Better than Lucius, Quintus, or Cincinnatus.
The arrow of time moves relentlessly forward and it was sometime past 16:00 when I left the Lower Geyser Basin to continue my journey north toward Madison, Mammoth Springs, and eventually east to the Lamar Valley. Had I not spent time wandering along the boardwalks among the geysers, I might have turned west at Madison to take the easy hike around the reportedly charming Harlequin Lake because, if all you’re going to do is drive, what’s the point of visiting?
The drive from Firehole Lake to Mammoth Hot Springs is about 40 miles and requires an hour plus or minus a few minutes and, as I neared the small village I began to think, “To stop or not to stop — that is the question.” It wasn’t the presence of Fort Yellowstone or the Albright Visitor Center that attracted me but the two terraces of hot springs so stunning that a photo of one of them graces the cover of the 2017 map the NPS distributes to visitors when they enter the park. In counterpoint, there’s the Lamar Valley, which has been called by some “America’s Serengetti.” It is, as that sobriquet indicates, usually the area of the park richest in observable wildlife but it was yet 40 miles and another hour distant.
I drove on. In the clarity enabled by retrospection, I would have ignored the Talking Heads song
that had wormed its way into my mind’s ear for at least half an hour and made that stop to visit the Hot Springs.
Once known as the East Fork of the Yellowstone River, the entire length of the 40-mile-long Lamar River is within the boundaries of Yellowstone NP. The river and its expansive valley occupying the land west of Mount Norris and the Absaroka Range were christened with their current name by Arnold Hague a geologist who was part of a survey of the area in 1885. He named the river for the then Secretary of the Interior L Q C Lamar and I think we can all be happy that he chose Lamar’s surname rather than one of his given names – Lucius, Quintus (sometimes spelled Quinctius) or Cincinnatus (with no offense intended toward the citizens of the Ohio city).
As if to demonstrate that volcanic and tectonic activity isn’t responsible for all of Yellowstone’s geology, the Lamar Valley was carved by a glacial retreat at the beginning of the current interglacial period approximately 10,000 years ago. Although I wasn’t able to identify them, I’d read that the valley is spotted with glacial erratics.
It’s possible that I arrived an hour or two early for the typical evening mammalian commute but another thing I wasn’t able to spot much of in my visit to the valley was the wildlife I’d hoped to see. However, I have to admit that I was a bit unprepared having come without binoculars or any sort of magnification device. Having both heard about and experienced one of the park’s famous “wildlife jams” perhaps I was a tad overly optimistic that the valley’s bears, bison, pronghorn, wolves, or other species would be hanging out close to some part of the 29-mile stretch of road between Tower-Roosevelt and the Northeast Entrance just waiting for me to snap a photo. They weren’t. And the sky grew ever ashier.
The dark spots on the ground are grazing bison – so at least I saw that species in some moderately substantial number. After a bit more than an hour driving through the valley and another half hour or so waiting with a small group of other, more patient, wildlife voyeurs (and frankly feeling a bit of nasal irritation from inhaling ash all day), I decided to leave the valley having taken only four photos and return to Canyon Village for dinner. And it turned out to be
an interesting dinner.
It was still light outside when I arrived in the Canyon Village area and the drive (windows still closed and air conditioning on low) had revived me enough that I thought I’d take one last look at the G C o Y from the North Rim Trail. The canyon certainly had a different aspect from that side – particularly as the sun was setting.
As for dinner, when I arrived at Canyon Village Monday evening, the reality of the dining area differed from my expectations. It’s likely that, assuming I’d eat all my meals in proximity to the hotel, I’d simply read the descriptions too casually. I expected to find three stand alone eateries – two casual and a third that was a bit more formal because it required reservations. This wasn’t exactly the case.
The Eatery housed all three options in a single building. The first two called “Fresh Wok” and “Slow Food Fast” were styled along the lines of Chipotle or Qdoba – where you choose a basic meal and build it from the available selection of protein and carbohydrate options. Add your drink, pay at a common cashier and find a place to sit. Tuesday night I ate a “Fresh Wok” meal.
Wednesday, despite not having a reservation, I decided to try my luck at the M66 Bar and Grill. As you can see from this photo (from the National Park Lodges website), while it might have table service, it’s hardly a formal restaurant. I think it requires reservations because it has limited seating space.
The other two eateries are out of frame to the left.
I wasn’t able to get a table but there was a lone open seat at the bar so I took it. A woman was seated to my left, riffling a small stack of coins the way a poker player might handle a stack of chips. I asked her if she was going to stand pat or take a hit. She chuckled as she came out of her reverie and we started a conversation. Her name was Martha and she’d been in Reno and Lake Tahoe a few days before on a business vacation (and perhaps gambling a little?). She’d picked up a car as a favor for a friend and was driving it back to Chicago.
Since she’d never been to Yellowstone, she thought this was the perfect opportunity to see it. She was also going to the Black Hills and Mount Rushmore. When I asked, she told me she hadn’t considered Devils Tower. By the time she bought me a beer and I bought her one, I think I’d convinced her that it would be worth a detour.
While we were sitting and chatting, in what was a particularly eerie “small world” coincidence, Mark and Susan, a couple from just outside Chicago who had stayed at Frank’s Devils Tower B and B the same night as I, saw me at the bar and walked over to say hello. They added their opinion that Devils Tower was worth a stop. I’ll never know but I hope Martha took the detour.
In closing, I’ll note that I chose the title of this post for no reason beyond my desire to evoke the Donovan song.
Tomorrow, I’ll make a somewhat disappointing return to Montana but I’ll find ways to make the best of it.