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I had thought that my many years of motorcycling would serve me pretty well driving the snowmobile. But now, I kind of doubt it. For the next five minutes, it takes every bit of mental and physical concentration I have to keep my position behind the first driver, Cowboy Jim. It’s now only a couple of minutes later, and I’m beginning to wonder if I can really see him ahead of me or not. Finally, my answer is “Not!” I flash my headlights to signal ahead of me that I have to stop. The visor on my helmet has fogged over and the fog has now turned to ice, and my glasses aren’t faring much better. I’ve tried to wipe them all with a handkerchief I brought, but now I had to stop, unable to distinguish the trail from all of God’s wilderness.
We are traveling along the same road — the Grand Loop — that you see car traffic pictured traveling through Yellowstone, though you can’t see the road, it’s covered with snow and ice. Although the passage is plowed and there is a berm from the plowing, sometimes that just looks like another of the bejillion snow drifts around. There are bamboo poles along the edge of the road placed about every 50 feet. I see them, but I really don’t know why they are there. After another 15 minutes, we make a planned pit stop. I now realize that I’m having the time of my life! Wow, this is exhilarating! My gear is working a little better, though the balaclava I borrowed is worn and tired. I’ve mastered little tricks of positioning the visor to keep the blowing snow out of my face but far enough away from me to not fog it up completely — emphasis on the word “completely.” One attempt at wiping my shield while moving results in me losing my handkerchief. I’ve become more acclimated to the lawnmower with skis that I’m sitting on. However, when you look just off of the road, there’s often a steep drop-off and a creek or river down there. Seems a bit dangerous. Seems a bit scary. Oh, well, Old Faithful awaits me at the end of this trail, and I’m up for it. Cowboy Jim calls in on his radio periodical ly to check the eruption times of Old Faithful. This is so we can eliminate any possible delays in our arrival which will, ultimately, delay our departure from the Park. We are required to exit the Park at a certain late-afternoon time. The news of the eruption time limits stops, and limits chances to take photos — which I’m dying to do. We now pull our snowmobiles into the geyser basin area, park our mobiles, and head to the nearby site of Old Faithful. The timing of this geyser is about every 85 minutes, give or take 10 minutes. But we’ve got in ahead of time, and decide to go to the geyser and not to lunch in a warm, enclosed building. Mmmmm, warm. Old Faithful delivers its regular punch and now everything is white — the ground, the sky, the steam, my previously black snow suit. This is worth it. There are a few other sturdy adventurers who have arrived by snowmobile or snowcoach. We are hardy explorers, sharing a common goal. Wow, there she blows! After lunch, a very quick stop at the gift shop, Old Faithful viewing, and gearing up in the Lodge bathroom, we head off to Biscuit Basin. I bought a really great neck gaiter at the store, replacing my worn balaclava, and now I’m not only much warmer, but this has also solved my fogging visor problem. At Biscuit Basin, we walk along a path amongst multi-colored hot springs, a flowing creek, a spurting geyser. Some folks walk ahead of me and they disappear in the steam. The whole world is white and I’m lost in it. Next to a spring is a lodgepole pine sapling glowing green by itself. Across the creek is a herd of bison. Though there is a small snow field and a creek between us, Cowboy Jim warns to stay where we are, don’t get closer. Sometimes, bison will head off towards you, and they can run real fast. Through the fog and steam, I meet Bill along a wooden walk path where he’s stopped to take a photo. Great photoop for me, too, I think — I’ll get a shot of Bill here. I take one step back |
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