Yellerstone: WAFFLE FRY BASIN

Artists Paint Pots, somewhere in Yellowstone

It felt like we were crawling—the speedometer read 45 mph though we were used to cruising a bit…faster…than that. Yet it was the perfect speed for the drive through Yellowstone. Taking charge of the wheel, I played chauffer for the day, thrilled to drive the scenic winding roads, toes ready to tap the brakes in the event that a herd of 3,000 lb bison stand in our curvy path. Eight foot snow drifts lined the roadway though it was only in the 50’s, cloudy and cool. Finding a secluded picnic table under the Lodgepole pines next to the river, we munched on salami and cheese and melted chocolate.


Micah's Inner Bear is released upon his discovery that we're eating salami for lunch.

After a quick game of Hacky sack, we piled into the jeep to explore the Artists Paint pots, Dragons Mouth, mud baths, and other colorfully smelly boardwalk lined “geothermal shit”. Ponds send 3 foot boils of water shooting into the air, steam billowing thicker than LA’s infamous reeking smog.


Lodgepole Pines


Clay Pots

Ready for dinner, we headed for Ol’ Faithful to set up the camp stove and heat a pot of Zatarains rice and beans with hot sauce and chips. Nick, our faithfully domestic travel companion, cooked dinner while Micah played some mellow tunes on the baritone ukulele and I wrote, trying to salvage memories for the consistently behind the times blog. Quarles, being a bit of a creeper, walked around taking photos of random tourists with my camera. We were a spectacle, drawing attention from awkwardly bored tourists strolling along the boardwalk, pretending to care about the famous geyser despite the gray, cold, drizzling weather. Then again we would have been a spectacle regardless of peoples interest in Mother Nature—what isn’t entertaining about a group of kids like us? Spunky, energetic, a bit irreverent yet good humored. Not to mention the power of music to draw a crowd.


Mas Yellerstone

Old Faithful was certainly spectacular and deserves the respect she’s earned since her discovery in 1871. Since we are mere travelers and not beastly explorers, we had to stand on a boardwalk with benches, 150 feet from the geyser, thus making the experience slightly less exciting than that of the men who first came across the natural phenomenon. Nathaniel P. Langford (one of the men who discovered the geyser) wrote of her power….

Judge, then, what must have been our astonishment, as we entered the basin at mid-afternoon of our second day's travel, to see in the clear sunlight, at no great distance, an immense volume of clear, sparkling water projected into the air to the height of one hundred and twenty-five feet. "Geysers! geysers!" exclaimed one of our company, and, spurring our jaded horses, we soon gathered around this wonderful phenomenon. It was indeed a perfect geyser. The aperture through which the jet was projected was an irregular oval, three feet by seven in diameter. The margin of sinter was curiously piled up, and the exterior crust was filled with little hollows full of water, in which were small globules of sediment, some having gathered around bits of wood and other nuclei. This geyser is elevated thirty feet above the level of the surrounding plain, and the crater rises five or six feet above the mound. It spouted at regular intervals nine times during our stay, the columns of boiling water being thrown from ninety to one hundred and twenty-five feet at each discharge, which lasted from fifteen to twenty minutes. We gave it the name of "Old Faithful."


Yellow-Headed Blackbird. It's call resembles that of an Oropendula...very interesting...any ornithologists care to explain the connection?

Sheridan’s men (of that same expedition) also used the geyser as a laundry. They found that by placing cottons and linens (woolens were shredded) in the crater during quiescence, the garments were ejected and scalded, thereby cleaned by the force and heat of the eruption.


The plan was to go to Glacier National Park...we went to the Tetons and hit up a hot spring in the Idaho wilderness instead.


He was taping the circus scene we created at Old Faithful

Driving to the Tetons which border the southern edge of Yellowstone National Park, the boys sound asleep, I listened to Micah’s music, tapping my hand on the worn steering wheel, keeping the beat. “I’m for the Lord and the Lord won! I’m for the Lord and the Lord won! I’m for the Lord and the Lord won!” Micah woke from his slumber and I asked him who we were listening to—after all, the song seemed a bit outside our interests despite its heavy beat and strong voice. He responded, “The Clash, you fool! You know…”I fought the law and the law won!” So…we definitely were not listening to gospel. At least the gospel for the Lord. I’m sure many consider The Clash to be the gospel in its own respect. For me, it was a wonderful way to stay awake after a long, but beautiful day in Yellowstone.