemical differences in the streams leading upstream from the lake on which they live. And, as fish go, Cutthroat aren’t very enthusiastic travelers, preferring to spend their entire lives near their original spawning stream.

Generally trout will start spawning only after the water gets above 50 degrees. However, my boot happened to accidentally slip into the small stream that funnels the snow melt to Yellowstone’ very aptly named Trout Lake and the water seemed really cold. I now wonder if the Yellowstone Cutthroat might be precocious spawners since Trout Lake was surely colder than 50 degrees!

Of course, even more critical than water temperature and finding their native ‘hood’ for a successful spawn is the ability to struggle up to the shallower riffles. Instinct drives these fishy parents far upstream where the roe can remain undisturbed for a couple weeks in order to consume all the nutrition it can from its egg sac for its journey down to the lake below. And all of this - the to-ing and the fro-ing - is done only by instinct. No GPS or road maps here.

Once the Cutthroat finds the perfect spot in the steam, both female and male participate.  After her mighty struggle upstream, the female finds the best-looking patch of streambed in which to shovel the stream detritus away with her tail forming a little bowl, called a redd. She then lays her hundreds of eggs in the redd and waits for a studly male (often more than one) to saunter by, dropping fishy sperm called milt over the eggs to fertilize them.

Observing just the beginning of the spawn, this entire process seemed very energetic. Like an IronFish contest. To me, it was a beautiful but vigorous tango between Mother Nature and her children. Walking up and down the stream confluence with the beautiful high-country lake, I watched these determined bearers of their species' future for nearly thirty minutes. I found myself holding my breath as the trout met obstacles along their way. I willed them and wanted them so badly to make it. This instinct, this undeniable power, is more than just an invitation - it is a need. Without replaying this instinctive ritual over and over each year, the Cutthroat cease to exist. Somehow, I feel if the Cutthroat can make it, in spite of all their natural and other obstacles, perhaps there is hope for my own silly species.

I suspect we humans, too, have been born with natural instinct that we have come to believe is untrustworthy and suspicious.  We are 'rational' beings, relying on information we get from our books and observation more than our senses and our instinct. Our species, unlike the cutthroat, may have only one truly great predator and that is ourselves. The longer I am in Yellowstone, the more I realize how far away we have come from our own instincts. Perhaps it is time for our species to learn from the determined Cutthroat. Perhaps we will realize that our species, too, is not immune to extinction and that our planet will be here much longer than we will if we don't learn to respect the environment around us. We are still very, very new to this beautiful blue marble and are surely still evolving. Perhaps it is time for us to consider exactly how we wish to evolve. In concert or in opposition to Mother Nature? Surely Mother Nature will win.