Month: September 2020

The last leg of the trip, the leg home, we managed in a bit of a hurry. My kids and wife have said that I am a master of the “long cut.” I could have plotted a more direct route home, but wanted to visit a few more things on the “way home.” We first headed to the Denver area to see Wade, the son of good friends and former neighbors. Enroute, after a long uphill struggle with the pedal to the metal of the old VW (being passed by all but the biggest campers and heaviest eighteen-wheelers), we entered the Eisenhower–Edwin C. Johnson Memorial Tunnel, the longest and highest tunnel in the U.S. Interstate System. Traveling west to east, as we were, it was suddenly all downhill. Through this marvelous feat of engineering we passed under the continental divide. On the other side of the tunnel, we stopped and tried unsuccessfully to see Bighorn sheep along Interstate 70 at a roadside viewpoint. Looking the other way, the man-made lake below the town of Georgetown, Colorado, was quite scenic and full of trout. 

Following Wade’s recommendation, we visited another mountain lake fed by glacier runoff. After so much time in the car, the hike to and from St. Mary’s Glacier was a welcome change. It was a beautiful day, and the diversion made the timing right to meet Wade for dinner, where we talked of old times and recent adventures. I hope someday to be able to write about the remarkable father-and-sons canoeing expedition planned by Wade’s father, Tom, in northern Canada. Their journey finished in the Hudson Bay, after paddling for many days through many miles of remote wilderness; passing polar bears, and navigating icy rapids. I had heard Tom talk about it once before, but Tom is a very modest man and it was good to hear about it from Wade’s point of view. Wade credited his father with taking him and his younger brother, Thomas, on the adventure of a lifetime. Wade is also not a man to brag, but this statement is noteworthy, coming from a Naval Academy grad who has spent considerable time traveling the oceans of the world. We parted company, agreeing that we should not let another 20 years pass before meeting again.

The next morning in downtown Denver, I photographed another Capitol building to add to my list. Then we headed south to a National Park Miss Daisy had not seen (pictured above from a distance). I still think it is a pretty special place and worth more time, but Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve was a little more out of the way than it was worth, in my wife’s opinion. Since the park did not appeal to my wife on that day, and at this point she reiterated she had camped enough, we headed east and dropped into northeastern New Mexico. We passed Capulin Volcano National Monument, but unfortunately when we arrived, the gate had already closed and consequently, I did not get the sunset photo I planned from the road that circles the extinct cinder cone. Onward we went, leaving the sun to set in the rearview mirror, finishing the day in northern Texas.

The next day we got up early and drove and drove from Texas through Oklahoma stopping only for gas. When we got into Arkansas, we headed for the only National Park on the mainland of the lower 48 that I had yet to visit. Hot Springs National Park is atypical; so much so that my wife proclaimed, “This is a city, not a National Park.” As we walked the main street, I pointed to the sign that said Hot Springs National Park. I am pretty sure she did not fully appreciate it when I said, “I guess its status as a National Park is not debatable.” After walking a little more and reading some of the history on the signs, we both started to warm up to it. Though not all National Parks are created equal, this one, we both agreed, would be worth a visit in a non-covid time. The next time we would probably splurge and book a stay in the historic Arlington Hotel. On our visit, a fact that came to our attention is that Hot Springs was actually the first land set aside by Congress (1832) to preserve its use as an area for recreation. This was well before the concept of a national park even existed; something we take for granted today.  We have a newfound appreciation for the role of this park in history, and a good reason to return to Arkansas. The day ended in Little Rock, the capital city, giving me a chance to get up early and photograph its Capitol building. We left Arkansas for the long drive to Atlanta, another Capitol I had not yet photographed. We spent the evening with our middle son, now a resident of the city. We made our way home to Virginia the next day.

For photos from this rather hurried part of the trip click here.

Many people know Steamboat Springs as a winter snow skiing destination. I have only been during the summer months. As a treat for my wife to entice her to come on this adventure, I promised her that we would stay a few days in this quaint resort town. It was not directly on the way home, but it was in the general direction. We booked a nice place near the slopes and used it as a base of operations to see a few things in the area. This is more my wife’s style of travel. We of course walked the town and visited some shops and galleries including Thomas D. Mangelsen’s on the Main Street. We also drove to a few places that had scenic hiking trails including Fish Creek Falls, Yampa River Trails, Mount Zirkel Wilderness, Yampa Botanic Gardens, Chuck Lewis State Wildlife Area and Rabbit Ears Pass. The area has a lot to offer and the locals we met were pleased to tell us about their favorite spots. The picture above is of a Broad-tailed Hummingbird at Yampa Botanic Gardens. It was one of my favorite spots in Steamboat Springs. The Botanic Gardens is a bit understated; a little tucked away, but delivering more than expected. The staff was very friendly and knowledgeable. It is a little surprise gift to locals and visitors. I am sure glad we did not pass it up. To see more from this part of Colorado, click here.

If you haven’t figured it out by now, I like to explore. I like meeting people along the way, but I try to avoid crowds when possible. Fortunately, in Wyoming you can easily find solitude, wilderness and tranquility. The Green River Lakes area is one of those places that you can find serene beauty and hiking and fishing opportunities where you do not have to fight for space. We didn’t plan enough time to fully appreciate the area. That sometimes happens. All you can do is enjoy the time you have and put it on the list of places that are worth another visit. 

My wife likes to relax and stay in one place for a while, but at this point she is starting to get tired of camping, not to mention we have many miles to go before we make it home. The nights can get chilly in the camper and this will probably be the last time on this trip that we will set up camp. I have already pushed my luck and my wife has told me she is looking forward to sleeping in her own bed. For some pictures from this leg of the trip click here.

Next stop Colorado.  

I said in the last post we had people to see. The Turner’s had invited us to dinner and to park the van in the driveway for the night. When we were at their house the last time the hummingbirds were buzzing all over the place. In a week they had almost disappeared; gone south for the winter. John met us in the driveway and offered an alternative subject to photograph. He said that a good friend and neighbor of his had a moose cow and two calves resting in his yard; so, we headed over to Nick Rassas’s house. Nick is an extremely interesting man, who like John is a Notre Dame graduate. Nick built a beautiful house that has a stunning view of the Tetons from his family room which you can’t help but notice just about as soon as you enter the front door. Nick knew we were coming and wanted to show me the moose, which he said could be best viewed through his office window. He ushered us in and lying just below the bottom of the window was the large cow, flanked by her two calves. On the way to the window I noticed, like many men, his office was full of memorabilia. His was full of sports photos, including the one you see above. Nick is number 27 in the photo and standing next to him is legendary coach, Ara Parseghian. It turns out, Nick was an all-American on Ara’s first team at Notre Dame that won the 1964 national title.  He was also the second person ever selected by the Atlanta Falcons in their inaugural year in the draft of 1965. He had a short career there, but, he likes to say with a smile, his bubble gum card is now up to three bucks. According to Nick, his mother was not very impressed with his football skills and encouraged him to get a real job. He listened; got a master’s in finance and that is where he made his mark.

The most prominent photo in his office was a picture of his son. He also was a Notre Dame graduate and all-American, but in Lacrosse. I have included a photo in the gallery and you can see the family resemblance. More impressive though is that they both are motivated by people who say they can’t do something. I never met Nick’s son, but did find an article he wrote (first published in the September/October 2002 issue of Lacrosse magazine) that was reprinted in the 2009 Notre Dame Lacrosse press guide which is worth reading and can be accessed by clicking here and scrolling to page 22.

On the way back to the Turners’ house, John filled me in on a few other stories and told me about a book which features Nick pretty heavily called, Resurrection: The Miracle Season That Saved Notre Dame, written by Jim Dent. He let me look at a copy while he tended his garden and harvested some things for dinner. I found a chapter in the book that was about how Nick got his connection to the Jackson Hole area. The Turner family of the mid 1960’s was instrumental in the dialogue of that chapter. You can see why John and Nick became such good friends and it gives you some insight into what western hospitality is all about. I only had time to read one chapter, but it was well written and I didn’t want to put the book down. 

Dinner on the back porch was excellent. Nick was there and I was happy to have read the chapter. I probably would have had enough questions to keep the conversation lively, but the information I gleaned certainly helped. Mary Kay and my wife had time to catch up on things they could not cover at the breakfast the week before. I learned that their daughter, Kathy, has opened a fine arts shop in Jackson, on the edge of town. We pledged to stop by on our way south the next morning. When we arrived we were a little early and the shop was not yet open. We peered into the window of the shop and saw some beautiful art. On John’s recommendation we headed off to a different set of mountains, an area of the Wind River range called Green River Lakes. It is an area John says that Kathy looks to for inspiration. Thank you to John and Mary Kay for the hospitality.

For some pictures that go along with the story, click here.

After having a good time in Yellowstone, made better by having snagged three days at three different campgrounds within the park because of last-minute cancellations by others, we headed back to the Tetons where I was pretty confident that I would be able to find a place to legally camp on Forest Service land.On the way, we passed the Turners Triangle X Ranch (pictured above…read more about the amazing place by clicking on the link) where I have fond memories. More than two decades ago I arranged a pack trip through them into the Bridger-Teton Wilderness with 10 guys from my wrestling team. It was an outstanding bonding activity. We combined horseback riding, fishing, camping, hiking, and a little high-meadow football on the pack trip using the expert guide service the Turners’ provided (including Mark and his cousins), with a short trip to Yellowstone, and a week at a sports camp at the University of Wyoming. What an amazing experience! I hope, before I get too old, to repeat something similar with family, minus the sports camp. Mark told me that he got his father, John, and mother, Mary Kay (she told me it was the first time riding a horse for a week in 20 years for her, when we had breakfast at Dornans with them), and the rest of the family, including his teenage children, to the wilderness on a pack trip earlier this summer. If you like the outdoors, camping in the mountains, and riding horses, while somebody else takes care of the mules and the cooking; I don’t think you could have a better adventure.

Now to the family I intended to talk about when I sat down to type…Bear 399 and her four cubs. After a bumpy ride up the Forest Service road, we found a great place to spend the night. Across the Snake River Valley you could see the whole Teton range. It was the clearest day we had seen so far. Of course, I took some photos to remember what was for me the most beautiful campsite in my life. The next morning, I knew I wanted to get up early and head to the Oxbow Lake area where the bear family had been hanging out. 

After a hot breakfast of eggs skillfully cooked on the camp stove by my wife (a rarity when we camp because I am usually happy with a quick breakfast of yogurt, so we can get on the way and try to see it all), and another bumpy ride back down the gravel road, I parked along the main road for a short while at the overlook to the lake where several people were paddling kayaks and paddleboards. Some had cameras ready; some equipped with long lenses. Not much seemed to be happening. There were no cars along the road where we had seen (but not been able to photograph) the bears nearly a week ago. I took a few photos and we got back in the van. Miss Daisy got in the back. We drove slowly for only a couple hundred yards when a National Park Service Wildlife Management guy in a neon yellow-green (chartreuse for you people who know your color names) walked out in front of the van acting like a school crossing guard. Me being a master of the obvious, called out to my wife, “There must be a bear.” She called out, “Where.” I said, “Right in front of us. Can’t you see the Ranger?” She quickly unbuckled her seat belt and climbed over the cooler to the front seat as I grabbed my camera. 

Things were happening fast. From the right, out of the bushes, 399 stepped out onto the road staring at the crossing guard as she sniffed the air. We were first in line. Not as close as the ranger, but pretty close. I should have quickly put the car in park and turned the engine off as I had seen the guides do in Tanzania and Kenya, but I panicked a little. My wife squealed in excitement, like a much younger person, “Where are the cubs?”  Bear 399 squared off with the ranger as he looked 399 in the eyes and slowly backed toward my van. Momma bear turned and started walking towards the trees on the other side of the road. Then two cubs walked across the road toward their mother at a confident pace. My wife exclaimed with excitement in a tone usually reserved for her grandchildren when they do something extraordinary, “How cute!!!” A few seconds later another cub crossed the road at a slightly quicker pace. My wife said, “Where’s the fourth?” with a slightly worried tone. On cue, what looked to be the smallest of the four bears, sprinted out of the brush trying to catch up. All I could say was “Wow!” The ranger waved for us to continue on our way, and the guy behind us in a big U-Haul truck honked his horn impatiently.  I took the next left and drove down a gravel road to the other side of the Oxbow Lake to set up and see if the Kayakers were going to be rewarded and get good picture opportunities of 399 and her four cubs swimming. A crowd formed along the bank, having the same idea as me, but after about an hour of waiting, there was no sign that the bears were going to entertain the crowd. We had places to go and people to see.

Please click here and you can see a Photoshopped image compiling all the bears in one shot. The actual photos follow in the gallery that confirm my written account (though I really wish I had turned the car off to get sharper images) and a few other photos from the sunset, campsite, and the rest of the day. I can see why Mengelsen says 399 is his favorite subject.

I am not sure my wife found it as funny as the last fishing story and she certainly did not record it, but on the fourth day in the park we got up early. We intended to make it from Grant Village to the Yellowstone River and a stretch of the river where fishing is allowed in the Hayden Valley. After readying the pole, I checked the surroundings and started to head down (maybe with my head down) the path that led to the river. What I had not seen and probably should have was a huge male bison quietly walking toward the trail I was walking on with our paths about to intersect.  When I noticed him, I was way too close, and turned immediately around and hurried back to the car. I must have had a look on my face, and once I made it back to a safe zone, it made my wife and a few other spectators shake their heads with disbelief and even chuckle a little. The bull never acted like I was a threat; he kept moving at the same pace with his enormous head swaying back and forth as he walked. Eventually my path was clear. I headed back to the river and gave fishing a try. 

After another unsuccessful attempt without a bite, I packed up the fishing pole and we headed north up the valley to a region where fishing is not allowed (for good reason). It is one of my favorite parts of the park for wildlife viewing. There are good pullouts overlooking the river valley and I have seen predators from those vantage points in the past. When we stopped at one of those pullouts, there were a few people lined up with binoculars and spotting scopes. There wasn’t a big crowd, and at first nobody was seeing any bears, but eventually someone exclaimed, there is a grizzly over there. It was way across the valley on the other side of the river. People started describing where to look. I wouldn’t have seen it, but there were others there that saw the bear cross the river earlier that morning. They were patiently waiting for it to make an appearance again and it did not disappoint. Even with a good camera and a long lens it is hard to get a good photo at that range. The picture above is proof that there are grizzly bears in the region, but it is not easy to tell the difference between them and a rock or bush at that distance; except that rocks and bushes stay put, and bears sometimes move. Unlike the story I posted about 399 and her cubs, I was able to take my time and get a few shots, though none are worth bragging about.

I appreciate a good image of wildlife, because I know the work that goes into consistently getting great photos. It is not just a matter of luck. I would like to be as good as Thomas D. Mangelsen, or Joel Sartore, but try as I might, I can’t compete. I will keep trying. It still gives me satisfaction, kind of like fishing; even when I don’t get what I am after. I feel lucky to be there. I guess that’s why I am the “try to see it all guy” and not the “See it All and get a Great Photo guy.”

For a few photos from the last two days in Yellowstone, click here. May your way not be complicated by a big bison in the path to your intended destination. If it is, please allow him to go first. My father would say, “keep your head up and look where you are going.” That’s good advice too!

Finally, I fished a little everyday after I bought the Yellowstone fishing license, even stopping along the South Entrance Road at Lewis Lake, Lewis River, and the Snake River, as we exited the park; but I did not get a bite. Talking to other anglers who were taking it more seriously than me, I found that some did better, but no one said they crushed it.

When I first started going to Yellowstone, you did not need to buy a fishing license to fish. The explanation given to me by a ranger was that the park occupies more than one state and the park itself was an entity before those three states (Wyoming, Montana, and Idaho) became states. That seemed to me to be a reasonable explanation at the time. All you had to do was follow the regulations for fishing in the park. That is no longer the case. I brought along a couple of poles and was expecting to use them. Fortunately, I had found out that a license was required before I started fishing. I bought the license and some barbless hooks. Much of the park is now catch and release for certain species, and a hook without a barb is much easier to remove from the fish’s mouth. It also makes it more difficult to land the fish. I like the idea of fishing; catch and release is fine with me. Every other time we fished Yellowstone, we caught fish. Years ago, my wife video taped me and my oldest son catching native cutthroat trout in Yellowstone Lake in a small motorboat we rented for the day. Not only were the fish biting, but she also got my youngest son who was probably 2 ½, trying to bite his 4-year-old brother. On a small boat, it made for some entertaining moments as the older child tried to avoid his brother’s teeth. Nobody went overboard or got hurt and to this day, my wife thinks the video should be sent to America’s Funniest Home Videos. 

On our second night of camping (third day visiting the park) we camped at the Grant Village campground. Yellowstone lake was only a short walk from our campsite.  After we set up camp, I walked to the lake and tested the waters. I had no luck.

For some photos from the third day in Yellowstone, click here.