Drove down to Bisbee, Arizona, this evening. It was dark during the night. We arrived, and it was still dark. So, there wasn’t a thing to photograph on the way down from Phoenix. I may have preferred posting an image of some spectacular landscape, but as I said, it was dark outside under the starry sky. Instead, I offer you our room for the next three nights. We checked in late at the Silver King Hotel, right across from a rowdy bar with some of the worst karaoke singers we were ever forced to listen to late into the night. But the room was nice, and the toilet wasn’t too far down the hallway – that’s what you get when you are being cheap. The next morning, we had our first meal of the day at the Bisbee Breakfast Club, affectionately known as the BBC – great breakfast.
My Valentine
Domestic bliss is the wife pretending to be the perfect house frau. What you are witnessing is a once-a-decade event where my wife, Caroline Wise gets into costume to tackle a chore she hasn’t performed during the previous ten years and gives it her all to see if she still has mastery over the mundane, such as ironing clothes. I’m not sure, but I believe this year should have been the “Clean The Toilet” event, come to think of it, I’d bet she hasn’t done that – ever. Oh yeah, Happy Valentines Day.
Ren Fest
Couldn’t make the opening weekend of the Renaissance Festival this year but we were sure to make time the following Saturday. We left early as is usual as once we decide to go we can’t wait to be there. With only a small handful of costumed and adorned visitors already waiting shortly past 8:00 am, we were right up front waiting for the King and Queen to welcome us to a day of medieval merriment before the gates opened at 9:00. After more than a dozen visits to this 12-stage, 30-acre festival we are still always entertained and this Saturday was no different. Strangely enough, this was the first time ever I skipped having the obligatory roasted turkey leg. All of our favorite entertainers were back including Dextre Tripp, Hey Nunnie Nunnie, The Wyldmen, and this year we sat, listened, and laughed out loud to Zilch The Torysteller. New act Barely Balanced was awesome – if we were to need a reason for returning next year for the 23rd annual Arizona Renaissance Festival, Barely Balanced would definitely figure into that equation.
A Yellowstone Poem
How fortunate are we to be here today, a day of a Yellowstone winter
While so many men and women are working so hard to secure their fortunes here on Earth.
Give me not a brick mansion here on Earth
for they are always in need of repair – and an owner to repair them.
Give me instead a large beautiful field such as this one, bounded by mountains and pines.
Give me a river long and clear with rising trout.
Give me a hot spring with its rainbows of steam and a geyser of fireworks so grand!
Give me, if possible, a river otter sliding with abandon on a frozen windswept riverbank.
Give me these things, and my fortune I have.
Because Yellowstone is my mansion on Earth.
This poem was recited to Caroline and me towards the end of our time at Mammoth Hot Springs in Yellowstone National Park. Tyrene is the author and was our guide for the Wake Up To Wildlife tour, our Norris Geyser Basin tour, and our ride north to the Upper Geyser Basin and Old Faithful. After returning to Phoenix we contacted Tyrene to ask her to send us the poem and if we could have permission to print it as it struck a chord with the two of us. This wonderful guide was also with us the previous year for two legs of our first winter adventure in Yellowstone. Thanks, Tyrene.
Yellowstone – Post Script
Over the course of the previous fifteen years, I have been afforded the opportunity to travel to many a destination here in the United States. Matter of fact, I have been to all 48 of the continental geographic areas that cartographers charted as signifying individual states. More than states, I have seen the breadth of a country undivided and magnificent in its scope. From the Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific, I have traveled the continent bordered by Canada to the north and Mexico to the south. I have seen so much of this land that I now have in my mind’s eye a firsthand picture of how the surface of the U.S. changes from the wetlands and everglades of southern Florida up the Atlantic seaboard passing the Nation’s Capital on the way to the rocky and rugged state of Maine. The path from here cuts southwest down the Appalachian Trail leading to the Great Smokey Mountains before I travel to the forests of the southern United States, ultimately arriving in the Bayou country of Louisiana. The Great Plains in the center of America stretch from north to south over more than 1,500 miles and east to west over more than five hundred miles. I have stood at the headwaters of the great Mississippi River and crossed its widest points after those waters traveled more than 2,000 miles south to the Gulf of Mexico. I have stood atop the Rocky Mountains, strode through the Bear Tooth Mountain Range, been endeared by the Bitter Root Mountain Range in Idaho, ridden an old steam train from Durango to Silverton in the San Juan Mountains, hiked upon the Sierra Nevada, and stood next to 3,000-year-old bristlecone pine trees in the Great Basin. At Cape Flattery in the northwest corner of the state of Washington, I have looked out to sea and remember a thousand miles of Pacific coast to the south that I have traveled. Over 170 National Parks and Monuments have welcomed me, as have countless cities and towns across this land.
But, through all of this, I was never alone. I was never without love. My love of place was always with me, and so was another love. A love that reinforces my love of travel and enhances my appreciation for the journey and the destination. That love is the sustaining connection I have to my best friend, my partner, and my wife – Caroline. Twenty-one years in the making, we have developed a bond that, while probably not unbreakable, is as strong a force of togetherness as one might ever hope to have. A kind of synchronicity has formed between us where we will smile at one another at the same instant as we both become aware that we are witnessing or experiencing a perfect moment. The smile arises, knowing that the other is at the same point of awe, and we find each other’s eyes for confirmation that things are, in fact, just perfect. Our emotions spill into the other’s senses. Caroline’s tears can easily awaken my own tears to overflowing, and her smile just as easily puts my face beaming. We travel side-by-side, we laugh face-to-face, we nurse each other’s hurts, and we care for one another. As we walk along in life, we go hand in hand even when not literally hand-in-hand. As far as I know, we both have the best of intentions for our other half, the half that makes us whole. It is as though this pairing requires four eyes and two minds to make sense of and take the greatest pleasure of this world – our spirits kindly obliging this shared moment of our short existence.
I love Caroline in ways spoken of by many a poet or romantic whose words have preceded my own and may have more eloquently captured the essence of love, but still, I cannot stop myself from wanting to let her know in my own words that she means the world to me. From the early years of our relationship, my love of her intellect and personal interests has matured to a love where I better sense and share her delight and recognize her appreciation for the beautiful. This intimate knowledge of her own connection to life fuels my continuing love for my best friend. It has been more than twenty years since a chance random kiss ignited a chemical chain reaction of olfactory exuberance that threw my senses into a long-lasting spell of infatuation. Over the intervening years, we have learned more about who each other is and plan to remain interested and involved in who we are becoming. We come to appreciate more of the diversity and abundance that life, culture, and friendship can bring to one’s life. We have endured and continue to stand hand-in-hand.
Through this incredible love, life appears more colorful, more robust, and more full of passion. What is mundane or foreign can be embraced because our comfort and friendship have grown accustomed to accepting change. With a world of possibility, our horizons appear boundless, even with the realization that there are limits to time and to all things manifested by our fragile emotions and the uncertainty of physical being. But from a spiritual or soulful perspective, today is a perfect day to be in hopeless, infinite, apparent, ceaseless love. Four eyes, two minds, and two smiles dancing through a wondrous life, celebrating its rewards and travails.
Yellowstone – Day 8
It’s now 8:30; an hour ago, I was outside watching the dawn arrive. The beginning of the day looked promising, with some thin clouds stained with a faint magenta and red against a clear sky, grabbing the first light. Now we sit in the Map Room here at Mammoth Hot Springs, awaiting this minute. The coach has pulled up, but we’ll sit here until the last second until the driver enters the building. The heaviness of leaving weighs down my ability to spring into action and deliver our bags to the curb.
In five minutes, we will pass through the Roosevelt Gate at the northern entrance of Yellowstone National Park, bringing an end to our physical presence in the park, but Yellowstone is firmly entrenched within us. We leave silently, kicking and screaming.
A sad goodbye with a tearful but joyous heart breaks with the landscape as we try to drag our little piece of experience we have gleaned from Yellowstone. As we depart, we should recognize the efforts that have gone into making this a worldwide loved destination, starting with John Colter, who first told the stories of this magical place from his visit during the winter of 1807-1808 and inspired others to follow; Nathaniel Pitt Langford who, following the Washburn Expedition of 1870 and his own written experiences of his encounter with Yellowstone, went on to lecture across America and finally lobbied Congress for the legislation to make Yellowstone our first National Park; President Ulysses S. Grant who signed the bill into law that created this National Park on March 1, 1872, the Interior Department, the National Park Service, and all of our tax dollars that work to preserve this corner of America.
U.S. Route 89 north takes us further away, and for the first time in more than a week, we are traveling faster than 25 miles per hour. We pass Gardiner, Chico Hot Springs, Emigrant, Pray, and Pine Creek. In Livingston, we join Interstate 90 going west. Our destination, the Bozeman Airport, is approached in a minute, and not a minute later, we are unloaded and in the terminal – the convenience of small airports. We were able to grab an earlier flight still leaving enough time for a quick lunch.
Over America. In America. How lucky we are to know this country firsthand. During the past twelve months, Caroline and I have driven the Skyline Drive through the Shenandoah National Park in Virginia and visited Jamestown and Williamsburg. Toured the Whitehouse, Mount Vernon, and Monticello. In Washington, D.C., we finally made it to the top of the Washington Monument; we visited the Smithsonian Museum of the American Indian, took a tour of the U.S. Capitol, and a nighttime tour of the U.S. Naval Observatory. In New York City, over two visits, we walked through Central Park, Wall Street, Little Italy, China Town, and Greenwich Village, crossed the Brooklyn Bridge, and went to the top of the Empire State Building – we also stood in the crown of the Statue of Liberty. We rode the Maid of the Mist in Niagara Falls and an Amish horse-drawn buggy in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. In Philadelphia, we visited Constitution Hall, the Liberty Bell, and the home of Edgar Allen Poe. In Baltimore, we toured Fort McHenry, where the original Stars & Stripes once flew, which inspired the Star-Spangled Banner. Historic Gettysburg was easy to fall in love with. A year without the Grand Canyon wouldn’t have been a good year. Old Route 66 with a return to Oatman, Arizona, and the wild donkeys was great. In California, we ate at the Fish Market in San Pedro; on another visit, we had fun at Disneyland and caught a movie in Hollywood. The fourth of July was spent riding the Cumbres Toltec Steam Train with one of the best fireworks shows ever right there in Chama, New Mexico. In Florida, we strode through the Everglades, kayaked the Keys, and camped on the remote Dry Tortugas. And now Yellowstone. To see and know America, one must get out of the clouds, put oneself on the trail and small roads, gaze up to the heights of the mountains, look out on the horizon of the seas, feel the wind blow on the Great Plains, get lost looking into a canyon, and spend time getting to know this land so few take the time to see and experience.